It was a breezy early morning, and Rennia stood ice-cold in the bustling streets of Ivarcant, just outside the Adventurer's Guild. She looked up at the imposing building, dreading the climb up all those stairs. Dontellin waved at her as he took his leave with the cart. She waved back to the driver. He had been much calmer this morning and less flirty, which was a relief.
But her mind remained an addled mess, caught somewhere between a foggy haze and hedonistic clarity. She felt satisfaction, but only halfway there. Her body was sensitive, and she was tingling all over, her pants shifting uncomfortably against her skin. Moreover, she was nervous and overstimulated. Deep within her gut, she could feel the mana swirling, uncontrolled and wild. Ishmere may have said that it would coalesce on its own, but it felt like an uncontrollable sea, and she didn't know what to do with it.
She asked herself these questions as she stepped inside the guild: Adventuring again, so soon? Or was it too late? Why now? Why this? Why today? Why did she walk this path again? There were other things she could do. The very last time, this path had brought her nothing but misery. But that was just it, her misery. It was just her and the immortal, with no divine reason given to her as to why she must carry a sword between her legs. No grand quest, no guidance, just the strange feeling that she was being moved around like a piece in a game of chess.
She cut away the thoughts.
Within the guild, the affectionate and voluptuous Mara had been waiting once again, greeting her casually with a hug.
"Rennia, I almost thought you wouldn't show." Rennia's eyes went wide—she was way too happy to see her. Perhaps broad-built Mara was just that kind of person, the kind who served you milk and cookies and overfed you afterwards. She was warming and sexy. Rennia could get used to her touch.
Was that weird?
Rennia's face flinched as she was smothered by Mara's chest, caught somewhere between attraction and intimidation. By the looks of it, it appeared Mara had been reading her profile again, watching her nervousness and twitchy habits, noting the marks she carried.
Best to hurry this session along then.
Rennia was a few minutes late, thanks to the "intermittent lessons" she'd had. She hoped they would understand. "I'm really sorry for being late. I had a small hold-up on the road—I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience. Also, my roommate was a bit of a problem this morning. I had to settle something."
Mara waved her hand, brushing it off with a smirk. "No need to explain. We're all busy, and it looks like you've been quite busy yourself. Moving from place to place has to cause serious issues. If you ever need some homely advice or direction, I'd be happy to help a younger person such as yourself. Regardless—" She winked at her. Rennia didn't know what that meant, but winking was a no-no to her: a bad signal, an invitation.
"It's good you came when you did, and you're actually early for the record. The appointment has been moved a little earlier—the appraiser requested it, though it's no small effort."
"Wait, is the guild spending extra money to keep an appraiser close? If I had known, I'd—"
Mara flicked her on the cheek. "Don't be silly, Rennia. It's their job to assess all new recruits."
Mara beckoned her to follow, and she did. As they walked through the winding halls, the interior awakened something claustrophobic in Rennia. She wasn't used to walking through so many hallways. What kind of person designed that?
Mara came to a stop in the hallway and pointed something out. Rennia didn't know what she needed to see. Mara grabbed Rennia by her shoulders, facing her directly, her breasts slightly above the cleavage line of the wooden armor she was wearing. Rennia averted her eyes.
"Listen very carefully to me. Since this is not your first run, but I don't know how they do it in Osterria, but your stat sheet, don't let anyone see it." Don't let anyone use it against you, no matter what, if you can avoid it. The paper doubles as guild-administered documentation. If you lose it, you lose a lot of privileges, as it will be used to reevaluate you, I should mention—"
Rennia had never heard of such a concept before. Back home, the guild maintained all external information within the archive itself. Carrying or storing crucial information around with her seemed kind of dangerous.
"A piece of guild paper?"
"Yes, it's magically imbued. But some things always get flagged—side quests, demonic stuff, necromancy, things that can get you hunted, conscripted, or even worshipped."
Rennia raised her brow. Now where would she find someone loony enough to "worship" her? Probably in the streets around the corner if she was honest.
"I'm sorry, I'm just throwing information onto you, crash course business," she qualified.
"No, it's fine, I just struggle to comprehend why it's that dangerous. Surely, people don't care about other people's levels and stats that much?"
"You'd be surprised—some time ago there was a woman with a unique class. Golden, possibly unique to her, something elegant and strange. I saw her healing strays on the street; even the touch of her skin could heal wounds. The temple took an immediate interest in her. I've rarely seen that woman since. The temple took her in. The gods know where she is now. They won't tell me. Weird case, but such things happen."
There was a warning tone in her voice, because the message was clear: only disclose what you need to, don't disclose more than you should, keep your documentation private, and stay alert.
"And I reckon a pathfinder such as yourself is interesting enough that some people will raise a brow, especially if you get some strange skill."
Rennia did have a [sixth sense], though that just terrified her a bit. Those guards were frightened of Ishmere, if not because of who she was then because of what was between her legs. Her legs too.
Rennia nodded to Mara and hopped along behind her. The approaching room was small and dark, lit by a few lanterns and lamps. A young man had composed himself at a desk, then stood and moved to sit at the edge of the room. He greeted her, and she greeted back, his voice calm, faint, with a hint of a smirk. "Miss Rennia of Perillion, I presume."
Rennia nodded, attempting to avoid eye contact. "Yes."
He cleared his throat and gestured to the chair. "Well, without further ado, I have places to be, as I bet you do. If you will, please take a seat."
Rennia walked closer reluctantly and sat down. He stared at her once again, and she felt frightened.
"Before we begin, anything to disclose voluntarily? Any strange effects?"
Rennia hesitated, a bit flustered, not knowing who she could trust or whether to hold back. "I have a weird subclass, but I'd rather not say too much about it."
He gave a small nod and set up his work: the page with a pen. "Please come here, then." She came closer, and he pulled something out of his bag: a small tablet, crystalline in design. "Please put your hands here."
She did so, placing her hands where he indicated. He "wrote" down several glyphs, and out of nowhere, all Rennia could see was a bunch of numbers and weird stats that were boosted. Things weren't adding up, but not yet. She saw it: her class listed as "Pathfinder, Rare," and then a third line that made her stomach drop. Subclass: Maiden of Eros.
The information reprinted itself in the eye of her mind.
Rennia Perillion Class: [Pathfinder Lv. 2]
Subclass: [Maiden of Eros Lv. 3]
Subclass Skills: [Sexual Discipline (Passive) Lv. 4]
[Restorative Union Lv. 1]
Skills: [Manasense]
[Cooking Lv. 3]
[Sixth Thread Lv. 3]
Enhancements: [Endurance +2] [Charisma +2 (Imprint)]
The appraiser froze when he saw that, visibly shaken. He took a step backwards and read it aloud without thinking. "Maiden of Eros? Sexual Discipline? And your main class is level two?" The room went quiet, and Rennia panicked. Mara gasped and walked out, shutting the door. Rennia heard her running down the hallway, and then she couldn't sit still. Because what now? Now she was in trouble.
Rennia jumped the appraiser, holding her hands over his mouth. He frowned and stared at her suspiciously. He started nibbling at her hands when he couldn't pull her off. "Get off of me, just what kind of person are you?"
Rennia bowed her head. She feared such an outcome. Ishmere said the guild wouldn't care, but Mara's reaction proved otherwise. Well what the hell does she do now?
The door bolted open again, and Mara stood at the door. "Oh no, dearie, this is going to be a major problem."
"What do you mean, a problem? I gave you full disclosure. What's going on? Yes, my class is a little weird, so what?" Rennia's temper was urgent, reacting to the fear, unstable and unsure. She was laid bare again, and another woman appeared, much shorter than Mara but powerful, scarred, with a long scar down her face. She stared at Rennia with malevolent intent, then spoke in a low voice.
"You—do you mind coming with us, please? Just for a moment. And you," she turned to the appraiser, "please leave. Don't tell anyone what you've seen or heard here today. And I'll forget about it."
The appraiser threw up his hands and swore. "This is the third freak case this month. Why don't you call me in for normal work, would you."
"I'm sorry, Semptis. Strange things are happening around the borderlands, and I don't need you running your mouth whatever."
He stormed out the door, muttering very loudly. "Sexual discipline, never in my life." Rennia blushed, turned to face the wall, not willing to face them. "I—I didn't do anything wrong. I just came to register my stats."
"Yes, but there's a lot you're not explaining to the guild, Rennia. Remember, you're not a citizen, and whoever you moved in with clearly didn't explain enough about our rules and regulations. Your subclass is a concerning one, one we've rarely seen. We'd like to speak about it."
She hesitated turning around. The scar-faced woman stepped forward, quietly watching and smoking a pipe in her hand.
"If you'll come with me, Miss Rennia, for your good, safety and wellbeing." Rennia nodded reluctantly, scared and overwhelmed. Mara took her hand with small comfort. "Don't worry, we'll only have a talk."
That was reassuring. How did she know she wasn't going to be gagged and shipped off?
"Go where?"
"To my office," the scar-faced lady said.
Rennia feared the worst. She knew she should've played it smart.