"Madam, I think you're missing the point of my profession."

"You're paid t' carry things from one person to another. How is this any different?"

Rogafi Levilse reminded himself that this was marginally better than having to deal with another farmer accusing him of being a thief with nicer shoes. "I carry letters. Missives. Messages. Parcels, if they're under a certain weight and can fit into my bag. This-" He tapped the box the village woman had laid in front of him with his foot. "This is not a parcel. This is a box of turnips."

"I ain't asking you to take it to bloody Islington. Gracille Wren, she lives at the edge of the river, she's expecting me to bring these around by noon, but I ain't got the time," the woman said. "I'll give ya three fresh eggs, and if you ask nice, I'm sure Gracille'll let you pick out one of the runtier turnips."

"I'm sorry, but that's not the sort of work that I'm looking for," Rogafi said. He hated turnips, anyway.

The villager snorted and spat on Rogafi's boot. "Bloody outsiders," she grumbled, picking up her crate. "Don't appreciate good work."

Rogafi hadn't been expecting much when he'd set up his sign in the village square. It was a worn parchment he'd stuck to the wall, written with lettering large enough to be seen from a distance. "COURIER FOR HIRE - BOUND FOR MEDIOLANN, [s]BY WAY OF ALONSO, ISLINGTON, MIRANDA, EVENPARCH, ISLAY[/S]. UTMOST CONFIDENSHIALITY, UTMOST SECURITY. REASONABUL RATES." Alonso was a small, intermediary stop, a place to spend a few days recuperating and resupplying before setting off again. It wasn't a place to find new deliveries. Still, there wasn't anything better to do.

He looked around the town square again. He always liked to be aware of his surroundings, and the area was busy enough that there was always something new going on. The mayor was still arguing with the legionnaires, [i]that[/i] hadn't changed. The old mage-eyed woman in the cage was still making him think of his grandmother, so he didn't spend too long looking at her. There was a cloaked woman meandering through the crowd, and that caught Rogafi's attention for a few minutes. Most of the townsfolk were walking with direction, with certainty in their destination, but the way this woman was looking around - 

'[i]Searching for something?[/i]'

Rogafi looked away when the woman's gaze turned towards him. He kept watching the square. It looked like the Legion recruiter had hooked a fresh fish, a bearded man on a mule. Rogafi had already filed finding Legion work away under 'last resort'; the militia would have the budget and the need to have messages delivered, but the rumors that they were recruiting magicians gave Rogafi gooseflesh. He didn't have mage-eyes, but still...

"Courier for hire, courier for hire!" he called out, hoping to grab attention that his sign clearly wasn't. "Reasonable rates, totally safe! Bound for Mediolann as soon as the weather turns! Courier for hire!"