The study that Rendrick took as his own to use for the interviews for Porter typified his father. Solid stone floor, constructed through magic, large stone bricks setting the walls, thick old wood shelving housing books on magic. The only point of leisure in the room was the uncushioned solid wood chair behind the large oak desk. Situated behind the imposing wood construct, hands gently resting on the table top, Rendrick did not speak and only nodded at Telor to see in the next applicant.

Opening the thick iron and wood door Telor gestured the next applicant in. Short and curvy with a strong athletic build, the young lady passed the others waiting in line down the hall and entered then closed the door behind her. With a small bobbing bow, a nod of her head to Rendrick, the young lady walked forward towards the seat situated directly in front of the young mage.

Curtsying towards Rendrick again the dark-haired beauty suddenly lunged forward from her curtsy, her hand whipping a throwing knife directly towards Rendrick’s head. Without pause, the young lady pulled a small knife from her sleeve and jumped across the desk only to meet Talor’s blade head on. The thrown knife passed directly through Rendrick’s head as if a stone through water, only a tiny ripple in the illusion of the young mage telling the tale of its existence.

The following fight between Telor and the young assassin was quick and bloody, youth versus cunning, experience, and a prepared trap. The assassin was dead in very short order. A large steel-clad door pushed through the illusion of the solid stone wall on the far side of the room and let in two slaves who quickly removed the body and cleaned the blood from the room. The use of rose scented water clearing the coppery smell of blood and death.

The illusion planted squarely behind the desk turned toward Telor and asked, “So, what is that? Twenty-three assassination attempts today? Do you think any of the applicants are actually real?”

Still wiping his blade clean Rendrick’s Man-At-Arms chuckled, “My lord, these are the stupid assassins or the ones forced under slave contract. These are the ones who never noticed that no one left the room, but that the room only had one entrance. We will have to whittle the list down for a while before we find the real applicants. You’re in a battle for your life here, gain power or die, these are the ones being thrown away just to test the waters.”

The image of Rendrick sighed and reached away from his table then made the motion of drinking, the cup hidden somewhere in another room, invisible to the illusion gem embedded in the office table. Rendrick thought back to when his father, his master, told him of the security precautions and his thoughts on it being paranoid; now he considered them being perhaps too simple.

After setting the invisible cup down the illusionary projection of Rendrick continued, “I just wish there was a way to filter out the assassins from the applicants without the bloodshed.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Any of them’s that come from a foreign area and are lithe and strong, muscular but not bulky? Those are probably assassins. The slight and pretty ones which wait? Those ones will be assassins who are hopin’ to avoid being slave contracted, they will wait till right before the contracting to try and kill you, maybe hope to seduce you beforehand,” said Telor as he returned his now cleaned sword to his scabbard.

“If you can identify them, why don’t you remove them from the list?” asked Rendrick hesitantly.

“If you see a wasp nest, you kill the wasps, you don’t just let them sit there because they ain’t trying to sting you at that particular moment,” with a snort Telor continued, “Huh, I got a skill up both in teaching and spycraft from explaining that.”

It was a deep philosophical discussion if a skill level was descriptive or prescriptive. That is to say, did a skill level simply say what you were capable of or did it determine the limits of what you could do? Both camps agreed though that when a skill-up occurred, it was an indicator of something important and that it should be considered carefully, with more effort revolving in the same area. Pointing out his skill-ups, a pair of them, indicated pretty clearly that Telor knew what he was talking about.

“Very well, but select one that you think is a real applicant. I’m getting weary of the killing, let’s see some progress,” Rendrick said attempting to match his fathers arrogantly commanding tone but sounding far more uncomfortable and a bit queasy.

Shortly afterward, Telor directed a young woman into the room. Her broad and stocky body was hunched forward, her arms tightly clasped around her elbows. Head down the young woman made her way to the unclaimed chair in the center of the room. Her clothing was rough homespun, tan without dye or embellishment, her shoes simple leather soles sewn with straps. After slowly lowering herself into the chair she made a small ‘mep!’ sound and quickly rose, only to give a quick curtsy and then plunked herself back into the chair.

For a short moment of silence, Rendrick considered the differences between the previous assassins and the current applicant, the contrast clearly explaining how Telor could identify them.

“What is your name?” began Telor.

“Meddy my Lord,” came the rough and whispered words from the young lady.

“I’m not a Lord girl, I’m a servant just like you want to become, look at the mage if you are going to be saying that.”

Slowly lowering her arms, Meddy clasped her hands together and started to wring her hands as she worked to raise her face past the waterfall of her hair. The face so shown matched the body of the girl, broad and rough, with wide square teeth. With a deep breath, the girl seemed to come to some decision and straightened up and looked Rendrick directly in the eye.

“I’m an orphan and half-dwarf my lord, no one will hire me to work in a house or home. I can’t apprentice anywhere for any trade, my only real option is to work some mine somewhere and get paid less to do it. I would rather be a high regard slave, one that can’t be excused. A Porter of a mage’s house is never let go, I could end up working as the tower’s chef, or maybe work the stables, or head maid, or...or um…” with that the girls head dipped down and almost whispered as she continued, “you could have me as a concubine,” then with a bit of hurry in her voice, “or something else, but you won’t get rid of me and I can live a better life.”

Without a flinch, to the heartrending tale, Telor continued, “Why should you be hired? We know why you want him to hire you, but you haven’t yet said why he should want to hire you?”

With a slight bite of her lip, an expression which proved how young the lady was, she continued, “Um, I’m half dwarf, so I’m strong, I know a Porter carries the food and stuff into the dungeon, I can carry more than any of those little ones out in the hall,” so saying her broad mouth quirked up into a slightly smug smile.

“This is Arch-Magus Voren’s son, you know, the only enchanter capable of making dimensional bags? The man could carry a year's worth of supplies in a small backpack himself. He is only following the Porter tradition to keep the other mages from thinking he is going to cause waves like his dad did when he came to power.”

With this pronouncement the young woman curled up again on her self, her arms crossed again and clasping her elbows. Her head dipped as her hair covered her face. Telor’s face never changed as he watched the woman's dreams be crushed.

Rendrick spoke out, interrupting the questioning, “What more can you do? Since the role of Porter is mostly tradition, it means I could use someone with other skills besides just a stout back.”

Without looking up beyond her hair Meddy answered, “My lord, I know stone like the rest of my kin, and my attunement is metal so I can sense if something is a true prize or just coated pot metal, no coin will enter your purse that is just plating.”

Glancing at each other the two men nodded, Rendrick then gestured to lead the girl out. Once the young girl had left the room they began to discuss the most recent applicant.

“She has potential my lord, a bit shy and wilting, but you should have that for your first concubine,” Telor said while smirking at the obviously blushing mage.

Quickly Rendrick snapped his hand out in a wave as if to cut off the discussion, “I know why the slavery system exists, and I understand it’s a necessity, but let’s not be crude here. I won’t be ordering anyone into my bed.”

“Oh, I don’t think you will need to be ordering her. I would just worry that she will be angry when she figures out the young man in her head and in her bed ain't the same thing. Though being the shining prince who saves her will get her on your side. It’s always better to have willing slaves then unwilling, never mind what the contract enforces.”

Their discussion then devolved into talks about what a strong Porter like Meddy would be able to provide. While it was true that a weight reduction dimensional bag could be carried by either Rendrick or his Defender, having another carry the load was safer for both, with the extra capabilities of Meddy they could consider carrying around repair gear, better sleeping equipment, and even secondary armaments. She wasn’t the only applicant they would be considering today, but her attunement and racial skill with stone were both interesting bonuses to consider.

Once Rendrick’s team had made it far enough into the dungeon to be safe from outside attack it was his plan to consider trying to purify another source, his Defenders earth attunement would help by providing a ‘taste’ of that mana type, but the far rarer metal source would be a nice addition instead.

There was, unfortunately, a downside to contracting Meddy, her half-breed status would be another slap at tradition when most mages focused on human supremacy against the older races. It wasn’t actually against any rules or even truly against tradition, but for those mages looking for an excuse to attack it would be enough. None cared what your Defender was, they were usually seen as dumb weapons of war or defense, but a mage's Porter was usually the first among firsts within their eventual tower.

When it came down to it though at the end of the day Rendrick just preferred Meddy, she was shy and respectful but had a bit of fire when it was needed, but more he was a sucker for someone who was pushed by circumstance to do something hard and dangerous to succeed. She reminded him of himself, circumstances demanded success or death and he was going to give her the chance.