South Jaga City, Job’s Hall Dining Area – Year 1344, Month 1, Day 7. Spring
Olea Munroe
“You know, it is considered nominally polite in most any place to allow your host to at least taste the food before you would consider eating with such gusto.” Came the gruff voice from across the table.
“Mhmm” I nodded sagely while drinking some water from my wooden mug.
Doogan continued staring as I sat across from him, we were in a large dining area adjacent to the main hall of the Job building. After my harrowing experience with Master Doogan and his angry training regime, we had come in to eat lunch. I still could not remember what had happened to my other meat pie. Did I eat it, did I give it to Doogie, I could not remember. At least I had lunch now, lunch was good.
We had come to a large table that could sit at least a dozen, there were several wooden tables just like it in the room. Doogan had informed me that this was the communal dining area for staff, I took that to mean I was being considered staff. I really needed to ask about that, I have been going with whatever has happened as of late for some reason I did not grasp. I’m not complaining about results though, at least not all results.
There were several other small groups of people chatting and eating their own meals, none of which resembled the food in front of us now. It looked like corn meal biscuits and some thick stew, it smelled almost as homey as my own food did exotic, not going to lie I was curious as to how well they would taste together. Does that make me a glutton? Naah.
Spread out on the table were wooden platters of meat cut evenly and stacked several layers deep. It was paired with several small bowls of a red-brown stew. I could see rough cut tubers and leaves of varying sizes floating throughout. It tasted like curry and smelled like beef stroganoff. My head hurt trying to put those two things together, it should not be legal in any universe, and yes contrary to my belief on the matter it still tasted quite good. I can blame my unreasonable hunger on that judgement, I’m sure.
“It’s not my fault you are a slow eater.” I say after my mouth was clear enough of food to be polite, I could be polite!
“The food doesn’t magically disappear if you wait more than a few moments after sitting down.” He said this with an odd look on his face. It was at this time that I noticed he had none of the food in front of himself, as I noticed this a short man with a thin moustache made his way to the table and plopped down some food similar to what the others in the room were eating.
“I did not want to offend the cook, so I thought to quickly demonstrate my love for his skills. Aside from that, why am I the only one not eating the yummy smelling cornbread stuff?” Something was off here.
“You are new to the hall and as such your first meal in the dining area should be special.” He answered with a smile and a nod. I had noticed a lack of sound throughout the rest of the room but decided to stay focused on the old man. “All people joining the hall as new recruits or staff enjoy the same privilege.”
“On that note,” I said as I slowly chewed another piece of the thick and tender meat, “when did I sign the job application? I do not recall agreeing to be your employee.”
A sly grin could be seen under his face then, “Let me instead ask you some things. Where else can you stay, how do you suppose will you be able to earn your way in this place so far from where you claim to be from, and who else can teach you all the things that you for some unknown reason seem to not know?”
I ate a few more pieces of my meal, “This stew is quite good.” Doogan nodded as I continued eating, I would like to say I was deflecting as I was thinking but it would be a lie. Most of my thinking occurs while I speak, eating deserves far too much attention.
After clearing the last third of my savory meats and most of my stew I eyes the old master. I wonder if he had suspicions as to the truth of my story, I had not done much research on these mana storms he mentioned, and I believed they were common enough that asking about them directly would be a sure sign of questionable ignorance. I was also not sure why he would ask about church service regarding healing skills. I decided a little honesty would not be a terrible thing, just a little, someone as old as Doogan surely had enough experience as to make my unique circumstances seem not so astounding if he were to puzzle it out from context clue.
“I think I am rather blessed that such a one as you found it in their heart to help me by giving me a place to work and reside, thank you.” I said while watching his bearded face. The old hound’s brows rose not a mote as he smiled and nodded. “All the aside, I have to ask what you mean by church service. Why is it odd to have healing skills without serving in the church.”
“Oh, I assumed I was wrong there.” He seemed to chew on his thoughts for a moment, “It appears we will be having another talk later. On the note of work however, I have taken the liberty of getting you some work for the afternoon. Several contracts have been posted and after consulting the map I have decided to consolidate the task. The reason for this is that it seems to stem from a certain brood of rats, rats you have recently dealt with.”
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“So, the contracts were already complete? I am confused, why consolidate contracts for something that is done?” I ask, not trying to hide my confusion.
“It seems the brood mother you killed was rather young, a good thing though it was we had the body brought in for examination, checking for disease and mana warping. Typical stuff for any evolved beastie.” He took a bite from his corn bread, making me wait. “We found that the brood mother was not so old as to have a been there long, we also found proof that she was beginning her transition into a higher tier brood mother, those evolutions can go toward rat queen, or even a matriarch if enough time passes in an ideal location with abundant food.”
“So, it was going to get worse if left alone, sounds right…” I mutter thinking about some other scenario from earth with evolving monsters. “This has what to do with other contracts?”
“The nest was larger than we knew, there are six other buildings on that block with rat problems. You have a busy day ahead of you.” Doogan said around his large spoonful of stew. He was smiling. Wiley old men are unwelcome news, true everywhere!
“I did not volunteer for anything.” I began, before he raised a finger.
“You will be given similar wages for this job, five coppers per rat slain. I gave Sicily word that you would be taking this contract at my direction, I am sure you do not mind her managing your workload.” He winked at me while delivering that last bit of information. I was tempted to thwack him with one of his biscuits but once again my respect for the culinary works of others stayed my retribution.
“Ok, kill some rats, grab some tail, report back, and collect some pay. It sounds fair.” I replied in my most businesslike manner.
“No need for rat tails on this contract, you have been established as dependable on my word. Besides the desk out front are equipped with clairvoyance and detection magics, lying is nearly impossible to do without the clerk being made aware. Keep that in mind, outside of these halls people can use such things to learn a great deal about you. I am saying this because you swing back and forth between being vague and being too elaborate in explanations. Being vague helps people keep private things where they need to be.” Doogan elaborated after finishing his last bite of bread, “Here in these halls your secrets cannot travel, we keep the halls as a refuge for folk doing good work, outside… outside is not so safe for some things, especially concerning you. Understood?”
I was still contemplating his words as I said, “Understood.” The whole truth detection magic was a bit of a buzzkill for some jokes I may have wanted to pull in the future, but I could honestly not think of any reasons to lie to the people I had met here so far, except for spite. I could do spite. Those blunted daggers still hurt. My brief time here had shown me that the rough folk that called it home were still just folks. They did their work, seemed to enjoy, or at least take pride in their work and its benefit to burden ratio seemed adequately shouldered. I won’t deny the food is a good selling point for the job.
“Right, we should get going.” Said Doogan as he stood. “Let us go out and get your contract. “Oh, and before I forget. Look up there.”
I followed his hand as he pointed to a mounted head on the far wall, not far from the exit to the main hall. It was a preserved head of a large rodent, nearly the size of a basketball. Large, four-inch teeth jutted down from the strong upper jaw to meet the lower jaw in an overbite where the other teeth hid in shadows, no less sharp and only slightly shorter. It’s red-black eyes shining with the flicker light of the various candles, never seeing full shadow thanks to the magical orbs of light spread evenly through the room. The oily hair cleaned to a shimmering luster, a brown so dark it was nearing black. The nose was scarred in several places some carrying downward to run the side of its face. I was altogether quite the imposing beast. A small plaque under the head showed “Brood Mother – Slain in 1344 by Olea ‘Ratsbane’ Munroe Level 2.”
As I had read the plaque aloud, I noticed the sound of wood scraping against wood and turned. The small groups of people had become much larger groups. When did they show up, I was still thinking about the ramifications of being surrounded by so many sneaky people when I heard laughter beside me.
“We wanted to commemorate your joining the guild with something special.” Said Master Doogan, ignoring my angry confusion. “This is for you as well.”
He handed me an object wrapped in purple velvet. It had weight to it. I unwrapped the parcel finding first a thick wooden handle inlaid with smooth bone white seams of… yeah that was bone. The blade marred with several deep furrows and smaller knicks. It had a sickly coppery-red sheen visible even after the many times it was inexpertly honed. I recognized it somewhere, though it did appear to be a little different.
“This is?”
“Yep, that be Ratsbane. Mr. Baker handed it off when we sent the man for the Brood Mother corpse. Said you should keep it, he is too old and such was the claim. They liked you.” He looked up at the mounted head again before continuing. “We have a few dedicated crafters on contract, they reinforced the hilt with the bone from that beasty to make it last, they were surprised to find it mildly enchanted, all the years of use for the sole tasks of rat extermination and continued blooding made the magic shape to the task. It happens sometimes, that is the reason they did nothing to the blade aside from some oiling. Ratsbane indeed.”
I growled a little even as I delighted at having the little knife in hand, we’d been through something together this blade and me. Not very heroic and slightly embarrassing, yes but it had been our moment. I looked up from my new blade with a smile.
It was at that moment when I was going to thank the old codger that a chorus of shouts poured forth from the onlookers.
“To Ratsbane! Ratsbane! Ratsbane!” came the sporadic cheer interrupted only as some few of the participants drank of their cups. “Ratsbane! Ratsbane!”
I punched the old man on the arm, or forearm he was taller than me. This got the crowd even more excited. There were people clapping and shouting, just for the chance to see anyone get away with hitting Master Doogan and not being put down. I turned and walked away, not missing the shouts turning to laughter.
As I passed by master Doogan, he simply said, “I hope you enjoyed your lunch.”
I paled only slightly as I exited the room. Rat stew is not something I expected to ever enjoy.