300 Warehouse

The white-haired footman straightened his back, seeing two gentlemen approach, one armored, one cloaked... Tycondrius found it amusing that they resembled another Knight and Rogue.

The young man nodded warily, scrutinizing them both, "Good afternoon. How can I help you?"

Tycon rested his halberd against his shoulder and unbuckled the top of his cloak to reveal the Decanus armor underneath. At least the armor and weaponry worn by himself and Zenon were far more professional than the footman's previous numbskulls.

"Zenon, Iron-Rank Librarian," The Centurion gave a friendly smile. "Long-range caster."

"Tycon. I operate as an Iron-Rank Tactician. Mid-range support," Tycon stated.

"Ah, you guys are here for recruitment," The footman smiled... but disappointment was evident in his eyes. "Tanamar, Iron-Rank Holy Lancer, footman of House Vanzano. Thank you two for being professional-- haven't had much of that, recently."

Tycon raised an eyebrow, "Is there an issue?"

"Oh, no," Tanamar grimaced. "I was just hoping for a class with heavy armor specialization. Always need those."

For a typical monster-subjugation quest, any possible threat could be reduced by fielding a larger number of adventurers. It was upon that concept that the Rhodok Adventuring Company built its reputation. Dungeons, however, tended to be inside of cavern structures, old ruins, or otherwise had limited space. In such conditions, success via overwhelming numbers was highly inefficient. Efficient dungeoneering utilized fielding a number of quality individuals, reasonably synergistic team compositions, and working as a team.

Decent defense-type classes were sought after in dungeons... but not because the classes were rare. Armored Knights, Weaponmaster Fighters... even low-tier Warriors were fairly common. The difficulty was that the defensive roles in a dungeon were responsible for the well-being of several others in their team. With that setting, attention-to-detail, quick thinking, physical reflexes... all of their flaws became much more apparent.

Shield Maiden Gianna and Champion Sixtus performed well, protecting their allies in the thick of combat... and they were two out of two-hundred Rhodoks. Adventurers of their caliber, Tycon judged as far fewer than 1%.

Sol Invictus did have a powerful armored class... the Iron-Rank Berserk Knight, Seldin Korr. Should this mission require her assistance, he'd send Sorina Capulet a missive via the Courier's Guild.

The young Tanamar again forced a smile. His annoyance was clear, but the two of them didn't seem to be the source of his frustrations, "Since you two are interested in running with the Stormbrands, let me tell you about our requirements."

The young man's ''requirements' were laughably simple.

1. Don't be an idiot.

2. Listen to directions.

3. Offering two gold pieces to recruit an armored class.

Tycon thought deeply about the list, "Your first... requirement seems... like it should be a well-understood, unspoken rule?"

That considered, the second rule also seemed redundant.

Tanamar shook his head, "Oh, you sweet summer child..."

What did that mean?

...Was he being insulted? Concerning age, the footman was far more of a child than Tycon was.

The sound of bells rang out through the adventurer's plaza before Tycon could ask.

"Aw, Flame take me," Tanamar grit his teeth. "I have to go. Come by the Vanzano estate in four bells and we'll talk more."

The footman hurried off at a steady jog.

Zenon pursed his lips into a grimace and looked down to Tycon... "Anything you wanna do that'll take four bells, Optio?"

"No, there is not." Tycon shrugged, "Let's follow him."

...

Following the Holy Lancer's trail, Tycon and Zenon eventually found the young man... driving an oxen-pulled cart... full of marketables?

"Yeah, looks good! Back it up nice and slow, Tanamar!" A warehouse overseer called out.

"What... what is he doing?" Zenon asked, incredulous.

"He appears to be working a part-time job... driving a cart into a warehouse," Tycon crossed his arms, mulling over the thought of it.

"No, I mean... he's a footman of a noble house. Why would he be working a second job?" The Centurion crinkled his mustache.

Tycon had similar thoughts... He observed Tanamar's skill in checking over his shoulder to judge distance, directing the oxen, and listening to the overseer's commands. It was clearly not the young man's first sun-- he looked like he'd been working dutifully for weeks or moons.

House Vanzano should rightfully belong to a social circle of wealthy noble peers. If word surfaced that one of their footmen was forced to work a second job... and in a mundane business... they would receive nothing but contempt and derision.

But surely Tanamar must know that?

Tycon approached the cart, raising his voice, "Tanamar of House Vanzano..."

"Holy shite!" The young man jumped in surprise, nearly out of his seat.

The Holy Lancer was still wearing his tabard-- he wasn't hiding his identity, at all. He really shouldn't have been that surprised.

Tanamar's mouth twitched, "I... commend you on your interest in joining the Stormbrands."

"I'd like to address the fact that you're working as a common laborer." Tycon narrowed his eyes to thin slits, irritation hastening his speech, "You are a footman of *House Vanzano*. Do they not pay you enough?"

"I can explain... just give me a bit," He sucked in air through his teeth but kept quiet until he could park the cart properly.

The young man had excellent work ethic. Tycon could not fault him for that.

Dismounting the cart, Tanamar thanked the warehouse overseer for his patience. The latter seemed... apologetic about the job, while the footman offered unabated thanks for the opportunity.

Tycon feared that Natalya's quest was even more difficult than he'd anticipated.

Tanamar faced Tycon and crossed his arms, hesitant... "House Vanzano... is not doing well financially, right now."

"That seems... painfully obvious," Centurion Zenon shook his head.

"...Who's in charge of the House?" Tycon furrowed his brows, "Do they know about this?"

"Athena's parents are... and they don't know."

"And the young mistress?" Tycon interrogated, "Does she know?"

"Ehh... let's just say she doesn't." Tanamar grimaced, baring his teeth, "And let's just say... I'd rather she not find out."