Chapter 34: The Wages of Industry

Chapter 34: The Wages of Industry In Karl’s office, the air was still, save for the faint hum of the activated dungeon’s circuit lines pulsing through the walls. Karl paced back and forth, his skeletal fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air, a low, frustrated growl rumbling from his non-existent chest. His empty eye sockets were fixed on a mental image of tangled, glowing mana threads, a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. The flow isn’t fast enough, he muttered, the words a dry rasp. But how do I make it fast? I’ve tried numerous mana flow forms, some of them just have the same mana velocity. It’s infuriating. He had spent hours since his last trial, instinctively untangling and re-tangling the ethereal threads, aiming for a higher mana flow rating, pushing his mind to its limits, yet the solution remained just out of reach. A soft click at the door pulled him from his thoughts, a welcome interruption to his mental torment. He turned, his head snapping up. Orkesh, Mina, and Manicia stood at the threshold, their faces a mixture of exhaustion from the journey and exhilaration from their success. Rook, as always, stood silently beside the door, his cloaked form a still sentinel. "My lord," Rook intoned, his deep, synthesized voice cutting through Karl’s internal monologue, a polite but firm reminder of their presence. Karl’s skull tilted, a rare, almost genuine warmth in his voice. "Oh, there goes our best employees!" He swept a bony hand towards the artistic benches that adorned his office, their carved surfaces gleaming softly. "Come, seat, seat. Make yourselves comfortable." Orkesh, still slightly dazed by the sheer scale of the dungeon’s recent changes, gingerly sat on one of the intricately carved stone benches, its surface surprisingly smooth beneath his furred hide. Mina and Manicia followed, their eyes darting around the expensive and artistic room, taking in the polished stone, the subtle glow from the walls, and the sheer, unexpected luxury of their Lich-lord’s office. Rook remained standing, a silent, watchful presence beside the door. Karl sat opposite them, his empty eye sockets focused on Orkesh. "Well, how goes the trade? Give me the full report. Don’t leave out any details." Orkesh straightened, a confident smile spreading across his furry face. The fatigue from the journey seemed to melt away, replaced by a surge of pride. "Mr. Karl, we have sold all of our goods! Every single piece!" He paused, letting the words sink in. "It turns out, the products were received incredibly well by the folks in Stonehorn Crossing. Especially the Lupens—they’re a bunch who truly appreciate forged blades. They bought all of the weapons, including the steel ones." He leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly in awe. "And that knife with the weird flowy pattern was bought by Captain Luma herself, the captain of the knights in Stonehorn Crossing!" "And Knight Commander Urma, he purchased all of the wooden carved figurines, every single one!" Orkesh continued, detailing the success. "The rest of the toys and puzzles were bought by the other Ursaroks. They’re the ones who appreciate artistic products and items, you see. The Foxkins also bought three of the chess sets—and they pre-ordered one hundred sets upfront, Mr. Karl! One hundred!" He gestured with a sense of significant volume. "The Lupens also ordered five hundred pieces of iron swords in total, and the Ursaroks also ordered four hundred forty-one pieces of those wooden figurines in total! Captain Luma also requested a sword made from that wavy pattern steel, and she will visit in... three days’ time to pick it up!" Orkesh produced ten parchments, each meticulously detailed with lists of pre-ordered products, and handed them to Karl. Karl took the parchments, his skeletal fingers surprisingly nimble as he unfurled them. He read through the lists, a slow, satisfied smile stretching across his skull. Excellent. Beyond expectations. This is the kind of market penetration I like to see. "In total," Orkesh concluded, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed excitement, "we brought back a total of ten bags of gold. And we spent thirty golds on the list of goods, including the horse and the wagon." Karl’s smile widened, a dry, triumphant stretch of bone. "Very good, Orkesh. Very good. You’re not actually doing badly at selling. You have a knack for it." He looked at the three kobolds, their faces alight with pride, a newfound confidence radiating from them. "How about this, then? Since the townsfolk are already familiar with you, I will assign the three of you as our very own traders. You will be my primary market representatives, the public face of Necro Corp." The three kobolds exchanged nervous glances. Orkesh’s shoulders slumped slightly. Sales? All three of us? Are we even enough for such a vast responsibility? It’s a huge task, one that feels too big for just us. Karl, sensing their hesitation, continued, his voice smooth and reassuring. "But you will be given incentives, of course. All fifteen of you working for me—the five hunters, the three sales representatives, three assigned to the canteen as waiters and assistant chefs, one assigned to the slaughterhouse, and the three cleaners, Lala, Mia, and Lila, who keep the dungeon spotless—will be given a starting salary of one gold for each of you, every fifteen days." The kobolds gasped, a collective, sharp intake of breath. Manicia’s eyes widened, her mind racing with frantic calculations. One gold every fifteen days? That’s two gold per month! For me alone! She thought of the meagre copper and silver coins they used to scrounge, the constant gnawing hunger, the ever-present fear of homelessness, of being hunted. Two gold a month! It’s an unimaginable fortune, a dream they wouldn’t have dared to whisper. Orkesh’s mind was reeling with similar thoughts, calculating the collective wealth this would bring to his kin, a future free from desperation. Mina, ever the concerned one, couldn’t help but voice a practical question, her voice trembling slightly. "Uhh... Mr. Karl, what about our food and shelter? Now that we are given salaries, do we need to pay for them if we want to stay?" Orkesh and Manicia, who had been too stunned by the salary to think of such mundane details, leaned forward, listening intently for Karl’s answer. The very idea of paying for their existence within the dungeon had never crossed their minds until now. Karl smiled, a dry, knowing stretch of bone. "Good question, Mina. As for your food and shelter, they are completely free. Consider it a company benefit." He paused, letting that sink in. The kobolds’ eyes widened further. "Apart from that, every five working days, you are given two paid rest days." Orkesh, Mina, and Manicia stared at him, utterly confused. "Rest day?" Mina echoed, her brow furrowed, her small ears twitching. The concept of a "rest day" was alien to them, a luxury unheard of, let alone a paid one. Their lives had been a relentless cycle of scavenging, hunting, and fearing, every waking moment dedicated to survival. The modern standards of how jobs worked, the very idea of employee benefits, were beyond their comprehension. "Yes," Karl confirmed, his voice patient, almost amused by their confusion. "You are given two paid rest days. You can sleep for the whole day, spend time with others, or your family or friends, anything you want. It is paid by the company. You will not lose your salary for taking these days." Orkesh, Mina, and Manicia couldn’t quite believe it. Their faces, previously etched with worry and hardship, now broke into wide, incredulous smiles. They had never been given such treatment. Normally, employers didn’t give a fixed standard monthly salary; they paid per day, meaning the next day someone else might come for your job, or the employers might simply choose another. But being employed by their new boss... not only was it an absurdly good monthly pay, meaning their job was secure, but it also offered free, delicious food and shelter, and not to mention free, paid leave. It was a dream, a promise of stability they had never dared to imagine. Karl continued, a subtle shift in his tone. "Though not all of you will have rest days consecutively. It will be alternate, making sure there are still employees working at the company." He then raised a bony finger, his voice firm. "But... every working day is only dedicated to work. If you need to be absent because of emergencies, you will remind me, or the manager." As if on cue, the door behind them opened silently. A skeleton appeared, its skull slightly larger, its posture radiating an aura of quiet intelligence. Karl glanced, a flicker of satisfaction in his empty eye sockets. It was the Level 24 Strategist skeleton, the highest-leveled skeleton of all, who had kept playing chess with itself ever since the first day, honing its tactical mind. Now, it had been reassigned as the Dungeon Manager. Karl had kept tasking him with working on its thinking skills, pushing it to its intellectual limits. "Hello," the Strategist intoned, its synthesized voice calm and precise, stepping forward. Its empty eye sockets seemed to hold a depth of understanding that was unnerving. "I am the Manager. As you can guess by my role, I manage the production, dungeon layout proposals, events, marketing, sales, accounting, customer complaints, orders, and future partnerships with merchants and trading partners. I also manage all employees, including your schedules, salaries, and all your concerns should be voiced to me. In which I will report all of it, to our lord." Orkesh, Mina, and Manicia stared at the Strategist, then at each other, their initial awe at the salary now compounded by the sheer, overwhelming amount of responsibilities this single skeleton was tasked with. Manicia felt a shiver run down her spine. This... this skeleton is more organized than any living leader I’ve ever known. Orkesh could only gape, his mind struggling to comprehend the scope of its duties. They couldn’t even begin to grasp the complexity of its role. Karl smiled, a dry, satisfied stretch of bone. The Strategist wasn’t mentally trained for nothing.