Hollis Vane the Younger: Nominated to Nowhere, No Seat at the Bridge

I hand him the damp receipt. 'Afternoon. I am here to register the river as a second bridge. It runs beside yours and charges nothing. Objections?'

Gorm squints at the sodden receipt while a faint smile tugs his lips. "River as a bridge, eh? Clever as a fox in a henhouse but just as useful? My young troll went home early today, laughed at talk like this. He’s trouble enough without learning from strangers." He crosses his arms again, clearly unmoved by your proposal.

'Noted: one apprentice, absent, laughing. I need him on the form as co-signatory. Until then the river is provisionally a bridge. His name, please?'

Gorm shakes his head as if clearing dust from a book. "Apprentice's name? Gorm Underbeck. The one who doesn't know when to stop grinning at a fool's joke. If you want him on paperwork, you’ll be filling it alone," he says, tapping the receipt. "Binding contracts are nice but so far, none have stopped this chain." He stands firm, arms still crossed, unconvinced by your bureaucratic design.

'Two Gorm Underbecks. A duplicate entry. Under the rules one of you must be the bridge. I nominate you; the chain then belongs to the absent one.'

Gorm blinks at your logic, then chuckles dryly. "Naming me a bridge? That’s a new one – and a bit presumptuous for a man with a damp scrap of paper. The chain’s mine until sundown, and the apprentice’s belly laugh isn’t paying tolls. Try as you might, that receipt’s just for one person, not a stand-in troll or yourself in another role." He taps the chain decisively.

'One person. Agreed. I hereby incorporate the carter, both women, the grandmother and the handcart as limbs of Hollis Vane. We are now one person.'

Gorm snorts. "One person with five heads? If that were true, you’d be the smartest and the greediest troll I’ve met." He eyes the cart and the grandmother like they’re wearing the receipt on their foreheads. "No limbs or bundles can change the paper’s promise—or mine. The chain stays where it is until sundown or better offer." He cracks his knuckles, the water chuckling below.

'A better offer. I appoint you Warden of the Far Bank too. Double jurisdiction, same chain. You must inspect it tonight. We will carry your lantern.'

Gorm cocks his head, amused and appraising. "Warden Far Bank, eh? Fancy title but the chain still bars two feet from my boots. Lantern? Nothing beyond my arms here and the daylight’s still hanging on by a thread. Carrying it? A kindly burden for folks with ink-dark plans, not a troll who’s seen forty years of river tricks." He taps the chain once more. "Your fancy offers don’t lengthen this chain."

'Then a fine. The river is on your second arch without a receipt. Forty years and it has never paid. I lodge mine as evidence. Go collect from it.'

Gorm sighs, shrugging like it’s just another day enduring fools and rivers. "Fine, you lodge what you will. The river can pay no copper and I accept no ghosts for tolls. This chain stays, the receipt stays damp, and sundown won’t wait on your evidence. The young troll’s laughter was the best lesson today, and it wasn’t yours." He taps the chain again, smiling now with a touch less cheer.

I fold the receipt into a small boat, set it on the flood, and sit on the chain with my hand out. 'Ferry service. One copper, Gorm. You are my side.'

You fold the receipt into a fragile paper boat, letting it bob briefly on the flood before it sags wet and limp. Sitting on the chain with your hand out, you offer a 'ferry service.' Gorm snorts, unimpressed by nautical gestures lacking muscles or coins. "Nice trick, but paper boats don’t pay tolls or earn trust." The chain stays chained; the others remain stranded as the light fades and the river’s claim grows. "Try again tomorrow, if the troll hasn’t floated off by then."