The Guild Origin

Workers all around the world always felt like outsiders. They didn't own anything, they didn't believe in anything, and they didn't have money for much. They just worked 16-18 hours per day in order to get enough to feed their families and spend some at the local tavern.

They didn't know, but they have something great within – companionship. If anyone had a problem, someone will come forward and help. Sometimes several came forward to help. For more than 500 year they fight as one. But in the new millennium, some started to think different and their thoughts started to ruin this companionship.

“Aaaaaaaarg!” James was rolling down the stairs, bumping his head on the wooden planks, painfully landing on the iron bars. A moment of fear, then the pain started kicking in, then the sadness. For the first time since many years, James was crying. The sound of footsteps from inside the house; the sound was approaching. “Oh no”, he thought to himself and instantly got up to his feet as if his body was a spring. He swiftly wiped the tears from his cheeks and fixed his clothes. His wife had heard the noise and was coming to see what had happened. She shouldn’t see him like this. No, his dignity was all he had. He was the man of the family, the strong one. He was supposed to be taking care of the others, not needing help himself. The door opened. “What happened?” His wife was staring down at him, eyes and mouth wide open, worried. “Oh, nothing, I just tripped and fell from the stairs, I’m so tired I can’t even look in front of me”, he tried to force a carefree smile. He couldn’t make it. “Honey, you’ve been working for more than 15 hours. In fact you’ve been working all day for more than two months. Can’t you see that it’s killing you? You need to get some rest.” She led him in the house.

It was an empty house with only a kitchen toilet and two bedrooms. One bed and cupboard for every bedroom, theirs and their son’s. A kitchen table with three chairs. Three pictures hanging from the wall: a portrait of James from when he was 20 years old, one of his father and one of Mary’s parents. A brown carpet with red and yellow designs. Nothing else. It seemed to be empty and inhospitable but in fact he found it to be quite warm and comfortable. It was his home. “You know very well that working all day is the only way we can keep living in this nice house and have food in our plates.” She didn’t answer. She knew he was right.” Speaking of food”, he said, “Something smells nice. What are you planning to feed me, woman?” He was beginning to cheer up. “Wow, you have a very sensitive nose Mr. Toyce. It took you 15 seconds to realize that your favorite food is waiting for you!” The food was great. Mary was beautiful and his son a good boy. Yeah, they may were poor, but they were living a peaceful life. They loved each other and they were there for one another. Look at all these rich men: wrinkles on their face, angry eyes, and tight lips. Always dissatisfied, always looking for something, never at rest. What do these people want? What do they want from us poor workers? After dinner, James headed to the local tavern to drink a couple of beers with his friends. He wasn’t surprised to find them all there. That was the usual case. This time though, something unusual had happened.

“They want to take me to jail! These bloody bastards, I’ve been working my ass off for them all these years, I’ve been a slave for so long, and now that I’m claiming my rights they’re putting me on trial.” Jim’s eyes were alternately looking at each one of the men and the bottom of his beer bottle. His voice was loud and trembling. His face was like that of an old bull which had been chasing red flags old day: tired and furious. Mike stood up and his fist hit the table. The smashing sound echoed in the small tavern and all heads turned to look at him. “WHAT!” he roared.

“Who the hell do they think they are. They treat us like dogs, making us work all day for a bone, getting rich by having us do all the hard work and on top of that, they want to put us in jail?” He took a deep breath, his nostrils widened. “I will KILL THEM!” “Wait, wait, and wait.” Stevie was relatively calm. From this group of men, he was the one who drunk less, therefore he was the most sober. “There’re has to be some explanation.

What do you mean ‘claimed your rights’? What exactly did you ask them to do?” “Nothing, Stevie. I just told them that I can’t be working for 16 hours a day anymore.” His voice was trembling once again. “I’m getting old, Stevie. I’m getting weak. I’m supposed to be working in order to survive but my job is killing me. And they called an ungrateful old bastard. They said that not only will they fire me, they will put me on trial for trying to exploit them and do everything they can to put me in jail. Ha! ME, trying to exploit THEM!” Jim had slumped over the table. He was inhaling loudly, as if crying, but without tears.

James firmly put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly my old friend. You know very well that to put you behind bars they have to do the same to all of us. No? He looked around the table, meeting everyone’s eyes. “YES!” they all yelled together. Low decisive rumble voice. Fire coming out of their eyes. “We are all together in this. We may be poor, but we have companionship. This is our weapon. Remember: we are right, they are wrong. Never forget that. No matter how much you feed a dog, it always comes back for more. If we keep letting them do what they want, soon they’ll take everything from us. It’s time to claim our rights, get what we deserve. Yes, the time is now. Now or never. Are you all with me?” “YES!” They all stood up laughing, yelled and punched the table. It broke. If each one alone had punched the table nothing would have happened, but when the strength of men is combined for a common cause, strange and wonderful things can happen. The workers had decided to stand up.