Back in the outer city, I take the carriage to the sheriff's keep, once again freeing May to let her wander and rest. She has pulled me enough today. I then start towards the Dumps, patrolling as I go. It's time to question a certain shady someone about what happened last night at the apothecary. And I wouldn't be surprised if he knew something about the theft of the food at the granary.

As I walk, and as the cloud-cloaked daylight shines brighter and brighter, the city begins to come alive with what it can muster. I see the extent of the damage the wooden dragons caused. They laid waste to so many more buildings. The rain doused the flames but they're mostly all uninhabitable now. Let's hope the families who lost their homes can find somewhere else to live. Otherwise, it's the dark and damp bunkers for them.

The rain begins to let up as I trudge across Gryphon's Market Square, a large statue of the winged beast collecting bird shit once again. A few people set up stalls with what little things they can sell. And not for money like it was before, but for trade. Money is useless now, it only good for melting down.

Being that it's in the far southeast, it takes some time before I get to my destination. Though the city feels smaller -- a cage would -- it's still its vast and sweeping wen.

The Dumps, the poorest district, sticks out like a sore dragon's thumb, jutting out of the city's almost round shape. Walled high on all sides, a result of a violent riot a dozen years ago, the residents are kept inside to fend for themselves.

The devil's drawbridge, the only supposed passage in and out spans a moat of spikes, another precaution of the riot. Usually it only opens once a month to let in rations, but they'll open it for me.

'Coming in, sheriff?' shouts a soldier on the wall above the drawbridge. Wearing a brown cape with an emblem of a beheaded snake, his only duty is to make sure the residents of the Dump stay inside. There are several of them, all armed to the teeth, more so than a soldier in the army.

I nod.

The drawbridge slowly creaks open from the top, the sound of chains starting to grind. Then it starts to drop faster until it lands with a crash, sending mud showering over me.

I grumble and my coat soaks in the filth, it becoming a heavy, swamp-smelling heap.

I thump across the drawbridge and over the spikes, the same old sun-bleached skeletons impaled at the bottom.

Passing under the opened portcullis gate, the same soldier peers over the wall on the other side and asks, 'Here to make arrests? Need any assistance? I'm here to serve.'

I wouldn't trust any of the soldiers here to make an arrest unless I wanted the suspect peppered with arrows and dead.

Shaking my head in response, a rat weaves between my feet, cheeping. It's fat, ready to birth. It scurries away, dirt-caked children wearing sacks for clothes close behind with makeshift spears in their hands. I keep watch as I walk away, the rat diving under a bloated man hunched over on the street, a blood-soaked cap covering his face.

The children rush over and start poking. The man doesn't budge. And with one good whack of a spear, the man flops over, exposing a nest of feeding vermin. The dead man's ass is shredded through his pants.

I'm not shocked. I've seen worse here. I've seen worse on the battlefield.

I don't know how many piles of shit I rifle past as I make my way through the Dumps, the reason it was named as such. The smell is unbearable, wishing I was inhaling berry weed smoke instead.

A group of adult males stare at me with hatred in their eyes. It's pure as if an enemy's.

Unlike the rest of the city, the king deemed adult males here unworthy of being in the army or hold any position in regards to the safety of the city. He doesn't trust them and neither do I. They are bred differently here, a fault of theirs or not. They are not exiled from the city either for many, if not all, would surely join the besieging enemy and fight against us.

Spit flies in my direction.

Is that their attempt at intimidation? Disgusting is all it is. Did I arrest one of them in the past? Or possibly all of them? I don't recognize their faces.

After skirting around a tented camp bursting with the overflowing population, screams and terror emanating from within, I find myself within a cluster of mud huts. The abodes soon change to stone and start closing in on me until I'm shuffling through a space no wider than myself. I step over dead bodies, drunks, and countless more rats.

Everything then morphs into a set of descending crumbling steps, a flickering light at the end. When I reach it, a burly man perched on a stool awaits, a wooden door behind him.

The man, his face bloodied, flat like a pan, glares at me with his good eye, the other closed, puffed and bruised.

'Win the fight?' I ask. 'I bet the other looks worse.'

He just groans.

'Let me in,' I demand not too forcefully yet sternly as if I was speaking to one of my men.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The man keeps seated and curls his mouth.

'Let me in,' I say more loudly, showing I'm not to be taken lightly. I open my coat to show him my sword, the blade glinting in the light.

This man could kill me with his finger no matter what weapon I had, but he knows who I am and if something happens to me, he knows a public death is in his future. But maybe he doesn't care.

His callused fists tighten but he does as I ask. He wheezes to his feet and pushes the gate open.

Down a tunnel I go. And a long one at that. I hear a faint sound of cheering. It gets louder until I can't hear myself think. I turn a corner and see countless people screaming at the bloodied fighters brawling in the middle. Fists are flying, fingers are gouging, teeth are gnawing and legs are kicking and restraining.

The Pit it's called. It's one of many places where people come to waste their days away.

Too enthralled with the fight, nobody notices me. I make my way to the other side of the chiseled-out hall of a cave and to another entrance way. I shift through and into a dimly lit tavern, the aroma of firewater immediately singeing my nose hairs.

It smells stronger than the stuff Seamil gave me.

Several people sit separately at their own grungy tables. They look at me, and so too does the haggard-looking tavern maid at the bar, a long dagger sheathed in her apron.

One person in particular scowls at my presence.

I knew he'd be here. Like stink on shit.

The puny, gaunt-faced man moves to get out of his seat, to slink away, but I shake my head steadily. He slumps back down into his chair and mouths a curse.

I walk over and ask, 'May I sit, Leech?'

'Do I have a choice?' the man squeaks with a high-pitched bray, combing his greasy hair with his hand.

'You do,' I reply back, 'but there's only one right answer. May I?'

The man nods eventually and I take a seat, quickly calling the tavern maid over.

'What do you want?' she says in a not-so-friendly manner.

'Nothing for me, but get this man another of what he's drinking?' I reply.

The maid waddles off back to the bar.

'So,' I say. 'Have a nice little night out last night during the attack? Get something you wanted from the apothecary on Tinney Street.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' he replies sheepishly, looking away.

I know it was him. He's the only one in this city who's as small as a gnome and bleats the way he does.

'Please, let's not play this game,' I say. 'We've played it too many times.'

'You know full well, sheriff, that we in the Dumps can't leave. We are trapped like the whole city is trapped.'

'That's your answer every time I come here to see you. You know I'll eventually find out how you get out.'

'Good luck with that. It will take you forever because there isn't a way. And if we're finished here, I'd like to leave. I have things to do.'

'We're not finished. Hear about the theft of the food at the granary?'

Leech shakes his head. 'There was a theft? I didn't know. We don't get a lot of news down in the Dumps.' His tone holds no concern or care. 'And what has that got to do with me?'

'Know anything about it?' I pause to let the maid serve the drink before continuing, 'A reliable witness told me they saw you around the time of the theft.'

That's a lie but deceit is a good weapon in a lawman's belt.

Leech cackles as he usually does when faced with such a claim. 'What hogwash. You're clutching at reeds here, sheriff. But I'll let you in on a little secret.'

'Go on,' I reply, not hoping for much.

'Food isn't lucrative in the Dumps, for me. You and everyone else in the other parts of the city may think so but not here. Food is way down on the currency list. We, and which is quite surprising, get our rations here, though rotten they are, and there are plenty of rats to fill our stomachs.'

'So what is the best currency, might I ask?' I say. I'm not really interested but want to keep the conversation going. Who knows, he may slip up.

'Firewater for one.' Leech lifts up his cup and takes a big gulp. 'Gigglepower another. A good fight–' he nods towards the Pit '--and other forms of release, if you know what I mean.'

'Women?'

He grins.

'Why are you telling me, the sheriff, all this?' I ask.

'What can you do about it? And if you could, the people of the Dumps would not be happy. You'd have another riot on your hands. And bigger than the last as we have really nothing to lose here. You, the king, the city would not want that at this time.'

He's right. The little shit is right. Another wick would light.

'But as a token of our long standing relationship,' Leech continues, 'and hopefully you'll finally get off my back, I've heard a rumour that may help with your investigation.'

'What kind of rumor?' I ask.

Leech leans in. 'A rumour of spies and traitors causing chaos.'

I'm not impressed.

'Really?' I drone. 'This whole city is awash with rumors of spies and traitors causing chaos. We're at war. Under siege.'

Leech puts his hands up. 'If you don't want to listen to what I have to say, you don't have to listen.'

I huff. What else do I have?

'Go on,' I say.

'There have been rumblings about the reservoir. About an attack on it. Maybe the involved could have something to do with the theft at the granary.'

There's a pause.

'And?' I eventually say, 'Is that it? A rumour I've heard before. Could this be an attempt to send me off on a wild goose chase?'

With a smirk, Leech replies, 'I would never. And sorry you've wasted your time. Although, it has been good seeing you. But since you're here, any chance of a game of Deadly Dice?' He reaches into his tunic pocket and pulls out a small ragged velvet bag. He unties its string and turns it upside down, golden dice falling onto the table with a clank.

Despite my annoyance, I humor him. 'And what do you want to bet?'

'If I win, I get that sword of yours. I'd love to put it on my wall at home. It's as famous as the legendary Sword of Fum. Didn't you kill Garbor the Brute with it at the Battle of Featherstone?'

I'd never depart with my sword over a bet.

'I did.' And although I'm very proud of that fact, I reply with no emotion, 'And if I win?'

'I keep my ears open. Maybe I'll hear something else. Something about that theft.'

'That's not a fair bet. Anyway, aren't you supposed to have thirteen dice to play Deadly Dice.'

Leech shoots a glare at the table top and slowly counts the dice using a finger. He finally counts twelve, cursing loudly and slamming his fist down.

'Watch it,' the tavern maid bellows, brandishing her dagger. 'Do that again and I'll rip you five new assholes.'

Leech violently waves away the threat.

His reaction gives me joy. And it's almost worth it coming to the Dumps to see him like this.

Leech's anger quickly fades, a slight tremble beginning to pulse through his hands. He stumbles to his feet and says, 'I need to be on my way.'

With nothing more for me to do with him, I don't stop him. And I'm sure I'll be back.

Scuttling away like the roach he is, Leech leaves the tavern before the growling voice of the maid makes me jump.

'All done here?' she barks.

I look up behind me and see her still brandishing the dagger, holding it up menacingly. 'I am, ma'am. What trade for the cup of firewater? And it must be lawful.'

'You mean the ten cups.'

'Leech, you little shit,' I mumble to myself.