ENTRY 003: WHO'S THE BOSS NOW?
Dear Diary,
When you run a pawn shop, you get used to hearing names you don’t recognize, usually shouted by people trying to make themselves sound more important than they are ("This old helmet used to belong to Wondarius, Lord of Embers!"). But today, a name walked into my shop that even I’d heard of: Korgath the Undefeated.
Well, formerly Undefeated, I guess.
He shuffled in just past midday. For someone who’d once been the scourge of the Ebon Peaks, he looked remarkably… tired. His massive frame sagged under a suit of armor that had clearly seen better days. Now, the jagged plates of his once-legendary battle armor were rusted and patched with crude repairs. His helmet, dented beyond recognition, dangled uselessly from his belt.
It wasn’t until he spoke that I knew for sure who he was. His voice had that unmistakable gravelly echo, like two stones grinding together.
“Sorry,” he grunted, “I need… assistance.”
I sighed, already bracing myself. Famous or not, dungeon bosses are a predictable lot: dethroned by overeager adventurers, left to rot by their newly-unionized minions, desperate to liquidate their leftover loot, and always, always overly dramatic about it.
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“Let me guess,” I said, leaning on the counter. “You’re here to pawn your greatsword of infinite doom? Or maybe a glowing amulet that gives +2 to single-leg jumping? Oh, wait—don’t tell me. A bag of gold that curses anyone who touches it? People love those.”
He didn’t respond right away, just reached into the tattered satchel hanging off his shoulder. I prepared myself for some overhyped trinket, maybe a dented shield or an enchanted crown. What he pulled out instead?
A sign.
Not a magical sign, not a treasure map, not even a fancy bit of scrollwork. Just a plain, wooden sign with chipped paint that read: “We’re Hiring.”
It took me a moment to process. Then another moment to realize it was my sign, the one that had been hanging outside the shop for the past few weeks. He slapped it on the counter like it was an ancient artifact.
“Are you still hiring?” he asked sheepishly.
I stared at the sign, then back at him. Sure, I’d been considering hiring someone, but I’d imagined an eager apprentice, not a washed-up dungeon boss with zero social skills.
But then again…
The man looked like he could bench press the counter—and possibly the shop itself—without breaking a sweat. Nobody’s going to lowball me when the guy behind the counter once made entire kingdoms wet themselves for sport. And if nothing else, it would be nice to have someone else deal with the enchanted broom for a change.
“Fine,” I said finally, waving at the sign, “You can start by putting that back where you found it.”
I always had a bleeding heart, that I did.
Let’s hope Korgath’s better at stacking shelves than he was at keeping adventurers out of his lair. Otherwise, it’s going to be a very short trial period.
Yours in profit,
Garren