I helped Nicola to a seat by a fountain.

She grasped her head and breathed harshly enough that I feared her heart would tumble out of her chest.

“I don't know what came over me," she said. "They’re going to try to kill me now, won’t they? What should I do? Where do I go?”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, hoping it offered a modicum of comfort.

Nicola shivered. “Heralds. I think I’m going to be sick. I just wanted to keep my head down and give my all to the job. I didn’t ask for any of this!”

I said nothing and drew her even closer.

Nicola was right to freak out, considering what I’d seen of Red Wyrm. But, a part of me approved of the fact she had stood up for herself. One never won against bullies by burying their heads in the sand. I'd learned that much from my experiences with dad.

“Damien, what do we do?” Nicola said in a small voice.

I pondered the problem. “Honestly? There’s no way Red Wyrm will allow this insult to slide. We should expect another altercation, sooner rather than later. Ezin can't do much to help us outside the guild, so for the most part, we are on our own.”

Nicola’s eyes hardened. “We can assassinate them before they get a chance to retaliate.”

“Where the hell did that come from?”

Nicola didn’t waver. “You don't know Red Wyrm like I do, Damien. You've never heard of the atrocities they commit in the shadows. We'd do everyone in Skeelie a favor by doing them in. And, if you don't have the stomach for it, I could hire some people—”

“Hey! We're not going to assassinate anyone over this matter. There’s a big difference between that and killing in self-defense.”

“It’s self-defense if we preempt them. It’s almost certain that they would strike.”

“And, the next time we need murder to get rid of an obstacle, we’ll call it preemptive. On and on until we become the monsters everyone tries to stop.”

“Then let us be monsters,” Nicola said, rising to her feet. “I have family, Damien. I can't afford to let harm befall them, all because of a stupid spat.”

Silence descended over the two of us, punctuated by Nicola's breaths.

I was starting to see her angle. Why wait for an approaching snake to strike when one could kill it before it got started?

But, therein lay a slippery slope. Even if one could kill, should they always exercise that option?

“You mentioned your family,” I said in a quiet voice. “But, think of what would become of them if the authorities uncover your actions.”

Nicola stiffened.

“I'm not going to try to dissuade you any further," I added. "All I ask is that we wait a little more before making concrete plans. If anything, you're not alone. We're in this together.”

Nicola deflated and sat back on the fountain. Maybe a change of scenery would help? The current topic was too much of a downer.

“Would you like me to tag along on your visit to your family?” I asked, recalling our conversation with Ben from yesterday.

Nicola shook her head. “You wouldn’t like what you see.”

Ah. The Beelith girl had made a snide comment about Nicola's family. Something about them being in debt. It mattered little to me, what with being poor for most of my life.

“There’s no way I could hate your siblings, Nicola.”

That got her to smile. “Alright, then. I scheduled a visit for today anyway. But, they won't be expecting you. Ben's the only one I've ever brought along." Her smile dipped. "Just don’t think less of me after your visit.”

“Oh, please. I’m the one who should be worried. I suck at first impressions." The main street of Skeelie with its teeming vendors caught my attention. "What do you think would serve as an appropriate gift for your family?”

"Just bring yourself! What's not to like?"

I made my decision right there and then. Nicola was good people, the kind any party would die to have. And, I would get her on mine. Even if it meant sharing her burdens.

I didn’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.

Nicola led me to a large, stone building, situated near the city’s eastern wall. The dull grey paint gave the impression of a place devoid of warmth—a sight that wasn’t bettered by the armored guard that towered beside the gate.

His full plate armor was of better material than those of the city guard, and a sigil consisting of two coins and a wreath replaced the Bargherian coat of arms on the front of his surcoat.

Merchant Guard LVL 30.

The guard didn’t so much as say a word as we approached. Nicola didn’t offer a greeting either, which struck me as odd, considering she was one of the most genial people I knew. It was only after crossing the threshold that I realized why they had dispensed with formalities.

The building was enchanted.

The very air pressed down on me the instant we entered the courtyard, like heavy curtains draped around my form. [System] notifications glitched in the corner of my vision, triggering a series of haptic buzzes.

“Ugly feeling, isn’t it?” Nicola said through a grimace. “High-level enchantments were built into these walls. They target classers and interrupt their flow of energy. Trying to cast a technique here will result in a failure to activate, alongside a loss of energy.”

“So,” I wheezed, “it’s a lot like what prison cells are made of?”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“It is.”

“Why do they keep kids here?”

Nicola’s expression darkened. “Because they can”

“And, the city permits this?”

“Yes. The Archon Bank is more influential than you think. They justify their use of enchantments by saying that the precautions are meant to prevent outsiders from getting brilliant ideas.” She hugged herself, signaling her discomfort with the topic.

I fell silent as we walked past a barren lawn and into an empty reception. The building looked just as stately on the inside as it did on the out, with stone archways interspersed at intervals over a sterile, marble floor.

A single desk stood in an alcove opposite the entrance, protected by sturdy iron rails. A sleepy, old receptionist manned the desk, and she looked up from her book as we approached.

“Ah, Ms. Ainsworth,” the receptionist said, removing her spectacles. “I had no idea you were scheduled to visit. Is this, perhaps, the last one of the month?” She noticed me and her eyebrows rocketed into her hair. “What’s a Dark Elf doing here in Skeelie?”

“He’s with me,” Nicola said.

The receptionist continued gaping. “New visitors must seek—”

“Please, ma'am. Can’t you endorse his visit? Just this once?”

“You’re asking too much of me, girlie.”

Nicola didn’t reply.

The receptionist sighed and put her spectacles back in place. She opened a ledger that sat idle in front of her and grabbed a quill. “What’s your name, young one?”

“Damien,” I said. "Damien Njoku."

“And your class?”

Oh, this should be fun.

Nicola stomped my foot.

“A—ow!”

The old woman raised an eyebrow.

“He’s a Ranger,” Nicola told her in a voice laced with syrup.

“A Ranger, huh?” she mumbled. “A lot of elves seem to prefer that.” She stopped writing long enough to glance up from the ledger. “I’m risking my neck for you, Ms. Ainsworth, waiving an authorization like this. I don’t give anyone else the same kind of privileges.”

“I know, ma'am. And, I’m grateful. Thank you for everything you do.”

The receptionist nodded. “You know where to go. I’ll have the kids over in a few minutes.”

“Do they have any complaints?”

“Just the usual. Too cold. Too tired. Too little to eat. I try to do what I can. But, I’m not the matron, and you know how stringent the bank is with budgets.” She blew a strand of grey hair out of her face. “They loved the blankets that I got for them with the last money you offered. But, I can’t continue actions like those without drawing attention.”

Nicola bit her lip. “I understand . . .”

I sure as hell didn’t. It sounded like this place was some sort of orphanage, with the exception that everyone here was being held against their will?

Nicola led the way to a corridor that branched away from the anteroom and into a waiting area with dusty wooden benches and tables. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, long enough to reveal that the room didn’t see much use.

Nicola settled on a bench without bothering to dust it. I slid in opposite her and stared hard at the table.

“You have questions,” she said.

I didn’t bother being witty. “What is this place?”

“It’s an orphanage—”

“Really? There are violent prisoners out there who live in better conditions than this.”

“It’s not that bad . . .”

I fixed her with a blank stare.

“Okay, I'll take that back. It's really bad here. It’s just . . . the Archon Bank needs a place to keep the kids until they come of age.”

“Come of age for what?”

“Indentured servitude.”

I rose as if electrocuted. “You mean slavery?”

“What? No. The Kingdom has abolished slavery.”

“That’s exactly what indentured servitude means! Just dressed in fancy robes.”

Nicola wrung her hands. “Damien, sit down. Please.”

I sat with some reluctance.

“The Archon bank always collects their debts,” Nicola said, looking everywhere but at me. “It sounds nasty, but it is perfectly legal all over Vizhima. Those who default on payments must make up for it in servitude. And, it’s not exactly equivalent.”

“But, why are kids involved?”

“Because the debt is bound in blood. My father owed the bank, and then he fled, leaving my siblings and I to pay for his sin.”

“You mean you once lived here too?”

“Yes. The Cult of Carnality secured my release.”

My eyes widened.

“No, it’s not like that,” she added in haste. “They didn’t make me work to repay the debt. The cult holds my trait in high esteem and couldn't bear to see me indentured. I became a carnal sister in gratitude.”

Well, that explained why someone with as much sense as Nicola mingled with a shady cult. She was too appreciative for her good.

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “Your siblings are being held until they pay off their share of your father’s debt . . .”

“Until I do.”

“And, if you don’t, the bank does what? Sell them off at eighteen?”

“Lease their contracts to anyone seeking indentured help, at fifteen.”

Oh, for the love of . . . “So, in the meantime, everyone in the city pretends that this is perfectly normal?”

“It is. And, the expenses for raising the kids are added to their debts.”

“That's exploitation, Nicola.”

“I know.” She drew in a breath. “But, the Archon Bank cannot be opposed. There is nothing I can do about it except pay up. At least, they play by the rules.”

“How much more do you need?”

“I don’t want your money, Damien.”

“I’m just asking.”

“No. Don’t.”

“Nicola . . .”

She ran a shaky hand through her braided hair. “It’s a little over twelve gold each.”

Oh . . . That amounted to what? Two thousand, four hundred pieces of silver? Did people here even have that kind of money?

“How long would it take to repay that figure in indenture?” I asked.

Nicola’s eyes glazed over. “About forty years each. The bank pegs the minimum wage for skilled labor at five silver coins a month. Unskilled labor draws even less, at three coins a month. But, all of that only starts counting after their contracts have been leased.”

Her features crumpled in an expression of grief. “If someone else leases their contract, I’d have a harder time buying it back. I need to secure their freedom before they turn fifteen, and the oldest does so three years from now.”

My stomach tossed unpleasantly. “Is there a way we can make a lot of money in a short amount of time?”

“There are ways. But, unless I resort to murder or theft, the dungeon egg is the best chance I’ve got. That route’s as good as suicide, however. My siblings would never let me take it.”

“Share.”

Nicola pressed a fist to her forehead in thought. “At the center of every dungeon lies a dungeon egg—a valuable item known for its unique applications in smithing and alchemy. The one in Skeelie is purported to be worth over twenty gold pieces.

“But, no one has reached the center of the Labyrinth since the dungeons respawned twenty years ago. And, there is no shortage of people looking to try each time the Labyrinth opens. It’s a fool’s errand.”

“Then, we shall become fools.”

“No, Damien.” And, at this, she withered, going limp like her strings had been cut. “Half the people who go into the Labyrinth do not return. And, I’ll never forgive myself for dying while my siblings are trapped in this hell. I’ll get the money the hard way, by saving a little from every job I take.”

But, Nicola was about twenty years of age. And, she still hadn’t come any closer to relieving her burden. Someone was going to have to give between her and the bank.

I didn’t know which.