19 Sek 637 (evening)
Blessed Bes, why do you hate me? Everything was going so well a couple of days ago. And now we’ve fired Dunlevey and we’re going off on this stupid pirate spying business instead of doing some proper adventuring at the Kingstones. And odds are, now we’re never gonna be able to hire another decent mercenary for years, if ever. Not that this gang would understand that. None of ‘em have ever had to work for a living. They don’t understand that being a mercenary’s all about reputation, and that’s all about working for people with a good reputation. And hiring folks and firing them a week later ‘cause you changed your mind, then ditching ‘em in some other town with nothing to add to their reputation except a couple of silvers, even after you just came into a big stash of cash, well, that’s not gonna do our rep any good.
I wonder if Telie even understands what he’s done? I thought he was just being a prick. I mean, now he has his own man who takes orders from him, so he gets to be the only one. And he has a whole pile of silvers now, and he says taking on a couple men is too expensive? Come on! But even after a few stints on the Lethe roads, I don’t think he really gets what it means to earn your own bread based on what you can do and what you’ve done, not an allowance from your rich old dad. Not like he was paying any attention anyway; he never did much on the road other drink and sing and try and get into every guardswoman’s chainmail panties. And I guess Markos doesn’t get it either; maybe being a pirate isn’t the same as being a guard. And if those two don’t get it, the other three don’t stand a chance. Probably never will, either. I can’t imagine any of ‘em having to earn their own bread. Odds are they’d starve.
I could have argued with ‘em about it, gods know, but what would be the point? They were willing to ditch some good men and skimp on our odds of survival just to save a few silvers. Even if I’d convinced ‘em, sooner or later they would have found some crippled excuse why they just had to get rid of the men so’s we could go off and do something on our own, and then they’d be surprised that the good ones wouldn’t hire back on with us after. Better we lose ‘em after a week and look like clueless novices, than we hang onto ‘em for months before blowing them off in some backwater somewhere. Dunlevey likes me and Falco doesn’t talk, so I doubt they’ll make a big deal in the merc dives. But if we screwed a crew out of a job when they could’ve spent those months under some reputable employer, word of that would never die, and we’d be stuck with the lazies and the crazies and the just plain stupid ‘till the end of days.
Dunno what to do about it now, though. Lady Isis, Lady Nephthys, please give me some ideas on this thing. I’ll keep my mouth shut in the meantime. No point getting in another damn argument with this mule-headed crew. When I figure out what to do, I’ll do it my own self. I’m gonna make this work, keep these guys safe and make Thricia safer, even if I have to fight ‘em every step of the way. I pray you’ll help us, great ones. Grant us your favors and your blessings, and maybe a lick or two of good sense. Hail Nephthys, and Isis, and Anhur, and all the rest. Amen.
