The Sedona City News Agency, having opened just a day ago, was still in its preparatory phase. Newspapers were being printed at a feverish pace, but the operation lacked critical components: capable managers and reliable news sources.
Today was recruitment day, and the generous salaries had drawn a crowd. A long line snaked outside the agency, at least fifty people strong, their chatter a low hum of excitement and speculation. The promise of steady work and high pay was a siren call, pulling in the literate and the hopeful alike.
"Let's get closer and see," Gaba said, her voice steady as she adjusted Emma on her back, her bear ears twitching with curiosity.
"Sister, what's a news agency? Why are so many people lined up?" Emma whispered, her ears flicking as her brown eyes scanned the throng.
"I'll find out," Gaba began, but her words trailed off as her gaze landed on a notice posted at the agency's entrance. She froze, her breath catching as she read the words, her heart pounding with a sudden, electric thrill.
"Sister? What's wrong?" Emma asked, her voice soft with concern as she followed Gaba's gaze. Her eyes widened, and she murmured, "No way…"
**Notice:**
*Sedona City News Agency is hiring. Recruiting two reporters. Requirements: Literate, able to write fluently. Age 15–50. Monthly salary: 200 copper coins. Recruiting one editor-in-chief, literate, able to evaluate article quality. Age 15–60. Monthly salary: 1 silver coin.*
The words hit like a thunderbolt. Gaba and Emma stared, stunned. A silver coin a month—more than Gaba earned in half a year at the weaving workshop.
"Emma, want to try?" Gaba whispered, turning to meet her sister's gaze, her brown eyes glinting with encouragement. "You're literate, and you've read so many books. They might choose you."
"Okay, I'll try," Emma said, biting her lip, her bear ears twitching with determination. The thought of earning a silver coin a month was intoxicating, a dream that sent a flush of warmth through her. It could change everything—freedom, security, a future where she wasn't a burden.
"Then let's join the line," Gaba said, her voice firm as she carried Emma to the end of the queue, the chatter of the crowd washing over them like a tide.
"I heard dozens have already gone in and failed," One man said, his voice tinged with frustration.
"Of course," Another replied, scoffing. "Most of them barely know a few words and think they can bluff their way in. They don't realize who's inside."
"Who's inside?" A curious voice asked.
"The city lord himself!" Came the reply, awed and reverent. "You think Lord Lucas would pick just anyone?"
"What? The city lord?" Another gasped. "Then why are you here?"
"I'm not aiming to be a reporter or editor," The man laughed. "But a cleaning job? That I can do."
"Sneaky! I'm taking that job!" Another teased, sparking a playful argument.
Gaba and Emma exchanged glances, their eyes wide with nerves. The city lord's presence was daunting, a weight that settled in their chests, making their hearts race. Emma's body tensing with a mix of awe and fear at the thought of facing Lucas.
Time dragged on, the line inching forward as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the street. Inside the news agency, the air was thick with the scent of ink and the faint creak of wooden chairs.
*Clip-clop.*
Lucas watched another candidate leave, rubbing his brow in frustration. Not a single suitable reporter, let alone an editor-in-chief. It wasn't surprising—literacy was rare, and the skills he needed were rarer still—but the absence of even one trainable candidate was disheartening. The thought of grooming a child from scratch or writing news drafts himself for years was exhausting. His shoulders tensed, a quiet heat of frustration simmering within him.
"Master, maybe we should call it a day," Mina suggested softly, her cat ears twitching as she noted the strain in Lucas's posture. "You've seen hundreds since lunch." Her voice was gentle, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.
"How many are left outside?" Lucas asked, his voice calm but edged with weariness. If today yielded nothing, he'd delay the agency's opening until he found the right people.
"Thirteen," Mina replied quickly, her gaze flickering with a spark of hope. She'd spotted a familiar figure in the line—a girl who might impress Lucas, despite her disability… Mina sighed inwardly, her heart tightening with uncertainty.
"Let them in," Lucas said, waving a hand dismissively. "We'll finish and head back."
"Yes, Master," Mina said, nodding to the soldier by the door.
*Creak.*
The soldier opened the door, gesturing to the next candidates. "Go in," He said gruffly.
"Yes," Gaba replied, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest. She and Emma had waited an hour, the anticipation building like a storm. Her bear ears twitched, her body warm with Emma's weight against her back.
"Don't be nervous," Gaba whispered, her voice soothing as she adjusted her grip on Emma. "Just be yourself. Even if it doesn't work out, it's okay."
"Okay," Emma said. This was her first real challenge, facing the city lord himself. Her body tingled with nerves.
"Let's go," Gaba said, entering the room. The air was heavy with the scent of parchment and wax, the atmosphere charged with authority. Two figures awaited—Lucas, his presence commanding, and Mina, her feline grace a quiet counterpoint.
"Oh? Beastkin?" Lucas said, his brow arching, a spark of interest in his dark eyes. The sisters were the first beastkin to apply.
"Please, sit," Mina said, her voice cool but polite, her cat ears flicking as she gestured to a chair.
"Yes," Gaba said, her hands sweating as she gently set Emma in the chair, standing protectively behind her. She stole a glance at Lucas, his piercing gaze making her heart skip, and quickly lowered her eyes, her cheeks flushing with nerves.
Emma was a bundle of tension, her small hands gripping her books, her palms slick with sweat.
Lucas studied them, his lips curling into a faint smile, his voice smooth and inviting. "Introduce yourselves."
Emma froze, her eyes darting to Lucas before dropping, her voice barely a whisper. "I-I'm Emma, a bear beastkin."
"Lord Lucas, I'm Gaba, Emma's sister," Gaba said, lifting her head briefly, her words rushing out before she lowered her gaze again. "I work at the weaving workshop."
"No need to be nervous," Lucas said, leaning on one hand, his tone light but commanding, a warmth that eased the room's tension. His eyes flicked to Emma's books, curiosity sparking within him. "Who's applying, and for what position?"
"I-I'm applying for editor-in-chief," Emma said, her voice soft and quivering, her fox ears trembling as she clutched her books tighter.
"Editor-in-chief?" Lucas's brow rose, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Interesting. How old are you?"
"Fifteen," Emma whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Can you read those books?" Lucas asked, his tone calm but probing, his eyes sharp.
"These books… I just borrowed them, so I haven't read them yet." Emma said.
"Hm," Lucas said, nodding with approval, his lips twitching upward. He pulled a sheet of paper from his desk, covered in dense text, and handed it to her. "Read this aloud."
"Yes," Emma said, taking the paper with trembling hands, her ears perking as she began to read, her voice soft but clear…
"You're disabled, aren't you?" Lucas asked, his tone neutral.
"Yes," Emma said, her head dipping lower, her voice barely a whisper. Her body tensed, a flush of shame and fear coursing through her, her ears drooping as she braced for rejection.
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