Zaena tilts her head and wrinkles her forehead. “Wait, is it triple bacon on a burger or triple burger with bacon?”
FeeTwix’s eyes turn blue again. “No idea, honey. Just doing my job.”
Chapter 28: Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service
Dark clouds pass in front of a yellow moon; a breeze draws a meditative melody from a single wind chime on the balcony of a two-story guildhall. A dog barks somewhere in the distance, the clip-clop of a horse and carriage echoes down the street.
Ryuk and Zaena are clad in the leather tunic and thick-soled, knee high boots of the Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service. Zaena stops, examines the rooftops, and waits for the breeze to subside. Ryuk is also on high-alert: his Extreme Focus skill narrows his pane of vision and Magic Eye adds soft hues to everything he focuses on.
The Thulean assassin stops in front of a two-story guildhall whose property abuts the alley behind the Shinigami. It’s separated from the street by a small iron fence, which squeaks as she uses her ghost limb to open it. After a sidelong glance at Ryuk, she enters and he follows behind her. The two walk down a pathway of large trapezoidal stepping stones that is bordered with tall cylindrical shrubs.
At the front door, Zaena smooths the front of her borrowed uniform and knocks with her ghost limb.
An old man’s voice rings out, “Who is it?”
“Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service,” Ryuk says. He clears his throat and tries again, in a deeper, more confident voice. “Aramis Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service.”
“Solid Waste Management and Abatement Service?”
With a rattle of chains and clicking of deadbolts, the door swings inward to reveal an older PC. He sports the de rigueur cleric look – long robes of an indeterminate color, flowing white beard, bushy eyebrows and a pointy wizard’s hat, complete with stars and moons and hex symbols. His stats appear above his head as he peers at the two, his untrimmed brows rise toward the brim of his hat.
Dark Healer Level 17
HP: 431/431
MANA: 342/342
ATK: 29
MATK: 146
DEF: 48
MDF: 74
LUCK: 11
“You sure have picked a strange hour to visit. Isn’t it late for public service minions to be out and about?”
Minions?
“We’re, um, running behind schedule today because of, um, some things that happened in Bar Row,” Zaena tells him. “There was a big brawl, lots of damage and debris and we’re still trying to get a handle on it.”
“It was goblins,” Ryuk chimes in.
“Fucking goblins. Wait, did you say Bar Row? No one else from my guild mentioned it. They’re there now,” his visage darkens, “pissing away all the rupees we earned through a side quest on the outskirts of Shiya. Dumbasses. Okay, well, the stuff is out back. I’d open the side gate, but I’m afraid it is overgrown with vines at the moment! Please, come in, and let me make you some tea while you are here.”
Ryuk bows his head. “We are in a bit of a hurry to catch up and finish for the night.”
The old man cackles. “Nonsense! No one is in a hurry, commoner or NPC alike,” he says with a nod toward Zaena.
The door swings wide open and he motions for them to follow him. As he walks with his hands clasped behind his back, he muses on some of his travels through Tritania. “I’m only at level seventeen, but I’ve encountered plenty of Thuleans in Polynya. Never seen one as a sanitation worker, though!”
“We exist,” Zaena tells him. “If you visit Athos or any of its surrounding boroughs, you’ll find that all the workers are Thulean. The local government just started, um, a diversity and inclusiveness in the workplace initiative that sends us to other locations.” She shoots Ryuk a quick thumbs up. “At first, I thought it was just trendy feel good bullshit, but it comes with room, board, and a week of paid travel in Hyperborea so I decided to give it a try.”
Not a bad story. Ryuk quickly formulates one of his own, just in case.
“Makes sense,” says the old cleric as they take a few steps down into a wide, open den with a bar on one side. “Please sit.” He motions to a long table with eight wooden placemats and grins. “Anywhere is fine; this will only be a moment. And you?” he asks Ryuk as he sets a copper kettle on an iron stove. “Why on the Empress’ three floating continents would a PC take this role?”
“I thought it’d be interesting.” Ryuk feels Zaena tap him on the back of the head with her ghost limb. “Plus, there are some sewer monsters that dish out some serious EXP.”
“What about you?” Zaena asks as he adds various leaves, twigs, and herbs to the kettle. “Why didn’t you go with your guildmates?”
“I’m not one of these that’s anxious to drink myself into a stupor or consort with NPCs of easy virtue and wind up with psoriasis of the lizard and gob-crabs the size of your thumb, thank-you very much. I prefer to save my rupees and devote my energy to other pursuits.”
He brings the kettle back behind the counter and pours out two cups of his strange brew. “There you go, my friends – drink up. You’ll find this most soothing.”
“Won’t you be having one?” Zaena asks the old cleric as she takes the decoction from him.
“In a moment; I always make sure my guests are served first!”
Ryuk lifts the tea to his lips and stops. He glances from the cup to the old man. The old man looks away immediately, and returns to the small prep station behind the bar.
Something isn’t right.
Zaena sips her drink, smiles in pleased surprise and slams it down her neck in three big gulps. “This is a most excellent brew!” She cuts her orange gaze from Ryuk to their host.
“I’m so pleased you find it to your taste. It’s my own special blend. Have another, I insist!” The old cleric hobbles back over to her and dispenses another cup.
“This is just wonderful.” She giggles as she takes another sip and sighs with satisfaction and enjoyment. Where she’d been tense and alert, she’s now loosened up considerably and is propping herself up against the bar.
“Please, do drink up,” the old man tells Ryuk.
“It’s just a little too hot for me just yet. Please give me a minute.”
“More for me!” Zaena announces. “This stuff is fabulous! You have to try some Ryuk, have to.” She burps and slams her empty cup down on the table. “More!”
“Easy, my Thulean friend, easy,” the cleric laughs, “save some for me!” He produces a cup from behind the bar and takes a sip from it. “You’re quite correct, this is most excellent if I do say so myself! Hold on, I’ll get you some more.”
A tendril of yellow magic curls off the top of the hot liquid. I knew it! Ryuk draws his marble gun, points it at the cleric, and stands. “The antidote,” he tells the old man. “NOW.”
“Ryuk!” Zaena slurs. “What are you doing?”
“Hands where I can see them,” Ryuk tells him.
The cleric cocks his head ever so slightly. “Is that a gun?”
Ryuk answers with a knife marble, which pegs the old man in the shoulder and causes him to drop his cup.
-59 HP!
The cleric seethes as he presses his hand into the wound on his shoulder. “No one attacks me in my own guildhall, you arrogant fool!”