Chapter 42. Files and Cats
Rhys drew up to Aquari’s mansion. It stood over him, the entryway’s pillars soaring high over his head. Everything about it was designed to make him feel small. Not that he minded. He was a small lump of trash, best ignored until he wanted someone’s attention. He tried the door.
Locked. A tinge of mana in the handle warned him against trying to break it open.
Rhys scowled. “No good, huh?”
Az reached out a paw from his arms and smacked the handle. A lock clicked, and the door swung open on its own.
“Well, isn’t that convenient,” Rhys muttered. He shrugged, looking at the potion in his robes. He could have dripped a few drops of that on the lock to melt it. If purpose-built potion bottles meant to contain the most virulent of poisons didn’t work, no ordinary metal lock would hold up to it. If it did, he’d just steal the metal to make a second bottle, not that he considered such a scenario very likely. But it was better if he didn’t have to destroy the lock, so he didn’t protest Az’s help. He’d been given permission to gather the trash, not destroy the Schoolmaster’s property.
He gave a slightly guilty look at the lock as he passed. The door was locked, a clear indication she didn’t want help, but she clearly needed help.
The second he stepped past the door, all his hesitation went out the window. The smell slammed him first, an absolute wall of stench. There was no describing it, so Rhys didn’t try. His eyes watered, and his nose ran. He found himself desperately wishing for his pre-mage senses, because experiencing this stench with a mage’s nose was absolute hell. How does Aquari do it? She had to be used to the smell to the point she couldn’t smell it anymore, because as strong as her senses had to be, he couldn’t imagine putting up with this reek for ten seconds, let alone living in it.
In his arms, Az turned away. His ears went flat, and he pressed his muzzle against Rhys’ robes, using them as a makeshift mask. Rhys, too, lifted his robe to cover his nose. It didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing.
Trash piled high in the hallways. It completely filled the floor and piled up to shoulder height. Not just papers and relatively ‘clean’ trash, but everything. Half-eaten food. Rotting plants. A small dead animal that Rhys was pretty sure had been a rat at one point, though it wasn’t anything any longer. Just a puddle of brownish liquid, fur, and mold. Broken items so far gone Rhys couldn’t even identify what they might have been littered the floor and stuck out of the piles at random. He wanted to take his time and go through her trash, collect everything of value that he could either restore and sell or use Trash Intent on in battle… but now wasn’t the time. First, he’d read up on the incoming teacher. Then, once he was done, he could prattle about and do all the bonus things he also wanted to do.
Slipping and sliding, Rhys struggled over the trash. Az left his arms and perched on his shoulder instead, opening Rhys to use his hands. He scrambled around on his hands and feet, barely making forward progress.
As he walked, he paid close attention to how he placed his feet on successful steps forward. Slowly, he went from having to scramble on all fours, his hands touching unsavory items of unknown providence, to moving on three limbs, to only touching the ground occasionally, until at last, he could slip and slide with enough confidence to press forward on two limbs.
Trash Step 1