CHAPTER 62: CHAPTER 61: THE HIRING

Early Morning, Ginip – In Front of Kaelmart

The street was overflowing.

Hundreds of people stood pressed together, sweating in the morning sun. Men in patched tunics, women clutching thin children, old veterans with scarred hands — they’d all come for the same reason.

Ten silver a month.

That was the wage Kael had promised.

It was a staggering number.

Most laborers in Ginip made only one or two silver monthly — three if they were lucky or did dangerous work. For Kael to offer five to ten times that... it was enough to make even stable, long-time workers reconsider their loyalty.

No one believed it at first. Some laughed. But when the rumors held, and when a town crier announced it outside City Hall, people dropped everything and ran.

A merchant paying ten silver for soap work?

It was a dream to them.

And that’s why Kael now stood inside his shop, peeking through the shuttered window, watching the swelling crowd with a calm expression.

Seris stood beside him, mouth slightly open.

"There’s... there’s way too many," she said. "You only announced fifty jobs."

"I know," Kael muttered.

Midday – Old River Docks

The crowd had grown too large to handle in front of Kaelmart, so the city guards escorted everyone to the abandoned river docks on the mayor’s recommendation.

The old river docks had been abandoned for years. Once used to ferry goods inland, they were now nothing more than warehouses and overgrown paths. But they were big, empty, and perfect for Kael’s purpose today.

Kael stood on an old loading platform at the edge of the warehouse zone.

Officer Marrek, the tall tigerman from City Hall, stood with his arms crossed and eyes scanning everything like a hawk. His presence alone had kept the peace.

Kael took a deep breath, then turned to Renn, standing just behind him.

"You ready?" Kael asked.

Renn nodded. "Let’s do it."

Kael jumped down from the platform and began walking the crowd. He didn’t ask for papers. He didn’t take names.

He looked.

He looked at the eyes of each person. The way they stood. The way they reacted when spoken to.

He wasn’t just looking for strength. He was looking for need.

People with hungry eyes, but pride still in their shoulders.

A hunched old woman with rough fingers who didn’t look away when Kael met her gaze.

A one-legged man leaning on a crutch, offering to scrub floors if needed.

A young woman who didn’t beg — only asked what time she’d need to show up.

"You."

"You."

"You."

One by one, Kael picked them.

After an Hour

Fifty stood apart from the crowd now — a strange mix of rough hands, quiet eyes, and hesitant smiles. The rest waited with disappointment, but no one stirred trouble. Not with Marrek watching.

Kael climbed back onto the loading platform.

"I picked you," he said, voice carrying, "because you looked like people who want to work. Not just earn, but work. That matters."

He raised his hand.

"You’re not hired yet. Not until you understand the rules."

Murmurs rippled through the group.

"You’ll be paid ten silver each month. On time. Every time," Kael said clearly. "You’ll work six days, with one day off each week. If you’re late, you’ll lose coin. If you lie, you’ll lose coin. If you slack off, you’ll be replaced."

He pulled a stack of parchment from his satchel.

"These are called contracts. They say in writing what I just told you — and more. There will be rules. But there will also be rewards."

He held up one finger.

"Each month, one of you will be chosen as the Worker of the Month. That person gets an extra ten silver, and their name goes on the factory wall. You’ll also get food allowances. And if you’re hurt on the job? We’ll pay for the healer."

There was a quiet murmur. Confused. Curious. Some mouths hung open.

In this world, there were no labor laws. Merchants could make workers toil day and night, then refuse to pay them. Workers couldn’t sue.

It didn’t matter how hard you worked. If you were poor, you were disposable. The law just served the wealthy, and the rest were left to scrape by however they could.

And everyone in that crowd knew it.

But Kael was building something different.

Not because he was kind.

Because he was smart.

Give workers a reason to stay loyal. Treat them fairly. Make them feel important. They would work harder, complain less, and defend their employer if anyone came knocking.

It was modern corporate psychology.

The illusion of freedom.

"Can we read them?" one older man asked, squinting at the parchment.

"You don’t have to," Kael said. "If you can’t read, Renn or Seris will explain the whole thing to you. We won’t hide anything."

Then suddenly a group of four thick-armed men stomped toward the crowd.

Familiar faces.

The old soap makers.

They pushed forward, barking like dogs.

"Don’t believe him!" the fattest one bellowed. "He’s a foreigner. He’ll vanish with your wages!"

"He’s trying to destroy our trade!" another spat. "He’s stealing our customers! This workshop? It’s a trick! He’ll gut you and leave you hollow!"

"You think a merchant pays ten silver for soap work out of kindness?" the last snarled. "He’ll bleed you dry, then disappear!"

Several workers tensed. Some shuffled uncomfortably. A few looked like they might back away.

Renn’s eyes flared with pure hatred.

He stormed forward before Kael could even stop him.

"You dare show your faces?" Renn growled, voice shaking. "You called me a rat. A traitor. You threw me out like garbage!"

The old soap makers glared.

"You’re nothing but a recipe thief," one snapped. "And now you’re licking this outsider’s boots."

Renn didn’t back down.

"I’d rather lick his boots than work another day breathing the trash you called soap."

The soap makers tried to speak again — but another voice cut through the tension.

"Enough."

Officer Marrek stepped forward, claws tapping against the hilt of his blade. The towering tigerman didn’t need to bare his teeth — the authority in his voice was enough.

"This hiring is sanctioned by City Hall. Mayor Lysandra herself approved the location. Any further interference will be treated as obstruction. Now leave."

The soap makers hesitated, then backed off — grumbling, scowling, but defeated.

Kael turned back to the crowd.

"If any of you are having second thoughts, now’s the time to walk away."

No one moved.

Fear makes people run.

Fear mixed with hope makes them stay.

"Good."

He hopped down.

"Let’s build something new."

There was silence. Then a murmur. Then cheers — awkward at first, then swelling until the whole dock thundered with it.