Of all the dismal, dreary-weather fates Raina had ever believed herself destined for—either by dint of blind circumstance, her genuinely poor upbringing, or a succession of even poorer life decisions—life as a slave to an intelligent race of spirit beasts had likely never even crossed her mind.

And the funniest thing was?

She was actually starting to believe that, now of all times, she had a fairly decent chance of turning her life around. Likely the best chance she’d get, for a while yet, at any rate.

And it wasn’t just because Edmund, the bastard, insisted on keeping to strict booze rations until the mission was complete. Though a small part of her, the part she disdained to acknowledge, did recognize that it likely played a role.

It took time to sift through the massive under city—in search of the treasures and trinkets their rodent overlords seemed to covet so highly—though not nearly as much time as they no doubt believed, stranded as they were on the other side of the outer walls.

Which often left room for activities—small, harmless distractions that helped wile away the day, while they waited for something… anything to happen.

For Edmund it usually meant a whole lot of doodling—using his finger to trace lines in the dust, while mumbling incoherently to himself. An island of strange calm, he was habitually surrounded by all manner of arcane scribblings.

He said it was to help keep his rune-work sharp, though to Raina it still looked like so much gibberish, even after nearly a decade spent in each other’s company.

For Arthur it meant time spent in deep meditation, as he no doubt went over his talents, techniques, and abilities again and again in that obsessive way he had. Going over contingencies, his back up plans for said contingencies, and then how he might possibly improvise should his preparations prove inadequate.

In many ways, paranoia wasn’t the worst thing to have in a spacial practitioner, though it did have a way of grating on one’s nerves after a while.

For Raina it generally meant pining for the next drink between naps.

And, as for Viviana, the most practical of their merry little band, it usually meant training up the kiddies for war.

“Now widen your stance! Remember, the perfect strike is not achieved by simply flailing one’s arms about! A solid strike must have a solid foundation. Counter intuitive though it may seem, a good blow starts from the soles of your feet. You can think of them as your roots. It’s where most of the power you’ve seen me display ultimately comes from. Well, that in addition to impeccable technique, a few decades worth of practice, and an obscene amount of natural born talent. Though, that’s neither here nor there.”

The ripple of laughter which followed said pronouncement made Raina want to roll her eyes. This wasn’t a new side to the swordswoman she was seeing. Respect, devotion, the swooning adoration of her juniors—half of them all but smitten with her, with the other half wanting to be her outright.

Viviana practically ate that shit up.

Never mind that she was a raging narcissist at the best of times, and a fun-sponge when in less impressionable company. Not that Raina thought her reasoning wasn’t sound. After all it would be a serious setback, should one of these brats come to harm before they’d served their purpose.

What rankled was simply that her motives weren’t nearly so pure as she’d have them believe.

They were sequestered within the once grand courtyard of a massive underground estate. Drab stone walls, topped with grey shingles, hid them from the greater city beyond.

Everything around them made of stone and layered with dust—this included the many statues, dry fountains, and hidden alcoves harboring light crystals spaced tastefully throughout—though whether that was by design, or if it was simply all that withstood the test of time was anyone’s guess.

A thin cloud of dust hovered over the center of the courtyard were Viviana and her brood diligently trained. Meanwhile Raina, for her part, lay sprawled out on a stone bench at around spectating distance, the comatose body of their would-be contact slash employer snuggled up at her side.

The girl was nearly the perfect cuddling size after all, and so long as she wasn’t going to be getting any use out of it, her limp body made for an excellent pillow.

“No offense.”

As expected, the little girl did not respond.

She gave the kid’s ratty mess of tangles a couple of headpat’s regardless, ignoring the grimy feel of the wheat-blonde locks on her skin. It wasn’t as if she’d catch anything she didn’t already have. After a little over a week spent toiling away in the under, waiting for their mark to finally show up, there wasn’t a one of them present that couldn’t use a nice hot bath. If anything, the children were worse.

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

Seeing as they’d been stuck down here, abducted and enslaved, well before her team’s arrival. As it was, she could only hope that their target showed his face sooner rather than later. She relished the idea of going another week without a decent drink about as much as she did their too vague assignment.

“Find the lost children. Keep them safe. When the time is right, they will lead you to the one I seek. Find him. Bind him. Bring his soul to me, and you may consider our business concluded.”

Now normally, had someone come up to her with nothing but vague riddles, and even vaguer promises, in place of a hard contract written in common, as the head of their little mercenary outfit, she’d have been the first to stick her steel-toed boot where those riddles rightly belonged. And don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Would have too, were the pay even a fraction less than it had been.

As it was, the payout they’d receive for this single job was likely the most lucrative out of every odd job they’d taken over the many years combined. It represented a greater opportunity than even their employer was likely aware of.

And all they had to do was find a single boy.

In fact, if their employer was correct, it should be even easier. Because in that event, all they really had to do, was wait for him to come to them.

image [https://i.ibb.co/rw6tMBB/IMG-2711.png]

Snagging the rodent by the scruff of its neck, Jun was just barely able to yank it away in time.

Diving behind a hidden alcove, he tried desperately to get a handle on his breathing as whatever they were rapidly approached. With surprising strength, the little beast almost squirmed its way free immediately, though not before he viciously clamped down on it, curtailing its struggles, at least for the moment.

By then, it was all that he could do to keep it, and by extension himself, from making any noise.

It’d been a very close thing, all things considered. As the rat raced towards, what they could only surmise by the sounds to be a large group of… creatures, he’d been presented with a troublesome dilemma.

Was a lack of discovery worth losing their only potential lead? Because his little rat friend—for whom he simply had to pray was leading them in the right direction—was apparently dead set on a collision course with the aforementioned gathering of unknown entities.

Of course, it went without saying that the rodent couldn’t simply be allowed to walk away. Not after the blatant disrespect it’d shone him. His aura practically flared with indignation at the thought. And so, he’d decided it was about time he show this stupid rat the true disparity that separated them.

With barely a thought he sped up his circulation, tensed, then launched himself at the vile beast…!

Overshooting its now retreating form by about half a dozen meters.

Stupid legs.

He really needed to get a handle on just how much was too much with this new ability. Luckily for him, the furry little fiend had been expecting his sudden flight just about as much as he had. That moment of stunned, almost incredulous stillness had been all of the opening he’d needed.

Now, as the creatures passed by their cozy little nook, he was able to confirm what he’d already suspected.

They weren’t human.

That much was obvious. They were rat like in a way, though much larger—only a little shorter than him at 5”6–bipedal on the whole and ugly as sin. Snaggletoothed and oddly jointed, most wore nothing but the matted fur on their backs, while others flaunted roughly sown rat-hide cloaks.

Fashioned from what looked to be dozens upon dozens of their smaller rat brethren, they hadn’t even had the wherewithal to sever any of the bright pink tails. Tails which instead flopped about by the dozens, as the creatures strolled on by. Jun had to stop himself from shivering at the sight.

Apart from the hooded figures who marched along unarmed, most of the rat people held crude weapons in their clawed hands. Things of chipped stone and carved ivory. They wielded everything from spears, to daggers, axes, and more.

He even thought he saw a few war-hammers mixed in.

Unrefined though they might’ve been, however, he was under no illusions. Even he knew that a blunt weapon could still kill so long as time wasn’t an issue.

Jun counted thirty-five of the rat-kin, though, as to where they were all headed, he could honestly say that he couldn’t care less. All he really wanted was his breathing manual back, and then he’d be gone from this place as quick as you could say- aargh!

Jun jerked his hand away from the evil little biter, and that lapse in restraint was just enough for it to wrestle itself free. Screeching bloody murder, it made a b-line straight for the retreating army of rat-kin.

But no… There’s no way they can possibly understand it, right?

As if in response to his question the rat-kin turned towards his little alcove in unison.

Oh, you little rat!

With Ivory tugging on his shirt sleeve, insisting they stay, Jun stepped out from hiding, fully aware that they’d been made. He tried to appear as nonthreatening as possible. Dismissing his cutting aura and everything, despite the obvious comfort it gave him.

You never knew. Perhaps they could be reasoned with.

That was when one of the hooded rat-kin pointed a gnarled finger in his direction. This slender rat creature then let out an ear-piercing screech. And, in the next moment, they charged.