Chapter 37

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She closed her eyes as she fell, not wanting to know how far she'd keep falling or what would expect her down there. She felt herself slow down, then opened her eyes: Laurentius had conjured some sort of spell around them, an oily-looking bubble, making them float towards the bottom instead of falling like sacks of rocks. She noticed she'd forgotten to remove her satchel, which still had a couple of explosives inside. A stupid move. Without Laurentius' spell, the bombs would have detonated following her impact to the ground. She made sure to secure the bag close to her chest for the remainder of the descent, blowing up wasn't something to look forward to.

The sound of screaming after the explosion in the holding cells had been brief. She felt a little sorry for the men who came to stop them, all that death just to break Alaric free. She looked up at him as he descended, light as a feather, a few meters above her. The other recruits were probably dead too, or badly injured, they didn't deserve that fate. Maybe they could have saved them all, what was a couple more open cells? The alarm had already gone off anyway. Their blood was on their hands. But Alaric was safe, and she had no way of knowing the blast would be that strong—besides, what if the men in those cells were zealots as bad as the men putting up the pamphlets? A few Onturian Knights less on the streets. She lost her chain of thought as her feet touched the slimy sewer water. She was so glad she was wearing shoes and trousers, she winced as she remembered how the others had to walk the city sewers in robes and sandals while she traveled comfortably in Alaric's arms—not that she could've felt the comfort, but she assumed her body must have been cozy enough. As soon as she touched the ground the smell hit her so hard she stumbled back, hitting a mossy wall. The bubble had protected them from more than just gravity.

"Son of a--" Jo cursed so hard even Wyn would've blushed. A blend of every possible curse word she could remember, artfully combined. The smell, the filth, she was up to her thighs in muck. The black waters were starting to infiltrate her boots and trousers. It was the best thing to ever happen to her, just marvelous.

"I completely agree," Alaric chuckled.

"Navigating this place in the shape of a rat is far more pleasant, indeed," Laurentius twisted his mouth, "I might need to borrow some of your curse words: my new college robe is completely ruined," the mage sighed, ironing the robes with his hands.

"Serves you well for bringing it to a rescue mission," Jo snorted. Alaric gave her an accomplice smile.

"Not an excuse to be unfashionable. Besides, I needed to look as official as possible," the mage directed a smug glance at Jo. She cleaned her cape from the bits of moss clinging to it. It wouldn't do a lot of difference, but she couldn't help herself. It wasn't like she was going to miss that old thing, but feeling disgusting was by far her least favorite thing in the world.

Laurentius produced a small ball of light, making the rest of the wonders of the sewers visible: rotting clothes, floating unidentified pieces of filth, rat corpses...

"Is that-- a human corpse?" Jo pointed at a corner where a heap vaguely resembling a human body lay on top of a pile of bones, half covered in wastewater. It was too dim over there to be completely sure of the nature of the pile.

Jo made a face as she saw how Alaric, barefooted as he was, ventured deeper into the sewage towards the mound. Laurentius' ball of light followed him, illuminating his path and avoiding him the pain of bumping into a swimming rat or two.  Alaric's naked feet touching the muck in the bottom of the sewage, the slimy mud oozing between his toes as he pressed them against it, step by step-- Jo twitched. She felt the urge to vomit, her head felt light. She needed to calm down, it wasn't her. It wasn't happening to her. She had been through worse, she had to remind herself. There were worse things than wastewater and slime.

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