Rabecca, horrified, realized she cost a meager two gold coins, the lowest possible price for unskilled slaves. The Wilmand Kingdom exchanged punitive contracts at the rate of one-quarter gold coin per year, and Princess Roselynde included a one-half discount for unruliness. For a moment, before she thought it through, the price infuriated her. Sixteen years of her life changed hands for a paltry sum.

Two? Sweet Aphrodite, what the fuck? I'm a mage, and my breasts, by themselves, are worth far more than that! Are you kidding me? I have more money than that in the Adventurer's Guild bank, of all the stupid, moronic, dumb--

The royal family sought to off-load unprofitable slaves because of ongoing feeding and management costs, or, depending on the severity of the crime, shipped them directly to conscription or hard labor. Hence, her cheapness as a direct purchase. If they sent her to auction, then Rabecca might see sums over two-hundred gold coins, to purchase her magic and looks. She calmed down. Punitive contracts, at the discretion of the holder, lasted, at maximum, until the timelimit or, at a minimum, that they become profitable.

At this point, Rabecca, as a legally owned slave, possessed no property and held no coin. Everything in her possession, even the clothes on her back, belonged to Lord Walter. But, if they used her to fight monsters, she could petition for emancipation, in less than a year. She could earn Lord Walter enough money that quickly, despite the healing costs. The insult turned into an advantage.

The Adventurer's Guild, temporarily controlled by Prince Peterby while they assign a new Master-in-Chief, and the Mage's University struck her name from their charters. Until her slave contract ended, she could not reapply. Losing her memberships upset her the most. Rejoining the Adventurer's Guild would not be a problem, but she would be barred from the university.

"Enjoy your new slave!" Princess Roselynde fluttered her eyes, "Oh, one other thing. Constable?" While the constable locked a collar around her neck, the princess continued, "This is a custom from the heroes, a freshly collared woman. Consider it a gift from us to you. Have fun!"

The room of noblemen and noblewomen tittered.

Lord Walter grumbled under his breath.

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Once he brought her home, Lord Walter explained, without a prompt and in no uncertain terms, that he would not sleep with her. Rabecca balked. After her ordeal, she couldn't fathom starting relationships, and twice-repeated trauma was enough. It felt insulting, again, but understandable.

Lady Elin laid down the law, "Make no mistake, I catch you attempting to seduce Walter, and you're back on the auction block. But I couldn't turn away. Don't betray my trust, and don't manipulate my kindness."

Rabecca promised to be on her best behavior.

With a gleeful smile plastered over her habit-hidden face, Sister Lora shoved a bucket and a bristle brush into Rabecca's arms. "I'm in charge of your chores."

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"I thought," Rabecca faked a cough to remove the dismay from her voice, "That I would be earning my keep with extermination?"

"Does it seem like Lord Walter and Lady Elin require the assistance? In addition to the main house, you'll be tending to mine."

Duan, too, dumped chores on her, so Rabecca juggled a load of laundry in addition to the cleaning tools.

"We used to adventure together! Cut me a break. Please!"

Duan shrugged, "You like firewood in the fireplace, right? That's my job, and this is yours. Sorry, but you're the slave here, so wash it before I return. At least I'm not making you split logs." He disappeared into the woods to gather or smoke dope, she wasn't sure which, before she could complain. She never expected Duan to take advantage of free labor with such callosity.

Laira, the little girl, seemed nice, at first, too. "Carry me!"

Rabecca worked her fingers to the bone, from sunup to sundown, and rushed between the main house, Sister Lora's cottage, and Duan's hovel. Well, I can't complain. It's either this, hard work for a year or two, or the auction block, and sixteen years of working so hard I die or want to die. I didn't expect it to be so ego-busting, though. This sucks. I have to take care of myself after everyone else.

Ironically, the main house's maintenance taxed her the least. Lord Walter and Lady Elin didn't request much. Lady Elin cooked, right down to hauling her own buckets, and Lord Walter tidied up after himself, though he never made a mess in the first place. Lady Elin asked her why she hovered. Rabecca cringed with guilt and admitted, "The work is easiest here."

"Don't get lazy." Lady Elin answered with a neutral tone that lacked sympathy or cruelty, "It won't always be this difficult after Walter starts proper bondservant interviews. He evaluated your work at three silver per day and decided to care for you for free. If you slack off, then I'll get cross. Furthermore, you'll ruin that dress working, so we have a tunic for you. Dinner will be prepared in an hour."

"You'll let me break bread at your table, even as a slave?"

"Walter doesn't see you that way. You're working off a debt."

Rabecca folded the tunic in her hands and stared at it as she talked, "If I'm not here to join Lord Walter's harem, and my magic isn't needed, then why am I here, really? I have no skills, otherwise, and I understand he pitied me, and I thank him for that, but I'm nothing."

"Walter," Lady Elin searched for the words to continue, "has his reasons. Don't pry into it."

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Erik quit the Adventurer's Guild and signed Lord Walter's and Lady Elin's charter. Rabecca eavesdropped on the negotiation.

His alchemy processed the collected monstraculture into more valuable components, and his talent allowed him to disarm and harvest traps. He secured himself a 'skilled worker' contract and a generous reservation of gold. While he currently slept in the bunkhouse, Lord Walter planned to construct an official depot in the future with an attached room and laboratory. Erik, if he remained on-hand, would move into it then.

Monstraculture processing, however, edged into a legal grey area, so Lord Walter negotiated with the acting Master-in-Chief Prince Peterby for an exemption. They decided on a small fee to compensate for the guild's missed profits.

As per the law, Erik requested Lord Walter to secure his personal lockbox of earnings. Rabecca peeked, and her eyes bulged. While not nobleman levels of rich, Erik's work as an adventurer seemed voluntary. When she thought about it, it made sense. He maintained his own gear, created what he required, and repurposed monstraculture he didn't sell into tools. Ultimately, he worked with near-zero expenses. Rabecca never felt so envious.

She watched him work, mixing slime-jellies with chemicals and grinding bonemeal, and remembered her silly plans to house with him.

Maybe being stuck here isn't the worst thing.