Dungeon Life

Chapter Three-Hundred Fifty-Three

Pul

In the hauler’s barracks, the disguised changeling stares at the ceiling while laying in his bunk, wondering where he messed up. Nothing immediately sticks out to him, so he goes over the day in his mind, desperately trying to figure out how things could have gone so off track.

Maybe he shouldn’t have let them escort him back to the bunk house? If he could have stopped them, it might have worked, but what was he supposed to do? They wouldn’t let him get back to work, even with his ankle healed, saying he should still try to stay off it until at least tomorrow. At least he was able to get them to move on quickly, though he wonders if maybe that was the mistake.

The thieves pretending to be haulers weren’t exactly welcoming to the two. There was no concern about his getting hurt, nor relief at hearing he had gotten healed. The Goblin, orc, and spiders acted like they didn’t notice the suspicious stares, but Pul doubts it flew fully over their heads. Once they were gone, the leader of the group of thieves told him to stop standing out, or else.

That’s what he was trying to do! It’s not his fault he slipped! He didn’t say that, of course. He just nodded and mumbled an apology. The leader didn’t care so much about Pul getting hurt and noticed, but more about the fact that he said to lay low and Pul hadn’t. The thief’s authority is too thin to allow even the slightest challenge to it, so better to act meek instead of pointing out how ridiculous the thief was being.

The next morning, he had headed into the hold, only to discover the orc and goblin waiting at the rubble pile! For a brief moment, he thought he had somehow been made, but he soon realized they were helping load the carts for the haulers. The realization didn’t calm his nerves when the two waved at him while working, each loading the carts in their own way.

Rhonda was using her magic to grab and move the rubble, while Freddie was doing the same with his muscles and a shovel. The other haulers were happy to wait and be loaded up by the two, instead of having to shovel themselves. Apparently, Pul hadn’t been the only one to slip up.

“There’ll be more loaders once the miners get into a good groove,” explained Freddie. “The newer ones will be helping shovel, while the more experienced ones will be handling the rough finishing of the areas around the entrance here.”

He wasn’t wrong. Before long, more miners were showing up to help load the carts, and they were going at a pace that even the kobold lady with the basilisk-pulled wagon was starting to have trouble keeping up with their workflow. Still, she seemed to relish the challenge, while Pul and the other haulers and undercover thieves relished the chance to slow down a little.

“So what do you do to relax?” asked the goblin girl as she happily levitated stones into the carts, leaving the gravel and dust for Freddie’s shovel.

“Uh…” he had eloquently replied. He didn’t miss the glance she and Freddie shared before the orc lad spoke up.

“Have you tried delving before?”

“No, too dangerous,” he answered, hoping that would be the end of it.

“Nah, delving Thedeim is probably safer than mining,” argued Rhonda, with Freddie nodding and adding his opinion.

“It’s true. The new people still don’t believe us, but I think practically the entire town has done at least one delve of him by now.”

“Him?”

Rhonda nodded and explained. “He’s just over a year old, but he’s really smart. He doesn’t want to hurt people, but help them. And delving’s a lot of fun!”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Pul gave her an incredulous look, prompting her to defend herself. “It’s true! You should come with us! Tula’s pretty new, too, so with the both of you, it’ll be easier to find a good place for you to get used to delving.”

“I don’t have any weapons or armor,” he tried, but to no avail. Freddie spoke up and dashed his hopes of deflecting the course of the conversation.

“I found a hammer and some chainmail the last time we went, and I haven’t had a chance to sell it yet. You could borrow them, and even keep them if you like delving,” he offered with a friendly smile. How could he know that Pul would be better off with a dagger or shortsword and some treated leather armor instead?

He stayed quiet, trying to think of a way around accepting, before the two glanced around and leaned in, lowering their voices. “Getting a couple levels from delving could help you stand up to the other haulers. They didn’t seem very friendly when we dropped you off yesterday,” lead Rhonda, with Freddie continuing once they saw Pul’s eyes widen.

“If they’re bullying you, we can get you moved to a different bunkhouse, too.”

He couldn’t just explain to them his actual situation, but he also couldn’t act like nothing was wrong, either. They definitely noticed the hostility, even if they’re clueless about the reason. Could these two actually get him moved to a different bunkhouse? It’s not surprising to think they have some clout. A paladin and a mage, each seeming like prodigies. Maybe noble born or something? But why would two young nobles care about a hauler?

“I just don’t want to make any trouble,” he murmured with a lot more honesty than he was expecting. He really didn’t and doesn’t want to cause any trouble, but he also can’t seem to escape it. ꞦἁNỔ𝐁Ëᶊ

“Then let's go delving this weekend, together. Maybe a level or two will make them look for someone else to pick on.”

“Or decide to stop picking on people altogether.”

Even the two spiders chittered with an encouraging tone, all of them just wanting to help him out. And if he’s honest with himself… he could really use some help. He shakes his head and sighs again, coming back to the present for a few brief moments, before turning to earlier today, where he had to talk to the bunkleader. Of course the elf knew he had been talking with the two, though not what about.

He was easy enough to distract, at least. If Pul can get in with two young nobles, there’d be all sorts of chances for the guild to make some coin. Classic thieving and burglary, or even ransom; either would help the guild out. Pul just hopes the guild stays too occupied with the Hold to try anything.

He’s going to go delving with them tomorrow. He has the day off, so they’ll be coming by early to get him and get him geared up, then they’ll meet with whoever Tula is and go delve. He’s nervous about it, and rightly so.

While a lot of Fourdock is getting comfortable delving, he’s never been. The guild looks down on it, for the most part. They deal with people, not monsters. The idea seems like it offends Boss Toja’s professional pride or something. He doesn’t get it. The guild isn’t exactly pacifistic. They’re more than happy to use violence to achieve their goals, but for whatever reason, they think dungeons are beneath them.

He’d call it stupid, if he wasn’t certain Boss Toja has some reasons for it. Some of the thieves might not be the brightest, but you don’t get to be the guild leader by being an idiot. Maybe she just doesn’t like the risk versus reward. That makes sense to Pul, at least.

Before Thedeim, the local dungeons weren’t conducive to delving. The cemetery and the sea: both hostile, ready, and willing to kill any delvers, without much in the way of interesting things to tempt them to try anyway. How many years was it like that? Thedeim’s only been around for just over one, so Pul can’t really blame Boss Toja for not jumping at the chance. Some of the stories about the dungeon are too good to be true, so she’d be wary, as would the others.

For him, though… the risk is worth it. If he can get stronger, maybe he can get his parents away from the schemes of the guild. He wouldn’t be able to challenge Toja, surely, but his parents butcher shop can’t be that important to whatever schemes she has. He hasn’t been treated like anything valuable to the guild, so he doubts his parents are, either. All he needs is the strength to oppose whoever is running the small-time operation for it.

There’s one other risk that his mind keeps brushing against, and recoiling from each time. He’s spent so long among thieves that he can’t bring himself to entertain the idea, but it’s still more tempting to him than the fattest of purses. He hates seeing everyone and everything as though weighing them on scales for their worth to him. It makes him feel like he belongs in the guild, much as he’s been trying to resist letting them sway his thinking like that.

He had almost gotten used to seeing the world like that, before he twisted his ankle. Then Rhonda carried him out of the Hold, Freddie healed him… and neither asked for anything in return. They never even implied it. They didn’t need anything from him… they just wanted to help.

Part of him wants to hate them for that, but he refuses to listen to it. He curls up, eyes clenched as he wishes for sleep, but it’s not coming. He’s angry, not at them, but at himself. He’s angry to have something to hope for, angry at knowing he’ll desperately reach for it again, despite knowing how it always ends. Angry that changelings don’t get to have friends.