"So the 5th will take the morning and ..." Ethan trails off as Ermina pushes the curtain aside and steps into the room. One full step forward, then, standing straight-backed, she clasped her hands in front of her, bringing the conversation to a halt merely by posture and intent. A useful skill, Ethan admitted with real admiration.

  "My Lord, do you have a minute?”

  When she asks it like that? He glanced sideways with an eye raised at James, already rolling up the scroll they’d been poring over and sliding the charcoal stick into a leather pouch.

  "By all means, My Lady. What can I aid you with?"

  She took a step forward and to the side, an arm extending gracefully in invitation, to the man who stepped into the room behind her. A cook from the look of his slightly stained apron and the mostly white cloth cap he was wringing out nervously, "May I present, Cook Portus." The bold of the term was distinct and it jerked Ethan’s attention straight up and to full attention. "Formerly Craftsman Portus of the Cook House."

  Ethan wasn't slow on the uptake. "Congratulations Master Cook! Congratulations indeed."

  "My thanks, Milord. I’s didna expect this. But well,-" His hands ceased their attempted murder of his cap to wave briefly through the air. Ethan smiled, watching him search unsuccessfully for words. The pure joy of a rank-up was something he never tired of seeing.

  The man started to hesitantly babble out some class details, but Ethan stopped him with a calmly raised hand. "Allow me.” He accessed the core with a bit of mental effort and, with a few taps, brought up the Cook House, then the class slot inside of it.

  Ermina took a few more steps, standing now at Ethan's shoulder as he clapped the man on the shoulder, giving the class a solid look, even drooling a bit internally over that spice skill. She nudged him slightly, then gestured to the side where her serving girl stood, a serving platter with four chalices of wine. Not full of wine, unfortunately, and it was well-watered wine at that. Even so, it was a treat, and one that only the special nature of the occasion excused.

  “To you, Master Cook. May you and your line endure!” Ethan raised his glass, then took a large obvious gulp that consumed very little liquid.

  The cook didn’t notice, smiling so wide his face was fit to split even as he nervously drained the cup, whispering profuse thanks at every other word, barely pausing even with the chalice at his lips.

  Ermina gently touched the mans elbow as he finished, and gently, smiling all the while, directed him from the room with a few further words of praise.

  Then she turned back, grinning at Ethan with the look of a cat that just ate a canary.

  A look he well knew, he’d sported himself two days before when he’d pushed Conner and Milo into the room for her elocution lessons. It was a, hmm, sublime memory. But he’d never doubted she’d get even.

  "I had forgotten," Ethan admitted as the silence, and her smile began to linger overlong.

  Her nod was sharp. “That position was a weapon. You could have grabbed the handle, but by neglect you get the blade.” She reminded him, the smile slipping from her face as she waved James back into his seat before he half stood, clearly uninterested in getting caught in the middle of whatever this was.

  “Haaa. You had it covered, did you not?”

  “That’s not the point! You should have been there, making it an occasion! Offering him his dream in gift wrapping! Not just taking his thanks after the fact! You only get one! One Common class slot from a basic tiered building.”

  Ethan scratched his chin and considered the contents of his cup with a bit more longing than he should. Then regretfully placed it on the table, out of reach and found his seat again. It would taste better with dinner. “There are still the apprentice positions.” He offered weakly, but she wasn’t having any of it.

  “A basic is fit only for basics. Not those who aspire to be better. And by custom those are his, not yours, to dispense.”

  Ethan tapped the table briefly and sorted through the screens before nodding and flicking his fingers forward.

  It… well, it wasn’t exactly impressive. Though he wouldn’t mind having more of that clean skill around. Handy it was.

  With a slash of his hand, the screen dissipated. “Alright, Ermina. I did let that slip. But you didn’t just bring this up to gloat. You want something.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She nodded. “The Tannery is in the same situation. You need to pick a shop boss and make a big production out of giving him the slot.”

  “But I can’t actually do that. It goes to whoever works in the shop.”

  “Whoever works in and leads the shop.” She corrected. “And you can certainly control who does that.”

  He grimaced. It felt… dirty. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t right. So long as Portus lived, there would not be another Cook promoted through the shop. There was a minuscule chance that one of his apprentices could rank up without stone or slot. But it was more legend than reality. In the meantime, if the Cook or Tanner wasn’t happy and left, he’d leave with the class.

  And the best way to prevent that was to make them feel indebted. Even if someone would get the class, will he or nill he, which someone, as she pointed out, was something he could put a hand on the scales over.

  “All right, Ermina. All right. I assume you have a ceremony you prefer?”

  ___

  “-bestow upon thee, the living of this Tannery. May it grow beneath your hands, and you beneath its.”

  The crowd of surrounding Craftsman, Labori and assorted construction classes gave a resounding cheer and promptly lifted the lucky man onto their shoulders for a quick lap around the still unfinished Industry Square.

  Ethan stood on the impromptu stage with a smile, waving absently to the crowd for a moment, before he turned and stepped away, patting Portus on the shoulder, his own group of Army Cooks, Apprentices and Goodwives crowding around him and the large pot of soup he’d been spamming his spice skill into for most of a day.

  Ethan stepped away, then stopped. Turning back with a wink, he scooped a bowl into the pot then walked away, to a wave of laughter and cheers behind him.

  He took a sip and grinned widely. She got him, and good to. But it wasn’t all bad.