The interviewer, a man named Han, was seated on the porch of a tavern in a town unworthy of Han learning its name. The tin saloon doors were swinging to the breeze while on the last nails in the hinges. The incessant creaking gave Han a rhythm to tap his toes to, so that was a reprieve to the boredom of waiting. A group of five men gave an obligatory greeting as they walked past Han into the tavern, ready to drink after a day of hard labor. None of them were who he was waiting for.
It was another half hour before that one arrived. He was exactly as Han's master had described. Shorter and more lithe than any warrior Han had encountered, with tan skin and gray hair. His dark eyes looked youthful and kind to compliment the nonstop grin on his face. Han noticed a humble silver ring piercing the stranger's lower lip for the brief moment it glinted in the light of sunset. A short sword in its scabbard was tied to his belt at the pommel with a thin leather cord, and it bounced against his hip with each step. He came to a sudden stop right in front of Han and stared at him.
"Are you looking for something?" Han asked. It was the last test for the stranger.
"We're looking for you, Han Gerald," the man replied without opening his mouth. Before Han could wonder about how he pulled off that trick, he noticed movement underneath the man's shirt. A shape bulged out the cloth near his chest, traveled up the shirt, and finally emerged out past the collar. An ermine with brown fur had crawled out of the man's shirt to perch on his shoulder. It nodded to Han before opening its mouth again to continue talking.
"I'm sorry if we have kept you waiting, sir," the weasel-like creature said. It's voice was calm and collected, the tone of a respectful, older man. The ermine bowed its head again. "The young master wished to put on his best first impression, but was taking too much time to find the right accessory." The ermine reached one of its paws up to tug at the lip ring, but the man swatted it away.
"Cut it out, Ashen," he said. His voice was as young as he looked.
"How old are you?" Han asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
"Young master Cort turned 17 four months ago," Ashen the ermine answered. The young man glared at the creature with the frustrated scowl of a child, and Asher slithered back into the shirt. The moving shape went outside Han's sight around Cort's back.
"Forgive my furry friend," Cort said with a steep bow. "He's worked with my family for generations, and insisted on coming along with me."
Han shrugged and gestured for Cort to follow him. A warrior? Han thought as he lead the way to the door of the tavern. He's too young to have ever seen a battle. And a talking animal? Where did Iphos find this guy?
"That letter you sent said this was a job opportunity," Cort stated as they walked through the door. The tavern's main floor was empty except for the five men that had come in and the bartender serving them. They were already talking loudly, but that would not interfere as Han was leading Cort upstairs. "I've never done freelance stuff before, but I hope I can be what you're looking for."
"Me too," Han said. "How do you work with others? I assume you know that you'll be working with a small group. You'll need to be able to get along with everyone."
"I play nice with the other kids if they play nice with me."
Oh that'll be interesting, Han thought as he opened the door to the bedroom he was hosting these interviews out of. It was a humble room, and he had pushed the bed into the furthest corner and placed a pair of chairs facing each other in the center of the room.
"Have a seat," Han said, taking his own and watching closely as Cort took his. Han could not deny he was waiting for the ferret to pop out again. He seemed much more mature and better to deal with than the brat calling himself a warrior. No extra movements within Cort's shirt though.
"Cort, right?" Han said. A nod let him know to go on. "I'll be frank with you. I work with a regional lord and he wishes to fund an expedition into a magic labyrinth. Are you familiar at all with those?"
"Yes sir," Cort responded.
"Do you have any experience in labyrinths?"
Cort nodded. "I'm from Vim. Growing up, all you do is kill the fodder that slips out the vents."
"Very well." Not a complete rookie, Han thought. Looking better. "My lord's interest is archaeological discovery, so understandably anything you find in the dungeon must be brought before him. He has little need for weapons and coins, and will reward handsomely for the most valuable relics."
"Sounds pretty lucrative." Cort's ever present grin was becoming a toothy smile, looking forward to the pay and proud of his use of the word lucrative.
"My lord will compensate your family should you die. 10 gold coins."
"Give it to Ashen. He's the only family I have at this point."
This kid's something else, Han thought. But Iphos recommended him.
"Where's the labyrinth at?" Cort asked. "Is there a base camp already set up? Where do I meet the rest of the group? Who's in charge and what are they like?"
"Slow down, kid." Han got up from his chair to grab a roll of parchment off the bed. He brought it over to Cort, letting it unfurl before handing the boy a pen. "Contract. You keep hold of that until you get to the labyrinth, at which point you'll have signed it and given it to Captain Ulgrim. He's the chief officer in charge of the expedition. He's former Imperial military, so expect to wait a bit to get some respect."
Han watched as Cort tucked the contract into his shirt. A familiar shape slithered under his shirt, and that shape and the contract once more vanished behind Cort's back.
"Welcome aboard Cort," Han extended his hand out to the young man. Before Cort could grab it though, there were loud shouts coming from outside the room. They were faint, barely audible to Han. Meanwhile, Cort was on his feet and at the door.
"Stay here, boss," Cort said. His sword had been drawn and Han had hardly noticed, and he slipped out the room without another word.