Dungeon Life-Chapter Three-Hundred Forty-Seven
Pul
Life isn’t easy for a changeling. If nobody knows you’re one, things get easier, but they get much more difficult once discovered. Most of the race tries to quietly blend in, and they actually have a higher average of civilian classes than other races. It’s just that the ones that do stand out tend to do so with great infamy.
Thieves who effortlessly blend into a crowd, burglers who pose as the homeowner and clean a home of its valuables while the real one is away, assassins who take the place of their victims, leaving none aware they’re dead until they simply vanish. Known changelings have thoroughly soured the reputation of their peaceful compatriots.
Pul hates that he may be adding another dark mark to his people’s reputation. It’s not something that can just be shifted away. He still remembers the shame on the faces of his parents when he went with the collector. Not shame in him, but in themselves for letting him get into that kind of situation. They knew the shady elf was a loan shark, but their small butchery was failing as a business. All his father could think to do was take a loan, and hope things improved.
Ironically, they did. The new dungeon was breathing life into the town, and his parents were making money once more. It just wasn’t fast enough. His parents tried to keep him unaware, tried to shield him, but he could see their unease every time the elf came by, and could see him leaving with a larger and larger pouch of money each time.
And then they couldn’t pay the inflated cost. He’s pretty sure the elf wanted the butchery for something, maybe a front. He probably played his parents the whole time. He couldn’t have predicted Thedeim appearing, but forcing hardship, allowing opportunity to spring and actually get him some payments before he swoops in and takes everything anyway…
He’s learned since then that’s exactly how the thieves guild works. He offered himself, to wipe away their debt. Even a thief wouldn’t take a slave, not even this far from the capital, but having a changeling they have leverage on, leverage enough to practically dictate his build? Who wouldn’t leap at that sort of chance?
Even worse for Pul, he knows the thieves are still in a position where they can’t lose. If he follows them and does what they tell him, they get another tool to use. If he fails, they still get some use out of him, and will get the butchery anyway. He didn’t have any other choice, and he still doesn’t know how he’s going to get out of this.
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Especially with the new job they have him and half the guild doing. He doesn’t know the whole plan, but he knows it's nothing good, at least for Fourdock. It’ll probably make Toja even more influential and powerful, but Pul doesn’t know how. All he knows is he was told to go to the nearest town and meet up with several other guild members, and they’d join with one of the immigrant groups as haulers. He’s a simple rogue, but every rogue needs some trick to help move loot, right?
A little boost to speed and capacity, and a little nudge away from noticing him, that’s all he has, and it’s just what he needs to infiltrate the construction of the hold. People barely pay any attention to haulers in the first place, and with so many bustling in and out of the hole in the side of the mountain, it’s simple for him to disguise himself as an elf and listen in on the people in charge.
The actual plans are kept secure, but with him hauling stone out from the mountain, it’s not difficult for him to dawdle near the ones giving orders, shouting measurements, and directing the digging. Then, all he has to do is give the information to his handler, who sends it along to his, all the way back to the guild, eventually. It’s not especially fast, but neither is digging. Even with the slow progress that he can see on the walls, there’s a lot of stone that needs to be moved out of the way for them to keep going.
His assignment is going surprisingly well, too, much as he wishes it wasn’t. If he had to cart his load off to some dumping site well away, he’d have an excuse for not being able to pass along much information. But there’s an experienced hauler taking that particular route. He never knew haulers could get taming abilities, but he can’t think of any other reason why the kobold has what looks like two basilisks tied to the front of her massive wagon.
She’s quick and clear with her instructions for how to load the cart, backing it up into a large sunken ramp to allow the other haulers to be easily able to dump their loads inside. A lot of the other haulers try to talk up the small kobold as they work, sounding interested in how she got the basilisks, but she’s not giving any details while they’re supposed to be on the job.
She does seem happy to chat once her shift is over, but for now, her professional pride demands she keep the stone flowing to wherever it needs to go. He tries to get her to tell him, too, making sure he blends in, but gets the same rebuffing as the others. The camaraderie almost makes him wish he actually was a hauler. It’s not a glamorous class, but it’s a lot more acceptable to people than a rogue.
He grunts as he offloads his rocks and heads back to the active mining site, trying to offload his thoughts as well. They weigh on him a lot more than the stones. The trip back to load up is short enough he’s not burdened for too long, at least, and he happily takes the shovel and starts loading once more, letting his mind wander to his parents, wondering how they’re doing.
With the harbor open, they must be getting the chance to butcher the bigger fish from there. And with the travel to the Southwood shortened, deer and elk will need to be processed, too. A lot of adventurers know how to dress a carcass to keep the meat good, and can remove a haunch or something to eat at camp, but it takes a proper butcher to turn a carcass into proper cuts for a meal.
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He smiles faintly as he goes over the cuts for a deer, memories of him being younger and wrapping the pieces as his father would remove them. Bone in, bone out, prime cuts, stewing meat… some people find it grisly work, but Pul always admired the precision and skill involved.
Unfortunately, while preoccupied with his memories, he fails to notice a couple rocks that miss his cart as he shovels. Once he has his load full, he steps around to take the handles, and his foot lands precisely wrong. He’s falling before he even understands why, but the pain from his ankle gives him a good guess, before the pain from hitting the floor chimes in.
“Aagh!”
Several other haulers give him sympathetic looks as they keep shoveling their own loads, and for a moment, Pul is hurt more by their lack of help than by his ankle and elbow. “Don’t try to move!” comes a voice, drawing his attention and at least giving the other haulers their excuse for not rushing to his aid. It’s not their job, but rather hers.
A goblin girl with a large hat and flowing robes rushes to him, her staff held high as she hurries. He can’t help but notice the gems set into the end of it, leaving it looking unfinished. A ruby, sapphire, and… a diamond? That’s a lot of wealth to put on a staff and let it look unfinished. He tries to puzzle it out to keep his mind off the pain of his ankle.
The goblin skids to a stop beside him, ignoring his hand held to try to get some help up. “You’re not walking on that,” she states matter-of-factly as a spider hops off her hat and lands on his thigh. He stares at it, wondering what’s going on.
“What do you think, Lucas? A break, or a sprain?” The spider holds up a leg and lets it swing loosely, earning a grimace from her before Pul speaks up.
“It’s… not broken. Rolled… pretty badly,” he grunts. Any self-respecting changeling should be able to tell what condition their body’s in, even when not in their natural form.
The goblin girl brightens at that and motions for her spider to hop back onto her hat, which it does. “Ah, then Freddie should be able to fix you up in no time! He’s outside right now,” she says as she lifts her staff.
“How will I get there? You said I couldn’t- woah!” He tries not to flail as he feels himself floating up off the ground, the diamond on her staff scintillating as she works her magic. She doesn’t watch his face, but rather his foot, and he can feel the force carefully immobilizing it before she nods and starts jogging, dragging him along like a kite.
“Nothing feels worse about your foot?” she asks, looking concerned as she continues to jog outside, moving quicker than he would have expected a dedicated caster would. He gingerly tests his foot, feeling a warning throb to not attempt any actual movement… not that he can, with her magic around it.
“It’s… well, I’d say it’s good, but…”
She giggles and nods as she gets them past the kobold, and he swears he sees her spider on the edge of her hat, waving at the basilisks as they go by. “Joking’s a good sign. Don’t worry, Freddie’s a paladin. He’ll get you back on your feet before you know it.”
Pul’s eyes widen at that, and he wonders if he could get away somehow. From how she’s moving, she’s probably got a lot more levels than someone her age usually would have. He probably couldn’t escape even if his foot was fine. He just needs to play it cool. “You know a paladin?”
She nods. “Yep. He’s my best friend even. We’ve known each other for basically forever, which is why I’m taking you to him. I’m pretty sure there’s other healers around, but it’ll be faster to go to the one I know than try to find one of them.”
Pul just nods at that as they exit the mountain, and he tries not to stare at the garrison camped not far from the entrance. Their presence makes him glad the guild didn’t try to do anything direct with the hold. That many army people makes him want to panic, so the guild leader must be trying to be at least cautious, right? He does his best to stamp down his panic, which is harder to do not only because of how immobile he is, but also the fact that the goblin girl is taking him right into the camp!
Thankfully for his heart, she turns at the last moment and only skims along the edge, instead of waltzing right through, heading for a group of sparring soldiers. Most are standing around, watching an orc and a wolfkin testing each other. Pul notices a larger spider nearby, and though the soldiers aren’t too close to it, they’re not acting hostile.
An elf notices the goblin and Pul approaching, so he raises his hand toward the two fighters. “Hold. Freddie, your friend is here.”
The orc turns and Pul can see he’s basically the same age he is, though a lot tougher looking. “He hurt his ankle,” explains the goblin. “He says it’s rolled, but Lucas thinks it might be broken.” The orc nods and motions for the other spider, who approaches on long legs and a threatening face.
If he wasn’t immobilized, Pul would be trying to be very still as it nears him, and is surprised at how gently it prods his injury before chittering.
“Fiona says it’s a bad roll, not a break. I should be able to help him,” the orc says with a smile as he kneels down, one of his hands glowing softly. Pul can’t help but sigh as the pain drains out of him, the swelling vanishing and everything getting gently pushed back into its proper place. After a minute, the orc stands and nods at the goblin.
“He should be good now, Rhonda.” Pull feels himself lifted upright and carefully set on his feet, and he leans his weight on his good foot, just in case. He carefully tests it, putting more weight on it, before even jumping a few times and feeling nothing wrong.
“It feels great!” he admits, impressed with the paladin. He’s hardly an expert in the class, but even a relatively simple heal like that implies he also has a lot more levels than his apparent age would suggest. “Thank you.”
The orc smiles and takes his hand to shake. “No problem at all! I don’t get a chance to practice that often. I hope Rhonda didn’t run past too many other healers on the way?” he asks with a smirk, while the goblin tries to defend herself.
“I didn’t see any others on the way!” she exclaims, her spider chittering as the orc’s smirk widens.
“Not that you looked, according to Lucas.”
“Sold out by my own familiar…”
“She… did get me here quickly, sir. She said there were probably healers that were closer, but she knew where you were,” speaks Pul, wanting to defend the girl for getting him help.
“Please, just Freddie,” replies the orc, with the goblin speaking up right after.
“I’m Rhonda! The one on my hat is Lucas, and the big one is Fiona.” She and Freddie give him an expectant look, and even the spiders manage to do the same. He tries not to sigh before speaking.
“I’m Tupul, a hauler.”
