Becoming an Assistant at the Bank #2(3)
"Why are you here?"
"It's been a while, Lord."
Rockefeller bowed politely to the lord who had come to the store, leaving the lord unable to hide his perplexed expression.
It had been only a month since the lord had proposed Rockefeller become a serf.
Yet, there was Rockefeller, unexpectedly working under a goldsmith, busily attending to the store's affairs.
"I've been employed here as an assistant."
"An assistant? You've become an assistant here?"
"Yes."
"Carter, has this store been so busy that you needed an assistant?"
The lord asked Carter, who was seated nearby, and Carter responded with an awkward smile.
"Yes, things have been getting busier lately."
"Busy enough to need an assistant?"
"Yes, that's correct."
This was a small bank located on the outskirts of the empire, neither in the imperial capital of Empire nor a place of special commercial significance.
It seemed unlikely that the bank would be so busy as to require an assistant.
The lord felt a sudden suspicion, but since Carter had answered thus, he found himself without a retort.
After a long moment of pondering, the lord reluctantly smiled bitterly.
Just a month ago, he had ridiculed Rockefeller, who was in dire straits following the death of his parents, for talking about propriety and status. Now, he found himself the butt of the joke.
'He’s... lucky. Very lucky indeed. To think he'd end up working at the bank.'
The lord, swallowing his regret, made a disingenuous remark.
"So you got a job here... Good for you. It's proper for a commoner to live as a commoner, after all. A serf couldn’t possibly work here."
He tried to rationalize why the boy had gotten a job at the bank, and the picture he formed wasn’t too bad.
"If you were a tax collector's son, this kind of job would suit you. You know how to read and write, right? Did your father teach you arithmetic?"
"Yes."
"Ah, so you understand complex calculations. This job does seem to suit you then. Didn’t I tell you before? People should know their manners and their place."
Was that really what he meant?
"Yes, you did say that to me."
"Right, just as I said. It seems you've found your rightful place. Congratulations. Now that you're employed at the bank, it seems unlikely that you'll need to come under my care for the sake of your younger siblings. You'll earn a decent income. The wages here are higher than most places."
The lord glanced at Carter, who misunderstood the look and offered an off-base comment.
"Yes, I'm taking good care of everything without neglect. And I'm providing incentives as well."
"…Is that so? Keep up the good work. It's tough for someone so young to have to look after his siblings."
"Of course. I'm taking care of them well."
The lord, who had spoken insincerely, received an equally soulless response from Rockefeller.
"I will always appreciate your grace, my lord, and live diligently."
Rockefeller, who continued to smile bitterly at the lord, merely bowed his head, but inwardly he was quite pleased.
'It seems he doesn't like me being here. Well, he probably wanted me to work under him in the fields. But what can he do about it? He can't have it his way.'
"But what brings you here, my lord?"
Carter asked this on his behalf, and after the lord cleared his throat a couple of times, he began to explain the reason for his visit.
"Do you have a reason for your visit? If you borrowed money, you ought to pay the interest. I've come to pay the interest from a month ago. It's time, isn't it?"
Having finished speaking, the lord gestured to his followers, and one of them took out a pouch full of silver coins and placed it in front of Rockefeller.
"Count it to make sure it's right. It should be correct. I had the new tax collector take care of it."
Rockefeller opened the pouch and began counting the shillings the lord had brought.
Carter, wearing an ill-fitting smile, struck up a conversation to entertain the lord, who seemed bored from waiting.
"By the way, how are things going lately? Didn't you borrow gold from me for the orc subjugation task?"
"That's going very well. I called in the Hounds, the most reputable mercenary group."
"Ah, I see. Speaking of which, I saw people who looked like they were from the Hound mercenary group at our store yesterday."
"That makes sense. They would have needed shillings for their expenses here. It's inconvenient to use dalants around here, isn't it?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Did they come and cause trouble? They are said to be rough fellows, as the rumors suggest."
"They didn't really cause a disturbance. But given their fierce appearance, they would have surely been mistaken for a band of vagabonds if they had caused any trouble."
"A band of vagabonds..."
The lord chuckled and then briefly commented on them.
"You seem unaware of how remarkable they are despite their appearance. If you give them money, they really can do anything. Especially on the bloody battlefield, that's where they truly shine. There's a widespread rumor that just by making eye contact, you'd wet your pants in fear."
Rockefeller, who had counted all the interest he brought, suddenly spoke up.
"Yes, everything is correct."
After Rockefeller raised his head to meet the lord's gaze and then bowed it again, Carter, who was observing this, asked him something else.
He too had heard a lot from here and there.
"But, my lord."
When the lord turned his attention to him, Carter brought up the question he had been harboring.
For him, hiring this Hound mercenary troop was a matter of some doubt.
It was like calling a tiger to catch a mere rabbit.
"I've been wondering, why did you specifically call the Hound Mercenaries? They are quite renowned, so much so that even I, a borderland goldsmith, know of them. Wouldn't it be better to use local mercenaries or others who would do the job for a reasonable fee, especially for a simple orc subjugation?"
As Carter mentioned the economic aspect, the lord smiled faintly and then began to shake his head.
"That's not quite the case."
The lord quickly continued.
"True, as you say, calling them for just the subjugation of an orc pack doesn't make financial sense. There are many other cheaper ways to resolve the issue without resorting to them."
"But then why did you call the Hound Mercenaries? Is there some deeper meaning I'm unaware of?"
"What deeper meaning?"
Seeing the lord's confident smile, Rockefeller was sure there must be a significant reason.
