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“It'd be easier if we just banned witchcraft from this city,” Janos grumbles as the two of you walk away. “That way we wouldn't have to worry about nonsense like this.”
“We're the Imperial Guild of Bailiffs and that's not Imperial law,” you remind him. “For as long as we remain citizens of the Empire, we're to practise tolerance, mercy and acceptance. Here I thought you'd be in favour of that, Janos.” You can't resist making that little jab, which earns a scowl from the bastard.
“Tolerance has its limits,” is all that he has to say.
You resume your patrol and before too long, Radan returns to join you once more. The next half an hour is mostly uneventful but eventually, you are stopped by a small group of workmen. In a reversal of today's trend, they claim that their foreman has stolen from them by docking their wages. They work for the East Empire Company and their contracts are more detailed than most – they stipulate a regular wage and the workers claim that even though trade has dried up over the past week, they've still earned their full pay by keeping the warehouses clean and keeping the cargo safe and secure. By making deductions, their foreman is in breach of contract.
Though you have little patience for this sort of busywork, you pay a visit to the East Empire Company's warehouse to meet with the foreman, Stanno. He's a heavyset Imperial man, almost as dark as a Redguard thanks to the many years he's spent beneath the Hammerfell sun. He wears a cordial smile on that fat face of his, at least until you mention why you've come to speak with him. A sour frown quickly replaces his grin.
“It's best that we take this to my office, gentlemen. Finances are a matter best discussed in private, don't you think?”
Leading you away from all of the crates and all of the workmen, Stanno takes you to the comfort of his office, with its luxurious furnishings. Cushioned chairs, expensive paintings and an oaken desk large enough for all four of you to sit around without any trouble. The foreman pours a goblet full of rich red wine for each of you, though only Radan partakes.
“I am aware that I am in breach of contract, officers,” Stanno explains, “yet my coffers are not limitless. My own finances come by ship and until the next company vessel arrives, there is only so much coin that I am able to hand out. That is why the wages must be rationed.”
“As true as that might be,” Radan remarks over the rim of his goblet, “a contract is a contract and as the East Empire Company operates under an Imperial charter...”
“We are not in Cyrodiil, gentlemen! This is Taneth and I respect the autonomy of this city, as well as the men who work so hard to protect it. Surely you are aware of my contributions to the Iron Wheel? Doesn't that offer me some degree of protection from these trifling matters?”
