13

You barely make it ten paces after the cart when you trip and nearly fall over. There’s a tiny patch in the road under you where the cobbles have been removed.

“Don’t stick ye foot in there, Friend. It’s not strong enough.” a man calls to you approaching. You look again at the spot beneath you and now notice a small pile of fresh cobbles and a bucket of cold setting paste. It’s pure bad luck that you stepped right here at the exact moment he was briefly not conspicuously working on his job where you would have spotted him. Embarrassed, you step aside.

But you have an idea: perhaps you could be a cobbler. There’s bound to be work abundant in a city like this; the road would erode to dust without near constant maintenance. It might not earn you much but it’d be a start.

To ask the cobbler who employs him and how to join yourself, turn to 192. If you don’t fancy yourself quite stooping so low (literally), and prefer to continue toward the sawmill, turn to 27.