Author's Notes:
This snip takes place immediately after Glorified Peon #2.
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Also, the timestamps have been transferred to a spot directly between the chapter title (and its quote) and the story content. I retroactively applied this change to the 20th chapter and onward. So it looks a lot cleaner than before. If y'all want me to change it back to what it used to be, then let me know via reviews and/or private messages.
Now, if y'all also want me to add the days of the week that the timestamp falls under, don't forget to say so! Just bear in mind that this will apply only to timestamps with the number of days specified. Hence, something like 2W (as in CH24: Random Musings 1) will not have a day attached to it because it's implied to have occurred sometime during that period, whereas a tag like 3M2D (i.e. "3 months and 2 days") will result in the day of Valorem since it's exactly 123 days after Joshua's arrival.
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TRIGGER WARNING. Psychologically disturbing event inbound, coming up near the end of the chapter. Try not to eat any food while reading this. Also, if you're from India, you have family in India, or you're from a country that practices something similar to what you're about to read… I hope this doesn't bring back any bad memories. Descriptions will be graphic. You have been warned.
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From my beta (strykeruk): As beta reader I would like to apologise for the vivid descriptions you are about to read... do not read whilst eating. Otherwise kudos to Silent for the good writing.
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Timestamp key: "D" for days, "W" for weeks, "M" for months, "Y" for years, "EM" for early morning, "LM" for late morning, "EA" for early afternoon, "LA" for late afternoon, "EE" for early evening, "LN" for late night, and "AD" for all day. Note that the Realms follows the sexagesimal system for keeping time, just like Earth. (In other words, 60 seconds per minute and 60 minutes per hour.)
Snip category key: There are four categories of snips. "Settling In", "City Life", "Beyond the Wall", and "The Journey Home". All four represent parallel storylines that take place within Aimless, and other than "Settling In", each snip category has at least two subtypes. Those subtypes aren't listed due to potential spoilers.
Enjoy!
City Life – Employment
Chapter 33: Glorified Peon (Final)
"Start by doing what is necessary, then what is possible, and suddenly you are doing the impossible."
- St. Francis of Assisi
[7D/EA]
The F-bomb flew through the leopard's ears. If there was one thing Joshua detested about foreign countries, it's that people didn't understand any of his cursing. They wouldn't even know he was hurling insults until he told them! Hell, Copeland just laughed.
He continued to follow the rhynoc. Streeg definitely quickened his pace in here. The further they went, the bigger the tunnels, and the faster they moved. It was all the same. Nothing changed other than the size. at least, not until the tunnel had widened to the point two Streegs could fit in it side by side.
Only then did Joshua start picking up multiple life signatures in the dark, damp passages all around them. The trio converged with them in the next crossing, where at least four branching paths merged into one. A sense of awe came over Joshua. These were the largest passageways, enough to fit three bipeds side by side. It went either left or right from there, according to the markings on the floor plan.
Joshua raked the scene with his eyes. Traversing the utilidors were the other species. The bipeds. It was a healthy mixture of felines and bears, with the minority being atlawas, rhynocs, and gnorcs. Dragons in general were an even rarer sight, a stark contrast to the Temple Grounds.
Life made sure Joshua didn't forget the moles either, because the large group that joined up with his was a full labor of them. Eight moles, give or take. To him, they were walking rats, with their long, wrinkly muzzles, their beady eyes, and dirty, unkempt fur. A rank, earthy smell coagulated the air around them all.
Both parties paused at the sight of each other. A long awkward moment ensued as the moles stared at Joshua, their expressions unreadable. Seconds passed before their rotating spheres slowed down to a cool, relaxed pace and the labor left his group behind as one coherent unit. Jesus, he was already starting to prefer the dragons.
Streeg called at Joshua. "Come, let's go."
Copeland nudged him forward. "Huntress above, Joshua. It's time to move."
They went ahead and followed the group until they hit a deadend. The paths in either direction were just as large and as wide as this one, and there was a lot more traffic in here. An odd mixture of smells pervaded the tunnel. It was a fulsome compound. Musty, sour, redolent, earthy, and gamy, all at once.
Joshua felt like vomiting, felt as though he was suffocating. Not everybody gave the three of them wide swathes of space. Being the only human in the entire tunnel made him highly visible from either side. When people avoided Joshua, Streeg, and Copeland, they circled around them in a tight arc, eyes fixing themselves on the mammalian curiosity for a few brief seconds before moving forward with their lives.
"Left or right?" Joshua asked. The floor plan nearby didn't offer much of anything to begin with.
Streeg pointed to the left. "Left. Restricted access. Goes very high up." He raised his hand, to accentuate. "Audience Chamber, Noble Chambers, Four Towers." Then he gestured to the right. "Egeria's Veil, Library Archives, Office of the Keeper, Botanical Gardens... outside."
None of those names sounded familiar to him, and they would remain so for the remainder of his first month in the City of Dragons. That last one however...
"Outside? And what's that supposed to mean?"
Copeland grumbled, "It means exactly what it implies. It leads outside the Temple. Into the heart of Warfang itself."
"So, technically I, I can take this all the way to Old Warfang?"
"If you don't lose your way, yes, but as a clueless foreigner you're more likely to end up in any one of Warfang's nineteen districts." Being called a clueless foreigner grated him, but it was something Joshua couldn't contest. "How did you know about the old city to begin with?"
"Weren't you at my hearing the other day?"
"No, but Seriphos informed me about those 'cameras' you mentioned." Copeland sneered, "I'll believe it when I see it. Until then, I'll stick with my personal opinion—
"A most popular opinion," interjected Streeg.
"—that you're just feeding them all with droppings."
It was hard, very hard, not to give away his reaction. "I was telling the f*cking truth! Why the f*ck am I gonna give them shit to begin with?"
"All sorts of reasons. Many possibly catastrophic for Warfang, and none of them proven. I hope Master Volteer and Lady Cynder are right about you. All this special treatment..."
They veered right at the fork. Almost immediately they plunged directly into the crowd. Not even Joshua's reputation as a bloodthirsty murderer gave them pause. Copeland and Streeg tightened their formation, until they were so close an acrid, overpowering odor emanating from Streeg's skin assaulted Joshua's nose. For his own safety, the gamer had little choice in the matter. The crowd, easily recognizing a pair of Talonpoint knights and one of the most controversial people residing within the Temple, split and circled around their formation, jostling the trio from side to side.
Joshua wondered why nobody seemed to care about him, or at least, not as much as he expected. The dragons back in the Residential Area regarded him with fear. Here, he was a nuisance getting in the way. What role did the Felines play here? What were Bears good at? Was agriculture to the Atlawa the way engineering was to the Moles?
A life signature rushed towards them from behind, barreling down the utilidor in a straight line. Joshua evaded at the last second, and witnessed a green dragon—the same age as the apprentices, for sure—crash into Streeg from behind. "Jesus f*cking Christ!"
To the rhynoc's credit, he was an immovable mobile fortress. He stood tall, while the dragon stumbled forward. "Sorry, sirs. Courier coming through." He kept going with urgency, dashing through the crowds as though it was the end of the world. "Courier coming through!" Several people he crashed into bellowed multiple curses and insults, but that didn't hinder the dragon.
"Huntress skin you alive!"
"Sorry!"
"Market's hand! You almost hit me!"
"Excuse me!"
"Hey! Hey, hey, hey-HEY! Damned reptile, you'll have a new cloaca when I—
"Sorry, flying through – WHOA!"
"Watch it!"
It did not hinder the dragon at all.
Joshua felt dizzy. Lordy, this was like being in the Tokyo Metro during rush hour! People were as water, flooding what would've been an easy fit for two dragons wing to wing and flowing steadily in both directions. Their shadows cast much of the maintenance tunnel in darkness. Anyone who dropped something in this place was liable to lose it forever.
Goddammit, this was supposed to be a shortcut? A way for people working here to report to work without disrupting the dragons' peace and harmony out there? What, was the Warfang Temple supposed to be like Disneyland? Joshua almost tripped his feet on a loose tile. Shit! I think I'm starting to miss the eerie, claustrophobic tunnels...
"F*ck, man! Are we there yet?"
"Almost," replied Streeg.
"Where the hell are we?"
Copeland pointed another major crossing. A great stone door cut off the left turn. Four knights stood guard before it. Dragon Knights. "That's Egeria's Veil, boy. We're almost there!" Most of the crowd had dissipated beyond that point, going into the other side paths.
As they approached the crossing, Joshua heard muffled shouts coming from behind the door. People were arguing. His life sense picked up multiple spheres within, with two standing adjacent to each other. Of that pair, one wobbled back and forth, glowing red and picking up speed. All signs of irritation.
The yelling got louder, and before he knew it, a smaller door built into the great stone slab shielding Egeria's Veil from the crowds flew open.
"—of time, Uncle Dumitru." Joshua swore the voice sounded a little bit like Timmy Turner. "I'd rather do that than work my tail off on something I'm never getting thanked for anyway!"
"It's not about recognition, young boar! Not gratitude either! It is about tribute! Generosity! The smiles, the cheers, the happiness you see all around! AHAAAAAA!"
A mole wearing goggles stepped out of the door. He was several inches smaller than those Joshua encountered earlier, or constantly saw in the crowds. "Leave me alone, old man!" His muzzle wasn't as pointed, wasn't as wrinkly as theirs. The gamer watched the boar bare his fangs at the disembodied voice inside. "I don't want any part of your stupid, orgasmic—
"Galleron, how dare you! Get in here this instant or—
"MY NAME IS BLINK!"
The mole raised his feet, hooked the door with his bright yellow shoes, and slammed the door shut. He took a deep breath and lifted up his yellow goggles. He adjusted the headgear and fixed the blue bandana wrapped around his furry head. Then he turned left and took several steps stomping down the utilidor—
"Oof!"
—right into Streeg's chestplate.
Blink fell on his butt. He wiped snot off his pointy nose—Joshua noticed he had gloves on, a rare sight—and glared at the rhynoc. "Watch it, tinhead!" Blink yelled.
Streeg glowered down at the young boar and gave him his best, intimidating face. Thank God he didn't experience that! "Apologize."
"Why should I?" Blink got to his feet. He adjusted the suspenders on his body, and checked the waist pouches clipped onto him. "Do you even know who I am? I'm the Professor's nephew—
Brown, beady orbs locked onto Joshua's eyes. The eye contact lasted only a second before recognition set in. "The furless ape! What are you doing here? You don't belong in the utilidors."
Blink shoved his way past Streeg. Copeland swapped places with Joshua, hand over hilt, ready to strike. The mole paused at this, allowing Streeg the opportunity to reach back and knock Blink back to the fore.
"Don't test us," Copeland warned. "We don't care who you are. Try that again, little mole, and we will kill."
"I have a question for him."
"Apologize, little mole," Streeg commanded again.
Joshua stepped forward, just so he stood beside the leopard. There wasn't any way he risked someone stabbing at him frrm behind. "Alright then, kid. Shoot."
Streeg, Copeland, and even Blink ogled him, all demonstrating confusion. Joshua grumbled. F*cking culture! He really hated this place. "Just ask your question already!"
Blink hardened his glare. "Why are you here? Who gave you permission to enter the utilidors? This isn't a place for you."
Streeg declared, "No need to know. Step away—
"Volteer got me a job," Joshua cut him off. "So I'm checking it out." He may as well reveal this. It wasn't like this had any meaningful repercussions in the foreseeable future.
"A job?" Blink repeated. He was taken aback. "Why in the Realms is the furless ape getting a job?"
"That's none of your f*cking business, kid." Joshua waved him off. "Now how about you G.T.F.O.?"
The words passed through Blink's ears; comprehension came upon him, and now the boar gazed at him, stupefied. "There's only one job you qualify for down here," he said. "A manual scavenger?" Blink scanned the gamer from top to bottom. "But why? That's usually given to—you aren't suited for—
"AAH!" He suddenly gasped. "So that's why you're here!" Blink growled at Joshua. "I can't believe this. You're a scalelicker, just like the rest of them!" Before the gamer could react, Blink hawked a loogie and spat at him. It landed by his feet. He was relieved. Any closer, and he would've had mole spit on his tunic. "And I thought you were different!"
Streeg ambled forward. He came up to the mole. "Damn brat." Copeland also moved to assist.
"Catch me if you can, scalelickers!" Blink stuck his tongue out. He was even faster than the rhynoc. He reached into a waist pouch and fished out two dark orbs from within. "Here, my Blink Bombs say hello!"
He threw the spheres down to the floor. Tossed them as hard, as fast, as physically possible. Opaque smoke burst into existence and instantly engulfed the tunnels. Many screamed. Others stopped and waited for the smoke to dissipate.
Blink vanished into the air, like a ninja.
At least, that's how it was supposed to look like. From Joshua's perspective, the kid just ran off into a side corridor the second he was completely concealed by smoke. Whether he liked it or not, passive Detect Life had its perks.
"Little mole went where?" questioned Streeg, disoriented.
Copeland frowned. "H-he's gone."
"Actually," Joshua said, "He went that way." He pointed out the corridor Blink escaped to. "But let's just move on. We can't waste time with stupid, snot-nosed brats and their entitlement bullshit."
Their pace sped up tremendously once the crowd thinned out. Copeland explained that many of the people they saw down here lived here, sleeping in the Workers' Hall. The only ones who regularly took the tunnels leading outside the Temple were knights of Talonpoint Keep, laborers taking personal time off, or administrators who called the nearby districts home.
Streeg led Joshua Renalia to the Office of the Keeper. Like Egeria's Veil, a big f*cking ass door secured the section from the main utilidor. Two knights idled next to it, unmoving, much like the British guards at Buckingham Palace.
They subjected the trio to another security check, much like what transpired earlier at Residential Area 2F. Joshua had to hand it to them. They were really strict.
Unfortunately, Streeg had to stay behind at this point. The passages past the door were tight and narrow enough to accommodate two of the smaller bipeds side-by-side. Rhynocs, Gnorcs, and Atlawa were all too large to fit in this office. Copeland was lithe and slender enough to fit, yet his height forced the leopard to hunch down and slouch, just so he could also fit in this passageway and comply with his duty to provide Joshua security.
To a trained practitioner of management, the Office of the Keeper severely lacked a concept of efficiency. It was nothing more but multiple storage rooms all connected together by a central hub that acted as an office. The office in question was merely a few desks surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of documents, the contents of which were unknown to Joshua, and he had absolutely no desire to even think of finding out.
One of these desks was situated in the rear of the room, protecting color-coded shelves full of scrollcases from any would-be invader. A plaque on the desktop read "Over Steward Hoffbar". The glisteningly beautiful wooden armchair behind it was, strangely enough, empty, and too large for a mole. Joshua suspected its occupant was too busy to even sit in this chair.
Moles of the female gender—sows—manned the remaining workstations, their fur already graying if not already gray, frayed, and splitting. In unison they worked in silence, dipping carved sticks or quills in ink and writing God knew what on their parchments. Joshua observed one sow take a small rectangular item on her desk—something Joshua would have recognized as a stamp, had his family ever bothered bringing him to Gyeongbokgung or the Forbidden City—dip it in purple ink and slam the parchment with it. A noticeable, and rather satisfying, crack accompanied each and every time she stamped a document.
With strong observational and analytical skills innate to the mole species, the sows quickly noticed Joshua Renalia the second he walked into the Office of the Keeper. Several glanced up out of curiosity and promptly returned to their work. A few didn't even bother with him at all.
One, however, got up from her desk. Joshua watched her shuffle over to him, in a quirky manner that reminded him of a human ballerina. She then ushered him into a tiny room near the entrance. Its door was nothing more but a wooden panel with a handle tailor-made for species with opposable thumbs and tiny hands. Inside were two chairs and a small table, both crafted for people a little shorter than Joshua. "Wait here," she instructed. "Under Steward Nydec is on his way down." The gamer did not process how big he was compared to her until long after she returned to her work and Copeland stood guard by the door.
For the record, an adult mole of either gender reached up to his chest, with a natural girth comparable to an obese human being from the United States. However, Joshua couldn't quite recall that Blink kid having that same corpulent waistline. Either he'll grow into that later on, or these paper-pushers don't really represent the species...
A few minutes lapsed before he heard Copeland speak with somebody. Seconds later, the wooden door slid open. It struck the wall with an inelegant clonk.
"Sooooo!" Spoke—no, squealed the mole before him. "You must be the furless ape everybody in Warfang has been talking about all week."
"Human, actually," Joshua corrected him. "I'm not an Ape. I take it you're the guy giving me work?"
He couldn't tell if the mole heard the correction or completely disregarded it. "Yes, my good lad, that would be me. Under Steward Nydec, at your service."
"Joshua Renalia." Joshua rose from his chair and extended his hand. A gesture of greeting, honed and instilled into him by modern culture for at least a decade. "Pleasure to meet you."
Nydec took his hand and grasped it. Joshua was astounded. He didn't expect the handshake to work. It was clear the practice wasn't limited to the Bears after all. "Oh no, Joshua, the pleasure is all mine."
"W-what do you mean?"
Nydec stepped close, almost invading the gamer's personal place. Joshua resisted the urge to step back; he mustn't risk offending this guy. Hell no. At the very least, it was visual confirmation that the moles were naturally wider than human beings. "I'll be honest. I've been wanting to meet you for a while now. Ever since Master Volteer floated this idea through Over Steward Hoffbar I have fought for this opportunity. My groundhogs have the best evaluations in the past two years, and I made sure the cranky old bear had every reason to hand responsibility over you to me."
The gamer was nonplussed. "Why would you want to meet with me? I—
"Killed all those dragons last Torsha?" Nydec cut him off. "Yes, that's true. But! But, but, but, buuuut... you earned favor from two of the Allied Territories' highest authorities, AND more importantly"—he gushed—"you not only got a dragon to live with you but also got them to actually consider you family!" The mole took a deep breath, inhaling the air around Joshua's skin. "The nose knows, my hoo-man friend!"
"It's human."
Words streamed out of Nydec's mouth as though he didn't hear a thing. "The dried dragon saliva infused to your skin absolutely saturates the air around you with its unique odor. Faint it may be to the untrained, ill-equipped nostrils of the other bipeds, perhaps even your own, it is wonderfully puissant to moles like myself!"
Nydec inhaled. Joshua flinched, uncomfortable at how close the Under Steward was. "Aaahhh! So, utterly, intoxicating! I am honestly and truly jealous of you."
With Nydec this close, even Joshua caught the whiff of a faint, earthy smell. A familiar scent. Very familiar, as though he was exposed to it at least once every day. Yet the gamer couldn't identify it. It invoked the mental image of compost, but stronger, and more... repulsive. Bitter, even. "Dude, not too close, please! Jesus-Mary-Joseph, you f*cking reek shit!"
Joshua gasped and slapped his mouth. OH NO! That wasn't supposed to come out! F*ck. Insulting his boss before he even started on his first day? Unforgivable! That was a job-ender back on Earth. "Uh, uhm, uhhhh, I, I-I-I, I didn't—that wasn't—
That's what it should've been, had Nydec reacted like a human being instead of leaning back and posturing, proud. "Oh, you smell that? Why, I must thank you for your sincere compliment!"
"...H-huh?" What the hell?
The mole grinned at him. Lips curled back, fangs bared. His pulse bright and blinding in Joshua's sixth sense. "Joshua my friend, you just buried my groundhogs' worries in the shaft! Keep it up, and you'll surely get along with the other scavengers in no time at all.
"Now, how about we get out of this drab office and put you to work? I've got a groundhog working at the Library and there's a free slot in his labor."
Joshua acquiesced, still ensnared in a stupor thanks to Nydec's unusual behavior. The guy seemed nice, but he was weird as f*ck. He wrote a mental note to himself expressing the need to keep as far back away from this guy and minimize interactions with the freak.
Nydec led him out of the Office of the Keeper. Before following the eccentric mole, as he stepped out of the tiny office Joshua leaned close to Corvold. "Sir, uhm, is it just me, or is this guy a little... uhh...?"
He regarded him with as much emotion as a block of wood. His tail swished back and forth. "Crazy? You wouldn't be the first to say that. Moles in general are queer. Don't apply common sense to them, else they will drive you mad."
And so the trio became a quartet. With the Under Steward taking point, Copeland and Streeg trailed behind Joshua and formed a triangular formation around him. Nydec brought them back into the thick crowds of the utilidors, past Egeria's Veil and towards the crossing for the Library.
Not even the crowd could stop Nydec from babbling like a broken water spout. "The Warfang Temple is the apogee of our great City of Dragons. A superstructure carved to architectural perfection on White Mountain; a monolith reaching for the skies, towering over the surrounding plains and hills. Befitting for dragonkind! It is Warfang's center of power, and where the Allied Territories' matters of governance—any and all—are initiated, processed, resolved, and promulgated.
"A city within a city! More majestic than Castle Shadowstone to the north; as lofty as the Grand Celestial Palace of Skylands; and no less intimidating than Bastille Renatus high up in the Blackstone Mountains. It's very, very, very, very obvious copious amounts of blood, sweat, and tears are needed to keep this well-oiled machine running. It takes only one little delay, one little problem, one tiny error to throw the entire system into disarray." The mole stopped at the crossing. He gestured to the left, where the tunnel ended in a staircase, descending even further. "Over there are the kitchens. We've got a groundhog or two in charge of all the food you guys eat topside. Their labors cook 'em, stack 'em, and deliver 'em to facilities like Coalfire Refectory for serving. Decades ago before all this Malefor—Dark Master scat came about some absent-minded mole-rat double-counted our purchases of chinency leaves, loxodon ribs, yakyak steaks, and a few other supplies from Gilded Wings and submitted his tables to his Under Steward without double-checking the numbers. Take a guess what happened next."
"Uhm..." Nydec's words passed through Joshua's ears. Most of them, because they all sounded like adult concepts and terms he never bothered with back in Earth. Still, the human gave it some thought as they went on their way and started ascending a spiral staircase. "I, uh, I... guess you didn't have enough food for the next couple days?" he said, weakly. This grown-up shit wasn't really his strong suit.
"Oh he did more than that! More! As the story goes, because of his dumb mistake, the Under Steward back then didn't notice he had a shortage until a day before that year's Clawback Tournament! He tried to get it fixed, but the Councilor of Finance and Industry couldn't release the coin we needed in time for whatever reason. It was a complete disaster! The revelers ate up everything we had. Even the emergency stock! A promising apprentice actually died in the semifinals, because we ran out of food on top of a long string of bad luck. And because we didn't have a budget, all the other apprentices went hungry for a few days. Eventually they started a riot and wrecked the Temple!"
Joshua nodded his head as he listened, and tried—struggled to keep up with Nydec's impassioned narrative. He panted. Goddammit, when were these stairs gonna end? F*ck, he could barely understand the mole now. Hell, he continued to verbalize at a speed that could give Busta Rhymes a run for his money. Somewhere along the way, Nydec's words just blurred into a stream of inaudible sounds. At least, until he suddenly squawked. "Agghhh! Those poor dragons! So unfortunate. My heart just goes out to them!"
Nydec rounded on Joshua, a manic twinkle in his eyes. "Joshua, my friend, even if the work we're giving you means absolutely nothing to the engineering plan, it doesn't mean your work is no less critical! Believe me, a manual scavenger is one of the best jobs a blundering, incompetent mole could ever have! It demands the same level of devotion and care as artisans, yet requires not the ingenuity and knowledge of a master engineer, but still has a tremendous impact on the quality of life of all dragons living in the Temple. I cannot tell you how many times I've had to break up fights over an open slot."
"It's a fascinating story, Nydec, sir," Joshua spoke, hoping to get a word in. He felt a little guilty, being plastic to the mole, but it'd be worth it if it could get him to satisfy something he's been curious about ever since he met the guy. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"
"Not at all, but make it quick. We're almost there."
"Listening to the way you talk and knowing what I know about Warfang's history, you Moles really like dragons, huh?"
Copeland groaned behind him. "Huntress's Arrow," he muttered. "The ape's done it now."
"Ignorant hoo-man, we don't just 'like' dragons. That vulgar word understates the value—no! The esteem the Realms must hold for them! Dragons are not mere flying reptiles!" He flailed his arms around with all the energy and ferocity of a lunatic. "They are crucibles of magic beyond our comprehension. Incarnations of the fundamental forces that drive the world we all walk in, defying the laws of nature! How else are they able to soar in the skies, when their bones are dense and their muscles lack the power to raise them up?
"So don't ask why we Moles do all this for the dragons. Ask why the other species don't! We are ALL lesser species before their overwhelming power and majesty! Dragons can call upon the natural elements at will, and shape the very land with sheer magic alone. Don't you see, my friend? Dragons move the world, literally and figuratively! Even our glorious Savior—long may he live!—is a dragon!" Oh f*ck, Nydec started slurring his words. He swore the Under Steward was already calling the dragons 'dergs'. Jesus Christ, he really got him triggered. Joshua grimaced. His poor ears. No, his sanity! "Only dragons can utilize the magic crystals dotting our lands, and even their whelps—whelps shorter than my knee!—can easily take down full-grown gnorcs. What is that if not the blessing of the world? They deserve so much more. From me. From you. From us! From everybody in Warfang! After what the Dark Master, his Apes, and those grublin monstrosities did to them, they're at risk of dying out! I can't imagine dragons going extinct. Ask any mole worth his dirt—none of us can."
Nydec paused for a bit, not because he was finished, but simply to take in a deep breath and resume his tirade. "Do you even know how many are left? Do you? Whispers in the mineshaft talk of the reptiles numbering less than two hundred thousand throughout the Allied Territories. That may sound like a lot to a hoo-man from beyond the known world, but let me tell you, in Warfang—in this city alone, of the five million souls documented in the Office of the Keeper, Dragons number just a scant one—
A door suddenly opened, blowing Joshua back to reality. Had he been a more cautious or analytical person, he would've realized how he had followed the loquacious Under Steward Nydec, listened to his harangue, and ended up completely lost in the process. He no longer had a clue how they got to this narrow, one-way passage, or how many staircases they passed.
Neither did he care.
Because immense relief descended on his face. Thank God! He was saved! Finally he could leave this crazy lunatic behind, start the new job, and—
His face fell when another mole emerged from the door ahead. F, M, L. It's another cuckoo!
"Nydec!" laughed the newcomer. "I just knew it was you. The boars and I could hear your blustering all the way in there!" Joshua took a second to scan this guy. Roughly the same height and width as the Under Steward, as expected from the species. A toned and muscled body, made fit by years of hard labor. No pants and, unlike Nydec, no top either. All he had on his fur was a foul and earthy grime.
The two shook hands. Joshua frowned when he noticed the dirt left behind on Nydec's paw. Jesus f*cking Christ, did nobody in Warfang practice any form of hygiene? At all? "Sorry Gaudog, the hoo-man here asked me about dragons and—
"You got carried away." The filthy mole laughed. "Ha! Like any other true mole of Warfang!" He turned to the gamer, a second pair of beady eyes to gaze upon him. "So this is the furless ape, huh? He don't look like much." Gaudog hawked up a glob of spit and spewed on the wall. "To think this scrawny little pup has the same blessing the world has given the dragons."
"He calls himself 'hoo-man'," Nydec clarified. "Not an Ape at all—
"Not that it makes a difference to us."
"Yes! But despite being a dragon killer, not only has he been recognized by Master Volteer and Lady Cynder, he also..."
"Also what?"
"He smells of dragon saliva."
"Oh really?" Gaudog ambled to him. Joshua resisted the urge to back off. The smell emanating from the guy was repulsive this close. "A dragon has marked you as family?" Holy shit, a mixture of hate and awe shone in his gaze. Joshua knew he'd see the same thing in his sixth sense. "You? A dragon killer?"
Marked him? Last he checked, that term belonged to works of fanfiction involving animals, anthropomorphic or feral. Specifically, works of the romance genre, which depicted one character in a pairing receiving a love bite or some other form of affection from their partner that left marks on their body. Proof of claim, it was typically labeled. Joshua scrunched his face, disgusted by the insinuation and all it implied. Had he replied on impulse, he would've hurled an insult at Gaudog. But since the last thing he wanted was for them to start off on the wrong foot, Joshua Renalia restrained his tongue and opted for a more civil response. "Yes, me. I rescued her from Apes a couple weeks ago. Nursed the child from the brink of death." Not exactly true, but it did the job. "We've been together ever since, and she loves me."
"What malarkey," The mole snorted. "I'd bet a bag of coin you fed her lies."
Okay, it's official: he didn't like this guy at all. The mole didn't need to say that. Jesus, for a place that was supposed to exist only in a video game, it was feeling a lot more and more like another country back on Earth. So much for living a Spyro fan's greatest fantasy, huh?
"Hey ape pup! Take this!" Joshua's working hand fumbled over the small tools thrown over to him. They nearly fell. He sighed in relief. He didn't want to make a worse impression on the mole by having his tools clatter on the floor because of a little clumsiness. "Since Nydec forgot to introduce me, I'm Gaudog, the Groundhog in charge of the manual scavengers covering the Library, Coalfire Refectory, and several study halls on the lower sections of the Temple."
A scraper, a pan, and a small bucket. As he suspected, they were going to make him a janitor. For all the political power he wielded, the Electric Guardian Volteer could only manage this. It was a deadend job, and one of the lowliest back on Earth. Yet these kinds of work were the kind that taught patience and humility; that gave the laborer their first opportunity to show the world what they're made of. The rewards were neither money nor status, but rather satisfaction from knowing whatever duty that had been given was faithfully performed.
Even so, for a brief moment, Joshua's thoughts churned with images of shopping malls in Asia, where people in uniform cleaned up after hordes of visitors using a mop or a small broom. Their eyes were numb, lifeless; their faces deadened to the rest of the world. He remembered reading a CNN article how, in one of these countries, some of these people were so poor and underpaid that they routinely ate leftovers scavenged from landfills.
"Am I getting a uniform?" he asked his supervisor. They called them groundhogs down here? Man, the naming conventions of Warfang were weird. "And, like, protective personal equipment?"
Gaudog scoffed. "Why would you need those?" He repeated, voice drumming with disbelief. "You Apes are strange!" He patted his own fur. "See this? See all the dirt on me? That's our uniform here. We wear our work with PRIDE!" The mole brought his hand down Joshua's shoulder. He flinched. It was no less spindly and gaunt than the hand of a hamster, yet it had the force and weight of a seasoned grappler.
It smelled terribly. His own nose detected the noisome odor of a bitch's uncleaned—
Joshua was suddenly shoved to the door. "Now get in there! The other scavengers will show you the way. I'll follow as soon as I finish my talk with Nydec. Your escorts can stay outside."
When the gamer's request for a uniform or PP&E was rejected, his face sank from the realization that, like it had been for humankind in the Middle Ages, the people of Warfang were barbarians to the core, regardless of species. The disbelieving look on Gaudog's long, pointy snout evidenced the fact they had no concept, no notion, of uniforms as well as occupational health and safety. It was absolutely foreign to him, and it showed.
And when the gamer was shoved into the room, and Gaudog slammed the door behind him, he expected a musty corridor leading into the Temple Library, a location frequently visited by characters in Spyro fanfiction. He expected the other moles to be out and about, some carrying the same pans as he, filled with trash and other useless rubbish gathered from the floor—all of which would have explained the smell clinging to the air, to Gaudog's fur. He expected someone to notice him the second his supervisor pushed him in there, see the tools in his hands, and put him to work.
Rather, the scene that unfolded before Joshua Renalia filled him with profound horror and an irresistible urge to vomit.
His viridian gaze beheld a sight he could never "unsee" for the rest of his life. The ceiling sported four rows of five to eight holes each. The average diameter for the holes in each row increased considerably as it approached the wall on the other side. Dim light Joshua already associated with the glow-in-the-dark crystals blanketing the subterranean corridors and chambers of the Temple shone in from above, acting as a spotlight for the abominations directly beneath.
.
.
.
.
.
Specifically, the gargantuan piles of shit, spit, and piss accumulating and mixing in with each other.
Joshua's emerald eyes panned upwards, taking in the literal mountain of literal crap that towered far above him. At least ten f*cking feet above him. The smell that had been clinging to Gaudog's body, that lingered in the corridors outside, that cast a muted presence in the Office of the Keeper—the stench of literal f*cking bodily waste—assailed his nose, and overwhelmed the gamer.
"F*ck!" Joshua burped. Then he retched. His stomach squeezed what was his breakfast up his esophagus, and it took every ounce of his willpower to resist the impulse to regurgitate its contents and make his own, tiny contribution to the refuse before him. "F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, F*CKING F*CK—URP!"
"Oh my god." The human dropped to his knees and clasped his hands over his mouth, his nose. His tools clattered on the stone floor. He blanched the second he felt through his bulak trousers the cool, damp, and sickeningly muculent traces of excreta coating the surface. "OH MY F*CKING GOD!"
Joshua shuddered at each and every breath of this rancid air. He forced his eyes open, to see how his coworkers fared in this environment, and to his surprise, the ones closest to him—the ones who've noticed him—were all glaring. One of the scavengers actually got up and walked over to him. Joshua couldn't help but watch a piece of the muck attached to their fur—a f*cking, goddamn turd—slowly fall to the floor and make a disgusting splat.
"Hey you!" growled the scavenger. "I wasn't expecting much from the furless ape, but this? You dare?" He raised his tool, an old scraper with skid marks all over it, and aggressively pointed it at him. "You dare defile our honor? Our noble work? Just who do you think you are?"
Honor? Noble work? Jesus f*cking Christ, was he on Warfang's equivalent of acid or something? He's crazy! They expected him to help clean this up? This, this was madness! He looked up—looked past the scavenger in front of him and—
Joshua gasped. He couldn't believe his eyes. At the far side of the room was a team of moles whistling happily like Disney's Seven Dwarfs. He watched one literally dive into the pile, hold up a chunk of the excreta with its skeletal hands, and drop it next to yet another pair of moles. He saw the sincere glee glowing through their curved smiles while they bent down, picked up the wet, viscous junk with their bare hands and fed it into a hand-operated machine. It was a strainer, used for separating as much liquid from solid as they possibly could. A bucket identical to the one Gaudog had given him stood below one of its output pipes, collecting what was surely the foulest fluid his nose had ever breathed in this world. One pull of a lever and a dry, sticky log plopped out of another tube, joining many more in a woven sack.
"You're enjoying this," Joshua exclaimed. "You're all f*cking ENJOYING THIS! Jesus f*cking Christ, why? WHY? This is demeaning! Completely f*cking humiliating. I, I'm not laying my hands on any of this s-shit!"
"You think this is shameful, do you? A disgrace?" The scavenger seized Joshua by the tunics, raised him up by the collar, and shoved his snout on his face. "Stupid boar! This is for the dragons!"
"Aaaahhhh!" He squawked like a pig as the stench grew stronger, burping again. God, he wanted to hurl so badly. "Y-y-you f*cktards! You're all, y-you're all f*cking nuts!"
"An imbecile would NEVER understand why we love what we do, dragon killer. It is a great honor to work our noble profession!" The mole slapped Joshua's face and left behind streaks of literal shit on his cheek. "I'd kill you for this insult alone if you weren't favored by dragons."
The Moles had rocks for brains. They were batshit crazy. All f*cking insane. Why did they like being shitscrapers? He didn't—he couldn't understand any of them. Why? WHY? Why, why, why, why? Why the f*cking, flying f*ck did they—
That's when a line of thought sparked to life in Joshua's head, stemming from a forgettable piece of lore in the Legend trilogy. Wasn't Warfang built by the Moles to begin with? Didn't they freely give away this city to Dragonkind millennia ago? With no strings attached? And the sole reason they did it all in the first place, was to recognize the "great friendship" between their species?
Friendship. Joshua would have laughed if he was anywhere near his room. No. That wasn't friendship. It was fanaticism. Servile fanaticism! Bloody hell, mole culture could be summarized in just one line...
Borderline dragon-worshipping!
"Since you're working with us anyway, maybe I'll try educating you. It's the least I should do as your workfellow."
W-what? What did he—
Joshua gasped. He stayed up in the air; the scavenger kept him aloft, with only one hand wrapped up in his collar. Heavenly Father, this guy was strong! He linked to the mole with his sixth sense, connected to his pulse of life, sensed the anger—the indignation spinning through his soul, but Joshua couldn't use—he didn't want to use his Element. Not here. Volteer pulled a lot of strings—expended his political favors—just to get this job for him. He couldn't fight back. He MUSTN'T fight back! But, God Almighty, this was so incredibly, profoundly, overwhelmingly disgusting that—
"No! No-no-no-no!" Joshua clawed at the mole's hand in a vain attempt to pry the bony fingers off him. He was hauling him to the nearest pile. The stench worsened. The urge to vomit strengthened. Nausea assaulted his head. "NO! NO-NO-NO! Don't do this." He was getting closer. He could see each individual hill on the mountain, the cracks on each bump of excreta. The slick mucus glistening on the surface. Mother of God, he didn't want any of that anywhere on his skin. "F*cking hell, n-n-n-no, don't, I, I'm not ready! I'M NOT READY! F*CK! DUDE, LET ME GO! LET GO! AGH! JESUS-MARY-JOSEPH, F*CK!"
"What's going on here?" Gaudog's booming voice echoed in the grimy chamber. "Lay off the pup, Vradik. He's new to our ways."
"B-but Gaudog—
"That's groundhog to you while on duty," Joshua's supervisor said, sternly. "Now set him down, on his feet." A moment passed. "Now!"
The scavenger did as he was told. Joshua sighed from relief the second he felt his sandals touch the wet floor. Almost immediately he skittered farther from the pile of organic dragon waste he'd almost been shoved into.
Vradik renewed his protest, "Groundhog, this Ape insulted our honor! He slanted the greatness of our noble profession. Called our irreplaceable service to dragonkind 'demeaning', and 'completely humiliating'! I am merely acting on my role as mentor. There is nothing wrong with that!"
Gaudog groaned and massaged his temples. Joshua shuddered at the sight of his gunk-coated fingers leaving behind more traces of shit on his fur. God help him, even his own supervisor looked no different from the other scavengers.
"Ape pup," Gaudog addressed Joshua, his voice surprisingly taking on an intelligent tone, "I know our culture is as foreign and as strange to you as it is to any of the other species in our city, but you should—you must respect it. This is who we are. This is what we believe in." He glared straight into his viridian eyes.
"B-but, Gaudog—sir! Groundhog Gaudog"— God, he almost laughed out loud just verbalizing the name and title—"This, t-this is revolting! I thought I was going to sweep floors, pick up trash, clean tables—t-tha-that, t-that sort of thing! Not, n-n-n-not this disgusting crap!" Joshua tried very hard to ignore the contracting spheres of life surrounding him, each becoming more scarlet with anger the longer he spoke. "It's dirty, it's gross, it's unhygienic! I could get sick and-and-and—
"You are here only because Master Volteer personally endorsed you to Over Steward Hoffbar. Do NOT forget that."
Joshua wasn't an idiot. He knew exactly what that meant. The city was not obligated to provide him with employment. Neither were its officials duty-bound to give him even the luxury of an ordinary life, or at least, whatever passed for that in this Spyro world. Many would rather have him languish in that room or in Proudtail Hall for the rest of his days, and for sure they would have their way if he f*cked this up to kingdom come, one way or another.
So he had to commit. He needed to commit.
Gaudog picked up the tools Joshua dropped. "Ape pup." He did not so much hand it over to him as he shoved it onto his tunic. An unsettled whimper made its way out his mouth when he realized a piece of shit the size of his thumb had gotten stuck on him. "Your aversion to these precious egesta is understandable, so I will overlook this disrespect. But you have only one job here, and it shall be done as it has been for centuries. Do I make myself clear?"
"Y-yes, sir."
The groundhog nodded. "Good." He pointed at a small lump of waste at the edge of the mountain of gross. Joshua gulped. It was half as he was tall and twice his width. "That scat needs to be strained and dried. Gather it up however you want to and bring it over to the strainer moles for processing."
"But, Mr. Gaudog—S-sorry, I, I mean, Groundhog Gaudog, look at me!" He jerked his head at his right arm. "I only got one working arm! See? And, a-a-aaand I'm suffocating in this air. I, I can't do my work without feeling my stomach tearing at itself inside-out—
"Huhuuuu!" Vradik wailed, his voice pitched in disdain. "The dragon killer can't even handle a simple task like this? You're useless!"
One of the strainer moles chimed in, "Ha! More like worthless!"
"Hey, dragon killer, look at me!" A third scavenger jogged over to the nearest clump of shit and made his best impression of Brother Curtis from Spyro 2's Colossus. "Hey, look what I can do!" He brought his snout literally inches above the disgusting thing and took in deep, deliberate breaths. Several. The mole sighed from contentment. "Aaaahhhhhh... See? It's so easy!"
Bolstered by these jeers, the other scavengers started mocking him. Words like "pathetic", "useless", and "worse than trash" were tossed at Joshua Renalia continuously, and it went on for several moments until one mole decided to go and yell out, "Groundhog Gaudog! We don't need this unproductive dead weight bringing the whole labor down! Get that dragon killer out of here and send him back to wherever they're keeping him!"
Gaudog opted for silence and raised his paw. The gesture instantly quieted the taunting. Joshua, nervous and uncertain, beheld the unimpressed look on his muzzle. "You shouldn't have accepted the job," he said, deadpan.
"I don't have any other choice, sir," Joshua retorted. He turned away, unable to look at his supervisor in the eye. "It's either this or I rot away in my room for life." God have mercy on him; maybe he'd be better off jumping off that balcony after all. At the very least, he'd end this whole "Humans in the Realms" bullshit on his own terms. But I, I can't just leave Kilat behind...
Gaudog took a couple steps closer. Joshua fought against the impulse to step back from the disgusting fumes rising off of his fur, to show his respect. To show he wasn't as weak—as pathetic they all probably thought he was. "Everyone in this chamber knows what you've done last Torsha, little pup. The fact you're down here, right now, in the utilidors, means you've got a mineaxe somewhere in you. No one in my labor will deny that. But if you want to raise your station, if you're really serious about earning your place in Warfang, then shut your mouth and work for it."
"Don't bother, Groundhog," Vradik interjected. "He doesn't have what it takes. Just let him be. The dragon killer will never make it out there anyway."
Gaudog ignored him. "So what'll your choice be? Everything you want starts HERE."
Joshua hissed. He didn't answer. He hesitated to answer. His brain kept pushing him to one conclusion, to one course of action, but his heart—his dignity as a human being, he... he couldn't... he simply couldn't do any of this. This was—Aahh, f*ck.
F*ck this.
F*ck it all!
Guess he was one of those self-entitled millennials after all, huh?
"Alright," Joshua gave in, at last. "You win. I'll do this shit, as long as I don't get too dirty. I still have a dragon bathing me."
Envy flashed in Gaudog's eyes for a brief moment before the mole smirked at him. "Very well. Looks like there's hope for you after all," he said, echoing Copeland's sentiments earlier at the Residential Area. "Since that's all settled now..."
The groundhog then returned his attention to the rest of the group. "Back to work, all of you! We have deadlines to meet, boars, so STOP WASTING TIME!"
Author's Notes:
Heh, lots of lessons there for readers, and it may just hit close to home. I've actually been on the receiving end of something that sound similar to Gaudog's lectures two or three times... somewhere between 2012 and 2014.
Anyway, I want to talk about progression a little bit. Together with this update, it's been 14 chapters since Aimless went into the non-linear "slice of life" mode. Majority of it is set in Joshua's first week. A lot of ground has been covered since then. Mainly in terms of world-building, but also a little bit on Joshua's personal story too.
So, from the next chapter onward, the timestamps will be moving past the first week. I'm very excited to write stuff far beyond this time period, really. There's so much to go through. :D
...and if you were wondering, yes, that was Blink from Spyro: A Hero's Tail. He's... not going to have that stupid "fresh-air-a-phobia" from the game. We will be seeing him again.
Replies to reviews:
Plague Dog Unleashed. Aha! A Firelight reader, eh? Hehe, that fic is awesome! I just couldn't resist slipping it in there.
Abysmal Void. Thanks for the review! Hope to see you again in the next chapter.
Anon 1 (Guest). Since when have I stopped writing Aimless? I haven't gone on a hiatus ever. Unlike my other major fic...
Anon 2 (Guest). No comment on Joshua's personal story. What would he even do in the Classic world anyway?
SKdaGamer. Hehe, I hoped you liked this chapter then. I love writing Kilat too; such a sweet child. XD Hope to see you in this chapter as well.
SonicDJM. Dude, you disabled private messaging (PMs) on your profile. I couldn't reply to you.
Either way, thank you very much for your review, and for following me all this time.
I've already seen that fic. Browsed through it quickly, just to get a feel for it, but not enough for me to give it more... scrutiny. I suppose it won't hurt to check it out again. (Throws that fic in the same reading list as Demonised)
PsycoDragonKiller. You, sir, have just summed up Joshua's reaction for this chapter. XD Thanks for the review!
Velocicopter. Oho... you know what a manual scavenger is? Well, well, well... that is interesting. I hope you found this chapter to your liking then.
Sounds like you have a good grasp of the Unknown Element's nature.
As for Kilat... I will eventually get to a point where Aimless will feature Kilat-only chapters or Kilat-only development. She has quite a few snips already set in stone.
BTW! Let me know whenever that fanart you got of Kilat is up. I'm looking forward to it :D
Chaoscontrol108. HEEEEYYY! Like, thank you for your review! Yours was #400! :D
I'm glad you find the world I'm building very much alive. Your words mean I'm doing very well in that regard, especially when chapters like these are the real reason why I started Aimless to begin with. This is ultimately a story of "making a life for oneself" after all.
Sol1234. Hey! Thanks for your review.
Actually, it'll be a long time before we get to that point. There are a few prerequisites that Joshua needs to accomplish before he can even set foot outside Warfang's walls, the least of which is Joshua getting his own circle of friends (much like what happened in SnickerToodles' The Impossible Sky). Plus, the main reason I started Aimless is to tell a story about adaptation, hence the overwhelming abundance of snips/chapters tagged with the "City Life" category.
This DOES NOT mean there will not be an ending to Joshua's story, however. There is a point in the timestamp where there will be another shift in the storytelling, and it's tied to the journey home.
LoNeWoLf (guest). Thank you for your review! Glad you're still loving my fic.
Joshua's left arm. It's barely functional after Skydancer injured him at the Gates and it healed wrongly. He starts receiving physical therapy for it during his second month, which falls somewhere between "Teacher's Pet 1" and "Keeping Time ".
Angstcannon. Hello! Thanks so much for the review.
I'm guessing you meant "minute detail", right? Anyway, yes, if it isn't obvious by now, Aimless is driven heavily by all those little details glossed over by many other fanfiction, whether it's in the Spyro fandom or otherwise. Soooo I'm really really, REALLY glad you're here for the world-building.
It's been a very difficult endeavor, too. Merging all three continuities (Classic, Legend, Skylanders) into one coherent whole is hard as hell, but the effort is now starting to bear fruit and I hope you stick around long enough to see the good stuff that'll happen much later on.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, BTW.
Piston24. Hey Piston!
It's understandable you felt that way. When Aimless properly entered Warfang, there were all sorts of things that had to be set up, and from your perspective as the reader, it certainly appears to be random with no clear direction. The decision came at the risk of turning off several readers, and while it had rebuffed a few (or maybe those same people are just waiting for things to get interesting?), as I wrote to Angstcannon, it is now starting to bear fruit.
So thank you very much for sticking it out. I'm glad it has grown on you. I think you'll have a much better appreciation of all the work I've been putting into the world-building once the timestamps climb higher and higher.
See you in the next chapter!