"Keep it the fook doon!" a dwarf screamed down the hallway, clearly not a fan of Lone's loud request.
Heavy footsteps followed immediately after the shouting. 'Ah. fingers crossed that doesn't earn me a beating. I figured loud and rude was the way to go considering the circumstances.'
Lone backed away from his room's door as he said in a softer tone, "I'm starving, so can I have some food, please? I will be more than quiet if I can have something to eat and drink then have a bath or shower. I'm not asking for luxury, but c'mon, I'll hardly be useful like I am now and I bet I can be smelt through the whole building."
A few chuckles from the surrounding rooms seemed to agree.
"Ya dae kinda smell like ma da's ol' lucky sock."
"Feck naw 'e doesnae. Ah looked after 'at sock, ya insolent git! 'E smells like the wet underside of yer used skivvies, son."
"There they go again. Guard, just gae the fookin' fox what 'e wants, eh? I wan' some peace an' quiet. Dealin' wae ma da is 'ard enuff."
"Aye. Next thing ye ken we'll be 'earin' 'is stomach roar fae all the way doon 'ere!"
Another round of boisterous laughter followed.
The guard stopped outside of Lone's room and screamed, "Shut it, all ah ya! Fox! Press yerself against the back wall o' yer room's far wall an' face it anaw!"
Lone shrugged as did as told. "Just a word of warning, if you try to take advantage of me, don't blame me for cutting it off. I'm spoken for already."
"Cheeky feckin' prisoner!" The sound of his room door unlocking filled his ears.
Then two things slammed down onto the floor before something soft was thrown right into the back of his head. Lone didn't even flinch, what with him being used to harder things being thrown at him. Usually punches.
He heard the guard click his tongue before leaving the room and locked it again. "There. Eat, drink, an' wash yerself. Yer seein' the warden o' this wee buildin' in an 'oor. Be ready."
Lone slowly turned around and could immediately tell what had hit him and what had made the loud clunking noises.
One of the two thunks had clearly come from the stone tray with a bowl of... something atop it. Likely a stew. Next to it on the same tray could be seen a stone cup of water. The other, louder sound, must have originated from the stone pail of water filled with, at a guess, five or six litres of the lovely hydrating substance.
The thing that had assaulted his head was a towel that had clearly seen better days. "Why do I have the distinct impression he was on his way to give me this stuff anyway? And I just had to make a scene to lower my favorability. Fuck. Oh well, live and learn."
----------------------------------------
Congratulations! The host's passive skill [Thirst Resistance] has levelled up! It is now Intermediate Level 7.
Congratulations! The host's passive skill [Hunger Resistance] has levelled up! It is now Intermediate Level 1.
Passive Skill: Hunger Resistance
A skill that allows the host to resist hunger and the negative effects of being hungry to varying degrees based on mastery.
The host shall get hungry 15% [+10%] slower than normal.
The pains and urges hunger induces into the host shall be reduced by 15% [+10%].
Cost: N/A Mastery: Intermediate Level 1
"Fuckin' really?" Lone mumbled.
As it turned out, he got those level ups the very second the food and water hit his tongue.
'I guess sating ones desires is a way to build a resistance to them? How does that work? Do you need to be really desperate so you can then appreciate what it's like to have the thing, making you more resistant to not having it? Does that even make sense?' Lone thought.
Regardless, the water tasted like god-given ambrosia to his parched throat and the odd-looking stew could have easily been mistaken for a heavenly ham as far as his tastebuds cared.
He savoured every drop of both before he washed himself very carefully with the bucketful of bathing water he'd been provided.
Almost as soon as he was done drying himself off, a guard shouted at him through his room's door, marking the second time for the day he'd been yelled at. "Ye'll be seein' the warden noo, Fox! It's time tae discuss yer new occupation."
Lone complied with the man, pressing himself up against the back wall, allowing the dwarf almost half his height to tightly cuff his arms. He then peacefully followed the guard out of his room.
He was then surrounded by a small unit of six guards who began leading him through the building.
'Y'know, now that I'm more focused both thanks to not thinking too much about the Taker and not dying of thirst or hunger, this place ain't half bad. Well, when compared to the dungeon of Ranton's castle, anywhere will be reminiscent of the pearly gates, I suppose,' Lone pondered.
A hard thump to the back of the head drew him out of his thoughts. Lone spun his head and furrowed his brow. "Did you just jump to backhand my he-"
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"Shut it! 'Ere're the rules fae meetin' the warden! Ye'll speak when spoken tae an' ye'll only voice yer opinion if asked fae one! Otherwise, ye dinnae 'ave an opinion. Are we clear, Fox?!" the guard screamed.
Lone winced. "I'm right next to you and your hard-assing ain't scaring me, so stop shouting, yeah? I'll behave. I fuckin' chose to do this as my punishment. The hazing is entirely unnecessary."
"Why ye cheeky little shite! Ah'll show ye hazin'!" the guard yelled as he cracked his neck and began rolling up his uniform sleeve.
Just as he was preparing to hit Lone again, a voice from the other side of the door they had stopped at made him freeze.
"Just let him in, Thron. We all know he injured an X-ranker after willingly challenging such a monster. He's likely telling the truth. He'll only come to resent you for acting as the lesser civilisations do with their prisoners. We need him compliant since he'll be helping us reclaim our lands," the voice said softly but with power and with a very subtle dwarven accent.
"... Count yerself lucky," the guard whose name Lone now knew to be Thron, grumbled as he pushed open the door and shoved Lone into the room beyond it.
"No need for all of you to filter on in here. My office is small already. I'd rather not make it even more cramped. Two to guard the door shall suffice," the warden said. "The other four, wait in the hallway until we're done here."
The guards protested weakly but did as told despite not liking it. Meanwhile, Lone inspected the man before him very carefully. "You're not a dwarf."
"How very astute of you to notice," the man chuckled with a shake of his head. "Was it the unnaturally bald head or perhaps the larger nose than normal?" he asked.
"It was you not being a dwarf, Mister Gnome. First time meeting one of you. I didn't know positions of power were given out to non-dwarves," Lone replied as he sauntered forward and placed himself in the seat opposite the warden's desk.
The two remaining guards tensed at his arrogance, but the warden shook his head. "Come now. If he meant me harm, he'd have killed me already. Get those shackles off of him, would you? I swear. The man makes an honest mistake and wants to pay us back for it and this is how we treat him? The lad can't even use magic. Ardartian shackles won't change that."
"Ah don't think 'at's wise, sir," Thron, one of the two who chose to stay, countered.
"And I don't think you're in charge," the warden sneered. "Do forgive him, won't you, Mister Immortus? I've been briefed on your case, we all have, but as I'm not a dwarf, I can look at it a bit more rationally than our more emotionally and culturally invested friends here are able."
Lone nodded as he let the reluctant guards undo his bindings. "Don't worry about it. I can see through the lens of many a perspective. I totally get it. And, well, truth be told, when you've been through what I have, this level of treatment doesn't even breach the surface of cruelty."
"Oh, I heard. Torture by the humans? Ghastly beings who too often get lost in their arrogance. If not that, then they allow their most common racial skill to control them. A sad thing for all sentient species," the warden replied.
"Ah, the one that lets 'em reproduce so fast?" Lone asked rhetorically. "Yeah, nasty skill."
One he was glad Soph and Sophie had yet to earn. Perhaps she'd unlock a different racial skill. He didn't know of any other racial skills tied to the human species since Milindo had very little public information regarding it.
Still, seeing as how the Stone Dwarves were blessed with two possible racial skills, he had hope.
"Indeed it is. While our local dwarven friends are able to mine incredibly well or judge the worth of items with no equal. You can kill with ease and above your rank. I can assess people as easily as the moons do rise. But the humans... they can become very horny and procreate like animals. Truly ironic considering they aren't beastkin," the man said as he sat himself down on a padded seat that accounted for his lacking height.
Noticing Lone glancing at his chair, the warden smiled. "I need this even for the dwarves. Still, I'll be hurting my neck talking to you today. I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Zilben Hesgresind but do call me Zil or just Warden if you'd prefer. The slight accent is on account of me being raised in this krieg, my parents having fled the surface some two centuries ago after a famine. Dreadfully boring stuff."
"I'm sure. Zil's fine. Just like Lone's good for me. Keep it formal if you want, I'm fine whichever way. So, we gonna talk about how my whole 27-years are gonna work down here?" Lone inquired.
Of course, he had no plans to stay for that long. A few months was his intended staying period. At most, he'd remain until his mana seal was lifted if he really enjoyed reclaiming the kriegs and urds. Only time would tell.
He was a man with plans, after all. Chiefly, visit the primary settlement of the Crimson Foxkin clan, and then make his way to Mystopolis to enrol at The Academy to pursue the field of magical knowledge.
"Lone then. And yes, let's. It's really rather simple. You must take a task once every year. You can take more if you wish, but no less. Basic provisions will be provided to you of an equal standard to that of a foot soldier of the army. For each extra task you take on, your sentence can be reduced depending on the importance of the reclaimed or cleared area," Zil explained.
Lone nodded. "Wait, my sentence can be reduced? That's pretty fuckin' huge. I got a pretty thorough rundown from my arbiter, but she didn't mention that."
Zil nodded. "That's only natural. It is illegal for an arbiter to mention it as if it were common knowledge, every criminal would wish to be punished with militaristic enlistment. Kill a man and only serve a fraction of the time you would in a prison cell? No. We don't have the capacity for that. And the courts don't want all defendants to fight for it every case either."
Lone stroked his short beard in thought. "I guess that makes sense. That would imply I have to sign a magical NDA, right?"
"A what?" Zil asked in confusion.
"Non-disclosure agreement. A magic contract to keep my silence," Lone explained, already regretting using an abbreviation from back on Earth.
Hell, he was surprised it had even translated properly into the local language.
"Ah, yes. You'll be doing that later today," Zil answered. "Now, considering your arbiter explained everything bar that to you, can I assume you're aware then that you can employ adventurers to aid your expeditions as well as all the rules surrounding that?"
'Sophie, I can work off my sentence by doing extra jobs. I'm only required to do one a year, but more will reduce my time here. Later I'll be signing a magic contract or something that'll force me to keep that a secret. If I can give you more details before then I will,' Lone conveyed over The Summoning Room's telepathic link.
'We see. Poor dwarves. I doubt they expected you to be able to spill their secrets so immediately. We shall inform Breena and Hamish,' Sophie replied, relieving Lone.
He nodded. "Yup. I know it all, I think. Like how each task is also simultaneously a guild quest so it can serve to increase my standing in The Adventurer's Guild while also helping the kingdom."
"Assuming you don't fail. These are not simple matters. Those are left for the kings' armies. Our tasks are the dregs not worth an adventurer's time, the ones too dangerous to risk losing a battalion to, or private matters that have been given exclusively to us since our members have a... reputation of sorts," Zil said with a wry smile while the guards laughed.
Lone raised an eyebrow. "What kinda reputation?"
"A suicidal one. If you'd been sentenced to a thousand years of service here, you'd be willing to do the insane tasks that instantly reduce your sentence by a flat 90%, would you not?" Zil asked as he rubbed his large nose.
Lone hmmed loudly. "Gotcha. Well, where can I see the tasks? I'd like to get started immediately. Ah, do you have a task to reclaim the krieg with Sheinlings in it? I'd love to start there. I'll sign that contract first though if needed."
"Eager, aren't we. You can start first. It will take me the rest of the afternoon to get your paperwork prepared. I can't recall if we have any tasks related to Sheinlings though. We get many new tasks each month and many get completed as well. I certainly won't be stopping you if you'd like to start working off your sentence immediately. Thron, take him to the board," Zil ordered.
"Of course, sir," the dwarf replied with a sloppy salute. "Fox, on yer feet. Try anythin' funny now 'at the warden's so graciously allowed yer cuffs off an' ah'll break yer feckin' kneecaps."
"Scary," Lone said monotonously.
Zil chuckled. "You'll get used to him."
"I'm sure," Lone replied.