A Pen is just a Pen

[Sparrow]

With a flick of his wrist Sparrow signed yet another document, his new role as the Information Administrator keeping him busy day and night. Meadowmere had been slacking when it came to writing reports and responding to several letters about their affairs was now his responsibility. Not that he could complain, officially this position was a punishment for him, a way to keep him ‘out of trouble’ as Simon had put it. But they both knew this was a reward, a way for him to gather intel and keep the military informed of matters that concerned them and keep other matters from bothering them.

At first he hadn’t taken the role very seriously, the day to day affairs of the town could be monotonous, and the most exciting part was considering how to get away with lowering Gladius’s pay before he decided against it. Simon had made sure to have piles of paperwork dragged into his new office by the cartful with a quite too smug expression and a knowing look that had put Sparrow on guard. But then he had started correspondence with house Royce and the affairs of their small town had become considerably more important. They were growing in renown and that made enemies, and they already had quite a few of those. He suspected several of the other great houses remembered quite well who had meddled in their affairs in the past and caused disruptions.

Thankfully, his current position made him quite indispensable to several parties. The military could keep an eye on him and his other affairs would keep their distance as long as he spoon-fed them useful pieces of knowledge he found. And if that proved insufficient he could always test to see if a pen could be mightier than a sword in a small room. He let out a yelp as his hand slammed down on the desk with the weight of an anvil, and only after he distinctly thought about how pens were in no way like swords and could only used to write was his hand freed from its weight. His bruised palm was another good reminder of the deal he’d made with the Ferryman. The wording had been not to pick up a weapon but it seemed when it came to supernatural creatures, the spirit of a deal mattered more than the words. And so even violent thoughts were rejected and punished if he strayed too far into them. No acts of self defense, justified or otherwise could occur, so Sparrow for the first time in his life could only use his words to resolve conflict. He’d have to learn to try and upset people far less, a stabbing because of a tongue too quick to wit was now far more likely. He’d just have to adapt and change, and if he were being honest he didn’t miss the fighting over these last few months. A part of him seemed to enjoy the relative peace of his new occupation, though it was in no way boring.

And so like the bird he was named after he had formed a little nest to compile everything he could find out about the Citizens of Meadowmere. He doubted he could keep anyone out of trouble, but keep a detailed list of it? Well, keeping records was his job now, and he truly suspected he would come to love his job.

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