After Devouring the crab corpses, I was sitting at 3,567 experience—a little under half of what I needed to level to 20. I had hoped that perhaps nine mutant crabs could count towards Chitinous Plating getting stronger, but no such luck. Oh well. I had a specific experiment I wanted to try at level 20 involving the archmage’s head I had in storage. That would have to wait; for now, I was back to crawling through this sewer with a grumpy dwarf and a racially confused orc.

  We walked for another hour or so, consulting the map I had copied whenever the path would fork or branch. Gradually, the water level receded from a few feet of murky water to a few inches before becoming simply moist concrete. Keggr and Mug climbed out of me when that happened. I wouldn’t have minded them staying, but I think they were tired of each other’s knees in each other’s groins. Plus, I wasn’t exactly a swanky ride. I was probably only slightly more comfortable than a supply closet in an earthquake, what with my jerky spider leg movement.

  After another hour of walking, during which Keggr made sure I knew all the ways dwarven architecture was superior to elven architecture (hint: it was every single way), we found ourselves at a point in the map that made me stop and metaphorically scratch my head. I guess Keggr and Mug could sense it, because they asked me what was wrong.

  ‘It’s probably nothing, but I think the map Borik gave us is wrong? See, here—’, I used Recycling and Telekinesis to print and arrange a 3D map made of sticks so that Keggr could follow along, ‘—it says that there should be a fork in the road going left. But there is only a wall here, so I guess it means that we are supposed to keep going straight?’ Mug scratched his jaw in a manner meant to imply great thought. Unfortunately, I had gotten to know him pretty well, so I knew that thought was probably as confused as mine, maybe more so. Probably more so.

  Keggr squatted and studied the map with his stubby, stained fingers, milky eyes looking at nothing. Abruptly he stood up, crossing his arms.

  “Ain’t it obvious? Ye gotta break the wall here, bucket!” He spoke with the authority of a master, but the very solid wall he pointed at sat with the authority of a brick wall. I had my doubts.

  ‘Not to question your judgment Keggr, but are you sure? Couldn’t that cause a collapse or something? Personally, I would rather not begin amateur demolition under thousands of tons of stone, but if you have a good argument for it…’ He scoffed, the small part of his face that was visible behind his great beard turning red in frustration.

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

  “What in the hells do ya mean am I sure? Course I’m sure! I’m Hreidmarr! And I know this city like the back of me hand! We’re going into Eyeball territory, and we’ve been going northwest starting at the Tallow Ends! That means if we keep going northwest ways, we’ll end up under the castle—not under the Stockyards!” I didn’t know the significance of that, so I opted to stay silent. He got my hint and let out a dramatic sigh.

  “The Stockyards is where the Eyeballs operate mostly! Where most of the more monstrous denizens live too, for that matter. Unless you think the good King Odval would be kind enough to let some vicious trolls run contraband under his noble arse?” He had a point there. Odval probably wouldn’t want a troll as a butler in his part of town, much less smuggling illegal items and feuding with orcs.

  ‘That makes sense, but… I mean, the map? Generally you follow the map, right? You don’t follow the map until you hit a snag then make a hole in the wall. Much less when you’ve got an entire city above you. You’re the one that said you wouldn’t trust a dark elf to design a sand castle, much less something as important as sewers!’ He threw down his half-smoked cigar in disgust, seamlessly replacing it with another from his pockets and lighting it with his torch.

  “Fine! Don’t listen to the dwarf that’s been in the city since before most of the inhabitants were a gleam in their daddy’s eyes! Come on then, let’s go your way, longleg! Don’t mind me, I’ll just be writin’ me damn ‘told ya so’ speech! Followin’ a damn map made by damn orcs…. orcs wouldn’t remember their damn heads if they weren’t attached to their blasted necks…” I wanted to apologize, but I had a feeling it would just make him angrier. Mug shrugged in bemusement and we set off again, following what I hoped would be the right path. Looking at the map, they probably just put the turn too soon. That made sense, didn’t it?

  The next hour of walking was mostly quiet except for Keggr’s angry stomps. I thought about asking him to tone it down, what on account of the possibility of trolls, but decided I had antagonized him enough today. However, it looked like I had been right. Once we got past our hiccup point, the map seemed to line back up again. I would buy him a pack of cigars once this was over. Heck, I’d buy him a whole crate. Well, he had gotten us into this mess, so maybe just two packs.

  We turned another gray corner, and I thought about speaking up to break the silence. Before the words could form, something hard and melon-sized exploded right above me, causing Mug to jump almost his entire height and Keggr to stop smoking for exactly two seconds. We froze as we scanned to understand what had happened when a deep, booming voice drifted out of the darkness in front of us.

  “Told ya, Belly. Told ya I smelled dwarf n’ orc. Dumdums fell for it, hahaha. Fell for da wall! Dumdums.” A second voice joined him in malicious yet stupid laughter.

  “Haha! Yeah. Dumdums. Hey, dumdums! Come here a lil! Gonna… give ya food. Haha. And drinks, yeah! Just step ova dis way!” Based on them smelling us coming and the lack of vocabulary, I assumed we had found our trolls. From my right, I heard Keggr’s voice, a quiet hiss of anger so thin I almost missed it:

  “I told ya so!”