“Welcome, patron!” a cheery voice exclaims as they sneak up on me, causing me to jump off of the chair. “No worries, friend. All are welcome here.”
Circling around and out of the shadows, the loud voice transforms into a hand slamming down a mug of clear water on the table right in front of me. What sort of strange assault is this?
“Are you looking to eat? Or just drinking your worries away for the evening?” the big one seamlessly continues their speech, replacing the ambiguous voice with energetic eyes and a giant, eery grin.
Confused by the random questions, I decide to encouragingly nod my head. In the past, this has proven to be a useful gesture for getting the big ones to stop paying any attention to me. I’m not entirely sure why, but sticking to what works is for the best given their bizarre and unpredictable social behaviors.
“Standard fare is 20 copper, up front,” the grinner amiably demands, a tenseness hiding a thin layer beneath his face. “Sorry, but we’ve had some problems with forsaken getting through and dashing on us. This is Tranas after all.”
He also requires tribute like the porters? For quietly sitting here? Madness. Unlike the villages, the town constantly demands tribute nearly everywhere I go. It’s so annoying. I know that they’re all bigger and stronger than me. Those are the rules. However, can’t there be a moment’s peace anywhere outside of my library?
Digging out a coin pouch, I awkwardly transfer coins over to another empty pouch until appraisal reads the correct amount, and then toss it to the grinner.
“Thanks!” he emphatically shouts over the noise, visibly relieved. “It’ll be right out, sit tight.”
Hopefully that’s the end of this disgrace. Unless he requires me to keep paying again after some length of time expires? How dreadful that would be. The goblins back home are so much freer. They did whatever they wanted, no tribute necessary. There’s free meat, entertainment, and camaraderie. If it weren’t for being trapped here, then I’d go back in an instant. Maybe my brothers would also know how to stop my deterioration? Why wouldn’t they? They must have to deal with it too, after all.
Regardless, here and now must be my current concern. Can’t waste my time uselessly dreaming. Choosing a nearby table, I begin actively trying to channel energy to my ears. It takes a few minutes of trial and error, but eventually I’m able to roughly work it out.
Good. Now transform it into bodily energy and then amplify the whispers. Piece of cake.
“GOOD TAKE THAT ALWAYS DUNGEON HAPPY
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Ugh, the entire room’s ruckus uniformly magnifies itself inside my head all at once, ringing it hard like a bell. This is much harder than I thought. It’s the broad aspect of the ear, after all, and not like the fine control I’ve gained over my eyes. Maybe if I carefully shape it with my hand…
After a few more minutes of experimenting, I’m able to barely raise my target table’s conversation over everything else. It’s not easy or comfortable, but it’s the best I can do until fully mastering the ear. The first table’s conversations are boring, so I move to another. Then another. And another. Finally, I catch something interesting.
“You hear the thing about Lord Thomas? He’s still really, really pissed,” one of the whispers starts to gossip.
Oh? Something about the town lord. This should be worth hearing.
“Still? It’s been so long, you’d think he’d have moved on by now,” another whisperer enjoins.
“Nah, that Starna spy must have found something important.”
“Important enough to be flagrantly wasting coin and influence on a wild chase six months after the fact? Ludicrous. Fool should focus on the ladder and forget his short term losses, like the rest of us.”
Oh no.
“Not our place to say, I’m afraid. Our esteemed lord probably knows something that we don’t. Apparently, he had hunters combing over the sewers. Got it from one of them that there’s some kind of a fresh lead.”
Oh no.
“Must have paid a pretty penny getting skilled climbers to spend any amount of time down in that awful place,” the whisperer rasps, cringing at the thought. “Did they find anything?”
“She wouldn’t say. Contract terms. Only that they got paid.”
Oh no.
“Hope it’s worth it. Thomas wastes enough time trying to recreate this silly fair and just Earth style society here. That’s all good and nice over there, but this place is so different. Here, all that matters is that he man the walls when called to defend against those blasted goblins.”
“I hear that. Could you imagine if we lost Tranas because the fool personally went all the way to Starna over some petty conflict?” the whisperer concludes with a shake of his head before moving on to another topic.
This spy, was it the ears? Six months ago and in the sewers. It’s far too much of a coincidence. Does that mean that Thomas also knows of the library? Standing up, I feel a deep need to leave. To do something. I must protect the library at all costs. It’s too important!
“Whoa, friend,” the grinner yells over the crowd, ambushing me from behind again with his arms full. “Where you going? The show’s about to start.”
Balking at the sudden show of attention, I obediently sit back down. The grinner places an array of steaming plates down in front of me on the table. The smell is absolutely wretched. Two of the plates hold piles of meat, excessively burned for no reason. Worse, they’re slathered in some kind of disgusting, bright slime, and not the good kind. Why do this to perfectly good flesh? I don’t even know what the rest of these are. Why did this big one leave these here? Did I do something wrong? Is he insulting me? Was the tribute not enough?
“I’ll be back in a bit to check on you, but be patient since the performance can be loud. Enjoy the meal!”
Wait, does he expect me to eat this slop? Looking around, I find a few nearby tables that are also covered with similar plates. The big ones there are shoveling the garbage into their mouths with both their hands and metal tools. They seem happy, but I can’t bring myself to get past the terrible smell.
Will the grinner keep coming back if I try to leave? Am I required to stay for a minimum time? What pointless trouble. I wish they’d communicate their expectations more clearly!
Before I can attempt to sneak out again, an outlandishly enormous figure at the center of the room raises his hands high to demand attention. The crowd hushes.