Jezu was another goblin, except of the species that pierced themselves. She hunched over a too small writing desk meant for a human. The quill in her hand, which was made of some kind of white stone, moved so fast over the page that it blurred.

  “Jezu! I’ve got some adventurers looking to sell themselves!” Zoh said cheerfully, her voice still barely above a whisper.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ellen wince when Zoh said we wanted to sell ourselves.

  “What tier, and how long do you wish to remain under contract?” Jezu asked with the same clinical boredom the admin back at the orphanage used.

  Unlike Zoh, who spoke the Trade Tongue with almost no accent, and the aranae guard from earlier who spoke with a fairly heavy accent, Jezu’s was dense. She took her time with each word, chewing on the syllables before they were distasteful and spitting them out.

  Nora gave Jezu the same answer we always seemed to give, and Jezu wrote them down without comment.

  “Names, and name of party if applicable.”

  “We don’t have a party name yet.” Nora said, shrinking back into herself slightly. “But our names are Nora of Woodsedge, Ellen Smallbard, Mika Hillhome, and Bran of the Cult of Weeping Grace.”

  When Nora said her name, Jezu looked up from her desk and briefly titled her head before she looked back down to her work

  “It’s been a couple of years since someone from Woodsedge signed up.” She said, speaking into the pages of the book.

  “Really?”

  Nora and Jezu spent a few minutes small talking. Jezu had an interest in humans and tried to learn what she could from everyone who passed through this door. Together the pair talked about the habits of humans, mostly where adventurers signed up from. ‘Shockingly’ most of the people who signed up without a last name claimed to be from Dustreach.

  In the middle of their conversation, which had migrated to what jobs were most common for a human to take, Jezu received some kind of unnoticed alert. Her eyes raised for a second as she listened, and without the grey of her iris, the veins in her eyes stuck out almost sickly. Once she flicked her eyes back down, Jezu made one more note in her book before she spoke.

  “I am sorry to cut this conversation short, but if you would just enter through this door. An [Appraiser] will be right out.”

  The room we entered was a richly appointed waiting room. Placed evenly throughout were ten stone chairs, each of which inlaid with cubic swirls of gold and silver. A cushioned seat made of the same material the aranae built their spires from on each. Around the room were tapestries made from the same silk-like material and dyed to depict human adventurers committing acts of bravery and valor against goblins or aranae.

  We didn’t have to wait longer than a couple of minutes before the door opened and two aranae women entered. The first woman to enter was another of the tailed variety, her frame filling the entire doorway. She looked similar enough to the woman we first spoke to that I would’ve bet money on the pair being related somehow.

  Unlike the woman we encountered in the outskirts, the woman before us equipped herself in full plate armor on her human-like torso. While she draped the entity of her spider half in a thick gambeson. In her left she wielded a massive tower shield, large enough to cover her from floor to chin. In her other hand, she had a pike that on her frame amounted only to a large spear.

  With slow, almost mechanical movements, the large woman took up a space next to the door and made way for a new variety of aranae to enter. The woman who approached had the same body plan as her guard, except with two heads. Each head had a neck connected to a very broad set of shoulders, and she lacked a tail. The woman held herself with an air of prim aloofness and walked with the same easy arrogance I associated with the kids who’d been selected for Ylena’s clergy but hadn’t yet undergone their trials.

  Unlike her guard, whose every step echoed out into the room with the thunderous clap of metal slamming into metal. This woman moved so quietly as to be silent. I doubt that if the room hadn’t been quiet enough to hear a pen drop, I wouldn’t have heard her feet as they hit the ground.

  As the woman stepped into the center of the room, I noticed they arranged all the chairs so she’d be at the center of attention when she stepped forward like this. I felt a shiver flow down my spine as both her heads moved independently to take our measure. Her right head stopped on Nora while the left passed straight over her. The inverse happened to Ellen. The heads looked like twins and shared the same features.

  I would have thought one vestigial or a quirk of evolution or creation if not for the fact both faces displayed a very different personality. The head on the right had her chin held high, looking down at us past her nose -disinterest writ large across her features. While the head on the left portrayed herself as far humbler, her features placid and accepting as a still lake.

  Avoiding eye contact with the woman, or perhaps women, was easy. All I had to do was look at the gap between their heads, which allowed me to take in their features without subjecting myself to twin gazes.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The women allowed the silence between our groups to loom, and Nora was the first to break the air. She stood, introduced herself and us as we stood to follow her. Maggie was the only one to introduce herself, and rather than give her name, she limited it to ‘Steward’.

  “Excellent. My name is Arnhild of clan Kolstad, and behind me is Helga of clan Elden. Before you ask, I am a singular being. I will say no more on the matter. Now, I was led to believe you wish to sign up for the tier two auction with a contract length of three weeks. Correct?”

  “Yes ma’am.” Nora replied.

  “Very well. I ask that you follow me to the appraising chamber.”

  Arnhild turned and left as soon as she finished speaking, Helga following. Neither waited for us or said a word as they did so. We made to follow them in a hurry, each of us except Maggie in a rush to put our packs back on as we moved.

  The Appraising Chamber was a basement level room close in size to the Adventurer Guild’s training yards I’d seen. Hung from the ceiling were more tapestries of human acts of bravery and mounted down the wall were various bone trophies similar to the ones I’d seen lining the entrances to goblin homes.

  “Alright children.” Arnhild’s left head said. “Helga is going to stand in the center of the chamber, and each of you will attempt to harm her to the best of your abilities. After all four of you have made attempts, you will have an hour to rest before you attack once more as a group.”

  Arnhild waited until each of us, including Maggie, told her we understood before she continued.

  “Keep in mind that this is your attempt to display your talents so that you may be assigned a higher starting bid. Helga is not here to prove her superiority, as that is unquestionable.”

  Arnhild’s claim made me look to Maggie, the highest tier amongst us. Maggie read my look somehow and held up six fingers, which I took to be Helga’s tier. The same tier my mom would admit to being in public.

  “Therefore, Helga will remain primarily on the defensive. Now, in which order would you like to present yourselves?”

  Mika was the first to volunteer himself, followed by Nora and Ellen. Leaving me the last of the lineup.

  Once we got settled, Arnhild pointed at Mika and motioned him towards Helga, who raised her shield. Even the five percent of her body that was not covered by the shield was protected by thick plate and easily moved to be behind the massive metal shield.

  Mika didn’t charge the woman, however, or fire a spell. Instead, he placed down his bag and pulled out three golems. Two of which had survived the warehouse fight and third was one he’d just started during our week of rest.

  His newest golem lacked in artistry compared to his remaining two. Its only discernable features being the fresh runes and its limbs. Compared to the finely carved originals he’d started the campaign with, it looked almost sloppy. I’d asked him about it on our sixth day of rest when I saw him practicing with it in the training yard. He’d told me it was a rush job and while not his finest work as a [Sculptor], it would do fine in combat.

  We all watched expectantly as Mika stretched out the joints on his new golem, small flakes of stone chipping off as the limbs and torso rubbed together. He put the golem through an entire stretching routine that lasted two minutes before he stopped and turned to Arnhild.

  “If I had a couple of days, I could create more, and I can pilot up to five at a time. However, that many will strain my mana if I use them too extensively.”

  Arnhild didn’t reply and both her heads just cast their eyes to Helga’s still form.

  Mika took the gesture for what it was and sent all three of his golems at the woman in a pincer formation. His newest creation ran straight at Helga while his other two flanked around to either side. Helga braced her shield to face the one charging right at her, and I watched in amazement as her tail flashed to either side, lightning quick. Keeping both constructs at bay without ever looking at them.

  As Mika’s golems tried unsuccessfully to get past her, I marveled at how well she was doing, at not damaging any of them. She did so well keeping them from her that I noticed the exact moment she let them through. Helga ‘fell’ for a clumsy feint from two of his golems and overextended her shield towards her spear hand, which let the center golem approach. She also ‘fell’ for a false charge from one golem at her side and sent her tail over to stop it, which allowed the real charge through. Mika used the gap to have both golems climb up onto Helga, their claws latching onto the gambeson caparison.

  Mika sent both golems to the base of her tail, where they tried to stab their claws into the space between carapace plates. While the golems found no purchase, Helga tried to swipe them from her back with her tail, but it looked like a lack of flexibly stopped her from being able to do so. I was pretty sure this was just another thing she was allowing Mika to do to show off, because I’d never known anyone above tier five with any kind of mobility issue.

  After too long Mika realized he was making no progress and moved onto other parts of her body, where again nothing he did could get past the combination of gambeson and carapace. Arnhild let the fight continue for another five minutes, Helga continuously making slight mistakes that Mika sometimes managed to capitalize on.

  “That is enough, thank you Mr. Hillhome. Nora of Woodsedge, I believe it is your turn.” Arnhild called, ending the fight without giving any of her thoughts away on either face.

  Nora barely waited for Mika to withdraw his golems before she began. A continuous stream of attack spells rained down on Helga. Each spell had a different target, and each spell was expertly blocked. Helga wasted no movement, always moving just enough to get her shield in the right spot. It was a masterclass on shield work that relied heavily on the way she could adjust her posture by bending some of her spider legs.

  Only after forty seconds of sustained spells water dripped continuously down Helga’s shield to form a small puddle, did Nora stop and switch to her mist spell.

  Mist drifted in from the walls, any moisture there ripped away from the stone, and the puddle at Helga’s feet evaporated into a low fog. It took her a minute before she had enough to work with, longer than it took her in the warehouse. Once the room was covered in a knee-high mist that rippled like the sea, I saw various shapes move beneath the surface.

  Her spell constructs left trails in their wake as they circled. Dozens of forms moved and from beside me I heard Nora panting, the sound loud in the near silent room. I turned and saw concern flash over her face before she quickly controlled it. After another thirty seconds of circling, Nora sent all the constructs in a direct line at Helga.

  The only thing the woman had done up to this was to swipe her shield through the mist. Which briefly displaced it and caused Nora to let out a little gasp of effort before it filled right back in. Now, as she watched all the forms dart towards her, the only thing the woman did was brace her knees slightly.

  Nora kept up a sustained assault for three minutes. The only time her constructs would disengage was to build their speed back in the mists before they charged again.

  “Thank you. Miss Smallbard, if you would?” Arnhild asked as Nora’s mist dissipated.

  Unlike Nora or Mika, Ellen didn’t start with any preparation or pause to get ready. She hefted her maul from where it rested, head down on the floor, and charged the massive aranae. Her plate armor loud in the enclosed space.

  What Ellen and Helga spent the next two minutes doing, I have no way of describing other than ‘go at each other’. There was no grace, guile, or tactics from Ellen. She simply attacked the woman in front of her with a ferocity I hadn’t seen, even when our lives were on the line.

  As I watched the way Ellen was moving, I noticed something strange, likely the work of a new skill. Every time Ellen changed the direction she swung her mace, there was a slight slow down before it came to an almost dead stop and moved back the other way as if she’d just allowed the momentum to carry her forward. Which made me think she’d gained some kind of skill to help her control the heavy maul.

  Helga, by contrast, was restrained. She did nothing but block, turn away Ellen’s maul, or lightly tap her with her spear when she was too exposed. Each tap only made Ellen redouble her offense, but I knew she had no martial style guiding her movements, so it made every one of her attacks simple instinct and ferocity.

  By the end of the fight, Ellen was a storm that constantly pelted Helga. Yet Helga was like Dustreach’s walls, too massive, too sturdy, to be afflicted by something as trivial as the rain.

  “That is enough. Thank you, Miss Smallbard. Bran of the Cult of Weeping Grace, if you would.” Arnhild’s voice was calm, but there was an insistent power to it that snapped Ellen right out of her rage.