I’ve noticed the same few jobs crop up in fantasy novels. Obviously you have your classics – the royal, the farmboy who’s secretly a royal, and the assassin. If you’re feeling a bit fancy you might throw in a thief, a tavern keeper, a soldier, a pirate, or some sort of spinoff of any of the aforementioned. The fantasy employment pool is strikingly narrow.
What’s weird is that real history produced jobs so specific, so morally dubious, and so socially radioactive that they might as well have been invented for a fantasy novel. I took inspiration from a few of these real jobs to give you a list of ideas for your fantasy characters.
Resurrectionist
Resurrectionists were professional body-snatchers who exhumed corpses to sell to medical schools. This tradition peaks in the early modern period, but grows directly out of medieval prohibitions around dissection. Medicine needed bodies. The church forbade tampering with the dead. Someone had to bridge that gap, and you can be sure they weren’t doing it for free.
When people caught onto the fact that this was happening, they retaliated with traps, “triple-coffins” and round-the-clock grave guards. Although many resurrectionists were – for want of a better word – freelancers, some of them worked in gangs, which is a cute setup for a fantasy novel.
One body snatcher testified, "a man may make a good living at it, if he is a sober man, and acts with judgement, and supplies the schools.”
Sin-Eater
A sin-eater is someone who eats a ritual meal to spiritually absorb the sins of the dead. Usually this is done to absolve the sins of a deceased person who died without confessing their sins.
The term "sin-eater" seems to originate from Welsh culture, but the concept applies to practices observed around the world. There’s no consensus on how popular this job or role was in real life – in fact, it might be almost entirely folkloric – but you’re writing a fantasy novel so I suppose you’re fine with that.
As Betram S. Puckle describes in 1926 book Funeral Customs:
Abhorred by the superstitious villagers as a thing unclean, the sin-eater cut himself off from all social intercourse with his fellow creatures by reason of the life he had chosen; he lived as a rule in a remote place by himself, and those who chanced to meet him avoided him as they would a leper. This unfortunate was held to be the associate of evil spirits, and given to witchcraft, incantations and unholy practices; only when a death took place did they seek him out, and when his purpose was accomplished they burned the wooden bowl and platter from which he had eaten the food handed across, or placed on the corpse for his consumption.
Lamplighter
When public street lighting was developed in the 16th century, someone needed to light them. A lot of the time, this role also doubled as a watchman. In many cities they followed fixed routes, meaning the same person passed the same doors every night. This gave them an intimate knowledge of the city after dark that few else shared.
I like the idea of a fantasy crew of lamplighters whose job it is to keep a malevolent darkness at bay. Maybe the darkness is a monster? I also quite enjoy the idea of a totally mundane lamplighter who witnesses a crime and gets sucked into the city’s criminal underbelly.
Alewife
An alewife was a woman who brewed and sold ale, usually from her own home. In medieval England, ale was often safer than water and consumed by everyone, including children.
I like the idea of an alewife who also brews and sells potions in her cauldron. If you want to learn more about them, I wrote a Substack essay about alewives and how they inspired the “tavern wench” trope. I think it’s pretty fun, you can read it here. Here’s an excerpt:
If you’ve read even two fantasy novels in your life, you already know her. You can spot her when the obligatory tavern scene rolls around. She’s weaving through the tables, balancing tankards, leaning saucily over the bar. With her Cockney accent and her overflowing jugs (of both sorts), she’s a staple of fantasy media, here to serve you some pints and some exposition (“Strange folk have been seen in the forest, m’lord”). By the next morning she has left behind a warm meal, a soft bed and three paragraphs of prose about her cleavage.
Back in the medieval era, ales were subject to inspection, and alewives were frequent targets of fines for short measures and overcharging. Because they sold directly to neighbours, often on credit, alewives became highly visible figures in their communities. It was a way for women to gain some level of financial autonomy, but it made them an easy figure to blame when things went wrong.
Alewives were accused of watering down ale, encouraging drunkenness, gossiping, and disorder, especially as brews got stronger. Did your son spend all his money getting sloshed? Somehow that’s a woman’s fault.
Whipping Boy
This one’s very sad, though it was probably not a real job. A whipping boy is a child raised alongside a prince, educated with him, and punished in his place. It was believed to be inappropriate to strike a future king. Instead, when the prince misbehaved or failed in his lessons, the whipping boy was beaten. The idea was that witnessing his friend’s suffering would make the prince behave.
That said, there’s little evidence to prove this job existed, and some evidence that princes did get corporally punished. Still, you’re writing fiction, and it’s quite a compelling job for a protagonist (or villain!) You could even apply magic to this concept. The tutor gets to punish the real prince but the pain and damage transfers to the whipping-boy.
Groom of the Stool
The Groom of the Stool is a male servant who helps the King go to the bathroom. He provides towels and linens, but also keeps an eye on the King’s diet and liaises with the court’s doctor. An incredibly intimate role.
By the Tudor period, this was a post for noblemen, not servants. Because this job required the Groom to be alone with the king at his least dignified, it became one of the most intimate posts at court. While everyone else competed for a moment of royal attention in public, the Groom had the king cornered, seated, and in no position to leave.
Dr Edward Dutton writes for History Extra:
“When Henry VIII came to the throne he appointed his life-long friend as his bottom-wiper-in-chief. Compton would arrange romantic trysts for the young Henry at his London home on Thames Street, and on the back of his royal intimacy (and consequent ability to influence royal patronage), Compton became exceptionally rich. Henry showered him with lucrative offices, including chancellor of Ireland, sheriff of Worcestershire, and sheriff of Somerset and Dorset. By 1521 Compton stewarded (managed) more royal estates than all the other courtiers put together.”
Town Crier
Hear ye, hear ye. A town crier (also known as a bellman) is an officer of a royal court who goes into town ringing a handbell and announces whatever needs announcing. A lot of people were illiterate in medieval times, so the town crier was a useful way to learn about the local news, royal proclamations, market days, and even ads.
Criers occupied an odd position. They were close to power without possessing it. They spoke for authorities who might never appear in person, and they absorbed public anger meant for someone else.
I quite like the idea of a town crier who edits the things they read on the parchment scroll in order to avoid town conflicts, or for their own selfish ends. You could also do a story where a town crier learns that whatever they announce comes true, even if they veer off-script.
