The next day, they woke up fresh. Stretches, push-ups, and footwork drills till the sweat ran and the breath felt good. Then they went straight to the guild job board.
Plenty of postings. Escort east. Quarry skirmish. Ash pit retrieval. They picked the ugly one anyway:
City sewers cleanup: giant rats. Fifteen days. Kill at least seventy-five.
Pay: twenty silver total.
___________________________
"Disgusting, I wanna vomit now", Raul said.
" Bro, 20 silver is 20 silver," Arin answered.
They bought what sewer work needs: vinegar cloths for the nose, thick gloves, a short spear for Raul, a round shield for Arin, wire for snares, two nets, chalk, two boards for bridges, a small crowbar, and bait, fish guts and stale bread soaked in grape ale. The plan was simple and clean.
"We walk the route first and note the main pipe, the side channels, and the three sluice gates; the water runs west to the river. We mark safe paths with chalk arrows and use a double mark for exits. We drop bait at the narrow spots where the channels pinch and let the smell pull the packs. We set wire snares at the choke point and place nets behind them to catch runners." Raul started planning things out.
Arin nodded, "I'll make the noise with shield and boot, carry the bait bag, and drag them into the trap. You wait one step off the angle in the shadow, spear first, dagger second. If a swarm tries the side tunnel, we close the sluice and turn that tunnel into a dead end. We don't chase into the dark. If the water rises, we leave. Keep it clean. Keep it simple."
They went down in the afternoon. Stone steps are slick with moss. Air like rot punched with old soap. Water chuckling in a narrow throat. Chalk went on the walls.
They spotted their first nest, bones, hair, and chewed cloth. They baited it with guts, backed up, and waited. Everything was quiet except the water.
A pack showed fast, five, almost always five. Soldier rank giant rats are long, thick through the chest, teeth like chisels, sharpened on brick. They came in low, shoulders rolling, eyes bright where no light should live.
Arin banged the shield. "Come on," he said, steady. He took a step back, gave them throat, then another step, a little wider, to make room for Raul.
Two hit the wire, squealed, and tangled legs. Raul was already moving. Spear in, pull, dagger cut at the neck. He didn't fight them; he ended them. One rat jumped for Arin's thigh; he shoved the shield down and stepped through the hit, turning its body with the rim so teeth scraped steel and not bone. Arin finished it with his sword.
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Arin's vision flickered red at the edge:
Your subordinate killed a Soldier-rank giant rat. +1 Lord coin.
Your subordinate killed a Soldier-rank giant rat. +1 Lord coin.
Your subordinate killed a Soldier-rank giant rat. +1 Lord coin.
Your subordinate killed a Soldier-rank giant rat. +1 Lord coin.
Total Lord coins: 4
___________________________
Arin blinked and steadied his breathing. He finished the last rat himself, blade through spine, and waited.
Nothing.
No text. No coin.
He glanced at Raul. "Hold."
"When you kill," Arin said slowly, "I get something."
Raul frowned. "And when you do?"
"Nothing."
They stared at each other for a beat, water chuckling behind them.
Raul exhaled once. "Then I do the killing."
"Okay," Arin said immediately. "If it gets messy, I step in. Otherwise, it's yours."
Another pack came in. Same cut. Arin did the noise and the angle. Raul did the cleaning.
By midday, they had nine ears and two new chalk marks. Arin's screen flickered nine times.
"Okay," Arin said, breath steady. " Let's call it a day, I'm beat"
Raul grunted. "Fine by me."
Day two, three, four: they got into a rhythm. Bait. Wire. Bang the rim. Step the angle. Watch the water. Raul's spear took most throats. His dagger took the rest. Arin kept them where Raul wanted them to be.
Sometimes the sewer tried to cheat them. On day six, a sluice stuck open and the water rose to the boot tops. Two packs split, three went left, two right. Arin shut the left gate with the crowbar and turned the right into the funnel. Raul took eyes, then necks. Arin held the shield high and didn't let panic in.
Day eight, one rat got a bite on Arin's calf. Teeth drove through leather like it wasn't real. He swore, kicked hard, and rammed the shield rim into its face. Raul cut its spine and then wrapped Arin's leg tight with cloth and vinegar.
They killed in twos and fives. No counting out loud was necessary. Arin watched the screen tally when Raul finished a rat.
+1 Lord coin.
+1 Lord coin.
+1 Lord coin.
Fourteen days of this. Sewer stink in the hair. Vinegar under the tongue to cut the taste. Hands that knew the spear and shield better than they did last week. Ears drop into a sack, dark and ugly proof that makes clerks pay you without arguing. Arin felt stronger, not because the talent touched him, but because work does that if you let it.
On the fourteenth night, they sat on the steps and counted the lord coins on the screen. Seventy-seven. Raul's kills only.
Arin chewed stale bread and said, "We can't hit a hundred by tomorrow. We try anyway."
"Fightoo," Raul jested.
Tomorrow fought them. The water ran cold, and the rats hid deeper. The bait didn't pull as hard. They killed three. The screen ticked to eighty. Total ears: eighty-three. Arin had killed one on day one and two more when the moment needed him to, but those didn't pay into the tally.
"Unlucky day," Raul said. He didn't sound upset. He sounded like he'd already made peace with the number and moved on.
They climbed out with their sack and their stink and went straight to the guild. The clerk counted ears with two fingers, placed the bag aside, and slid twenty silver coins onto the counter.
"Done," he said.
They didn't celebrate. They slept hard, woke stiff, and picked up two more jobs the next day. A roadside carrion-worm cleanup west of the gate, three worms under a rotten cart, cut at the base of the neck, pull them out, burn them, and don't breathe the steam. Then, feral hounds near the ash pits, three packs of five, lean and hungry, eyes that don't blink fast enough. Raul's knife took them quickly. Arin kept them off him with the shield and a new short sword bought cheaply from Victor.
Every monster Raul killed ticked the red.
+1. +1. +3 for the bigger worm.
+1, +1, +1 for hounds.
The number crawled. Then it lifted. The screen said:
Lord coins: 100
"Hell yeah, baby," Arin said, honest and a little laughing. "Let's see what this upgrade thing is all about."
Raul leaned his shoulder against a rock, eyes still moving the way his eyes always moved. "We do it somewhere quiet," he said. "Not here, let's get some rest first"
"Yeah," Arin said. He bumped Raul's arm with the back of his hand. "Victor will want to see the hound teeth. He'll say something about balance weights."
"He will," Raul said. "We sell the scrap first. Then we roll."
They walked merchant's row with a job bag and a small sack of things, monster materials from the wolves and worms. They sold the stuff and went back to their room.
Back in their room, they set the coins they got from selling the scraps on the table and counted them for the habit of it. Arin washed his hands and wiped the shield rim down till steel looked like steel again. Raul poked the threadbare curtain and watched the street with the casual attention of someone who had slept in ditches too long to forget how.
"Eighty rats," Raul said, more to the room than to Arin. "Plus worms. Plus hounds."
Arin nodded. "We did it clean."
Raul's mouth tipped. "Mostly."
He pointed at the bandage on Arin's calf. Arin flipped him the finger, then grinned.
Night slid in without drama. The screen sat quietly behind Arin's eyes, red line and simple words waiting for the call. The city smelled like bread and iron. Their room smelled like sweat and vinegar and the kind of tired that feels earned.
"Let's go," Arin said.
"Let's go indeed," Raul echoed.