Janitor System

"Fellow cleaners!" Wesley shouted, thrusting his mop high into the air like a war banner. "Let’s clean them all!"

At first, silence.

Then, a wave of confused expressions rippled through the gathered cleaners. One of them—a broad-shouldered man with thick brows—tilted his head. "Why are you suddenly acting like our leader?"

Another cleaner muttered under her breath, "Is this guy serious?"

Wesley held his ground. He couldn’t back down now. "I’ll pay all of you. Five bronze coins each—again. If you just listen to me and follow orders. We finish faster that way. What do you say?"

Still no takers.

They stared at him, hesitant, suspicious. Some even looked amused. Their brooms and buckets hung idly in their hands, feet shuffling slightly, uncertain.

"...Why the rush?" a tall girl with a short broom finally asked.

Wesley exhaled deeply. "Because some crazy old man named Greg promised to train me if I cleaned five places: the Sand Pit, the Trial Dome, the Obsidian Yard, the Echo Hall, and this good old Knight Arena Four we’re standing in right now."

That made them pause.

Then—