Making the Books Work For You (Solo)
Posted: Thu Dec 02, 2021 8:00 pm
Frost 75, 121
Franky was sitting at his spot at the bar, sipping on some mead, doing his daily update in his books. It was his daily routine, it was slower here in the morning, a bit more peaceful. Franky always enjoyed it. His staff was doing their usual morning work, largely prepping for the upcoming lunch rush and evening crowd. The bartenders were busy chopping limes, the servers were deep cleaning, everything running like clockwork. This was Franky's comfort zone, it didn't need any more changes.
Franky heard the door opened, but didn't look. Likely another customer. That is until a few moments later he saw Evzark nod over his shoulder, and Franky turned, his smile already at the ready. A fellow goblin, of the traditional variety, there holding a pack of what looked to be a couple dozen bedrolls all tied together. Franky snorted
a bit, "Let me guess, you're here about the board?"
The goblin nodded his head rapidly, "Yessir Misser Franky. Twenty bedrolls from Fluvio's Softies. Weren't easy Misser Franky! These is so heavy! And he only sell like two a week!"
Franky gestured to the bar stool next to him and the goblin dropped the bedrolls, scrambling up the stool, and Franky nodded at Evzark. He poured a matching flagon of mead for the little guy, who sucked down half of it, "Ah, thas the good good, Misser Franky. What they need all dese bedrolls for anyways?"
Franky never disclosed the names of the client nor the provider, but this was a useful time to answer, especially if anyone asked around about any of this. "If I remember correctly, the client was planning a family camping trip, gonna go see the Old Church."
The goblin nodded, "Thas nice Misser Franky. I took the Wartlings there two seasons ago. Lilac got poison ivy. But they had fun. The missus was an absolute toad though. So grouchy. You think she'd be happy with our twenty six kids."
Franky nodded, "Yeah, I'll have to take the grandwarts sometime. Maybe when the youngest of them are old enough to understand. You hungry, mate?"
The goblin shook his head, "Nah, the old hag is cookin' chicken feetsies. Ain't missin' out on that."
Franky laughed, "Alright, you want coin or notes?"
"Coins, ain't makin' my way to the bank anytime soon."
It was annoying how far the Central Bank was... But Franky couldn't ponder on that now, he tucked it away for later. He hopped off his stool, carrying his drink over to the jobs board. He was surprised at how much people enjoyed using it. The anonymity and financial guarantee helped a lot, both for client and prospect. He plucked the note off the board, walking around behind the bar. He set the note on the wooden top, and reached under to grab the codex. He flipped through it, finding the job based on his own type of cataloging system.
"Name?"
"Skeezix Fleafart."
Franky wrote the name down next to the job, under the name of the client. He then returned the book and unlocked the cash box, fetching the coins necessary for successful completion of the job in the time limit. He put them in a pouch for the goblin and thunked it on the bartop. "There you go, Skeezix. Say hi to the family for me."
The goblin didn't bother to count it, Franky had never once shirked anyone, smiling up at the Hobgoblin. "Will do Misser Franky." The goblin whistled as he bounded off the barstool and practically skipped his way out of the bar. Franky returned to his seat, opening his books. He made an entry labeled Jobs Board and the amount of money that was exchanged. The client only wanted five bedrolls, but Franky knew it was another thing to cross of his list for Veronica.
And none would be the wiser for it. Everyone just figured he was the innocuous middleman, the bartender who just knew all the right people. And that much was true. But this would keep anyone keeping track of large or suspicious purchases by the same person off his back. He wasn't sure what Veronica was cooking up, but it would be best to truly cover one's ass as carefully as possible.
The bedrolls would be the final thing on the list of supplies. He'd been at it all season, finally finishing it up. He'd already arranged for the transport of the materials, through the address Veronica had given him. He had made sure to arrange for multiple deliveries of other goods to other destinations through this same courier, so none of it would stand out more than any other.
He let out a sigh of relief.
It wasn't over, but at least it was handled. Franky would see to the handoff, just to ensure it went off without a hitch. but he'd need backup. "Hey Weston,"
The shaggy haired man was napping at his spot in the corner of the bar, startled awake, "Yeah Franky?"
"Think your buddy Hector might be up for a job?"
The man wiped the sleep from his eyes with his metal hand, "Probably, what sort of job?"
Franky snorted, "One that, if we're lucky, he won't have to do anything at all."
Weston snorted, "My favorite kind of job."
Franky looked at his number two, knowing he'd need his help, but couldn't risk necessarily bringing him in all the way. He trusted Weston, to do his job and anything that Franky asked, but the more people that were brought into the sphere of Veronica would be more people at risk. Bishops did not leave loose ends. They preferred more of a scorched earth tactic.
But Franky wasn't a young man anymore, his body just wasn't as strong anymore, and out of practice. And stiff ever since the final campaign, so much stiffness and soreness. He would need help. And if he had to risk anyone, he was willing to risk Weston over a member of his family, plain and simple. And Weston would agree.
This was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. "Weston, clear time for us both on the second and third of Glade. We have a meeting that day."
Weston nodded, "What kind of meeting?"
Franky's face went stern, "The kind where it would be best if Hector was watching over us as a guardian angel."
Weston smirked, "I'll make it so. Anyone else?"
Franky shook his head, "No, this needs to be kept smaller."
"Understood."
Franky finished with his bookkeeping, shutting the thick leather tome, "Anything else Franky?"
Franky was starting to rise, about to go make the daily deposit from yesterday's profits. Then he stopped, "Yeah, actually. Do you think the bank is a bit far from here?"
Weston got up from his table, bumbling about behind the bar, fetching himself a glass of water. He took a deep gulp, "Yeah, I suppose it sort of is. Especially since we don't take the side roads while carrying that much money. But I kind of enjoy the longer walk."
Franky snorted, "Probably helps the boss doesn't mind you taking your time."
Weston laughed, "Yes, it most certainly does. Though there are days I wish it could go faster. Need me one of them fancy motorbikes from the Imperium."
Franky rolled his eyes, "They are so loud and cost so much in upkeep."
Weston chuckled, "Yeah, but think what the ladies might say, bare chested, metal arms on the handlebars of one of those. I'd have to fight them off."
"I didn't realize you were having such a tough time in that department."
Weston laughed, disappearing into the kitchen to start on his breakfast.
Franky was muttering to himself, "A bank in the Knob... Operated by those who live in the Knob." His face grew long, as he wasn't displeased with how that idea sounded. He had a meeting coming up at the bank here soon, maybe he could put down some feelers, see what that might entail. He had been considering starting to acquire more land, maybe seeing how much he could develop around here. Maybe work on something bigger.
A bank wasn't a bad start. And there was that idea that Vanessa helped him think of, an Airdocks. That would be a lot of money and a lot of jobs here.
Franky took another swig of his mead. Yeah, he could make that work.
