Somewhere Someplace

“Great! Anyway…soo…now this next document right here is the…hmm…the ‘Member Detainment and Treatment Guarantee Agreement’, which stipulates that if you are—for whatever reason—detained within the confines of a direct Guild dominion—which is to say any chunk of land that the Guild has direct sovereignty over, such as one of our citadels—the Guild is obligated to ensure … ” thus the receptionist began to gleefully and enthusiastically explain away, her fingers poking and prodding at the document that had been slid before the foreigner’s bagged mask-obscured eyes.

They were in a room now, a rather small but…sufficient room. There was a straight-to-the-point yet elaborate desk in the middle, two or so windows scattered about, and cabinets near and around the desk. It was somewhat like an ‘office’ yet also…not really, for it was a space dedicated to only…moments like these.

The receptionist, after her peer had finally returned from her whatever affair, had led the foreigner down a door behind the main counter area and through a narrow hall of many other doors, while carrying the mountain of documents along with her…just barely—the foreigner had to open…the doors on her behalf when they had made way.

That was sometime ago, however; now, it had been…actually…quite frankly, the foreigner had not any the idea of how much time had passed. Time, once again, had seemingly broken down as a sensible construct. All she knew was that…she had to endure dozens upon dozens of explanations after explanations after explanations, document signing after document signing after document signing.

So much…writing…ugh. The fingers which held her quilled pen, in fact, were becoming rather sore and swollen from all of this…and yet, despite having felt as though multiple forevers had passed, only half of the documents were successfully completed. Truly…this was perhaps the most arduous task she had ever needed to do…in this place thus far.

The receptionist exhaled, her voice battered yet still enduring, her eyes visibly tired and bagged yet…her charm and enthusiasm persisting—she would not be what she was if she could not retain that persona, even when stressed and tired. “Is that all understood? Do you need me to repeat anything?” she inquired.

The foreigner’s head instantaneously shook “…no” thus mumbled out her breaths. Quite frankly, she had stopped paying attention ages ago, most of these documents and ‘agreements’ and other legalistic technical whatevers were all so…complicated, using so many fancy words that even if she did pay attention…her comprehension would not be the greatest.

All she knew…and all she cared to know…was that she simply needed to sign ‘Nilia de Relevancia’ in local spelling over and over again, in the precise manner she had been instructed to do so, whenever she was prompted to do so.

The receptionist smiled; “Great!” she exclaimed as her finger pointed at the specific line needing to be signed. The foreigner quickly did so, decisively signing her Guild name as the receptionist instantly, at speeds beyond anomalous, picked and plopped the signed document onto the mountainous stack of prior signed documents.

Afterwards, she instantly took, placed, and slid the next document onto the desk and before the eyes of the rather tired foreigner, who stared down…having been so very squeezed empty on the inside.

“Now this document right here…” the receptionist began to explain with such cheery enthusiasm…yet one that was…becoming ever-more…sadistic, “is the Member Acknowledgment of Deathly Risk Agreement, with Contemporary Amendments thirty-four dash four-B through fifty-seven dash—” she was explaining away, but “I…thought…that…I already…signed this…‘agreement’ of yours…” the foreigner interjected.

The receptionist smiled; “Oh…well, like I just said, this is the Member Acknowledgment of Deathly Risk Agreement with Contemporary Amendments, not simply the basic Member Acknowledgment of Deathly Risk Agreement; see, because of the…different eras they originated from…you have to sign each and every amended variant separately…our millennia-spanning records have to be very precise and specific, after all” she explained with rather the malevolent charm.

“Ah…I see…” the foreigner simply responded; she had nothing to really say regarding such an apparent affair besides…accepting the inescapable reality presented before her. It was not as though she was in any position to truly complain about or judge such over-complicated and bloated records, not at all…in fact. Though, nevertheless…this Guild was certainly…a very procedural and bureaucratic place…almost as if it was procedural and bureaucratic for the sake of being procedural and bureaucratic.

The foreigner, without any delay, promptly signed the agreement well before the receptionist could even finish.

“…oh hey, hey! Do not do that!” the receptionist abruptly lambasted, yanking the document away…sighing; “I understand that…you might be tired and impatient, but Guild policy only recognizes signatures after a thorough explanation of what these agreements entail—liability and whatnot: you need to understand what you are signing before signing” she explained.

The foreigner stared blankly—explanations or not, the foreigner was not understanding the majority of this anyway…thus…such was redundant. Though…likewise, if such were the necessary protocols to which the receptionist needed to adhere…then…she may as well cooperate and make her existence marginally easier; the foreigner, after all, had her own myriads of protocols to which she needed to strictly adhere…provided that she could actually…help it.

“…I give apologies” the foreigner apologized, evasively looking down somewhat in seeming embarrassed shame.

The receptionist sighed again, placing the preemptively signed document in the same stack of signed documents. “Normally…I would have to do this all over again with that document…but…it is just me in here…and I would prefer to move on, but do not do that again, please” she stated, plopping and sliding the next document onto the desk.

The foreigner simply nodded in acknowledgement; “Any the way, continue, for grace” she said.

The baggy-eyed receptionist smiled in response before promptly continuing on; “Ahem anyway…so this right here is the ‘Mutual Trust and Adherence to Quest Honesty Agreement’, which stipulates that…”

-||-

“Greatly done! And you are still alive! Fantastic!” the receptionist exclaimed in a malevolent cheer as she stacked the last bunch of signed documents and agreements and acknowledgments, placing them onto the now…gargantuan mountain of signed documents, which seemingly defied the will gravity itself as it towered above, menacingly.

The receptionist stared at the stack of signed Guild documents, dozens of millennia worth of…bureaucracy was stacked before her eyes, her sadistic smile…faded; “…now I have to…actually process all of that…oh Gods’ sacred toilet…no I will have a few lower-receptionists…help with some of the…work…” her breaths remarked somewhat quietly to herself, before returning her attention to the battered foreigner in front, who sat with gracious calm and grand patience.

The foreigner still had no idea…how much time had passed, only that time had passed.

The receptionist looked at the few documents still remaining, these documents were…different from the others, not just…things needing to be signed as much as forms needing to be filled out. She sighed with a yawn, which caused the foreigner to yawn in kind…ugh, as she took the form and evaluated it.

“Hmm…oh this…right…basic combat evaluation…basically, whether you have any…prior combat or fighting related proficiencies and other relevant details like that…this one is not truly mandatory either” she explained.

The foreigner stared…her mask hiding her bagged and tired eyes, her fingers now rather sore. “…I can…do the shooting well…I am the fast and the swift…and I can…stab and poke with the…thin-sword…thing…but I am not the…ehm…the sword person…the thin pokey sword…used for…other things…” she replied, her alien accent becoming far stronger as her ability to…well…word…began to break down.

The receptionist began to write things down into that document of hers; “So…proficiency in firearms and…rightly alrightly…” she mumbled out to herself, transcribing the foreigner’s…own words into…something more…proper and appropriate.

“And by…‘thin pokey sword’…I imagine you…meant something akin to…what?…a Far Western ‘rapier’?…if that is the right word for it?” the receptionist remarked.

The foreigner faintly nodded “…yes…” she began to reply, “I think that…that is the word for it…it sounds like so”. She was rather uncertain despite the local word for a ‘rapier’ and other related types of swords were among the first words which she had learned.

Indeed, her former associate had thought it best that she learned how to describe the…stuff, things, and…other objects of direct relevancies to her…in terms of the local tongue first and foremost before anything else. Though, such was simply the present state of tiredness: words in general were blanking her mind. Truly…she was still not used to such tired fatigue of both the body and mind.

The receptionist, nodding along, continued writing and scribing; “…alrightly and do you have any…magical prowess or related…or that is to say…do you know any arcane talents?” she inquired.

The foreigner…deliberated, her mask-obscured eyes evading away. Well…she had already exposed such affairs to the Collegium, thus there was no real point in hiding the reality of her having one anymore…and besides…that spy of a patron already knew likewise.

“Yes…” she finally responded, “there is the…uhm…foreign magic to me…it is not of these lands”.

The receptionist nodded as she scribed again; “So…I will put ‘claimed proficiency in a foreign and exotic form of magic and-slash-or arcane’ got it…” she mumbled out.

This continued back and forth as the receptionist inquired and wrote, the foreigner replying and…well…just replying. Most were rather fundamental and mundane; a profile was seemingly being constructed yet the foreigner made sure to be…as vague as possible when needed, especially since this was most certainly going into their own ‘records’.

This having been completed, the receptionist smiled away as she plopped the filled-out document onto the grand stack of completion. Now only one final document was left lingering in the once grand pile; one last document needing to be explained and signed…finally.