Stumbling Up: A Loser's Guide to Progression - Chapter 56: Refugees

Exiting the dungeon turned out to be a lot simpler than entering the dungeon. Now that we had defeated the creature controlling the dungeon, our mapping interface unlocked, showing the true extent of the maze. Traps were showed as disabled and the exit portal clearly marked.

The exit dumped us into an alleyway in the professional district, skipping the whole underground tunnel network. I can't describe how relieved I felt to breathe in fresh air and feel the heat of the morning sun on my face. The dungeon had a wet-blanket closeness that my gills loved but that had kept me on edge the entire dive.

Also, I didn’t miss the stench of the fat berg.

Meredeath handed a sleeping Richard back to me. The joke was on him. She didn’t want to babysit him.

She peeled off to go back to The Velvet Box. I wasn't going to think too hard about why she was in such a hurry.

Richard had moved from messy drunk to sleepy drunk. He curled around my neck, filling my ear with soft snores.

Andrew led us away from the city center and business district. Foot traffic had picked up in the city as commerce began. Little did they know, a dungeon had been boiling beneath their feet, on the verge of an outbreak.

Andrew held Mira's hand as they wove between kids on their way to school and servants on the way to the market. We walked right past the giant windmill at the heart of the town, the giant sails creaking as they slowly rotated.

"Fish! Fresh fish!" A stall owner cried.

"Dried fish! Nothing fresh comes from the Niyat River!" the neighbor stall shouted.

"Ah, for fuck’s sake, who the hell put their stalls next to each other?"

Andrew and Mira were unfazed by the noise and the bustle of the market. They took us further north into a residential district. Homes started off grand with staircases framing a front second-story entrance. Butlers stood on the second-story balconies silently judging all those who walked by.

We kept walking past the squares with fountains touting war heroes and politicians. The buildings got taller but less grand. Paint chipped, the soffit sagged, and overgrown bushes decorated small front gardens.

"We almost there?" Tandy asked. We'd split the loot between our bags, but it was getting heavier with every step.

"Almost." Andrew sounded tired. We walked past a couple of burned-out buildings, the brick garden walls the only reminder of the home. The wealth and the business of the central city gave way to quiet, unkempt gardens and weedy walkways.

I bumped into Andrew's back as we arrived at the orphanage without announcement. Before us, a high rock wall loomed, separating the neighboring properties. A loud screech pierced my ears as Mira wrenched the heavy gate open with all her might.

Where the hell am I?

“Orphanage,” I whispered.

Meredeath! The betrayal. He tucked his tail tight against my neck, a sure sign he was pouting.

The front garden resembled a tent city, with canvas draped over almost every inch. Hungry little eyes poked out to look at the newcomers. A stone pathway between tents wound its way to the front entrance of a modest-looking two-story row home. Oddly, the front door was the same color as Andrew’s armor. It had the traditional deep blue trim that showed all were welcome. Whispers surrounded us as we walked the path.

Any doubts I'd had about donating our dungeon run's wealth had evaporated with the look of little grubby faces.

This is shameful, Richard said. All drunkenness and betrayal forgotten as he extended his tentacles to look at the tents.

Mira marched right up to the front door and threw it open. "Mother! We've got guests!"

"I don't need any more guests," came a grumbling response from the kitchen.

The house was old styled with tall wooden baseboards and a cramped stairwell that hugged the wall. Normally, the room would have been a living room wrapped around the central fireplace. Here, a giant wooden table sat with enough seating for at least two dozen. A teenager stood trying to wrangle two toddlers into a highchair.

"I think you'll want to meet these two," Andrew said, moving to help the struggling teen. It was incredible to watch his warrior ways fade as he gently grabbed one toddler and slotted their legs effortlessly into the wooden holes. The kid began crying, having lost her game of 'I don't fit' in one smooth motion. Having both watched and experienced that particular challenge with my own younger siblings, I wondered if Andrew had a skill he'd used.

"Do you know how many mouths I have to feed, Mira? Wait. Mira, is that you?" A matronly woman came out of the kitchen. She was thin in an oversized food-splattered apron. Brown and gray frizzy curls haloed her head, giving an unkempt appearance. She held a wooden spoon in one hand as though she were used to wielding it on food and misbehaving children alike. "Andrew, you found her?" The relief in the woman's voice was easy to spot as she moved to a column of loving caregivers in my estimation.

Mira ran to her, wrapping her in a tight hug around the waist. The woman’s face transformed from plain to beautiful, smile lines and bright teeth as she lifted Mira up and squeezed her.

"Is that gruel you're cooking?" I asked, spotting a bit of mush stuck to the spoon. "If so, why don't you let me take over in the kitchen so you can have a reunion?"

The woman looked at my ratty appearance on the verge of declining when Andrew stepped in. "Eryn, it's okay. This is Cole, Tandy, and the slug is Richard. They're [Adventurers] that helped me find Mira."

With a frown, Eryn handed over the spoon. "Just don't burn it. I can't listen to them complain about a burned breakfast all day."

I grinned. "It's been a long time since I burned any gruel. Richard, can you give me a [Clean] to start?"

Richard obliged, my hands glowing a golden yellow as all traces of the day melted away.

"Oooh! Can you do that to meeee?" Mira ran forward, hopping up and down.

What am I now, a child washing station? Put me on the table. He sighed as though he'd done the math and knew what the rest of his morning was to entail.

I put the grumpy slug down, smiling as Mira started to glow. Grabbing the spatula from Eryn, I went back into the kitchen.

Whatever skills Eryn had in being a caregiver for a hoard of children, it was obvious cooking wasn't at the top. The kitchen was messy and sticky. Several large pots of gruel sat on the stove.

A bored looking kid sat on a stool by the tinderbox. While I was watching, he opened the side of the oven and stuck another sliver in. It made sense that they couldn't afford a magical stove, but heat control was nonexistent when you just had a child shoving as much fuel in the firebox as could fit.

"Hey, what's your name?" I asked, grabbing an apron draped over a cabinet. It was always easier to get a child to do what you wanted when you knew their name.

The boy looked up at me with wide brown eyes. "Rust, they call me Rust."

I hoped that wasn't his real name, but when he didn't provide another, I went with it. Applying the spoon to a pot, I quickly started stirring, realizing it was seconds from burning.

"Okay, Rust. You're working with the Master of Mush today," I couldn't help but smile. Funny how perspective worked. "Stop feeding the oven. Can you stand on that stool and get a better view up here? I'm going to teach you how to stir. Did I see apples in the pantry?"

“You want me to stir?” He looked up at me as though I was trusting him with the key to the city.

“Absolutely! If you can fill the tinderbox, you can stir!” I tried sounding upbeat, my favorite tactic with children. The truth, however, is I was pretty sure the gruel was already burnt. The faster we got him away from the tinderbox, the more chance I had to salvage it.

We got to work. Rust stirred while I cored and chopped some apples. I found some old cinnamon sticks that I grated into the boiling pot. The kitchen started smelling like a proper breakfast was in the works. Several curious children popped in asking questions. None stayed longer than my promise that breakfast would be ready soon.

The house, however, started waking up with the smells.

"You used the last of our apples, did you?" Eryn asked as she came in to check on our progress. She sounded tired. "I guess Mira's return is worth celebrating, but you used the last of our cinnamon too. You work in a restaurant where food wasn't tight?"

I felt every fiber of her exhaustion, even if I internally cringed at her judgement. It was the same voice my mom used after a long winter, when the pantry was looking bare.

"Aye, my apologies. Was trying to spice it up a bit. Has Tandy talked to you about our donation yet? Where do you keep your dishes? I'll start serving everything up. How many mouths do we have to feed?"

Eryn studied me for another long moment before replying, "Thirty-five, not counting your crew. She did, and apologies. I'm so used to making things stretch that, even with the bounty your team is offering, I'm trying to imagine how to make it last."

Thirty-five mouths. I couldn't imagine trying to run a household that big day in and day out.

"Rust, why don't you get the bowls down," I said quietly, trying to comprehend the monumental task the woman had before her.

“Elli, get back into the dining room!” Eryn’s voice snapped. “You know, no one but Rust is in the kitchen while food is being cooked. Apologies, I’ll get back to getting everyone set. Rust can help you with the bowls.”

I ladled out spoonful after spoonful, counting the bowls, leaving Tandy and me out. I portioned it out almost perfectly, although the last bowl was mostly the dried, stuck-on remnants at the bottom of the last pot.

Rust took it. I watched as the look of excitement at having apple and cinnamon in his breakfast had melted away.

"Take this to Richard, the slug." I told him. If Richard had nothing, he had several hydrating tricks up his sleeves.

Children occupied every nook and cranny of the dining hall. They pulled at Tandy's clothes, marveling at its finery. Thankfully, her nettle enchantment turned off. Everyone looked notably clean, as Richard kept pulsing as child after child brought him something else to clean. Andrew crouched over one highchair, spooning gruel into a child's mouth. He had bits of spit-up gunk on his bandana.

"Thank you for the help with breakfast. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful." Eryn stood beside me in the doorframe. As I looked at her, I revisited my estimate of her matronly state. She wasn't much older than I. The gray in her hair had been flour. I noted she hadn't grabbed a bowl for herself either, and her thin frame was as delicate as many of the children's.

"We're going to find you some help," I said. I didn't know how, but I knew it was true.

Richard extended two tentacles back from his perch on the table in agreement.

I didn't need a [System] request to tell me what was right and wrong.