Gaaron
Gaaron had just about settled nicely into his new… job? Occupation? Prison? “Whatever I want to call it, it is a damned sight more comfortable than my share of a cell in the Stockades, that much is clear!” he thought to himself.
Gaaron had been an inmate of the Stormwind Stockades when a riot had broken out. As a result of his actions during it, Gaaron was recruited by a secret organization called the Disposable Operations Personnel Engagement team, or D.O.P.E., which served the Alliance as deniable operatives whose failure would not embarrass the Alliance or upset any delicate political considerations if they were captured or killed. The team was run by a dwarf named Lucius Stonehand and consisted mainly of convicted prisoners who were quartered in a specially sectioned-off student dormitory room in the floating city of Dalaran, capital of the Magiarchy of Dalaran. As the home of the Kirin Tor, the city was the centerpiece of learning, open to both the Horde and the Alliance while it currently floated over the Crystalsong Forest area of Northrend, acting as a bulwark against the depredations of the Lich King. During time between missions, Gaaron was permitted his armor, weapons, and other equipment, to keep all of it in condition for the next mission. His other teammates shared something similar to Gaaron's room, connected to a common room where they were served their meals (by far a much more comfortable existence than their previous accommodations). Between missions, the members of the team were also allowed to seek legitimate employment within Dalaran, so long as it was legal. After all, their quarters and the food may have been paid for by D.O.P.E., but they were convicts; anything else required them to supply the coin.
Gaaron responded to such an offer of employment. The local herbalists had made it known that they needed some manual, unskilled labor, and he needed to learn more about botany and the cultivation of herbs to improve his chances out in the field.
“Hello, good sir! How may we serve you?” asked a gray-haired balding gentleman as Gaaron entered the shop.
“I am told that you might have a job for manual labor, helping to take care of plants,” said Gaaron.
“Ah yes. It’s been hard to fill, so many in Dalaran think that honest labor is beneath them,” said the fellow. “I am Edwin Egan, and my wife Dorothy runs the place with me. Well, she does the hard work; I’m just a glorified shop clerk and bookkeeper.” Edwin led him over to his wife and passed him over for her supervision. “She’ll get you started, young fellow!”
Gaaron learned the basics swiftly; All the job truly entailed was replacing the topsoil of the in-ground plants with fresh fertilizer, and ensuring each plant was watered, which for some plants meant a sprinkle and some a whole can or more. But it was this basicness of the job that made it tedious, something that no haughty novice would want to waste time on, but made for excellent learning material for Gaaron. “This book here details the care and watering schedules, and this shelf has books about the specific uses for each,” Dorothy informed him.
“Umm…” Gaaron said, embarrassed. “I don’t know how to read. At least, not well.”
“Well, that sounds like an excellent place to begin, then,” said Dorothy with a warm smile.
As there were no available wax tablets or chalkboards, Gaaron discovered that soil made a passable substitute. Weeks passed this way, with Gaaron spending the time when he was not involved in a D.O.P.E. mission (including preparation and recovery time) working as an herbalist, until one day as he was working, Dorothy introduced Gaaron to her daughter, Patricia.
“Patricia is an alchemist,” Dorothy said. “When you are ready, she has volunteered to introduce you to the basics of alchemy.”
“But I have no money to pay for lessons,” observed Gaaron.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Patricia. “I am happy to help, and lend you some books that might help with the basic principles.”
Thus did Patricia spend time teaching Gaaron how to read during his work breaks, and it opened his mind to a world of possibility that he quickly took advantage of. After his work in the cultivation rows was finished for the day, Gaaron would steal the supplies he needed to continue at night; slowly over time to not be caught, he accumulated several quill pens, some low-quality paper (easily come by in a city of students), and candles. He obtained a few seals and a supply of red sealing wax, and late at night, during the only time he had left to himself, picked up practicing the “fine art” of opening seals of messages. With a hot blade to leave the wax intact, he would slide the blade under the seal to gently pry it off, rather than slice it through completely.
The why was obvious; sometimes it was more useful to know how to reseal the messages he had no permission to read after he read them, rather than steal the message and risk the tampering being discovered and the information rendered useless by the discovery. People often acted differently when they thought people knew what they were up to, and changed plans accordingly. Human nature, but one that made his role in D.O.P.E difficult.
Besides, it left Gaaron time to address the small niggle that had begun to grow in his mind; Dorothy and Patricia were generous and kind, and helped him out of the goodness of their hearts. It seemed strangely foreign to Gaaron that there were people - not many perhaps, but a few - who were not solely motivated by self-interest of one sort or another. Certainly, the people with whom he had associated in the past, from the whores in Goldshire to his comrades in the Defias Brotherhood, to the other prisoners in the Stockades were not motivated by any altruism or kind impulse. They, for one reason or another, were selfish, and often cruel and cold in that selfishness.
But not the Egans, and that puzzled Gaaron for a long time, until the only conclusion Gaaron could agree on some months later was that the Egans would be thoroughly disappointed in him and hurt by his actions if they knew Gaaron was stealing the supplies. The idea worried him. He would do anything to avoid it.
The next time he needed to resupply, Gaaron went the long way home to buy his candles instead.
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