((WR - November)) Bankster's Paradise

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Every day began the same for Janis Aristaeus Bearcharger. Wake up as the sun did, wrapped in blankets, beside his wife. Eat breakfast, table framed by the rising sunlight. Allow his wife to braid his long hair as he washed his face. Get dressed in front of the mirror, debate with his wife whether to wear the green tie or the blue. But only for a few minutes, he had a schedule to keep, after all. Rushing out of their home, Janis would run down the road towards the burgeoning city of Silvermoon, intent to keep to the rigorous schedule he always kept. He stops in front of a large building: strong and imposing, with rigid white lines and bright red crystalline features atop tall spires. Typical Sin’dorei architecture.

The bank was bustling, as it always was before the working day. Men and women came and went, in and out, with checks in their hands. Janis takes a seat at his desk, finding it already piled with papers. Once he finally settles in, turning his nametag around to show he was here to work, he begins to slowly work through the papers: requests to transfer money, opening new accounts, closing old ones, the usual. It was a normal day in the office. He sighs, tossing his braided hair over his shoulder and adjusting his glasses upon his nose. He takes the sides of his frames, moving them up to make sure he could see properly. Circle vision was such a curse.

The papers go by relatively quickly, as they usually do. Read this, sign here. Approve this, stamp that. One stack becomes two, becomes one again. As he finishes working, a woman comes up to his desk and takes a seat in front. Her white blonde hair is drawn back, held back by a bright yellow and green headband. A large purse sits upon her lap and a young man stands beside her, he looks like he might be either her lover or her son. Not that means much to Janis, he’s used to it by now. The woman takes out a checkbook, opening it to one of the blank pages and tapping with her finger. She clears her throat.

The woman speaks curtly, matter of factly. She is straight to the point. Aleister, the name of the young man apparently, is here to open a bank account and Janis is to help them. Easy enough. He has opened enough of these in his time with the bank, including for his many children. He runs through the questions as he did every time he opened a bank account: contact information, financial history, consent to terms. Sign. Stamp. Seal. Finish. Next!

An older looking gentleman approaches next, holding a clear file folder with several papers housed inside. His hands are shaking. Janis gestures for him to take a seat as he adjusts his glasses again. He really needed to get those refitted, the constant adjusting was getting annoying. The man is clearly nervous as he describes his ideas: an investment in a business, a shop for exotic goods imported from Zandalar right here in their home city. He needed a loan. A small one, he promises. Janis considers the idea, turning a pen in his hands several times. He spins his chair from side to side, never once letting his gaze leave the man for long. The banker seems uncertain of the returns given the nature of their people, explaining to the man that he needs to know that the bank will see its money back, turning him away gently. If he is able to return with documentation to show that his business will succeed, he will offer the money. Next!

Nothing. There are no more for the time being. Finally, a moment to relax by himself. Janis begins to take the papers he’d signed and stamped from before and sorts them into separate piles for filing. This is relaxing. He enjoys this greatly and it takes up much of his morning.

Eventually, the time for his lunch break rolls around (before he’d gotten the chance to put the files away, damn it!) and Janis pulls out a small, packed lunch from underneath his desk. As he unsealed the lunch, he could feel the heat radiating from inside of the perfectly temperature-controlled container. Magic: an elf’s best friend. It seemed the servants had packed him leftovers from the night before: slices of roasted meat and potatoes, baked vegetables, a slice of toasted bread. Nothing too spectacular for a none too spectacular day. The food disappears as quickly as it appeared from beneath his desk, and the man returns to his work.

Not five minutes after his lunch had finished had a young woman come bounding towards his desk, jittery and excitable, trembling like an animal that had downed a few too many espressos. She clasps her hands together, bright eyes shining as she stared at Janis eagerly. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her, silently asking her what she was interested in. She spoke quickly, a little too loudly. On the bright side, Janis wasn’t going to fall asleep from his heavy lunch after an encounter with this little pixie sprite of an elf. She’s quick to answer, saying she has a deposit to make. She produces a coin pouch, that jangled loudly with every movement, that she plops down unceremoniously into Janis’ awaiting hand. He counts through the money in rapid fire Thalassian, marking it down upon a notepad. With all the money accounted for, the deposit is easily made. Forms are signed. Money is taken. A job well done.

With the woman gone (and a sense of stability returned to Janis’ view), the man takes the files from before and quickly strides down a hallway towards a long corridor full of shelves placed back to back, without any space between them, except for at the ends. With a single wave of his hand, the shelves begin to shuffle, as if on wheels, until Janis is faced with the exact spot he was looking for to begin shelving his files. He pulls up a seat, beginning to place folders into boxes and boxes onto shelves.

The day ends as quietly as it started, with Janis packing up his bag and starting towards the door. As he’s about to leave, a courier rushes in and thrusts a letter into his hands. He looks down at the letter, addressed to him from one Soren Qianas Bearcharger. He eases the seal open with a slender finger, reading over the contents and frowning, before returning it to his bag with a sigh. That was trouble for another night. Today was an ordinary day for an ordinary man who had an ordinary family that didn’t crash boats into rocks willy nilly.

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