Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Atall, slender man with a slightly hunched posture from years of poring over documents and ledgers descended the stairs. His confident gait and footsteps signaled a healthy individual, despite his age.

His thinning hair, peppered with streaks of silver, was combed back and meticulously maintained, just like his sharp, vibrant blue attire with its extravagant contrasting silver embroidery. It made Lansius’s second-hand tunic seem shabby.

Lansius gulped as the man exuded an aura of eccentricity. Unlike the predatory air of the noble, this man meant business.

“Well?” Master Hubert asked impatiently.

The staff member, not much older than Lansius, hastily introduced his master. “This is Master Hubert, the vice—”

“Current head clerk of Riverstead Municipal Office,” Hubert corrected. “The old fool vanished before the siege, and we’ve been unable to bribe because of him. Lord Maurice should have listened!” he rambled and continued quickly, “Now, how may I help you?”

“The letter . . .” Lansius found his voice.

“Yes, I read it. But you’re not trained in bookkeeping.”

“I have been trained, Master Hubert, just not in the Imperium standardized bookkeeping style,” Lansius countered with as much technicality as his vocabulary allowed.

Hubert glanced at Lansius and cast his judgment. “The Eastern style is not to be trusted.”

“I’m not from the Eastern Kingdom. Indeed, theirs is not as advanced,” Lansius clarified, standing tall.

Old Hubert let out a sharp sigh and extended his right arm. The staff member hurriedly placed Lansius’s letter into the master’s palm. Hubert gave it another glance and seemed to consider Stefi in her black gambeson, a color of wealth.

“I can’t ignore the captain’s wishes. So be it,” Hubert said without even facing Lansius. He then quickly added to his staff, “Don’t let him touch ink or paper. Get him into storage and see if he can help in any way.”

“Thank you,” Lansius replied sincerely. Though he hadn’t recovered his memory from his past, he somehow knew this treatment all too well.

As Master Hubert climbed back up the stairs, Lansius was left with the same staff member who didn’t mince words. “Are you a noble?”

“No,” Lansius replied, knowing he would be at the bottom of the pecking order.

Before the staff member could nod, Stefi stepped forward. “He’s my master, though, and a direct retainer of young Lord Arte. I’d be careful if I were you.”

“There should be no problem between us. My name is Vince. I’m not very smart, but my family has been clerks here for generations.” He extended his hand to Lansius.

Lansius grasped Vince’s hand, saying, “Call me Lansius. I hope I can be of help.”

“Hopefully so. We need lots of hands to clear this mess.” Vince rubbed what little goatee he had. Lansius noted that the man’s hair was neat and slick, a sign that he was trying hard despite his modest introduction.

“Oi, Jan, come here,” Vince suddenly called for one of the boys.

A bright-looking boy stopped scrubbing and ran toward them. “Yes, Vince?”

“Take care of Lansius for me. Show him the empty quarters at the far end, so old Hubert doesn’t see him,” Vince added. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Lansius replied lightly, but then asked, “Empty quarter?”

“For your lodging, of course. You’re a clerk now, not a scribe. We can’t let new staff go in and out every day; there are too many risks involved. But don’t worry, the dormitories are quite neat. You’ll like it, unless you’re from a much higher station than me.”

“Ah.” Lansius nodded and exchanged glances with Stefi, who was also nodding excitedly. They had just solved Lansius’s housing problem, and he got it for free.

I have to buy something for that captain. The man’s a hero!

At Lansius’s request, Jan led them to the ground floor, where they encountered three cavernous warehouses that made up the storage area. Each warehouse could accommodate three carts at once for loading or unloading.

After introducing themselves to the other staff, Lansius quickly surveyed his designated work area and found it a mess. His shoulders slumped as he took in the chaotic scene that resembled a campground in the morning more than a warehouse.

Sacks of grains and flour were piled haphazardly, wooden crates were scattered everywhere, and piles of leather curled from mismanaged storage gave off a strong odor.

Earthen jugs, likely filled with wine, were tied against the wall to an old wooden rack, while wooden or wicker baskets of various sizes held smaller jugs.

To make matters worse, dozens of wooden barrels blocked the way, making it hard to move around. Some of the unmarked barrels contained ale, while others were filled with goods like nails, fur coats, or blankets.

“The lord just won a tremendous victory at a fort near the Great River,” Jan said proudly, referring to the battle that took place while Lansius was still traveling to Riverstead.

“I can see that.” Lansius observed another unsorted pile near the warehouse gate, likely dumped after the valuables were recovered.

“This is going to take ten men and a week just to tidy things up,” Stefi commented with stiff lips.

Lansius let out a sigh. He approached the mess, trying to figure out where to start.

“The workers are at your command if you need help,” Jan informed him. “I can’t stay for long, though. I’ll be needed in the kitchen soon.”

“For lunch?” Stefi guessed. “Will we get any?”

“Of course. Where do you want to take your lunch?” Jan inquired.

“Probably here,” Lansius said, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ve got a lot of work to do today.”

“This is just like Ceresia,” Stefi quipped as Jan left the warehouse.

“Ceresia isn’t plundered and pillaged like this,” joked Lansius.

That old fart, he named me a clerk but gave me manual labor . . .

Lansius exhaled deeply. He had joined Lord Arte and traveled to Riverstead, enduring winter and war, with the expectation of working on something important. Yet, this didn’t seem much different from stacking firewood. Slowly, he examined the crates one by one and sketched a crude map on a wax tablet, trying to come up with a plan.

As time passed, their efforts seemed to have little effect. Despite working through lunch, Lansius, Stefi, and a single worker had only managed to rearrange some of the items. The storage area now appeared even more chaotic, like a half-finished puzzle of misplaced pieces.

“This isn’t working,” Lansius mumbled, sitting on a crate, his blue tunic soaked with sweat.

“We only got one worker, and the rest just nod their heads when called, but leave as soon as someone else calls them back,” Stefi replied, sweat dripping from her chin.

Lansius observed the workers in the neighboring warehouse and snorted, realizing their tactics.

Whether working here or there, hard or not, the pay is probably the same. It’s time to change the game.

“Stefi,” Lansius called.

“Yeah?” She noticed the shift in his tone.

“I need your help with something—something that might solve our problem.”

Stefi looked around at the disorganized warehouse. “Show me your magic, Lans, because we won’t finish this on our own.”