Part 1 of the Letters and Ledgers series

Flinch read it twice before he said anything, which for Flinch was a long time.

“Arcanum,” said UG, watching him do it. “Ever heard of it?”

The paper rustled slightly in the hand holding it, on account of that hand not being altogether steady.

Read it. ‘Course I read it. Read everythin’ what comes down this pipe, Master knows that well enough by now, even the bits I ain’t meant to understand.

Heard the name before tonight, matter of fact — not through nothin’ official, through the network, same as always, which means take it for what it’s worth and no more. Word travelin’ round the dredger circuit reckons they’re the sort of outfit what don’t announce theirselves till they’re already standin’ in the room. Big. Quiet about bein’ big. And that bit about the Greener Pastures — I’ve heard that whispered an’ all, more’n once, though never from anyone what’d swear to it under their own name. If it’s true, that ain’t just some goblin knockoff shop what built the thing what near split you in two all them years back. That’s somethin’ with real reach, lookin’ our way now, on account of a little pipe network what you only ever meant for keepin’ track of your own gold an’ quests.

Fifteen slots, Master. That’s what I’ve got to mind, and most days that’s plenty enough to keep a fella honest. Company like that takin’ an interest — I don’t rightly know what that means for the pipe, or for me mindin’ it, or whether “interested” is a word what ends up meanin’ somethin’ good for the likes of us. Dredgers don’t get invited to sit at them sort of tables. We get told after, once it’s decided.

He folded the letter back along its own crease, careful of it, the way he was careful of most things that weren’t his to lose.

Whatever they want, Master — I’ll keep watchin’ the slots same as always. Just… might be worth findin’ out what “interested” means ‘fore it finds out what we’re worth first.

UG read that last bit twice, the grin taking a moment longer than usual to show up.

“Good lad, Flinchy. Good lad.” He was already turning it over — not the worry in it, the opportunity, the way he turned over most things that ought to have given him pause. “Suppose I should test some of my latest ideas for expansion, shouldn’t I. You keep at HomunculAI Systems though, eh — I suppose we ought to call that v1 now. And I’ll need some new branding. Make it look like we’re a bigger outfit than we actually are. Not lying, as such. Just—” he waved a hand, the universal gesture for filling in a gap with confidence instead of a plan. “Presentation.”

Flinch didn’t point out that a company being sniffed at by whoever was actually behind the Greener Pastures might have bigger problems than its letterhead. He’d learned, over however many months it had been, which worries were his to carry and which ones bounced clean off Master without leaving a mark.

“Right y’are, Master. I’ll get the letterhead sorted. All official-lookin’. Promise not to overdo it.” A pause. “Well. Not too much.”

“Good man.” UG was already halfway to the stairs, mind visibly elsewhere — somewhere with wiring in it, and a new naming convention, and the outline of something he hadn’t built yet but was already calling v2. “I’ll leave the details to you, my boy. We’ve got systems to build!”

Flinch watched him go, letter still warm in one hand, and turned back to his corner to start drafting something that would look, on paper, considerably grander than a dredger and a gnome in a tower arguing about department names at half past eleven.

Down below, in the room UG still hadn’t quite finished making a proper cellar of, the workshop light stayed on a good while longer than it needed to.

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More in the Letters and Ledgers series

Next: II. The Letter (Ironforge) →