The Flying Emporium

Twenty minutes later Severin stood in front of his destination located in a part of the city he seriously suspected not any classbearers would ever stray into.

Maybe with the exception of people like him, that was.

Severin shook off the last bit of irritation he was still feeling because of the perceived slight and entered the Free Workers Guild.

The building wasn’t as large or as well-maintained as the Adventurer’s Society, far from it, but was still rather impressive, especially in terms of activity, even at this hour.

In here, he immediately noticed, he didn’t look nearly as out of place in his simple clothes as he did on some other occasions; though maybe his were a tad cleaner than that of most others.

He was pleased by that realization until the thought occurred to him that surely there had to be a middle ground between the ridiculous looking, uncomfortable and overly expensive costumes worn by those who thought themselves important, and the simple garments that made him blend in, a little too well, with the, mostly manual, workers in here.

“Get moving boys, get your stuff. I got us the gig at Simba’s farm. Guaranteed work for at least a week. Maybe even two. But we need to get there by tomorrow.”

“That place is in the middle of nowhere! It will take us-”

“That’s why I told you to get moving! West Gate. Half an hour. Go!”

Severin let the group of weather worn men pass and, without wasting any more time considering his wardrobe, headed towards one of the few empty counters where a man, maybe twenty years older than himself, was waiting for him.

“Greetings and welcome to our modest guild. It is your first time visiting, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Indeed,” Severin admitted, “first time.”

“I knew it! All the more pleasure. So then, please tell me how I can help you?” The lively man looked him up and down, hesitated, and apparently unable to place Severin, added:

“Searching or offering?”

Severin refrained from explaining that in a sense, he would be searching, as the man had put it, for something, either way. He settled for, “Offering.”

“Marvelous! We can always use more. Job offers, that is.

So what exactly are we talking about? What do you need? Who do you need?”

“One server. One cashier. Long term, both of them.” Severin said as concisely as possible. And then, remembering Bandur’s advice and the newest changes back home, “Optional lodging provided.”

“Offers lodging…” the man repeated the provided information quietly to himself as he jotted them down on what was, as far as Severin could tell, an ordinary piece of paper, quite unlike the fancy magical one used by the clerk’s counterpart at the front desk in the Society’s skyscraper.

The man then slightly raised his voice in a way that invited Severin to interject and began to amend the just taken notes. “Cashier… will be handling money. Basic math skills required. As for the other… mostly stamina… preferably someone younger? Stronger. But certainly none of the rougher folk. And at least a modicum of manners is, of course, a must; after all, it’s customer service.”

With that, the man looked up towards Severin again and waited for his acknowledgement.

Only then did he continue and said, “Then the next question is this. What exactly do you consider long term? Some of our workers would consider even a weeklong assignment rather long term. Especially in the area of expertise you are looking for. A lot of the people we represent take every job they can land with their responsibilities often changing even from day to day. Most of them are not properly trained,” the man admitted. “Otherwise, they would probably be part of one of the vocational guilds.

Now of course the service sector is a bit of a special case to begin with, but outside of short-term employment for the duration of a single event or as a stand-in, this kind of personal is usually trained in-house and according to one’s specific needs and demands. That is especially true for the more... distinguished establishments.”

Severin was momentarily taken aback by the man’s bluntness but appreciated his honestly all the same; but he didn’t come looking for highly qualified personal, anyway.

“Months,” he clarified. “Possibly even years, and with the option to be promoted to a more permanent position. One that comes with certain extra benefits,” he added and immediately regretted his blunder. Luckily, it didn’t raise any follow up question.

“Hmm.” The clerk thoughtfully bit into the end of his well-worn pen.

“Anything else?”

Severin considered asking explicitly for honest, trustworthy people, but in the end settled for something a bit more diplomatic, sure that the other party would take great offense by the suggestion they might actually refer anyone dishonest.

“If possible, I would prefer someone experienced,” Severin expressed himself in a roundabout way, not actually caring about work experience and despite the fact the man had just explained to him the unlikeliness of finding someone who fulfilled this requirement, anyway.

What Severin really wanted was two employees he could trust without having to draw up a soul devouring contract. Hoping to get his point across, he added, “Someone who has already proven themselves. Someone whose previous efforts have been noted. Especially the cashier.”

Severin received what he thought to be an understanding nod and a follow-up question regarding the working hours the new hires would need to put up with.

Listening to Severin explain that while the actual workload might vary from day to day, the job would be full-time, from morning to evening and every day of the week, the clerk visibly winced, but Severin preceded anything the man might’ve had to say about this matter by mentioning his willingness to pay an accordingly generous salary.

“A signing bonus might also help to convince some people to make such a long-term commitment. Especially on such a short notice.

And I suppose with this, we have touched upon maybe the most important issue. Which is, of course, the matter of payment.”

“A gold a day,” Severin said with a lowered voice, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to him, “what do you say?”

The guild’s employee seemed surprised, but not in a way Severin had expected. That was to say, not pleasantly. His demeanor immediately became much more reserved and serious.

“I say we are an upstanding business.” The response was almost accusatory. “And I would remind you that in the interest of all our customers, we are obligated to investigate the nature of any new business we deal with and do our best to verify their claims.”

Severin didn’t know whether to laugh or feel insulted, but figured neither would help his case.

As calmly as was realistically possible for the [Shopkeeper], he introduced his business and explained the potential employee’s responsibilities in more detail. Which seemed to mollify the elderly man, at least to some degree.

“So you cater to adventurers, is that right? That explains at least in some parts the higher than usual salary. Fine. Optional living accommodations, you said?” He asked and double-checked his notes.

“So, what’s the name of your establishment? And where is it located? As is said, we still need to confirm your claims.”

“It’s… within walking distance,” Severin said vaguely, not quite sure how much he should, or even could, reveal before the official announcement. “Severin’s Emporium”.

At least that seemed to ring a bell, but nothing more than that; and maybe for the better.

“Hm. So a local business, you say. In that case, one of our own staff will accompany you to confirm your claims. You wouldn’t mind, would you? But first, we need some kind of identification.”

“Eh..”

For an instant Severin was stumped. The next, his frown turned into a self-satisfied smile.

Pleased with himself, he produced his newly acquired bronze badge and handed it over.

“I have no idea what exactly this is, but it most certainly is no proper identification.”