The cheers went up, rowdy, boisterous and signaling that folk had won a bet or game of some kind, probably to do with dice or arm wrestling. Either way she was too busy to join in. The sounds coming from the main part of the inn were dampened down by the floorboards, the rough, creaky floorboards that would always signal whenever someone stepped upon them. The rest of the room was much of the same, dingy, depressing, but she had tried her best to brighten it up in a way she was accustomed. A tankard held an array of spring flowers, which she refreshed with new blooms every few days. An oil lamp of ruby red glass and brightly polished brass would illuminate a writing desk and a series of pillar candles helped it's task in casting a warm, comforting light around the rest of the room. An intricate bedspread in rich hues of jewel like colours covered the rough covered wooden frame that would groan every time she turned over, threatening to break due to the countless days of use it had seen in the inn since its creation. Here and there would be books, some regarding her work, others for pleasure. Though the book upon her desk would be one she personally was currently trying to weave into a tale of horror, intrigue and heroics, created from her imagination, a very fertile one at that. Lastly, a dresser was against a wall, a cracked, damp wall, the drawers hiding away neat and freshly laundered clothing, all of high quality. Every wooden surface riddled with woodworm, the scent of damp masked by the warming of heavily perfumed oils. Her father would hate this room, he would hate this inn, he would hate this village. Not for himself of course, for he had frequented many inns in his life, partook in their ale, brawls and games. No, he would hate it for her. The Combe and Wattle wasn't known for luxury.
Now she would remind him that she was not in the comfortable family estate, that his daughter, apple of his eye, was far from home and experiencing life without being under his watchful gaze. Business was business though and had to resume. A letter recently sealed with ribbon and wax was to be sent, word of potential trading partners, news of those he already had dealings with and a brief, what she thought to be reassuring, account of recent events in her life, some events that might make him appear at her door being deliberately omitted.
Father,
I trust this letter finds you in good health. I would like to state that Bree is not the cesspool of cut throats, thugs, whores and rapists that you so colourfully described it to be. The town is quaint and as of yet I have had no issue with unsavory sorts. I have taken lodgings in a neighbouring village but am in the process of seeking a more suitable abode more befitting of my taste, one with more light during the day and a view of the stars at night. I assure you it shall be of the high standards we are both accustomed to. I am thankful you allowed me to reside here without the presence of a guard for I feel your money would have been squandered.
I have news in as much that I have taken to writing a book, but rest assured I have not neglected my other studies. I look forward to sharing with you the first draft of my writings when I see you next. It is by no means a work of art, destined for the great libraries of Arda, but it keeps me occupied.
On matters of business. There is a presence of dwarves in the town, and, as you are aware, their primary trade concerns the bounty the mountains have to offer. Thus it disappoints me to say that they seem to have secured most contracts within the town and surrounding areas, though I shall continue as I have, seeking new branches of opportunity. I do however have an order from a local blacksmith, who I might say has broken ties with the dwarves in a rather aggressive manner. He has a keen interest in obtaining a vast quantity of iron and coal, but as expected wishes to evaluate the quality of the supply before signing a contract. I have also received a request of an opal, a high grade and of the size illustrated below. The customer wishes it to be cut and polished but has not informed me of it's use, I imagine something suitable for a jeweller or to be possibly mounted in a dagger or such. Due to my close affiliation with the gentleman, I assure you that payment will be made in full upon receipt. Perhaps a small selection of jewels could be sent, I am aware of a craftsman who makes the most beautiful of goods and that might have interest in future purchases.
In other news, the mayor sends his regards, he would have you know that he and his family appreciate your concern but there is no shortage of gold in the coffers as of yet, so he does not need to fill them with your own supply, but he welcomes you to indulge in a drink and good food when next you visit the town.
Forever in my thoughts
Jessiwick
