There were a lot of people in the mines when Milo got back to the main level. Too many people for his comfort, it was like a street fair. Vendors were selling food, and there was even a musician playing a tune and a few people dancing. A steady stream of new people were coming from the upper levels to see the remains of Uthneragrubban, and to gawk at the huge crystal chest that was dispensing loot to those who had fought. The miners, Players, and Engineers who had fought in the battle were showing off their new weapons and items of loot as they sat around and made up stories about their part in the fight. There were still a few headstones showing where Players had met their end, but most had resurrected and claimed their gear. Dozens of Players were sitting in a group sipping beer and telling their stories about how they had died. Some were long drawn-out sagas, and others just said, "Charged, blocked, got smooshed." The shorter stories were the most believable.

Milo skulked closer, staying in the shadows, sometimes walking right past people on the outskirts while staying unseen and unnoticed. He saw a lot of miners with crystal picks. That made sense to him. If you could choose a type of weapon or tool, why not get one that would help you mine as well? Some had double-headed picks with balanced heads. Others had a pick-mattock or pick-hammer. Mattocks were good for moving loose rock and softer stone like coal deposits. The thick blade could also chop down like an axe. It was a good thing the weapons were soul-bound. A miner with a crystal pick was going to move twice the rock of something slamming an iron pick into the stone. A few people were grumbling about the unfairness of the situation, giving one excuse or another for why they hadn't come down to fight. The grumbles were told to shut the hell up. The fight had been hard and desperate with some miners not coming back. There was no sympathy for those who'd missed the fight and were now jealous of the loot.

A group of rangers was formed up nearby. Each of them had a new crystalline axe of varied types. Dwarves preferred axes over swords, and their short, strong bodies were ideal for wielding them. Burnock's Rangers were looking a lot better. Many were equipped with new shields as well.

Milo just wanted to get his loot and then scamper upstairs. He chose the side of the chest with the most shadow and skulked up to it slowly. As he got near, the system sent a query.

[As one of the major contributors to the victory over Uthneragrubban, First of the World Bosses, you have gained rewards. Please choose a weapon type. Additional rewards will be available as well.]

A long list of weapons appeared. Milo chose Pick-Mattock and the image of a shiny, crystal weapon appeared, the head mounted on a sturdy gnarled wood handle. It was too pretty for Milo's taste. Shiny was bad. Worse, the crystal weapons had an inner glow. In the dark, the crystal would announce his presence and make it harder to hide. And despite the message saying it was soul-bound, people would fight you for the wealth they saw hanging on your belt. Maybe it was different in other areas, but this was Shadowport, and he was having a lot of trust issues after his latest adventure.

"Does it come in any other color?"

[You are such a pain...Why yes! It comes in any color you like, as long as that color is black!]

"Black is good."

A sturdy-looking tool fell at Milo's feet. The head was a dull, black finish that would reflect no light. It was perfect. It was followed by a fist-sized bag of coins and a black leather collar with sharp spikes. He scooped up the items, noticing that heads were turning in his direction. He did a backward roll into the shadows and moved away until he found a quiet spot where he was undisturbed.

The bag had 40 silver coins and a large ruby. Small sparks of light moved in the gem's depths. Identification only told him that it was a Live Gem. Milo had no idea what it was worth, that could wait for later. The guild could probably appraise it for him. He wondered if he could learn the skill himself. It would come in handy. The pick was perfect.

[Soul-bound Black Pick of Skulking

This sturdy pick is made of Tier 4 materials and will cut through lesser materials with ease. When mining, the normal sound of a tool hitting rocks is decreased by 75% and the sound dies out entirely after 50 feet.]

The collar was confusing. Milo had no idea what Murderfest was, but he wasn't going. Georgie would love the collar though. He stuffed it into his pack.

[Eveldeeves Spiked Collar of Pain-Gifting

This fashionable collar was created by the Dark Elf Fashionista Eveldeeves and worn by her champion during Murderfest VI. 25% of the damage done to the wearer is gifted back to the striker. Very fashionable and often sold in matching sets to loving couples.]

Staying in the shadows and practicing his Skulking, he traveled up through the Guild Hall to the top floor where he saw Bernard at his desk. The halfing was wearing a new magical leather breastplate of red dragon scales, with a crystal spear propped against the wall next to him. He was startled when Milo started to speak. "Ack...geez...don't sneak up on me that way! I guess that teaches me a lesson for daydreaming. What can I do for you kid? I hear you got in some good shots at the boss. Gain a level? Want to give your kindly Uncle Bernard a little dues money?"

Milo liked the halfling. He told you his rules right at the start and then was consistent. "Yes, I do. I just leveled up to level 8. Bernard raised a bushy eyebrow. His eyes appraised Milo again, noting the fancy spanner on his belt, and pick in his hand.

"You've been busy. Good for you! I like busy people. The dues are two silvers for Tier 2, and three more for Level 6. You're looking at four silver for Level 7, 5 for 8, 6 for 9, and a gold for 10. Another gold for tier 3, and then....well, it goes up fast but most of you mooks will never get that far. I'll give you a deal if you want to pay upfront. Twenty silver will pay your dues to the start of Tier 3. Save money and pay while you have it." Bernard rattled all the numbers off fast, but his body language indicated he felt that he didn't expect anyone to pay upfront.

Milo liked the idea. Less coin to pack around, and it was cheaper. He pushed forward another fifteen silver to go with the five already there. The halfling smiled. "And I like a man who's confident that he's moving up in the world. You're all set, kid. Come tell me some stories when you hit level 11." Bernard handed Milo an updated guild membership card. This one was on much tougher paper than his first with designs around the edges and a gold Guild Seal.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Milo took his new card and headed out into the city, being cautious. He remembered the last time he'd left the Guild Hall, and been ambushed by Philistron. This time he stayed constantly in the shadows and ran over the roofs until he was looking down on the little cheese shop in the merchant area. There were several halflings there. He didn't see Jethro, but he did see the older woman he'd dealt with before. They were talking angrily and searching through the empty crates.

Milo dropped off a rooftop, landing two feet away from the shop. "Where's Jethro, we need to talk."

The old woman and four other halflings turned quickly. Grandma stepped up to him. "Trust me, I'm wondering about that myself. He has a lot of explaining to do before I strip his hide, tan it, and roll what's left in salt. The clan is a little angry at him right now. Among other things, the little shit got us caught up in some deal and nearly sold on the auction block at Fort Hopeless. And when we get rescued, we come home to find our shop in shambles and all of our stock gone." She stared hard at Milo, "Was that you that I saw sneaking around just before all the crazy stuff happened? I thought that it looked like you, but I was a little worn out at the time."

Milo remembered seeing halflings in some of the cages. From the state of their dress, and exhausted look, all five of these had been on the airship. Milo nodded, acknowledging her guess. "Yes, he captured me as well. He betrayed me to the Wizard, and I was captured. Right here in fact, while I was talking with with Jethro. Philistron kept some of us in another room where he tortured us. We got out and stole the ship."

Grandma looked at the others. "Nothing for it then. We leave for good. We can't rebuild with the chance of a slaver around." One halfling picked up a box with a few items in it, none of it cheese, according to Milo's nose.

"You don't have to stay here, but you also don't have to fear Philistron. He's dead."

The old halfling looked at him hard, trying to get the truth. Finally, she nodded. "Ok, I'm happy for that. And if you had anything to do with it, you have my blessing. Maybe we're here next time you show up, maybe not. It's going to take a lot of rebuilding and help from another clan." They turned and walked away, clearly exhausted and depressed.

Milo moved through the town. There was a lot of chaos. He smelled smoke, and from the rooftops, he could see a section of the docks had burnt, and then the fire had moved up-cave devouring houses and other buildings. He stopped at two taverns, several street vendors, and one of the larger merchants: no one had food, let alone some cheese. The merchant gave him a clue. "Go see Gert, she's been buying up food. Paid me double for every bale and barrel. I kept just enough for my family."

Milo followed his directions to a large warehouse down at the docks. From one roof over and two stories up he could see the warehouse, with quite a few large guards around it. Over two hundred people were in front of the warehouse. He knew some of them. Brother Ignatius was there with several members of his choir. Milo wanted to thank them for their help, but he wasn't sure about going down into the crowd.

The door opened and a large, muscular woman walked out, flanked by two more guards. Milo wasn't good with the age of people, but she looked old and tough. She didn't seem happy to see a lot of customers, that was for sure.

"Last deal of the day. Then I need my beauty rest. If you have food for sale, I'm buying and paying higher than anyone in town. I'm not selling for another two days. Deal with it." There were grumbles and shouts from the crowd, and some people pleaded. Gert didn't seem moved by any of it.

Ignatius moved forward. "Gert, please. There are people who have lost their homes to the fires and looting and need food and shelter. The church is doing what it can to house them, but we can't feed them. Food is in scarce supply and locked in warehouses like yours. We aren't beggars, but we can't pay four times normal prices, and can't wait another two days. People will die. Some of them are your people. You grew up with some of these families."

Gert sighed heavily. Ignatius was one of the few people who could talk to her like that, and he knew it. But she wasn't that little girl anymore. That person died while she worked hard to fill her mouth and only a few had helped her survive. She'd worked the fishing boats and the docks for copper coins and fish to fill her belly. She'd saved and gambled and done things she didn't want to think about to earn her first grubstack to buy cargo and resell it in her small shop. She'd dealt with thieves, been cheated, and robbed, but kept working and saving. This warehouse was forty years of hard work and all of it hers. If she could make extra profit today, it would balance all the lean years that had come before.

"Not my people. Just people. Everyone is out for themselves in this town. You should know that by now. Charity will just leave me broke, and there will be more hungry people next week. Maybe I'll be one of them. Now I suggest you move on. I've done nothing wrong, just bought and sold. No looting, and I don't buy looted goods. Squint isn't going to come down hard on me for making a profit."

Milo was pondering what was going on here. He saw Gert's point. If she was playing by the rules, what was the problem? She looked like she worked hard. There was not a speck of fat on her. At the same time, Brother Ignatius was working to feed everyone. Was he like the food cube delivery system? Making sure everyone got at least some food. If so, it looked like a broken system. But it wasn't Milo's problem to fix, was it? He didn't understand people, so he didn't trust himself to solve their problems.

He wondered if he'd have enough money to buy his own food. Besides his ruby and a few silver, did he have anything of value? Maybe in his stash. In the craziness of the airship, he had tossed lots of stuff into his stash but hadn't been paying attention. Some of it had been books and boxes, but there had been some treasure with jewels. Hadn't he grabbed a bag of coins, too? He'd been half-crazed then, and working fast. Hidden on the rooftop, he brought out the secret box and grabbed a couple of items. One of them looked valuable, with all the jewels covering it. It took some time to repack the box, he had too much inside. He'd have to go dump this soon, hopefully in his Arcane Library. There were a lot of books. He pocketed the items and was about to head to the Rustyguts Inn and see if Ralph had any food when he saw another person he knew in the crowd.

"But I'm hungry!" The small child wailed. An older girl ran forward to get him but he slipped free running up to the front of the crowd. "No, I won't be quiet! Gert is being a big Doody-Pants and hiding all the apples! I'm hungry!"

Milo's eyes narrowed. His brain quit pondering the situation. It became clear in his mind. He ran to the edge of the building and leaped high into the air, sailing over the crowd and landing in a tumbling roll in the open space in front of Gert and her men. From behind him, he heard a child's voice muffled by his sister's hand over his mouth. "Mr. Tails."

The guards all reached for their weapons. Milo held out his empty hands.

"Hi, I'm Milo. I want to do some business."