The man beckon Larok closer.
"Nothing special, friend. A client owes some money, and he'd rather pay that money to a bodyguard than the cheating thug 'e owes it to. A big bodyguard like you, if you're int'rested?"
Nabih sweeps past the early morning crowd and into the main hall, eyes following up the chains until he barely spots the glint of enormous cogs.
The clerk is only too happy to receive you, with the queue at this desk being almost non-existent.
"Excellent. I'll need your name, the name of the company and a third party who can fulfil the necessary legal obligations in the event of your demise, along with the starting fee of 500 silver."
He seems happy to continue speeling at you as he hands over the requisite paperwork.
"Oh, and a signature at the bottom along with your thumbprint. Once you've registered a company you won't be held to the same policies as the freelancers and will be able to take on civil projects, such as guard duty and war contracts, (although you're unlikely to find those here). Taxation will also switch from a 'per contract' format as it is for the freelancers, over to a 'per earnings per season', to reflect any income from holdings or spoils. Naturally there's no upper limit on the size of your company, and once you have the requisite paperwork, you'll have these rights anywhere in the States, (although I'm told that the goblins and the kingdom also like hiring registered companies). None of your men will have the tattoo, of course, however your reputation will still suffer for missed or uncompleted missions, and we still require a down-payment on contracts, although for registered companies that's a percentage of the contract fee, rather than an auction against the fellow man.
As Ghamina can see, that is exactly what is happening.
Entering the building, her eyes were more focused on the people surrounding her charge, and she noticed the unlicensed vendors and contractors outside, including the single only ogre seen so far in the city.
Inside, there are small groups of mercenaries talking amongst eachother and raising hands at intervals as the clerks at the booths call out. Upon further inspection, the crowd are indeed haggling for the contracts delivered, and most of the groups have at least one 'X' tattooed upon their palm. The only ones not in groups appear to be a hooded figure furtively attempting to almost hide behind one of the booths he's hiring from, and a larger man in a shining set of chainmail under a tabard, occupying all of the attention at another booth.