2.17 Patrol

The news spread through the city like wildfire. Bernt led the group back down toward the Undercity, leaving the mostly full cart parked at the side of the street for later. The incinerator was located outside the walls anyway, and it was safe to assume that the gates would be locked down for a while at least.

Besides, this was an emergency.

As they passed through the Lower District and into the Crafter’s District, lines were beginning to form at shops. More and more people hurried along the street carrying sacks of food, jugs of oil and dried meat. One, Bernt guessed it must be a carpenter, passed by hauling a bizarrely large box of nails.

The city had been through a lot over the past few months with two kobold incursions, including one that had spilled out into the streets and gotten more than a few civilians and guards killed. But those attacks had been sudden, and they’d been over and dealt with in a matter of hours, at least as far as the public was concerned. While the Duergar weren’t a secret, they were out of sight and mostly out of mind, just as the dragon before them had been. A problem for the military or the Adventurers’ Guild to worry about, down in the Depths where no right-minded person would go anyhow.

Now, though, the situation had changed. The enemy was moving out onto the surface, cutting the roads. Sure, the river was still open, but it wouldn’t be enough. A city needed a lot of supplies, and Halfbridge depended on more than just river trade to keep its people fed and its industries running. There was another major road that led northward from the city toward Loamfurth, but Bernt doubted it would be in better condition than the southern highway.

By the time they reached the Undercity Gate, uniformed soldiers were streaming in and out, heading between the castle and their own positions in the tunnels. Some were clearly messengers, but there were also a few short columns of fifty or so soldiers that streamed by, out into the city. Most likely, they were going to reinforce the guards on the walls.

The Undercity seemed calm compared to the surface. The market area wasn’t overrun, though it was pretty lively for a place that had been practically uninhabited a week earlier, and people were still moving at a mostly-normal pace. Still, Bernt could see that there were more guards out than there should have been.

Concentrating on his familiar bond, he realized through a few vague glimpses and impressions that Jori was still up on the surface somewhere, taking Gnugg and Trip back somewhere safe – probably the orphanage. He hoped she would keep a low profile. Sure, she’d publicly averted a disaster in the city just last week, but he could imagine there would be a lot of people out in the streets soon looking for someone to blame for all this. Someone like Jori, or her little kobold for that matter, should be keeping their heads down, at least for the moment.

“Kind of quiet, down here.” Torvald remarked, looking around. “Do you think they didn’t get the news yet?”

“Not sure.” Bernt said, thinking through it as he talked. “I think it’s just not as densely populated here yet. Besides, people on the surface were buying up food and supplies, and I’d bet the prices just went up. The Undercity isn’t exactly a rich neighborhood. I mean, maybe the new Underworks, but I’d bet most people who can are shopping up on the surface.”

“I guess…” Torvald said, looking around uncomfortably. Bernt wasn’t sure what was bothering him about it, but by then they were entering the training yard and the conversation died.

Underkeepers who’d been off-duty or out on non-guard related duties were gearing up and mustering under Ed’s stern gaze to be sorted into patrol groups, each heading out of the doors as soon as they were assigned.

Josie, who already had everything she needed, went right over to be assigned to a patrol while Bernt and Torvald hurried to the armory to get their equipment – Bernt’s staff and Torvald’s sword and helmet.

By the time they got back, Josie was already gone, assigned to one of the departing patrols. Of those who remained, most were regular spear-wielding guards, but there were also a handful of more specialized-looking fighters who were armed with swords, staves, knives or axes.

“Bernt, how’s the hand?” Ed asked by way of greeting. “Can you fight?”

“It’s fine,” Bernt said, holding it up as if to illustrate. It wasn’t completely fine, but he could cast a fireball without any pain, so he didn’t think he would run into any problems as long as he didn’t overdo it.

“Alright, good. I’ll put you and Torvald there on a patrol together to support Glim there.” He pointed toward a serious-looking dwarf who wore an axe on one hip, and a simple wooden baton on the other. He was another former city guard, one of just three, including Palina, that Ed had managed to bring into the Underkeepers.

The dwarf nodded to them, eyeing Bernt critically as Ed continued. “Do what he tells you and stay out of trouble. Don’t throw any fire around unless you run into an enemy incursion. We’re going out there to reinforce a sense of order and to make sure we’re around in case the Duergar are planning to bust through our walls today. Surprises have a way of showing up all at once, and I don’t want to get caught unaware.”

–----------

Bernt’s patrol marched down a quiet, oddly empty street in the dwarven quarter of the Undercity. There had been a few tussles during the first few hours, and more than one person had come out complaining of looters breaking into homes and businesses. It wasn’t really as quiet in the Undercity as it had first seemed.

Twice, they’d run into small bands of looters trying to break into shops, and had to fight. They held back, trying to avoid any killing, which meant Bernt was mostly useless as a direct combatant. He used his burning glue cantrip on two of them, but it hardly made a difference. While those two were very inconvenienced, the others didn’t even notice. Fire just wasn’t well suited to this kind of work, and Ed had told him not to start throwing fireballs around.

Glim didn’t see it that way though. The dwarf, who’d waded into the fray using only his baton, pulled him aside afterward and told him in no uncertain terms to find a way to make himself useful.

“Did I draw my axe? No, I did not. There is a time and a place, and chastising foolish unarmed looters is not it. Your fire is the same. Use it appropriately, or use something else, but don’t just stand around looking pretty in your fancy robe there.”

Chagrined, Bernt got more creative. This – both the entire patrol and his presence in it as a mage – was about sending a message. So, when they ran into another group that was trying to kick down the door of what looked like a new smithy, he didn’t fight. Instead, he cast a few torch spells over the group. It wasn’t harmful, but it was flashy – it sent a message. The fight ended quickly after that. Even the taciturn Glim seemed satisfied.

What truly surprised Bernt, though, was Torvald. The young man – he wasn’t actually much younger than Bernt, maybe eighteen – was a ferocious fighter. He managed to take on multiple opponents, and he did it without actually harming them. During their first fight, he slipped through the unruly group like a snake, yanking one off his feet toward the guards as he propelled himself into the looters’ midst. It seemed like an insanely dangerous maneuver to Bernt, but their opponents were untrained and fell back in surprise, becoming easy targets for the other guards.

Hours later, still nobody had died as far as Bernt knew. At least not as far as they’d heard. This quarter was far better developed than the goblin quarter – most of the occupied homes and shops already had brand new doors and windows and proper metal locks. Those who thought they could take advantage of any spreading chaos to enrich themselves were disappointed, for the most part. There simply wasn’t that much chaos to speak of, not enough to give looters enough cover to break down doors and get away clean.

They were approaching the end of their shift when something strange happened. A shout echoed faintly down the tunnel, followed by another and another. At Glim’s signal, the patrol picked up speed and moved to investigate.

As they approached the building, though, the dwarf whipped his head around from left to right across the street.

“Weapons out!” he barked, and pulled his axe from his belt. Those who weren’t carrying spears complied, and Bernt pulled out his wand alongside the staff. More quietly, the dwarf continued. “There’s a lookout across the street – they know we’re here.”

Bernt looked around. The patrol was standing in front of a reagent shop – the kind of place alchemists and enchanters and probably warlocks went to get magical herbs, monster parts, and whatever else they needed for their work. The door stood open, but it didn’t look like anyone had broken the lock. Through the gap, Bernt could see that someone had made a mess inside.

It seemed quiet. There were a few gawkers peeking out of windows and pedestrians hurrying by, anxiously eyeing them and their drawn weapons.

He didn’t see anyone who he would have pegged as a lookout.

“Who’s they?” Another guard, a goblin by the name of Hixle asked.

“Thieves’ Guild.” Glim grunted, still scanning the street warily. “There was a human street urchin sitting up against the wall there a second ago. Halfbridge doesn’t get a lot of urchins – we’ve got an orphanage. And there’s no reason they’d be hanging around this street. No food here.”

That sounded a little thin to Bernt. Not every homeless child went to the orphanage. Those who were old enough to get by on their own, and who didn’t want to be there sometimes left or never went there in the first place. Bernt didn’t really understand why they chafed at life in the orphanage so much, but it wasn’t that rare.

Of course, that was the moment when one of the anxious passersby looked up, frightened gaze locking on Bernt’s. On seeing him, his expression relaxed for a moment and he winked before hurrying past. Nobody else noticed.

Bent blinked, unsure what he should do. That had been Oren – the thief from his adventuring party.

Bernt was dumbfounded for a second. Should he say something? Oren was a thief, and probably involved here. Why hide himself in the crowd otherwise, or wink at him?

But Oren was a friend – part of his adventuring party. It wasn’t really a secret that thieves that worked as adventurers were probably also criminals. On the other hand, the law usually didn’t pursue adventurers too closely. Shamelessly blatant illegal activity and any violent crime against people of any importance would be dealt with, of course, but Bernt was fairly sure that the guards themselves didn’t have much to do with that.

Adventurers were extraordinarily dangerous people, even at relatively low ranks. Someone like Oren, who had risen to rank 4, couldn’t just be casually arrested – it would take a lot of guards, or ones who were former adventurers themselves. Guards were well suited to managing regular citizens, and even the occasional monster or angry mob, but they weren’t meant to fight people like Oren without taking losses. The city could fight one of the guilds, maybe, but not while also managing their other responsibilities.

“Alright, I’m going inside with Torvald there.” Glim said obliviously. “The rest of you stay outside. Bernt, I want you watching the pedestrians and the gawkers. If they clump up or start to make any threatening moves, assume that they’re dangerous and call out for me.”

Deciding not to start something they might not be able to finish, and still unsure whether he even wanted to start it at all, Bernt kept his mouth shut and followed directions. He could always report to Ed about it later.