“So, here it is, the wonder that is the Spire’s Cesspit!” Virgil cheerfully announced, his right arm performing a sweeping arc

We were beneath the spire, 4 floors down. The smell was ungodsly, me and Kevin both choking and gasping as soon as the heavy metal doors opened. The walls were slimy and stained. Faded brown gritted the walls, the vaulted ceiling speckled with holes that led from numerous abodes and drains. Every so often there was a splash or plop depending upon whether the hole was directly over one of the multiple piles of feces jutting out like mountains and cliffs from the fetid waters.

Excepting the first basement floor, all others were reserved for experimentation, storage, cells, or other miscellaneous usage by the higher ups. This was no doubt the reason for the blood, organs, and strange fluorescent colors that swirled amidst the brownish black fecal matter and urine.

I coughed and choked a bit more, the bile in my stomach being kept down due to force of will alone. Kevin threw up whatever he’d eaten before over the side of the path and into the cesspit proper. I couldn’t fault him, I had to redouble my own efforts to keep my stomach from churning upon seeing that.

The low-pitched slope that led us here continued into the heart of the muck. Virgil led his mule to a broad level section, where he maneuvered the wagon so that the mule was now facing towards the door. Although my water arcane informed me that the liquid was mostly water, its pollutants were innumerable and strange.

This was going to be a nasty job, I glared at Virgil. He grinned back, anticipating my look.

“You clean out all the solid shite, 1 and a half large silvers.”

I looked back at the waste. In Indigo Hamlet, we had cesspits as well, though in Sapphire proper there was an actual sewage system that emptied into the Madens River.

“How deep is it?”

“Thigh de…, bah, ha, ha, deep! Oops, sorry! Aye, thigh deep! You two just shovel all the solid bits into the wagon and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“How often do you have to do this?” Kevin asked, his face pale green.

“Oh, only abouts once every week, but that’s when school’s in session. When we’ve classes, we have the senior earth mages extract the nastiness with their arcane. When there aren’t no classes, it’s gotta be done by hand.”

“Uh, what about the urine?”

“Oh, that drains off, most of the time. Unfortunately, all the outflows are blocked, probably because no one’s cleaned this place in weeks.”

“Isn’t that your job?” I asked accusingly.

“Hey, mind your manners, young’un! I had walls to protect, enchantments to be kept up, tasks to be done, m…”

“Oh, tasks! You mean like the kitchen garbage?”

“Humph! You said you wanted work, were you just lying?”

I glared at the old man, failing in the least bit to intimidate him. I sighed and turned to Kevin.

“Grab a shovel, we’ll jump in, shovel the poop onto the landing, then get out and shovel that into the wagon. Hopefully we’ll get an outflow unblocked sooner rather than later to drain off the urine.”

I took my robe and chainmail off and carefully placed them somewhere moderately clean.

“Uh, Tome? How about I stay up here and fill the wagon with what you gather?”

His meaning was crystal clear, Tome, why don’t you wade through all that shit and piss while I stand here with my thumb up my ass?

“Let’s go Kevin.”

“But Tome, this isn’t what I promi…”

“Kevin, we made a deal. It’s a shitty deal, I know, but every man has to honor their word.”

“Tome…”

“KEVIN, when the lamia nearly ripped you in twain, did I abandon you?”

“Well, no…”

“No, and let me ask you, the next time you need someone to stand beside you, who do you have?”

“Well, my friends from Earth like Andy, and also Verdia, and Mintha!”

“How long have you been friends with all of them?”

“Uh, well, probably four days.”

I looked at Virgil, “Virgil, how many people would stick their neck out for yours after knowing them just four days?”

He laughed heartily, “NOT…A…ONE.”

We looked each other in the eyes, and I joined in with his laughter.

“But, but, I can trust them! They wouldn’t…”

“Kevin, words and beautiful women are things guaranteed never to last. Beauty inevitably fails, and when pushed to the wall, words equally falter. Mean as I am, I have your back, do you have mine?”

“I, uh…”

“Kevin, this is a moment you have to make a careful choice, help me with this Godsawful filth, or abandon me. Should you choose the latter, we are done. I saved your freaking life, and would do so without pause,” well, certainly a small pause to gauge if he was worth saving in that moment, “Make up your mind, honor your word and help a friend, or prove true what everyone says about other worlders.”

I didn’t wait for his response. A splash echoed against the vaulted walls as I landed in the liquid filth, unfortunately waist high. I thought of glaring at Virgil again, but chose not to, not wanting to see his mirthful face. Sure enough, there were guffaws from his position. I took my shovel and started with a pile of crap above the waterline closest to the section the wagon was on.

Hopefully underneath this massive pile was one of those outflows. If I managed to clear this pile, with a spot of luck, the wastewater would drain, making the job far easier.

After two plops from my shovel there was a small splooshing as Kevin daintily entered the water, using the descending slope. His face was full of revulsion as he, step by step, entered the muck. I turned from him and joylessly resumed my work. My mood was far to dark to celebrate his acquiescence. This was a foul, terrible job to be sure, but Kevin was being such a wuss that I no longer cared.

Women and nobles would never be doing such work, but me and Kevin were men. Despite what other worlder women thought about being a man, it wasn’t all roses. Men were the first called upon for such jobs as this, the first drafted into the army, the first demanded to contribute. Women often deferred to men, but they were allowed their input, even participation in the senate. Even some of our women were beginning to grumble, the senate should be fifty fifty men and women!

Other worlder women always demanded the best, yet never once did I hear them screaming to participate in cleaning cesspits or jobs like lumber sawyering or mining where they might lose a limb or gain an unsightly scar. Being a man wasn’t winning the lottery, despite what some thought. It meant hard work and damned sacrifice if you were ever going to succeed.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

After silently griping at my lot and the terribly, gut wrenching stench, I realized that I was going about everything all wrong. Virgil was sitting on the wagon, a handkerchief covering his mouth and nose as he gleefully watched us. I smiled devilishly at him before turning to shovel another pile of refuse.

“Virgil Caine is my name, and I drove on the Danville train…♪” I began to sing.

I couldn’t see him, but I had no doubt that he was no longer leaning back in his seat.

“’Till so much cavalry came, and tore up the tracks again!♪”

“HEY!” he shouted.

“In the winter of ’65…♪”

“Stop that!”

“We were hungry, just barely alive…♪”

“Godsdamnit boy, you quit that now!”

“I took the train to Richmond had fell, it…♪”

“I’ll roast you, boy!”

Stopping, I turned, greeting Virgil with a toothy grin.

“Why, what’s the matter, Virgil?”

“Oh, don’t, don’t you dare! You knows what you’re doing!”

Kevin stopped working to stare at us confused.

“I’m just singing Virgil, why would you be so upset?”

“Don’t you dare sing that song!”

“Oh come now, Virgil, quick come see, there goes the Robert E. Lee! ♪”

“Aaahhhh!!!”

Almost dropping the shovel, I bent over laughing. At least until my nose came inches from the Godsawful water, my laughter was replaced by dry heaving. Coughing and struggling to keep my beer down, I turned to Virgil, now beet red.

“Do you have any idea how much I got bullied when I was young ‘cause of that damned song!”

I could imagine. That song had been popularized some time ago by the other worlder bard Waylon Presley, another one of those odd names. He was one of the few other worlders who actually lived a complete, and surprisingly content, life here in the Republic. He created hundreds of songs, and actually became quite wealthy. While normally most would be jealous of such talent, the other bards copied his work which quickly endeared him with the musical community.

“I think I’ve heard that song bef…” Kevin began.

“NO SINGING!”

“Oh, come on, Virgil, these walls were made for singing!”

“Two silver, and you never sing that a’cursed song again!”

“Two silvers, and I never sing that song again, your word?”

“My word!”

Nodding, I smiled, and began humming the tune, “You can’t raise the Caine back up when it’s in the field.♪”

“Hey, we made a deal!”

“Why, yes, yes we did Virgil, I am never allowed to sing that song again, but that doesn’t include humming.”

“You dirty son of a wh…”

Interrupting my first solid victory, in Gods knew how long, was a sickeningly wet “splat”. Me and Virgil turned just in time to watch a large brown object sliding down Kevin’s forehead. Screaming, he swatted the mass away, leaving a large brown tinge across his shocked face.

The laughter took quite a while to die away…

--------------------------------------------------

“You know, if you took your underwear off, it’d certainly help in the cleaning process.”

“I don’t like people seeing me naked!”

“Were you ever actually a child? I mean, your parents at least had to’ve seen you naked at some point.”

“That’s different! That’s when you’re too young to understand.”

I shrugged, lathering myself up for the seventh time. The stench had become far more bearable now, but it was hard to actually gauge since I had become more or less accustomed to it. Three more times, I decided with certainty.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t use the showers or the bath.”

We were outside the Spire’s walls, bathing in the stream where me and Agrippina often met to practice. There was a slight breeze, the trees swaying gently. The water flowed quickly alongside us, carrying off the soap bubbles.

“Kevin, I have enough enemies as it stands. If we’d of went to the showers, the stench would’ve flooded the halls.”

“Yeah, but people would’ve understood.”

“Understanding and tolerating are two very different things. Like I told you before, you need to annoy less people if you’re going to survive.”

Kevin dipped his head under to rid himself of the lather coating his hair. Coming back up, he wiped away the water from his face before asking.

“Yeah, about that, Tome. You said before that no one likes other worlders here, why?”

I stared at him a minute, carefully phrasing my words beforehand. Thanks to Verdia, and Kevin’s inability to keep any secrets, I needed to avoid certain topics. Luckily, there was one salient issue that would serve as the perfect example.

“Kevin, you other worlders tend to be a tad…pompous. That and you tend to look down on everyone.”

“That’s not tru…”

I held my hand up, “Let’s say a poor man invited an other worlder to his house. A one room shack for example. Most of them would no doubt say something like, “What a filthy hovel!” They’ve insulted the man, his livelihood, and all his efforts put forth into said hovel, but worst of all, they’ve stepped out of their place as guests. To say that as a stranger is one thing, but as a guest?! That’s no different than slapping the man across the face. In the Republic, everyone has a place or position that they must adhere to, it’s very…”

“You mean like kowtowing to nobles?” he asked, resentment in his voice.

“No, not exactly… Politeness is recommended when dealing with nobles as well, but you can equally tell them off without legal repercussions. Here, excluding peasants, slaves, and, cough, cough, ahem! Anyways, anyone can address anyone else howsoever they damn please. That being said, just remember that the people in power can always find ways of paying you back, so choose your battles wisely.”

Even with other worlders, this philosophy applied. The two of us were alone out here, and I could easily enough slit Kevin’s throat, I certainly had enough justification for it. But the law required other worlder corpses to be brought back to the nearest guards and reported. While most wouldn’t care, there would be a few other worlders wanting justice. While one or two of them weren’t something I feared, ten could easily do me in. Best to keep cautious, and to the rules.

“No, A place for everything and everything in its place more represents how you are expected to act under certain conditions. If you are a host, you should adequately entertain your guests. As a guest, you must be grateful and amenable company. As a soldier or official you are supposed to use force copiously, but yet also appropriately. Here, citizens do not take kindly to being treated as unequals, or talked down to, and often do have the means to fight back. Our society functions without mass blood feuds or massacres only because everyone understands the limits of their own behavior. Once you step outside of that, you have to be prepared for the consequences.”

“But, it sounds so wrong! Everything, everyone, in their place? People have the right to be free, to do whatever they want.”

“Kevin, people here are free. You can assault, rape, or kill whoever you want, just do expect your victims to fight back and the authorities to be on your tail,” provided you weren’t careful enough with your crime…

“No! I mean, people should never be required to be stuck in one, uh, station, for their entire lives! That’s horrible!”

“You work hard enough, and have an ounce or two of luck, and you can advance. It’s not a strict class system here, it’s more of a way of making sure society functions smoothly. You always need to consider your actions relative to yourself and the other person’s position. We have enough problems here without turning on one another,” thank you whichever God cursed me, forcing me to contend with everyone turning against me just because they get too close.

“Well, maybe, but even then people have to be free!” oh Gods, here we go again, “It’s bad enough that you’ve enslaved people, but to enslave your minds, we have to act a certain way? It’s not right!”

“Right or wrong, that’s the way things turn here. I believe your world has a saying, when in Rome, don’t start fires you can’t put out.”

A flash of confusion appeared on his face, “Uh, yeah, that’s one of them, I suppose… But what your saying isn’t the same as back on…”

“You’re right, it’s not the same. Here you may well end up dead if you insult someone enough, and there will be no consequences since you started the fight. Most people are fairly well polite, unless they think you’re scheming something, you’re from Schelm or somewhere else we’re at war with, you’re an other worlder, or you’re cursed like me.”

Kevin looked at me askance. His face contorted as though repudiating everything I had just said.

“Tome, are you sure you’re cursed and not just, uh, unlikeable?”

My eyes almost popped out of their sockets as I stared daggers at Kevin.

Was he even listening?

“What did I just say about not pissing people off?!”

--------------------------------------------------

I just want to clear the record. There have been many tall tales and myths surrounding my achievements. You’ll hear from many other worlders that I stole all my songs and music from Earth. You’ll hear that I didn’t invent the harmonica. Hell, you’ll even hear from their lips that my name isn’t really Waylon Presley!

But no matter what they say, I’m proud to know that the entire Lodestone Republic has my back! And let me dedicate my next song to all my doubters and haters out there, just to let you know what I truly think of your worthless accusations…

-Waylon Presley, his announcement at the annual Amethyst City Fair, just before singing his immortal tune, “Here’s a Copper, Call Someone Who Cares.”