Sporemageddon

"Tradition has it that people leaving have the right of way," Phillipe said. "If you're coming from the deeper parts of the dungeon, then your work's done and you should be given safe passage out." ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ NoveIＦire.net

"But we're standing here on guard because... that's not true?" I asked.

"Sometimes people get greedy," Phillipe said. "Keep focused."

We continued to climb, but moved at a much slower pace until the people coming down appeared ahead of us. Six of them, all men, with a hodge-podge of armours and gear. Two at the rear had bigger packs on and less armour, so I guessed they were there for utility.

The other four were fighters; there was no doubt about that.

Phillipe nodded to the one in the lead, then he walked over towards them, surefooted and confident. Tyro and I hurried to keep up. I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep my head down or if I wanted to meet their curiosity with defiance.

"Hey," the one in the group's lead said. "What's it like down there?"

"Route to the fifth's entrance is cleared out, but none of the siderooms have been touched," Phillipe said.

"Tsk," the leader said. He touched something on his belt. Chains with leather straps on the end? "Well, nothing for it," he said. "How's the dungeon above?" Phillipe asked.

"Nearly cleared up," the man said. "Big push today."

"Oh?" Phillipe asked. He looked the man up and down. "Ah, I think I've crossed paths with you before. Goblin herder?"

The man nodded. "Eyup. Won't encounter much past here. Heading to the surface?"

"Yes."

"How far down you go?" the man asked.

Phillipe gestured behind him. "Brought the kids as low as I dared. Get them some good classes. You know how it is. Need to pass on the family traditions."

"Ey, I get that," the man said. He tugged his belt up. "Well, good on you."

"Likewise," Phillipe said.

And then we moved past each other and I let out a sigh once we were out of earshot. That had been... nerve wracking. "Goblin herders?" I asked.

"They herd goblins," Tyro said. "Did you notice their weapons?"

I frowned. "No?"

"Padded," the teenager said. "Big bundles of cloth around their swords, and they had catching poles too."

"Oh," I said. That made some sense. And if they were padded as opposed to just blunt imitations of normal weapons, then maybe the padding could be removed if things got hairy.

Phillipe hummed. "Dangerous work, that. You're a lot more likely to be stabbed grabbing a goblin to catch it than just killing it. They're feisty and I've known good men who were laid out by a nasty bite. Goblin mouths aren't clean."

I could imagine. Was bacteria something commonly understood? Probably not... but I imagined that you didn't need to understand that to know that any bite wound needed disinfecting, and strong alcohols were common enough.

Then again, there was a fair bit of machismo in the delver industry. It wouldn't surprise me to see some boneheaded moron eschewing medical attention only to lose a limb to infection.

"Will they be trouble?" I asked.

"No," Phillipe said. "But if they're looking for goblins today, then every floor will be filled with teams. I bet the one we just passed is trying to get to the fourth floor first to grab as many heads as possible. It's riskier to go lower for goblins, but there are fewer teams willing to go deeper for them, so the rewards can be higher."

"How much are they per head?" Tyro asked.

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"Eight pounds a head," Phillipe said.

I let out a low whistle. That was something. This entire trip cost me about eight goblins' worth, which actually put it into perspective. "Wait, no, that's... cheap?"

"Not every goblin will be useable," Phillipe said. "Maybe one in three. Those will be trained, then auctioned off. A company could pay up to thirty or forty pounds for a single trained goblin."

"That seems cheap," I said.

"They'll do half a man's work."

Which, I supposed, meant that it was all about long-term profits. A worker that was as poorly trained as a goblin wasn't worth much... but they would be worth something and the only upkeep cost would be guards and feed. If a company got six months out of a goblin, then they would probably make twice as much as they paid for the goblin upfront.

I was ballparking every figure as I did the math in my head, but it seemed to make sense. Slavery as a means of cost reduction. It made me feel a little less guilty about the kinds of things I wanted to do.

"What happens to the goblins that aren't useful?" I asked. Maybe there was something to do there. Arm them up then let them loose in the city, maybe.

"Feed," Phillipe said, and that was that.

We arrived on the third floor and I was glad that Phillipe took a moment to reorganise our gear. It gave me some time to relax and for the burn in my legs to fade. Only two more flights, I reminded myself.

Once I had my pack back from Tyro--who was still kind enough to take it from me between floors--we started to push through the dungeon again.

Almost immediately we encountered another team, this one clearly hot on the tail of the last. They only stopped long enough to ask how much of a lead their competition had before darting off after them.

The rest of the floor was similar, in a way. We encountered two more teams. One scouring the edges of the dungeon with a trio of goblins on leashes, and one much larger group near to the staircase leading up that had seventeen whipped and battered goblins hooked together with chains around their necks and thick leather mittens over their hands and feet.

One good thing I could say was that we didn't need to swim to get to the staircase room. The path was cleared already.

The only downside was less time between the long walks up to the next floor.

The second floor was significantly busier than the third. More people were comfortable with this one than the floors below, obviously, and while I bet there had been goblin hunting teams earlier, they'd now been replaced by gatherers taking everything not nailed down, and some things that were.

We had to wait as a group carried an entire tree through the dungeon's tight corridors. The tree had been cut just barely long enough to have enough clearance to slip through the tunnels and turn at every intersection.

Phillipe managed to get us ahead of the tree before they started to pull it up the stairs.

"I saw a tree like that drop down the stairs once," he said.

Tyro laughed.

"Three men died," his father said, cutting off the laughter. "It always puts a bit of worry in my gut, so I try not to be caught behind one of them when they're being carried up the stairs."

That was fair. Besides, even as tired as I was, I still moved faster than the gatherers tugging their tree along one step at a time.

And so we made it to the first floor. I started to see people my own age around, and the corridors were practically full of workers, gatherers, support staff, and even a trio of mages waiting impatiently next to what seemed like an empty room for what I imagined was practice time.

The first floor took longer to cross than the second, if only because the traffic was significantly worse.

But we made it through eventually, jostling between others until I found myself blinking at the bright sun above.

Walking out of the dungeon was like stepping out of a warm home in the dead of winter.

The mana was sucked out of the air, and I found it hard to breathe for a step or three until I caught myself.

Of course, the dungeon was taking mana in, as opposed to giving it out within its confines.

Phillipe led us to the very edge of the cleared space around the dungeon, then he turned to face me. It was time for our final chat, and then we'd be parting ways.

***