“When you sup with the devil, you must use a long spoon; when you work with wolves, you must remember they only respect teeth sharper than their own.”— Frontier Maxim The man towering over Riven looked like he had been stitched together from old scar tissue.
A thick pelt vest hung loosely over his barrel chest, and a notched battle-axe was slung casually across his back.
A jagged white scar ran across his left cheek, and his grin revealed a missing canine tooth.
“You’re a long way from the nursery, little rat,” the man rumbled.
He leaned down, smelling faintly of stale ale, sweat, and cheap tobacco.
“What’s a toddler with a butter knife doing sniffing around the bounty board?” Riven didn’t flinch.
His hand remained firmly on the hilt of his oversized sword.
His body tensed as he studied the man, quietly calculating the distance between them and the possible ways to escape.
He had no chance of winning a fight against a grown man like this.
Not with his current strength and especially not with his injured shoulder.
“I’m looking for work,” Riven replied.
His voice was flat, cold, and entirely devoid of childish fear.
The big man blinked, apparently surprised by the lack of trembling.
Then he burst into a deep, booming laugh that drew the attention of several nearby adventurers.
“Work?
Listen to him!” He slapped his thigh.
“Hear that, Gorn?” A second man stepped out from behind a wooden pillar.
Unlike the first, he was lean and somewhat shorter, with sharp eyes and a narrow face.
He wore leather armor too big for him and carried a short sword at his waist.
His gaze moved over Riven, lingering on his bloodstained clothes.
“Saw a kid like that once in the western marches.
Usually don’t last a week unless someone clips their wings.” Riven stared at them both.
His grip tightened around the sword hilt.
“If you’re here to talk, say it.
If not, get out of my way.” The big man’s grin faltered.
For a moment, irritation flashed across his scarred face.
“Feisty little stray, aren’t you?
Most kids would be crying for their mothers right about now.” “I don’t know my mother,” Riven replied instantly.
“And I don’t have time for games.” Silence settled between them.
Boulder stared down at the boy, apparently trying to decide whether he was serious.
Riven met his gaze without blinking.
He had already learned that showing fear and submission could make people treat him worse.
The guards at the camp had taught him that much.
He wasn’t about to let some stranger intimidate him now.
After a moment, the large man let out a low whistle.
His expression shifted from irritation to amusement.
“Well, aren’t you an interesting little cunt?” He straightened and tapped his chest.
“Name’s Boulder.
And this twitchy bastard is Gorn.” Gorn rolled his eyes but didn’t bother correcting him.
“We run a low-tier clearing crew for the outer ridge,” Boulder continued.
“Saw you at the counter earlier.
Saw you pull out a Horned Wolf core, too.” Riven’s expression remained unchanged, but he paid close attention.
They had been watching him.
“Not many five-year-olds walk out of the pines with a core intact,” Boulder added.
“Especially not ones carrying a sword almost as big as they are.” Riven glanced briefly at the weapon hanging from his waist.
“What do you want?” “Simple.” Boulder crossed his massive arms.
“The Guild’s got a backlog of clearing jobs out at the old quarry, about three miles north of here.
Goblins and burrow-rats have been infesting the place.” Riven listened carefully.
“Low-yield, messy work.
Most veteran parties think it’s beneath them, so the Guild’s been having trouble finding people willing to take it.” Gorn stepped forward.
“We need someone small enough to crawl into the tighter crevices and flush the pests out.
The quarry has plenty of narrow passages where the larger adventurers can’t reach.” Riven’s eyes narrowed slightly.
There it was.
They wanted to use his size.
He had spent much of his time in the mining camp being forced into narrow spaces because he was small enough to fit.
Apparently, that wasn’t going to change just because he had escaped.
Boulder continued as though he hadn’t noticed Riven’s reaction.
“We pay two copper per rat tail and ten per goblin ear.
Any scrap metal we find down there gets split evenly.” Riven considered the offer.
Two copper per rat tail wasn’t much, but if there were enough of them, it could add up.
Goblins paid considerably more, and any useful equipment they found could be sold.
More importantly, he needed money.
He had barely enough left to buy a meal and a cheap place to sleep.
If he wanted to survive in town, he needed a steady source of income.
But there was another problem.
His shoulder.
The cleric had warned him not to fight for at least a week.
Even if the wound had closed, the muscles underneath were still weak.
Taking a job that involved crawling through cramped tunnels and fighting monsters was a terrible idea.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have many other options.
The low ranking jobs he could get were all taken.
“Why me?” Riven asked.
Boulder shrugged.
“You’re small.
You can fit into places we can’t.
And you already managed to kill a Horned Wolf on your own.” Gorn gave him a skeptical look.
“Though I wouldn’t recommend getting too confident.
Goblins aren’t particularly strong, but they can be dangerous in groups.
And burrow-rats tend to bite.” Riven looked between the two men.
They weren’t offering to help him out of kindness.
They needed someone who could do a job that was inconvenient for them.
He understood that perfectly well.
Still, he couldn’t help wondering whether they intended to use him as bait.
“What happens if I refuse?” Boulder shrugged again.
“Nothing.
You walk away, and we find someone else.” Gorn gave a small nod.
“We’re not forcing you.
But if you want to make money, it’s an option.” Riven studied them for a moment.
Their offer was suspicious, but not entirely unreasonable.
They were experienced adventurers, and working with them would give him a chance to learn more about the Guild and the surrounding area.
He could also earn money without having to search for jobs himself.
There was just one thing he needed to make clear.
“I’m not crawling into a tunnel if there’s something dangerous waiting inside.” Boulder laughed.
“Fair enough, kid.
We’ll clear the main passages first.
You only go into the smaller crevices once we’re sure they’re safe.” Riven didn’t answer immediately.
He knew his limits better than either of them.
He also knew that he couldn’t afford to spend too long recovering without any income.
He looked down at the metallic ring around his wrist.
Then he looked back at Boulder.
“Tomorrow morning,” Riven said quietly.
“What time?” Boulder grinned, revealing his missing tooth.
“Dawn, kid.
Don’t be late.” Riven gave a small nod.
“Where do I meet you?” “Right here.
In front of the Guild.
We’ll head out as soon as we’re all together.” With that, Boulder turned away, apparently satisfied.
Gorn lingered for a moment, studying Riven.
“One more thing, kid.” Riven looked up.
“Don’t mistake Boulder’s jokes for friendliness.
He’ll laugh just as hard if you fall into a hole and break your neck.” Boulder barked a laugh from a few steps away.
“Oi!
Don’t scare the kid off!” Gorn ignored him.
“Get some rest tonight.
You’ll need it.” He turned and followed Boulder toward the tables.
Riven watched them disappear into the crowd.
He wasn’t sure whether he trusted either of them.
In fact, he was fairly certain he shouldn’t.
But he had a job for tomorrow.
That was something.
He would be working with two strangers, fighting monsters, and crawling into narrow passages for money.
It wasn’t exactly what he had imagined his first day as an adventurer would look like.
Still, he had survived worse.
And if there was one thing the slave camp had taught him, it was how to make use of whatever opportunities came his way.
For now, he needed food and somewhere to sleep.
Tomorrow, he would find out whether this job was worth the risk.