The afternoon filled, then gradually emptied again.
The three remaining guard positions disappeared from the list faster than Beorn expected.
Each man introduced himself without preamble. Beorn ran them through the same sequence of questions he had used on Godric. None of them asked the question Godric had asked. That absence told him something.
What they did have was physical presence, basic training, and a willingness to accept eight a month, paid reliably. That was enough.
He hired all three and recorded their names beside a running column of figures that had begun to resemble something real.
The other open roles filled more gradually.
A second runner appeared, followed by a woman who had once kept records for a salt merchant until the merchant's contract became something she could no longer remain part of.
By the time Aestrith returned from the corridor with the next name, Beorn had already filled a page and a half with notes. The charcoal had worn down to a narrow point that was becoming difficult to hold.
He had been dragging it across the margin between interviews without thinking, leaving short marks behind. They carried a direction to them, even where they failed to close.
He replaced the worn piece with a fresh one and turned the page.
"Lewin," Aestrith said.
She stepped aside.
Lewin entered and stopped a few steps inside.
Something about the way he stood was difficult to place. He was neither relaxed nor openly guarded. His feet were set for movement, nothing fixed too firmly. Ready without displaying it.
His hands rested at his sides.
The coat was the familiar slums coat, carefully maintained despite its age.
He met Beorn's eyes and waited.
"You came."
"Said I'd think on it." Lewin shifted his weight slightly. "So I did."
"Sit down."
Lewin took the chair. His attention moved briefly across the desk, the pages of notes, the charcoal still moving in Beorn's hand even while he spoke.
Then his gaze returned to him.
The room had cooled since morning. Something moved through the corridor outside, then faded.
"The position available right now is guard work," Beorn said. "Citadel security. Day hours, exactly like the notice stated. You'd be back by evening."
"I know. Asked around before I came."
The charcoal paused.
"Who did you ask?"
"Man near the south gate. Heard someone from the citadel had been down in the slums talking to folk." Lewin held his gaze. "I don't step into work blind if I can help it."
The charcoal resumed its steady motion.
"And what did he tell you?"
"That the prince showed up this week and started hiring straight off. Said the last representative barely hired anyone. Never stayed long enough to bother with it."
A brief pause.
"He also said some people got turned away for not being on a list." Lewin leaned back slightly. "Sounded like the sort of thing worth remembering."
Beorn studied him for a moment.
"You have work experience. What kind?"
"Whatever paid. Construction. Hauling. Worked the eastern stalls during busy season a few times."
He shifted in the chair.
"And I can handle myself, if that's what you're asking."
"How did the knuckles happen?"
Lewin glanced at his right hand. The healed split along the outer line of the knuckle was still visible.
"Three months back. Some men near the south entrance decided the building my mother lives in belonged to their turf."
His eyes lifted again.
"Turns out it didn't."
"Were you ever employed through any of the larger operations in the city? The warehouse district, the mine crews, Coss's supply network?"
Lewin's expression barely changed, though he waited a moment before answering.
"Near some of it. Moved goods for contractors tied to Coss's network. Never worked for his people direct."
He held Beorn's gaze.
"Made certain there was a difference."
"Why?"
"Because folk who go in proper don't always come back out." His tone stayed plain. "I've got people waiting on me to make it home."
Beorn wrote that down. The mark beside the note was a single diagonal line.
"Your sister. Age?"
"Fifteen. If I come up short on food, she helps the woman downstairs for meals. She's capable enough."
A pause.
"Shouldn't have to be."
"And your mother?"
"She manages. Mostly. But the building still needs heating and food still costs what it costs."
His palms rested against his knees.
"Money's tight. That's why I'm sitting here."
"Eight silver a month," Beorn said. "Paid monthly, without delay. Day hours only. The position answers to this office and nobody else."
Lewin watched him carefully.
"I know how that sounds," Beorn continued. "And I know what the garrison's actually been paying."
His voice remained even.
"What I'm telling you is how the position works."
"Different how?"
"The pay arrives. Every month. On the day it's supposed to."
Beorn didn't look away.
"I'm not asking you to take that on faith. I'm telling you how it runs."
Lewin took a moment with that.
Outside the window, the light had sunk lower. Shadows stretched longer across the floor than they had that morning.
"I'll take it."
The answer came with the same directness as everything else he had said.
Beorn wrote Lewin's name into the column and looked over the list. Aestrith's page had dwindled to confirmed names and empty lines. Most of it was in place now.
He glanced up.
"Tomorrow morning. Godric will be here. Work with him until you understand the building."
Lewin rose. His eyes passed once more over the desk, the marked margins, the growing stack of documents.
Then he turned and left.
Aestrith closed the door behind him.
"That completes the list."
She was already checking the page in her hand, confirming the remaining entries.
"Everyone is accounted for."
Beorn set the charcoal down and examined the page before him. The marks had become the outline of a functioning household.
Guards. Runners. Staff.
Enough to operate.
He leaned back and closed the ledger.
"Good."
Aestrith folded her paper and slipped it into her coat. She crossed toward the window, as she usually did when she finished something and preferred not to draw attention to the shift.
Outside, the city was moving toward evening. Market stalls would soon close. The warehouse district would quiet. Other parts of the city would begin their night routines.
The knock came while she was still standing there.
A light knock. Uncertain, as though the person on the other side wasn't entirely sure they should be knocking at all.
Beorn looked toward the door.
"Come in."
The girl who entered looked fourteen, perhaps younger.
Her clothes had been chosen carefully. Clearly the cleanest things available to her. Her hair had been tied back with the same care.
She lingered in the doorway a moment, taking in the room.
Then she stepped forward and stopped a few feet inside.
Her eyes moved first to Beorn, then briefly to Aestrith by the window, before returning to him.
"Heard you were hiring."
Her voice was steady.
Beorn studied her without looking toward Aestrith.
"Sit down."
She sat. Her fingers folded into her lap and remained there.
"What's your name?"
"Tam."
"How old are you, Tam?"
"Fourteen."
He wrote it down. The charcoal drifted along the margin again.
"Who do you live with?"
"My sister." She met his gaze evenly. "Just my sister. Our parents died when I was nine. She's worked since then."
"How old is she?"
"Nineteen."
"What kind of work does she do?"
"Mending mostly. Knitting too. She's good at it." A faint hesitation. "There's usually enough work between the slums and the residential district for us to manage."
A brief pause.
"We were managing. Then the rent went up two months ago."
Beorn watched her carefully.
She had the look of someone prepared to be refused.
"Why did you come yourself?" he asked. "Why didn't your sister come?"
"She's finishing a commission due tomorrow. If she misses the day, she loses the work."
Tam sat a little straighter.
"I'm the one who could spare it."
Aestrith had not moved from the window. She watched the exchange in silence.
"What can you do?" Beorn asked.
Tam considered the question honestly.
"I can carry things. Run messages. Clean proper." Another small pause. "I can read and write too. My sister taught me. Said it was important."
"She was correct."
Beorn added another note.
"Have you worked before?"
"I help in the building where we live. The woman on the first floor's old, so I clean for her sometimes and she shares food with us."
She glanced down briefly before looking back up.
"I know that isn't proper work."
"It counts."
Something shifted in her expression for an instant, then disappeared.
"The position available is house-hand," Beorn said. "Cleaning, carrying messages, and whatever tasks come up that don't fit elsewhere."
"The work itself isn't complicated, but there's plenty of it."
He looked directly at her.
"Day hours. You return home each evening."
She nodded once.
"My sister will want me home every night."
"You would be."
Beorn watched her a moment.
"The pay is four silver a month. The first payment arrives at the end of the first month if you begin this week."
She went still.
For a moment her eyes lost focus slightly, fixed somewhere beyond the room.
"That's enough," she said at last.
The certainty in it was immediate.
"Good."
Beorn wrote her name down.
"Come tomorrow morning. Ask for Godric at the front gate. He'll be expecting you."
She stood, eased the chair back into place, and headed for the door.
At the threshold she paused and looked back.
"Thank you."
Then she left.
The door closed softly behind her.
Beorn remained seated with the ledger open before him. The column was complete now. Names, positions, pay. A full day's decisions set down in ink and charcoal.
His eyes rested briefly on Tam's name at the bottom before he closed the ledger.
Aestrith still stood near the window. Her arms were folded now, her attention resting somewhere on the wall instead of the city outside.
"That's the day," Beorn said.
"Yes."
Aestrith left first.
He followed and pulled the door shut behind him.