The Magistrate and the Knight Commander jerked back. The Steward retreated. Both the guards standing behind where James was seated, to their credit, leapt into action. They had blades to James' throat before he finished processing what the Head Priest had said.

Suero cursed in his mind for not coming armed.

"Don't move!" shouted one of the guards.

James, for his part, sat very, very still.

The Head Priest, belatedly, retreated behind the wooden banister towards the back of the room with the Lord Magistrate and the Knight Commander. When he arrived, the Magistrate grabbed his robes.

"What's your sum?!" he demanded with bloodshot eyes.

"It's twenty-seven, my Lord!"

Suero turned to the Magistrate. "If he's the Smith who made that armor, his level in Smith must be quite low. That means he's got some twenty levels in his other class."

The implication was obvious.

Twenty or more levels in an unknown combat class.

Suero's own Knight class was level fourteen. And that was above average compared to his peers.

The Steward approached with calm footsteps, having observed the room for nearly a minute.

"M'lord," he whispered, "the boy hasn't moved. Look at him."

Suero, as well as the Magistrate and the Head Priest, turned back to look at the blonde young man. He sat perfectly still, like a statue.

But sweat was pouring down his face like he'd just had a devil pepper shoved in his mouth.

"What says your [Danger Sense], m'lord?"

Suero paused, then grunted. "Nothing." He turned to the Magistrate and the Head Priest, who also had been checking their feelings from their own Skills. "My [Danger Sense] has reached level twelve. And now that I think about it, ever since we got that hammer out of the boy's hand, he's felt less threatening than even our Maid in the barracks."

The Magistrate narrowed his eyes at the Aspirant Knight. "And how is that possible?!" A vein pulsed in his forehead.

It was the Head Priest who spoke next. "Shall I just ask him, then?"

The three men turned to him. "If he consents, I can check his Classes and Skills fully."

"Truly?" Suero asked.

"But he swore that damn oath," the Magistrate spat.

The Steward, though he retained his poise and looked as unflappable as ever, was getting nervous. His Lord's investment in the mystery boy was looking as though it would slip through his fingers. With a servant's quiet but heroic courage, he volunteered.

"With your leave, sirs, I'll ask him."

The Magistrate and Knight shared a glance, then nodded. They remained with the Head Priest in the back of the room, and the Steward boldly stepped forward alone.

"James," he said from the other side of the banister, "what is the sum of the levels of your Classes?"

James' eyes unfocused momentarily, and then he responded with a raspy, tense voice.

"Thirty-two."

The Steward's face tightened. "And will you consent to the Head Priest's inspection of your Classes?"

James swallowed thickly.

"Yes."

James was disturbingly aware of precisely how sharp the blades at his throat were.

He had severely underestimated how nervous the Magistrate was.

The Head Priest returned, with the Knight Commander close at his side. Tension rose in the air as the lights once again dimmed, and James felt a pressure on his soul. This continued for a minute, the Head Priest's expression one of utter focus, but the Knight Commander's face grew tighter and tighter as time passed, his hand on the Head Priest's shoulder, ready to jerk him back and away at any moment.

James endured it.

Finally, the light in the room returned to normal, and the Head Priest breathed a sigh of relief, tension flooding out from his body.

"Ah… I see now," he said, his kindly tone returning along with his jolly expression, though he seemed fatigued. He turned to James directly. "This is the sort of thing you'd want to keep quiet, eh?"

The Knight Commander's hand on the Head Priest's shoulder tightened, but the Head Priest covered that hand with his own. "Let's return to the Magistrate. The boy is no threat."

"His Classes?" the Knight pressed.

"Not for the guards' ears, I'd imagine. Come, come." He patted the Knight's hand, turned, and walked back to the back of the room.

The Knight glanced down at James, who still hadn't moved, then looked at the guards. "Stay alert," he ordered. "Yes, sir!" they responded, the blades not moving the slightest bit from James' throat.

It was a tense few minutes while the the four men in the back of the room conversed in total silence, the Head Priest having waved his hands and through some Skill, ensured they wouldn't be overheard.

Finally, the Magistrate, Knight Commander, and Head Priest returned and took their seats in the front, the Head Priest on the Magistrate's left. The Steward moved to the desk at which James sat.

The Magistrate, looking much relieved, waved his hands at the guards.

"At ease, guards. Clear the room. Sebastian will relieve you."

There was a momentary pause before James saw the Knight Commander nod, and then the blades were withdrawn from his throat.

He still didn't move a muscle.

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But he heard the clomping of boots on wood floor, and the sound of a door opening and then closing.

The Head Priest waved his hands, and a Skill settled over them all.

"It is done, my Lord," the Head Priest said to the Magistrate, "none shall overhear the rest of the trial."

"Very good," the Magistrate replied.

The Knight's face remained unreadable.

"Now, Smith James. Tell us how you came to possess the Bag of Holding."

James took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and told his story.

Of his abduction, and how he was enslaved.

When he got to the part about the monster attack, there were incredulous questions, but James answered as best he could, and the Head Priest confirmed that he spoke true.

The Knight Commander, now taking notes about the slave camp, interjected.

"And this slave camp was eradicated at the start of winter?"

"Er, most likely not this last winter," James responded.

The incredulous questions came more frequently as he spoke of the Dungeon. He avoided saying anything about his Enchanter Class, but he could see that the men understood he wasn't just forging his equipment as he crafted it.

"So it just broke into the mine on this mountain-top? One scoured by dragonfire?"

"And you just ate the monster meat?"

"Not a single trap? And you're sure it was a Dungeon?"

"You mean to say you recreated the warding stakes through trial and error? Preposterous."

"You didn't think to escape the Dungeon until then?"

"Wait, wait a moment, you crafted a helmet to blind yourself? And that worked?"

The Head Priest narrowed his eyes as James avoided the topic of the Holy Beasts, but didn't push the issue.

"So you never reached the bottom of the Dungeon, but there were two staircases to ascend from that floor?"

"And the last thing you remember clearly is slaying the stone golem?"

The Magistrate leaned back, pondering the incredible story. The Head Priest stroked his chin, looking intrigued. The Knight Commander finished some notes of his own, then sat back.

The Steward, standing in front of James and slightly to the side, glanced down at James' notes then back to his face. "Is there anything else you have to say, Smith James?"

James gulped, and gathered his courage.

"Yes. I would like the contents of the magic bag returned to me. I gathered them, I crafted the armor and weapons, and no one else has claim to them."

He looked the Steward in the eye.

"Noted," came the lazy reply from the Magistrate. The wigged man turned to the Knight next to him.

"I want him."

Suero smiled tightly. "Then I must insist on restitution for my Elixir, plus my labors in rescuing this poor victim of circumstance."

The Magistrate grimaced. "How much?"

"The last Elixir that went up for auction sold for fifty thousand gold dollars," the Steward volunteered.

"Plus," the Knight continued, "I will be transferring back to the Capital next week, so I would need this debt between myself and James here settled before then." His grin widened. "Surely you don't have so much coin simply lying around, do you?"

The Magistrate ground his teeth. "Fine." He turned to James, and cleared his throat.

"Ahem. Smith James, this Court does find you guilty of assault on the Knight Commander, but due to the mitigating circumstances, the sentence will be determined by the Knight Commander himself."

The Knight smiled magnanimously. James gulped. "I apologize for anything I may have done to sir Knight," he said. "Your apology is accepted, young man, and I think we can leave it at that."

James sighed with relief. But it was short lived.

"There is now the matter of the Smith's rescue and life-debt," the Magistrate continued. "This Court finds that, having saved the life of Smith James at the cost of a precious Elixir, Smith James is required to repay this debt with coin or service."

James grimaced. "Er, your Lordship, how much coin, exactly…?"

"Given the value of the Elixir, one hundred thousand gold dollars."

"One hundred thousand! But, your Lordship, it was fifty—"

"One hundred thousand," the Magistrate repeated. "You were on the brink of death, and had just assaulted the Knight Commander, and he was under no obligation to use his Elixir on you. No amount of money could have bought an Elixir under those circumstances. You owe your life to the Knight Commander, and you should feel nothing but gratitude."

James flinched, then nodded. He turned to the Knight. The Magistrate was right, his life had been saved. "Thank you again, sir Knight."

Suero nodded in acknowledgment. This trial was finally back on track.

And then the Smith turned back to the Magistrate.

"And the term of service?"

The Magistrate frowned.

"...Your Lordship," the Smith amended.

The Magistrate, still piqued that such a prize was going to get away, smirked.

"Hmmm, the terms of such a life-debt to a noble are traditionally a lifetime of service, or until such time as you save the life of the one who saved your own…" his smile widened just the slightest bit, "But seeing as you are a foreigner, and unfamiliar with the traditions of our land, and that we have the Head Priest here already, let us draw up a contract so that you fully understand the terms of your service."

The Knight Commander frowned.

The Steward sighed quietly.

The Head Priest's stomach growled.

After a recess for lunch, and a period of negotiation between the Magistrate and the Smith, the terms of the Smith's indentured servitude were decided.

A life-debt, valued at one hundred thousand gold dollars, to be repaid either in coin or traditionally, with a lifetime of service or the saving of the Knight Commander's life.

The contents of the Bag of Holding were to be recognized as the Smith's property, but were to be auctioned off by the Merchant's Guild of Cordova, the capital of Iberteria, and overseen by an executive of the Merchant's Guild. The proceeds of the auction would go towards James' monetary debt. Contents of the Bag of Holding that weren't monster materials, collected materials, or crafted items that James described were to be considered property of the Royal Family, the rightful owners of the Bag of Holding.

James was to be considered a retainer of the Knight Commander, with all the rights and responsibilities that implied. The Steward, Sebastian, would be responsible for educating James in the matters of being a retainer.

Items that James produced while a retainer could be sold, but the Knight Commander would have first right of refusal, and eighty percent of all proceeds less material costs from sales would be the Knight Commander's. James could keep only twenty percent of the proceeds from crafting and selling items. The remaining eighty percent would go towards his debt.

The Magistrate also extended a standing invitation to James, to return to the county of Corto if or when he repaid his debt to the Aspirant Knight, and work as a Smith for the Count of Corto.

The Aspirant Knight narrowed his eyes at the Magistrate, but held his tongue.

On the matter of the stolen Bag of Holding, James was found innocent of theft, but as he had made no effort to return the Artifact to its rightful owner, he was not awarded any merit.

That he had been trapped in a Dungeon, fighting for his life to the brink of death, was considered immaterial.

And so it was that the Smith was indentured to the service of the Aspirant Knight, some two years after his Choosing Day.

Author's note: One hundred thousand gold dollars in the Smith's time is roughly the equivalent of six hundred fifty thousand Imperial donner-marks.

Editor's note: At time of publication, the sum is equivalent to three hundred forty-five thousand standard guilders. It is estimated by historians today that a Smith's typical annual wage in Cordova in the Smith's time was less than fifty gold dollars. A typical Enchanter's annual wage was higher, in the range of one to two hundred gold dollars per year.

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