#security bot

“I need you to go — ”

“And leave you behind? Absolutely not.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, or to let out a loud groan of annoyance. You manage that resistance for long enough to throw off suspicion over your emotions, then you slap both hands to your face and let them slide off. You put enough pressure on them to let the flesh on your face peel down a little, like you have seen some humanoids do to expose the bottom of their eyeballs.

“You hired me to protect you on your journey to the capital. Now we’re here, and there are better people to ensure your safety instead of me.” It was the truth. You can see the powerful spellcasters here, the soldiers and knights with their heavy weapons in hand. You can also approximate the number of times that those weapons have been bloodied, and it was enough to count on one hand only.

“Madam.” One of the soldiers extends a hand, metal plate armor clicking as they do so. “We must go now. You are safer with us.”

Your client, a sorcerer from a rather influential family in the capital (you don’t pay much attention to politics, so sue you for not knowing specifics), looks at you. Her eyes look at you up and down, then she clasps her hands in front of her.

Oh gods, she’s begging.

“Mysterious protector of mine with no name,” she cries, “at least allow me to offer you a spell of protection if you are to go out and fight those that have trailed me.” She starts to blink more frequently and sticks her lower lip out a bit.

You contort your face into a grimace. You hate it when others start pulling things like this on you. So maybe charms like this work on most of your client’s previous protectors, it wouldn’t work on you. “Save your spells.”

She stomps her foot on the cobblestone. “I’m offering you a good spell, so it’s best you take me up on my offer.”

“Madam, we have to go — ”

“Not until I give this spell to them!”

You grimace again. “It,” you spit out. “Not ‘them’. ‘It’.” You wave your hand dismissively and add, “Anyways, don't listen to me, listen to them.” You gesture to the spellcasters and knights, ready to sweep the sorcerer off her feet and take her far away to safety.

Your client, soon to be a former client as soon as you can get away from her, sighs. “You are so frustrating.”

You keep your mouth shut.

The sorcerer rapidly takes a step towards you and exhales a word weaved with magic as she taps your nose with a finger. “Let them try to burn you,” she whispers.

You recoil from her touch and consider punching yourself in the nose, but that’s an idiotic move. You instead rub at your nose with the sleeve of your jacket as you glare at her from behind your tinted glasses.

The sorcerer giggles and moves behind her new, more qualified protection squad. “Consider that my tip,” she calls as she’s whisked away.