The merchant eyes you up and down, dubiously and then scowls at Taz. “I assume you’re talking about caravan guards.” He shifts through the parchments and pulls out a sheet about a hand’s length long and wide, then slaps it down on the desk in front of you. “This is a six month contract that you will follow my rules and provide the list of services. Follow it and room, food, suitable clothing, drink and 10 gold coins a day will be paid to you. Break this contract and I’ll have you thrown into jail for at least a year.
“Your duties are to guard any caravan I assign you to, particularly protecting the merchandise as well as my people and any family members traveling with you. While traveling with a caravan, you are never to leave sight of it, drink more than one pint of ale a day, give any information to other travelers not with the caravan or allow any strangers – particularly females – near the wagons after sunset. While not with a caravan, you are to protect my possessions, my family and my land. You are not to enter the main house without an invitation. You are never to enter the private living quarters of any member of my family or ever threaten them with a drawn weapon – drunk or sober. Any guest you bring on to the estate, you are responsible for them knowing and following the same rules. If you ever steal, endanger – directly or indirectly – my family or servants, or give information about my person, business or household to any person other than my family and I alone, then you will be held in breach of contract.”
The man then holds out a stick of charcoal to you.
You eye him, then the paper.
The merchant rolls his eyes with a groan. “I assume that you can write at least your name.”
Taz shrugs. “I’m in.” He takes the offered charcoal and scribbles a “TZ” on the parchment beneath the tight ink writing that filled most of the pale surface.
Voting is closed.
For those who missed the rules for this game check them out here!
And if you missed last week’s section, find it here.