The trip to the Free Rogue’s company hall didn’t take long, and I had a good idea when we arrived why Francois picked the tavern that he did. The company hall was one building over and across the street from the tavern. The shit-eating smirk on Francois’ face when he told me that we’d arrived after crossing the street and walking 50 feet tempted my desire to smack him. He was correct in describing it as a nice place; most of the places in the trade quarter of the city were more than decent. Seeing as this was the city quarter that handled, processed, shipped and sold the bulk of the raw materials from the tower. It wasn’t just the heart of commerce in the city, both the trade quarter and the poor quarter divvied up the vast majority of processing and crafting for all the goods sold.

It was fairly simple to figure out which quarter took which work. If it was disgusting or unpleasant to be around, it was located in the poor quarter. Everything else went to the trade quarter. Thus you had people like me in the poor quarter employed working in the slaughterhouses, tanneries, textile and paper mills, foundries and the like. The labor that was more skill intensive went to the trade quarter.

The net result of the division between the two neighboring quarters was that the trade quarter was far cleaner, with more upscale buildings and a significantly lower chance of getting stabbed for your coin purse. The company hall was four stories tall and was made from an aesthetically pleasing timber framed style with dark brown stained timber and cream colored walls. The front door was a dark lacquered wooden wicket door bound and fitted in wrought iron. Francois opened the inset human-sized door and held it open for me to enter.

Stepping through, I saw the front entrance area was spacious and open and had the feeling of a small town inn. Or at least, what I thought a small town inn would look and feel like; I’d never set foot outside of Foundation personally. Mage lights mounted in candelabras simulated bright candle lighting with none of the smoke, dripping wax or risk of burning the building to the ground. Some table and chair sets were strewn around haphazardly in varying sizes, and there was a proper bar and a full hearth in the main room. Like the tavern we’d just come from, various weapons and armor pieces were proudly hung from the walls.

Stepping in behind me, Francois called over to the blonde elven woman working the bar and asked: “Ey Eilyen, is te boss in?”

Thankfully the place was basically empty at the moment, so she didn’t have to shout her response: “In his office, like usual.”

Francois turned to me and said: “Righ’ follow me ‘en lass.” I followed along at a comfortable distance as we cut along the front wall to the left corner of the building, and we climbed up a closed stairwell to the fourth floor. I didn’t get to see too much more of the hall on the way up, just corridors and doorways on both the second, third and fourth floors. The fourth floor made me feel uncomfortable as we walked down a hallway. The first floor was nice, but the top floor was nice. The doors were beautiful, lacquered wood fitted with brass hardware that matched the parquet wood flooring. My nerves started acting up on me, and I got jittery. If the tavern we’d come from was out of my price range, this was far in excess of the sorts of places I was used to being in. Images of blue-blooded nobility draped in silks flitted through my mind which I knew was absurd, but I couldn’t help but think.

Stopping at one of the doors in the hallway seemingly at random, Francois knocked twice and winked over at me. I was slightly relieved that it seemed like any of the other very nice doors in the hall, I was expecting an antechamber or something.

A male voice came through the door: “Come in.”

Francois opened the door and led the way, and the door clicked itself shut behind us once we both stepped into the room. The room itself was not really what I was expecting. It was a generously sized office, but it had a healthy amount of clutter and a very lived-in feel to it. I wasn’t terribly surprised to see a narrow cot pressed against the back wall of the room. The walls were practically wallpapered in all kinds of maps and documents. Some things I recognized easily enough, like schedules, tower maps, city maps, portraits and various bills and wanted posters.

A big man sat behind an equally big desk that was just as plastered with documents and papers as the walls. He had short, sandy colored hair, blue eyes and a cleft chin. I sort of suspected that he probably had dimples when he smiled, too. When he stood from his chair, I had to adjust my head to compensate for his height. He had to be nearly seven feet tall and had shoulders and arms that invoked the image of a blacksmith. He wore simple, comfortable clothing: a short-sleeved white linen tunic and brown landsknecht pants.

He looked me over, then turned his gaze over to Francois. I didn’t sense any judgement coming from him when he inspected me, more curiosity than anything.

“Ey Boss. ‘Is ‘ere is Senwyn. I found’er comin’ ou’ te gates in te plaza wit’ a grizzly under one arm and a giant badger under te o’er wres’lin ‘em an given ‘em noogies. Go’ a good feelin’ from’er too, lass holds ‘er booze like a keg.”

I shot a dirty look over at Francois when he embellished my return to the city to a ridiculous degree, but he just grinned back at me. He did raise a good point, though. I must have drunk close to a gallon of brew in short order, which would normally get me fairly messed up, but I didn’t feel even the slightest hint of a buzz. Odd.

The ‘boss’ held out his hand, which I shook. He had callused hand the likes of which made it look like he was shaking hands with a child. I guessed his gentle grip was because he was being careful with my hand; he looked like he could squeeze steel out of a hunk of iron ore.

He introduced himself with a pleasingly deep and rumbly voice: “I’m Roland, founder and leader of the Free Rogue’s Trading Company, but I expect that Francois has told you that already. We don’t often get potential recruits through these doors, and never before anyone with your level. You must have made a good impression on the rat bastard.” Francois burst out laughing next to me, and Roland made a shooing gesture in his direction before telling me: “Please, take a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

Francois turned to me as I was sitting and asked me: “Ye remember te way back ou’ lass?”

I nodded quickly, and he replied: “Good, ‘en if ye need to flee ye know te way ou’. I’m off te pu’ in some work. Hope te see ye aroun’!” With that, he all but darted out of the door, leaving me alone with Roland.

I turned back to face Roland after Francois left and tried to straighten my chest armor, but it was a futile effort. The front plate had been effectively rendered down to a series of parallel ribbons and it was more of a fashion statement at this point than a piece of protective gear. At least I was able to get the blood and gore crust and stains out. Mostly.

Normally I’d wait for the most senior person in the room to start the conversation, but I couldn’t help but ask the question that was burning in my mind.

“He… Francois said that he was the company’s counsel, is that true, or was he just yanking my chain about that the same way he was fibbing about me leaving the tower?”

Roland cocked an eyebrow and a grin teased at his lips before he replied: “No, he actually undersold his job here. He practically keeps the entire operation running on the business side, if you can believe it. He’s our counsel yes, but also keeps our books, draws our contracts, represents the company to the city and greases the palms that need managing to keep us on good terms with everyone in the city.”

“Huh.”

“You’ll find that not judging a scroll by the case it’s carried in is a common theme here. He’s exceptional at his job, and a hell of a fighter, too.”

“I’m not; I’m still sort of confused as to why I’m even here right now, if I’m being honest with you,” I admitted to Roland.

“Not what?”

“Not exceptional at anything. I… You seem like a busy person, I don’t feel like I belong in here with your company, I don’t want to waste your time.”

Roland leaned back in the leather chair he sat in, kicked his legs up on top of the edge of his desk and crossed one ankle over the other. He crossed his arms over his chest afterwards, pursed his lips and looked at me. I vaguely felt a tingle run over me, I expected that he had used an information-gathering skill of some sort. For me to feel it at all it must have been a powerful ability; my ability to perceive such things was complete garbage.

After a moment, he tutted and said: “Francois is one of the founding members of the company, has been here from the start. Would you doubt his judgement and suggest your own instead?”

“What, no. He seems like a good fellow, there’s not many who would buy someone like me nice drinks in exchange for my story in sincerity here. I figured he had other intentions, and well, I was sort of right in that, but then he tells me that you don’t recruit… while trying to recruit me,” I said, furrowing my brow.

“Ah, so you think this is about social class, then?”

This is a strange discussion. He’s being a little confrontational with me when I expected him to be trying to sweeten me up for a contract.

I thought of a few things to say, but none of them felt quite right, so I settled for a nod instead.

“We have all sorts in the company. We’re not large, with less than 20 members, but we’ve got whores, thieves and even a convicted murderer on our roster. So tell me, knowing that, do you think that I care about where you are coming from?”

Well. You got me there. Whores, thieves and murderers could be the name of my tenement house.

Roland took my silence for an answer itself and spoke first: “I have a number of questions, and I’m sure you do as well. Would you like to go first, or shall I?”

“No, please ask, maybe you’ll answer some of my questions in the process of asking,” I said.

“Sure. I only ask that you answer my questions truthfully. I will tell you right now: I have the ability to tell when I’m being lied to, and I find it insulting.”

I’m surprised he has one of those skills slotted as a company leader, but I guess if he’s the final say on whether or not someone gets in or gets rejected, it sort of makes sense. What class even is he? I never bothered to check.

[Consider]!

[Level 449 Human Steel Lancer]

I jerked my hand to cover my mouth when I coughed on my spit after seeing his class and level. I had to rap my fist on my chest a few times to get my coughing to finally stop. Roland smirked a little but didn’t comment on my spastic behavior.

F-fucking four hundred and fifty!? What the FUCK! That’s more than two hundred levels higher than the highest level person I’ve ever seen before today!! Yeah, I bet he’s got all kinds of insane skill evolutions!

“S-sorry, I’ve never met anyone at your level before and it took me by surprise,” I stammered out.

Roland chuckled and waved it aside, saying: “As you can see we’re not all that different than anyone else, just as long as you’re not looking too hard at the chairs we sit in.”

I blinked at him, not getting the joke.

“I weigh somewhere around a thousand pounds without any of my kit on, so most everyday furniture can’t hold me without breaking. It’s more or less the same for any serious fighter in the mid-levels of the tower.”

“But how, or well, I guess skills is the answer to that, but why?”

“See? You should give yourself more credit, you’ve figured out half of the equation already. Have you ever seen a level three or four hundred monster? I am going to assume that you haven’t, but I can tell you that they tend to be quite big, and more than a little bit mean.”

My brows creased as I parsed what he was saying, then it dawned on me.

“Oh, if you didn’t weigh so much you wouldn’t be able to cut them, would you?”

Roland snapped his fingers and then pointed his index finger at me in response. “Nailed it. But it’s not just hitting, it’s being able to get hit as well. You can’t very well fight something when you’re getting knocked through the air and flopping head over heels whenever it knocks into you.”

I nodded and digested this nugget of high-level wisdom. It made perfect sense, it was honestly basic, but that was half the problem. It was the sort of thing that people would learn and then take for granted when it became the new norm, and they wouldn’t talk about it. This is precisely the kind of information that I needed to figure out the sort of mess that I was in! The question was, could I trust Roland and his people with my secret? Or would they flip on me the moment they stood to profit from it?

Judging from the look and feel of where I was, they certainly didn’t feel like they were hurting for money, but money wasn’t everything. There was also this divine favor or whatever, politics, schemes and black market dirty dealing. Trading sapient flesh was outlawed and carried intense penalties, but you’d be a fool to think that it didn’t happen at all. Poor people of all sorts go inexplicably missing regularly. It was all too easy to put it down to someone lost to monsters in the tower.

My thoughts were interrupted when Roland asked me: “So tell me why you want to join the company. And keep in mind what I told you.”

Right, right. No lying.

I cleared my throat and fidgeted with my fingers for a long moment before I said anything. I’d go as close to fully truthful as I could. “I’m not a person with means or a name. I spent the past three years working at my horrible job and saving every copper I could to put together a basic set of equipment and pay for training both in and outside the tower. Combat, survival, how to navigate the tower, dungeon diving, that sort of thing.” I cast my eyes down to my lap and frowned, saying: “Things have been made so that being a solo adventurer is almost impossible if you don’t get handed gear or the money to get it, and that doesn’t even include the cost of training from anyone who even remotely knows what they’re talking about.”

“You’re absolutely right about that, Senwyn. It’s been setup so that the only way for working class people to become adventurers is to join companies who will then use you to extract wealth and fill their coffers off the blood you shed.”

I looked up to Roland and was surprised to see that he had a hard look on his face. He motioned for me to continue with my answer.

“I had the strangest night of my life last night, and I got both unbelievably lucky and absolutely fucked over at the same time. So now I’m having to start back over again, and to be totally honest with you, I don’t know how I feel about spending a few more years working somewhere that feels like it’s going to drive me mad.”

“What do you do, what is your trade?”

I blushed when I told him: “I’m an apprentice butcher, have been for three years now.”

He nodded, saying: “It’s a valuable skill, good to have for an adventurer, as I’m sure you know. Is that why you picked it? And you said you’ve been working at it for three years? How old are you? You barely look old enough to attend secondary school.”

Secondary school? Why would he say that? I’m obviously not a spoiled noble or merchant’s child.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Nineteen. And no, I became a butcher because it was the only job I could find that paid enough surplus coin that I’d be able to save up a few gold if I tried really hard to save.”

“I see. There’s no shame in seeking assistance to start your career, and I’m surprised that you didn’t join one of the better companies already. Explain to me how it was that you got lucky and fucked over last night.”

I told him about how I hired someone to help me fight for a reasonable daily rate and about how things were going well for us hunting scale wolves right up until the monster surge. Then I explained how my escort had ditched me and left me to die, and how I’d barely survived and lost my pack and weapons in the process. I kept things very vague when it came to fighting the monster that was more than twice my level. And how I was lucky to have made a bunch of skill and two class levels and survived the encounter. I gestured at my armor to indicate where I’d been ‘nearly’ disemboweled.

Roland pursed his lips, and his brows creased a bit when I finished. He said: “I know you’re mostly telling me the truth, but I can also tell that you’re hiding something pretty big, too. We’ll come back to that at bit later. We aren’t greedy people here, Senwyn. Everybody gets fed and has a roof over their head if they choose to use it, and not all do. We also provide gear and weapons as well as repairs and replacements, within reason. We’re not buying some fresh recruit we don’t know fifty platinum of gear, but it sounds you lost maybe two or three gold at most, plus the money you would have earned from your spoils. So let’s say I’m not concerned about any operating costs associated with bringing you on for now. What I want to know is why you want to adventure and what your plans for your life are.”

I let out a sigh at the last question and shrugged my shoulders, saying: “To be honest, I don’t have a grand plan or big goal, really. I wanted to become an adventurer because adventurers live well if they aren’t stupid about their money, and if they work hard in the tower, they don’t have to worry as much about other people shitting on them. People don’t even bother to try fucking around with most halfway decent adventurers.”

“You’re not wrong, and there’s worse reasons to be an adventurer. Is that all there is to it for you, though?”

“Up until last night, yeah. I told myself that I was going to be an adventurer so I could stand on my own two legs and not have to deal with other people pushing on me and so I could afford to eat a decent meal and sleep somewhere where there weren’t screaming and moaning women all night. I mean, not that I mind that, but you know, time and place and within reason and all that.” I blushed hard as I rambled. I partly wished that I wasn’t still a virgin, but at the same time, I didn’t want to deal with children, drama or getting assaulted because of cheating.

“What changed last night?”

I half-answered the question. He said we’d come back to it, after all. “I already had resolved to the path I was going to follow, but when I was laying there half-dead from the last fight, I realized that I didn’t have any regrets with doing what I was doing. I’ll fight like hell, but if my ultimate fate is dying while I’m trying to improve myself in the tower, I’m okay with that. Not that I want to die. I’m not stupid or suicidal.”

Roland gave me a sharp nod to what I’d said and thought quietly for a few moments. Then he said: “Last question before you ask yours. How do you feel about helping out someone else in the company if they need it?”

Oof, shit. Right in my weak spot.

I shifted in my seat and sighed, there was no sense beating around the bush with Roland. “I’ll be clear and up front with you. I came up watching my own back because nobody else would, and it’s really hard for me to trust people that way. Too many years of getting fucked over, tricked or swindled for me to be able to just put faith in someone else without getting to know them first. This is… probably the biggest venture I’ve taken in years, coming and being here.”

“I’m not asking you to blindly trust people. If it was someone you know would have your back in a fight, unlike the fellow you just hired, would you help them?”

I nodded. Sure, I didn’t have a problem helping people, I had a problem trusting people. Take that away and fine, no issues.

Roland leaned forwards and grabbed a stack of papers on his desk and flipped through them. After reviewing several he asked: “Actually, I lied, I do have one more question. What floor did you say you were on when that monster surge happened?”

“Ten.”

“Hmm. I think there might be an issue,” Roland said.

“Huh? What issue?”

He looked over his papers to gauge my reaction when he told me: “There was a monster surge recorded on ten at sundown like you said, but that wasn’t last night, that was three days ago.”

My mind raced at the implication. “Wait, wait. Wouldn’t that mean…”

I was genuinely shocked. I hadn’t passed out overnight, I was passed out for three days?! I mean, it would explain the hunger and thirst. It also explained why I smelled as bad as I did, also.

Shit! I had no idea!

“I… I really had no idea. I was so exhausted and wounded at the end of the fight that I passed out. I thought it was only overnight…”

Roland nodded his head and tossed the stack of papers back on top of his desk from where he’d picked them up. “That checks out. It’s unusual, but not unheard of when people have close brushes with death to go out like that and lose track of time. You were lucky that you didn’t wind up monster chow.”

If only you knew.

“Anyways, I’m an open book. I don’t know if you have a skill that lets you check the truth of my words or not, but I really have no reason to lie about anything. I might not answer your question if you’re asking very specific close details of our operation, like who supplies us with what goods and services, but I assume you’re not interested in that information in the first place. Hit me.”

Let’s go with the obvious questions first, I guess.

“Why me? I’m like the most nobody, nobody ever. I’m just a level ten [Fighter]. My trade skill is nearly double my class level, but even a level 19 [Butcher] isn’t anything worth mentioning.”

“It’s a two part answer. The first part is that we are only interested in people with a sort of niche mindset. Francois is extremely perceptive; you might even say that’s his specialty. It’s why he’s such an excellent counsel, also. He also has a good feel for people in general, again, important skills for his job. I don’t think you’re aware of it, but you can see it in how you compose and carry yourself. You’re like a dull blade, and you know it, and you want to grind the rough spots and hone the edge more than anything. That’s the most important thing that matters. Having a drive, a spark to enter the tower.”

That word again…

“What about the other part?” I asked.

“I expect that it has to do with what you’re not saying, and you’re probably not aware of it. We’ll wait to talk about that last, if you want?”

I was a little stunned, but I nodded in agreement.

Oh, is he saying that he can tell I’ve been touched, or whatever? Shit, I was hoping it wasn’t that obvious.

“What would be expected of me? Every company I’ve encountered is a racket that anyone I know can see through clear as day. But you, this…” I gestured around the room as if to indicate the company itself before continuing: “…It doesn’t make sense to me. What’s your angle? How are you profiting from this? It can’t be cheap to operate.”

Roland chuckled and agreed with me on that, saying: “Oh, it’s not cheap at all. But would you believe me if I told you that it was pocket change for me in the grand scheme of things?”

Oh. That also makes sense as to why he’d have some social skills like being able to sense lies.

“You’re a noble, aren’t you? Dressing down to play with the garb- lower class people? Is this just… entertainment for you?” I blurted out my questions rapid-fire, my emotions getting the better of me and making me act and talk before thinking.

Roland dropped his feet from the side of his desk with a thud, sat up in his fancy leather chair and leaned forward. He had a stony look on his face, I’d obviously shoved my foot in my mouth and touched his nerves, judging from his reaction.

He stared me in the eyes to an uncomfortable degree as he told me: “I am a former noble. I left my family and all of it’s holdings, taking nothing with me when I left but the clothing on my back. And unlike my family, I don’t look down on those who aren’t noble born. And no, this isn’t a game for me, it’s a business and organization that I take deathly seriously. Tower climbing is life or death, and anyone who would tell you otherwise is a fool.”

I stammered out an apology, but the gears in my head were turning as fast as they’d go while I spoke. There was a connection here that I was trying to make, but I was having a hard time getting the two things to meet. “S-sorry Roland. I- well, I sort of meant it as an insult aimed at nobility because of how they live and treat the people in the same city they live in. It’s, pardon, but it’s fucked how they live and behave.”

Roland seemed to accept my apology; I could see the tension drop from his shoulders as he leaned back into the backrest of his chair. He nodded, saying: “You’re right, it is. It’s a big part of the reason why I left it behind. Things could be better, but to change it is like asking a handful of bugs to move a mountain for you. I don’t blame you for your feelings, but now that you know, don’t ever group me with them again.”

I scratched the side of my cheek and muttered to myself: “We might only be ants, but you’d be surprised the sorts of things even ants can accomplish.”

“Well said.”

My brain tingled as it pitifully struggled to deliver what it was working on.

“Why 500?”

Roland chuckled at my question. “I can see why Francois is taken with you, you’re clever.”

I shook my head in response to that: “I’m really not. I’m barely educated.”

Roland ignored me and answered the question instead: “The other piece of the puzzle as to why I left my family. I was told I’d never amount to anything in life as a fourth-born son. The family is proud that it’s lineage traces back to a man who had conquered 500 on his own merit. I’m going to go to 500, then keep on climbing. It might be petty, but I really can’t fully express the level of spite I have for my father.”

“It’s not, petty, though. It’s real proof that you’re better than the people you chose to leave. I completely get it, and I understand why Francois told me that it wasn’t his tale to tell. I think if someone else had told me about it, it’d sound like a petty tantrum. But meeting you, it’s apparent that it isn’t.”

“That’s a good way of putting it, yes. Nobles like to play high-stakes games with people’s lives, and then they do often throw tantrums when things don’t go their way and lash out.” Roland admitted.

I was glad I’d taken the gamble and come. This entire thing made far more sense now as the pieces started to fall together in my mind.

“How are you able to afford all of this, if you left with nothing?”

“Well, I am not the only person funding it, some of the other high-level members also contribute to our treasury, although we don’t require anyone to do that, most do. But I’ll let you in on a big secret: The list of adventurers who will take writs and fill orders for decent high-end materials is very short. The crafter’s guilds will pay hundreds or even thousands of platinum for a custom order of 450 and up monster and boss parts and cores. And what they produce from those materials goes for even more, so they’ll scarf them up damn near any chance they can get. When you’re dealing in currency like platinum ingots, things like constructing a nice guild hall and outfitting adventurers in the more normal level ranges is completely trivial.”

I was blown away. I had absolutely no idea that there even was such a thing as platinum ingots as a form of currency, and once again, what Roland was telling me made perfect sense, but…

“Why don’t more people fill these orders? You’d think people would be all over them!” I asked.

“Well, it’s a compound issue. First, there isn’t exactly a bunch of free agents in the four hundreds. Most solos burn out, retire or die before passing two fifty. So that narrows the fields dramatically off the start. Then, the people who are at a higher level are almost all universally bound in contracts with their companies. And don’t get me wrong: it’s not like the companies are working level four hundred adventurers like dogs. No, they cater to them and let them live like private kings because even scraping the profits and making margin profits as a middleman between craftspeople and the people who gather the materials is serious coin,” Roland explained to me.

“I’m starting to get a better picture of things. If anything during this meeting, my mental picture of companies being giant leeches has grown."

Roland only laughed at that.

“I think this is my last question, and then we can talk about… that other thing. I’m not signing on to anything unless I know the rules and conditions in full.”

“Of course. We have a really simple set of rules. First, you don’t fight or kill other members of the company—this company, to be clear—under any circumstances. If you do some shady shit like that and fill a kill contract on another member’s head, I’ll kill you myself.”

I gulped and nodded. “That’s simple enough. Do people really do that in other companies?”

The company leader basically had to growl through a clenched jaw he told me: “They do.”

“What else?”

“I’d like to think that we’re a pretty generous bunch and we try to get along and help each other out. Don’t steal from the company, don’t steal from company members, and don’t take advantage of each other.”

I bobbed my head to that as well.

“Last of the big rules is that you don’t leak, either intentionally or through negligence.”

“I am not sure I understand that, can you explain?”

Roland rubbed his face and sighed before saying: “This is the most common issue and I’m honestly so incredibly tired of dealing with it. I’m talking about spying and selling company business and secrets out. If we work like hell to find a hidden dungeon and take other company members in to reap the rewards, don’t then turn around and stack your account with coins selling the location out to one of the other companies, the explorer’s guild, hell, even the city government—which happened, by the way—or you’re done. Honestly, I used to try and remedy these things, but now I just reclaim all company property and kick them out of the guild.”

Oh yeah. Fucking rats are the worst. And just like real rats, they’re fucking everywhere, chittering away in the walls and ceilings for pieces of cheese. Ugh.

“What did you mean about negligence, though?” I wanted to make sure I understood what he was saying when he mentioned that.

“It’s less of an issue, but to put it bluntly, don’t do dumb shit like talk about company business in the tavern or out in public. Our building is completely warded for a reason, and they’re not cheap to maintain. I want to wring someone’s throat when I find out they got drunk and started blabbing about things we don’t discuss with others. And do your best to be aware of tails and shadows. Those are less of a problem with the work we do, but when things do occasionally get ugly, you have to be vigilant, if not for your own sake, but the sake of the other members.”

“Oh, you’re talking about company wars?”

“With the tails and shadows? Mostly then, yes, but also if someone has a lot of heat on them. It’s just a good common sense habit to get in to be aware of your surroundings regardless of if you are in the wilds or in the city. But I expect I don’t have to explain that to you, or worry about spying, either.”

You’re not wrong. Rat poison is one of the leading causes of death in the poor quarter.

“Rats get stomped on, always. Sometimes they get really fat before they get squished, but there’s always someone with a big mallet just waiting for the chance. And yeah, back home you watch your back or might find things getting stuck into it. I’m pretty used to it,” I admitted with a sigh.

I hated that it was the way that it was, and that I was the way I was because of it, but there really were just petty cutthroats and thieves out there who would knock you over the skull with lead pellets or just straight up stab you for what you had in your pockets. One of the reasons I started to get sweaty whenever I was carrying more than two silver on me at a time. Best way not to get taken like that is if everyone knows you’re flat on your ass broke. Nobody wants their time to waste when working.

“Anything else when it comes to rules?” I asked.

“Just the super common sense stuff and the stuff that’s not even possible, like being a member of multiple companies.” Roland replied.

“Do you kick people out if they are hot, you know, if there are people who are wanting to kill them?” The dragon’s message was stuck in my head, telling me to beware of the others who would want to kill me. I expected that the company wouldn’t want to deal with that sort of heat.

“I had a hunch this was going to come up. I’ll make it simple. We do care about certain kinds of troublemaking—the stupid kind—but generally no, we don’t care. We spend most of our time in the tower grinding away because that’s what we’re all about. If you’re out in Foundation doing dumb stuff then you’re probably not going to be kept around in the first place. But I’ll go ahead and give some examples. Don’t go attacking city guards, nobles, guilds and other people who have good connections or disposable money to make life hell for everyone in the company. On the same token, don’t go and roll over a trading hub in the tower or attack a supply train. It’s not worth the time and effort, and we can make better money as a group by doing the legal business we tend to stick to in the first place.”

He looked over at me and asked: “Do you have a reason to believe that people might come after you, and do you know what sorts of people they are? We can talk about your big issue now because I am guessing it’s related, but I will tell you right now, I won’t put myself and the rest of my people in danger unless I know what we’re dealing with and what to expect.”

I really didn’t want to talk about this, but I didn’t think Roland was one of the people I had to be afraid of. At this point, I actually did want to join the Rogue’s Free Trading Company, but I’d understand it if they turned me down because of the shit I was in.

“Is it uhm… safe to talk in here?” I asked and hunched my shoulders and looked around the room warily.

“This is one of the most warded rooms in the building, yes, anything you say here isn’t getting heard by anyone other than the two of us.”

I felt the need to hide to address this issue, and even though it was childish, I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. A bad habit I’d never really broken free from stemming back to my days in the orphanage. He had bigger things to judge me on than this, for what I was about to tell him.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and Roland scooted his chair forwards and sat at his desk properly, resting his elbows on his desk and folding his hands in front of him.

Now or never, I suppose.

“I had a supernatural encounter in the tower after I fought that Denmother, and I… changed in ways I don’t understand. And I was told things I don’t understand, but the gist of it was that I was given a gift, but people would come and try and kill me because of it. Or for it, I’m not entirely clear. I... I... I feel like you’re going to think I’ve lost my mind when I tell you.” I wasn’t cold, but I felt cold chills run down my spine just thinking about the strange encounter I’d had… face to face with a god.

Roland didn’t look surprised so far, and he prompted me for more information, saying: “What sort of supernatural encounter?”

I looked down at my kneecaps when I said: “I met a god.”

“No, I believe you when you say you did. Who was it?” Roland asked me in a level tone. I was surprised he was taking me at face value, but it was only going to get stranger from here out.

“He was a magnificent dragon, and so huge, I couldn’t believe the sheer scale of his size. I don’t feel like I would be exaggerating to say that he could wipe Foundation out entirely without using any powers. He could just stomp around and swing his tail and an entire quarter would be totally destroyed, just like that. He had so much power, I thought I was hallucinating or having some kind of vision as I was dying.”

“Dying?”

“Yeah, eh, I never had a potion, the most I could afford was an herbal remedy, which I used after the first fight when my leg was torn up. The Denmother totally ripped my front half to shreds.” My voice caught in my throat remembering how it felt, and how I looked. “I- my guts were all over and I was bleeding everywhere. I knew I was dead, for sure.”

“Solo, exhausted from two back to back major fights for you, and trapped under a dead monster with a bad gut wound? Yeah, you were absolutely dead. Most companies don’t allow their members to enter floors with active monster surges, and for good reason. So this god saved your life?”

“Sort of? He gave me the choice to save myself by taking a deal or contract with him, or to refuse and die.”

“Mm. Rough terms, but that sounds about right from what I know. Gods can be real bastards, at least, from what I’ve been told. I don’t pray myself. So since you’re here right now, you took the deal, what is it that you’re expected to do, and what do you gain from it?”

I took a shuddering breath and continued: “The terms are pretty simple. I serve him, for forever. He will ask me to do what he described as errands, and if I do them well, he’ll reward me.”

“Hmm.” Roland drummed his fingers on the top of his desk while he hummed. “What did you ask for? What do you get?”

I blushed and a few stray tears from my eyes. My emotions were a total mess right now. I was angry, confused and hurt by what had happened, but there was also this strange sense of hope I took from it, and an undeniable energy underlying everything. “I asked for power, and he asked why I wanted it, so I told him pretty much the same thing I told you as to why I wanted to join. I wanted the power to live my life on my own terms, and not be at the whim and mercy of others.”

I went to take another breath, coughed, and then broke down into a full-on sob. I buried my face in my knees to hide my shame. I tried to stop crying like a baby, but I’d been bottling this up and hoping that I’d be able to deal with it in private, and it chose to come out now of all times. Still sobbing, I said: “H-he gave me his b-b-blood and turned me into some kind of monster, and then I p-passed out from the pain when he was putting it in.”

Roland’s chair scratched on the floor and a moment later I felt a huge hand on my shoulder.

I’m so childish, fuck! But I don’t care right now, I just want someone to hold me.

I got to my feet, threw my arms around his waist and blubbered into the front of his shirt. He hugged me with one arm around my shoulders and used his other hand to finger-comb my hair. I felt angry at myself for acting like this, ashamed that I wanted to be held and mortified at covering such an important person in my tears, snot and drool.

Roland just held me like that and spoke softly to me, saying generally comforting things such as: “There, there, deep breaths, and let it all out.” I needed it so badly right then and there, too, because I felt like I just wanted to curl up and die without having anyone to shoulder my grief with. Eventually I cried myself out and wiped my face off on my own clothing. I stammered a few apologies and Roland just waved them away.

A slightly less upsetting idea occurred to me, so I asked him: “You have younger sisters, don’t you?”

I wasn’t able to see his expression since I was still trying to scrub the tears from my eyes to clear my vision, but he laughed, loudly and said: “Yes, I do. And I miss two of them dearly.”

“Two of them? How many do you have?”

He sighed and I heard the resignation in his voice: “Three older brothers, and seven sisters. Two older, and five younger.”

I mumbled: “Oh gods, your poor mother.”

He replied with a snort and explained: “That’s the life for elder noble girls. To be married off to someone they might have met a grand total of two or three times, and then tasked with birthing as many children as possible, as fast as possible. Eleven children isn’t even uncommon for many noble families. Everyone is power-crazy and obsessed with ensuring the survival of their lineage first and foremost. The rest of the kids are just game pieces to get more money and power with.”

I coughed and cleared my throat a few times before offering Roland a puffy-faced smile as thanks for putting up with me. Roland had taken his seat again while I was trying to clean myself up, and he sat forwards and straightened himself up.

“Senwyn, there’s no reason at all that your status as a blessed one should bar you from joining us, and I’d be happy to offer you a spot in the Free Rogue’s Trading Company, so we can get you set up and training right away. If you accept, you would be our lowest-ranking member by… a hundred levels, but I won’t tolerate anyone giving you trouble because of it. That is, if you want to accept.”

“But what about the people who are going to want to come and kill me because I’m blessed? What happens then? It seems like it’s not something I can really keep secret, if I understand correctly.”

“Let them come, they’ll face us together. Blessed ones are rare enough that we don’t have to really worry about having another in the guild, and we don’t have one already, so there’s zero problems there. From what I know, those sorts of fights tend to be done out of sight and out of the public eye, since it’s generally in the interest of most not to broadcast their status to the entire city. Two of the ones that I’ve met in the past had bodyguards they kept around at all times, but it was more to keep people begging them for favors in check than anything.” He paused for a moment, then added: “I’m not sure how many we have in the city here, but I do know that Foundation is a bit of a hot spot for the Blessed. I would doubt that it’s more than a few dozen, at the most.”

I coughed, laughed, then smiled at Roland. I was elated that he’d take me even with all the drama. I extended my hand after thoroughly wiping it off on my shirt sleeves to accept his offer, and we promptly shook on it. I had some official paperwork to do, but I had just joined a company.