NOVGO.NET Chapter 57: We Grew Doors
Chapter 57: We Grew Doors
The following evening arrived with the rich, savory smell of braised pork ribs drifting down the fourth-floor stairwell.
"Nobody touches the serving spoons until everyone has a plate," Jolly announced.
She stood squarely at the head of the kitchen table, her wire-rimmed spectacles catching the warm overhead lamp light.
Jolly adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses, surveying the assembled gathering with the proud satisfaction of a seasoned young hostess.
Fourteen people squeezed into the small living room of Apartment 4B, sitting comfortably on mismatched wooden stools and crates.
Bram, Jax, Corin, and seven veteran dock porters sat together with their rough hands politely folded in their laps.
"We have fourteen people to feed and forty-two pork ribs in the skillets," Jolly reported.
"That means everybody gets three ribs each, so nobody takes extra," she stated firmly.
"The girl runs a tighter shift than the harbor master," Orson whispered to Bram with a grin.
"I hear you over the stove, Orson," Jolly scolded, tapping her wooden spoon on the counter.
Orson straightened his broad back instantly, nodding in agreement with the solemn discipline of an experienced veteran porter.
"Everyone has a seat, so dinner is officially open," Jolly declared, putting down her serving spoon.
A collective cheerful laugh rose from the crowded room as the hungry porters reached forward for their serving bowls.
Fragrant white steam rose from all three frying pans sizzling steadily across the blue gas burners on the stove.
Steam billowed from the heavy cast-iron skillets as seasoned garlic cloves bubbled inside rich brown gravy over the burners.
Ruby turned the thick pork ribs with metal cooking tongs, letting the fragrant garlic glaze caramelize over the flame.
Maya dished out generous portions of pickled spiced cabbage and freshly steamed white rice onto wide ceramic plates.
Fin carried the heavy loaded platters to the center of the table, making sure every worker received their rightful share.
"Try the braised ribs with the pickled garlic sauce," Fin said, passing a bowl to Orson.
"This meat is tender enough to cut with a butter knife," Orson remarked, taking a bite.
Orson chuckled warmly into his grey beard while reaching for a second bowl of freshly steamed white rice.
"We bought thirty kilos from the wholesale meat market this morning," Fin replied.
"A working crew needs real fuel after hauling twenty tons of vault ore," Ruby noted, sitting down.
"At the northern rail yard, the overseer fed thirty porters with watery bean soup," Jax recalled.
"Corporate foremen think unranked porters do not deserve real protein," Corin added, shaking his head.
"Here, every worker gets the same meal as the frontline strike team," Fin stated with conviction.
"That is how a real household operates," Bram agreed, helping himself to another scoop of rice.
Maya pulled out a clean sheet of ruled ledger paper, adjusting her thin glasses to deliver the official financial report.
"Halden House finished its first raid with sixty-four thousand credits, including sixteen thousand from ore," Maya announced.
"The key cost twenty-five thousand, and wages and supplies cost seven thousand. The raid netted thirty-two thousand," she continued.
"Independent rookie guilds usually run forty thousand credits in debt during their first month," Corin pointed out.
"They drown in debt because corporate syndicates charge eighty percent interest on gear rentals," Jax muttered.
"We own our gear, we own our transport frames, and we pay our debts upfront," Fin said.
’A debt-free roof is the only foundation that can withstand a storm.’
Bram raised his chipped water cup high, looking across the crowded table with a broad, completely genuine smile.
"Two years ago, corporate vanguards left porters in locked tunnels without a second thought," Bram said.
"Today, seven dockmen have guaranteed hazard pay and hot food under a safe roof," he added proudly.
"We spent twenty years carrying boxes for men who did not know our names," Orson spoke quietly.
"Now our names are stamped on a certified guild charter on Halden Street," another porter added.
The veteran dockmen nodded in solemn agreement, their eyes reflecting the golden lantern light illuminating the crowded living room.
Ruby looked around the warmly lit kitchen, her calloused fingers resting lightly against the smooth rim of her glass.
"My old squad spent three years waiting for corporate handlers to assign us safe gates," Ruby said softly.
"We waited for Association managers to tell us when to advance and when to retreat," she recalled.
"Those managers locked the blast doors from the outside when the pressure got too high," she continued.
"We do not wait for permission from corporate executives anymore," Ruby spoke, meeting Fin’s eyes.
"We choose our own shifts, and we build our own safe paths," she declared with pride.
Fin picked up his steaming ceramic bowl of rice, looking down at his younger sister sitting proudly beside him.
Jolly smiled brightly back at him, her cheeks flushed with the comfortable warmth of the crowded room and good food.
Fin raised his bowl gently toward the ceiling, his voice quiet but remarkably steady across the lively, bustling room.
"We grew doors," Fin said simply.
"We grew doors!" the room echoed in a synchronized chorus that filled the apartment.
Warm laughter and easy conversation flowed freely as the three large frying pans emptied down to the very last grain.
Porters swapped lively stories of narrow escapes, while Maya carefully logged future dungeon mobilization permits into her leather folder.
"We need forty transport frames reinforced before next Tuesday," Maya noted, consulting her checklist.
"Our crew will weld the support brackets at the workshop tomorrow afternoon," Orson assured her.
"Jolly set aside a fifteen-hundred-credit reserve for replacement bolts and canvas strapping," Fin said.
"That money is only for bolts and straps, so nobody spends it on fancy sweets," Jolly confirmed, tapping her pencil on the ledger.
"Our crew will inspect every bracket during tomorrow’s shift," Bram added, nodding in agreement.
After dinner, Fin and Ruby stepped out onto the metal fire escape landing to take in the cool evening air.
Cool raindrops pattered against the corrugated iron overhang of the fire escape, splashing against the dark brick exterior walls.
A gentle evening rain began to tap softly against the dark glass window panes directly behind them.
The amber street lights of District Four flickered through the damp mist, illuminating the quiet working-class neighborhood below.
"Look at the street down there, Fin," Ruby whispered, leaning against the railing.
"Three weeks ago, we were running through alleys to avoid corporate auditors," she said.
"Now we have fourteen people sharing our table," Fin replied softly.
"The Association announced the Field Command Trials on the evening news ticker," Ruby mentioned.
"Every major syndicate in Jonxy is preparing their flagship teams for the tournament," she added.
"They think independent guilds exist only to be crushed on live television," Fin said with a smirk.
"Let them bring their polished armor and fancy sponsor banners," Ruby replied, smiling in the dark.
"We will bring our honest tools, our steady footing, and our three seasoned pans," Fin declared.
"And we bring fourteen people who trust each other with their lives," Ruby added softly.
Fin walked back inside to the warm kitchen where Jolly sat quietly sipping a fresh cup of herbal tea.
"You gave a good speech tonight, big brother," Jolly said, looking up from her book.
"It was not a speech, just honest accounting," Fin answered, drying a skillet.
"Then tomorrow morning we balance the columns for the tournament entry fee," she replied with a smile.
’We built our roof with our own hands, and we will defend it against any challenger.’
Ruby handed the heavy iron skillet to Jolly, who scrubbed the seasoned cooking surface with coarse sea salt.
Fin checked the front door deadbolt, feeling the quiet security of a fully bonded household.
Inside Apartment 4B, the enduring warmth of wholesome food, trusted friendship, and shared labor kept the city darkness at bay.
[ Faction entity: Halden House (charter #D-4092) ]
[ Operational status: independent & solvent ]
[ Net raid surplus: 32,000 credits after costs ]
[ Operating balance: 59,000 credits, medical escrow separate ]
[ Squad morale: unbreakable household unity ]
The rhythmic clatter of washing dishes echoed from the kitchen sink as Ruby and Jolly cleaned the third cast-iron pan.