Gods: The Swarm

The drinkers were curious about the origins of this Ailon man, so they would inevitably take a few more glances, but no one intended to do anything extra, just out of curiosity.

The two sturdy orcs who were still sitting at the corner table and had not stood up were probably the Ailon man's bodyguards.

Even though the dwarf couldn't even reach the bar, his embarrassing appearance of trying to climb up the high table was inexplicably funny.

The drinkers were still sensible enough to hold back, and no one really dared to laugh loudly.

They knew that small people needed to be cautious in their own survival wisdom and know when to follow their hearts.

None of this affected Claire, who drank the cheapest beer in silence.

This was the cheapest and inferior beer in the tavern, with a rough taste and a strong bitterness.

On the current Momba Star, it is difficult to find a decent job if you don't accept the employment of the Molson Consortium.

Since he quit his job at the mining company, he has almost completely cut off his source of income and has been barely making ends meet with his meager savings.

If it weren't for his alcohol addiction, Claire wouldn't have the audacity to go to Old John's tavern to buy on credit.

Even this bottle of cheap beer was a rare treat for him.

Claire looked up, shook the wooden wine glass vigorously, and poured the last bit of residue left on the wall of the glass into his mouth.

After exhaling the alcohol comfortably, Claire put the glass down heavily.

"Hey, man, another glass?"

A slender arm pushed the rum on the bar in front of him.

Claire was a little surprised, turned his head to look at the unfamiliar dwarf Aaron beside him, and asked tentatively: "Do we... know each other?"

He tried to confirm from his memories whether he had ever met the other party, and whether the other party was willing to invite him to drink a glass.

In a tavern near the slums, this rum is already the most expensive grade.

The price of one glass is equivalent to a small barrel of inferior wine. It's all caused by poverty.

"Moore, an interstellar merchant, a registered imperial merchant."

Moore showed his watch and used a projection to show the identity certificate of the Lance Empire merchant.

The tax department of the Lance Empire is a terrifying and violent agency, and its authority even extends to the anti-smuggling force.

Even if you are a descendant of the true god, if you want to engage in business activities, you must report to the tax department, apply for the scope of business, and pay taxes in full.

"Mr. Moore, we shouldn't have known each other before?"

Facing people with higher status than herself, Claire quickly showed due respect, the survival wisdom of a small person.

In the interstellar era, even the lower-class people living in remote areas of the empire are not completely isolated.

Mr. Moore in front of him, although not from the orthodox family of the Reims Empire, is a third-class honorary citizen of the empire.

The status of honorary citizen is awarded to aliens who have made special contributions to the empire and enjoy the same status as formal citizens.

The highest-level citizen Claire had seen before was a small supervisor of a mining company, who was only a sixth-class citizen.

Moore shook the wine glass in his hand and smiled: "Drink this glass, don't we know each other?"

"I just arrived at Momba Star and want to find someone familiar with the place to work for me. I wonder if you are interested?"

He raised his glass and touched the glass of wine that he had pushed in front of Claire before.

"You said, you want to hire me to do something?"

Claire was a little surprised to hear this news, but more surprised.

Although the world says that the merchants of Alon are stingy, for him who is almost out of food, to fill his stomach, he needs a rare job opportunity.

If the other party occasionally gives him some bonuses, it will be even better.

At this time, not only Claire, but also the drinkers who are eavesdropping, envy his good luck.

If they were not intimidated by the presence of the two half-orc bodyguards, they would have surrounded him long ago, hoping to ask Mr. Moore for a job.

If there were any other options, who would be willing to be a cheap laborer for the vampires of the Molson Consortium?

"Mr. Moore, you think too highly of me."

Although Claire wanted to seize this opportunity, he didn't want to cheat the other party, so he said with some trepidation: "But I don't have much experience and I'm afraid I will delay your business."

Moore smiled and waved his hand: "Haha, haven't you been a pilot of an interstellar mining ship? This is exactly what I need."

Claire was stunned and didn't understand.

Because mining ships are a boring and hard job, many people will be interested in a person because of this.

"You should be familiar with the asteroid belt around the galaxy. Just point the way for the exploration ship."

Moore did not hide his purpose, and then explained: "Of course, I won't be stupid enough to explore the main mining areas circled by the Molson Consortium."

"I plan to try my luck and see if I can find some leaks in the undeveloped or barren areas that they disdain to mine."

Moore's remarks were prepared long ago, and there was nothing wrong with it.

In this area, not only the star system where Momba is located, but also the surrounding galaxies are now actually controlled by the Molson family.

But on the surface, this place is still under the jurisdiction of the empire.

Even if the Molson Consortium moves in on a large scale and frantically grabs resources, it dare not implement a blockade.

Other big chaebols or interstellar merchants, although the bulk of their profits are occupied by the Molson Consortium, have reduced their investment in this galaxy group.

However, they will not completely abandon their past investments and hand them over to the Molson Consortium.

Who doesn’t have a family background when it comes to becoming a big and powerful interstellar chaebol?

Even if it’s a foreign merchant like Moore, how can he become a third-class honorary citizen without the support and protection of a big force behind him?

If the Mooreson Consortium really wants to eat alone and refuses to even take a sip of soup, it will really anger the public.

Unless the True God speaks personally, the Mooreson Consortium managed by the collateral descendants really doesn’t have that much face.

Of course, this is not possible.

Eternal True God, you have to be cool.

“Then thank you for your respect, I will do my best!”

Reassured, Claire clinked glasses with Moore and sipped happily.

The rich aroma of wine, the smooth taste, and the mellowness with a hint of sweetness are really wonderful things that I haven’t experienced for a long time.

A rich boss who is not arrogant at all and takes the initiative to pay for his own drinks is simply the employer he dreams of.

How much better than the Molson Group, that group of black-hearted bastards?

Claire did not forget to pray to the extremely revered True God Molson in his heart, and complained by the way.

He firmly believed that one day the True God would bring new salvation to Momba Star and deal with those bastard descendants who tarnished the glory of the Molson family.