Making Ends Meet (Solo)

[Seidaku]

Timestamp: 55th Day of Summer, 511 A.V

Sitting in his single, rickety chair, Seidaku peered down into the equally battered chest sitting on the scuffed wooden floor next to a desk with a scarred and stained top. That is whole lot of second hand, worn out furniture, he thought with a sigh. In a bout of honesty, he admitted that his entire home was closer to a hovel than it was anything else.

And now, after years of living there unconcerned, he was ashamed of it. Vhanet had not said anything, she was too kind for that. But he had seen the look of distaste that flitted across her face when she had first entered his home. Looking around the single room of his living space, for the first time he wanted more. A desk with legs of equal lengths and an unpitted surface. A chair that did not creak ominously when he sat down. A bed that did not sway nearly to the ground toward the middle.

Which brought him back to the battered chest he was still staring forlornly down into. At the bottom of the chest, obscrured by his toiletries, in a small leather pouch, was all of his worldly wealth. A little over fifty gold rimmed mizas. Two seasons ago, it had seemed a princely enough sum. Augmented with menial labor on occassion, it was enough to provide him with food and shelter.

That was the extent of what it provided, though. He could not treat Vhanet the way she deserved with his meagre stash of mizas and his hovel. He could not afford new furniture. He could not afford books, or other academic supplies. He could not do much beyond wasting away here, subsisting on the dregs of acadamia that he could scrounge together from the Conundrum.

In order to improve his situation though, he needed mizas.

He needed a job.

[Seidaku]

The question was, what job? He had tried his hand as both a sculptor and as a painter, more at the urgings of his parents than out of any particular skill or desire. Regardless, he doubted that he could produce anything that he could sell to cover even the cost of materials.

He sighed and leaned back, the chair creaking ominously beneath him. His only real interest was the pursuit of knowledge, but he doubted that anyone would be willing to pay him to for that pursuit. In fact, the reverse was typically the truth of things. If he wanted the benefit of experience, he had to pay for it, rather than the other way around.

Seidaku's chair thumped to the ground at the realization. If he wanted the benefit of experience, he would have to pay for it... just like anyone else. He could not be the only one in Alvadas who desired knowledge, and if they wanted to know, they would have to pay.

If they were going to pay anyway, why not pay him? He was knowledgeable. And he had taught students before. It was perfect. He would be a teacher.

[Seidaku]

The last few hours had not been pleasant. Not to put too fine a point on things, they had been an absolute hell of rejection and disappointment.

He had known from the start that he was going to have to go out and find someone to teach. He could not rely on students like Wrenmae or Vhanet to stumble upon him be idle chance if he was to have any hope of making a living at this. But the level of rejection had been apalling.

Alvadas did not have quarters, or even clearly defined sections, as he had read of in many of the other cities. But there was a certain ordering of things. The abodes of the wealthy always seemed to travel in a loose pack. They were never in the same order, but they were always near eachother. He had not been inclined to study the phenomenon, but he susepcted that there was an underlying logic to their movements and placements. Possibly as a determination of the occupant's status in the eyes of the city, and therefore in the eyes of Ionu.

How they were organized was ultimately immaterial to what he had needed, though. House after house he had approached, announced himself, and waited to be received. In a way, the homes that he had simply been ignored had been the easiest. In those, it was possible for him to convince himself that there was simply no one home. The masters and mistresses of the houses were away at work or play, and all of the servants were away on errands. It was not a terribly convincing lie, but it was one that he willed himself to believe.

One encounter stood out in his mind as a perfect example of the way his day had gone thus far.

Seidaku stood on the streets of Alvadas, the crowd passing around him and jostling him lightly in the process, staring down a slender, tree lined boulevard that terminated in a circle in front of what could only be described as a mansion. Surely anyone who lived in a house like that could afford a teacher for either themselves or their children. It would be perfect, nothing like the others that had preceded it.

Brushing futilely at the front of his threadbare shirt and pants, he took a deep, steading breath and walked toward the building that loomed at the end of the boulevard. The entire estate was quite lovely. A narrow path, paved now with shimmering, rainbow hued scales took him beneath trees with leaves of alternating blazing fire and flowing water. Paired with the opulence of the mansion, standing a truly inspired three stories tall, the entire package was... intimidating.

With another steadying breath, he wiped a sheen of nervous sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and nodded to himself. He was ready. He had practiced this line dozens of times, and then more at each house that had rejected his services.

He reached up and grasped the end of a silken pull rope and was rewarded with the musical tinkling sound of bells. It took every fiber of his self control not to fidget in the minutes - it felt like hours - that it took before the door was answered by a gentleman in a black suit who was just as sturdy looking as the worked stone of the building he stood in the doorway of.

After a quick glance in which Seidaku felt weighed, measured to the ounce, and found wanting, the servant quirked an eyebrow questioningly rather than wasting time with pleasantries.

"Oh, umm, good afternoon, sir," Seidaku began, offput by the man's brusque lack of greeting, "If I might have a moment of your master's time, I believe-"

"No," was the man's reply, delivered as a dismissive grunt as he began to swing the door closed in Seidaku's face.

"Wait!," Seidaku cried, hurling himself forward to block the closing door, "Wait, wait, please wait. A, umm, moment of your time, then. Please, if you just hear me out, I believe your master will be interested."

He took the fact that the servant did not hurl him bodily away or continue to close the door through his torso as a sign that he should continue, "I would like to offer my, ah, services as both a scolar and a teacher to your master or his chidren. I can speak, as well as, umm, read and write both the Common language as well as the Ancient Tongue. As well, I am knowledgeable in matters of both mathematics and philosophy, and would be interested to provide lessons in, ah, any of those subjects for only a small fee."

His spiel concluded, Seidaku waited for a reply. The longer the silence stretched, the more certain he was of failure. After almost a chime spent scrutizing the scholar on his the doorstep, the servant finally chuckled and asked, "Son, how many time have you been rejected so far?"

Seidaku visibly deflated. Another failure. He knew it. "Eleven," he said with a sigh.

"Then this is number twelve," he said with a shake of his head. He half turned away before facing back and adding, "Might want to set your sights a little lower. Dressed like you fell out of a rag bin, but at least you put in the effort to try and get cleaned up... I wouldn't pay you to teach my children, let alone what Master Edgington would say of you. Come back in a few years and try again."

Seidaku managed a weak smile and a half bow, "Thank you, sir, for the advice."

With the metallic click, the door closed behind him and Seidaku trudged back to the street, head down and defeated yet again.

There had been another three houses with similar results before he had finally conceded that the man had been right. He would need to aim at a more reasonable target if he were to succeed.

[Seidaku]

Timestamp: 56th Day of Summer, 511 A.V.

Which was how he found himself facing down a narrow dirt road framed on both sides by small hovels. The similarity between their hovels and his own caused him to sigh. Though, he did understand now why the city tended to keep them separated. Seeing them all lumped together like this made them seem even more depressing.

Just looking down the row of buildings, he knew that they would laugh in his face if he asked them to pay a price that a noble would not even notice. Still, if he could not manage quality employment, he would have to make due with quantity. Perhaps, offering the same service to multiple families for a greatly discounted price, he could get them to agree to hire his services.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath, he tried to visualize his success. Much the same way he did with when trying to call forth a magical effect, he formed an image of himself in his mind, walking door to door and selling a valuable product at a fair price.

Opening his eyes, Seidaku started toward the nearest of the homes, trying to quell the roiling sensation in his stomach.

[Seidaku]

Every visit had been a variation of the same basic scenario.

With a smile that hoped for charming and only made it as far as nervously faked, Seidaku approached the battered wooden door of the next home in the line. After his knock, he could hear the sounds of movement behind the door, footsteps and muttered voices.

After a wait of almost a chime, during which Seidaku could feel his stomach somewhere in the back of his throat with the bitter taste of nervous acid, he heard the sound of the rope on the inside of the door being untied and the door itself finally opened several inches to reveal the face of a dirt stained man glaring out at him. The man's gaze looked Seidaku up and down, then darted to either side, obviously searching for companions, "What do you want?"

Seidaku's already weak smile slipped further at the hostility in the man's tone, "Good afternoon, sir," he said, offering his hand in a greeting that the man eyed and then did not accept. He kept from wetting his lips through an act of sheer willpower, "I would like to offer my services as a teacher to your family. I can, ah, tutor your family in reading and writing, mathematics, and other skills that have the potential to, um, provide a great deal of potential for gainful employment. I can assure you that my prices are more than reasonable."

The man scowled at Seidaku, "Hold on." The door closed in his face and he heard footsteps moving away from him on the other side. Straining his ears, he could make out muffled voices on the other side, the gravelly rumble of the man he had spoken to, a higher voice that he assumed was the lady of the house, and an excited murmur that was quickly silenced that could only be a child.

He was rocking back and forth on his heels, steadily convincing himself that they would refuse his services and throw him out on his ear, when the door opened again. This time, he was greeted by the smiling face of a woman in her middle years, "Good morning, Master..."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, "My name is Seidaku."

"Master Seidaku," she finished with another welcoming smile, "We would be delighted to take you up on your offer, but we have a few questions before we agree."

"Of course," he replied, his answering smile coming more easily now that he was not faced with hostility, "I will be, ah, happy to answer any of your questions."

Her questions proved to be nothing that he had not accounted for, and so his answers came easily. What would he be teaching, where, and how often? He was offering to teach her or her husband as well as their child? Where was he trained? This answer was delivered hesitantly, as he admitted that, other than a few tutors of his own, under similar circumstances as he was proposing now, as a child, he was largely self-taught from books and scrolls.

Finally, the conversation came to what he realized would be the final obstacle to success at this house. The price of his services.

"I charge one silver Miza per student per day," he answered, "With frequency of attendance, um, being determined now and able to change seasonally."

"That is a great deal of coin, Master Seidaku," she said with a small shake of her head, "I do not think that we would be able to gather that many Mizas, as much as we would like to hire your services. Would you be willing to accept a silver Miza both my husband and our son, for a lesson every other day?"

Seidaku tried and failed to keep his excitement off of his face, as he nodded. At a previous house, he had gone even lower than that before the deal had finally been struck. "Of course, ma'am. I understand the, umm, realities of life."

After that, it had been nothing but technicalities of ensuring that he knew the names of who he would be teaching, how often, and the other details of his service.

He walked away from the home with a broad grin on his face. His endeavor was beginning to gain momentum.

Up and down first this street, and then another, and another after that, Seidaku populated a crumpled sheet of parchment with a line of names and numbers that would slowly but surely fill his coin purse and allow him to provide a better life in Alvadas for himself, and more importantly for Vhanet.

His failures far outweighed his successes, but eventually he had enough to make ends meet. He had assembled four classes of varying size that would meet at varying times over the course of the seasons.

[Seidaku]

Timestamp: 58th Day of Summer, 511 A.V.

What he realized immediately was that no one had bothered to inform him that speaking in front of a crowd of people, all of them waiting for you to teach them and judging your every word, was exponentially more terrifying than just walking up to them on the streets. He could feel oily, nervous sweat beading on his forehead, and a sour taste at the back of his mouth that matched the roiling somersaults that his stomach was doing.

And he was not even there in front of them, yet. I was a fool to think I could do this, Seidaku thought with a sign, leaning against the stone wall fronting the street and letting his head drop back in dejection, I was a fool to think I could do it, and they were fools for accepting.

Setting out early to take into account Alvadas often whimsical nature, he had received at least a bell early for his class, judging by the position of the sun. Which had given him plenty of time to panic and then hide around the corner from the small open area in front of the Garden. Spying the students of his first class trickling into the area had done nothing to ease his nerves. He still felt lightheaded and on the urge of vomiting.

With a speed that could only be described at horrifying, the time for him to make an appearance came, and then slowly slid past as he tried to work himself up to round the corner and stand in front of his class. His giggle at the thought had a manic tinge. His class. This was a mistake.

But it was a mistake that he was committed to.

With his stomach sitting firmly in his throat and his hands shaking and damp palmed, he turned the corner and started toward the gathered pupils before he could stop himself. With a smile that looked more ill than friendly, he greeted the assembled students, "Good morning, class."

His already weak smile slipped further when the only response was a smattering of murmured replies. If he could not get them involved, they would not come back. And if they did not come back, the meager earnings he would get from them would go with them. It was a selfish though, he could admit that. But he needed to eat.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, and sweating more from the weight of the stares than from that of the sun, he began his lesson.

"To, umm, start with... Why is reading or writing important?"

No answer. His students looked at each other, and he saw one or two shrugs. Then, they were all looking at him, some intently, the majority bored already, before the class even really started.

"First and foremost, to convey information to, umm, to someone that you cannot physically speak to. Suppose you are, umm, suppose you work on the docks. One day, a ship comes in, loaded with boxes that have, ah, very specific instructions. Delicate porcelain or, umm, something else that can break. The person who sent the boxes to you could not tell you those instructions because, ah, because he is in another city, on the, ah, other side of Mizahar. If he could not write, there would be no way of telling you, umm, that you needed to be careful. And if you cannot read, then you have no way, umm, no way to know what he wrote."

There was less boredom now. At the very least, they were all paying attention. His chest felt tight, and he could feel his fingertips tingling. But now, the sensations were strangely invigorating. He was committed now.

"Or, if you worked for the dock master, and he agreed to pay you one, umm, gold Miza per day of work. He might ask you to, ah, to sign a contract stating how much you would, umm, be paid for how much work. If you cannot read, you cannot, uhh, you can't know for sure that the contract does not agree to pay you only a silver Miza. Or, umm, require more work than agreed upon."

That last statement elicited some angry mutters, and just like that they were all listening attentively, at least for now.

"Now, the most important language for you to, umm, to learn to read and write is the one that you, umm, already speak. The Common tongue..."

[Seidaku]

Just over two bells later, Seidaku had realized several things.

First, once he got over the stomach wrenching horror of being the focus of so many people, it had been more than a little exhilarating to have his double handful of students listening to and learning from his words. He was not arrogant enough to believe that they had hung on his every word, but there had been no scorn, no laughs of derision when he stammered or stumbled. They had paid to be here, he realized, and mocking him would serve only to detract from that.

Second was the fact that, next time he had to prepare himself better for the lesson. Two bells was a long time to stand in front of a crowd and orate, even with some idea of what he had wanted to speak on. For the next session, he would try to practice and time himself. After all, practice would make perfect and his class would benefit from his effort. In the end, he had been able to talk and teach for the two bells, but in retrospect, his focus had wandered and his points had occasionally been poorly linked even when he had maintained focus.

Finally, supplies. He had brought ink and parchment for himself to scribe examples of his work, but several students had mentioned specifically that they wanted to try themselves, and with only one vial of ink and set of quills, that had slowed down the progress unacceptably. However, he knew that if he demanded that they bring their own ink, pens, and parchment, that he would lose many of them over the added expense as surely as if he demanded that they never return. On the other hand, purchasing all of those supplies himself would bleed him of Mizas and entirely defeat the purpose that he had for becoming gainfully employed in the first place.

The answer to his last question had been so simple that he had laughed when he managed to sit back long enough to puzzle it out. Chalk. He could buy chalk for all of his classes for the same price that it would take to buy them one vial of ink. Even better, the very nature of the city ensure that their practice work would be swiftly forgotten by all but them. It was perfect, if he did say so himself.

Today was a most productive day, he thought with a pleased grin, feeling the comfortable weight in his coin pouch from a day's work. Admittedly, all of those coins were copper and silver Mizas, but at this rate, it would be enough to support him.

Smiling broadly, he stepped out of the small courtyard and into the crowds of Alvadas. He needed to get home. He had work to do.

[Bedlam]

Thread Completed!

Player Name

Experience:
+3 Bargaining
+4 Teaching
+5 Rhetoric

Lores:
Teaching Necessities
Handling Rejection
Seeking Employment

Notes: You got yourself a job, mate. Sorry it took so long for me to get this up. School coming up and all.