Milc/C.J. Milnes
patreon
Chapter 37 - Bad sewerage
🕑 Added 2025-06-26 16:40:12 +0000 UTCOn Tex’s advice, I had put away my fancy suit and was once again wearing a simple tunic and trousers. The creak and groan as the wagon rumbled along the wide, paved street towards the Greatest City In The World (™) was lost in the cacophony caused by about a thousand similar vehicles doing exactly the same thing.
“Bet y’all thought getting stuck in traffic was a thing of the past? Well, welcome to Ankmapak, possibly the greatest city on Helstat, home away from home!” Tex declared happily. It was like the closer he got to the commercial hub of the empire, the happier he got. I was kind of feeling the same thing. Despite the foul smell that permeated the area I could practically taste the gold in the air, in addition to Tex’s new oxen, who smelled just as delicious as his previous ones.
“We’re heading straight to the armaments guild?” I asked as I hungrily eyed the ambulatory steaks pulling his wagon.
“Would you please stop eating the cattle with your eyes? It looks weird, and we’re going to have to pass through the checkpoint soon. Just let me do the talking.”
Tex nodded amiably to a man on a horse who was passing down the middle of the rows of carts. He wore rusty chainmail and had a helmet that was more like a saucepan than anything I’d have recognised from Earth as armour. The rider scowled at us before looking over the wagon and riding on.
I’d seen the city from the air, at a sensible distance due to the auto-targeting ballista perched along the walls, which were now creeping closer to loom over us. From above, it stretched for miles and miles, grey and red tiled roofs interspersed with thatch on two or three-storey buildings. The air had looked thick with smoke, or it might have been a fog rolling in from the sea to the south.
From above, the river had noticeably changed colour as it passed through Ankmapak. A stunning blue-green colour to the north, and a murky grey-brown after it had passed through the city and the bowels of the citizens. As the city grew closer, I began to appreciate why. My tongue flicked out, and the unsavoury taste in the air had grown steadily stronger. I assumed it was what a million people crammed into a half a dozen square miles smelled like. The promise of all the profit to be made was all that kept me heading into this metropolitan nightmare.
After an interminable period of staring at delicious ox ass, we got to the checkpoint. More burly-looking men whose taste in headwear leaned towards the culinary were inspecting the wagons. They would jump into the back, open barrels, and split sacks of grain open to check the contents. Customs and revenue. And we were carting a few goods that would generate way too much interest, and not the compound kind that I liked.
“Tex. The Arkendrite isn’t going to be a problem?” I regretted not putting all our goods into my belly pouch and just walking in.
“Shouldn’t be.” I glanced at him as he held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, then nodded contentedly to himself. “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he concluded.
I didn’t share his confidence. I had another hundred kilograms of the stuff in my pouch, so I was hoping for a cool million in loot, but if any hint of where the metal came from got out to certain parties, I would be in trouble. I glared at Tex, who ignored me, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
“Officer Nubbs! A pleasure to see you as always when the light shines brightly!” Tex called out as one of the customs men approached us.
Nubbs was short and bandy-legged; he moved with an oddly efficient waddling gait that let him cover the distance quickly. Tex hopped down and held out a hand. What followed was the most bizarre form of a fist-bump crossed with a handshake I’d ever seen. Nubbs glanced about conspiratorially, checking how many people were in earshot.
“Brother Glowing-wagon. The light shines on such a wonderful day. A pleasure as always,” said Nubbs. It didn’t sound like it was a pleasure. The man’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard blended with a donkey being quietly chainsawed in half. It grated, to say the least. “Who’s this then?”
“Brother Light-scale is a new friend.” Tex waggled his eyebrows at the man. “He’s a business partner of mine.” Nubbs looked me up and down like a piece of meat.
“Muscle?” he asked. “Bit strong to be working as a wagon hand for the likes of you.”
“A partner. I’m setting up a business in the north, and brother Glowing-wagon is going to put me in touch with some craftsmen to get a few items made for it. A pleasure, Brother?” I did not extend my hand. The finger-dance handshake was completely beyond me.
“I’m Brother Shining-bottom, a pleasure, Brother Light-scale.” He dismissed me from his thoughts and swung his head back to Tex. “You’re staying at the Long Horn?”
“As ever. Brightest hostelry in the city! Are we good?”
“Give me a hand up. Gotta make it look like I did a proper job in case the bosses are watching.”
Tex formed a stirrup with his hands, and Nubbs used it as a stepping stone to climb onto the cart. He poked around while carefully not looking at anything for a minute or two. He and Tex made small talk while I watched the little man like a hawk.
“Everything seems to be in order here!” he declared far more loudly than was necessary. He pulled out a pad of paper and pencil, scribbled some lines on it, and tore the sheet off to pass it to Tex. “Go in the light.” His ugly face split into a broad, gap-toothed smile as he hopped back to the ground and, without further ado, made his way to the wagon behind us. One of the horses pulling the wagon tried to eat the edge of the short cloak that hung loosely on his left shoulder, and he swatted it away, earning a neigh of disapproval.
When we arrived at the entrance to the city Tex passed the slip Nubbs had given him to the guard on the gates, and we vanished into the gloom. The walls and buildings blocked out the sun, locking everyone at street level into perpetual shade. The air was thick with smog, smoke from thousands of fires mingling with the damp air blowing in from the estuary to the south, leaving the city shrouded in a misty darkness. No wonder Bulb was worshipped so much; these poor bastards hardly ever saw the sun.
Tex threaded us through the narrow street. The medieval architecture was covered in dirt and grime everywhere I looked. I felt like if I ran a finger along any nearby surface to test exactly how much muck there was, the digit would dissolve in acrid filth.
“Smell that?” Tex asked. I sniffed for show, and my tongue flicked out to taste the air.
“It smells like thousands of people who need better sewers?”
“Nah! That smells like gold, partner. Piles and piles of gold!”
“When are we going to sell you-know-what?” I wanted it off our hands and the gold in my belly pouch as soon as possible.
“Let’s get to the Horn and get settled in. Maybe a bath, a rubdown from Tabitha, and a hot meal. Then you can fret about your prize.” Tex pulled back on the reins as a well-dressed man on a white horse cantered down the street, everyone making way for him. The dude didn’t even look at us, or the grubby peasants going about their days. He just sailed straight through without a care in the world.
It took over an hour, winding from street to narrow street, until Tex pulled into an inn’s courtyard. I saw the sun for the first time since we entered the gates, and I blinked owlishly as my eyes adjusted.
“Seb! Where the hell are you boy?” yelled Tex loudly. From the stables to our left there were a series of crashes and some professional-tier swearing. A young boy, maybe nine years old, emerged rubbing at his head, scruffy blond hair scattering hay as his hand passed through it.
“Tex. Been a while, mate. How was the road?” the boy asked as he scratched his backside and spat to one side.
“Not bad, Seb. Can you get a message to Phillpot? Got some system-spawned gear to offer him.”
“Spawned loot? Who’s the other bloke? Looks like a noob. All gormless and touristy. Where’d you find this wanker?” the boy demanded.
“Should he be talking like that? Especially to customers?” I asked Tex as I hopped down and glared at the foul-mouthed child.
“Oh, so sorry, sir. I am but a lowly child who don’t know any better. Seriously Tex, who’s the douchebag?” The boy raised his hands in mock apology before glaring at my pet merchant.
“He’s one of us, Seb. Only arrived a few months ago.” The boy looked me up and down with a hint of envy.
“Didn’t even have to go through fucking puberty again. Or relearn bladder control. You got really bloody lucky, mate. Alright, Tex. I’ll run your messages for ya. Your usual room’s free. I’ll let the boss know your mate needs a bed as well. You’ll be in the common room?” Tex nodded in reply. “I’ll get them passed to you there. Grab a beer and wash the dust out of your cracks. And you, I’ll be watching you. If you’re one of those villains, or worse a wannabe hero, I’ll kick your ass, you prick. OK?”
I opened and closed my mouth a few times in shock. The foul-mouthed brat carried himself like a man, and his vocabulary was worse than that of a drunken sailor. The juxtaposition of scruffy youth and angry old man was jarring.
“What are you gawping at, you gormless wazzock? Tex, get the fresh meat out of my sight. I’ve got half a bottle of Hazybrew to get back to once I’ve spoken to that thieving bastard Phillpot for you.”
Seb took the oxen by their halters and clicked his tongue as he led the wagon towards the stable.
“Tex, the thing is in the wagon!” I hissed muggin furiously that I wasn’t impressed half a million gold in ore was being left in the care of a walking urban dictionary of filth.
“Seb won’t touch it. He’ll unhitch the girls and feed them. He doesn’t mess with other Outremonde’s stuff. Let’s grab a beer and get our keys. Then it’s onto Phillpot’s Pecuniary Palace of Pap.” Tex held the door to the bar open for me and gestured for me to go first.
A cloud of smoke hit me as I opened the inner door and was let into what I can only compare to an opium den from back home. Men and women in scruffy peasant garb leant back on cushions along the walls, puffing on long pipes and drinking frothy beer from pewter tankards. The conversation dropped as I entered, and more than a few scowled at me, but as Tex shoved me forward and took a deep breath of the rancid air with a broad smile, they all returned to their own conversations.
Tex grabbed my arm and dragged me past the tables. The patrons were a mishmash of peasants, well-dressed men and women, and armoured soldiers. The conversations quieted as we passed people, but Tex nodded amicably to folks he knew, drawling out a “howdy” or “sup dude” to half a dozen people before we reached the bar.
The long counter was polished to within an inch of its life, the cleanest thing I’d seen since Baginton. A brass bell sat waiting for us, and Tex hammered it with his fist three times in a row. He grinned at me and rubbed his hands together. I appreciated his avarice, and I assumed this place would be cheap to rent a room, judging from the roughness of the clientele.
“Tex! Welcome back! Seb said to give you these,” the barman came out from the backroom and tossed a pair of keys on rectangular wooden fobs to him. “Now, what would you gentlemen like to drink?”
“Thanks, Beville. Two pints of Hogpiss please. How’s tricks, partner?”
“Excuse me, do you have a brother who tends bar in Baginton?” I interrupted.
“Of course! All the best bars from here to Edgtonburgh are run by a De Sacklick. How was cousin Neville doing?”
