The Sixth School.

Chapter Thirty One: A Lopsided Contract…

Greg had no idea where he was. A whole hour of sprinting through streets and lanes, turning every corner, and diving into every alley that promised to free him from his pursuers had left him completely lost. It didn’t help that the men that were after him were as relentless as the hounds of Hades. On several occasions, Greg had been certain that he’d lost them, only for them to pop up hot on his trail barely a minute later. Greg had long since begun to grow desperate. He was completely unfamiliar with this city, whereas the ones after him seemed to know it like the back of their hand. That he so far hadn’t been caught yet was purely a function of blind luck as opposed to his foresight. It was because of this growing desperation that when he saw it, he didn’t hesitate.

Greg had managed to get out of the line of sight of his pursuers. As such, when he came across the open door into what was probably someone’s house, it was, to him, nothing short of salvation. With barely any pause, he shot into the house and locked the door behind him. Despite the overwhelming fatigue that he felt at that moment, Greg didn’t dare breathe loudly for fear of being heard by the men when they ran by. So far, Greg hadn’t at any point entered into any buildings all through the past hour of being chased around the city. As such, Greg wasn’t surprised when the thugs chasing him ran past the house he was in without even pausing to look at it.

It was a little more than a minute after the sound of their footsteps had faded into the distance that he finally heaved a sigh of relief. Letting go of the breath that he’d been holding, Greg turned around to survey the room that he was in. Greg froze when his gaze landed on the woman that had so far been calmly watching him. Greg had noted the opulent way in which the room they were in was furnished. This woman was either powerful enough or married to someone powerful enough that she wasn’t scared of some stranger being inside her house.

Greg had no idea how old the woman was, but if her looks were anything to go by, then she was probably in her late twenties. The outfit she had on was plum red and much closer to an Indian saree as opposed to the normal Western dresses that Greg was used to. Despite this fact, the outfit didn’t do her figure any injustice. From the way that it clung to each one of her curves, Greg, even in his fatigued state, couldn’t help the slight stirrings he felt in his nether regions

When their eyes caught each other’s gaze, Greg immediately knew that she had noticed him checking her out. A smile that made Greg feel like prey caught in the sights of a predator crossed the woman’s expression. Greg had been about to try and placate the woman and assure her that she had nothing to fear from him. All of a sudden, however, he was no longer sure that she was the one that needed placating. “Are you the new help that my husband hired?” She asked.

There was a bit of an awkward pause after she’d asked this. Greg couldn’t help but look down at his clothes which had grown filthy over the course of the chase he’d been on, and then back at the woman. Given how lavishly furnished the place was, there was no way a servant meant to work here would show up to work this filthy. Not to mention the fact that the woman had probably seen him run into her house and hold the door closed in a manner that screamed he was trying to hide from pursuers. There’s no possible way she didn’t know that he wasn’t what she was claiming him to be.

Still, Greg chose to clear up any misunderstandings. “Um, I don’t think…”

“Silence!” Greg’s attempts at explaining the situation were immediately cut off by the woman. The steel in her voice, as she uttered the word was more responsible for Greg immediately shutting up than even the word itself. “You don’t speak unless directly permitted by me to do so!” she instructed in the tone of a mother explaining to a child. The change in her tone from warm and kind, to cold and sharp and then back to the warm and kind once more was so sharp that Greg almost experienced whiplash just listening to her.

Greg wasn’t sure what was going on here, but one thing was sure. This woman knew that he wasn’t some help employed by her husband. He knew that she knew, and she knew that he knew that she knew. She, however, wasn’t willing to let him say out loud what they both knew. It was almost like they were playing a game of pretend but no one was allowed to speak out loud what it was they were doing.

The woman then looked him up and down. “The standards for servants have really declined,” The woman continued with her charade. “Of course, my husband is too occupied with his ledgers to even pay attention to the kind of servants he sends my way,” She continued her monologue. “This won’t do. No, this most certainly won’t do!” She declared like someone who’d come to a resolution. “Come with me!” She ordered, turning around and walking out of the room.

Greg had already wasted an hour of the day running away from the thugs that the blonde girl had set on him. As such, he was understandably hesitant to waste any more time by humoring the games of this woman. On the other hand, however, it wasn’t like he had even the vaguest of ideas about how he was going to get an invitation to the Mayor’s dinner party. If he walked out of this house, he’d be no better off than when he walked into the city an hour earlier. With a shrug, Greg decided that he might as well figure out what the woman was after.

Moving quickly, Greg caught up to the woman just as she began to climb a set of stairs moving toward the first floor of the villa-like house. There was much opulence in the way the whole place was furnished and one with a keen eye would have noted the amount of detail that had gone into the décor of the place. Unfortunately for whoever had gone through the pains of decorating the place, Greg’s eyes were fixed on the swaying hips of the woman just a few steps ahead of him. With both of them on the stairs, the difference in their elevation made it so that her hypnotically jiggling posterior was right at eye level with every step that they took. Greg couldn’t help the disappointment he felt when they finally got to the top of the stairs.

Greg looked around trying to seek out any hint of why this lady wanted him up here. Of, course, a few lewd thoughts had entered his mind, but so far, nothing seemed to be pointing in that direction. Greg was led into what must have been the house’s upstairs study. On the far end of the room was a large imposing desk made out of dark wood, polished till it was gleaming even in the low light of the room. On one side of the room was a large shelf so packed with books that not even a slip of paper could be added there. On the opposite wall was a large floor-to-ceiling window occupying a third of the wall. This allowed an unobstructed vista of the surrounding opulent neighborhood.

The woman walked around the desk, pulled open a drawer, and started to rummage inside “Ah, here we go,” The woman muttered under her breath. In the silent room, however, Greg could easily pick up on what she’d said. Greg watched as she pulled out a blank sheet of paper from the drawer she’d been rummaging through. Greg was confused as to why she would bring him up here for some blank piece of paper. The woman, however, reached across the table, picked up a bright feather quill, and began writing. Greg was left standing around in silence for three minutes as she wrote. Once she was done, however, she flipped the paper around and with the quill lying across the paper, pushed it towards him. Sign this,” She instructed him.

Greg walked forward and picked up the paper from the table. Since Greg was inside the system, he instinctively knew what each word meant. He, however, took the time to go through the whole document. Not only did he want to learn to consciously read the words, but he also wanted to get a feel for the grammar of the human tongue. Given that it only took the woman three minutes to write, it wasn’t that long of a document. By the time he was done reading it, however, Greg’s brows were raised high on his face. A skeptical look crossed his face as he looked up at the woman.

The document was essentially a contract to hire Greg as her personal help. The reason Greg was looking at the woman in the manner that he was, was that ninety-five percent of the clauses in the contract were targeted towards her as the employer and not him. To call the thing one-sided would not even begin to cover just how lopsided it was.

As his employer, she was expected to cater to his needs. She could not instruct him to do anything that put his life in jeopardy except with his consent. She couldn’t instruct him to break the law unless he consented to it. She could not fire him before the term of employment was up. If she did, she would have to pay a fine of ten thousand coins. Even without knowing what the coins she was referring to were, Greg got the impression that this wasn’t some paltry amount of money. According to the contract, she also couldn’t harm him or allow anyone in her direct family to harm him. Neither she nor her family could plot against him for the duration of the contract. If they put him in any kind of danger through their direct or indirect action, they’d be obligated to do all that they can to save and protect him. For the duration of the employment, as her employer, she would have to cater to all his needs, physical and financial, and so on… 

This was the tenor of most of the contract. Greg couldn’t help but wonder if even half of these clauses were enforceable. Greg didn’t say anything as he turned his attention to the clauses that would require something of him. There were only four clauses. First, Greg couldn’t intentionally harm his employer or her family. Second, Greg couldn’t steal any of his employer’s property or that of her family. Third, Greg couldn’t ditch the job before the term of employment was up. The term being ten full cycles of the seasons. Greg couldn’t help but think that she might as well have written forever given the fact that the dungeon only lasted a day. Finally, as her servant, Greg only answered to her and no one else. 

After Greg was done reading the documents, he looked up at the woman. “What’s the catch?” Greg posed. The woman’s head tilted to the side a look of confusion marring her features. It took a second for Greg to remember that this wasn’t his old world, the expression didn’t translate as well in the human tongue. “What do you get out of this?” He rephrased the question.

The woman’s brows furrowed as if the question was idiotic. “A servant,” she replied with a simple shrug.

“I’ll try not to insult your intelligence, I ask that you return the favor,” He relayed calmly, keeping his expression amiable. “In this city full of people desperate to make a coin, you can’t convince me that you are lacking servants. I’m a stranger that you’ve met no more than a few minutes ago. There is no reason for you to be this kind to me unless there is some hidden benefit to you,” He relayed calmly. “What is it?” Greg asked.

The woman regarded him for a silent minute before speaking. “My husband is a successful merchant. He worked his way from nothing to the man that he is today. But while he has made his way out of poverty, the boy that had to fight tooth and nail for everything he had remains inside him. No matter how much he gains, that boy inside him is never satisfied. He will lose months of sleep to gain a certain item, a certain business deal, a certain plot of land, a certain house in the noble district,” she said looking at the walls around them. “As soon as he gets them, however, they lose all meaning to him and he moves on to the next thing that he doesn’t have. When he was courting me, he made me feel like the only thing that would ever catch his eye,” The woman relayed with a bittersweet smile. “After we were married, I became another trinket tossed onto the pile of things he had obtained and forgotten,” She said.

“Whatever servant he is out there getting for me would be little more than a glorified spy,” She declared. “Someone to report everything I do to him so he can ensure that the little trinket of a wife he left back home behaves like it’s supposed to!” She declared. There was little to no emotion in the woman’s voice. The look in her eyes, however, could probably be distilled into the world’s most potent venom. “Being ambitious I can understand. I can even forgive his poor treatment of me. But to go ahead and insult me by placing a spy at my side to report on everything I do? That, I will not stand for!” She declared in a cold tone.

“Unfortunately for me, until you walked in a few minutes ago, I had no one that I could turn to, to help me with this task. You see, my husband is a very powerful man and not many would be willing to go against him,” She declared. “You, however, are in desperate enough of a situation that you might be willing to take up the position,” She relayed calmly.

“What makes you think that?” Even though she had him dead to rights, Greg couldn’t help but try and argue.

The woman held out her hands with an amused smile. “This is the noble district, only one group of thugs would dare run around in this part of the city,” She relayed simply. “If what I hear of them is true, then there’s nowhere in this city that you can hide from them,” She said. “My husband may not care much for me, but he will stop at nothing to keep his name unsullied. If his wife’s personal servant were to be killed and he didn’t retaliate in the harshest way possible, then he wouldn’t be able to show his face anywhere in high society. The spider gang knows this. As soon as it is known that you have become my personal servant, then they won’t be as out for your blood as they presently seem to be,” She explained. “The choice now lies with you. Sign and be my servant, or take your chances with the spider gang,” She laid out.

“If your husband is dangerous enough to scare off the spider gang, wouldn’t I be making an even bigger enemy by agreeing to this?” He asked.

“Have you read the contract?” The woman countered. “Or were you just looking at the paper pretending to be able to?” she added.

“You really think that a scrap of paper is going to stop someone that dangerous from taking my head off? Greg asked, unable to parse out why she seemed to be so convinced that this simple contract would solve everything.

The woman regarded him for a long while almost as if she was trying to ascertain whether he was being serious or not. “You are not from Torrin, are you?” She asked. Greg was shocked at her words and for a second he thought that the woman knew that she was part of a dungeon and him the only person that could enter and exit this dungeon. He, however, quickly remembered the questions that the guard asked as he entered the city just an hour back. According to everyone inside this particular dungeon, Torrin was part of a larger kingdom. This woman only thought him to have come from some other part of said kingdom. 

“What you are holding in your hand is a mana contract,” The woman informed him. “The moment it is signed, even if you were to tear up the paper itself, the words in the contract still hold. If either one of the parties involved in the contract were to break it… well… let’s just say that their end would not be pretty,” She relayed. “If you were from Torrin you’d know that all the nobles use a mana contract with their servants,” she relayed. “No better way to ensure that you don’t have to worry about your servants than a contract that enforces itself the moment it is breached,” She explained.

Greg gave the contract another, more wary, glance. “I don’t see any punishments for breach of contract outlined here,” He stated.

“That’s part of the threat of the contract,” She answered calmly. “Neither party knows what the consequences of breaking it will be. That way you can’t prepare for it or find a way to counter it. The one thing that you can be sure of, however, is that it’s something nasty. Skin that constantly feels like it’s on fire. Softening bones that break at even the slightest of exertions. A completely horrid odor that you can’t wash away no matter how much you bathe. Complete disfigurement that will make you repulsive even to your own mother and so on,” She listed.

“Somehow, I don’t see nobles risking such punishments over breaking a contract with a servant,” Greg spoke up, his skepticism evident. While he wasn’t familiar with the nobles of this world, he knew enough about human nature to know that wealth and power were the quickest and easiest way for people to gain a superiority complex. There’s no way, nobles would be willing to risk their well-being over mere servants.

“Do you think normal servants get contracts even a fraction as good as the one I’ve presented to you?” The woman posed with an arched eyebrow.

Understanding dawned on Greg as he realized that he’d been operating on the false premise that the contracts servants got were anywhere near as good as the one that he had in his hands. In all likelihood, the contracts those servants got were the inverse of what he got. All the obligations were placed on the servants and not the employers. Other than paying them an agreed-upon wage for their services, there was probably very little else that was expected of the employer.

When the woman noted that Greg had understood the reality of the situation, she continued to speak. “For all his faults, my husband wouldn’t be willing to have me suffer any of those afflictions,” She explained. “If for nothing else, just the reputational damage he would suffer if his wife was to turn into an ogre or start smelling like one, is enough to have him stay his hand,” She added. “So yes, that scrap of paper will restrain him,” She at last answered the question Greg had posed. “Now, are you going to sign it or not?” She asked. It was clear that she too was running out of patience.

“Just one last question,” Greg stated. Closing her eyes and letting out a long low breath, the woman nodded her assent. “The Mayor will be holding a dinner party tonight,” he said. “As a member of high society, you should be able to obtain an invitation, right?” he asked. “I want to be there,” He declared when the woman nodded. “Give me your word that you’ll take me to the party and I’ll sign this contract,” He offered.

She regarded him with some measure of caution. “That is an oddly specific request. Just what are you planning exactly?” she asked, not bothering to hide her suspicion.

“If I sign this contract, I won’t be able to run away from you lest some curse befall me,” He countered. “I’d have to be a complete idiot to plan something against the Mayor of the city without a way to get away once the deed is done,” Greg replied. The woman seemed to calm a bit as the truth of his words hit her. “I only wish to familiarize myself with high society,” He said truthfully.

Getting her to agree to this condition would allow him to achieve the objective set out for him by the system. Other than that, however, Greg was already thinking ahead to his future attempts at this dungeon. Greg had been completely blind and ignorant on this first attempt at the dungeon. When he’d walked through the gates to the city, he hadn’t known where to go or who to turn to. It was only through pure happenstance and blind luck that he’d somehow found himself in this situation. By attending the party, however, Greg would gain a list of people that he could, in the future, use to gain access to the Mayor’s dinner party.

“I will, after all, be representing you in the future,” Greg went on speaking. “I need to know the other members of high society so I don’t embarrass you,” Greg offered an explanation that would make sense to her.

After a small pause to think over his words, the woman smiled. “Forward-thinking,” She said, sounding pleased. “I like that,” She added. “Fine then, sign the contract and I promise to take you with me to the Mayor’s dinner party,” She stated.

Greg couldn’t help but smile in return even as his hand took hold of the quill and moved across the paper. As soon as the paper was signed, there was a slight shimmer of gold from it before it once again reverted to looking like mundane everyday paper. “Now, how should I refer to you?” he asked with a note of amusement. Here he was, having signed what was probably a ten-year contract with someone whose name he didn’t know. If not for the rules of the dungeon asserting that all relationships were reset with every new dungeon trial, this would have been a very stupid move on his part.

“Zarra,” The woman answered with a smile as she received the contract from him. “When you and I are alone, you can just refer to me as Zarra,” She said turning around and placing the contract on the table so that it was the first thing one would notice when they sat down at the table. “In the presence of company, such as my husband or other guests, you shall refer to me as Mistress Zarra or just mistress for shorthand,” She instructed turning back around to him. “Now, come with me,” She said as she walked past him and out of the room.

There was no hesitation in Greg as he moved after the woman. Part of it was curiosity. Greg wanted to see where this led. The city was like a grand tapestry of possibility. Greg was just following one of the many threads one could use to play through this particular dungeon. Another part, however, was caution. Greg wasn’t willing to test what the contract would consider disobedience and thus a breach of contract. Greg had had a whole morning to figure out that all his sensations worked the same as the outside world. Greg had tripped and fallen several times during the chase and the pain had been just as real as it would be in the real world. Unless Greg wished to find out what kind of torture the contract would subject him to, Greg was this woman’s servant for the rest of this dungeon run.

Whenever they passed any of the house servants, they usually paused their work and either bowed or curtsied to the mistress of the house. A few of them glanced his way but none commented on his presence. Greg had looked back on occasion when they passed workers that were in groups of twos and threes. They all just quietly went back to work with barely another glance or comment directed at him. Greg was left to wonder just how stringent the contract they had signed had to be for them to curtail the very human and natural inclination of people to gossip. Here was the mistress of the house with a strange young man that they’d never seen before and they barely even acknowledged it let alone gossiped about it. Like automatons, they just turned back to their work and continued working as if nothing had happened. It was a bit eerie if Greg was being completely honest.

Greg was surprised when they ended up in a small bathhouse off to the side of the main building. “Clean yourself,” The woman commanded. “I will be back in a short while with some spare clothes that you can wear while we go to get you fitted for a uniform,” She informed him before turning around and walking out of the room.

A slight sheen of steam clung to the surface of the water, telling Greg that the water in this pool was being heated somehow. Greg had so far been ignoring it, but now that he had the opportunity to bathe, he was conscious of just how dirty he’d become in the course of the escape from the spider gang thugs. With a shrug, Greg quickly disrobed and walked into the shallow pool. The water reached up to his belly button when standing. Greg was almost certain that the water was enchanted because of the way his muscles seemed to melt in relaxation the moment he stepped into it. The body he occupied seemed to be a simulacrum of his own. And while the real Roka wasn’t out of shape by any means, a whole hour of sprinting would have taken a toll even on him. It was only through an act of will that he began to focus on cleaning himself as opposed to just lying in the water and allowing it to caress him.

Greg had been at it for a few minutes when he heard the door open behind him. He was still naked with the water reaching up to his waist. This, however, wouldn’t obscure much as it was still largely clear. Not that Greg was inclined to hide anything. If the mistress of the house wanted an eyeful of what he was packing then he would all too gladly oblige. When Greg turned around, however, the cocky grin slid off his face.

Seated cross-legged at the edge of the pool smiling at him, was a girl about his age with long flowing blonde hair that cascaded all the way down to her waist. The last time Greg had seen this girl, she had been in the tight grip of one of the spider gang brutes shouting futile pleas for help. Greg wasn’t sure that he could take on even one of the men that had surrounded her. And yet, here she was, with barely a scratch on her. She didn’t even look ruffled by the close shave with death that she’d had with the spider gang thugs. In the girl’s hand, was the pigeon-egg-sized gem that she had placed in his pocket when she crashed into him. Greg couldn’t help but glance to where he’d discarded his pants as he realized that he’d left the gem in one of his pockets. The girl must have taken it from there. Without even looking, she was deftly twirling it with such skill that the thing seemed to be weaving in and out of her fingers on its own.

Looking at her, a whole bevy of emotions swept through Greg. Part of him was enraged to see her seated so calmly as if nothing had happened after she had used him. Greg could have easily died in that chase. And if that wasn’t bad enough, seeing as the dungeon didn’t dull any of his senses, if the thugs had used their blades, he would have been subjected to a gruesome way to die. Greg didn’t know if the system would pull him out the moment it judged that he was certain to die, or if it would force him to first experience it before taking him out. The very possibility of it, however, was enough to set his blood boiling.

Another more irrational part of Greg, however, was even more pissed at her for taking the gem. While she had placed him in hot water and left him to flounder, Greg had been consoling himself with the fact that, at least, he got the gem for his trouble. And yet, here the girl was, already having taken the gem back. In a way, it felt like she was stealing the gem from him as well. He was just a mule that she had used to ferry the gem from one point to the other and then discarded once she had no more use for him.

At the same time, however, while he may not be the smartest person out there, Greg was no idiot. This woman, by all indications, should have been either dead or really close to it. And yet, she was completely unharmed. In a moment of high adrenaline where most wouldn’t be able to think, she had kept her wits about herself and followed through on a plan that kept her from losing the gem. Greg himself couldn’t retrace his steps to the place where the chase had started. Yet, in less than two hours, the woman had tracked him down to a noble’s villa, and somehow, despite the heavy security out there the woman had gotten in without even setting off any alarms and gotten to him. Had she been an assassin, Greg would have been dead.

“Close the door on your way out,” Greg said as he turned back around and continued to clean himself.

Greg’s mind had quickly cycled through all the possible reactions he could show at this moment. He could react with curiosity about her. Greg, however, was already committed to Madam Zarra for this run. If he tried to ditch her, the contract would do a number on him. He could react with anger at being tricked. But Greg wasn’t willing to pit himself against her without first gaining a good grasp of her abilities. Lastly, he could react with greed and try to find a way to keep the gem. Once again, however, the woman was an unknown factor that he wasn’t willing to provoke. With all his options not viable to him, Greg only offered an indifferent response to her.

“Wait, that’s it?” There was genuine surprise in the woman’s voice as she asked this. Clearly, she had expected more of a reaction.

“I try not to associate with people who don’t value my life,” Greg replied. “So yes, that’s it,” he added, not turning back to her.

There was a long silence and for a second, Greg thought that the woman had indeed left. She, however, broke the silence once more. “Look, it wasn’t personal. I was in a bit of a tough spot and I needed a way to keep the item safe while I dealt with my tail,” She relayed. “Besides, how was I to know that you’d be… that you’d pull it out in front of them,” She might have caught herself, but what she’d been about to say was all too clear to the both of them.

“You got what you came for, did you not?” Greg growled as he rounded on the girl. “Now, If you could kindly fuck right off, I’d really appreciate that,” He said glaring straight at her.

The girl regarded him for a long while before she at last spoke. “Since I put your life in jeopardy, I’ll give you some free advice that might just save your life,” She relayed. “If you don’t wish to be dead before evening, find a way to get away from this household,” She said. “People know Sir Joram as just another merchant,” She stated. “Trust me, however, when I say that the man is much more than that,” She revealed. “Almost everything on the dark side of this city has his mark on it. Cross him, and the whole city might just come alive and eat you up” She cautioned.

“I signed a contract that protects me against him,” Greg was not sure who he was trying to convince, himself or the girl.

Greg heard the door to the bathhouse click, drawing his gaze in that direction as someone pulled on the latch to open it. When he turned back to where the girl was seated, however, the girl was gone. Greg almost couldn’t believe his own eyes, fighting the urge to rub at them to see if he’d been hallucinating. He’d barely turned away for more than a split second and yet, that was enough for her to disappear. All that was left behind was the sound of mocking laughter, her only response to the claim that a contract would protect him against Zarra’s husband…