by Logan Jacobs
Hebal ignored me and directed one of his soldiers to get on top of my wagon. The one stout dwarf who climbed up squatted low and hoisted two barrels on his shoulders. Then he tossed them down to his partners with ease.
“Damn,” I whispered under my breath when one of the dwarves caught a barrel on his left shoulder and then balanced it with his hand as if it weighed nothing more than a small bag of grain.
Then the same dwarf twisted around to face the opposite direction and caught a second barrel on his shoulder. He easily balanced this one with his right hand, and then he trotted back toward Hebal’s wagon. He leaned the barrels into the back of the wagon, and then he jumped up to roll them under a sheet they’d already set there. By the time he was finished, the second dwarf had arrived with his two barrels, and the first helped him unload. They repeated the process three times, and suddenly our wagon was empty.
“Your three-hundred coin.” Hebal lifted a watermelon sized sack up from the bench of his wagon and handed it to me. “What would you have done without us, partner?”
“Thanks for the gold,” I said as I took the heavy sack from his hands. It must have weighed a good twenty pounds, and my heart hammered in my chest as my palms got sweaty.
We did it. This was the start. With this coin, I’d build my empire.
“Eh,” Hebal grunted, and I blinked out of my reverie.
“You’re welcome for the whiskey,” I commented flatly, and our eyes met for a few moments.
Then he finally nodded and climbed up into his wagon seat.
“Next week?” he grunted.
“Yeah,” I answered as I walked back to the back of my wagon with my payment. “I’ll let you know where to meet. Talk to you then.”
“Fine,” he said, and I heard his cart roll away.
I carefully placed the sack of gold in the back of the wagon, and then I turned to watch Hebal’s cart turn out of the alleyway and onto the main avenue. Then he was out of my sight and lost in the dwarven crowd.
“I’d love to know where you’re going.” I murmured to myself.
Sure, Hebal may have been right about us needing him then, but that was only for the moment.
I needed to figure out who he was selling the whiskey to. Then I could cut out the asshole middle man.
“Anyway, I’m sure glad you enjoyed my story!” Dar shouted extra loud as he opened the back door. He was making sure I heard him just in case we were still in the middle of the whiskey delivery.
“Hey,” I said as I waved my friend over to the back of the wagon.
“We were only seeing if you needed help,” Dar said as he gestured to an older dwarf next to him. “This is Vazmet, the President of the Miners’ Association.”
“Very nice to meet you, sir,” I said as I reached into the wagon and balanced the two muffin boxes on my outstretched arms. “I was just about to bring these in.”
“Very well,” the older dwarf said as he smoothed back the wild white hair on top of his head. Then his wrinkled face twitched in excitement as he sniffed the muffins. “Follow me, human.”
“You got it,” I said as I wobbled toward the door that Dar held open.
“Do you need me to take the othe--” Dar started to say.
“No, stay with the wagon,” I cut Dar off and nodded back toward our cart. “We have some important merchandise in the back.”
“Oh, okay.” Dar arched his eyebrow and stepped toward the wagon.
“Come along, human,” the wrinkled dwarf ordered.
“Coming,” I said as I followed his voice and cautiously shuffled forward a few dozen feet.
“Table to your left,” the dwarf’s voice grumbled somewhere in front of me.
“Ah, perfect,” I said as I placed the boxes atop an old wooden table, turned to face the dwarf, and squinted within the thick cloud of smoke that consumed the entire place.
The hall wasn’t anything fancy to look at, but it was similar to how the dwarves appeared, sturdy and tough. There were gold and silver banners attached to thick wooden structural beams, and each pillar had painted images of the Retired Miners’ Association logo.
“Here’s your payment,” the shriveled dwarf said as he extended a few coins toward me. “We threw in a little extra for the story-teller ya brought.”
“Ah, thank you.” I smiled. “He’ll be at every meeting if you want him to be.”
“Aye, that would be swell,” the elder dwarf said as he turned to join the other retired miners chatting with one another. “If we like the muffins, we’ll see you next week.”
“Okay, thank you for your business.” I waved and then exited down the same hallway we just walked in from.
Those bastards better like the muffins. If they didn’t, that might be a problem for us. But for now, I’d relish in our successful drop off.
I pushed open the back door and saw Dar waiting for me by our cart.
“Important merchandise is right,” Dar said as his mouth hung open. Then he turned around to face the bag of gold inside the wagon. “Think of the--”
“I know,” I said as I leaned against the rear door, gripped a handful of gold coins, tilted my hand, and let them slide off my palm into the bag like a golden waterfall. “We’re meant to do this, Dar.”
“Damn, Wade,” Dar giggled. “This is incredible.”
“Yep, and we are just getting started.”
Chapter 6
The next few days made Dar and I aware of how much help we needed if we wanted our business to grow.
We solidified Marver as our head chef, and even though he was an ass, he was great at his job. We told him he’d also run the day to day operations for the entire catering business, but we still needed some more employees to surround the cranky chef, so we had Cimarra create a job notice, post it throughout the entire Entertainment District, and spread the word that we were hosting interviews at noon at Adi’s cottage.
We didn’t expect many people to show, but when we arrived at Adi’s, over forty people were already lined up outside of the small cottage.
“We’ll be with you all shortly,” Marver announced to the crowd as he waited outside the front door for us.
“Damn, looks like we’ll be busy,” Dar said as we passed the line of people and walked toward the home.
“Yes, we will,” I agreed and locked eyes with a few of the waiting interviewees.
It was a weird feeling to know all of these people were here to find work with our little business. If I could, I’d hire them all because I knew just how hard it was to make a living throughout the realm.
Especially if you were human.
“I was wondering where that other wagon was,” Marver said as he held open the front door for us, and I saw the cottage itself was the cleanest I’d ever seen it.
“I must’ve forgot to tell you, chef,” Dar said as he scratched at his neck and looked around with wide eyes at the clean work space. “We’ll be needing that wagon once a week.”
“Aye, that’s fine, just let me know,” Marver said as he shut the door behind us. “I took the liberty in setting up a spot to conduct our interviews.”
Marver had moved a small wooden table in the front room with a single chair on the right side and three on the left.
“Perfect,” I said as I took a seat in one of the three chairs on the left of the table. “We ready to get this started?”
“Wait,” Marver said as he strolled around the table to face me. “I need to understand what we’re looking for.”
“Hmm … ” I scratched at my chin as I thought of the best way to phrase my thoughts. “I know we need help with deliveries, right?”
“Well, we need help in … ” the chef cleared his throat, “I mean no disrespect, but we need help in every area because we’re building this from the ground up, and the previous owner of this establishment was, frankly, terrible at his job. I really have no idea how he stayed in business or even managed to work with the mess in here.”
“How about
this,” I began, “Dar and I will ask questions that focus on the deliveries, and you can focus on the kitchen staff.”
I thought about our delivery to the Miners’ Association a lot since it had happened. I didn’t want Hebal to get too comfortable, so I really wanted to hire some stout men for the next whiskey transaction. I needed the asshole dwarf to know we could do everything he can do.
But better.
“That should work,” Marver said as he adjusted the floppy chef hat atop his head. “How many people are we looking to hire?”
“How many do you need for your kitchen staff?” I questioned.
“Eh,” Marver scrunched his brow in thought, “that depends on how much work we’ll have on a weekly basis. Will every week be similar to what we’ve previously completed?”
“No,” I said. “We don’t have plans to do another elven party any time soon.”
“So, just the pastries for delivery then?” the chef asked as he tapped his chin with his finger. “That’s a problem.”
“It is?” Dar asked.
“Yeah,” Marver sighed. “I need three assistants to help prepare an order that size, but if you only have one of them a week, there is no sense to keep them employed full time.”
“Can we just hire people part-time?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Marver explained, “but the issue is they might not show up one morning when we need them.”
“I kind of don’t care about wasting the money,” I said as I thought about the sack of gold stashed in the elephant stables. “I just need you to get the work completed that day so we can make the deliveries.”
“But you need to grow this,” Marver said as he gestured to the room. “I don’t want to work for a company that isn’t making money--”
“It will be fine,” I interrupted him. “I can pay you to--”
“Sure,” Marver scoffed. “It’s fine now, but a year from now, when you decide this hobby isn’t fun anymore, you’ll decide to let me go. Mr. Wade, you seem like an intelligent business person, so I have no fears about telling you I’m in this for the long haul. I need you to be making money so I can feel good about my work, hire people, train them, and deliver a quality product. I’m a craftsman and artist, and I just won’t settle for a shaky business arrangement.”
“I get it,” I sighed as I ran my hand over my face. I did understand where the halfling was coming from, but the entire point of this operation was to obscure my whiskey business, and I was starting to feel like it was gaining legs of its own. I was going to find new clients so I could hire people, and then I was going to have to hire more people so I could get new clients.
If I didn’t watch myself, I might find all my time being spent on this catering business instead of distilling whiskey.
“So, are you going to get me more customers?” Marver asked as he crossed his arms and nodded out the door to the line of job applicants. “Or are we going to tell them all to go home.”
“I’ll find you new customers,” Dar said as he shot me a half grin.
“Very well,” the chef replied. “Let’s start talking to these people and find my three new trainees.”
“What about the three who worked with you at the elf party?” Dar asked.
“They were not my first choice, Mr. Dar,” Marver sighed, “and I’d like the chance to pick a few new employees.”
“Alright then,” I breathed. “We’re looking for three new employees.”
“And what about deliveries?” Marver asked.
“Why don’t we just use one or two from the kitchen staff we hire to run deliveries?” Dar suggested.
“We could,” Marver nodded as he thought, “but that would need to change as we grow. Ideally, they are cooking all day, and someone else handles the deliveries.”
“Of course,” I said, “but I think using one or two employees from the kitchen staff would work fine for just three to ten customers.”
“Yeah,” Dar agreed. “We need at least one grunt worker to help you lift and move things when shit gets crazy, Marver.”
“I’d like that grunt to have some culinary experience, though,” the chef said as he rubbed his temples. “Do you both trust me?”
“Of course,” I said.
But did I really?
Hebal proved I couldn’t trust anyone besides Dar, Penny, and Cimarra, and I hadn’t realized how important trust would be with trying to get our vision off the ground.
“Then trust me that I know what to look for in this business,” Marver said as he took off his floppy chef hat and placed it on the table.
“I trust you to make this kitchen thrive,” I began, “but you also need to trust us that we’ll surround you with the help you need and keep the bills paid.”
“Aye,” Marver said as he smoothed his messy hair back and placed the chef hat on top of his head again. Then a smile stretched across his thin lips, but it made him look like he was in pain since he didn’t smile much. “Now, we’re making some progress.”
“Then, let’s get this started,” I said as I nudged Dar.
“Come in!” Dar shouted toward the door.
The door slowly creaked open and in walked a stocky dwarf with broad shoulders. He had a small round nose, brown slits for eyes, and he seemed to squint at me when he walked in as if he couldn’t believe an actual human was involved in the operation of a catering business.
Fucking racists dwarves.
“Please take a seat at the table.” Marver motioned toward the chair we’d set up in front of us.
“Thank you for meeting with me, lads,” the dwarf said as he turned his eyes away from me, took a seat at the table, and then faced us.
When he did, I saw he had three numbers and an Elvish word branded above his left eyebrow, and the rest of his face was freckled and leathery.
“Well, we’re here to see if you can provide us with the help we’re looking for,” I said as my eyes roamed over his thick biceps. The short man looked really strong, and I imagined he’d be able to easily lift whiskey barrels.
“What is--“ Marver started, but Dar cut him off.
“Is that a fucking tattoo?” Dar leaned forward and gestured toward the dwarf.
“Aye, something like that,” the dwarf said as he rubbed his eye with a fat finger.
“What’s it mean?” Dar asked, glanced at me for a split second, and then looked back to the dwarf. “Who gets a fucking tattoo on their face?”
Dar knew or at least had an idea what it meant.
We all did.
But it was a question worth asking. Brandings, tattoos, or body markings in general were a rare sight on anyone other than orcs or whores.
“I think you already know what it means,” the dwarf grunted as he pointed to the Elvish mark above his eye.
“Naw,” Dar scoffed and leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t ya fucking explain it?”
“Well,” the dwarf sighed as he cast his eyes downward, “if you must know, it was my prisoner number when I served my sentence in the elven labor camps, and the Elvish below it says, ‘thief.’”
Dar and I exchanged glances once again. A fellow thief was in our midst.
I was intrigued.
Most prisoners never made it out, though. The elves would brainwash the prisoners and cause them to either lose their minds or kill themselves before their sentence ever finished. So, to see someone who had lasted the elves’ mind terrors was just as rare as the markings.
“Why were you released?” I asked.
“My term ended.” The dwarf shrugged. “I know it’s rare and trust me, lad, the elves were just as shocked to see I hadn’t cracked.”
“When were you freed?” Dar asked.
“Not long ago.” The dwarf’s beard was braided into two strands that were tied tightly to his chin, and he scratched at the base of them as he spoke. “I’m lookin’ for a fresh start. Hard to get a job when everyone knows you were a criminal, though.”
“Were you part of a dwarf g
uild before you were arrested?” Dar asked as he folded his hands in front of him on his lap.
“Aye.” The dwarf nodded and pointed to the Elvish word for “thief” etched above his eye once more. “The Thief’s Guild.”
“They refused to take you back once you were released?” Dar sniffed and focused harder.
“Aye,” the dwarf grunted, “as I said, I’m lookin’ for some honest work. I’m lookin’ for a fresh start.”
“Aren’t we all.” Dar nodded as he looked to me and confirmed my thoughts on hiring the dwarf.
“We don’t care about what your past looks like, but … ” I paused and pointed to an empty barrel. “You think you could lift a full barrel like that one?”
“Easily,” the dwarf said as he tilted his head to look at the barrel. “Probably two or more on my shoulders, that’s all I did in the elven camps, my friend.”
“Lift barrels?” Dar asked.
“Not barrels, but boulders.” The dwarf shrugged, and I saw the massive muscles bulge at his shoulders. “Not that different.”
I wondered what exactly the elves wanted boulders to be moved for in the first place.
Torture?
I pictured a vast field filled with random boulders and prisoners who carried rocks from one end to the other. Elves weren’t the most creative bunch of torturers, but they had effective methods for sure.
“Perfect,” I said and nodded toward the dwarf. “What’s your name?”
“Skamali, but most just call me Skam,” the broad dwarf said and straightened his posture in his seat.
“Alright, Skam.” I started to grab the employment offer sheet we had Cimarra write up for us.
“Wait a second,” Marver intervened. “Is it okay if I ask a few questions as well?”
I forced myself to keep from smacking his halfling head off. But I had to remember he was here to help us.
“Of course,” I said as I gritted my teeth.
As the chef asked his questions, I knew we needed more men like Skam to join our company. True enemies of the elves were a little challenging to find. Sure, everyone in the realm hated them, but not everyone would act on that hate if needed.
