"So the entrance to the sewer should be by this statue?" he grumbled to himself—but she overheard each word.
"Hm. It should be nearby," she said, shutting her eyes.
"Okay, let's go take a peek."
He looked around, eyes scurrying about for a glimpse of what would pass as an entrance. Just as he was ready to admit defeat—possibly even make a joke about forgetting his specs—he saw something: a trickle of muddy water running into the river.
"There," he whispered, moving towards it with her still clinging to his back.
She peered through half-closed eyes, then looked at the area, before letting them fall shut again.
"Careful," she whispered. "Don't go right in. There could be guards."
"Guards? In a sewer?" he lifted an eyebrow.
Asthia didn't respond. She was savoring the quiet.
As they approached, the pungent smell hit her. Her eyes snapped open, face contorting in distaste.
He sniffed it too. Sighing, he knelt—still supporting her—and used the sword to cut a strip of cloth from his shirt. She remained motionless on his back, observing with polite interest.
He offered her the cloth.
Her face, above his shoulder, was furrowed.
He looked back at her with a small smile.
"Princess, it's for your nose. Can't have the royal commander breathing in sewer stink."
She covered it slowly, still a bit in shock, then nodded faintly and tied it over her nose and mouth.
"Thanks," she grumbled into the cloth. "That's. considerate."
"Considerate's the least I can do when I'm carrying royalty on my back," he returned with a grin, straightening. "You weigh more than you look."
"Watch yourself," she said with a lifted brow. "I'm your master."
"A light and graceful one, of course," he added quickly, grinning.
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
They edged closer to the riverbank. The stone there was cracked and damp. A dark tunnel mouth peeked out from behind a mess of vines and broken brick.
"There it is," he said, adjusting her weight slightly.
Asthia's eyes opened fully, her demeanor sharpening.
"Appears old. Could've been abandoned. But tunnels tend to go in a straight line under city walls."
"Then I'd say we were lucky," he replied.
"If lucky equals rats, stinking water, and unexplained puddles."
"Exactly. Who wouldn't term that lucky?"
She snorted over the cloth and gestured forward.
"Look at the ledge? That's how we get in. Watch it—it's slick.
"Slipping would be dramatic," he said, stepping gingerly onto the slim ledge beside the sewer opening. Moss and grime greased the stone, but he went slowly, balancing.
The tunnel lay before them—dark, damp, and resonating with the faint sound of dripping water.
Asthia shifted on his back.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said hesitantly. "Just. thinking."
"About?"
"How utterly foolish this plan is." she said bluntly.
"You're the one who made it."
"Exactly."
He chuckled quietly.
"Well then, let's make it work. Royal plans deserve royal results."
And with that, they stepped into the tunnel. The light from outside faded behind them.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
As they went deeper, the air shifted. The quiet sounded hollow. Shadows grew thick. The smell of mildew, decay, and old, stagnant water pushed against them.
There was only the squelching of Reth's boots and the occasional drip in the quiet. He took slow steps, intent on keeping his balance with Asthia still on his shoulders.
The tunnel descended, then opened up into a broader passage—arched stone walls wet with moss and slime.
"We're officially in the Redhill underbelly," he grumbled, looking around.
Asthia edged a little. "Feels smaller than I remember."
"You've been here before?"
"Once. Training exercise. Got lost for three hours and almost stabbed a rat the size of a dog."
Reth blinked. "…You're joking, right?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
Pauses briefly.
"Well… good thing I brought the sword."
They pressed on, further into the darkness. Reth's system emitted soft pings—[Threat Perception] warning him of minute motion in the distance. Likely rats. Hopefully only rats.
They walked beneath a half-collapsed archway. Dim light filtered down through a rusted grate above, casting thin beams across the tunnel. A slow current of foul water drifted in a shallow channel alongside them.
"Put me down," Asthia whispered.
"You sure?
"It's bruised, not shattered. I'll manage."
He went down on one knee, allowing her to slide to the ground. She flinched as her boots landed on the stone, but she stood upright, bracing herself against the wall.
Neither said a word for a moment.
Then they began moving side by side. Asthia limped on her right foot but didn't allow herself to do so.
Reth looked down the tunnel. "You know. for all that rat chatter, it's strangely quiet."
Asthia nodded, brow furrowed. "Too quiet. No squeaks. No skittering. Unnatural."
"Too clean," he whispered.
She gazed at him. "You mean too empty."
"Precisely."
They continued on. The stillness grew heavier with every step. No rats. No insects. Just rock, mold, and musty air. The kind of silence that didn't feel right.
As they turned a corner, Reth suddenly stopped.
"Hold up."
Asthia stiffened. "What?"
He nodded toward it. "There—at the junction."
Ahead of them, where the tunnel divided into two parts, a figure huddled close to the wall. Human. Motionless. Just visible beneath the dim, reddish light dripping down from a grate above.
Asthia narrowed his eyes. "Is that… a person?"
The figure didn't stir. Its back to them, bent forward at an unnatural angle, as if it was peering over something.
"Hey," Reth called gently. "You alright?"
No answer.
They moved closer, boots making little sound on the moist stone. With each step, the smell intensified—stronger than the sewer. It wasn't rot.
It was blood.
Asthia shielded her nose once more.
When they were merely a step or two away, the figure moved.
A ripping, wet noise reverberated through the tunnel.
Then the crunch—bone on teeth.
While the tunnel was dark, the feeble light above sent sufficient glow to show a shadowy form.
It appeared human.
But wasn't.