The Unaffiliated Artisan
A city unruled by nobles might look appealing at first glance. Perhaps that was why so many people flocked here. But the moment they actually set foot in the place, disappointment usually followed — it was no different from any other city. Quite a few even found it harder to scrape by.
Caladon was a place where birth, connections, and money resolved most things. Put another way, without any of those, living a decent life was nearly impossible. At the very least, you had to know how to do something well. Otherwise you starved — or you clawed at quite literally anything that would keep you from dying.
Fortunately, Toban had nothing — except talent. That still wasn't enough to live well, though.
Short again this month.
He counted the handful of coins sitting on the table and let out a sigh. This was what he'd earned selling the wooden figurine he'd finished yesterday. An entire day of carving and refining, and this was all it amounted to.
Guild artisans never would have stooped to this kind of grunt work.
Being poor is the real crime...
Toban exhaled heavily and picked up his carving knife once more.
The truth was, he'd already saved up the guild membership fee years ago. But when he actually tried to join, a problem presented itself. Entering the guild meant at least three months without income.
Anyone who joined the Artisan Guild had to pass through an apprenticeship, and that stretch was treated as training — meaning you didn't receive a proper wage. Minimum wage? Human rights? As if such things existed here. It was simply a span of time you were expected to endure on your own.
But when even next month's rent was a worry, giving up three months of income was as good as suicide.
And at my age...
Becoming a guild apprentice past thirty was a bit of a joke in itself. Common sense said you joined at fifteen — twenty at the latest.
And so the years had slipped by, neither here nor there. At first it had been I'll join next year. Then it became I'll join eventually. Now he barely even thought about it. The gap between guild members and independents only widened with time.
Then one day, someone came looking for him. The face was oddly familiar, and after a moment's thought Toban recognized one of the mercenaries who stood in front of the waterfront warehouse every single day.
The men guarding that warehouse were almost always the same faces, so the locals couldn't help but know them. Some people even used them as landmarks. The mercenaries themselves didn't seem to realize this.
The man looked Toban up and down, as if taking his measure, then asked,
"You're Toban?"
"That's right. What is this about?"
"There's someone looking for a stone artisan. He'd like to meet you."
"Pardon?"
Toban frowned, puzzled. If you wanted an artisan, you went to the guild. Why come looking for him?
"If you're looking for an artisan, shouldn't you go to the guild? Why come to me...?"
"He might have work for you. Does the reason matter?"
As he said it, the mercenary's gaze flicked across the table — across the half-finished wood carving sitting there. The man seemed to have a fairly clear picture of Toban's circumstances.
"I... all right."
Toban nodded. He didn't know the reason, but if there was work on offer, he wasn't about to turn it down. He was in no position to be picky about what kind.
"Still, I ought to know the name of the person looking for me, shouldn't I?"
"His name is Joseph."
With that, the mercenary told him the day and time to come.
An inn?
The meeting place being an inn was a little strange. Anyone who could send a man to fetch him ought to have some standing — so why an inn? Curiosity mixed with a faint unease, and Toban asked around a bit, but not a soul knew anything about this Joseph.
What is this...
The appointed day arrived. Toban gathered up his carving knives and left the house. He'd been told they were looking for an artisan, so he might need them. He would have liked to dress up, as if meeting someone of high station, but he owned nothing expensive. He settled for whatever smelled least of stale sweat and lamp oil.
His steps felt awkward as he approached the inn, and there at the entrance stood the mercenary who had come to find him before. He looked for all the world like a guardsman protecting a mansion — which made the whole thing rather odd, given that he was standing in front of an inn.
When Toban drew near, the man acknowledged him.
"Go up to the second floor. There'll be a room with a soldier standing in front of it."
Toban swallowed.
A soldier?
Sending a mercenary to summon him to an inn had already been strange enough. Now the man kept private soldiers as well. Toban understood even less about who this Joseph was supposed to be.
Could some noble be playing a joke?
It wasn't unheard of. He'd heard that among those who bore the Pavida name, there were some with peculiar temperaments and stranger tastes. Perhaps this noble's name was Joseph. Perhaps he was using a poor man like Toban for some elaborate game of pretend — and would laugh at him for walking all this way like a fool.
The thought left a sour feeling in his gut.
Still. I've come this far...
He let out a small breath and climbed the stairs. Just as the mercenary had said, a soldier stood in front of one of the rooms.
"I, ah..."
"You're Toban?"
"Yes? Yes..."
The soldier knocked at once. A voice from inside told them to enter.
Toban opened the door and stepped through into a spare, unadorned inn room. A table stood in the center, and at it sat a man he had never seen before.
This is Joseph?
Toban faltered for a moment. He had pictured an aging noble. The man across from him looked younger than he was.
Joseph pointed to the chair opposite.
"Sit."
Toban sat down carefully. Joseph studied him for a beat, as if taking his measure, then spoke.
"Why aren't you affiliated with the guild?"
The bluntness of it made Toban flinch. But he had already steeled himself for this.
"...I didn't have the money."
"Money?"
"I have the membership fee. But once you join, there's no income for several months, and I don't have that kind of leeway..."
He answered honestly. There was no reason to lie, and he had no intention of trying.
Joseph nodded.
"Better than dressing it up with some grand excuse like the others."
The others?
Toban realized there had been other candidates besides himself. And that all of them had been turned away.
"How good are you?"
"I'm not outstanding, but I can handle most things."
Joseph picked a small lump of stone off the table and tossed it to Toban. Then he drew something from his coat and set it down in front of him.
It was an intricately carved stone with twelve faces.
An artifact?
Toban's eyebrows lifted a fraction. He'd seen merchants selling such things at the market, though only rarely. Looking closer, there was even a trading company's emblem inscribed on it — too small to make out which company.
"Carve it to match this."
"...Right here? Now?"
"That's right."
Joseph pointed to a carving knife lying at the side of the table. Toban hesitated, then carefully took out the knives he had brought himself. The familiar weight of his own tools was a small comfort.
"You have your own tools?"
"Yes..."
He began to work the stone with care. It wasn't easy, but he shaped each face methodically, one after another. Joseph said nothing, simply watching the process unfold. Toban was nervous, but his hands did not shake.
A long while later, he set the knife down. The finished piece sat on the table. It wasn't perfect, but all twelve faces had been cut evenly.
Joseph picked up the stone and turned it this way and that, examining it.
"Hmm."
Then, without further comment, he set it back on the table. Toban waited, taut, for his reaction.
"It'll do."
Joseph said it simply.
"Pardon?"
"You're hired."
Toban stared at him, blank.
That easily?
"Really?"
"Yes. It's not perfect, but that will come with practice."
Joseph looked at him as he spoke.
"The terms are simple. Six silver coins a month. You don't breathe a word about the work. Any problem with that?"
Six silver coins. More than twice what Toban had been earning in a month.
"N-no problem at all!"
He answered in a rush.
"Good. Come to the workshop tomorrow morning. Givra will give you the location."
Joseph nodded toward the door, and the mercenary who had been standing outside stepped in.
"Show him the way."
"Yes, sir."
Toban rose from his chair, still half dazed.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow."
He bowed his head as he said it, and Joseph nodded.
After Toban left, Joseph planted his elbows on the table and let out a long breath.
Finally found someone usable, have I.
After seeing the likes of Haguss, Joseph's standards had grown considerably stricter. Skill mattered, but more than that, the man had to be diligent — and know how to keep his mouth shut.
Doesn't seem bad...
He thought back to Toban a moment ago. When asked why he wasn't in the guild, the man hadn't spun some grandiose excuse. He had simply laid out a practical problem, honestly. That he couldn't survive several months without income — the most obvious thing in the world. A man who would say that didn't seem likely to invent inconvenient stories later.
And the focus he'd shown while carving the dodecahedron had been promising as well. It wasn't perfect, but the way he calmly shaped each face, one by one, spoke of real diligence.
Now I can finally get started in earnest.
The materials for the artifacts were ready. He had an artisan who could work them to specification. He had a space to work in. And as a bonus, he'd picked up a sharp-eyed informant along the way. It seemed he could actually begin production now.
Joseph ran the numbers. A week for Toban to get comfortable carving the mediums. Another two or three days for the frames. If things went smoothly, he could have the first artifact finished within two weeks.
The question is whether it'll actually work.
Every artifact Joseph had made so far had been single-use. The medium couldn't withstand the magic and shattered. But this time was different. If Braham's high-grade materials were combined with Toban's precise craftsmanship, they might just produce something stable.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
The door opened and Derik poked his head through.
"Joseph, sir — how was this one?"
"He looks usable."
Derik's face eased with relief.
"That's good to hear. Then you'll be starting work at the workshop from tomorrow?"
"That's right. You lot will have more guard duty coming."
Joseph looked out the window. The sun was already sliding toward the west.
This is a truly critical opportunity.
Success in Caladon meant more than simply making money. It would be the foothold he needed to finally establish himself in this world.
He looked once more at the dodecahedron Toban had carved, sitting on the table. It was rough — but it had potential.
Tomorrow, it begins in earnest.