The guild's fireplace crackled, yet Rabecca still shivered. Her well-manicured fingers bobbed the tea infuser. Droplets spilled. If it didn't stop moving, then she couldn't notice her hand trembled.

The Adventurer's Guild did not conduct business after dark. The receptionists locked their booths and left for their homes, and the commissary bondservants dwindled to a skeleton crew. Likewise, the Adventurer Master-in-Chief retired to his on-site personal quarters, and he, a rotund spineless man named Jorvan, would languor until noon.

But, the shadowy guildhall remained available, lit by dull-orange fire. The Letun Chapter of the Adventurer's Guild, like the Capital Chapter, lived a double-life. During the day, the guild attended to the proper adventurers, a dutiful wife, and fretted over their safety with itineraries. At night, she cheated and revealed herself as the sleepless mistress of the rule-breakers, the mercenary minded, and the desperate. Monsters romped under the moons, so, too, did rougher men and women.

Rabecca thought this face, the guild's true nature, suited her better. Several miniature idols blessed the main entrance, including Gaia and Odin, but the two-faced Aphrodite, or Venus depending on the worshipper, solely deserved that honor. Who better to lure men, and sometimes women, into such recklessness than the dual-natured lover-mistress?

Pondering about the guild's sensual angle, Rabecca sipped and frowned at the empty cup. After a curse under her breath, over a singed tongue, she brewed a fourth serving.

The guild jealously clutched her membership. Kingdom law, a long-standing precedent, prohibited adventurers from being conscripted. Who would exterminate the monsters if everyone marched to war? So, to bolster his ranks in the battle, Prince Wilhelm promised well-paying emergency contracts, and, for once, a nobleman kept his word.

Rabecca enjoyed a windfall. She splurged on elf-tailored apparel. Her leather bustier, the centerpiece of her wardrobe, clasped together by a single buckle, elevated her threatening-to-spill-free breasts and exposed her proudly maintained stomach. Oogling passersby collided into overlooked obstacles. Most women considered such attire a bedroom-only affair because it bordered on being lingerie, but her heroic ancestor demanded such flaunting. A fashionable long coat kept her warm, cut to hug her hourglass waist, and to divided to show off her laced thigh-high boots. The attention pleased her.

The witch witnessed Walter's, soon-to-be Lord, spell, and, like the other mages present, experienced his mana-shadow, the numinous presence formed by the expenditure of mana.

He awed her, it terrified her. Ants, she realized, must feel the same under her heel, complete and utter vulnerability. If interrogated, then Rabecca would confess all magic-users present held the same opinion. Someone whispered, "Aratron's Hand," and she gawked without argument. She wanted to scream, to flee, but no one did, so she couldn't, and her ankles felt roped and mouth gagged. She stared, teary-eyed and transfixed, at the swelling force of nature. As a teenager, she experienced the same intense fear, cornered in a barn by a spurned simpleton. 'Ice III' saved her, for the first time, then. This time, she could freeze the entire world solid, and Walter's numinous body wouldn't even slow. Its irresistible power, his uncompromising authority.

After the numinous body surged and burst, she instinctually anticipated its refractory phase. With her fear stripped away, pulsing blood, hyperventilation, and adrenaline-driven euphoria remained. Somehow, the method she couldn't fathom, but the 'afterskin' effect tingled her body.

She looked at her cup, lifted it to her lips, sipped, and singed herself again. She sat up straight and crossed her legs.

Walter now defined the perfect example Rabecca sought out. Successful, but not egotistical. Powerful, but naive enough to be strung along. His looks rated average, but that perversely enhanced the bedroom sport. She fantasized, extrapolated from his mana-shadow, his mental endurance, his willpower. It measured large enough to pin a dragon, so how would a helpless girl, an act, of course, laying underneath him fare--

--another hasty sip passed her lips.

"Hey, hot stuff."

Rabecca groaned and opened her eyes, "Are you stalking me? What are you still doing in Letun?"

Erik flashed a grin. Egotistical, but lacked success. Boyish, but invisibility lent itself to passivity rather than power. The bedroom? Well, he bragged quite a bit, but she never saw him with any women. A shame his shortcomings precluded her interest because his handsomeness met her standards, and he matched the descriptions of men found in Queen Margaret's Tales. The firelight served to enhance his angular face.

"Oh, you know, working, same as you, I'd imagine. Why are you here?" He tossed himself into the opposite chair and sprawled in his unjustifiably space-hogging way.

"Also working," she retracted her feet, "and don't scuff my new boots."

His chair creaked, and he angled it on its back two legs. "My bad, my bad. Find a new party yet?" During their time together in Resurrection, Rabecca had never seen Erik relaxed. Even seated, his body remained in motion, and he swayed to keep the chair tilted or twirled a dagger. She wondered if he slept balanced on a tightrope.

"As a matter of fact," she crossed her arms and leaned back, "I'm entertaining multiple bids."

"Well, with--erm--spells like yours, I'm sure the guys are falling over themselves."

She shot him a sideways glance. To avenge the not-so-sly implication, despite its truthfulness, she buttoned her coat and clothed her torso. The disappointment that flickered on his face vindicated her. She offered him a matronly point of the finger, "You're not allowed to look, because you're partyless and broke. Learn your place."

He tossed a flushed coin wallet on the table, and it jingled.

She cocked an eyebrow and stared at the bag. Curiosity compelled her to check, so she dragged the coin wallet closer and peeked. Somehow, Erik earned a lot more money than her. If he worked, then he did so because he wanted to, and Rabecca entertained the idea Erik threw the wallet to proposition her. She squashed the idea because she'd decline. One night stands weren't her plan, so she cinched the strap and slid it back. It had to be one of his standoffish flirts again, anyway. "How?"

"Between the merc contract and solo-delving, I'm making a killing."

She rolled her eyes, partly because his recklessness annoyed her, and partly to avoid glancing at the bag again. He didn't pick it up. "That's reckless, you know better than to solo-delve."

"Yeah, well, it's a little different for pretty little mages than for rugged hardworking scouts. Mages are kept protected, but scouts are forced to trust the party not to screw up or ditch us. The yokels here, well, I'm being nice when I say they work on pure enthusiasm."

"You know, it's not so easy for those so-called pretty little women," Rabecca emphasized the last word, "to find hardworking men they can trust, either."

Alarm bells sounded off in her head. She realized her blunder after the words, spoken in ire, flew from her mouth. He trapped her.

With the party 'Resurrection' disbanded, Adem, rejected, returned to the capital, alone. She discarded her meal ticket. When she calculated it in terms of marriage prospects, Adem's potential as an unseated nobleman tantalized her. All she needed to contribute was one or two children. Yet, when she compared her icy association with Adem to Elin's and Walter's warmer relationship, she wanted to claw Adem's face. She almost ignored the hints he took things too personally. Would the bedroom be different from the barn? Unlikely. She resolved at the Mage's University not to trade a household for that kind of discomfort, and it took Walter and Elin to remind her.

Rabecca wanted a clean break from the party, and Erik, the bastard, snared her. Erik and Duan bore no fault of Adem's. Being turned down by a woman he didn't care about wouldn't humiliate him or hinder his standing, tentative arrangements like theirs formed and broke often. However, if Resurrection remained after his departure, Adem would interpret it as stolen honor, and proud men licked their wounds for a long time.

Don't say it. Erik smiled, "Then let's party--" Damn it.

"--Have you heard from Duan? Is he here?"

Erik shrugged, "We're not in touch, but, rumor has it, he quit the Adventurer's Guild and petitioned for bondservice."

"That's surprising. Who would contract a druid? For whom?"

Erik passed her a rolled poster, without one iota of hesitation. First, the wallet, and now this. How well-planned is this trap? I thought you were another brainless philanderer, but you're dangerous. I'll have to defend myself seriously now. She unrolled the sheet, flattened it on the tabletop, and scanned it: Lord Walter and Lady Elin requested interviews. Rabecca chewed her polished thumbnail.

"They hold property on the outskirts, and they want to develop it. While further from the city, considering their power, well, it's safer than most places. But, as you know, they can't contract adventurers. Since he and Walter were on good terms, he asked to be their woodsman."

Her hand dropped from her mouth, "Isn't Lady Elin a devout follower of Gaia? She allowed it?"

"Her temple-going seems to be a grey area now, and you remember how much sway Walter had over her. Besides, they weren't talkative, but Elin didn't dislike Duan. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

"I'm tempted, I won't deny it at all," Rabecca's voice trailed off as plotting overshadowed her mind, and she floated through the fog of fantasy. She sipped and sipped again. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs. No one contested Lord Walter's status as the premier man, no, nobleman, in the whole of Wilmand Kingdom, and the exact same described Lady Elin. King Wilhelm Tacticus II, Queen Vixandra, their children, and a half-a-dozen seated noblemen could claim otherwise--insofar as Walter and Elin allowed them to. Being his wife, his mistress, or birthing his bastard child after a one-night stand, would raise a woman's status higher than years of adventuring. All Rabecca needed to do is jiggle her boobs and reach down Walter's pants. A mischievous smile pulled her lips apart. I have something all the other women do not, I have a way into his bedroom--

--Damn it. No, I don't.

The fantasy-laden fog turned into parade-ruining rain. Lady Elin disliked her. Rabecca started a feminine feud with her because of Walter, to steal any magic secrets she might glean, and, vitally, because he seemed kind and loyal. It upset her. Rabecca concluded Lady Elin hooked Lord Walter because she arrived first. If he met her first, then Walter would love Rabecca instead. Her looks didn't lose because they were lesser, she was late. Gaiatic wives took their monogamy far more earnestly than others, even over the other religions, for the sake of their children, so much so they influenced laws. Stealing Gaiatic husbands created life-long enemies, too.

"Wait, what deity does Walter patron?" she asked.

"No clue, he never mentioned it."

If Walter isn't a follower of Gaia, then isn't that an implicit admission on her part sharing isn't off the table? Wait, this is so simple. I should seduce her before him. I don't prefer women to men, but she'll be tasty. All I need is to sign onto their land charter, but how? I need their trust, initially, or a voucher--

--Oh, you devious shit. Is this your plan, Erik?

"It's impossible," she lamented with a practiced tone. She reclined, but kept her back arched, and only touched her chair with the tops of her shoulders. The fabric of her coat tightened over her bulging chest, and, after Erik noticed, she unbuttoned. "Getting warm. I don't know, I mean, look, Duan's friendship with Walter worked out, and even you were on good terms, but I didn't get along with Lady Elin. If she let me sign the charter, then I'd be, at best, the main house's maid, and that work is beneath me. At worst? I'd be a water-maid."

He unlocked his eyes from her chest and glanced at the hall. "She needs to see you're not a problem. Out of curiosity, what if she were a Disciple of Venus?"

This is too much. You put out the rope to entangle me, and then show me a juicy bait, knowing I'd gladly jump into your snare, anyway. I guess the question is, 'Which one of us ends up on top?' You tested the waters and tossed out a line, so I'll nibble your bait, but I won't swallow your hook, just yet.

Rabecca's grin stretched from cheek to cheek, "We wouldn't be having a discussion. I'd be in their bed already."

"Wait, both of them? At the same time?"

And there it is, you asked without asking, and worked me up. How sneaky. Two can play this game, so I'll embellish a tiny bit and counterattack.

"And whoever else they invited, whichever way they asked me to. No, if they demanded, even, a good little pet. I'd be stupid not to join Walter's harem, or hers if she wanted me. Too bad that's not their thing."

"That's kinky. Didn't know you would compromise that far."

"That's realistic," she sighed, "I do not want to risk fighting monsters and suffer feedback injuries one day longer than I have to. Without a doubt, I'm not the only woman plotting to sneak onto their property. They're going to make it, and anyone they keep will make it, too. If pleasing them is what it takes, then that's a small price, but you knew that already."

He winked. "As expected of a Disciple of Venus."

"Aphrodite, and don't mock me, you blonde bastard. Yes, like a Venusian, I'll exchange a secure future with my body, but, don't confuse yourself, I'm picky. Do I look like a cheap trinket you can toss a little silver at? I'm not an elf, I have to be earned! Besides, you would seduce Lady Elin, given half the chance."

"Well, you're not wrong."

Rabecca downed the rest of her tea and ignored the pain in the back of her throat. Heat flushed her face. "Anyway, enough talk about impossible things. You mentioned partying up?"

Alright. Let's see if you have the balls to put your plan into motion, Mr. Philanderer.