"Your penmanship is atrocious," Laira giggled.

"Hey! I'm gonna take that teasing personal soon! Isn't 'atrocious' too big a word for such a little girl?" Walter muttered, and ruffled her hair, "And why are you going through my codex anyway?"

"Because I was curious, silly--hey!"

Walter snatched the stack of papers from Laira's hands and held it over his head. She kept jumping and reaching to get them back.

"Can you even read?" Walter asked.

Laira pouted. "No, but I want to see it anyway!"

Walter snorted a laugh. After putting the codex on top of the kitchen fireplace, he said, "Not a chance, kiddo, I don't want to lose them. Besides, we need to help Elin."

She clasped her hands together and tilted her head, "Carry me?"

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Elin, dressed in her 'Rose of the Rapier' armor, supervised the Adventurer Guild workers. A short caravan parked in front of their barn. Commodities moved, through a chain of hands, from neatly stacked piles to a prepared wagon. The sound of bones rattling, jelly sloshing, and arms clacking satisfied Elin. The bigger the stacks, the higher their earnings, and the more secure their immediate future.

The workers themselves looked like a collection of poverty-stricken beggars, but they moved urgently and professionally. They were paid for results, and not the time worked, so they were behooved to finish quickly and leave the cold.

Lucy, their assigned guild representative, dressed in multiple layers, marked notations on a clipboard. "There's far more than I anticipated."

"This is just the above-ground monstraculture, so it's likely a one-time thing," Elin stated, "We made a serious effort to clear the area."

"We?" Lucy asked.

"Walter and I."

"Your supplier? He hasn't signed out a pack in a long time. Did he ever sign a contract of exclusivity with you? Well, should I arrange for the masons? They can assist with repairing the farm's perimeter walls, after stripping the dungeons, and we can deduct the labor from the difference. Do you need clearance for a delve? I'm certain I can obtain for you special permission."

Elin avoided feeding her gossip on Walter. "Our plan is safety, at present. Considering the upcoming situation. We won't be investing time into delving."

Lucy asked, "Should I arrange some quests?"

Elin mused for a moment about splurging on furniture. At the very least, a bed. "Maybe a short-term and lucrative one. We don't have a lot of free time."

An elf woman approached Lucy and Elin, eyes downcast, and the two stared. The elf looked malnourished, cold, and tired. Her face, smeared with dirt, was one of many to be found clinging to life, begging for food and safety, outside Letun's walls.

"Go back to work," Lucy said, "The sooner you finish, the sooner we can leave."

The elf ignored Lucy and kept her head bowed. "Lady Elin?"

"Yes?" Elin tilted her head. A knot of guilt tied up her stomach.

A hopeful tone rose in the elf's voice. "Will you be selecting servants soon? If so, then I offer my services as a maid--"

Elin kept her response brusque. "At present, our status as a household is not official. We are not seeking bondservants."

The elf apologized and returned to work.

Letun's bylaws required the Adventurer's Guild hired the poor as 'workers,' a notion of charity to improve their odds of survival, the same as alms from the temples.

Elin watched them. They all wanted to ask, and they eavesdropped. A universal look of disappointment spread over the group. Finding a secure position in a household guaranteed their family's lives, and some might not make it through the winter. Servant's work might go unpaid, and they suffered a loss of some rights, but they could expect shelter, clothing, and steady food. The man of the house might assign allowances to his favorites, and trustworthy servants might wield delegated authority.

Desperate paupers preferred to be property rather than starve to death.

Taking them on might save someone, but we simply can't. I don't know how Walter feels about it, but I wish to. It's just not feasible. Failing to provide for a bondservant would violate the stewardship laws. We're unfurnished, we don't have a stocked larder, and there's limited protection. They would simply be recycled back to poverty.

Elin's fingers flicked the pommel of her sword. The weight felt useless. It doesn't feed, and it doesn't shelter. It just spills blood.

Walter arrived, Laira in his arms, and spoke with Lucy. He confirmed the counts and handled the invoice. Elin sighed in relief, he did so without her asking. If she could avoid handling money, then she would. Her femininity suffered enough.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I can't imagine Walter playing favorites.

With the goods packed and business concluded, the convoy circled, wagon wheels creaked, and they proceeded with their delivery. The group of workers followed behind. Many shot furtive glances towards Elin as they passed. Until they were off the property, and possibly after, many still hoped to be contracted.

When they were gone, Elin closed her eyes and let out a slow breath.

"You alright?" Walter asked, bumping her to get her attention.

She opened her eyes and smiled. "I'm better now. Where's Laira?" Elin fiddled with the buckles of his gambeson.

"Sister Lora returned. She's watching--holy hell you're freezing!"

She snaked her arms under his coat and hugged him.

After catching his breath, he put his arms around her, "Anyway, you little body heat vampire, Lucy said we'd have to go to the guild to collect the pay. It was a bigger sum than she expected. So, since you've been such a great girlfriend and all, I figured you deserved some shopping."

"You're rewarding me?" Elin looked Walter in the face, "We're buying a bed."

"Is there a tradition about them, too?"

Elin pursed her lips, and her eyes shifted, "Yes?"

Walter laughed, "Busted."

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Sister Lora prowled the Firewood District, one of Letun's side streets, only accessible by foot and by cutting through several alleyways. Over time, modified repairs and false walls camouflaged the place. The architecture provided ample and necessary privacy to the residents. It earned its name from the men carrying a single piece of firewood into the area, a wordless proposition to the Disciples of Venus that dwelled here. Black marketers peddled goods, as well, since the Disciples paid or screwed the constables to ignore the area. A tiny self-contained criminal alcove.

Unlike the merchants and criers of the official market district, nobody advertised their goods. If you didn't know what you were looking for, then you weren't going to find it. Plausible deniability and rumors were the business model.

She ignored the merchants. What she sought was an emblem of a two-faced goddess looking in opposite directions. If you preferred her lust, you called her Venus, and if you preferred her love, you called her Aphrodite. She answered to other names. The theocracy to the north called her 'Alune,' the obsessor, and druids referred to her as Narcissa, the self-indulgent.

Finding the emblem proved easy. It rested over the doorway of the fanciest house, with the windows covered in sheer drapes. When she stopped and listened, Sister Lora detected moans, both soft and hard, from out-of-sight rooms.

The women inside, nearly nude and in a fashion mocking the heroines, lounged inside. From a corner, one of the women, her breasts hanging out, said to a lost-looking young man, "First time?" Sister Lora pulled her hood down further.

One of the women whispered as she sauntered by, "Welcome back. She's expecting you upstairs."

The higher Sister Lora climbed, the thicker the scent of dope and other drugs. When she reached the furthest door, she opened it.

"You didn't knock," a woman's sing-song voice chided her.

"I never do."

The hostess in front of Sister Lora didn't turn around. Instead, she prepared a drink at a side-table, dressed in a see-through robe and revealed a body born for erotic delight. After the hostess poured the spirits, she mixed in a white powder and silently gulped it herself.

"Would you like one? I never can get through the day without one, or three. Especially these days."

"No thank you," Sister Lora said.

The hostess wiped a droplet from her painted lips, turned, and said, "Well, if it isn't the lovely Viper herself. You know, not many realized you were a pretty little package of a woman. Have you brought back your chemical talents to ply your wicked ways with me? Venus knows I'm lacking a wonderful experience."

"I don't go by that name anymore, don't use it carelessly," Sister Lora politely reminded her, "And, no. You know better. I seek your wares, not your services."

The hostess pouted, "Shame. Still, a girl can hope, one day, you'll change your mind." After sitting on a soft fabric couch, the hostess crossed her legs and gazed at Sister Lora under her eyelashes. "By all means, sit."

Once they were both seated, the hostess pointed to a small bag on a coffee table between them, "I believe that's why you're here."

Sister Lora's eyes rested on the bag. "I won't trade for it. I can't afford it, at any rate, and neither can my client, currently."

"It's a gift, my dear, a token of appreciation for our history! No strings attached." The hostess's seriousness sharpened like a razor to a throat, "Admittedly, I would like to gossip a little, a little quid pro quo."

"I won't betray anyone."

"Naturally," the hostess said. "I won't pressure you to. Let me ease you into it because you seem tense. A little bird told me your mistress sent you to another, a famous heroine. Is that true?"

Sister Lora nodded.

"Something you may not know: the Five Kingdom's Congress is already underway but seems to have stalled out. It seems our illustrious Crown Prince Wilhelm reversed his decision to smooth things over with General Tybalt, based on a certain military rumor."

Sister Lora hissed a sigh.

The hostess shrugged, "Peace isn't the objective this time, it seems. So, let me confirm what everyone else already knows. Is she a Level 100, or is that misinformation bullshit?"

"She is."

"Someone said she was at odds with the Temple of Gaia since she ascended." The hostess chewed her finger a moment. "Is she a pious woman? Do me and the girls have to worry about her judgment?"

"Her attention will not turn to you if that's what you're asking. I won't reveal any personal details."

The hostess waved her hand as if spreading out cigar smoke, "That's fine, that's fine. We'll collect that in due time. Does anyone know how she got so strong? Was it related to the failed summoning?"

Sister Lora didn't answer.

"Our semi-religious clients whisper about her having a lover, seems it's her squire. A bold move for such a traditional girl. She established a household, is she accepting bondservants?"

"Tentatively," Sister Lora dropped her head, "I say this as one friend to another, respectfully, I wasn't simply sent to them to be protected. I won't tolerate interlopers."

The hostess rolled her eyes. "No, of course not. I wouldn't ruin our friendship. Some of the girls want a better life, they don't all fuck for fun."

Sister Lora stood and picked up the small bag on the coffee table. "All the same."

When Sister Lora reached the door, the hostess asked, "Is she into girls? Will she permit a harem?"

"Not a chance."

"Shame."

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Sister Lora returned to the household. The workers finished their work, and Sir Walter finalized the invoice. The bag of heart-shaped herbs turned in her fingers. For a moment, she internally debated reporting to Lady Elin they couldn't be located, because she wasn't sure it was a good idea. Finally, she brushed aside her doubt. Lady Elin did deserve one day for the years she endured. All Sister Lora could do is hope it didn't make Lady Elin's rebellion worse.

They ordered some furniture and ordered their canopy bed express delivered. After Laira's childish antics distracted Sir Walter, Sister Lora delivered the herbs.

"It's a dose large enough for a single night. Make the most of it."