>>6266450The sun was already high when you and Sister Kaeli reached the arched stone bridge at the edge of Velvetia’s old quarter. A guard in mismatched mail armor stood waiting by a large iron grate sunk into the street. He looked tired — eyes red-rimmed, one gauntlet missing a strap — but he nodded at you with the practiced courtesy of someone who’d had to explain this a dozen times already.
“You the rat-killers, yeah?” he asked, more weary than skeptical.
You confirmed it. He grunted, then unrolled a battered oilcloth map and weighed it down with a chunk of brick so the breeze wouldn’t lift it.
The map showed a tangle of corridors, blocky chambers, and branching tunnels. Some parts were labeled in a shaky hand: “MARKET DRAIN,” “TAVERN WASTE,” “STOREROOMS,” and at least half a dozen other trash-chutes feeding into larger rooms.
The guard pointed at the lines of corridors.
“That’s where you’ll find the big rats. Running up and down, scurrying, biting ankles. But the rooms—” he tapped the big square chambers, “the rooms are where the swarms are. There’s always a bigger pile of refuse there, easy pickings, so they gather up, get bolder. They’ve even climbed out through drain holes. Had one gnawin’ on a baby last week.”*
Kaeli winced, crossing herself at the thought.
The guard continued, brow furrowed.
“Here’s your entry,” he said, stabbing a finger at a hatch marked in red near the river gate. “And here — if you get boxed in, run to this exit. That ladder goes to an old courtyard behind the leatherworkers’ street.”
You nodded, committing it to memory.
Then the guard’s finger moved again, this time to two heavy, bold X marks on the map.
“These two stairwells go down to the lower tunnels,” he said, voice suddenly hard as iron. “They’re barricaded. They must stay barricaded. You hear me? If you even so much as touch those barricades, you’ll stir the dead.”
His eyes were grim.
“The lower tunnels have… worse things than rats,” he finished, voice tight. “Stay up top, do your job, don’t be a hero. You so much as feel a cold wind down there, you back away.”
Kaeli swallowed, her mace tapping lightly against her leg.
“We understand,” you answered, steady.
The guard handed you a small token stamped with the city seal — proof for the mayor that you’d been officially authorized to hunt.
Then he took a ring of keys, unlocked the great iron grate, and with a hollow groan of hinges, swung it wide.
“Best of luck,” he sighed, stepping back. “The rats’ll hear you before you see them. May the gods watch you.”
The dark tunnel yawned before you, damp air rolling up from the depths with a stink of rot and stagnant water. Somewhere far below, you thought you heard faint squeaking — or was it something worse?
Either way, there was no turning back.
You stepped into the dark.
