In the early morning, Warhammer and Helm Tavern had hardly any business.
Nor was it time for Connie and Maria to start work, yet the two half-elves had still risen early. They helped the dwarf proprietress, who had just returned from outside and was still somewhat distracted, clean the entire tavern until it shone. Then, beneath the proprietress's stunned gaze, they told her they were preparing to leave.
"Why leave when things were going so well? Is the pay too low? I can give you a raise."
The dwarf proprietress, whose eyes were still a little red, asked in a muffled voice. Her desire to keep them was plain as day.
She truly liked these two half-elven girls. They were efficient, hardworking, patient, and pretty to boot.
Ever since Connie and Maria had arrived three days ago, business at Warhammer and Helm Tavern, which had rapidly grown desolate after losing its dancers, had noticeably picked up. It had eased much of the proprietress's anxiety.
The only pity was that these two half-elves were respectable girls and could not, like the former dancers, take on certain fast-money side jobs.
It had to be said that Zelandia's regulation of slave redemption and the seafood industry had indeed dealt a heavy blow to Minas Tirith's once-chaotic seafood market. Some underground technician-training organizations that had made this their main business were struck so hard that they nearly withered away overnight.
Zelandia had always been a city-state with an extremely lopsided gender ratio. Thus, after the markets closed each day, the seafood night-market stalls and unlicensed technicians would be flooded with customers.
In order to squeeze out even more labor, some unscrupulous businesses showed no consideration whatsoever for the hardships endured by the cooks and technicians. Whether it was scheduling or maximizing resource utilization, they