Guild Wages and Gilded Gates

The rewards kept coming.

With each successful job posting, Finn found not just coin, but efficiency—action-packed work that didn’t waste his time, real time practical experience, and being paid handsomely. He began to pace himself, accepting contracts every other day. A new routine. His movements smoother. His confidence steadier.

It didn’t take long before something curious happened:
The job board emptied.

Finn blinked at the barren wooden planks, where parchment used to flutter in the breeze.

Wyrnzoen leaned over from behind, arms crossed with a laugh.
“Godsdamn, lad—are you trying to cause a posting drought?”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Not my fault they pay well and don’t take long.”

“Clearly not,” Wyrnzoen chuckled. “At this rate, you’ll put every other merc in Limsa out of work.”

He dug into his belt pouch and handed over a folded slip—an airship ticket.
“To Ul’dah. Guild-sponsored.”

Finn frowned slightly. “A holiday?”

“You’ve more than earned it,” Wyrnzoen said, gesturing toward the empty board. “Besides, the merchants there might have more exotic problems. You’ll like it. Gold, heat, politics—keeps the steel sharp.”

Finn took the ticket, thumb brushing over the seal of the airship line. It felt strange to think about leaving Limsa, even temporarily.
“What about the errands?” he asked. “Tonberry side of things. They still need supplies.”

Wyrnzoen raised a brow. “You ever considered hiring retainers?”

“…Retainers?” Finn tilted his head.

“You’ve got the coin now. Pay someone to run your fetch quests. You’re not just scraping by anymore—you’re a mercenary with capital.”

Finn’s expression shifted—first wary, then amused. “That’s… actually a fantastic idea.”

“Figured you’d like it. Think of it this way: while you’re basking in desert sun, your errands are still getting done. Efficient, no?”

Finn tucked the ticket into his coat. “Alright. Let’s see what Ul’dah has to offer.”

Wyrnzoen grinned. “Enjoy the sand. Try not to get bribed.”