". . . so after I got hit by a truck saving a kid, I died, where God told me that I had died before my time. But in exchange, he told me I could reincarnate in a new world with all the memories of my old life. . . and one item from my own world."

"And you chose a gun?" Shadow asked.

"It seemed a good idea at the time," I said ruefully. "I mean. . . guns ended the age of the medieval knight, right? I figured that, with my gun, I would be unstoppable."

"Were you aware that our alchemists had learned the secret of black powder ages ago? And that gonnes were tried, but were deemed a dead-end technology?" the elf girl asked.

"I learned. . . quickly," I said. "The first time I shot at a bunch of bandits attacking a caravan, I thought I was going to be a hero. Then one of them held up their hand and deflected the bullet. Turns out that a simple Shield spell does a pretty good job of protecting from bullets as well as Magic Missiles."

Shadow sighed and rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "Yes," she said. "That would do it."

"They hit me with Hold Person, took me prisoner, and stole my gun," I said. "And that's how I ended up as a slave in the gladiator pits of Tharn."

"A place I know well," Shadow said. "I was a slave there once. It took me fifty years to win one hundred fights and earn my freedom."

"Yeah. . . well, I was lucky. Pitmaster Grimtooth decided I was too scrawny to make a good gladiator, and too dull to make good Manticore food, so he put me into the training course. Three months of high protein diets, constant exercise, and sword training. I figured that by the end of that time, I'd be a warrior true, and I could earn my way through the world by the strength of my arm and the steel of my sword. At least, until the first time I got put into a sparring match against another gladiator. Turns out that swordfighting wasn't my talent either. Grimtooth had given up on making me a gladiator, and I was due to end up as Hydra food, when I overheard him complaining to the Pit Lords about owing money to Senator Vornak. Which seemed strange to me because the Tharn Gladiator Pits were raking in money hand over fist, so why the hell weren't they turning a profit?"

Shadow laughed brightly, a sound like silver bells. "And that was when you made yourself indispensible to Pit Lord Olvan?"

"Yeah. . . turns out that Olvan had never heard of double-entry bookkeeping before. His scribes were skimming money off the top." I laughed ruefully. "It turns out that when God offered to let me take my prior knowledge and one item from my old world, the former was more important than the latter. Figuring out what was going on was child's play for any trained CPA. I managed to turn Olvan's business around, and his old scribes ended up as jobbers during the next gladiatorial games."

Shadow took a long sip of her icewine. "That still doesn't explain how you ended up here," she said.

"Well, it turned out that Olvan was good friends with Ser Ulrich. A lot of retired gladiators end up becoming sellswords, after all, and the Blue Daggers were the foremost adventuring guild in the land. Ulrich's books were better organized than Olvan's, but he was still running into issues with guildmasters stiffing him on their yearly tithes. Olvan figured that if anyone could figure out a solution to the problem, I could. So he set up the meeting, and we came up with a plan." I shook my head and sighed, memories of long nights by witchlight coming back to haunt me. "I thought I was done with middle management after I got hit by a truck, but it turned out that nobody in the Blue Daggers had ever learned project management. The guildmasters were trying their best, but they had never learned how to keep a project running smoothly, how to make sure people stayed on task without wasting time, how to value their employees rather than treating their workers like crap. It took me a year and a day of running the Valendil chapter of the Blue Daggers to convince them that my way would work better. After that, they had the guildmasters send me their best apprentices to train up in my method, and go forth to train up their own people. After some time, people outside the Blue Daggers asked me to help train them up on my method too, and I bought out my contract and went into business for myself. I got a charter from the Emperor. . . and here I am."

"And here you are," Shadow said. "And here I am as well."

"And here we are," I agreed. "Shall we get down to business?"

"Yes, indeed," Shadow said. "You understand, of course, that your tongue shall be cut out of your head and your eyes left for the ravens if you ever speak a single word of what I say to another living soul?"

"Jefferson Consulting Solutions treats client confidentiality as its top priority," I agreed. "Bound and sealed by a Tenth Level Geas."

"Very well," The black-clad elf woman smiled. "The Assassin's Guild wishes to undergo one of your 'restructurings.' Our members fight amongst themselves constantly, and bloodshed is common. What would it take to improve our organization's efficiency and prevent infighting amongst our members?"

"Sounds to me like you need one of our leadership retreats and corporate culture consultancies. If you look at our brochure here. . ."