Chapter 110: The Glided Cage

Chapter 110: The Glided Cage

The silence that followed Sage’s question stretched longer than either of them anticipated. The rotund man sat hunched over, hands clasped at his belly as if afraid they might wander where they shouldn’t.

His eyes, small, round, and surprisingly earnest for someone adorned in gemstones, shifted from the desk to the floor and back again, searching for a safe place to rest his gaze.

Sage leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest, studying him with a look that had shed most of its mockery.

The Guild Hall buzzed with the familiar low hum of voices, footsteps, and rustling parchment, but for a moment it felt as though they were sealed off in their own bubble of quiet.

"So you’re telling me," Sage said slowly and deliberately, "that you’re broke."

"Yes," the fat man replied cautiously. After a weighty pause, he added, "Completely."

Sage’s gaze flickered involuntarily to the man’s hands. Emerald rings adorned thick fingers; gold bands glimmered alongside a bracelet engraved with an ancient sigil that screamed noble craftsmanship. Even his clothes, too tight and stretched to their limits, were dyed with pigments only the wealthy could afford.

Sage exhaled through his nose, lips twitching. "You do realize you look like someone who could buy half this district, right?"

The fat man laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "That’s what everyone says."

"Then explain it to me," Sage urged, leaning forward now with elbows resting on the desk. "From where I’m sitting, you’re either lying... or you’re the most elaborately decorated beggar I’ve ever seen."

The fat man hesitated once more. This time longer. He slowly lifted one hand and stared at the rings encircling his fingers as if seeing them for the first time.

"These?" he said quietly. "They’re not mine."

Sage raised an eyebrow. "They’re on your body."

"They belong to my family," he corrected gently. "I’m allowed to wear them, that’s all."

"Not sell them?"

"No."

"Pawn them?"

"No."

"Trade them?"

"No."

"Give them away?"

He shook his head slightly; his cheeks quivered with the motion. "If I even tried... I’d be dragged back home before sunset."

Sage fell silent as he regarded him.

The fat man continued speaking now with a strange steadiness as if he had finally resigned himself to voicing it aloud.

"They make me wear these so people don’t ask questions, so no one looks too closely. When I walk through the streets, merchants bow, guards salute; strangers assume I’m important."

He let out a soft chuckle devoid of humor. "It’s easier that way, easier than explaining why a noble’s son can’t afford a meal without permission."

Sage’s gaze sharpened slightly. "So you’re not poor," he said. "You’re restricted."

The word landed heavier than the man had anticipated. His lips parted in surprise before he burst into a loud, awkward laugh that seemed almost desperate. "That’s... that’s a nice way of putting it."

"But it’s accurate," Sage replied flatly. "You’re merely a display piece, proof of status and nothing more."

The laughter faded away. For just a moment, the fat man’s facade slipped, revealing exhaustion, quiet resentment, and the shame of being dressed like royalty while feeling like a burden.

Sage leaned back again, fingers idly tapping against the armrest. "And you came here," he mused, "because you think this place is different."

The man nodded eagerly. "Yes."

"Why?" Sage raised an eyebrow.

"Because everyone hates it," he answered without hesitation.

Sage blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"The nobles," the fat man clarified, his eyes lighting up with an unexpected spark of excitement. "They despise this place! They complain about it at dinners and meetings, even at home! They call it crude, dangerous, uncontrolled, at least that’s what I’ve heard and seen."

He smiled wide and sincere. "So I figured... if they hate it, maybe it’s honest."

That earned him a short laugh from Sage. "That’s the dumbest logic I’ve heard all day." After a pause, he added with a smirk, "And also one of the smartest."

Encouraged now, the fat man shifted in his seat. "I don’t want power or glory or titles or recognition. I just want... something I earned myself, something no one can take away just because they feel like it. I want to prove to them that I can make something out of this miserable life and not just be a fat pig who only knows how to eat."

His hands clenched slightly as he continued, "I want to wake up knowing I’m useful somewhere."

Sage studied him in silence for several moments before finally speaking up. "I do have a job."

The fat man froze in shock. "Y...You do?"

"Yes," Sage replied calmly. "This place is booming, adventurers by the hundreds are flooding in; commissioners are lining up with paperwork and registrations galore."

He gestured vaguely at the chaos surrounding them. "I can’t keep doing this alone without either losing my sanity or collapsing from exhaustion."

The fat man’s eyes widened.

"But before we go any further," Sage continued sharply, "I need to know something: Can you read?"

"Yes," the fat man said quickly.

"And write?"

"Yes."

"Can you count?"

The fat man hesitated before replying cautiously, "...I’m not great at mental arithmetic but give me a ledger and some time and I won’t make mistakes."

Sage nodded slowly. "That’s already more than half the city,"

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a stack of parchment, sliding one sheet free. The scratching of his pen filled the air as he began to write.

"This is an employment contract," Sage said without looking up. "Nothing fancy, no nonsense. Clear duties and clear pay."

The man swallowed hard. "Pay?"

"Ten gold coins a month."

The reaction was immediate.

"Ten...?!" The fat man gasped, eyes widening in disbelief. "Ten gold coins? A month?!"

Sage glanced up, unimpressed. "Is that too little?"

"No! No, it’s... it’s actually a lot!" the man exclaimed, nearly knocking over his chair as he stood halfway in excitement. "That’s more than I’ve ever had at one time!"

Sage raised a hand. "Sit down before you break something."

The man complied, his cheeks flushed with enthusiasm.

Sage returned to writing, maintaining a neutral expression while his thoughts churned. Ten gold coins isn’t generosity; it’s compensation.

He understood all too well how grueling this job could be, endless registrations, constant interruptions, adventurers breathing down his neck, commissioners who thought shouting made them important. Stamping documents, verifying rewards, managing disputes, it wasn’t glamorous; it was exhausting.

And he knew better than anyone what it did to a person.

"That salary reflects the workload," Sage said aloud. "If I could pay more right now, I would. But until the Guild upgrades its resources, this is what I can offer."

Boren nodded vigorously. "It’s more than enough."

Sage finished writing and slid the contract across the desk.

"Name," he instructed.

Boren hesitated for a moment but then straightened his back. "Boren," he said confidently. "Boren Stonehelm."

Sage paused when he heard that name; he committed it to memory and noted that Pax would need to look into it when he had the chance.

Sage exhaled softly and signed the contract. "Alright, Boren Stonehelm," he said. "Work hours start at seven in the morning and we close around midnight."

Boren’s eyes widened in surprise. "Midnight?"

Sage leaned back in his chair and adjusted his glasses. "It’s necessary," he replied simply. "You’ll understand soon enough. But this is only temporary, when the Guild hires more staff, the time will be adjusted, so bear with it for now."

The fat man nodded but then hesitated again. "I can start today."

Sage shook his head firmly. "No. Tomorrow."

"...Why?"

"Because orientation matters," Sage explained calmly. "And if I let you start tonight, you’ll collapse before sunrise."

Boren laughed sheepishly as he stood up, smoothing out his robes before bowing deeply—though awkwardly.

"Thank you," he said earnestly.

Sage waved him off dismissively. "Go eat something decent and come back tomorrow."

As Boren turned toward the door, his steps were lighter than when he’d entered.

As Boren stepped out of the Guild, Sage leaned back in his chair and let out a slow breath.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself.

The Guild had just welcomed its first staff member, and Sage sensed that this new addition would have a significant impact, one that might surprise everyone.