Our small war council sat around one of the rock pools while we discussed the best way to get rid of the Thieves Guild. We knew where they were located, and that they would return tenfold any strike we visited upon them. 

Unless we destroyed them flat out, something that would be next to impossible, or whoever attacked was scary enough to dissuade or distract them. But that would require finding someone to do our dirty work for us. Not impossible, they certainly made enemies. 

Plus, with the amount of treasure we held? The latter wouldn’t be too hard. After all, they didn’t mess with the upper floor surveyors. No one wanted The Council to call in the Adventurers.

Far too much mess.

With a quick check of the crumpled paper that kicked everything off, Pitch started gathering gold. One thousand. Enough to cover my rent for months. Enough that our urchin tails would steal it in a heartbeat.

Nonasia smiled at the idea, diving back into the ocean with a cheery call to wait. While she vanished to solve that issue, Pitch helped me pack the one thousand gold into the basket. Maybe if we weighed it down with rocks, their little arms couldn’t carry it as far? Should work, provided Torug didn’t get involved.

A fist-sized dark-gray rock caught my eye when Nonasia returned with a mass of wriggling fish in her arms, differing in both color and size. They flopped about where she set them down.

“Scent is a territory marker,” She said as Pitch started stabbing them at her command.

The idea was brilliant. Who would want to stick their hand in rotting fish guts? Not a bunch of untrained children. We hoped.

We waited until midday to leave, giving the disemboweled fish a chance to sit out in the sun. Throughout the morning, Nonasia begged for more stories, and we all sat and laughed our cares away.

One boat ride later, and a slog up the cliffside, we made it back to town. Noses wrinkled as we passed the docks on our way to The Guildhall. It appeared not even professional sailors got used to the rotten smell.

Torug was nowhere to be seen, but his students watched us from every shadowy corner they could find. An older boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, was brave enough to approach us on the street. He got within spitting distance before his swaggering gait turned into a stumble. His eyes glanced at the basket, then at my placid smile.

A hand rose to his mouth, and he bolted down a nearby alleyway. Jeers and teasing shouts followed him, though none of the other children closed in. Smart kids. Pitch wouldn’t hesitate to stab children, and nobody wanted to witness that on a public street.

They tailed us, whispers and insults hurled at our backs, until The Guild door closed behind us. None followed. The last time an Urchin snuck in, The Council ordered someone to boot them bodily from the building. Into a light post. Headfirst.

The Street Sweeping Guild complained for days about the mess. As for the child? None of us ever saw them walk again.

Nobody stopped us as we made our way down to reception. Smells weren’t uncommon here, a byproduct of our work. Maps were clients’ primary reasons for hiring our services, but some wanted a simple ingredient or two fetched while we were out. Extra pay could get someone a lot of leeway. Plus, we charged less than the Adventurer’s Guild.

A popular story was about Julithon and his return from his desert trip. A client’s task required him to gather Gryphon manure while mapping out sections of cliffs. Easy enough, as they pooped everywhere. Foul creatures. All the pride of cats, all the mess of birds. The males even sprayed.

He completed the trek back home without incident. His head held high in pride, and as he entered the lobby, the topmost bag split at the seams. It took days to clean up, and my Master claimed they never got the smell out.

We waited in line, as Hethrederin served the Elven woman that Howard shot at. Her shoulders drooped as the scroll cases dropped to the ground. But brightened at my offer to help them pick them up.

She told me, in a hurried whisper, that her latest mission forced her to travel the Swamps. The whole place was in chaos. Trees and landmarks torn down or consumed. Multiple adventurers were demanding maps of the area.

My wince of sympathy wasn’t subtle. Mapping in a war zone was the worst. You never know when you’d die, adding days to the trip. But if something you noted got destroyed or transformed? People started demanding refunds for useless map work.

As we grabbed the last map, her eyes widened at my whisper.

“Don’t worry. It’s going to get better soon. Promise.”

Her eyes met mine, and as tears welled up, every part of me realized it was true. It would get better. Even if we needed to spend all our discovered treasure to make it happen. There were two ways to reach the upper levels: promotion or payment.

The latter was more myth than rule nowadays, no one having the funds to try in decades.

Hethrederin smiled as we reached the counter.

“What can I do for ya, lads?” His voice was calm, not wavering once as we shoved the stinking picnic basket towards him. That changed as we pulled out the gold and a blood-stained note. 

His eyes read the words and reread them. “I’ll. I’ll have to count...” He trailed off, as his hands shifted through the messy pile. At my nod, he started his count. Pitch tugged at my hair in boredom, interspersed with bouts of flying about the room. 

Nobody else entered after us, so there was no need to stop her fun. 

“Sorry about that.” Hethrederin wiped his brow. “Can’t allow you to cheat The Council, of course.” His tone made it clear he cared, but only in the sense that he would get in trouble for not checking.

“Is it—”

“—all there.” He cut me off. “I need to send through the paperwork. Please sign here if you would be so kind?”

My pen scribbled signatures with a speed that would make The Scribe Guild’s best jealous. Once complete, he sent it through a series of tubes, alongside the gold, and within moments something came back.

A small orb plopped onto his desk, rolling to a stop at the very edge. We both let out a relieved breath.  

“Welcome to the upper floors, lad.” 

“Thank you Hethrederin.” 

Inside the box was a torn cushion, on which my new guild badge sat. The golden fox head glinting in the sun. 

Pitch threw her hands up, and no part of me resisted joining in.

Though, before we headed upstairs, there was one more question to ask. 

“Hey, Hethrederin. How much is it to buy one of these again?” 

My smile grew at his bewildered response and widened as his eyes bulged out at my casual tone. 

“And can someone buy multiple at once?” 

***

The wall that blocked the stairs was no longer present, allowing me access to the upper floors. No one met me on the stairs or even acknowledged my existence as we entered what would be our new workspace. 

A small group, containing Howard Stalker, sat nearby, chatting and laughing. In the corner, eyes closed, a bard played a gentle tune on a cello. The fireplace crackled, keeping the room cozy. 

None of it felt familiar. When my Master was teaching me, we spent little time here. She preferred being out and about, completing jobs, and drinking in whatever roadside pubs came our way. My imagination worked overtime, filled in the gaps, imagining camaraderie and good cheer.

No longer.

Someone behind me coughed, interrupting my train of thought. A gnomish man held a silver tray, pushing it towards me as soon as he realized my attention was on him. 

“Brandy sir?” He asked, his voice deep and measured. 

When was the last time someone offered me brandy? Maybe my mentorship? Not that anyone knew my Master for her love of sharing a bottle. 

“Please and thank you.” 

He handed a glass over and stared at Pitch, who smiled back. 

“And for the Lady?” 

Pitch looked at me, hope shining in her eyes, bouncing when she saw me shrug. 

“If you have a small enough glass.” 

He didn’t smile, nor nod, but something about his posture let me know he approved. “I’ll be back momentarily.” 

His footsteps made no sound on the expensive carpet as he moved to serve the other group. They each took a glass without a word or glance. Shits. Not long after, Pitch sipped at her brandy while we watched the door. 

There would be a job today if we were lucky. Something that would allow us to show off in an official capacity. The plan wouldn’t work unless everyone saw my upgraded badge, and it went against regulations to wear them when not working. Though, did that apply now? Without my handbook handy, it wasn’t worth the risk of testing it.  

Lutheris answered our prayers by mid-afternoon. Howard’s table called over the gnomish man another six times, and the group grew louder and more violent with how they handled their cards. Pitch refused any more after her first and was dozing against my thigh. Lightweight. My second glass was still close to full as a richly dressed adventurer strode inside.

 My smile fell into place at her appearance. She was a lizardkin, with green scales, accented by the royal purple armor that glowed with obvious magic. One hand clutched a coin purse that jangled as she walked. 

All my prayers were answered. 

None of the others appeared to notice her, so when she saw me rise from my seat, she moved over immediately. After a firm handshake, and the usual greetings, she smiled and sat down, grabbing a drink from the gnome who appeared beside us.

She thanked him and took a sip, closing her eyes as if to savor the bottle. When she finished her glass, we discussed what she required. A civil discussion, unlike the threat-filled browbeating of those barbarians.

On the planes around the city, traders and their guards complained that the giant rabbit population was exploding again. My job was to infiltrate The Warrens and see how many of them were still underground, alongside whatever leaders hid among them. 

She would require maps alongside any additional information. A nice, straightforward job. 

Her payment sat on the table as she left, and my hands trembled as we opened it. My breath hitched. Compared to what we found inside the ship, it was nothing. But compared to before? This was easily more than a month’s wages on its own. 

We’d have to stop at the house before we left. Couldn’t exactly take it with us.

Torugs’ face fell as he saw the badge that gleamed on my chest. 

The urchin children dropped away as he approached me. An obvious attempt to give us some space. They stood huddled together, sneering at me as they waited. 

“Well, would ya look at that,” He forced a smile, even as his eyes burned at the sight of the golden badge adorning my tunic, though his tone remained polite. 

“How did this happen?” 

“There was a contest,” My reply was concise. On the off chance, he thought that messing with a newer member would cause less trouble. 

“Well. Congratulations,” He spat. “Come on, you lot.” His big hand flicked the ear of a slower child, who still looked confused. 

That was fun. 

With the coins now stored away in my usual hiding place, we left for the city gates. Step one of gathering protection was complete. 

It was nice to tick an item off the list.

***

Unlike our previous jobs, The Warrens were located close to The Capital. The day was pleasant, the air was cool, and the sun was shining. A long overdue chance for a relaxing walk for once. It was hard not to feel optimistic about our chances. 

The single mood dampener came down to my lack of experience with the area. Few maps of the area surrounding the warrens were ever commissioned. Mostly due to the fact, that there was little to make note of. 

We stopped to eat in the shade of a massive berry bush, one of many that dotted the landscape. No one knew who planted them, or how to harvest the giant fruit that covered them. Several people made attempts over the years, but neither spells nor steel could pierce the outer layer. None of the local monsters bothered with them, with any carnivores avoiding them outright.

As we ate, the beasts the traders described came into view. A rabbit, the size of a horse, grazed the grassland nearby, each hopping movement shaking the ground. Dangerous? Rarely. The biggest concern was their tendency to not look where they leaped. Their meat was a fantastic export, which was the big reason the King didn’t call the Adventurers to cull them to extinction.

No matter how much the locals wished he would.

Beneath another bush, this one with pungent golden fruit was our destination. A dirt ramp that led into the ground, guarded by two beastkin. The two rabbitkin stood straight-backed, one holding a spear and the other wielding a bow. Both looked stern. Their close-cropped hair was of a similar style, as was their height; Five-feet. Though, their large fluffy rabbit ears sticking up added to some of that.

Brown fur covered their legs, blending in with their darker skin tone and hair color. It was impossible to tell from this angle if their button tails matched. Though no reason they shouldn’t.

Pitch peered through the upper leaves of the bush we hid behind as she waited for me to finish sketching them alongside the entrance.

Both looked bored. Good, that might mean distracting them might be easy. At my soft hum, Pitch turned and saw my stabbing motion. She looked confused until she saw me nod at the guards. Then she grinned and repeated the gesture before pointing at her own backside.

Only the gods know how she stayed quiet at my insistent nod. 

Upon seeing my thumbs up, Pitch saluted before flying off with one hand covering her mouth. By flying in a wide circle, she stayed out of their line of sight before she vanished into the bush behind them.

Her red hair poking out from the bush was the single thing that alerted me she’d arrived. Without a sound, she inched her way close to the guard’s ear before leaning in and screaming. A single high-pitched note, with a hint of a sing-song warbling to drive it home.

Her victim turned, and before the other guard could follow suit, Pitch dropped low and stabbed forward with her pitchfork. The second guard yelped as the devious sprite flew away from her well-rounded bottom. It turned out the button tails matched. Adorable.

As the two guards let out enraged squeals, Pitch bolted, giggling. The guards gave chase.

That was my cue.

Puffs of dirt sprang up under my heels as the entrance drew closer, and my mana circulated for the upcoming darkness. My boot caught a rock, which turned my sprint into a tumble down the ramp.

That hurt.

No sounds sprang up while my body ached on the ground, my fall hopefully not alerting any guards. With a quick check, none were present. All that surrounded me were dirt walls and the smell of chopped vegetables mixed with damp earth. Before rising, a quick check of my bag showed me none of my materials broke during the fall.

Good. That meant mapping was still possible. My client paid well for one.  

The earthen wall was solid enough that using it to regain my feet didn’t dislodge so much as a single grain of dirt. Neat. That meant it was unlikely for anything to burst through the walls. Unless the bigger bunnies didn’t have that problem?

Not worth worrying about. It’d happen or it wouldn’t.

My stride through the tunnels that twisted around me in a maze of intersecting corridors was slow. Partially to remain quiet, and partially to make it easier for Pitch to catch up. Though, thinking through that, made me realize how silly that idea was.

Guilt gnawed at me, at the realization that Pitch’s chances of locating me down here were basically zero. Even with the map in front of me, my mind struggled to retrace my steps. 

Pausing, allowed me to think it through. Eventually, the feeling vanished at the memory of her laughter at being allowed to cause mischief. 

She was a demonic sprite, keeping her civil was mean. So why not let her loose where she couldn’t get us arrested? Besides, she’d be fine. If something killed me, or worse, her, we’d arrive back on the island.

The further the tunnels went, the more the floor sloped downwards, ending occasionally in large circular rooms. Empty mostly, though signs of life were everywhere, from beds to Kitchen supplies.

No monsters, however, though a faintly rhythmic pounding sounded from further in. Some kind of music? That or those giant rabbits were hopping in a very bizarre pattern. While double-checking my map, a sound in front of me made me duck into a nearby shadow.

A rabbitkin, similar to the ones at the entrance, walked by with a spring in her step. She didn’t turn around, too busy bobbing her head to something only she could hear. Watching her go left me with two options. Follow her, or go down the corridor she appeared from.

The choice to follow her didn’t last long. Music blared from further down the tunnel, a mix of sounds far different from the bard songs played in The Capital. Drums, or some other heavy percussion, mixed with off-key vocals. Screams overlaid the whole thing, causing my ears to ring.

Whatever was happening down there involved people. Not worth it.

Dead silence greeted me from the other corridor, the dark interior offering me plenty of places to hide. Darkness swallowed me, allowing me to feel safe while creeping down the tunnel.

A false safety, it turned out.

Less than thirty paces in, something hit me from behind.  

An annoyed huff was audible before unconsciousness claimed me.

***

Cords dug into my wrists, as the sneering face of my captor hovered above me. One of her sharpened, knife-like heels rested on my chest. When she noticed me watching her, it dragged down, cutting open my shirt and digging into my flesh. Pain flared. This would not be fun.

“Sneak into my home, little fox?” Her voice was firm. A teacher ready to issue a command, or a guard about to explain a minor rules violation.

My eyes locked on hers, deep black eyes staring down at me, demanding an answer.

“There have been complaints about the giant rabbits outside. The Surveyors Guild sent me to, well, survey the area,” My voice quavered and ended in a hiss as her heel dug down between my ribs.

She penetrated the skin with ease, though didn’t go deep enough to hit anything important. There was little doubt in my mind she could have.  

“I saw your maps. Very good,” Her sneer deepened, and she dragged the tip of her heel to one of my hands. “Skillful hands, yes?”

There was no holding back the scream as her heel pierced through my hand. She jiggled it, laughing as tears welled in my eyes. With a jerk, she pulled out the heel and walked away towards a nearby closet, allowing me my first proper look at her.

Long black hair flowed down her back, the shade matching the tight leather bodysuit that clung to her frame. Blood marred one of her heels as she grabbed something from the closet. When she turned, she waved it over her head.

A riding crop.

Why would she even have those?

The pain didn’t stop one fact being obvious; it was time to leave. Standing wasn’t an option, but a slow crawl? That was manageable. She didn’t agree. With a soft curse, she leaped across the room, landing beside me and driving a foot into my side.

My scream made her laugh.

Her black hair flicked about almost as violently as her whip, as it cracked down onto my cheek. She continued, eyes unfocused as the pain flared up.

Blows continued to rain down, and as they did, words flew from her mouth. Complaints, mostly. These ranged from the adventurers who came down to harass her kind to the traders who dumped rubbish all throughout the plains.

Welts formed with every word as she ranted and raved. At one point, she attempted to tear my maps, to no avail. Nobody could. The specialized surveyors’ paper was a dead wizard’s protected recipe. A neat perk that The Guild charged a fortune to supply.

Unable to break them, she flung them, and the bag she stuffed them into, at my face. The bag strap caught in my teeth. 

“—and that’s why you never let a bunch of stupid rabbitkins’ party. No work gets done and someone, like me, has to whip them back into shape!” She was howling now as she stomped on my throat.

Gratitude filled me, even as the last breath slipped from my gasping lungs.

Nonasia sat nearby, eyes wide as she watched me sit up and wave over at Pitch. The sprite was in a fit of laughter, doubled over and banging her fists into the ground. Before anyone could speak, the demonic sprite dashed over to me and pantomimed her flight from the guards. From the way she contorted her face, they made a lot of stupid expressions whenever they missed their jumps.

Relief filled me to see her unharmed.

Nonasia demanded we explain what happened, and seeing as she held our way out, we agreed.

The smile on her face was more than worth the time.