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Dumac take all of this! I was supposed to clean the hallways, sweep for mites, and scrub mildew from the shelves. That's what I was hired to do. No one told me about any of this realm hopping business. I thought that Scrivener's Hall would be similar to Fargrave, a way to travel between the realms without being tied to any one Prince.
All I have is a bucket, mop, broom, brush, and soap suds. Is that enough to clean spiderwebs and fungal growths off the walls? No. And the scribes say they're much too busy to clear away even some of the dust. We're in an underground cavern, there's dust and dirt everywhere. They even leave books open on tables and then have the gall to ask me why their books are covered in grime.
Don't get me started on that blasted orrery. Have you ever tried to clean cave grit off of wrought iron spikes? I sliced my hand open fifteen times!
A clannfear defecated on a chair yesterday. Defecated! I didn't even know they could do that. And if they can't, where did that fetcher even—
No, I don't even want to think about this. I don't know if I get paid for the services I provide, or if the scribes think I'll clean for my room and board, but I'm leaving through the next rift. I don't care if it's to the Shivering Isles. I quit.
Trilam Farethi, lord of the suds, is giving up and going home. Find yourselves another mop master.