Guild (2) – Delivery Agency
The guild operated as a delivery proxy service—one of the fastest-growing businesses in any modern metropolis. Its revenue model involved not directly employing delivery riders but instead handling the process, charging shops a monthly fee plus delivery charges, and passing the earnings on to the proxy riders. The food delivery industry made the best use of it. But our main line was olive oil supply, so it was less a delivery service and more like a courier operation. Still, calling it a delivery proxy upfront was deliberate: I planned to take yesterday's hired mercenaries not as direct employees, but as independent contractors under the guild umbrella.
"But yesterday, didn't you say you were hiring them?"
Alberto's question. I shook my head.
"I said I'd take them on as guild members, not hire them."
It sounded like wordplay, but I hadn't actually said direct employment. Truth be told, direct hires wouldn't have been a problem, but we didn't have enough oil yet to keep them busy. Conditions weren't ripe for full-time staffing.
"Instead, we'll affiliate them with the guild and broker jobs continuously through us."
In modern terms, the guild would function like a dispatch center. Primarily handling our family's business, but passing on work from partner firms when we had none. It felt like a fantasy-world guild, but since this mercenary guild focused on transport, it was closer to a modern control center.
"Brooking jobs through the guild sounds like a good idea, my lord. But..."
"But?"
"How will we secure those jobs for the guild?"
Steady work was key to retaining mercenaries. Alberto's concern was valid.
"For starters, delivering olives from the Uranos family to partners and picking up oil."
"Labor-intensive. We'll need lots of manpower."
"And we can handle requests from families friendly to ours."
The Moselris, Komnenos, and Macedonian families—all closely tied to the Uranos clan. I planned to collaborate with them.
"Finally, commissions will come from Constantinople's citizens too."
"From the citizens, my lord? Weren't the mercenaries coming to us because the oil merchants collapsed and demand dried up?"
"True. But they've overlooked something."
"What?"
"Times when people need mercenaries themselves."
Ordinary folk didn't contract mercenaries one-on-one. The leader dealt with nobles or the state, then split the proceeds. So commoners needing personal protection often never thought of hiring mercenaries. The idea of using them for special tasks beyond basic labor was fuzzy for most. Not always, but from my time here, private security was a solid market.
"We'll give them work as private guards."
"Smart. But can citizens afford to hire mercenaries?"
Unlike nobles hiring long-term, citizens needed short-term protection. Alberto was pointing that out.
"Short-term requests are perfect—no issue. And guild mercenaries choose whether to take them."
Choice, not coercion. Jobless mercenaries had to eat, so they'd grab what they could afford.
"Your plans always seem three steps ahead, my lord."
Alberto's flattery was ramping up. I smiled at him.
"Music to my ears. Here's a reward for you."
His eyes widened, hands already poised for coin. I didn't disappoint with the ultimate gift.
"I appoint you guild master."
"Thank you... wait, not money, but guild master?"
"Yes. A prestigious role, hiring and managing guild talent."
Alberto's face paled as he grasped the "gift"—more work.
* * *
"The Uranos family's recent antics are outrageous."
"Indeed. We can't just watch them ignore the bureaucratic nobles any longer!"
Nobles venting before Ioannikios Keroularios. The Malainos and Gavris families—major players in the noble faction—were especially vocal.
"Will you just stand by?"
"The Mavrozomis family took heavy losses. We must act."
Ioannikios, listening silently, finally spoke.
"I hear both your families received Mavrozomis support."
Devgoros and Alexios looked awkward at the jab.
"We took their aid, but that's not why we're speaking up."
"Exactly. We just want to stop these Varangians abusing the Uranos halo."
They skirted the truth, but Ioannikios wasn't buying it.
"I recall warning you last time: distance yourselves from the Mavrozomis clan that rigged grape prices."
Crop failure spiked grape vinegar prices; Mavrozomis profited hugely. Normally fine, but then the Bulgarian war erupted, complicating military supplies of the vinegar.
"Is this about the vinegar issue?"
"Didn't that get sorted quietly?"
"Only because the emperor doesn't know yet."
"You're too paranoid, Lord Keroularios."
Ioannikios stared silently at Devgoros, who fidgeted awkwardly.
"Anyway, be cautious. Don't interfere with our big plans."
The nobles nodded. Then the door opened, revealing Kanikleios Lord Leonus and his adopted son Michael.
"Everyone's already gathered."
Leonus smiled. The nobles bowed to the imperial steward. Keroularios greeted him.
"Lord Kalaphates. You've arrived."
"Lord Keroularios. May God's grace be with you always."
After brief pleasantries, Leonus took the head seat, Michael standing behind.
"I hope everyone here shares the same mind."
Keroularios probed cautiously.
"When might the Porphyrogenita marriage proposal go forward?"
"Once the Bulgarian war wraps up, I'll raise it with His Majesty."
The cleanup dragged due to Bulgaria's vast mountain ranges; full control took time.
"Armed control of the capital and surrounds ends soon—perhaps two months, then I'll speak."
The nobles nodded at the timeline. Eyes turned to Michael behind Leonus.
"When the Porphyrogenita match arises, we'll recommend Lord Michael."
"Yes, only he can lead this realm rightly."
Their scheme: marry noble faction's Leonus's adopted son Michael to Zoi, seizing power. Why Michael? Leonus's court influence. If Keroularios clan were the faction's powerhouses, the Kalaphates—twice producing imperial stewards—dominated the palace. As eunuchs, they adopted heirs, barring them from true leadership. Nobles respected them as figureheads in symbiosis. And Michael: blacksmith's son, commoner blood. They figured they'd puppet him as emperor. Delusion, of course.
"Haha, such praise humbles me."
Leonus beamed at the child praise, but inwardly? He'd seen talent in court; Michael's was exceptional. Leonus hid it deliberately, using nobles to elevate his house as emperor-makers.
"They're praising you—give thanks."
Michael stepped forward, bowing per etiquette.
"My gratitude for your kind words."
He retreated; Leonus and nobles plotted ahead. In the scheming chamber, Michael's gaze from behind held near-contempt. No puppet for nobles—or political tool for his adoptive father. But powerless now, he knew. He bided time, crouching low to await slaying the monsters before him.