Rennia slouched in the stiff wooden chair, staring at groups of bustling adventurers moving in and out of the guild lobby. She still hadn't found a suitable group or an individual she'd partner up with for the delve. Ishmere had made it clear that she was not going to partake in such activities and that she had "grown-up stuff" to do—whatever that meant.
She resisted the urge to put her hand in front of her nose. The entire place smelled chemically volatile in the sense that it was too clean. Add dirty and grimy delvers coming in, and your sensory perception got fucked up. Bogs and sewers.
She was currently waiting for Mara, who was supposedly checking off stuff for her "trial run" in the dungeon. But really, she was stalling, and Rennia knew she was probably conspiring with the head of the establishment—the strange, ill-mannered Corina who seemed to have Mara by the edge of her throat.
She thought about how she was going to approach this dungeon. Her swordplay had always been a natural thing she picked up: point the pointy thing and stab the fucker with the ends. But when it came to dueling, it was complex. She was an okay monster hunter, but not a great swordsman—meaning she wasn't that good at swordsmanship.
Quickening was going to do her wonders, but being a spellblade was also not something she saw herself doing. Flashy spellwork and flashy dances weren't her thing, but the gold, the mud trudging, the beasts—she saw that as something she liked to experience.
THUMP!
A slim hand slammed a satchel across the table in front of Rennia. She jumped instinctively, looked up startled, and then saw a familiar hooded stranger standing in front of her. Not much older than herself, her eyes were veiled just barely by her jet-black hair, dark eyeshadow, and dark lips. The very same girl who had stared at her when they had arrived in the city. She didn't look much older, but she was "sexier" than Rennia hoped to be, except all her goods were hidden by her dark and clothed robes.
"How'd a nobody get an invitation to one of the city's most powerful people's offices? A bit strange, don't you think? I've seen how much attention that red-haired skald has given you. Just what is your deal?" No hesitation, just a greeting with pure and sleek venom. Rennia looked up.
She'd lie if she said she wasn't offended, but above that, the gall of this stranger who hid herself in cloaks and sorcery—the arrogance, and not even the courage to show her face properly.
"Excuse me. I don't know you, and this table is occupied. Has someone told you that it is ill-mannered to stare at strangers while they're on business?"
The strange girl didn't back away; she pressed forward. "I see no business conducted here. Look at you, just sitting here instead of making yourself useful. Now answer the question: who are you sleeping with that you got personal attention from the guildmaster herself? Answer me. I demand it, as a noble lady."
Ah. That explained it. Inherited entitlement.
"I'm not sleeping with anyone—and even if I was, I'd prefer if you'd just leave me alone. I'm waiting for my guild trial."
The girl sat down next to her and pressed her face against Rennia. There was a hint of jealousy in her eyes. They were pretty violet eyes, but Rennia wouldn't tolerate rudeness. "So... we're in the same position, and yet you, of non-notable standing, got attention from Lady Corina. I find this beyond offensive. I've been here for a week, and yet no one wants to partner with me. This guild and its stupid regulations."
"Maybe if you were a little nicer?"
Rennia pushed her away slightly, but the idiot girl clung to her arm. "How dare you push me! I'll have you know where I come from, they cuff peasant hands like yours for touching people like me. You ought to work in my fields or my garden."
"The actual fucking nerve coming from you, and yet you touched me first, sat down without invitation. Maybe your highlord family hadn't taught you manners, in which case I just might."
There was hesitation in the dark-haired girl's eyes, and she scooted away, sitting across from her instead. Not leaving, like she should have.
Rennia sighed.
The hooded girl pulled a fat pouch from a satchel and set it on the table. "Tell me whom you slept with at once, and I'll make it worth your while."
Was this moron suggesting she would sleep with this hypothetical person too, just to see the grumpy bitch upstairs? So she wouldn't have to do the trial. That was ludicrous. And yet, who'd blame her for taking advantage of her? Just how much gold was in there? She eyed the gold but killed the thought—the trouble that came with it wasn't worth it. Not anymore.
Rennia pushed the gold pouch away and shook her head. "Why don't you make yourself useful instead, Ms...?"
"It's Maeve, and I refuse to let a commoner like you know the name of my house. Now, tell me how you were allowed inside of that office!" She slammed the table, and stares were starting to come their way.
They both got eyes, especially from the guild staff. They clearly didn't respect her. She wasn't from here either, it seemed. Her accent was a lot stronger than people of Ivarcant—perhaps a strait away from the sea of the borderlands.
"You find no solace in coin?" Maeve asked, perplexed. Rennia didn't budge.
"I find no solace in whoring myself out to a stranger. Take your coin and go. I didn't sleep with anyone." Rennia got a bit excited as mischievous thoughts welled up. This girl was easy to read. Now, if she wanted to play, Rennia would. "I'm just special, you see. Yes, my class is something beyond yours. I'm someone with more nominal and real-world effects. I suggest you find something else besides adventuring. Perhaps take up knitting."
Maeve's lips dropped, so did her eyes. And then she sank into the table.
Did I go too far? Rennia wondered. Maeve just stared at the ceiling, and Rennia started to feel very awkward.
She started mumbling to herself. "I am Maeve of House Kastellarys. Why won't these peasants give me the attention I require? I've been here for a week, and nothing. They refuse to give me a dungeon pass. Back home, it was as simple as paying gold. I don't want to delve with commoners!"
Paying gold to get what you want was textbook corruption. No wonder she doesn't like rules and regulations—not that Rennia liked them either. Wait... House Kastellarys. She recognized that name. It was a merchant family from southwest of Ossterria, from Alquorii? I think. They had absurd wealth, masters of trade. What was some annoying heiress doing in a guild in Ivarcant?
Rennia straightened up. If she did cross that house, there might be serious consequences, but she refused to lower her tone. She had a backer too—a weird one. And if she was correct, her mother's friends were very powerful indeed. A game of nepotism, then. She could tip her toes in.
She cleared her throat as Mara appeared out of nowhere in a sudden rush, her cloak trailing behind her, a rolled-up document clenched in her hand tied with a blue and black cord and red ribbon. She handed it to Rennia.
"Trial assignment. Natural dungeon outside of the city—small one, mana crystal retrieval, should be easy." She said, slapping it down, sweating profusely and looking like she had seen a ghost. Now wasn't the time to pry. "Local ecology resets once a month. Low-leveled, still dangerous. Suggest you go today instead of next week—month is on the horizon. Do it early and you'd be back before nightfall."
Mara caught her breath. Rennia wouldn't pry, but Mara had noticed another type of disturbance. She stared at Maeve with mild disgust and then turned to Rennia again, making eye contact, her expression becoming unreadable—like she was piercing through but relaying information as well, saying, "This bitch is with you?"
Bitch. This was someone of noble standing, and she openly called her a bitch. Something was amiss here.
Rennia shook her head. "This isn't a solo trial. You'll need a partner. Rules are rules. You'll be graded based on the quality of the mana crystal."
"Mana crystals? Don't they grow deep underground? How certain are you it's still in there?" Rennia asked curiously. She'd never had reason to gather them.
"There's a vein network of crystals and minerals beneath and around the city, too many to mine, enough to make a beggar rich. Trust me, you won't regret doing it."
Rennia was skeptical, but a trial run was a trial run.
Mara leaned forward to whisper something. "Please don't participate in any unconventional activities on the job."
"What, no, no, no, no." Rennia panicked and waved her off, catching the eyes of the depressed Maeve.
Mara turned to Maeve, her stance shifted, arms crossed beneath the weight of her breasts. Rennia's eyes fell on her bouncing chest. Her hips gave a small twitch and one thigh wiggled against the other.
Rennia pressed herself down. She was instinctively grinding her cock against her leg, and her hand had started moving down slightly. She spread her arms around the table, knowing she couldn't afford to let herself out in public like this. Her penis had other ideas.
"You again?" Mara asked.
Maeve became snide. "I'm still waiting for a proper assistant, skald. I demand to see Lady Corina at once. I've warned you before—my family will hear of this." Mara waved her off, nearly walked away.
"You're wasting your time, Ms. Kastellarys. Like Rennia here, if you can't find a partner, then I suggest you leave the guild at once. Rules are rules for a reason."
The two started bickering. Rennia had to take a step back, catching her breath unnoticed.
Fuck! The corruption was kicking in.
She couldn't help but mentally edge herself. Mara was affable but professional, and above all else, sexier and built for "birthing." Her hips were clearly for straddling and her tits meant for milking. Maeve, on the other hand, while not as well-built and more lean but mean, had attitude in place of fluff. Rennia could see herself facefucking Maeve while being mouthed at with sharp insults and...
And—what the fuck. God, this was so bad.
Her self-control was slipping. She brought her knees together.
How could she ever get into those situations? She just couldn't just offer herself up. Maeve was a rude stranger she needed—
"Rennia. Rennia." Mara asked, mildly annoyed. "Are you listening?"
"What? Um, yes."
"You haven't found a teammate yet, have you?" Mara gave her the side-eye.
"No," Rennia confided.
"You're both unfunded, unpartnered, and under-leveled. Gods help me, I have so many things to deal with. Just go together."
"Sure," Rennia agreed briefly. "Wait? What? With her? Never. She's obnoxious."
The hooded Maeve threw her hood off to argue. "I refuse! I refuse to work with peasants, much less one unnamed. She's a tourist—an Ossterrian peasant, judging by her speech patterns and manners."
Rennia started to bristle. She stared at the contents of the letter, the instructions, and the fucking gold!
A small moment of calculation: what if she did this? With that gold back home, she could live like a king for a week. Sure, everything was expensive here, but what if this run was the opportunity to get her life back on track? Money, money, money. She wanted new clothes, her own bed, and maybe even a visit to the red-light district. Sticking her dick in Ishmere was starting to bore her.
She only needed to bear this creature next to her.
"Four hundred gold for retrieval?" she asked.
The hooded girl scoffed at her. "That's barely a meal."
"For me, it's a week's rent at a nice inn and three nights of not selling steel out of my pack," Rennia replied.
Mara raised a brow, clearly aware of the unspoken negotiation. "You'll take the job, then? You'll go with the spoiled noble?"
"I'll take her," Rennia smirked, heavy implication in her tone.
Mara nodded. "Then you can share the assignment—double the pay for team participation. Farewell."
Mara ran away, and Maeve called out, "Wait! I didn't agree!"
Rennia stared at Maeve curiously and saw her on the ground with a choker on, her boots on her face, begging her but calling her a nasty peasant at the same time—a heiress turned into a fuck toy.
She snapped out of her mental delusions when she saw the hooded girl watching her, standing like a threat, pondering. "What is wrong with you? Are you some kind of lesbian pervert?"
Rennia blushed and then looked away. "What? No, I was thinking of the coin."
"I don't believe you. Who fantasizes about scraps on the table, leftovers? What class are you anyway?"
"Pathfinder, level 4."
Maeve snorted. "Level 4? Pathetic. I'm a level 12 sorceress. Pathfinders are supposed to be rare. I suppose, if we are going to work together, you'll have to follow my lead. Just keep your eyes to yourself, weirdo."
"You're one to talk. Have you been sitting here all week trying to find a partner? Maybe try being nice next time."
"Niceties are for fools. The world is run by money and initiative." Rennia became quiet, and she thought back to her exile. If only that were true. "See, even you acknowledge it."
"Doesn't mean we should forsake ourselves for coin."
"If you say so." Maeve said, "Well, I'd hate to spend all day with you, peasant, so I mildly suggest we get this dungeon over with." She yanked the paper from Rennia and opened it.
"Hey, you can't just—"
"Oh, shut up, peon."
Rennia did so, but not out of respect.
Maeve's eyes trailed over the maps, the paper, and the instructions. "Ah, this dungeon—I know where it is."
"You do?"
"Of course. I'm well-educated."
"Not well-mannered."
"If you continue to speak to me like that, I'll hire a mercenary to strip you naked and flog you publicly."
Well, that's close to home for you.
This was nothing new. She'd worked with unscrupulous people before—annoying people, problematic people, people like her. Annoyances, problem children. If anything, hitting something—anything—would make her feel better. And the coin... once she had enough, she'd go to the Ossterrian capital, find her family.