To Jurian Cornelisen esq.,

Thank you for your swift response. In your last missive, you mentioned the fortuitous location of your office. It is true that location is incredibly important for any business. If I am not mistaken, you were able to afford this building mostly with your earnings defending the alleged Cult of Ghalaunach. It can be surmised that you owe your success to this case. And though it was your clients that paid you, their coin originated from their devilish patron. Do you not consider it amoral to build your career on payments supplied through fiendish means?

Mind you, this is not intended as an indictment of your conduct. In your profession, questions of morality are secondary to questions of law. But we try to unite those concepts, putting ethical laws to paper. In our communications, you mostly speak in defence of the practice of Warlockry, and we were curious how you could morally justify this.

In honoured service,

Annemiek Smalbrugge

-----

To the esteemed Councilwoman Annemiek Smalbrugge,

I am glad that my ramblings so far have proven insightful. I hope the same can be said about what I am writing now. I also hope you will permit me some surprise regarding your question. Are you asking me whether it is ethical to accept payment for my services? Because if so: Yes. I need to be able to make a living from my cases, if I want to be able to continue doing this work.

But you know this. What you're really asking is 'is it ethical to accept payment from an unethical source'. And that might have been an interesting discussion, if it didn't start with a flawed premise. It seems to be based on the idea that my clients have done something 'wrong', even if they haven't done anything illegal. That in dealing with a demon, they have compromised their own morality in some way. This, I would like to dispel immediately. First by stating that not every spirit is malicious, and that it can be a complex task to differentiate between benevolent and malevolent. But secondly, I do not think my clients are in any position to be judged based on the people they treat with. Such value-judgments should be reserved for people with the privilege of options.

Imagine for me, if you will, the process of contacting a spirit. The uncertainty that comes with performing a barely understood arcane ritual. The need for secrecy born from social stigma. The terror when you first lay eyes upon the unnatural, often monstrous form of your would-be patron. These aren't things done out of idle curiosity or boredom. These acts are born out of desperation. When you are hungry, you aren't in a position to refuse a meal, no matter who made it. I do not always know what drives my clients, so I try not to judge their actions. I ask that you try to adopt a similar outlook, not only in future missives but in policy. Though, for a glance at the desperation some of these people feel, I should probably give an example. The first time I ever got into contact with Warlockry. As you already mentioned, I made a name for myself defending the Ghalaunach Collective in court from accusations of cult activity. But before that, I represented them in negotiations with their patron…

---

It began when one of them decided to come to my 'office'. A lofty term considering that in those days, I held counsel from my own apartment. Or perhaps I just slept at my workplace. The line was honestly blurred. At this point in time, I had only just set up my solo-venture. I had thought the time was right, as a contract-lawyer; the discovery of new land across the ocean had set hearts aflame of explorers and entrepreneurs alike, and every day new deals were made regarding the speculative worth of goods that may or may not be brought back by ships that were still being built. But I may have underestimated people's bias, conscious or otherwise, to being represented by a cultural peer. My clients had been few and far between, and most of my earnings so far had gone into paying off my tuition. Hence, my apartment having to do double duty as both office and lodgings. But whatever I may have considered the room's primary function, it stopped being that when my client walked in.

She was an Elven woman, with short-cropped hair the colour of fall. An illusion completed by the thin silver filigree laying across it like a spiderweb, with dewdrops of tiny gemstones. And from the confidence she exuded as she sat down opposite me, it was clear that this space now belonged to her. Her cold eyes were a metallic green, and she had her broad chin raised up in challenge. She had come here with purpose, and only allowed me to ask for it out of politeness. Laperrinei, as she called herself, told me she was preparing to negotiate terms and conditions for a contract, and wanted to get my advise on the matter. Naturally, there is one tip that I always give in these scenarios: "Never go into negotiations without professional legal backup. I will not be able to prepare you for every eventuality with advise alone." This, she dismissed with a curt motion of her hands.

"The moment I feel like I'll need that, I'll let you know. Until then, I'd prefer if you did what I'll pay for, and not try to sell me any other services."

I just smiled and nodded, though did not apologise. I would keep an eye open for an opportunity to come back to the subject later, but knew I should not come on too strong right away. Instead, I asked about the nature of her agreement. That at least seemed to take some wind out of her sails, her confident smile diminishing, but not disappearing. She fell silent as she thought about this, and realised it must be taking her longer than it should. In the end, she settled on a rather non-committal answer: "I suppose it would be a trade?"

"You suppose. You're not sure?" I asked calmly, portraying my curiosity as purely professional. "Do you have any idea what else it might be?"

"No, no, it is a trade. An exchange. I'd be selling something, after all." She replied, tilting her chair back and resting one arm on its backrest, either to convince me she was more composed than she felt, or to ease herself into that mindset.

I smiled, and decided not to press for details that I did not need yet. "That seems pretty clear-cut, then. Now, you say selling. I assume you will be paid in gold, then? Or is this an exchange of goods, or services?"

Our prospective merchant shook her head. "Gold, yes. Though- Hrm, I do not know if this is going to be relevant…?"

She waited long enough for me to consider that a question. "Me neither. I'll only know that after you've said it." I replied.

"I will be paid in advance. Far in advance. I'm not expected to deliver my wares for several decades. Longer, I hope."

"You hope?" It was honestly refreshing to interact with someone so confidently uncertain.

"Indeed. Centuries even, with some luck."

I took note of that. It was not a unique timescale at all, but in a predominantly human city like Taven, it wasn't the norm either. "Ah. So, the contract will be needed to hold you accountable. Still, your partner is taking quite a risk, then." I said light heartedly. But this seemed to confuse her.

"A risk? You said yourself, the contract is there to hold me accountable, no?"

"Yes, but that is assuming that the 'condition' you set will even come to pass."

She chuckled as if reminded of a joke. "No need to worry about that. This -will- happen. I'd bet my life on it. In fact, I'm curious how that would play out."

She slowly leaned forward again, and rested two calloused elbows on my desk. "Actually, can we go back to the type of contract? Maybe it's more accurate to call it an inheritance?"

"So a conditional gift?" I asked matter-of-factly, trying to create a sense of normalcy around the subject. Though something did feel off to me. This woman was still young. I know most Elves look youthful to a human observer, but in my own expertise I would put her somewhere in the latter half of her first century. Her skin had a healthy, olive hue to it, and her sturdy, wiry limbs insinuated the persistence of that same tree. I knew there might be maladies that my cursory glance would not be able to identify, but it seemed unusual for someone in her position to think of an inheritance to someone old enough to be her business-partner.

Something here felt off. But I could not lay my finger on it. Like the cold touch of a viper slithering past my feet, through grass too high to spot it. I was suspicious, yes, but I needed this case too much to dismiss it on suspicion alone.

"Of course we can do that." I said, continuing to answer her question. "I could set up either a 'condition precedent gift', or a 'condition subsequent gift'. With the former, your assets will only be transferred to your beneficiary after they performed a certain act. With the latter, the gift can be revoked if the recipient violates the conditions you set at a later time."

Her eyes lit up with the splendour of the thoughts behind them. "I think that second one sounds promising. Or rather, hm… Could the 'condition' of that second option be tied to something they did before? Like, what if they didn't actually fulfil their part of the bargain, but that's only revealed after they receive my assets?"

I thought for a moment, not about the answer, but its presentation. "In that case, the gift was never valid and should be revoked. The only issue here is that in this situation, there might be nobody around to actually challenge their claim."

I saw her lips curve up slightly, then part to dismiss my worries. Before she could, I decided to continue in an offhanded tone. As if the comment that had been simmering on my tongue since this conversation started was just a sudden afterthought. "Of course, if any of these dealings are of a criminal nature, a contract might not be enforceable at all without consequences. Though I suppose this would be the safest room to discuss it, nonetheless."

When she asked "It would be? How come?" I knew I had her.

"Hm? Oh, well, attorney-client privilege means I could get my license revoked if I reveal any of your secrets, even if I were sworn under oath."

"Any of my secrets?"

I cocked my head and established the eye contact we had taken turns avoiding before. "If revealing this information might save lives, there are no legal consequences to me doing so. But there are also no consequences to me keeping it quiet." I said, knowing full well which one I'd pick. She narrowed her eyes at me as if trying to determine that for herself. When we saw the glint in each other's eye, we both knew we were in.

"I'll admit," she said "that I don't understand the entire deal, myself. If I did, I suppose I wouldn't be here. So, if you want to know more, maybe you should talk to my partner?"

---

It was only after she had left that I realised just how unorthodox the entire exchange had been. I had agreed to represent her, but I still didn't know anything about the actual deal. But what was I going to do? I'd been starved for good cases, and wasn't in a position to deny one just for being vague. Besides, I had tried too hard to convince her only to then refuse to help. At least my client assured me that the deal in question was "probably not illegal, merely stigmatised", which would have to be good enough for me. The only certainty I had related to the time and place of our meeting, which Laperrinei had clarified to me. As that day drew closer, however, the anxiety regarding my lack of preparedness steadily grew.

It was a beautiful day to be outside. The sun shone brightly, reflecting off of crystalline puddles of recent rainfall. Glistening green ivy framed window shutters in any colour the owners could afford or cared to paint them. The beauty of the city contrasted strongly with the building that was to be my destination. It stood apart from the other dwellings. Enough so that its decrepitude did not overly detract from the lustre of the neighbourhood. It clearly had not been built with habitation in mind, but instead as a the shed on one of the grander estates at the city's edge. But as decadent lifestyles ran inheritances dry, the family that owned the land had been forced to sell. Though apparently, the buyer had no interest in living in that manor. Instead, its inner walls had been knocked down and restructured into a collection of 'efficiently proportioned' apartments. Similar repurposing had been applied to the shed, though I doubt the building had seen any maintenance since then. The gambrel roof sagged under the years of neglect, like shoulders slumped in defeat. Red paint peeled off of spongelike wood, giving the appearance of infected wounds. I stood before the door for some time, debating whether or not to step inside, and wondering how it managed to remain closed while most of the shutters hung so loosely in their hinges that it seemed they were trying to flee. Looking at that threshold, I knew that passing it would be something irreversible. But then again, so was walking away. I had already invested time into coming here, and who knew when I might next get a case? I had no idea what lay behind that door, but I did know poverty awaited if I turned the other way. I chose to have a chance. I opened the door, feeling the rush of cool air sigh past me. It carried a faint coppery scent into the open. As I stepped inside, I called out. "You know, I -have- notified a friend I'd be coming here. So, ehm… Well, just in case anything happens." I chuckled, trying to give the accusing comment an air of humour, just in case. I knew I had failed, though.

The small building only had one lonely room. Lighting inside was sparce, limited to what crepuscular rays pierced the wounded ceiling. The only luxury the space offered would be privacy. I saw my client standing just off-centre in her territory. I approached, stepping close enough to make out the shape beside her- and I screamed.

She knew better than to rush towards me, for if she had I would have fled. Instead, she raised her hands to chest-height, showing them to be empty. "Shh- Calm down. It's not a person. Just calm down and look. But don't get too close… And be quiet, or people outside really will think I am hurting you."

Trembling, I did as she said. Beside her lay a limp heap of pink flesh and coarse fur. The boar's body had been marked with a vertical tear down the length of its throat, where my client must have reached in to grasp its tongue, which now lay like a wet smear across its chest. A black, oblong shape was drawn on the floor around and beneath it. Fear and discomfort made me breathe heavily, but the sceptic stench immediately made me regret it. I looked at the still body, and asked Laperrinei "What -is- that?"

My question was answered by a wheezing gasp, and a struggling voice that wasn't hers.

The pig was still dead. I was sure of it. Its limbs did not move, and it remained on its back. Its tongue still hung down the cavity it had been torn from. But something else had grown in its place. The space between us rung with a laboured wheezing as whatever consciousness had been invited into the lifeless body tried to adjust to the wet meat surrounding it. It drew in air, not for survival, but to push out again as it made its noises.

"Hrmn, anoh-'nother… Seeker?" It said, not moving its head to look towards me, though I could see its jaws faintly shifting to form the words.

I could feel the blood draining from my face and pooling in my feet to root me in place. I cleared my throat, and tried to keep my voice steady. "Not quite." I said, struggling to speak as much as the creature was, if for different reasons. My head whipped towards Laperrinei with cold realisation. "This is your partner?"

Another sharp inhalation cut off any response. "Y-You… Speak with… Hrme now. Not herrrgk."

As the creature talked, I could see the flaps of rent skin on its throat tremble. And between them, the white heads of maggots, like rows of independently writhing teeth. I had to look away from it, instead just staring at the charcoal outline around it as I answered. "Then... Who am I speaking to?"

Again, the creature struggled to form words. Though speech seemed to come to it more easily than before. Perhaps whatever force animated this flesh grew more accustomed to its use over time. "Ghalaunach… Spirit of Affluence."

I was unsure how to react. The introduction had sounded as casual as this thing was capable of. No grandiose descriptions, nor a thousand reasons why I should fall on my knees before it. My disquiet was not dissuaded, but I knew that any misgivings I had would need to wait. Whether I liked it or not, negotiations had started here.

"And I am Jurian Cornelissen. I represent your would-be partner, Miss Laperrinei. I am not entirely familiar with your terminology, but I do not believe I am personally 'seeking' anything."

It laughed. Loudly. Clearly. With how tortured and broken its speech had been so far, I suspected this chortling was no natural impulse, but an active effort at mockery.

"Incorrect." It eventually wheezed out.

"Incorrect?"

"You all seek something… You all desire, hrn.. More… You would be much happier if you learned to recognise it."

"Perhaps. But that is not what I am here for right now. I am here to represent the interests of my client." I responded, gladly grasping the excuse to turn my gaze away from the creature, and give a reassuring nod to the woman that led me here. My client indeed.

"Why? I proposed a deal already… She will accept. Or she will not. What more is there to discuss?"

"Well, that is just it. She isn't satisfied with the deal you proposed, so we would like to consider some alternatives along with you."

Its throat quivered, as if something moved beneath its skin. "Bah… And do you even know what our deal was?"

I thought for a moment. I had not been told of course, which had been my main source of frustration right up until this thing began to speak. But there were a few obvious answers. The talk of an inheritance. The absolute squalor my client lived in. I threw a glance her way, my eyes asking for confirmation. She nodded.

"You asked for her soul."

"A crude term, but not inaccurate." It said. Its voice touched the air with the sour tang of decay, opting to assault my nostrils as it eased up on my ears. "And in return…?"

"In return… You offer her wealth?"

"So you understand… Good. Then we are done here."

That almost sounded like a relief, for I craved nothing more than to be done with this. But if I let the conversation end here, it would end in failure.

"Now hold on-" I said. "That was your first proposal, yes. But that does not mean we are satisfied with it! My client is in no position to part with her soul, but there must be something else you would be willing to trade for."

Its vocal chords trembled with a wet, gular noise that I interpreted as a dismissal. But as if to confirm that, the thing continued "I know the value of what I offer. You come to me in need, and I am not required to help you. When I do decide to do so, I ought to be fairly compensated."

It did not ask a question. And it took me a while before I realised I should answer. "I take it that your initial proposal is no charity? That you would not be giving more than you'd receive?"

"Is that what you deride me for? We both stand to gain from this. That is the beauty of trade. If you enjoy what you have more than what you're offered, then don't strike the bargain."

"I never intended to berate you." I said in turn. "But surely, what you asked for isn't the bare minimum of what you need to make a profit?"

"What I asked for is what is fair! What I ask for is what my efforts earn me."

"And I am only asking if there is anything else that might satisfy you."

The thing's leathery hide bloated around its frame, but as my eyes began to water I mercifully could not make out the details. "There is not. For how could I be satisfied with any less than I know I could have had?"

"Right, right. Except, there is your mistake: There is nothing you will be missing out on. Nothing that you 'could have had', because we can not agree to the deal in its current form."

Again, the creature laughed. Its taut skin ruptured, and my body heaved as my lungs tried to resist the foul air. Though its guts flowed from the opening, they did not spill over the drawn sigil, instead sloshing against it as if filling a tub. "Then leave! You offer me nothing. I will not be reduced to begging for scraps!"

My throat struggled to form words and keep my breakfast on the right side of my teeth at the same time. "But… That doesn't make sense. Surely you would prefer a subpar deal over nothing at all?"

"Oh, there will be a deal. Because you'll be back… You'll go hungry. And I can wait this out longer than you can. You need my help more than I need yours! And I can wait this out longer than you can."

"How? How can you be so certain?" I asked, gagging as the thing's body deflated, its once-bloated skin now draped across its bones like a drenched canvas.

"You think your little Elf is the only one who seeks me? Even if she manages to turn away, I'll not mourn her loss. For each one that leaves, there are a dozen more that give in. She'll come back… Or she'll rot without me."

The cohesion of the corpse's form buckled under its own weight. I stared at it as its words sank in. I only told it "Thank you" as its body collapsed, no longer able to house that malign intellect. Laperrinei, as sickened as I, washed out the sigil with a bucket of water and severed whatever connection remained. I took a step back as the thick blood was finally allowed to flow out. I felt sickened. Even though nothing had touched me, I felt like I needed to clean myself for several hours. But I also knew what our next step had to be.

--

Sadly, I was not much help in clean-up. I was more likely to add to the mess than reduce it. When it was done I needed fresh air, unable to gather my thoughts in this place. Laperrinei led me out, but remained in the doorway like a warden, not daring to leave the room unguarded until all evidence was disposed of. It almost seemed wrong how beautiful the day was after what I'd just seen. She wasn't quite satisfied with my results so far, but truth be told, I wasn't exactly pleased with her conduct either.

"I might have done a lot better if you'd given me a chance to prepare."

"Would you have come here if you knew what waited for you?"

I sighed. "I hope I wouldn't have. And what about you? Are you honestly considering that thing's offer?"

She echoed my sigh, though tinged it with frustration. A decent mask for shame. "I am. You have seen my living conditions. And with the way that the worth of gold is falling, I might not even be able to afford this much longer."

My eyes darted up to the fine mesh adoring her hair. "Surely things can't be all that desperate?"

The fury in her eyes informed me of my mistake. "This is an heirloom. From the old home. Should I sell one of my few ties to my culture, just to live in your city for a few more moons?"

I nodded in acknowledgment, not agreement.

"Some things should not be given up, no. But then what is? That thing is asking for your soul…"

"It is." She shrugged, though the motion was uncertain, and empty.

"That just sounds so permanent. No amount of luxury you can enjoy in one lifetime can be worth an eternity of suffering, right?"

"Maybe not. But who's to say that's what I'm in for? I don't know what awaits us after death. What the afterlife is like, and what I'd really be signing up for. But I do know what a life of poverty is like. I'd rather take the risk for something better."

How I wish she hadn't said that. If she had only told me she'd just walk away from this, I could have accepted that loss. But she believed she had to go through with this. It was an informed decision, with a calculated risk. And it was my duty to mitigate that risk as much as I could. So I did the only thing I could. I reminded her that the next day, I would be back in the office, and I would have time to see her around noon. That did bring a smile back to her face. "Then I will be there."

"Good. I'll be ready for you." I responded. I'd been ready to turn around, when I paused and looked back at her. "Now… Forgive me for asking, but I just have to know. This is an extremely delicate case, and I am far from this city's most renowned lawyer. Why did you come to me with this?"

She chuckled, and to my surprise I saw that same glint as when she first entered my office. "That's exactly why. You were perfect."

I didn't need to voice my confusion, as she read it clearly off my face.

"I couldn't exactly mention a demon. But no self-respecting lawyer would take on a case with this little information."

I felt my blood rising to my cheeks, but wasn't sure if I felt enraged, embarrassed or impressed. She continued "But a newly starting Half-Elven lawyer in a human city? I was hoping you'd be desperate for a case. And if I offered just enough push-back to make you feel like you had to fight for it, you wouldn't dare ask too many questions."

There was no malice in her voice. If anything, she sounded amused. And to her credit, there was no harm done except to my pride.

"I do hope you'll forgive a bit of subterfuge?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to calm my nerves. If anything, I blamed myself for jumping headlong into this. In the end, I could only laugh. "I'd say that hardly matters. After all, I did agree to represent you. And I think we're both desperate enough to go along with it."