67th of Spring, 511 AV
"Of course, it's right next to the gates," Rhode said to himself, standing in front of the Welcome Center. Because of his refusal to accept directions from the knights at the gate yesterday, he hadn't been able to find the Housing Authority until it was well into the afternoon. And though he was now residing in one of the sad, little, windowless cubes within the citadel, he still required a way to pay his expenses. Such a cruel trick, that he could have dealt with this problem yesterday if he hadn't been so stubborn. "I found it eventually," he muttered, reassuring himself. If he had known where to go yesterday, he wouldn't have seen as much of the city as he had. In his head, he hadn't done anything improper, and there was nothing to regret. Rhode deftly drew his comb from his pocket, adjusting his hair. Fixing himself up without a mirror was a tricky science, but it helped that his hair was fairly easy to manage. After a few moments, satisfied with himself, he stashed his comb back in his pants' pocket, stood up straight, and prepared to enter the Welcome Center with confidence.
Just as he began to reach for the door, he stopped short, suddenly realizing something. His previous work involved travelling the roads with traders, keeping them safe during their journeys, and dealing with their problems the only way he truly knew how: by punching the problem in the face until it stopped being a problem. And up until now, that's really all that he needed to do to get paid. But in Syliras, protection was handled by the knights.
What good is a man's fists in this city? he thought to himself, unsure of his abilities. Rhode quickly searched his mind for an occupation that would allow him to use his talents to the fullest. He had passed by a gambling joint yesterday, would they pay him to fight there? No, he thought, scolding himself for even considering the idea. Fighting for the entertainment of others, especially for the entertainment of lesser races? My father would roll over in his grave. Perhaps the Syliran Knights? Impossible, he told himself. They would never have me, not without changing me. As he rapidly ran through potential jobs that would allow him to continue fighting, he soon realized the truth: the only way to make money from fighting is to fight for the sake of other people. I'm done with that. That's why I'm here, isn't it?
Rhode blinked, an afternoon breeze bringing him back to reality, his hand still hovering in front of the door. Then, he smiled, as he realized that he was getting worked up over nothing. "This city is killing me, already it's making me think like a human." Rhode pushed the door open and stepped inside, confident once more. The Welcome Center was practically empty, except for a human who sat behind a desk. He didn't bow, or take a seat, he simply spoke his intentions.
"My name is Rhode. I seek employment, in the realm of 'unskilled labor', and I have six hands to do it with."