“Can you check in the back for me?”

“Mam, there isn’t anything back there. I promise you, we do not have this in your kid’s size” Aaron spoke.

“Well, how do you know if you don’t check? What are they paying you for anyway?” The woman was insistent. Her shrill voice grated on the ears.

He had spent over an hour with this lady. Every moment painful as she tore through row after row of sneakers. Making her kid run up and down the isles–disrupting the other customers. Not to mention she didn’t even try to pick up the mess of tissue paper and boxes.

“Are you LISTENING?” She screamed.

Aaron sighed.

“Sure mam, give me a moment”

The burnt-out worker trudged to the back of the store. He could hear the lady telling her child that this was why you went to college. How only losers were forced to work retail. It was moments like this that made him want to quit on the spot, but he couldn’t. This was the only place hiring and he needed to pay off student loans. This world was so fucked, he was nearly 23, living with two roommates, and barely scraping by. Every day he awoke wishing it was over. Placing his hand onto the handle he stepped through…and fell.

Groaning, Aaron rubbed his head. How long was he out? Feeling his skull, a sharp twinge of pain shot through the spine. He was hurt, but thankfully wasn’t bleeding. Fearing the worst, he slowly wiggled his toes, legs, and arms. Everything seemed to be working, but there was so much pain. Sitting up, an intense sense of jet-lag and vertigo took hold. He steadied his breathing until the nausea passed. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to stand. His arm pulled on a nearby shelf to stabilize the weakened muscles. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he realized this wasn’t the backroom. No, the entire area was different.

A shattered window let in a few rays of light. Dusty cobwebs catching sun and scattering it across the ceiling. Row after row of moldy shelves packed the space. Jars, cans, and other expired foods dotting the racks. The air is stale and muggy. He instinctively used his shirt to try and filter the acrid scents. He tried to navigate through the crowded room, his chest bumping into one of the shelves. A bag of old rice fell and scattered along the floor. The thousands of grains echoing in the enclosed space making him pause.

“Dammit!” He cursed.

There had to be a lightswitch or something. Feeling his pockets, he pulled out his lucky lighter and illuminated the room. With care, he navigated to the walls trying to fight some other source of light. Yet, there was nothing. Seeing a door, he crept over and poked his head through.

“Hello?” He called out, but there was no response.

Stepping through, a feeling of shock overtook him. He was no longer at the shoe store, instead he was standing in some old, rundown tavern. A strange curiosity began to fill his brain. Was he dead? Is this some crazy dream? Walking through the anachronistic room, he drug a finger across the bartop. With the amount of dust collected, this establishment was clearly condemned. Thankfully, he saw a few half-melted candles and went to light them.

With the extra luminescence, he could see the room in its former glory. Old chairs were overturned and strung about the floor. A frayed carpet covered the bulk of the wooden floor. Various tables dotted the space, some half broken with age. The windows were boarded up blocking out most of the light. Even one of the overhead candelabras had broken from its mount and crashed in the corner. Yet for all the damage, he felt a strange calling. If only he had some money, it would be a cool little spot to refurbish.

Before long, he began to reset the chairs, placing them at the various tables. He lit a few more candles to help him see. Once satisfied, he took a seat and dissociated. Would he wake up soon? If his boss found him sleeping on the job, he was sure to be fired. Honestly, fuck retail. He hoped he would be fired, no position should cost him his dignity. It might be rough, but he’d figure something out. Maybe suck up his ego and move back in with his parents. Suddenly a banging noise shattered the trance.

He ducked under the table as the front door swung open. His hand instinctively blocking the influx of light. As the eyes adjusted, the former-employee was too stunned to speak. Standing before him were two men adorned in armor. Yet, they were not human. The first was a hunched figure with two massive tusks stretching from the lips. The second a humanoid-esque rabbit, the fluffy eyes piercing through the helmet and twitching to the various sounds. Aaron’s heart faltered when he realized they were both staring right at him.

“Out!” they commanded

Aaron didn’t want to make any trouble and carefully crawled out from his cover. The dust made him cough a bit as he raised his hands. His body was shivering as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Well at least if a rabbit killed him, he’d rejoin the waking world right?

“Care to explain your business? Not trying to steal anything are ya? This place has been boarded up for nearly a year now.” The Orc grunted out in a deep, bassy voice.

“I was just…” And then Aaron heard a strange sound enter his skull.

[[Fledgling Innkeeper - Level 1]]

It had been nearly three years since that fateful day and Aaron realized that it was beyond real. He couldn’t figure out how it happened nor why it happened but was quite thankful for the accident. Now he was one the greatest innkeepers in the city. With the knowledge from earth, he brought entirely new dishes and experiences to the beastman’s town. Every day was filled with new and exciting adventures.

“Good to see you, Volbek!” He placed down a shot for the troll and moved to the next table.

“Any new loot from the dungeons Thyme?” The half-elf was part way through pulling out some gem-crusted ax but Aaron was already on the next guest.

The Wand’s Reign Inn was a bustling place filled with eccentric guests. It became a bit of a local legend as the citizens never knew what shenanigans he would pull. The world saw him as a generous and supportive innkeeper. Always looking out for his guests and keeping to his morals. He never discriminated against his guests and always kept one room open for the downtrodden. Not to mention, he had recently earned the [[Automated Quests]] Skill. With it, the quest board was able to manage itself! Anyone could have a chat and he’d post them on the wall to see. Once complete, the rewards would automatically be teleported to the team.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

While none knew what his true class was, many guessed it was related to that job-board. Always on the forefront of new dungeons and knowledge, he gave proper advice to those before heading out. He was a hype man, giving out drinks, potions, and bright smiles before waving them off. A signature of his was pinning a little trinket to their vests.

“For good luck, when you are rich and famous don’t forget about me!” He’d joke.

As he directed his workers, one of his skills tingled. A new set of mead was scheduled to be delivered and Aaron opened the door before the man could knock. The two casually chatted as the barrel was hooked up to his taps. Taking a quick sample, he savored the sweet taste. Mead was always his favorite drink and those orcs made a mad brew. Pulling out his pouch of gold, he paid and tipped the delivery man before heading back to the main room.

As he worked the bartop, the doors swung open and a rowdy band of adventurers came through.

“AARON!!!” The half-elf screamed

“YOUR TIP LET US STRIKE GOLD ONCE MORE!” she was already drunk from the gleeful celebrations.

Aaron just smiled, he had watched them grow from a no-name team to nearly S-rank status. They were one of the firsts to take his quests and somehow completed each and every one. The [[Pyromancer]] illuminated the room with dancing flames. Casually creating a reenactment of their latest quest. Other guests quickly gather around to hear the wild tales.

“For your signature meal!” The haughty [[Golem Crafter]] tossed some gold onto the table.

“Come now Percy. Don’t forget where you came from.” The man always tried to annoy him.

A flick of the finger and a tiny puppet started collecting the coins to properly hand off. It was no secret, Percy was once a destitute [[Puppet Apprentice]]. Originally making shoddy toys to sell off to the children. As he got more efficient, he began trying to pickpocket and steal with his puppets. Aaron had caught him one night rifling through his trash. After a thorough beating, Percy ended up working off the stolen gold.

With the money counted, Aaron left to cook their meals. He really needed to hire a true [[Chef]]. His inn just kept growing every day and even with some hired help, he felt a bit overwhelmed. Sweat dripped from his brow as he labored over the stove, making sure to taste at every step. Once satisfied, he brought out their dinner. The group recounted their tales for a third time. One of the local bards making notes to inevitably turn it into a new jig. His entire establishment was filled with celebratory vibes. Another successful dungeon run meant a lot of money for the local merchants. The vultures are already trying to move in close to “encourage” visits. Aaron just laughed, gold kept the world moving.

Slowly, the celebrations began to slow and the various drunkards stumbled from his tavern. He opened the closet and let the enchanted brooms, cloth, and mops get to work. IT had cost nearly 8 months of profit, but was well worth the investment. Sure he had to keep recharging them with mana, but that was nothing compared to the time saved. Doing one final check with his overnight guests, he went to his room to change.

His gleeful face dropped as he grabbed his cloak. He cursed as he weighed his gold pouch and carefully left the inn. Keeping his face concealed, Aaron took the back alleys to the designated spot. It was a rundown shack on the edge of town. Various enchantments had been laid to keep wandering civilians away, Guards were bribed to turn a blind eye, and the local gangs rotated members for defense. Using his secret knock, a slit appeared. The deep yellow eyes staring back and asking for tonight's password.

“Gnomes suck”

The orc nodded and opened the door. Aaron stepped in and walked lightly. This was a place of sin and debauchery. Within his first year of arrival, Aaron found his way into the underground. The city was one of the closest to the capital and many seedy dealers used it as a meeting spot. Already he could feel the auras of some high level members pressing against each other. While there was strictly no physical fighting, they still challenged each other in other ways. Squeezing his way to the back, Aaron sat down at the gamblers table and tossed his coins out.

“Fucking Bronze Hammer made it once again!” Aaron was pissed.

Aaron tried everything this time. He talked them into a quest that was well above their skill level, he sent them to the worst apothecary in the outer towns, hell he even booked the rooms at another inn forcing them to camp outside. All that work and they still completed the quest. Nearly 200 gold was lost on this bet.

The others laughed at his frustrations. See Aaron didn’t just make his money from running the inn. In fact, the [[Innkeeper of Fatal Tales]] ended up making one of the greatest gambling rings in the land. Every few days they would come and place bets on the success and failure of teams. He had a [[Seedy Enchanter]] place hidden enchantments of his pins. With them, they could track the deaths and injuries of those he’d sent out.

It was such a lucrative endeavor. Various dukes, crime lords, or just well off merchants would participate in the shady games. There was such a rush when it came to life and death. Yet Aaron loved it, he always tried to get them killed. So many teams he had sent out knowing damn well they were underprepared. Oh sure he’d put on a sad face, light a candle, and give out a round in memory. But it was all a farce, something to keep the heat off his back. Not to mention, it was these meetings that allowed him to get tips for new quests and dungeons.

Yet this stupid team refused to die. So many times he sent them out and somehow they fought their way back. A stupid half-elf [[Pyromancer]], an annoying [[Golem Crafter]], a disgusting slugman [[Ruffian]], and a [[Gold-Legged Duelist]]. Of course that wasn’t their original classes, Aaron met them when they were low-rank nobodies. But through all these challenges he laid out, they were now near the time. He lost so much money betting against them AND made them rich in the process. It was just unfair.

As he watched his hard-earned gold taken away, he slunk into the luxurious cushions. The others knew to give him a bit of time before opening the next set of bets. His inn was integral for new talent and information. No need to piss off the booker when he was already down. Shaking off the loss, Aaron leaned forward.

“Alright, two new groups this week. Guardians of the Gale and Mercenary rejects. I’d put them at the D-tier. Standard spread. What rank quest will they take, casualties, deaths, and time?”

The broker nodded and started to formulate the odds. Various records were being played on the scrying orbs. What they did in the down, things they bought in preparation, and even how they acted with each other. Others were scrounging for any knowledge on their class and levels. While most information was public, others kept their secrets to gain an edge. It wasn’t uncommon for them to arrange for “accidents” or “lucky events” to sway the outcome. Everything was fair game short of hiring a direct hit or being overly generous.

With the odds arranged, the tally began. True to his style, Aaron bet on every negative outcome. Them taking higher tier quests, full party wipes, injuries, and going over the estimated times. The man absolutely hated adventures. Sure they made up the bulk of his guests, but they were so annoying to deal with. Constantly fighting, egos, and just showing off. He quickly learned that most weren’t even that skillful. Instead it was just raw luck on whether they had a good patron or found a crazy relic. Sure there were a few that he genuinely enjoyed but those like the Bronze Hammer only pissed him off. Sometimes he wondered if it was them or just that they somehow beat every bet. Every time, Aaron would bet against them and every time they succeeded by some bullshit plot armor. Some god or deity must have favored him. Well, either that or they hated Aaron.

Once finished, He signed the magical contracts. Their residential [[Blood-Bound Lawyer]] rapidly worked through the participants. Even without them, Aaron was sure they would pay. With the amount of power in this room, pissing them off would be far worse than becoming destitute. Grabbing his cloak once more, Aaron made the journey back to his inn. Already he was formulating ways to ensure this next outing would end in disaster.