The Guild Hall's first customer arrived before the paint dried.
Allen was reviewing Tilly's tax ledger—impressive, she'd already collected three silver from a traveling tinker—when the door slammed open. A man filled the frame, shoulders blocking the morning light. He wore scale mail that had seen better decades and carried a sword strapped across his back like a logging tool.
"So this is the famous Thornwick," the man boomed. "Heard you're hiring dungeon runners."
Allen closed the ledger. He'd been expecting this, but not this fast. The Territory Recruitment skill must be working overtime. "Interview process starts in the common room. Ten minutes. Grab a seat."
The man blinked. "Interview? I'm Bron. Level seven Fighter. I kill things. What else you need to know?"
"Whether you're a team player or a liability," Allen said, already pulling up the man's stats on his interface. The system overlay showed Bron [Level 7] [Fighter] [STR: 16] [DEX: 10] [INT: 6] [Teamwork Rating: D-]. "Have a seat. Coffee's in the pot. Help yourself."
Bron lumbered in, confused by the hospitality.
Allen spent the morning refining his screening protocol. He needed freelance contractors, not employees. Independent adventurers who'd dive the Fallen Stone Mine and the upper Shadowwood levels, but follow safety standards and report loot accurately. The 60/40 revenue split—sixty percent to the diver, forty percent town tax—was generous enough to attract talent, but only the right talent.
By noon, four more candidates had wandered in. A half-elf rogue named Sylas who kept touching his daggers. A cleric, Marta, whose eyes glowed with healing magic and judgment. A berserker type, Gorak, who'd already dented the doorframe. And surprisingly, a dwarven runesmith, Brundi, who looked at Gray's smithy with professional envy.
Allen conducted the interviews in the Guild Hall common room, using a system-assisted evaluation matrix. He projected nothing, kept the interface invisible. Just sharp questions and sharp observation.
"Sylas," Allen said, leaning back in his chair. "You're Level six. Stealth specialist. Tell me about your last party wipe."
The rogue shifted. "Wasn't my fault. Tank charged in early. I tried to save it."
"Skill says you abandoned them at thirty percent health," Allen read from the hidden interface. "Lone wolf mentality. High ego, low teamwork. Thanks for your time, but we're passing."
"Passing? I'm the best rogue in three territories!"
"We're building a pipeline, not a cult of personality," Allen said, standing. "Next."
Gorak the berserker lasted three minutes. He couldn't articulate what "aggro management" meant and got angry when Allen asked about MP conservation during rage states. The door closed hard behind him.
Marta the cleric was better. Level five, solid healing stats, but her eyes kept drifting to the icon of the Dawn Goddess above the fireplace. Religious fervor could be useful, but Allen needed flexibility, not crusaders. "Your healing commitment is impressive," Allen said, "but we run mixed-species parties. Orcs, dwarves, humans. No discrimination in the medical tent. Can you handle that?"
Marta hesitated. "The Dawn Goddess teaches that some races carry corruption…"
"Thanks for coming in," Allen said. "We'll keep your application on file."
Brundi the runesmith was a different conversation. Level eight, INT 14, WIS 12. He sat heavily, eyeing the coffee pot with suspicion. "Your dwarf, Gray. She's using Ironhold techniques mixed with human shortcuts. Clever, but inefficient."
"You're a critic," Allen said, smiling. "Good. We need quality control. Tell me about your last crafting project."
"Fixed a caravan's wagon wheels using fire runes," Brundi said. "Saved them three days travel time. Took me six hours. They paid in copper. Bad deal for me."
"Bad negotiation," Allen agreed. "Here's our model. You run dungeon dives with our teams. You get sixty percent of your personal loot, forty percent town tax. But—and this is critical—you use our Standard Operating Procedures. No solo dives below Floor Five. Mandatory potion rations. Daily check-ins. In exchange, Gray teaches you her hybrid techniques, and you get access to our ore supply chain."
Brundi stroked his beard. "Sixty percent is low. Standard is seventy."
"Standard guilds don't provide infrastructure," Allen countered. "We've got the only working smithy in twenty miles, a healing station with an actual Adept, and logistics support that maps every ore node. You pay forty percent for the privilege of not dying alone in the dark. Take it or leave it."
The dwarf grinned. "I'll take it. Contract?"
"System-binding," Allen said, pulling up the interface. The holographic contract shimmered between them—terms clear, penalties for breach explicit, no feudal oaths, just business. Brundi touched the glowing line. The chime confirmed the deal.
[Contractor Hired: Brundi [Level 8] [Runesmith] [Specialization: Equipment Maintenance/Arcane Crafting]]
The next two hires came in the afternoon. First was a wiry human woman named Cass, Level six Ranger with a longbow that looked taller than she was. She'd heard about Lina's precision shooting and wanted to learn. "I'm not a solo operator," Cass said immediately, unprompted. "I work best with a spotter and a clear line of retreat."
Perfect. Allen checked her stats. Teamwork Rating: B+, Survival Skills: High, Ego: Low.
"You'll start with surface security," Allen said. "Perimeter sweeps, Hunter's Blind maintenance. Prove you can follow the chain of command, and you'll get dungeon assignments. Standard sixty-forty split. We provide arrows, you provide kills."
"Deal," Cass said, shaking his hand with a grip like iron.
The last hire was unexpected. A tall, thin man named Elias, Level five Bard, specializing in buff magic and—unexpectedly—accounting. "I kept books for a mercenary company before they dissolved," Elias explained. "I can fight, but I'd rather manage the loot distribution. Make sure nobody's skimming."
Allen's interest sharpened. "You're telling me you want to be a combat auditor?"
"I'm telling you that sixty-forty split gets messy when the barbarian claims he 'found' that gold ring on the floor," Elias said, deadpan. "I can run the numbers in the dungeon, real-time. Keep morale high by keeping distribution fair."
[Contractor Hired: Elias [Level 5] [Bard] [Specialization: Party Support/Loot Logistics]]
By evening, Allen had his three contractors. Brundi the runesmith for crafting and heavy support, Cass the ranger for recon and ranged DPS, Elias the bard for buffs and financial oversight. A balanced team, levels five through eight, no superstars, no divas.
He gathered them in the Guild Hall common room, the fire crackling, mugs of ale circulating. Lina sat in the corner, observing—the senior ranger establishing dominance without saying a word. Gray passed through, sizing up Brundi with a professional stare that said we'll see about your Ironhold methods.
"Welcome to Thornwick Incorporated," Allen said, standing before them. "You're not employees. You're strategic partners. You keep sixty percent of what you earn because you're taking the risks. But we run this like a professional outfit, not a tavern brawl."
He projected the Standard Operating Procedures on the wall—simple, clear, no fluff. Mandatory gear checks. No diving alone. Loot declared immediately upon extraction. Disputes resolved by Tilly's treasury department, not blade work.
"Dungeon farming rights are yours," Allen continued. "Fallen Stone Mine Floors One through Eight are cleared and mapped. Shadowwood upper levels are open territory. You'll run sprints—two-hour dives, not marathon death marches. We prioritize sustainability over heroics."
Cass raised a hand. "What if we find something above our pay grade? Level ten plus?"
"Extract immediately," Allen said. "Report to Lina or me. We'll organize a raid party. No cowboy tactics. We're building a long-term operation here, not burning through contractors."
Brundi nodded slowly. "Smart. Most lords throw you at the problem until you break, then hire the next fool."
"We're not most lords," Allen said. "We're a growth-stage settlement with aggressive expansion targets. You're our Series A talent. Prove the model works, and we'll talk equity stakes down the line."
They drank to that. The fire burned low, and outside, the new Road Network waited, leading to dungeons full of loot and danger.
Allen checked his interface one last time before bed. Three contractors signed. Revenue model active. Infrastructure deployed. The town was no longer just surviving. It was hiring.
[Settlement Status: Thornwick Hamlet - Operational] [Next Sprint: First Dungeon Farming Run - 48 Hours]
"Alright team," Allen said to the empty room, practicing the line. "Let's crush these OKRs."
The words felt right. Corporate, clinical, and exactly what this world needed.