The Guild Hall went deathly quiet. Of the cheerful banter and heartily laughter nothing remained. Even the heated bidding war over this fresh batch of indentured slaves came to a halt. Yes, everyone present glared at the newcomer, and as soon as they saw who it was all eyes were averted, lest they warranted unwanted attention to themselves. Such a reaction from hardened adventurers amazed Tilly. Well, some of the lower-ranked ones, could use their lack of experience as an excuse, but here were groups such as Harlow’s Chaser, one of the few mithril ranked teams, and the Union’s Bliss and Joackim's Snake-Eaters, who were close to earning the highest rank of adamantine adventurers. At least one, if not more, of the people making them, had achieved this rank as individuals. And here they were, hurrying to lower their heads, finding their drinks far more interesting.

Honestly, Tilly couldn’t blame them. Even she knew who the man was – the Fixer. One of the most infamous problem-solvers for the Adventurer's Guild. No, not one of, but the best problem solver, Tilly corrected herself. Sure, there are other fixers working for the guild, but only this man is known as The Fixer. Usually, adventurers were the ones to deal with quests, tasks, and the likes, so she was not sure what exactly the man did. All her knowledge on the matter boiled down to hearsay and unconfirmed rumours, the ones circulating among the folk calling the slums home. To put it simply, the fixers were the guild’s cleaners or hired assassins as the educated people preferred to call them. When an adventurer stepped out of line too much or caused too much problem for the Guild, a fixer made sure to remind them of how things worked. That usually ended with the offender ending in a shallow grave somewhere no one was going to find him or her. The same went for clients who lied about the quest’s information. And sometimes, rare as such events were, fixers helped with evaluating what rank a particularly tricky quest was to be assigned.

As a rule of thumb, adamantine adventurers close to reaching retirement age were the ones to take the position of a fixer. But not this guy. Officially, according to the rumours, he was only a lowly copper rank, but he had been working for the Guild as long as anyone could remember. Plus, if the reactions of the people in the spacious hall were anything to go by, there were plenty of other rumours going around amongst the adventurers.

Without so much as saying a word or greeting anyone, the man strode to the small podium, where Tilly stood, waiting for the bidding on her to start. It wasn’t that she wished to become a slave, but her debts had spiralled out of control, forcing her to take this step. Besides, becoming an indentured slave to the Adventurers Guild was the better option. At least this way, the money her future master pays for her services was going to go towards clearing her debt. And there was the security of the contract the Guild enforced, making sure there was no abuse and that she would actually receive her agreed-upon percentage of the pay after each quest.

Tilly’s blood ran cold as the Fixer snatched her chin with his callous hand and shifted her head left and right. His rough scarred face remained emotionless, all while his piercing black eyes bored into her like vampire leeches. No one she knew had dark eyes. No one in the entire Kingdom of Lumina had dark eyes. So at least some of what she had heard was true – the Fixer is a foreigner.

“Tsk.” he clicked with his tongue and let go of her chin. Slowly, he looked at the other three people lined up behind her. “I suppose you will have to do.” The Fixer’s voice was as rough as his face suggested.

“Uh… Fixer, sir,” the receptionist in charge of the auction spoke with a trembling voice, while her slim form shook like an autumn leaf, “there is… uhm… an ongoing auction for this one…”

Arching an eyebrow, the bulky man looked over his shoulder at the small, quiet crowd, which was shouting only moments ago.

“Does anyone object?” He asked as if the adventurers were going to argue.

“Sir… uhm… I know that the Guild rules allow you to… uhm… claim any indentured slave, who hasn’t been sold,” the receptionist took a deep breath thinking it would slow her thundering heart. “But as I said, this is... uhm… an ongoing bidding…”

Visibly tired of her strangled attempts to form full sentences, the Fixer placed a thick finger over his lips, stopping the woman’s rambling.

“How much?”

“What?” the receptionist blinked, dropping the stack of documents kept close to her chest.

“How much was the last bid?”

“Uhm… I don’t think…” a snort prevented the woman from finishing her thought. “Four-thousand gold crowns,” she said with a sigh, her chin dropping to her chest.

“Septima,” the Fixer spoke in a low voice, and an old woman in a maid’s uniform peeled from his shadow. No one had seen her walk behind the man, transfixed as their attention was on him.

“It shall be done, master.” the maid lowered her head and pulled on the decorative chain hanging from Tilly’s slave collar.

Somewhat reluctantly, the receptionist followed the two of them as they made their way to one of the upper floor offices to deal with all the bureaucratic formalities. The girl dared a glance at the man who was to become her new master as he made his way towards the back rooms. There was a cumulative sigh of relief once the thick wood door closed behind him and the usual chatter returned to the Guild’s Hall.

 

---

 

Tilly was amazed by how shiny everything looked inside the office they entered. Sure, she was a poor country bumpkin, who failed to survive in the capital’s slums, but she was far from destitute. In her various jobs, before becoming a willing slave, she had seen the insides of merchant homes and noble mansions. However, they all paled compared to the luxury of the furniture of the office. Every chair was cushioned and covered by expensive animal skins. The large sofa at the right wall was made of Krilliq’s fur, the S-rank monster as dangerous as rare it was to find. And the wooden surfaces were, oh boy, those were decorated with gold filigree. One of those chairs was enough to cover her debt!

But out of all the rugs, fancy busts, and vases, the desk was the main exhibit in this room of outlandish luxury. Made from a single piece of hardened slime-tree, decorated with mithril and gold filigree depicting scenes of the Holy Scripture. Tilly doubted that even the king had something this expensive in the royal palace. Out of habit, she used her appraisal skill and gasped in shock at the estimated value.

“Sixty million!”

“Quite correct, miss,” the receptionist smiled. The colour returned to her face, now that the Fixer was nowhere to be seen. “Though I must warn you, that use of your appraisal and identify skills is strictly forbidden under article II, clause B of your indenture contract with the Guild. All fines for breaking those rules will be added to your current debt, which the Guild has graciously bought off from the loan sharks.”

The receptionist turned towards the maid and continued in a colder tone. “Please collect the twenty gold crowns fine from the main desk on your way out.”

“Now, if you two could please seat down and wait a moment for the Guild Master to arrive…”

“The Guild Master?!” Tilly exclaimed, unsure if she had heard correctly. “I’m just a class C slave. Why would the Guild Master see the transfer of my contract?”

“Right, right, usually he would not,” the receptionist smiled conspiratorially. “But where that man is involved, the Adventurers Guild has a very strict protocol, isn’t that right, Miss Rebeca?”

The maid’s emotionless mask cracked at the mention of the name. However, she regained her composure surprisingly fast and issued a not-so-subtle warning of her own.

“Miss No-husband-at-thirty administrative drone, it is nice to see that you are going to remain as a receptionist for a little longer.”

“I like to think that this is my decision to make and not yours, Septima,” the Guild Master spoke from the door. “As for you, Sally, you were warned not to antagonise her. I don’t care if she is your aunt. Miss Septima is not considered a human as far as our institution and the Kingdom, for that matter, are concerned.”

Wait, what? Aunt? Not human? This off-hand comment delivered too much information for Tilly to wrap her head around. One thing at a time. The maid, Rebeca or Septima, or whatever her name was, did not look a day over fifty. Not to mention she was the spitting image of a human. There was nothing to indicate there was even a drop of elf, dwarf, or any other blood in her. Slightly wrinkled skin, long silvery hair tied into a bun. Immaculate black and white maid’s uniform, kind, yet hard, green eyes. Yep, definitely human.

Compared to her, the Guild Master’s bestial ancestry was obvious. Too smooth-skinned for a man well past middle age. Tiny ears, flat nose, predatory yellow eyes with a hint of a slit in them. Way too slim for a man, not to mention a renowned warrior. Too tall too. Tilly did not need to use her identification skill to guess that he had lizard-men blood mixed in him. The same went for the receptionist. Definitely a human and a lioness huntress mix. But not on the same side as the maid, though.

“Let’s get this over with, Master Yaghaty,” Septima said politely, “and avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Look, I appreciate the work your master has done for us, but I’ll be damned if I allow you, a slave, to continue to talk in such a disrespectful manner in my presence. Am I clear, girl?”

“My apologies, Guild Master.” the maid lowered her head, her hands clasped firmly in front of her.

“Very well,” Yaghaty sneered and took the offer file from Miss Sally’s hands. “So… This is the one that caught the Fixer’s eye? Let’s see...” He continued to read through the file in silence.

“I have to say, I am a little surprised,” the man spoke after a couple of minutes. “There is nothing special in here, about you, miss Tilly Drake. Well, save for your fifteen thousand gold crowns debt. Is that with interest?”

“Yes, sir,” the receptionist confirmed. “It is about ten times the normal rate, and the authorities have been notified. However, there should be no further increase after we bought the debt from Francis and his gang.”

“Him again… You know, Septima, I am this close to asking your master to deal with that lowlife vulture. But on the other hand, I don’t want a repeat of last time.” The Guild Master turned to Tilly as he continued. “Heed my advice, girl, you are better off not owning any favours to that man.”

“Thank…” A cold stare from both Septima and Sally made her close her mouth. It was clear they did not want the Guild Master to lose his train of thought again. Tilly had the distinct impression that the two women preferred to spend as little time as possible in each other’s company. Well, that’s what she was guessing from all the sneaky hard murderous glares they were exchanging.

“Where was I? Ah, yes. You have the appraisal and identification skills, not a bad combo, but not that impressive. Cooking, sewing, reading, and writing are passable. Some other trivial skills too. As for traits; you are blessed with Quick Sleeper, Fast Stamina Recovery, Hard Worker, and… I’ve never seen that last one before? Unstable Glass Executioner?”

“It is a rare trait, sir,” Sally offered. “The people in the archives had a hard time deciphering it. According to them, Miss Drake has landed the worst parts of three different traits, when receiving her blessing from the Goddess of Fate, when she was born.”

“Not positive then?” Yaghaty’s initial excitement, at having someone with a rare trait, fading away.

“No, sir. On the contrary, it was considered putting it under the Curses & Afflictions section, but since it is a Goddess granted trait, we dared not to do so, without receiving proper approval from at least three high-ranking priests...”

“Are you going to tell me what it is, Sally? Or are you going to lecture me on the proper way of interpreting the Gods’ will?” Irritation coloured the Guild Master’s voice.

“Right. Sorry, sir. One moment please.” The woman shifted through the papers in her hands and placed one at the top of the pile before reading directly from it. “Unstable Glass Executioner. If the owner of the skill should acquire offensive and or combat-related skills, they will be prone to violent outburst in the presence of wounded enemy and ally alike, blinding them to any prior plans and forcing the owner to try their best to slay the wounded opponent or remove the wounded ally from the battlefield. This is the influence of the Executioner trait. The Glass portion of the trait is considered being the worst part of the Glass Warrior perk. The portion which balances the benefits of the Warrior portion. In the current configuration, the Glass part prevents the owner of the trait from wearing proper armour. To the point that should they do so, they will become physically ill and any healing done to them will turn into a harmful effect, further deteriorating their condition. The last part of this perk and the dominant one in the configuration is the Unstable part. The Office of Skills & Perk Appraisal is not sure which exact perk this portion is from. However, in the current configuration, this part enhances the negative effects of the other two in addition to further reducing the trait’s owner’s ability to remain mentally stable in a combat-like situation.” Sally took a long breath after finishing.

“Mark wrote this, I take it. As verbose as ever,” Yaghaty shook his head. “Without this trait, you could at least have made good non-combatant support to any party, Miss Drake. I’m sorry to say this, but under the current circumstances, the Guild will not offer much protest to any contract offered by the Fixer.”

He gave her a tired smile. “As things are, we are forced to write a large portion of the money offered for you off as damaged goods compensation to any buyer.”

“Meaning the Guild will lose money if they sell me as an indentured slave? So, I’m not going to be protected with a Guild contract?” Tilly said, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, child. But that is a yes to both your questions.” Yaghaty stepped closer to her and placed his slender arm on her shoulder. “However, we will redact the end date of your contract to five years and reduce the annual payment plan by sixty percent. And you don’t need to worry about your debt. The Guild will honour its offer and clear it all for you.”

Always look at the silver lining, that’s what her dad used to say, before wasting away from the famine which swept through her village. Sure, getting her debts cleared was all nice and good, but it was quite the blow to learn that she was worth close to nothing, even as a slave.

“Now, Septima, do you understand and accept the aforementioned stats of the new slave your master wishes to purchase?” The Guild Master turned to the maid, who hadn’t so much as blinked during the entire exchange.

“I do. Those will not be an issue.” Septima said politely and reached into the sleeve of her dress and pulled a rather heavy bag of coins. She has a Restricted Space Storage skill, Tilly noted. “The going bid for this one was four thousand, as such, and for disrupting the auction, my master offers six thousand gold crowns. Inside you will also find the standard slave contract he uses when purchasing expendable bodies from the Adventurers Guild.”

“Expendable what?” Tilly jumped from the chair she was sitting on. “No! I did not agree to be used as a sacrifice or meat shield! It says so in the contract I signed with the Guild!”

“Miss Drake,” the receptionist shouted, “as the Guild Master explained, any agreement made without institution is made void due to your very negative trait. In addition, you renounced your civil rights, the moment you became a willing slave.”

“But that’s…”

“Not fair. I know. However, my dear, life is not fair. And you have only yourself to blame, for accumulating such a debt in the first place.” Yaghaty interrupted

“There is no need to worry, Tilly,” Septima spoke softly next to her. “As long as you follow instructions and accomplish your duties, you will be fine.”

“And that is supposed to make me feel better?” She hissed at the maid.

“No,” the old woman shook her head. “I’m only informing you of the basic rules you need to know in order to avoid being used as spare body parts.”

“I… What? Are you serious? She is not serious, right?” The girl looked pleadingly at the Guild’s representatives.

“I’ve known this woman for sixty-six years, and I’ve never heard her make jokes.” Yaghaty gave a cautious smile, before heading towards the door.

“Now, if I’m not mistaken all should be ready in the ritual chamber. What do you say, dear? Let’s go and have you marked as a proper slave and put all of this behind us.”

Like she had any say about it. Resigning to her fate, Tilly followed after the man, while Septima shadowed her a couple of steps behind. Maybe, she was wrong and an indenture slave contract was not her best option. By the looks of things, she would have been safer as a labour slave in the mines or the plague hospitals. A little too late to change her mind, Tilly thought, as they reached the ritual chamber. Only a few moments more of freedom, before the slave mark was placed on her and her new life as a willing, or in this case unwilling, slave begins. The Guild might consider her a lost cause and her new master might see her as expendable, but she would be damned if she just sits down and gives up. She is a Drake and her family knows how to take punches and stand up stronger.