"A vampiric ritual?"

"I'm no archmage, but there were two noble women standing in a ritual circle, and when they cut their wrists the blood floated upwards, so it's safe to assume whatever they were doing falls under legislation."

Trader nodded. "Which house was it?"

"Pendant. But I'm not sure how it's relevant to you healing me." Cynthia shifted on her bed.

"It would be good to know who's after you." The healer explained. "House Pendant… we did work for them, didn't we?" She turned to Karrel.

"Well, every house commissions me from time to time, but we made the Carapace for them."

"Oh, right." Trader remembered. "That werewolf fellow that tried to get into my pants."

"You tell me there's someone you didn't sleep with?" Karrel mocked lightheartedly.

"Please, keep jokes for when she's not in danger of dying." She rebuffed, uncharacteristically serious.

"A werewolf… the person I tried to kill was a werewolf. The fae tried to kill, I mean." Cynthia corrected herself.

"So they're alive?" Trader asked, and Cynthia nodded. "Good, that's another reason for them to leave it outside of the law. Now, let's focus on you."

Trader cast a diagnostic spell.

"The mercury is all over in your bloodstream… and tissue that absorbs it is weakened. Ooh, I see. Your cells now damage themselves by respiration."

"How does that even work?" Cynthia asked, wincing in pain suddenly.

"So, normally, you breathe in air, oxygen from it goes into your blood, which travels through your body. Your cells then use the oxygen to produce energy. Problem is, oxygen also reacts with almost anything organic, so your body has to counteract that with selenium-based enzymes so you don't damage yourself with the air you breathe. That process is interrupted by mercury."

"I did not understand most of that. Forget I asked." The elvish patient admitted.

Trader sighed.

"To oversimplify, you are going to slowly burn from inside out. There is no spell that's taught that drains mercury from your body, aside from all-purpose anti-poison spells that are too weak to fix your state. Fortunately, natural chemistry is my specialty. Morgan!"

The goblin rushed in. "Yes?"

"Go buy fish. Two full buckets."

"Right away!" They ran out with a determined expression. The request seemed odd, but they knew better than to doubt their teacher.

"Karrel, please look around to see if house Pendant sent someone to finish the job. If so, use them as target practice. I'm going to perform delicate surgery now, so no one gets in, alright?"

Though she said "please", her tone was making clear there was no arguing with her. Karrel nodded, and loaded his gun.

The symbiote looked her patient in the eyes.

"I'm going to put you to sleep, so your body processes slow down, and I can remove the mercury from your blood. Relax, now."

Trader's spell disrupted the elf's nervous system and was technically considered a combat spell, but slightly altered it did no permanent damage to Cynthia. Once she closed her eyes, the healer got to work.

Trader cut open Cynthia's wrist and used blood magic to draw out just a few drops, which then floated into her mouth.

"Type A minus… and she's not getting enough sun." She thought out loud.

The operation was not overly difficult: Trader drew out all of Cynthia's blood, replacing it with conjured substitute, and pulled the mercury and any other toxic substances out of it, before pouring it back into the elf's body. She didn't even have to anesthetize her, but it was better the woman didn't know Trader casually used blood magic. Especially given why she was poisoned in the first place.

It would still be some time before the patient woke up. In the meantime, Morgan returned with two buckets full of fresh fish.

Trader grabbed one, cut it open, pulled out its liver and swallowed it whole.

"We're in luck, the soil is perfect here."

Morgan stepped up, eager to learn.

Trader's hands unraveled into dozens of tentacles that grabbed for the buckets.

"The element I was looking for is selenium." She explained, absorbing fish after fish into her body as she talked. "It's a part of the enzyme that counteracts oxidation of the organism. Fortunately, the river soil contains a lot of it, so it gets into the plants, and then into the fish. I'm using my body to separate it out of the tissues. You could do the same with alchemical acids, but we don't have time for that, and it's less wasteful with my method besides."

After a few minutes, the fish were drained of the element and set aside.

"I've also turned the livers into fish oil. Together, the two should be enough to counteract the mess that mercury made and help her regain strength. " She grabbed a flask, and poured a viscous, yellow liquid into it from her tentacles.

The whole process took about fifteen minutes.

"Your body control is unfair." Morgan complained.

"Every species has their own gift. There's things you can do that I'll never be able to pull off."

"Like what?"

"You can run almost two times faster than your muscle mass should allow, and you are almost as flexible as me while still having bones. And I've felt your senses, you could spot an ambush from half the city away."

"I guess…" they replied, still unsure. Then they raised their eyes back to Trader. "She's awake."

"See? There's enhanced senses, and then there's you."

Trader grabbed the flask and went back to the side room.

"How are you feeling, Cynthia?"

"Better, I think. Though now my skin's itching everywhere." She scratched her arm.

"One of the symptoms, it will fade in time. Here, drink two spoons of this every morning." The healer handed the flask to the elf. "This would be the moment I let you go, but considering the circumstances, you should stay here for a while. Now that your life isn't in immediate danger, we can discuss payment."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Cynthia looked away nervously, but Trader didn't react to that.

"My rate is two gold per hour, you stayed here two hours, plus the medication and protection… that's gonna be fifteen gold coins."

Cynthia suddenly jumped off of the bed and ran towards the nearby window. She was stopped by a bunch of tendrils coiling around her shoulders and neck.

"First of all, rule two. I told you to stay. Second of all, rule three. You will pay, and if you don't have the money, we can figure something out. But I don't do handouts. Sit down, please."

When Cynthia calmed down, The parasite released her, and she sat on the bed.

"I can't pay. If I had money, I wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. Fifteen gold is not the kind of money you can 《work out.》You're gonna take me to the guards, aren't you?" The elf stared wide-eyed into the floor. She was trembling.

"Calm down, I'm not taking you anywhere." The healer assured her. "Hey, that's a fancy dagger you got there. The enchantment is not exactly to my tastes, but I know a guy who can fix that. Would you be willing to part with it for, say, ten gold pieces?"

The elvish woman looked at the symbiote incredulously. She looked at the table next to her bed. The dagger was laying there, her blood still staining the blade.

Her shaking hand reached for the blade, and she handed Trader the weapon.

"I'm still five gold short." She pointed out. She was less worried than before, however.

"Well, it just so happens that I'd love to hire you! I'll pay you fifty silver per day, and you can pay off your debt at your own pace. I won't charge interest." Trader sat next to Cynthia.

"That's half of what you charge per hour."

"Yes, but I am a licensed healer that saved your life. Besides, I have a feeling it's still more than any job that you've ever worked."

Cynthia lowered her head again.

Trader's warehouse was in the poorer part of the town. She had time to see the condition people living here were in. A single gold coin was enough to survive for a month here. For a certain definition of survival, at least. The pay Trader offered was good, and they both knew it.

"What do you want me to do?" Cynthia asked after a while of silence.

"What are your skills? Breaking and entering, I assume, given your story, but what else?"

"Well… I was cooking for a tavern for a week, but they kicked me out. Then I worked on Blue Street."

Blue Street was where most of Tiamarr City's brothels were located. And Cynthia didn't have the physique to work as a bouncer.

The elf continued. "I snapped at one asshole too many, got kicked out of there, too. Bit his dick off." She smirked despite herself.

The symbiote didn't show it, but inside, there was a fury boiling. She considered sex work briefly as an additional income source, but one visit to Blue Street was enough to learn that the prostitutes didn't have what she would call a safe workplace environment.

To her surprise, the Archivist spoke unprompted for the first time in a week.

[This situation is similar to your previous life experience. You intrinsically care about sex workers.]

[Of course I do. When two people come together to share intimacy, regardless of feelings… it's beautiful. It should be beautiful, and safe, and pleasant for all involved. It doesn't matter if you're getting paid. It's vile to take that beauty and turn it into abuse. It's vile to make someone hate their body for being beautiful!]

[This compassion towards those usually cast aside by society is one of the reasons the mistress chose you. I understand you harbour mixed feelings towards her, but I believe in time you can, if not appreciate, understand what she did when she chose you.]

[We'll talk later, Archie.] She forcibly shut the thought form out.

Then she realized she had been hugging Cynthia for a while now. She let her go slowly.

"Listen. I have my own history with brothels. But I believe this kind of work can and should be safe and fulfilling. It is one option for your employment."

"I'm not going back there."

"No, you won't." Trader sighed. She had to be really careful how she said her next words. "Have you been with a woman before?"

Cynthia looked her in the eyes with a mixture of confusion, discomfort, and just a hint of curiosity.

"I can't stress enough that I'm not forcing you to accept. There's other work to be done here, and I will have no ill will if you refuse. That being said, I'd like to be your client. I hope I've made it clear that you are safe here, and no harm will come to you as long as you work for me, in any capacity. Now, it's getting late. You should rest. We can talk about your tasks tomorrow."

With that, Trader stood up and made her way to the athanor and began working again. After a while, Karrel came back inside.

"I didn't spot anyone, though that doesn't say much. I'm not exactly trained in this sort of thing."

The symbiote didn't look up from her work. "Thanks. You can go home."

"What's wrong?" He asked. She didn't look upset, exactly, just… off.

When she didn't reply, the gunsmith frowned and made his way to the side room.

There, he found the elvish woman sitting on her bed, looking up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"What… happened?" Karrel asked.

"Miss Fleshforger offered me work because I couldn't pay for her services. One of the options included being her personal whore."

He laughed humourlessly.

"Trader is odd, but I won't believe she phrased it like that."

"She didn't. But she did offer money for sex."

Karrel sat down on the bed in front of her.

"I met Trader… about two months ago. I lost contact with my fiance a few weeks earlier, and without Trader, I would have probably killed myself."

"So you're saying it's worth it 'cause she's good in bed?"

He chuckled, this time truly. "She did offer, but I declined. She's just a friend. A good one. She motivated me. Suggested a crazy plan. I won't go into specifics, but it was so stupid it couldn't have worked."

He shifted in his seat slightly.

"The whole thing is not finished yet, but I can already talk with my love again. Her mom doesn't want us to get married, but we will. What I'm trying to tell you is that she's a good person. Yes, every deal you strike with her will be unfair. But it'll be unfair in your favor. And if you don't want to go to bed with her, she really won't push you. I mean, look at her. She doesn't need to pay to get laid, and it's not a power thing that she wants to pay you. She just... doesn't operate the same way most people do."

"Alright, stop, you sound like you're trying to sell me something." Cynthia groaned. "Honestly, this whole situation feels like you guys are trying to get me into a fucking cult. I know, 'cause my friend's been in one. Except… it's not nice enough to be a cult."

"Is that an insult?"

She ignored him. "That cult offered her everything under the light of Rydva and more. Fleshforger… Trader... offers me a raise. On one hand, it feels like it's too good to be true, on the other, I feel like there is no catch. There's no reason for her to do this, but there's also no reason why she wouldn't. What the hell is going on with her?"

The smith smiled. "You get used to it. Partially, at least. Well, it's getting late, I gotta go eat something. Given you'll be working here one way or another, I'll see you around."

He stood up and strolled out.

----------------------------------------

A few hours later, the night fell and the alchemist parasite left the athanor to its work. Tonight Trader sent Morgan to their home. While they usually slept in the warehouse, bonded with their master, she didn't want to reveal her nature to Cynthia. While it was doubtful there was still a point to keeping it a secret, her paranoia insisted.

She turned off the lights and threw herself on her bed.

Before she could drift off, Cynthia walked up to her and spoke.

"How much?"

"Huh?" Trader inquired eloquently.

"How much for the night?"

"It's part of employment, don't worry."

The elf groaned, exasperated.

"No, you idiot, how much do you pay for the night of fucking?"

Trader finally looked up at her.

"Uh… how much do you usually charge?"

"Well, the Johns paid half a gold per night, but I actually kept, like, a tenth of that."

"That's such bullshit!" Trader exclaimed, offended on Cynthia's behalf. "Three gold."

Cynthia whistled. "I'm officially the most expensive whore in the city."

"Don't use that word. There's so many other words. Escort. Prostitute. Sex worker."

The elf scoffed.

"It doesn't matter what you call a whore, they are still a whore."

"It's the difference between getting paid for having sex and getting paid for getting raped." Trader stated.

Cynthia didn't reply for a moment.

"Alright, show me, then. Make an escort out of this whore."

She took off her green robe and laid down beside Trader.