D&D Way to Sword Coast

Chapter 19: Laugh

A swarm of mutated beetles and a pack of disfigured wererats later and Alidorim was trudging back to the Inn. He reeked so highly of ammonia and waste that the guild secretary had pinched her nose the entire time he'd given his report. It was a close call but the Dragonborn was positive he found a place he hated more than swamps.

Every metropolitan area had to have sewers to channel rain and sewage out of the city. In cities where a certain percentage were magic users, residual spells and potions seeped in causing mutations in the local ecology. Gone unchecked these beasts would swarm the surface and attack civilians and damage infrastructure.

As clearing the sewers was an ongoing task, Alidorim and other adventurers were presented payment based on time spent below and how many monsters slain. If he hadn't promised Yulia he'd be back before sunrise he'd have ground away until the following night.

"At least it pays reasonably," he thought. The one upside of belonging to a guild he wouldn't be cheated out of a reward. He made a point of dousing himself with several buckets of water, but it did little to elevate the stench. A fact that was made apparent by the Inn's owner.

"I'll have some fresh water and soap sent up," he said in as disapproving tone as he could manage through a covered mouth. Too tired to feel annoyed Alidorim nodded and proceeded to his room. As much as he would prefer to sleep, rest would allude him so long as the stench of Neverwinter's sewers lingered.

Alidorim entered the room and had already begun undoing his armor when he became aware of another presence. "M-m-master...?" Lesmythe was awake and sitting next to the bed.

Despite his surprise at just now noticing her Alidorim managed to keep his composure.

Clearing his throat, the Dragonborn finished removing his armor before checking on Yulia. The Tiefling was still sleeping in the office, wrapped up in his cloak and wool blanket. Content no harm had come to her he returned to the bedroom to find the half-elf waiting. Her shock at his arrival had been replaced by the fear that seemed to bubble beneath the surface.

"You're up early," he grumbled. Modesty having gone the way of the giants, Alidorim went ahead and shrugged off his tunic.

"I-I don't sleep well, m-master," Lesmythe blubbered what little poise she had evaporated with each word. "Th-the slave tent...It was difficult to tell time..." her voice trailed off as she took in his torso. Just like with Adabra he could feel her eyes trace every one of his scars. The scrutiny would've made him feel self-conscious, but after the night he'd had he truly didn't care.

Despite his weariness, Alidorim grasped her explanation. Having been in captivity for so long her body had lost all sense of time. It didn't know when to sleep, or when to be awake. He would've offered some of Yulia's sleeping draft, but the supply was already dwindling.

There was a knock on the door and Lesmythe answered it. The Innkeeper presented her with the bucket of well water and bar of lye soap. Lesmythe mumbled her thanks, keeping her gaze down. The man eyed the woman up and down, sneering a bit before leaving. It didn't take a genius to know what ill thoughts ran through the human's mind. Alidorim had to wonder if the slave worried about the same. According to the slaver, her last owner had subjected her to all manner of abuse.

Feeling his stomach clench uncomfortably he thought, "Does she expect the same treatment from me?" The way she avoided his gaze and recoiled at his touch was answer enough.

At a gesture, she set the basin and rag next to him. He began rubbing down his arms making sure to apply liberal amounts of soap. He caught Lesmythe staring again and he cleared his throat. Mumbling an apology, she averted her eyes. "Lesmythe." Turning she kept her gaze down. Alidorim noticed elf ears turned pink when they were flustered. Sighing he said, "Get some sleep."