When the day arrived when I descended down to the sewers of Velgrada, I expected it to be not my favorite job... But it was worse than I expected. Yes, I knew by the way the task was worded that it was a typical job for Bronze-ranked adventurers, something tedious and dirty but necessary and easy to gain some combat experience. But the smell... That was what I wasn''t prepared for. As for the rats? I mean, rat-kin? Not that bad. These creatures weren''t fully sapient, but they were more cunning than simple vermin, often forming territorial nests in the city''s underground tunnels. That part I discovered from Isak, the clerk we managed to befriend a little. Thanks to him, I learned that they bred quickly, scavenged aggressively, and occasionally attacked sewer workers or even ventured topside to snatch food or anything ''shiny.'' The city didn''t take kindly to that, especially if they found their way into the local banks, so adventurers were regularly sent to the sewers to take care of their population.
The entrance to the sewers, at least the one I took, was near one of the quieter canals, a rusted iron grate that groaned loudly as I pried it open, alerting anybody and anything nearby for sure. Not that I had any mind to pay attention to it, as the stench hit me immediately.
"Fuck..." I muttered, covering my face with my scarf.
Stagnant water, mold, rot, and something faintly metallic made its way up my nostrils, forcing my stomach to churn. Still... I had no other choice, so I just sighed, adjusting the scarf now wrapped around my nose and mouth before descending into the darkness.
Of course, I didn''t come unprepared. I had a small cranking lamp, a strange little torch that I could stick on the bandolier I was wearing, leaving my hands free. Heading in, giving it a few cranks, its dim, yellow light flickered against the damp stone walls, casting shifting shadows, matching the rhythm of my walk. The deeper I got, sword in hand, the air was getting thick and humid, getting past the scarf and clinging to my skin like a second layer of grime. Geez... I will stink even the day after tomorrow! After about a minute or two of walking, I arrived at a junction, stopping and trying to listen to which direction I should head. And, of course, memorizing my way, leaving a small mark on the stone wall with the tip of my sword.
In the end, I followed the path that was going toward the right as I remembered that the left was heading under the canals. And I wasn''t keen on that. While walking, I was constantly looking for signs of the rat-folk''s movements. Claw marks in the slime, gnawed bones discarded in corners, scattered tufts of greasy fur, everything that Isak mentioned to keep an eye out for. However, there was something else bothering me than the threat of a ratman appearing and trying to bite my ankles. The deeper I went, the more the walls seemed to close in, the ceiling low enough that I had to stoop occasionally to avoid scraping my head. Or... was I simply getting claustrophobic? I didn''t know I had an issue like that...
"Get yourself in order Auriel..." I told myself, shaking my head, continuing my trek without running into anything so far. Which was good and bad at the same time because without bringing back some cut of tails as proof, I wouldn''t get paid.
However, as I navigated deeper into the tunnels, something suddenly caught my eye—something unrelated to the job.
There was a section of the sewer that should have been abandoned and shouldn''t have had signs of recent activity. But it had. Shining my light on the clues, getting a bit closer, the stone floor was cleaner than the surrounding muck, as if someone had deliberately swept it. Or the thing that was coming through wiped it off. It had to be... something heavy because I noticed that faint bootprints were marking the damp ground, leading toward a recessed alcove hidden behind a crumbling wall. It was as if one, no... two? Three people... Yes, three people were pushing something in here. I immediately slowed my steps, keeping my heart rate steady, but my mind was already racing. If someone brought something down here... they weren''t exactly law-abiding, were they? Quickly, I extinguished my torch, plunging myself into near-total darkness, and waited a little. I was trying to hear if there was anybody here... hiding after hearing I was coming. There could be... Still, the faint sound of dripping water was the only noise I could pick up on. I should be... safe.
After a moment of hesitation, I edged closer and peered inside the alcove, right where the clues were pointing... and, well, bingo.
Crates. At least four of them, but more could be hiding behind the ones I could see. They were all stacked neatly, too dry and intact to have been down here long. Maybe not even a day... Their surfaces bore markings, one that I couldn''t recognize. But it was an insignia that was pressed into the wood, a symbol of some groups, probably. Smugglers? Bandits? Or something more official? I will have to check after I return to the surface, so I quickly memorized it. Looking around once more, I turned my little torch back on, checking them briefly. Apparently, the crates were sealed tightly, and I was not about to try and force them open to see what was inside. That would give away too much, and I should leave; it was too dangerous to linger for this long here...
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I had a job to finish, after all.
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Dealing with the rat-folk took time. Not much, but at least it was better than I expected. When I found another, more prominent junction connecting five different routes, I decided to set up a trap. I baited them out with chunks of salted meat, hiding in the dark and striking with precision and speed as they emerged from the shadows. They were actually more rat-like than human-like. Hairy, about the size of a well-fed hog, many times standing on their hind legs, their front pair showing the ability to grab things as they squeaked against each other.
Of course, when I struck the first few, killing them swiftly, my sword entering their unprotected bodies with ease, the creatures fought back. Their beady eyes glinted in my suddenly blinding torchlight, claws slashing at nothing but the air. I should thank Isak for the tip, telling me they are not used to sudden, bright lights, using it to my advantage to dispose of the group before me quickly. Information... is king.
"Well..." I stood amongst five dead rat-kin, "That''s fine for today... I am not going to risk more." I exhaled, not wanting to risk it. If I get cocky... that would benefit nobody. It was time to collect some rat tails and get out of here.
By the time I had reported back to the guild and collected my payment, there was only one thought that kept bothering me... those darned crates hadn''t left my mind, not for a moment. Curiosity gnawed at me since returning to the surface, so later that evening, I did what any careful ''detective'' would do—I started digging for answers.
My first stop was one of the merchant districts closest to the inn where we were staying. Even now, streets here were bustling as the sun dipped below the horizon, lanterns were already lit on the top of street lamps, locals were walking around, lighting them, and... well, grimacing when they passed by me. Well, shit. I did just get out of the sewers; that''s true. Haaah... Anyway, ignoring the fact that I was looking not for people but for merchants as they called out their wares, their voices blending with the clatter of carts and the hum of conversation. I wasn''t interested in what they were selling; I wanted to hear their organizations'' names and see their logos. I wanted to know if the things I found were stolen goods or stuff from smugglers.
Luckily for me, it didn''t take long to find a trade office bearing the same insignia I had seen on the crates. According to the plaque next to the entrance, the building belonged to Veren & Sons Trading. I couldn''t tell if they were a well-established merchant operation or not, but the fact they had a sizeable place for themselves told me they had money. No wonder because apparently, thanks to one of their merchants shouting at a nearby stall, they specialized in ''the best'' alchemical goods and rare imports. That alone set off alarm bells in my mind... Because this meant potions, and potions were valuable. Now... did they lose a shipment, or was that just the type of goods that were not for sale hm? Interesting.
Spending another hour of casual observation at a nearby tavern filled in the rest of the picture. The tavern of my choice was called The Rusty Anchor, and it was a dimly lit establishment, apparently frequented by the workers maintaining the canals in the city, stinking just the same way I did. Blending in, I sat in a corner, nursing a tankard of ale and keeping my ears open, hoping to hear some news. I also kept an eye on the trading company and tried to count how many people came and went from their building. How busy they looked.
It was half an hour later that my ears caught something. A hushed conversation between two gondola drives confirmed what I already suspected: Veren & Sons had been robbed two days ago. One of their colleagues was ferrying goods when he had been hit, and a shipment of potions had vanished. There were no arrests and no leads, yet just a frustrating silence from the city guard, who likely had bigger problems to deal with than a ''simple'' robbery.
"Interesting... Still, it could be an inside job..." I thought to myself while I leaned back in my seat, considering what to do.
Those crates in the sewer weren''t abandoned, that is for sure—they were stashed. If the situation was legit, the thieves hadn''t moved the goods yet, likely waiting for the heat to die down before transporting them. And that, in turn, meant that Veren & Sons would be very interested in any information regarding their whereabouts if they wanted to get them back. Maybe they even had an angry buyer waiting for it. Hm...
For the first time, I entertained a thought I hadn''t considered before: Information was indeed valuable—possibly more valuable than labor or the potions. And it seems I have a knack for finding information, including the documents that led Risa to an elven artifact.
I had a piece of knowledge that others would pay for, and if I handled it correctly, this could be the first step toward getting a good amount of money by literally doing... nothing.
But I couldn''t just march up to Veren & Sons and sell them the location. That would be foolish and probably suicidal. I needed a cover, an approach that wouldn''t make me seem like the thief or, worse, put me on the wrong side of the actual gang who stole the goods. Plus, if the bandits realized someone had uncovered their hiding spot, they''d move the stash. Then, they would try to eliminate the loose end—me.
"Tsk... I need to prepare, and do it well... and quick." I thought as I tapped my fingers on the table, thinking through hundreds of ideas.
I needed a persona and a method of feeding information to those who needed it without revealing who I was or even offering anonymity to those who wanted to buy information. If I wanted to do this, I wouldn''t be some common informant or snitch—no, I need to be untouchable, hidden, someone whose identity remained unknown but whose information was always reliable.
Suddenly, it was a thrilling, dangerous feeling, an idea, but one that had great potential. If I played my cards right, this could be the foundation of something much bigger than adventuring for coins or, shaking down brothel owners or smuggling... flour. Tsk.
But first, I had to prepare. As for how... First, I had to take a bath. Then, I had to have something to eat. And a good night''s sleep. With a fresh mind, the ideas will come too!