It was the morning of the new year. Gram had been up early the night before celebrating with a few friends despite still working off a cold, and despite his insistence that he was a lightweight they pumped enough cheap booze into him that he thought Saint Brina herself was going to carry him off by the end.

That by itself wouldn’t be an awful thing, normally he’d sleep the combination hangover and exhaustion off and not get up until the sun set the next day. But he had made the unfortunate decision of picking up some “light work” some weeks before. This involved being an assistant in a newly started journal out of Aeroae. A small operation named “The Cobble Turner”.

His new boss, a man he neither knew the name of, nor met in person, hired him to do one specific thing. Open every day, collect any interesting rumors, secrets, theories, or gossip, and collect it. He wasn’t expected to write any stories, or publish any articles, it didn’t even seem like anyone in the neighborhood knew the place existed besides a few investors who would drop by every now and again.

In any other situation, and at any other time, Gram might have complained about the conditions. As far as he was aware, he didn’t have any days off, even holidays. He was expected to work from morning to evening, and he had to pay for his own lunch and travel expenses. Of which he had to make plentifully due to the second condition of his job. He had a certain number of “Street hours” he had to keep. This amounted to spending a few hours every day wandering around town with a notebook and pen and writing down anything he heard or saw that might be interesting.

As it was said, usually this would lead to a week of work before quitting from frustration, but the thing that kept Gram coming back for the last few weeks was the pay.

Aeroae was a coastal city on an island as the ass end of the world, which led to it being a unique mix of being the best of a bad situation where wages were concerned. A flat costed a gild or so a month, and groceries about the same, if not more. Take this and consider that the average “good” job in Aeroae usually paid you half a gild a week. That was “Normal”.

He made one gild, a day.

Within a week he had managed to pull himself out of the gutter, pay off some old gambling debts, and put some food on the table he was more sure than not was fresh when he cooked it. All with a week’s work.

When put like that, it would make no sense for him to not ride this out as far as he could. That was part of the reason that he took the job so seriously, despite how pointless it felt. All he had to do was wander around town for a few hours a day and spend the rest sitting in his practically vacant office for the rest.

When you look at the larger picture of his current life situation, it puts into perspective the severity of his hangover. Because he damned near quit when he got the call to open.

It didn’t help that while he was dragging the cold remains of his body across the street in the early hours of the morning that the whole down seemed to be in a tizzy about something. He was already dreading the street hours he was going to have to subject himself to, and hearing that it was going to be busy on top of it all did him no favors.

He got to the office just as the sun rose on the first morning of the first day of the year, and fumbled for the key when he brushed his hand against the door. It was already open.

Which was a concern, frankly.

He dreaded it, but he unclipped the club he had on his belt in case he found something inside he wasn’t going to be happy to see. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the average burglar due to the neighborhood, but the fact that the lock wasn’t picked or broken unsettled him.

Gram slowly pushed the door open, then cleared his throat as best he could without aggravating his headache.

“Oi! If anyone's in here, I’ll give you to the count of five to book it. I’ve got orders to break a leg if I need.” Gram said, lying. There was no answer, so he gathered all the will he had in him to push through. On the other side, standing out the window behind Gram’s desk, was a young man with blonde hair.

“Good morning to you as well, Gram.” The young man said.

“Hmm? Do I know you?” Gram said. The young man was dressed in finery you would only see on a noble, or the head of a trade family. But he was too young to be either of those unless somebody died. Which in all honesty wasn’t impossible considering recent events.

“No, I just came to take a look at the operation.” The young man said.

That eased the tension a bit, over the last few weeks Gram has had to entertain a few of the investors for various reasons. He learned very quickly to not ask any questions. Just from his salary alone, he realized that it was probably a lot more going on than he wanted to tangle with. He had no reason to think this was any different.

“It’s not much. I was thinking of hiring on a clerk for the filing. But I haven’t had anyone to ask about it.” Gram said, half lying, considering that the idea only came to him right then.

“I’m afraid not, the operation has to stay a one-man job.” The young man said. This struck Gram as strange, as that was the kind of decision that his nameless/faceless boss would make. But he made it so casually that Gram didn’t help but not question it.

“Right… So, was there anything you needed?” Gram asked.

“Me? Not personally. I actually wanted to have a chat.” The young man said.

This also wasn’t surprising, the various investors tended to want to know the man they paid so much, the ends of the conversations ranged between lukewarm and professionally displeased, but nobody had fired him yet and the checks kept clearing, so he hadn’t given them reason to complain that much.

This morning though? His head felt like two railroad spikes were having an intimate conversation between his ears, and without his coffee, he felt as though his eyes might betray him at a moment's notice.

“Of course.” He said, obviously not insane because the pay was just that good.

The two sat down, with the young man sitting in Gram’s fancy chair he paid for with his own money, whereas Gram was stuck in the hard wooden chair he picked up from a flea market on discount three years ago.

“First thing’s first, how are you feeling about the job? Everything meeting your expectations?” The young man asked.

“Can’t complain, you could have me hooting like a lunatic down at the docks all day and the pay would more than make up for it.” Gram said.

“Well, yes, the pay must be fine, but I mean more personally. How do you like the work?” The young man asked.

Gram paused and thought. Honestly? The work was boring, thankless, tedious, and grated on him. It wasn’t even that it was hard or difficult, but it felt as though he was doing something wrong with how little he was actually doing.

But he couldn’t say that, the quickest way to lose a job was to tell your boss you hated it and thought it was a pointless waste of time.

“It can stretch on sometimes, but the peace of mind is nice.” Gram said.

The young man sat back in Gram’s chair with a neutral expression. Gram couldn’t tell if he was displeased or not, which usually was a bad sign.

“Have you heard any interesting tidbits lately?” The young man said.

“A few things, mostly rumors though. Can’t follow up most leads I get because folk around here don’t like people asking questions where they don’t belong.” Gram said. The young man reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an envelope, he placed it on the deck and slid it over to Gram.

“What’s this?” Gram asked.

“A press pass, a Magister’s Associate ID, and two call tickets.” The young man said.

Gram was stunned into silence, the press pass and ID were one thing. With those, he could access the back rooms of any business in the city with little to no consequence, but two call tickets? With those he had a blank check for, well, anything. He could give the mayor of Aeroae a visit with one and “suggest” he head out on the street, pull his pants down, and do a dance if he wanted. These were like if the flying pig and the golden goose had a baby and the baby was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

“Are… Are you sure I can take these?” Gram asked.

“I wouldn’t have let you know they exist without being sure of that. I need you doing your best work and that's what you need to do it.” The young man said.

Gram nodded and took the folder, he didn’t dare open it then so he gingerly kept it on his lap throughout the rest of their conversation.

“Now, past that, what rumors have you heard.” The young man asked.

“Yes, I’ve heard some of the more common ones, of course. One of the Capd- I mean, A lord from the capital is coming to Betel for some reason, and he has one of the daughters from another lord in tow for reasons unclear. I’ve also heard of some commotion out west about monster activity, other than that just so local stuff. The butcher down the way is using horse and dog, the guy running the till up by the courthouse is cheating on his wife with a mizq, and there was something else going on this morning but I hadn’t gotten a chance to look into it yet.” Gram said.

The young man sat back in Gram’s very comfortable chair and smiled.

“I see, you have been doing your best then. I was half expecting you to bleat some nonsense you made up on the spot to convince me you actually did your job.” The young man said, he reached into his pocket again and retrieved another smaller envelope and placed it in front of Gram.

“What’s this? Also, what makes you think I wasn’t lying?” Gram asked.

“I’ll answer the second question first. I knew you weren’t lying because you just told me nothing I didn’t already know. Except the horse thing, I’ll have to look into that. On the first question, I’d suggest you open it and take a look.” The young man said.

Gram reached forward and opened the envelope, a single slip of paper that looked mysteriously like one of his payslips fell out. The total was…

“This can’t be right.” Gram said.

“Twenty gild, correct?” The young man said.

“Yeah…” Gram said, this was nearly a month’s pay.

Gram wasn’t sure if it was the hangover making his head go fuzzy, or if it was the reality of the situation settling on him, but he was having a hard time believing what was happening.

“What’s this for?” Gram asked.

“I value those who do right by me.” The young man said. Gram took it to heart, as did his wallet.

“One more thing, if I were you, I’d take a trip to the docks today before the ships come in.” The young man said.

“I’ll do it, but what do you think I’ll find?” Gram asked.

“That’s not important, just remember that this is going to be your first official assignment. I want a full report done and dusted before the end of the day tomorrow. Don’t worry about sending it anywhere, my people will get it. I expect good work, Gram.” The young man said.

“I’ll do my best.” Gram said, and just as he gave it enough thought to remember that he hadn’t actually given the young man his name yet, he blinked and found the young man gone.

“What in the-” Gram said, he looked around to see if he somehow blacked out in the middle of the conversation, or imagined it all, but the sun was still in the same place in the sky behind him, and the envelopes were still in his hand.

On the one hand, some kid just gave him a month’s pay, and a free ticket into any business he desired. On the other, that kid just disappeared from sight and knows his name.

In the professional world, taking a risk like this going forward is what they like to call “a gamble”. Which of course he was going to take, he already had a problem. Might as well double down.