Newcomers (7)
"What? What the hell did you just say, you mad bastard?"
"Build it big enough for a hundred people."
Ukun shook his head, looking utterly baffled by my idea.
"You crazy fuck... Just how big are you planning to make this shit...?"
"Anyway, a hundred it is. Right here."
I took the stick from Ukun and pointed to the empty plot next to the bathhouse. The land we'd bought for the bathhouse was huge to begin with—after building it, we still had about two-thirds left over.
"Here? For a hundred, we'll need a staff cafeteria too, and a break room... Hmm, let me think..."
Ukun seemed to run some quick calculations in his head before nodding.
"Perfect. Good size, and with the bathhouse smack in the middle, we can link hallways to connect the inn, bathhouse, and staff dorms all together."
We hashed out the rough budget and other specifics. In my judgment, the inn was on an upward trajectory. Word had spread that the queen herself had visited, drawing crowds. It'd only grow from here—no chance of shrinking. There wasn't another spot like ours in the entire kingdom, hell, even counting neighboring countries. I had savings, my pension, and Marquis Kekers' letter of introduction. All I needed was the will—and the resolve not to fuck it up midway. To back that up, we needed staff dorms that could handle a hundred employees.
I wasn't planning to hire a hundred right away. But in a few years? They'd fill up for sure.
Ukun threw out a rough estimate and bolted off to the elder dwarves. When they heard about dorms for a hundred, the elder dwarves burst into booming laughter.
"A hundred? That's some batshit crazy math right there!"
The dwarves got all fired up, raising their voices as they dove into detailed discussions among themselves.
The half-elves spent the next two days kicking back at the inn, eating and lounging to their hearts' content. I bought them fishing rods for winter fishing in the Buren River, slipped them some pocket money, and let Marim lead them on shopping trips around town. Of course, with plenty of folks in Rosens still prejudiced against half-elves, I assigned Orkog to tag along—nobody sane would pick a fight with a guy bigger than most orcs or trolls.
The half-elves were thrilled every minute. Late nights after guests left, they'd splash around in the bathhouse, gorge on Francois' cooking, dance to Kosa's songs. It was like cramming years of age-appropriate fun they'd never had into two blissful days.
Meanwhile, I headed to City Hall to sort paperwork with Hildeva. Here's how it worked: I'd "rescue" these poor half-elves scraping by in the woods near Lenditofte by hiring them at the inn. City Hall, recognizing this under anti-discrimination laws for early integration, would allocate "employment incentives"—basically subsidizing part of their wages.
Win-win all around: I saved cash, half-elves got paychecks, City Hall scored points with the palace, the palace got its tough new laws taking root fast. Sure, anti-half-elf citizens might bitch about their taxes going to "those things." But Verabche Kingdom wasn't some barbaric medieval backwater—the palace set the tone, and using taxes lawfully was ironclad.
With the formalities squared away, all that remained were individual work contracts for the half-elves.
"Give us a bit on those. Some of the half-elves are still hesitant."
"No rush. It's not like we need palace approval—this is a city initiative."
Hildeva set the papers aside, took a sip of hot tea, and asked,
"By the way, Bertrand. I've been wondering."
"Shoot."
"When Her Majesty visited last time, it felt like you two had a personal rapport."
"Yeah... Like I told you when we met, I worked at the palace a bit. Chatted with her a few times back when she was still princess."
"I see... And the mage Brione too?"
"Yep, sorta. She was an apprentice at the palace back then."
Hildeva nodded thoughtfully and dropped it.
"Oh, and Mayor— we're building staff dorms next to the bathhouse."
"Sounds good. Send over the blueprints when ready; I'll dispatch staff to inspect."
New builds required city checks for code violations or potential misuse as military outposts. Only after full vetting and mayoral approval could construction start. Same process as the bathhouse.
After chatting more with Hildeva, I headed back to the inn.
Marim reported she'd convinced the rest of the half-elves. I gathered the staff to divvy up the twenty-plus hires.
First, per original plan: ten to the Monster Zoo for guiding visitors, cleaning, odd jobs—older kids suited for outdoor work.
"Bathhouse could use four too. Two boys, two girls," Della chimed in. So four there.
"Deliveries are too much for me alone now. Use the kids for nearby runs?" Marim's idea made sense—four more for deliveries.
"Um... Hero sir... Sorry to ask, but... could you spare some boys for the souvenir shop...?"
"Souvenir shop?"
"Work's piling up—we just need 'em for customer service and workshop cleanup."
Two boys to the demon-run souvenir shop.
"Rest on inn chores? Room cleaning, trash duty."
"Good call. Not bad."
Half-elf assignments done—balanced by age and gender, with tweaks as we go.
"Expect guest complaints short-term, like with Marim at first. Celereja handled it then, but she's at the temple now—we're on our own."
I briefed the waitstaff on the palace-issued anti-species-discrimination law.
"Frame it as a palace and city-backed national project, not my solo gig. We'll hang framed docs on walls, but nobody reads 'em anyway."
"Got it."
"If words fail, fetch me. I'll sort it."
The staff nodded; only Aterugar scowled like something irked her.
"What the hell's your problem now?"
"All these piddly shits crowding in, making noise!"
"Says the piddly one yourself. You look half-elf enough nobody'd know the difference."
Marim dramatically covered her mouth, giggling pointedly.
With talks wrapped, we called the half-elves for contracts. I sat the kids down, explained every line in detail till even the youngest got it, then had them sign. Marim roamed, laying down the law.
"You brats pull shit later—demanding raises, special tasks? I'll whoop your asses myself!"
Marim knew full well they were here because human staff got mass-fired. Slack off, and they'd all get booted like them. Even with the new law, societal bias wouldn't shift for decades—could spark underground lynchings instead. Our inn was the safest spot.
I sent Marim to City Hall with the contracts. Almost wrapped up.
Staff led half-elves to the zoo, bathhouse, etc., for intensive training. In weeks, they'd be full-fledged Salvation Inn employees.
Staff numbers swelling now—lumping vets with newbies as "employees" or "waitstaff" felt off. Just call 'em mid-level staff. Simple, right?
That evening, Ukun showed up with blueprints.
"Four floors total. First: cafeteria and amenities. Rest: dorms. All double rooms."
Twenty doubles per floor, ten each side of the central stairs.
"Top floor half: you and vet staff rooms, plus meeting room."
"Nice. But these web-like lines?"
"Ah, those are plumbing pipes linking every room."
"Pipes? For what?"
After Ukun's explanation, I couldn't believe it, tilting my head.
"So... pump river water up so every room has running water... and separate pipes for toilets to flush waste out...? What kind of ridiculous..."