“So, Mister Dapper Carver, what would say your qualifications are?” Marchioness Claire Valondrac began, looking up from the papers on her desk to the well-groomed, black-haired swamp elf sitting in the chair across from her.

The rather well-dressed swamp elf, she had to admit. He wore a well-tailored black vest over a white, long-sleeved shirt, with a black bowtie adding to the look, along with dark brown pants and black dress shoes. The black jacket he was wearing on the way in was hanging on the coat rack nearby, along with the top hat he had, though he was keeping his wooden mask on, which was to be expected.

The masks were, from what Claire knew, worn for both practical and religious purposes in Ostrotoba. The swamplands were where Vitriol, goddess of poison, laid her roots, so much of it was full of toxic water and poisonous gases, and while most swamp elves in modern times had an immunity to those toxins, their ancestors didn’t. So the masks kept the poison out, while also becoming a traditional part of the swampfolk identity.

“Ah, well, ah have-’m, ma, my-” He paused for a moment. “Ahem. I have a great deal of experience working fer-for at the estate of Count Blackmire, ma’am, as noted in ma-gh, my documents.”

Claire nodded, deciding to ignore his obvious slips of accent. Honestly, she was aiming to work with tons of different people from all over the place, so she didn’t even mind, but it was pretty obvious it was bothering him. “Right, you did come with some recommendations, such as from Lady Tealmarn. Nice woman.”

“Mm, yes ma’am, she was quite kind to me.”

“Really? Because from what I’ve seen, she’s sort of arrogant, dismissive, and prone to posturing.”

“Nobody’s perfect, ma’am. She was harsh at times, but I can handle harsh fine.” He paused, then started to mutter. “Ah can be good with harsh situations? No, not that…”

“Mister Carver?”

“Uh-Oh, sorry ma’am. Bad habit-Uh, no, my sincere apologies-”

“You’re really nervous about this, huh?”

His wince was obvious through the mask. “That obvious, huh?”

“Yup. Is there something wrong?”

“No no, it ain’t noth-it’s not anything-”

“Dapper-Can I call you Dapper?”

“Well it’s what ma mama named me-Uh, yes, you can, ma’am.”

She tried to hide her grin. “Right. So, how did things really go at Tealmarn’s Institute? It says you mostly worked in a custodial role there?”

“Uh, yes, ma’am. That was my main job. I did bring refreshments and food to Lady Tealmarn while she worked at times, but she mainly had me keeping the place lookin’ tidy. I did take care of some of the aberrants there too-Uh, ‘aberrant’ bein’ what she called the mutated or engineered subjects she keeps under her care.”

“Ahh, interesting. Would you say that’s more of caregiving role?”

“Eh...more animal handlin’, ma’am. I’ve been livin’ in Ostro all ma life, and I’ve had to handle a few critters in ma time. Most of the aberrants reminded me’a gators, in a way. Most’re plenty willing to leave you be if they’re fed and you ain’t botherin’ them none, but you come by when they’re hungry or start startin’ shi–problems, they’re bound to snap atcha.”

“Huh. Still, that sounds like a handy skill. Have you taken care of other animals?”

“At times, sure. Hounds, horses, cats, owls, toads, a few tarantulas when I was younger, things like that.”

Claire didn’t raise an eyebrow or start grinning because she was a total professional here. “Those were a lot of different animals.”

“...Ah, yeah, true. Well, yeah, that’s jus’ how it goes though.”

“So it sounds. Alright, and how was the Blackmire Estate?”

“Oh it was fine. Blackmire’s not the worst sort to work for. The young’uns in the family are plenty nice, real friendly if sorta absent-minded, though their pa’s an odd sort. Not mean or nothin’, but has a weird way’a lookin’ at people, like he’s jus’ gazin’ past ‘em.”

“Oh really? Do you have any idea as to why he’s like that?”

“...Ah, well, ah don’t think I can tell you that, actually. See, y’hear things workin’ at places like that, and I don’t think I’d be, y’know, doin’ good if I startin’ tellin’ all about the folk I used to work for.”

“Alright, I can respect that. I’m still curious, but I can respect your boundaries. I still wanna test them a little though, so if it’s, say, something more like rumors that I could find out easy instead of a deep secret...mind sharing?”

“...” Dapper shifted in place, then shook his head. “I’d, uh, still prefer not to, ma’am. Speakin’ ill of folk invites ill feelings.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough. Moving on, what were your duties at the Blamire estate?”

“The typical sort, ma’am. I answered the door, announced guests, kept the manor clean, helped the missus and the gardeners with the greenhouses, kept the plants watered, brought food when asked, though as nosferatu most of ‘em didn’t have much of an appetite fer typical foods.”

“Interesting. Did you ever have any trouble while working for them?”

“No ma’am. Well, none from them. Well, not much. Ah, nothin’ to talk about, course. They were cruel or murderous or nothin’, just a few young’uns could get up to mischief.”

“Heh. And how many of these ‘young’uns’ were actually older than you?”

“...” Dapper tilted his head, his pointed ears crooking as he thought. “...all’a ‘em, I think. I’m forty now, which ain’t old for an elf at all, but I’m half, so it’s sorta different. Still, ah think it’s a matter of attitude. Someone acts in ways, they feel younger or older than they are, especially if they’re immortal.”

“True, very true...any stories you want to share there?”

“No ma’am. Like I said, keepin’ things to myself is a part of the job.”

“I can tell. Still, discretion is a good thing, so I won’t hold it against you. So, with professional experience largely out of the way, though I do see you did some restaurant work when you were younger, any family stories you want to share? I’m a little curious what life’s like for swampfolk.”

“Oh, well, ain’t much-Uh, no, guess there is a good amount to say...well, I’m from the Carver family. Uh, main branch, I suppose? Cause there’s the South-Carvers and the Flesh-Carvers out there that’re our cousins, though lemme say you do not wanna spend time with the South-Carvers. Not pleasant folk.”

“But the Flesh-Carvers are?”

“Oh sure, though most call ‘em the Fleshers for short. Salter, she’s my great aunty’s daughter on my pa’s side, is a real nice lady, and their butchershop’s well known down in Slaughter Bay.”

“...You have very creative names for places.”

“Why thank you!”

“So, your family?”

“Oh, right, course. Uh, well, there’s my pa and ma, course. Pa’s a fisher, though in the profession sort, not the Fisher family, though we are good friends with ‘em. I think Aunt Salter’s husband was one? Took on the Flesher name, course, so-Uh, sorry, getting distracted. So, there’s my father, Skipper, who used to do more butcher work but went for fishin’ when he got around his late hundreds, and he met my ma around that time. Apparently, he sailed straight into a bunyip...nest? I think they nest, sorta. You know bunyips, yeah? Big water demons, tend to shift shape, like lookin’ like fluffy lamias when they’re interactin’ with folk?”

“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never met one.”

“Well my ma knows a few so she could introduce you, maybe? Back on subject, my ma, Josephine, was livin’ with them to learn from ‘em. She’s a thornback witch and she was learnin’ about water magic when my pa bumbled on through and she sunk his boat on reflex. Was an accident and the two laughed about it later. Talked a lot, fell in love, got married, all that. Year later, they had my brother Chopper, then me two years later, then my sister Ripper two after that, and finally my other sister Trapper after that.”

“Huh. Chopper, Dapper, Ripper, and Trapper. Do your names relate to your professions, or is that a coincidence?”

“Oh, no coincidence. Most swampfolk get named by a swamp witch or a shaman. They’re kinda like our community leaders, the witches, and it’s considered good luck to get named by one on account of them havin’ insight to the soul and all that. Though things can take different forms, cause Chopper works as a woodcutter instead of a butcher like pa assumed. He’s more into woods and nature stuff than cutting meat, so the name still works, just different from the first thought.”

“And what if the name doesn’t work for what they want?”

Dapper shrugged. “I’m sure there’re cases of that happenin’ plenty, but then they just change their name. If a witch gets it wrong, get another witch to change it up. Why, ma thought Ripper was gonna be a boy, but she turned out to be a girl later, so things can change easy. Kept the name Ripper though, on account’a her likin’ it. Sides, it’s a pretty gender neutral name, you know?”

“...Yes.”

“So yeah, she’s more a general handywoman, though I know she does bounty huntin’ for her main job, mostly for the Blackmires and summa the anurans around Creekside. I introduced her when she was startin’ out and it seems to be workin’ out fine. As for Trapper, she’s probably the most straightforward of us, bein’ a trapper and all. Got a nice little house out by Lake Deepstone too with her wife, Clarissa. Nice gal, bit strange, though I think that’s on account of her bein’ a leviathan.”

“...huh. Well, I’m glad you’re close with your family. If any of them ever want work around Inrapaba, or really anywhere once I really get going, feel free to point them in my direction. It might be nice having more than one Carver working for me.”

“Oh! Uh, so, does that mean…”

“Yup, you’ve got the job.” Claire grinned, holding out her hand for him to shake. “Welcome to the soon-to-be Valondrac Empire.”

And Dapper gladly took her hand, grinning wide under his mask. “Happy to be here!”