Diary of a Rogue (13)

Part XIII:

The first week I worked at the Seahorse I pulled in over 3 silver in tips. The pay was lousy but you were supposed to make up for it in tips. A good “wench”, those who worked the bar to ply sexual favors, could make a gold a week or even more. She could retire at the end of a year or two having bought her own farm without even a single loan. This type of life was very tempting for the poor. Of course, the hidden dangers were always in the beatings, diseases, and even sometimes murders of these poor souls.

I was not a wench. My father had spoken to Salty, my boss, and informed him that he would shove a pitchfork very far into his nether regions if he so much as heard a hint of me doing this. Salty was a very smart man and kept the rowdy off of me. Of course, if he could not, I could. Drunks are not very agile.

My second week I pulled in 35 silver in tips and stolen goods. Believe it or not, most sailors after months at sea, come into town expecting to get robbed. The smart leave most of their money on ship and bring just enough to get a good carousing going. I figured I would do this for a year or two until I saved up enough money to move to a real city like Stormwind. I would find me a guild there, pay them a cut, and start doing real jobs for serious gold. A couple of good scores and I would return to Southshore, open myself an inn or tavern, and live the life of luxury the rest of my days.

Oh, the dreams of youth. So often shattered by a single event. That event to me was the arrival of a prince. No, I am not going to run away with him or get spurned by him. Let’s get to this part and be done with it.