A freelance mercenary stepped up to the desk of the Commander Delmotte. The Delmotte was looking over paperwork figuring out when his leg would be healed so he could start training again to work in the field. He didn't pay mind to the lone mercenary who didn't wait for the Commanders attention, simply getting to his point as was expected of him.
"The Lord Chancellor has resigned from office, there have been a few people voicing their desires for the position, maybe you shoul-"
"No."
Guy Delmotte casually cut off the mercenary as he kept reading over his documents and looking at the calendar he had on his desks with depictions of kittens delicately drawn on its border.
"I'm not applying."
He finally looked over to the mercenary as if the man was rather stupid, regardless of the fact he actually was, "Not everyone is going to apply you know?"
"But m'lord, you're a noble..."
"So is my grandmother, but you didn't hear about her application, did you? Plus if I apply, you're out of a job. You and every other sellsword in this city."
"Apply... pffft, nonsense."
Guy turned back over to his paperwork, in a few more moments he'd be done and free to go back to what he considered a perfectly mundane life. Nothing better than having no one expect anything of you.
