A conversation between a Passivity Precept Counselor and Pat Wright, age 31. April 2nd 20XX

“But you let farmers kill cows for food.”

“Look, we don’t approve of that either but we also understand that carnivores need to eat and omnivores need some meat in their diet. Currently, there is no getting around that. Maybe someday...” *Shrugs*

“But what’s the difference—“

“Abusing an animal is not killing for the sake of living.”

“But—“

“No. For the foreseeable future, we’re taking Brownie Nommers away from you.”

I nervously nodded hello to Jethia Ravenborn. It was best if I avoided saying anything.

”Seriously? What is a mere level 4 Arcane Assassin going to do to help you get my gauntlets?”

With hate-filled eyes, Lore pressed his finger to his lips in the hush gesture. ”Secret things.”

”And you trust this halfling who doesn't know shit?”

”She’s more trustworthy than someone who does know shit.”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked me up and down. I could practically feel her weighing me and finding me wanting. “Oh? Well, since she’s trustworthy, I suppose I'll allow her to help you.”

The tenseness in my shoulders slightly relaxed at those words.

”I’m actually glad I ran into you, Lore.” She grinned. ”I wanted to tell you the good news.”

”Oh?” Was that a slight tremble in his voice?

”I managed to partner with a party running through the level 16 dungeon up near Fervent Falls. We’re leaving tonight and we’ll be gone for a week or so. I should be level 15 or 16 by the time I return.”

”Congratulations are in order then.”

She waved it off as if it wasn't important but I could tell from the gleam in her eyes that it was.

”I didn't want to leave without telling you.”

”And so you have.”

She nodded and took a step away then deliberately turned back around to face me. Her delicate fingers tapped her cheek in thought. ”Hmm. Here’s a good idea. Since this halfling is so trustworthy, why don’t I temporarily remand you into her custody?”

Huh? Was that like me being in charge of Lore? That didn’t sound so bad if it prevented her from giving him orders. When I turned, I saw him glare so furiously at Jethia that his face turned red. And I knew there was a catch.

“I don’t think that—“

Lorevinel Silvercat: It’s fine. She’ll do it anyway.

“I, Jethia Ravenborn, hereby temporarily remand my prisoner, Lorevinel Silvercat into the custody of the player Mia for the duration of 3 weeks, allowing her to enforce my prisoner’s sentence in my stead.”

Warning! The free-roaming prisoner Lorevinel Silvercat has been remanded into your custody for three weeks! During this time you can order him to do a variety of tasks to help him make amends for his clan’s misdeeds. For the most part, he should remain a free-roaming prisoner so do not restrict his freedom too much.

The hell is this?

She stared at me, eyes glinting with malicious amusement. ”Enjoy your time as Lore’s temporary jailor! Bye!”

She walked off with a spring to her step.

Lore’s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. When he glanced at me, his face paled for a second, then he turned away in disgust.

And I knew… That manipulative bitch did this on purpose!

Lore walked away from me, but in the opposite direction as Jethia.

Though I wasn’t sure if I should follow or give him time I still trudged after him.

After a few minutes, I asked softly, “What exactly does you being remanded into my custody mean?”

He just kept walking. His lack of an answer — his rejection — hurt. It was almost a physical ache in my chest. Unsure of what to do I trailed after him, feeling like a wronged puppy. As we circled the market street it gave me time to think about what being in someone’s custody actually meant.

I remembered something I’d listened to once. Since my uncle was a conman and often had to leave an area fast or get caught, we traveled a lot. But he had a habit of listening to psychology audiobooks and free podcasts. One of those told a story about an experiment, the Stanford prison experiment, done with students becoming the jailors of other students and, well, the experiment did not end well, with some of the student guards psychologically torturing the student prisoners they were guarding. Lore’s situation... was it like that only worse because instead of having to suffer through it for a few days he’d had to suffer through it for years?

Shit. How do I even approach something like this? I was a teenager with a GED and barely a legal adult, not a licensed psychiatrist. How the fuck would I even approach someone with those kinds of mental scars? Unsure of what I should do to help, I just waited.

After a while, we reached a shop and stepped inside. The scent of herbs and flowers infused the air within. On the shelves behind the counter, glowing bottles were displayed like fancy liquor at a nightclub.

“Well, if it isn’t Bard Silvercat?!” The short man who worked at a desk stopped using instruments that looked a bit like an elven science lab met with a distillery. He grinned happily up at Lore.