Printer Hall Loves Gossip

Writers: Shawna, Sia
Date Posted: 23rd May 2026

Characters: N'tan, Aleriand
Description: N’tan visits the Printerhall unexpectedly
Location: Printer Hall
Date: month 2, day 23 of Turn 13

Aleriand

Bastiath wasn’t an unfamiliar figure at the Printer Hall, but he usually stopped by to pick up the Hallmaster and was away again as soon as he’d appeared. But today wasn’t a poker night, and the brown was stretched out comfortably on a patch of ground that had been worn free of grass by dragons coming and going. His idly swishing tail was a trip hazard between two of the buildings, though some of the apprentices seemed to be daring each other to try jumping it.

N’tan himself was inside one of the buildings, idly chatting with one of the printerhall staff about the recent events at Dolphin Cove Weyr. “And that’s why I’m grateful Bastiath mostly sticks to greens. I’ve never heard of a green mauling a pushy brown. Hopefully things will go back to normal now. The atmosphere has been tense lately.”

Aleriand heard the apprentices daring each other to leap over Bastiath's tail before he saw the brown sitting where Relsath usually waited. It wasn't poker night. It wasn't even night yet. It took several minutes of casual-yet-thorough searching to find the culprit chatting with one of his journalists, who was giddily taking notes of whatever N'tan had to say.

"N'tan, are you accosting my journeymen or are they accosting you?" He asked.

“I think we can call it even. I needed help making an order and the Hall, apparently, needs gossip. I can get out of your way if you need to get back to work,” N’tan said politely to the journalist, who did not look pleased at having the conversation cut off so abruptly. Perhaps because this was work. “Hallmaster,” the brownrider said with bland politeness. “I assume you’re busy?”

For a moment, Aleriand simply stared at him. His brain did an unhelpful thing where it tried to process several completely different problems at once and failed at all of them. N'tan, as far as Aleriand had understood the delicate arrangement of their lives, existed safely at the Weyr. He did not linger. _They_ did not linger.

Panic arrived a heartbeat later. Not visibly. Aleriand had spent far too many Turns cultivating composure for that. Outwardly, he only folded his hands behind his back and straightened slightly. Inwardly, however, his thoughts were already sprinting in frantic circles.

J'ine had shown up at the Hall exactly like this several times. Pleasant, polite, smiling, with every intent of casually broadcasting their relationship to the entire Halls and Hold. A rider showing up unannounced was not, historically, a neutral event in Aleriand’s life. Aleriand's eyes flicked briefly towards the journeyman and the brownrider.

"Busy," Aleriand repeated. He cleared his throat quickly, composure snapping back into place like a well-practiced mask. "Yes, well, we can't all be like dragonriders and laze about for days at a time. What are you ordering?"

N’tan studied Aleriand, eyebrow raising in a mild question. “Oh, that’s an outdated insult; it’s not quite the life of leisure it used to be,” he said dryly. “I garden now.” He picked up a book, a gardening guide of some sort from the table next to him, its pages stained and curled from some kind of liquid damage. “This is why the feline isn’t allowed on the table.”

Aleriand's gaze dropped to the book, then snapped back up to N'tan's face as though the answer might be written there instead. That feline. Of course that was the sort of harmless, mundane explanation someone not here to aggravate him would have. "Your garden." He repeated. "How industrious of you. And you needed to come right here to get it replaced? You couldn't send a note?"

The journeyman looked between them, as if suddenly realizing that the tone was off.

“Well, I like looking at the pictures before I buy a book,” N’tan deadpanned. “And Bastiath is less useful than a firelizard at delivering anything smaller than me. The goldflight was yesterday, I thought I’d come share some of the gossip while it was fresh,” the brownrider gestured towards the journeyman. “But next time I’ll just ‘laze about’.”

"Industrious and craft-minded." Aleriand repeated. "And have you found what you needed, or was there another reason you came in person?"

“Well I was going to catch up with some friends, but I wouldn’t want to distract more of your crafters.” N’tan glanced back to the journeyman, “I’ll bring you the betting numbers on the clutch size once that gets going if you want in.” Nodding cooly towards Aleriand, he said, “I’ll get out of your way.”

"...I would appreciate that, sir." The journeyman said. He considered saying something else, then decided to just leave instead.

“So… you actually came here… for that? Nothing else?” Aleriand asked, incredulous despite himself.

“I wouldn’t have avoided you, but sometimes it isn’t actually all about you. Or has that never occurred to you?” N’tan’s tone was sharp and annoyed.

There was a flicker of something there-- old irritation and bruises-- that didn't linger. "You can hardly fault me for making an assumption based on precedent." Aleriand started instead, then exhaled with a shake of his head. "Except you aren't J'ine, and I don't have any reason to think you're here to annoy me."

“Your Hall was at MY Weyr for what… four Turns? I do know other Printers,” he reminded Aleriand. “I didn’t even ask for you. It really was just a soggy book. The newest edition has some updates, I hear. Apparently I’ve been over-fertilizing my herbs,” his tone carried the same seriousness as if he were confessing a crime.

"Sure you do, and a number of them are still stationed on contract at the Weyr. And no one on contract there is under Impressionable age, by Faranth." Aleriand said, "Though I'm sure the farmcraft will appreciate keeping at least some of their manure."

“I still say you should have used that in recruitment posters. ‘Our apprentices keep getting Searched’ will bring in a lot of students,” N’tan advised blandly.

"That's all I need. Half of my apprentices are here because they _weren't_ searched." Aleriand complained.

“That’s how you’ll know when I’m here to annoy you,” N’tan said, pointing towards Aleriand, “It’s when you’re making THAT face.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Aleriand accused, though the edge had dulled into something closer to reluctant amusement.

“Recompense for the way you greeted me,” or hadn't greeted him rather. “Did you really stomp away from your busy Hallmaster schedule to see if I was gossiping about you?”

Aleriand opened his mouth to deny it, but he closed it quickly. Colour had already started to creep up along his collar and his cheekbones. "I didn't stomp. You can take the poor work ethic up with my hallmaster."

“I’ll do worse,” N’tan threatened, “I’ll go talk to Aikley about your behavior.”

"You _wouldn't_."

Last updated on the June 8th 2026

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Printer Hall Loves Gossip