“Postmaster Flinthammer,” Katy Stampwhistle said, holding out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“It’s just ‘Ely’ now,” the youngest of the Flinthammer Boys said, shaking her hand. “I was only assigned to monitor Alliance mail during Operation Legionfall.”
He glanced ruefully around the mailroom, hidden below the streets of Dalaran. Mail zipped overhead under its own power, while mailementals sorted more mundane correspondence.
“Where will you go now?” Katy asked. “Will you be monitoring mail to and from the front lines still?”
“I’m going to visit family in Thelsamar while I figure that all out,” Ely said, with a shrug. “Not sure where those ‘front lines’ would be. Still, it was fun messing with my brothers with the censoring quill.”
“Well, if you’re not completely out of the mail business yet,” Katy said, reaching into a mailroom cubby, “we’ve got one problem piece of mail we could use help with.”
Ely took the thick envelope, sealed with wax.
“This looks like it was damaged by sea water.”
“That was before it got to us. It’s been around. The recipient’s an Alliance mage, and he moves around often enough to make it hard even for us to keep up with him.”
Ely smiled, and put the letter in his satchel.
“I’m happy to help,” Ely said, shaking Katy’s hand one more time. “Maybe my brother Ringo and his family will know how to reach this ‘Widge Gearloose’ person.’ Who knows how long he’s been waiting for this letter from Kul Tiras.”