Nirlig, as it turned out, was a true people person. Bernt thought he’d done reasonably well, getting to know the names of a few of the newbies and helping Lin, the matronly goblin witch, to heat her tea the previous morning.

But Bernt was apparently an amateur when it came to socializing. The gregarious goblin knew practically everyone. As they entered the Underkeepers' headquarters he saw and greeted the door guard, a dwarf that Bernt couldn’t remember seeing before, by name. He waved to and greeted every goblin, dwarf and gnome they passed in the halls, saying hello and inquiring about pets or minor personal details in passing.

How had he possibly gotten to know so many people in... what, a few days? Then again, watching him go, it was easy to see how. It was impressive to watch as he finished one passing chat to begin another, all without missing a beat, slowing down, or failing to hear what anyone else was saying.

They were about to turn the corner into the break room – where Bernt hoped to snag another cup of Lin’s tea before starting the day, when a door clicked open and a familiar voice rang down the hallway.

“Now listen here, you old bastard. I know better than anyone that I can’t stop my son from making naive, foolish decisions, but by Oreleth, you’ll keep him well out of harm’s way or I don’t care what it costs – I’m going to come for you. Do you understand me?”

A portly man in a stylish and highly decorated city guard’s uniform came around the corner, following half a step behind Ed, who looked more annoyed than threatened by his words. Bernt recognized him as Guard Commander Righmond as they walked past the little group, neither taking notice of him or his companions.

“The entire Undercity is ‘in harm’s way’, relatively speaking – that was kind of the point!” Ed sighed and shook his head at the other man. “But I’m not going to send your kid out to fight duergar just because you’re an asshole. He’ll be fine. He’ll get some training and a little discipline, maybe pick up a few skills and do some patrolling. He can make friends here who will watch his back. Listen, I’ve trained a lot of green recruits in my day....”

The two vanished around another corner, and their voices grew too indistinct to make out.

What was all that about? Shaking his head, Bernt stepped into the break room and headed for the little kitchen in the corner. He’d already taken a few steps when he noticed that it was oddly quiet. Not silent, just... muted. There were a lot of people in the room, sitting around tables and murmuring softly to one another, totally unlike the dull roar that had filled the place the previous day.

It only took Bernt one quick look around to find the source of the odd mood in the room. A young man wearing an expensive looking white tunic sat awkwardly at a table in one corner. He had a scabbarded sword leaned against the wall next to him, and he was the only one in the room out of uniform. Then again, nobody in their right mind wore brilliant white tunics – they were impossible to keep clean. There was only one place in the city where people walked around dressed like that – the Temple District. The others threw glances his way that ranged from curious to uncomfortable.

They kept their distance and no one approached him. No one except Nirlig, of course. As the friendly goblin finished another quick conversation, all the while sampling someone’s drink at their insistence, he moved directly over to the newcomer and settled down at his table. As he did, Jori jumped up onto the table next to him. The human flinched back and looked nervously between them, but then took Nirlig’s proffered hand.

Bernt could already guess who this had to be. Wondering briefly if he was going to regret this, he gathered up four cups, heated a bit of fresh water with a cantrip, and went looking for Lin’s bag of tea.

–--------

“—heard that the Underkeepers were fighting them,” the young man was saying as Bernt walked up with the tea. “Paladins don’t get chosen for their inaction. They’re supposed to put themselves between the faithful and the forces of evil. Instead, we got saved from a warlock infiltrator yesterday by a handful of Underkeepers. It’s the last straw! I can’t just sit around up there anymore, I need to get out there!”

“That was me!” Jori said happily. “Bernt and I, and Josie the Solicitor went under the Paladin’s Hall and caught him! He had a nasty alchemical fire thing, too.” Jori held out her hands to illustrate its size and shape. “He tried to throw it, but I caught it right out of the air!”

The acolyte, seemed… well, he was looking a little green around the gills and staring at the little imp. All things considered, though, he still seemed surprisingly amenable to sharing a table with a demon and a goblin.

A second passed, then he made a strange noise and threw up his hands in obvious frustration. “That’s even worse! I can’t believe none of the temples sent any paladins to support the Underkeepers when it became clear that this would be the second line of defense behind the army.”

“So, I guess they didn’t send you, either?” Bernt set down the cups and passed one to him. “I’m Bernt.”

“Uh. hi. I’m Torvald,” he answered, looking a little relieved to see another human. He gestured down at his white attire. “And no, of course not. I’m not a paladin yet! I haven’t been chosen. Most of us just work in the Temple District until we get our first calling. But I’ve always known where I’m supposed to be. Most of the gods who choose paladins reward initiative. So, why wait to do the right thing? I signed up as a recruit.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you!” Nirlig said encouragingly. “We’ve got the mages, a witch, two druids, a thief, a warlock and a bunch of skilled fighters of different kinds. And Jori here – I don’t know exactly how she fits, but she works here too! No clerics and no paladins by my count until you showed up.” The goblin smiled. "But there's plenty of room in the organization!"

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The young man tore his wide eyes from Jori to blink at him.

“Uh. A witch?”

“They’re sort of like a self-taught hedge mage that incorporates alchemy and ritual magic to whatever effect they can manage,” Bernt explained, “Usually to act as a rudimentary healer of some kind for someplace that doesn’t have healing potions… or clerics…” he trailed off, interrupted by Nirlig’s snorting laugh.

“Haha. Maybe human witches, sure. Goblin witchcraft is an ancient tradition,” the goblin explained, eyes gleaming with humor. “It’s hardly the same as a human villager playing with herbs. That tea there will keep you going all day and make sure you sleep like a baby tonight.”

Surprised, Bernt opened his mouth to ask what, exactly, goblin witches were capable of, but was interrupted by the sound of a bell. It echoed through the halls, striking four times, and Nirlig got up, downing his cup in a single gulp.

“Alright, I have to go. That’s the signal for change of shift. It was wonderful to meet you all. I’ll see you around!”

Jori scampered after him, chattering at him about how she fit in just fine, thank you, and that she was an 'integral part of the Underkeepers’ peacekeeping and counterterrorism operations' – where had she picked up a phrase like that?

Bernt put it out of his mind and looked curiously at his tea, trying to sense any mana in it. He couldn’t. With a shrug, he rose as well and nodded to the incipient paladin, who was still watching the departing goblin and imp. “Alright, I need to go pick up my assignment. I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”

Bernt hadn’t actually done any guard duty so far, and hadn’t even realized that they had a signal bell – though he supposed it made sense. Had the others been briefed on all this? He'd only been off work for a single day!

–---------

Bernt wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting – maybe normal maintenance or pest management duties, or trying to root out other potential infiltrators. Could there really have only been just one patrol of dwarves that got through? Instead, he found himself sitting in a quiet room alongside Kustov, Yarrod, Dayle and Fiora detailing the correct procedures for identifying, handling and disposing of a variety of controlled alchemical substances under Ed’s stern gaze. Jori somehow talked Palina into assigning her to “help” Nirlig guard a new access stairwell that someone, probably Kustov, had built to connect the new Underworks directly to the Crafters’ District.

The two chatted like old friends about how convenient the stairs would be for daily commuters, who would otherwise have to walk nearly half an hour down through the Undercity Gate, down the tunnel, through the Undercity Market and then through the left hand tunnel to circle back underneath the Crafter’s District.

Bernt did his best to tune them out and got to work.

An hour into the process, he shook out his cramping hand and silently thanked Aedina, the goddess of knowledge, that he’d spent so much time studying the procedures. In practice, Underkeepers almost never encountered any of these substances. By the time they reached a contaminated site, they were usually diluted into the water or fully spent on whatever effect they had – spawning slimes, killing or mutating the local fauna, or just setting the entire sewer aglow. After that, they usually weren’t dangerous to touch – if anything remained at all.

Bernt had little trouble answering the questions, but he couldn’t shake a sense of unease as he worked. Why were they sitting here taking a test when they’d been fighting duergar infiltrators just yesterday? Ed hadn’t said anything about it. Shouldn’t they be preparing for… something? Anything?

When they finished, they followed Ed back to his office with the tests, where he barely glanced over them before slapping them down into a drawer and signing a waste management certification for each of them, which he immediately dumped on top of the other papers in the same drawer.

Fiora cleared her throat. “Damn it, Ed. There’s a brand new filing cabinet right behind you.”

Ed narrowed his eyes at her for a moment. Then sighed, put down his pipe and heaved himself up out of his chair, extracting the entire mess back out of his drawer to go hunting for the correct file folder.

“Should hire a secretary around here.” The old man grumbled under his breath. “Iri has a secretary, sort of. Got to do every damned thing myself around here.”

“Alright.” He finished, slamming the cabinet shut with a satisfied air. “That’s taken care of. That means we can finally deal with this backlog of reports from the alchemists. Those idiots have been driving me crazy – it’s their own damned fault it took so long to get around to them.”

Bernt stared at Ed, his vague sense of unease finally spilling over.

“Ed. Why are we getting sent up for maintenance work?” he asked. “We got attacked yesterday, and the new guards have barely even started training. Shouldn’t we be doing something?”

Ed shrugged. “We’re doing plenty. The Mages’ Guild has a handful of abjurers working on warding the stone to keep out sappers – they even hired Janus from the Adventurers. Once they finish, it’ll be very difficult to attack Halfbridge’s most critical areas from below. At least without being detected long before they break through. The army’s watching its own lines, which screens us from the bulk of their forces, and we’re here keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity on the street.”

Bernt looked from Ed over at the others.

“War’s mostly just waitin’ around.” Dayle said. “It’s not even a war yet, really. This here all is just foreplay. They’re gonna cry big crocodile tears about rogue elements in their ranks or somethin’ for a few days – maybe it’ll settle back down, or maybe they’ll try something. Or maybe the general will lose his patience and go lookin’ for trouble. It’s not up to us. So, you know... might as well get some work done before the fires start.”

Ed grunted in agreement. “Work doesn’t stop for fighting more than it has to. Especially infrastructure maintenance and repair. But you’re not going to be visiting any alchemists. I doubt that they’d do anything to you now, but I think I’d rather keep you away from them after all that nonsense last month. Besides, I have another project for you. We have a new recruit who showed up at my door last night. Might be useful to have around if we can train him up a bit.”

“Torvald?” Bernt asked. “The white-shirt from the Temple District?”

Ed nodded, eyebrows rising in mild surprise. “You met him? That’s good. Yes. He seemed awfully fired up to go fight demons or some such nonsense. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea of what we do here, so I want you to grab him and Josie from the training yard and start working the west side of the Lower District. We haven’t been down there in a while, because there weren’t any complaints – but there never are. You’ll want to grab one of the big carts from the old office.”

Bernt suppressed a groan.

When was he going to get some good, clean guard duty? Just sitting around at a guard station or patrolling around in the street sounded incredible compared to scratching months-old muck out of under-maintained sewer grating and rooting out nests of unidentifiable mutants.

At least he’d have two people to help him out, though he couldn’t imagine that a warlock and a temple acolyte would work together very well.