The new complex was massive – at least compared to their old headquarters. It made sense, since there was no way that nearly forty people could operate out of the tiny facilities that they’d had before. This, though, was sized for at least three times as many people, probably closer to one hundred fifty, and there was no reason they couldn’t expand out further into the earth. They had Kustov, after all. There were several offices, a training room, equipment storage, a massive kitchen and canteen, a break room and, of course, an armory.
“Okay everyone, and now to the good part.” Ed said, leading them into the last large room. The walls were lined with mundane weaponry – spears, long knives, and stacks of basic armor. Gambesons, mail, helmets and boots. Most of it wasn’t new, but it all looked to be in good repair. Bernt had no idea where Ed might have gotten it.
“Underkeepers without preexisting fighting qualifications are going to get the same basic guard training as the city guards. Former adventurers get more specialized equipment when we can find it. You, our original underkeepers, are also going to have some specialized kit. Mages outside the military aren’t allowed to wear uniforms or armor in any style resembling Beseri army’s, so you’re going to be wearing these.”
He reached down behind the tall stack of gambesons and picked up a gray bundle, checked a note that had been pinned to it, and tossed it to Bernt.
Bernt caught it and let it unfurl. It was a gray robe, almost exactly like the one he was wearing, but the material was thicker and the whole thing was a lot heavier. Metal peeked out from the inside.
“Your new robes are lined with mail around the torso, like you’d usually get for adventuring gear.” Ed explained as he passed the new robes out. “They’re also enchanted to repel water, so you shouldn’t have to worry about staining in the future when you’re working up in the sewers. Same with the boots over there. There wasn’t enough in the budget for defensive enchantments, but they don’t even spring for that in the military. It’s turning out better than I expected, all things considered.”
Josie cleared her throat. She hadn’t received a robe, which made sense – she wasn’t a mage. She was still wearing her own clothes, the ones she’d brought with her on her first day.
“Uh… what about me?” She asked, looking around at the gear all around her.
“I asked Radast about it, since you’re technically on loan.” Ed said his usual scowl taking on a wry edge as he talked. “He said he was going to handle your equipment himself – something about warlocks having ‘standards’. Don’t worry, you’ll probably be better equipped than anyone here.”
Turning away, he led the group over to the weapons.
“Each of you is going to start carrying a dagger as a sidearm. I expect all of you to develop at least some basic competency in close fighting with our new trainer, who you’ll meet tomorrow – I highly recommend learning to incorporate some spellcasting with this as well. It’s highly unorthodox for mages to combine arms and magic, but orthodoxy is highly overrated when it comes to surviving to a ripe old age as a war mage.
Yarrod harrumphed pompously. “Hmpf. So, is that what we’re to be, now? War mages? I would have expected that the army that’s stationed about twenty-minutes’ walk that way would cover that part if worse came to worst.”
Ed barked a humorless laugh. “Wars aren’t fought along neat, impenetrable lines, my friend, and nothing about the Duergar Empire’s movements would suggest that they’re planning to play nice for long. I would be surprised if we get through this whole mess unscathed. Allowing you to muddle through with the skills you developed wiping out the minor nuisances that plague the sewers would not be… appropriate.”
He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. “We’re getting off track a bit. Just trust me on this, alright? I’m looking out for you.”
The archmage turned around and pulled two staves, which Bernt had assumed were training spears, from the wall. He held the larger one out to Bernt, and the smaller to Yarrod. “I also acquired two basic war mage staves from Arice’s quartermaster. Both of you use wands right now, which is fine in most situations, but limited. You’ll need something with a bit more heft to it.”
As Bernt accepted the staff, Ed met his eyes and added, dryly. “It’s also useful to have a quality general focus on hand, for when you can’t burn your way past your problems with more specialized equipment.”
Bernt grinned. He almost couldn’t wait, but he restrained himself and took his time to pick out a pair of boots that fit properly before leaving. He’d probably be using them for a long time.
–------
“Under ‘reason for resettlement’ you wrote ‘work’,“ the weary-looking clerk said with dead eyes. “While we expect the Undercity’s economy to develop quickly, there are currently no known employment opportunities in the Undercity."
Bernt sighed and threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder. A long line of impatient-looking dwarves, goblins, a few humans and a handful of gnomes stretched out behind him, extending far out of the magistrate’s office into the hallway.
He’d listed work as his reason because he assumed that “I want to find a home for my demonic familiar” wouldn’t go over quite as well on a resettlement claim. Apparently he’d been wrong.
“I already have a job.” Bernt said, indicating vaguely at his robes. “I’m an underkeeper. The new headquarters is located in the Undercity. As it is now, I’d have to walk over half an hour to reach it.”
“Ah” the clerk grunted, scribbling something on Bernt’s form. He hoped it wasn’t going to be a problem. It couldn’t be, right? They were planning to move goblins down there. Why wouldn’t they let him live there?
“Alright,” the taciturn dwarf went on as he copied Bernt’s responses onto another sheet. “To limit religious tensions, the district has two separate residential quarters for adherents to shamanistic traditions and one that houses temples to the three dwarven deities that our own temple district hasn’t been able to accommodate thus far. Do you have any particular preference?”
That was a strange way to say that they were planning to segregate the goblins off into their own neighborhood. Bernt supposed not all goblins were shamanistic, but still.
“What about the third neighborhood?” he asked.
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“The third quarter is going to function as sort of a secondary crafter’s district – it’s located directly below it.” He nodded over to another, much shorter line, populated almost entirely by dwarves. “Only registered artisans are permitted to settle there.”
“I see.” Bernt said, doing his best not to fidget impatiently. “Is there anything close to the central marketplace? That’s where the new headquarters is. I don’t worship spirits or dwarven gods, so the neighborhood isn’t really that important to me.”
The clerk scoffed and smirked disbelievingly, but he kept processing the paperwork, so Bernt supposed it was just as well.
“Alright, sure. Congratulations, you’re pre-qualified for resettlement. To obtain a resettlement permit and assigned housing, you’ll need to pay an up-front fee of seventy-five gold marks or apply for financing via the Halfbridge city bank.” He held out a form. “Don’t worry, you’re pre-approved.”
Bernt scoffed and pulled a heavy pouch out from under his robes. The dwarf stared at it in surprise and almost dropped the paper. It was almost everything he had left, but this would be worth it. No rent payments ever again. He’d be able to save money more quickly than ever before. He certainly wasn’t about to sign up to pay interest to the bank for the next several years.
He opened the pouch and started counting out coins.
–---------
Bernt tied his loose notes and papers into a bundle with a bit of string and put it inside his shoddy-looking bag of holding. It didn’t have an unlimited storage capacity – not much more than a closet, really – but it wasn’t as though he had that much stuff.
His books, an old novice’s robe, cooking implements that he hadn’t used since before he’d last moved, a blanket, and a few other effects all fit into the bag with room to spare. He’d need to buy some furnishings for the new place. And, he thought to himself as he adjusted his heavy new underkeepers’ robes, some new clothes. Running around armored all the time was way too uncomfortable.
Shouldering the bag, Bernt summoned Jori through their bond and started making his way down toward the Undercity. She reached him as he entered the Crafters’ District and they walked down the street together in the fading evening light. People turned to watch them as they passed, but they didn’t look overtly hostile anymore, as they had the first few weeks after Jori had gotten her papers and Ed had posted an official statement about her status.
Bernt very much doubted that many people had seen that statement, but they couldn’t have missed that neither guards nor solicitors ever came after him. Eventually, they’d grown more used to the sight. Though, if Ed was to be believed, that didn’t stop them from coming to him with complaints.
It had only been a few hours since he’d last been here, but the new guard station next to the gate had already been transformed. A door had been hung into the empty frame and a guard stood in front of it – one dressed almost like a normal city guard, except for her gray tabard, which held the same symbol that was carved over the door of the new Underkeepers’ Headquarters. With some surprise, Bernt recognized her. It was Palina, the lantern-jawed senior guardswoman who had worked with him and Kustov during the kobold invasion.
Apparently, she’d decided to join the Underkeepers.
He waved to her in greeting and she threw him an exaggeratedly crisp salute.
“Underkeeper Bernt!” she called and winked down at Jori, who waved back energetically. “Evening.”
“Weren’t they paying you enough in the regular guard?” Bernt asked, coming to a stop in front of her. “I didn’t think anyone would want to jump ship from the city guard to join us, considering the lack of sunlight and all the sewer work.”
“Ha!” Palina laughed. “No, I’m not doing that. I negotiated with the boss man. He needed experienced guards to teach the green recruits. And that crusty old Kustov recommended me. I got a nice pay raise out of the deal, and,” she gestured around her, “I have the only sunlit post in the entire Undercity district!”
Bernt grinned at her. “Nice, congratulations!”
“Are you going on duty?” She asked, noting his robes.
“No, it’s not that.” Bernt answered, shaking his head. “I’m actually moving down. I’ve been having trouble finding a new place, and the Undercity is turning out a lot nicer than I was expecting.”
Palina snorted, eyes crinkling deeply at the corners. “Oh, I think it’s turning out nicer than almost everyone was expecting. It’s probably some political game, but nothing for the likes of us to worry about. No sense spitting in the eye of good fortune, right?”
“Right,” Bernt said, smiling as he headed down through the archway and Jori skipped after him. The trip down the tunnel felt shorter than last time – it took maybe ten minutes to reach the Undercity’s central marketplace. Surprisingly, it looked like he wasn’t the only one eager to get moved in. While the place was mostly empty, there were already a few people walking around, taking in the new scenery or pulling carts across the square.
Bernt pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and opened it up to check for his new address. The dwarven clerk had assigned him to what he thought of as the goblin quarter, probably because he hadn’t wanted to put him into the obviously dwarven neighborhood. Following a rough map on the back of the piece of paper, Bernt went down the broad right-hand tunnel.
The neighborhood was arranged like a wheel, with broad tunnels radiating out from a small park in the center that was encircled by a single larger tunnel. The first thing he noticed was the lack of normal sewer access shafts in the street. It was strange – where was all the waste supposed to go? He couldn’t imagine that Ed would be involved in building anything without a proper waste management system. Now that he thought about it, they couldn’t exactly funnel an entire sewer system’s wastewater anywhere from here – the river was quite a ways up above this place. He’d have to ask Ed about it some time.
The walls were shaped into unfinished stone facades on all sides, revealing hundreds of plain living spaces with gaping holes where doors and shutters would go. There were a lot of homes, more than Bernt could imagine that they would need. Someone was planning for the future down here – someone with access to a lot more geomancers than just Kustov and a few army engineers. By his guess, probably Iriala and the Mages’ Guild.
While the tunnels themselves were lit by the Archdruid’s glowing vines, just as the central market area was, the homes were dark on the inside. That wouldn’t be a problem for Bernt, but everyone else would have to get creative. Maybe they could just put some of those brightly glowing flowers in a vase. The more he thought about it, the more he appreciated the cleverness of using plants as a lighting solution. They looked nice, were accessible to everyone, and probably required little or no maintenance.
It didn’t take long to find the right address – the clerk had apparently been listening after all. It was the third door down along the outer ring part of the neighborhood, almost right next to the thoroughfare that led back to the marketplace, but with enough distance that traffic wouldn’t be going right by his door. A nice gesture and not one he would have expected from the surly dwarf.
A few doors down on the other side of the street, he could see an enterprising goblin hammering shims in behind a jamb on a new door frame. Jori peered at him curiously.
“What’s he doing?” she asked.
Bernt, who was critically eying his own empty archway, looked back over at his new neighbor.
“He’s making sure that the door jambs he installed are straight, so the door doesn’t get stuck or drag on the ground when you open it.”
“Do we have to do that, too?” she asked, flinching back as the goblin shouted suddenly, threw his hammer against the wall, and then began kicking at the new door frame in rage. A moment later, a goblin woman stepped out of the door into the street, carrying a small child. She pressed the baby into the frothing man’s hands, eyed the frame critically for a moment, and then pulled some of the shims back out again.
Maybe Bernt could just straighten out the stone wall with magic.
Sure he could. Maybe.
Bernt sighed. “Probably, yes.”
Reaching into his robes, he grabbed at the now very light pouch of coins that hung around his neck. Maybe he could afford a carpenter?