The scribe returned with measured steps, his expression carefully neutral. "The Bailiff will see you now.” He nodded at the pageboy who gave a short, nervous bow and gestured for me to follow.

  "This way, my lady."

  The title still felt ridiculous in this context. Funny, it hadn’t seemed so ridiculous when Wendel had called me that.

  He led me through a side door into a corridor lined with dark wood panelling and portraits of stern-faced men in expensive looking clothing. Dekka's claws clicked lightly against the polished stone floor, the sound echoing in the narrow space.

  At the end of the hall, the scribe knocked on a heavy oak door.

  "Enter," came the familiar voice from within.

  Bailiff Cromstead sat behind an imposing desk covered in neat stacks of documents, ledgers, and what looked like maps of the surrounding area. The room was designed to intimidate - tall windows that let in harsh light, shelves lined with thick legal tomes, and a chair positioned so visitors had to look up at him. He didn't rise when I entered, but gestured to the uncomfortable-looking wooden chair across from his desk.

  "Elizabeth," he said, his tone professionally cordial but cold. “I trust your journey was… uneventful.”

  My cracked ribs and still-drying blood said otherwise. I thought of the elk, the blood, the way Kaelen had appeared just in time with a healing potion. “There was an elk.” Was all I said.

  He blinked up at me actually taking me in. “Yes. They can be rather territorial.”

  I remained standing though I was exhausted. Dekka heavy in my arms. I didn’t want to get any of his plush embroidered chair dirty. I bet there was a fine for that. Probably for dog hair too.

  His thin lips curved into that same false smile I remembered from the festival.

  “It did seem it was displeased by my presence.”

  "Ah yes, the roads can be dangerous for the unprepared." His eyes flicked again to my torn, bloodstained clothes and back to my face. "Which brings us to why you're here. The matter of the unauthorized hunt on Lord Ashford's lands."

  "Helping neighbors with a pest problem," I corrected.

  "Indeed." He opened one of the ledgers and ran his finger down a column of entries. "Organizing a group hunt without proper permits. Use of... unconventional methods without prior approval from the appropriate authorities. Failure to register unusual creatures brought onto the Lord's lands." His eyes settled on Dekka. "The fines for such violations can be quite substantial."

  My stomach sank. "How substantial?"

  "For the violations themselves? Twenty gold crowns." He said it casually, as if it were a reasonable sum. Twenty gold crowns was probably more than most of the villagers saw in a year. "However, there's also the matter of the damage assessment."

  "Damage assessment?"

  "The disruption to the natural ecosystem. The potential impact on Lord Ashford's hunting reserves. The precedent set by allowing unauthorized groups to take matters into their own hands rather than following proper channels." He turned a page in the ledger. "I'm afraid the total comes to... let me see... sixty-five gold crowns."

  The number hit me like a physical blow. I couldn't even imagine that much money. "That's impossible. I don't have sixty-five gold crowns. Neither do the villagers."

  "I assumed as much." Cromstead leaned back in his chair, studying me with those cold eyes. "Which is why Lord Ashford, in his generosity, has authorized me to offer you an alternative."

  Here it comes, I thought. The trap. Well, the trap was probably coming here at all.

  "Lord Ashford is always in need of capable individuals to assist with various... projects. You demonstrated remarkable problem-solving skills in Scott's Hill. Initiative. The ability to motivate others to work toward a common goal." He closed the ledger with a soft thud. "Complete a service for Lord Ashford, and the fines will be forgiven entirely."

  "What kind of service?"

  "That will be discussed with Lord Ashford himself. However, I should mention that refusal to accept this generous offer would result in immediate collection proceedings. Not just against you, of course, but against the property owners who benefited from your... unauthorized pest control."

  My hands clenched into fists. "You'd go after Cecil's farm?"

  "Lord Ashford's lands, Lord Ashford's rules," Cromstead said with a shrug. "The law applies equally to all."

  I looked down at Dekka, who was watching the Bailiff with obvious distrust. Her hackles weren't raised, but I could feel the tension in her small body. She was watching him with the distaste she normally reserved for border collies and humans who refused to share their food. I wished we could release that boss mole in his office and see how worried he was about 'the law'.

  "When would I meet with Lord Ashford?" I said between gritted teeth.

  "This evening. For dinner." Cromstead stood and walked around his desk, looking me up and down with obvious distaste. "Though you'll need to make yourself... presentable first. Lord Ashford maintains certain standards for his dinner guests." His words were pleasant, but his face said I would be as welcome as a turd in my current state.

  He walked to the door and opened it, calling out to someone in the corridor. "Marcus! Please escort our guest to the Rose Chamber. See that she has access to the bath house and appropriate attire for dinner."

  A servant appeared. "This way, my lady."

  "One more thing," Cromstead said as I moved toward the door. "Your... companion will need to remain in your chambers during dinner. Lord Ashford prefers to conduct business without distractions."

  "She stays with me," I said firmly.

  "In your chambers, yes. Not at the dinner table." His tone brooked no argument. "Lord Ashford's rules, I'm afraid."

  I wanted to argue, but I could see from his expression that this wasn't negotiable. And if I refused, Cecil and his neighbors would pay the price.

  "Fine," I said through gritted teeth.

  "Splendid." Cromstead returned to his seat behind the desk, already dismissing me. "Dinner is at the eighth bell. Don't be late."

  Walking through the corridors beside the silent servant, Dekka padding along at my heels, I tried to process what had just happened. I'd been manoeuvred into exactly the position they wanted - trapped by debt I couldn't pay, forced to accept whatever "service" they had in mind.

  What was it exactly this ‘lord’ wanted? This wasn't really about permits or hunting violations. This was about me, and my dog.

  I was lead to a room where maids were filling a tub by a fire with buckets of hot water.

  I sank gratefully into it and let the aches melt away. After I scrubbed myself clean with a sponge and brush, I grabbed Dekka and had her sit in the tub with me. She wasn’t thrilled, she had a dog’s typical hatred of clean warm water, but I figured it would do her sore muscles some good and wrestled her till she seemed to understand. After a minute, she began to relax and just sat there with her eyes half closed.

  I got new clothes brought to me. These were much nicer than the ones I had gotten from Wendel. Still utilitarian, but the fabric was nicer, and there was some decorative stitching.

  Too bad, I would likely get brains on it and bleed all over it.

  A pageboy came to get me to take me to dinner. Dekka was decidedly not pleased about being left behind. Her howling echoed down the hall before I got twenty feet from the door.

  I told the pageboy to let everyone know that the howling was to be expected and that it would stop once I was reunited with my companion. I could only hope that she would annoy someone important enough so that we wouldn’t be separated again.

  The one hall we walked through had panels of mirrors along the wall. This was an overt and opulent display of luxury. These were first ones I had seen since I had arrived in the game.

  I stopped and looked in the mirror. Well there had been shiny surfaces but not full body mirror.

  I looked like me, and yet I was a stranger.

  Back in the real world, I had been pretty average, not tall nor short, not fat, not thin, not super fit, but not out of shape. I guess I was pretty enough; Rodney told me I was beautiful, but he was biased. Boys didn’t chase me, but they didn’t flee either. Just a typical college girl, one just like tens of thousands of others. Nothing special.

  But the person who looked back at me. Now she was something special.

  I still wasn’t a model by any means. But I could now get cast as an extra in Viking or a gladiator movie. Anywhere where they let women be strong. Because dayum did I look powerful.

  Standing there I flexed my muscles, ignoring the poor page who was just trying to do his job to take me to have an audience with his lord.

  Holy shit. I was kinda jacked.

  I was also taller. I had been five foot four and a bit. But now, now I had to be at least five ten.

  How had I not realised this?

  I looked down at my arms, and indeed, they weren’t my slender yet soft noodles but sculpted, tanned arms. Looking closely at my arms. I couldn’t see my freckles anymore. That was annoying. I liked being subtly spotted.

  “Ah hem” the boy coughed meaningfully. This too I ignored.

  It must look odd, me standing in a hallway making faces and flexing muscles like one of those self-absorbed gym bros. But now I kinda got it. The way my bicep now bunched and lifted was almost hypnotic.

  I turned my head to do one of those poses where you clasp your hands and tilt sideways. The one that the guys all do on the dating apps. Well, the guys who aren’t holding fish, anyway. Sometimes you get both in the same profile and could cross two for one off your Internet dating app bingo card.

  Damn girl, I was looking fine. I think even my hair was thicker. Guts and other gross bits of animal seemed to be the best hair product I had ever tried. I chuckled, imagining some influencer gushing about the latest hair product line ‘Guts and Goo’.

  The pageboy actually stomped his foot. Ok, that was enough, though I had to admit I followed him with a swagger I hadn’t had previously.

  The dining hall was a study in controlled opulence. A fireplace large enough to roast a cow dominated one wall. The other walls were covered in dark, heavy tapestries depicting grim-faced ancestors hunting various monstrous beasts.

  A single, ridiculously long table of polished black wood ran the length of the room. Long enough to seat thirty people, but tonight only three places were set - one at the head of the table, and two others positioned to face each other across the polished wood. Crystal glasses caught the light from a massive chandelier, and the smell of roasted meat and herbs filled the air.

  Lord Ashford stood as I entered, and I had to revise my expectations entirely. The spread was almost obscene when I though back to the towns in the area. Silver platters piled with roast pheasant and dripping venison, bowls of stewed fruit gleaming like jewels, spiced wine poured into crystal goblets.

  What would the peasants think about this feast? How could any steward of the land and its people object to protecting a harvest?

  At the head of the table sat Lord Ashford.

  I’d expected some puffed-up aristocrat, but he was lean, dressed in dark velvet with a silver chain across his shoulders, his sharp features framed by carefully groomed black hair. His smile, when he rose to greet me, was warm. Too warm. Like a fire you know is going to burn you if you get too close.

  “Lady Elizabeth,” he said, voice smooth as poured honey. “ You’ve caused quite the stir. I have heard tales of your cunning and bravery”

  I started a bow, and then thought maybe I should curtsy. But I was wearing pants. I ended up getting muddled and dipped into what I hoped passed for some sort of deferential greeting.

  “Mostly I just hit things with a stick until they stop moving.”

  He laughed, genuinely amused—or at least good at faking it. “Modesty is charming. Please, sit.”

  Sitting I felt a pang of worry, Dekka should have been at my feet. I hoped she was giving someone a headache.

  I took the seat he indicated, servants moving silently around us, filling wine glasses and bringing in covered dishes. My newfound swaggering confidence felt suddenly fragile in the face of such casual luxury.

  “This is my daughter, Lady Sera.” He motioned to the other figure at the table.

  The Lady just nodded her head and didn’t say anything. She had the most perfect complexion I had ever seen. Smooth and flawless like porcelain. Her dress was ridiculous. Every inch of the fabric was embroidered, bejewelled or had lace stitched to it. It seemed designed to display opulence more than good taste or style.

  Ayerelia’s player would be so jealous.

  "I understand you've had quite an adventure getting here," Lord Ashford continued, settling into his chair with easy grace. As I sat. "An elk, Cromstead mentioned?"

  "It seemed territorial," I replied, unsure of where this was going. Would I get in trouble for ‘poaching’?

  "They can be. Magnificent creatures, but dangerous when cornered." He raised his wineglass in a small toast. "To surviving dangerous encounters."

  I lifted my own glass, noting how the wine caught the light like liquid rubies. "To surviving," I agreed.

  Just as he raised his glass, a faint, mournful howl managed to echo from the hallway as a servant entered.

  Ashford's smile didn't waver. He took a slow sip of wine. "Ah. Your... companion. It sounds distressed. Tell me, is it always quite so... vocal?"

  "She doesn't like being separated from me," I said, my hand tightening on the stem of the glass.

  "A fierce loyalty. A commendable, if... inconvenient, trait." He set his glass down. "Cromstead tells me you are a 'Community Problem Solver.' And my cartographer, Kaelen, reports that you are... physically formidable."

  So, Kaelen hadn’t happened just there by luck. He had been on the road to make sure I came along. Or perhaps to spy on me.

  I swallowed a piece of venison that suddenly felt like lead. “The Bailiff mentioned something about a service.”

  “Yes.” His tone sharpened. “A task. One I cannot entrust to my soldiers or servants, for reasons you will soon understand.”

  "Tell me, Lady Elizabeth... what is a 'Player'?"

  That came out of nowhere. I met his stare, other NPCs knew, on some level what a player is. He knew so why was he asking? Was it a test?

  "It means I'm a traveller," I said, choosing my words with care. "That I... see problems, and I solve them."

  "Good." He nodded, as if I'd confirmed something and passed. "Because I have a problem that my usual... resources... cannot seem to solve. My guards are blunt instruments. My Bailiff is an administrator. I am in need of an outsider. Someone with no prior loyalties, no biases, and a proven talent for dealing with vermin."

  Oh I was about to be offered a quest. I relaxed a bit.

  "Three nights ago," Ashford said, cutting into the tiny bird on his plate with surgical precision, "my most favoured adviser, my chamberlain, a man named Julian Bergmann, was murdered."

  I paused, my fork halfway to my mouth. This was not the quest I expected. This was better!

  "He was found in the library, his throat cut," Ashford continued, his voice perfectly even. "The killer was... interrupted. They were after this."

  He reached into the pocket of his velvet waistcoat and placed a single, ornate silver key on the black table between us. It shone in the candlelight.

  "This is the only key to a private lockbox in my study. A box containing... sensitive political documents. The killer was trying to get this key from Julian, who, in his role as my attendant, often kept it for me."

  "The killer is still within these walls," he said. "My compound is secure. No one has left. It is one of my own people—a servant, a guard, perhaps even one of my... 'noble' guests."

  "You want me to find the killer," I stated. This could be fun. I always wanted to go to one of those murder mystery dinner things.

  "I want you to help me lure him out," Ashford corrected. "Tomorrow night, I am holding my seasonal Harvest Ball. I will make an announcement that Julian will be honoured. And I will display this key, under guard, as a centrepiece of the celebration."

  He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a cold, predatory light. "The killer, knowing they failed, and knowing the key is right there, will not be able to resist a second attempt. It's human nature. Greed. Desperation."

  I blinked at him. Greed and desperation were not the first things in my nature. Seemed he was telling on himself. "And what's my role?"

  "Your role is simple. You will be my honoured guest. You will mingle and be the problem solver you are claimed to be. You will watch and you will find the person who shows too much interest in that key."

  He leaned back, taking another sip of wine.

  "Do this for me. Solve my... 'mole matter'... and your sixty-five-gold-crown debt is forgotten. You will be rewarded handsomely. Fail... or... disappoint me..." He smiled. "Well. We've already discussed the fines, and the... confiscation... of unauthorized property."

  The threat was clear, wrapped in silk and delivered over a fine meal.

  "So, Lady Elizabeth," he said, raising his glass in a mock toast. He knew he had me.

  The stupid thing about all of this is that I would have volunteered for this Quest had it been offered outright.

  “Just call me Miss Marple.” I said with a grin.

  YOU HAVE ACCEPTED THE QUEST - Find the murderer!