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Construction Mage - Chapter 5: The Joy of Shelter
🕑 Added 2025-04-11 20:04:02 +0000 UTC“If it isn’t milord,” Garrick said as he took a seat next to Clay and nodded toward the food stall vendor. “Boss, can you get me a meat skewer along with a slice of bread and cheese?”
“Coming right up!” the vendor replied with a grin.
“You sure left quite early this morning.” Garrick shifted in his seat to turn towards Clay, causing the wooden stool to creak under his impressive weight. “Hope ya got enough sleep before endangering yourself in the dungeon. Oh, and I got a report about a missing shovel, by the way. You wouldn’t happen to have heard or seen anything related to that, would you?”
The two men’s gaze drifted toward the shovel Clay had placed against the stall. Clay shrugged as he continued to chew on his food. It was only when he was done that he replied.
“Had to get resourceful because of a last-minute issue. Think I can borrow it for another few days?”
“Ha, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Construction equipment wears down surprisingly fast or goes missing during the chaos of the waves.”
“Well, that saves me from having to get it clean.”
Clay’s words earned him several heavy smacks on his back, ones that likely left red marks.
“My predecessors always used to say, take care of your tools, and they’ll take care of you. Now, I’m no Delver, but I’d say that should especially apply to your new profession.”
“Yeah, yeah. I should be able to get proper gear in a few weeks. I just went in for a quick run today, and I already made double what you usually pay me.”
“Lad, I pay you a whole hundred Lyons a day. You’d think you’d get that lucky if I didn’t fancy you as someone usable with that large build of yours? If I didn’t hire you that day, I reckon you’d be laboring away at the walls! You’d barely be scraping fifty Lyons a day before they make you pay for ya lunch too.”
“I gotta be ever grateful to my parents for gifting me with such a physique, then. Also, you, for mistaking me as someone important,” Clay said with a mischievous smirk.
“Aye.” Garrick shrugged before breaking into the most courteous bow he could muster. “Pleasure to be at your service, milord.”
The two burst into laughter at the same time, but before they could resume their banter, the vendor silenced Garrick with his order. Respecting their food, the two didn’t bother talking until they were on their way back toward the worksite.
“So, what are you doing for the rest of the day? Going back to the dungeon?”
“Nah, I’m my own boss now. Don’t have to work myself to the bone. I think I’ve just about had it with sleeping outdoors. I’m going to go look for an inn and do some shopping.”
“About time. I’m surprised you lasted this long bumming in the fourth ring. Was half expecting you to be nabbed up by one of those flying monsters during the night,” Garrick snickered. “Well, I’m glad yer moving up in life. You know where to find me if you need anything. Or my wife. You should go say hi to her if you’re heading back into the third ring. She always asks about you.”
“Sounds good. I do owe her a gift for all the trouble I put her through. Any ideas on that end?”
“Nothing I’m willing to share. I save my gift ideas for our special occasions only. They’re my lifeline.”
“You mean it’s the only way she forgives you for coming home drunk all the time. She complains about that when you’re not there, you know. You should lay off on it.”
“A man’s gotta work hard and drink just as hard! Hahaha!” Garrick guffawed as he strolled into the construction site. He held up a hand with his back turned to Clay—his version of waving goodbye.
Shaking his head at the scene, Clay couldn’t help but chuckle at the large foreman who had been his boss for three months. He took a moment to observe his former workers doing their thing before he headed back toward the third ring.
The stench of the hustle and bustle of civilization assaulted him as soon as he neared the walls. It was something Clay could never get used to but had to endure. He lost count of the number of times he had dreamed about a hot shower and a clean bed, and right now, he was taking his first step toward a more comfortable living situation. After all, no one would respect someone who couldn’t even clean up after themselves.
During his stay in Ravenhold, Clay had investigated various establishments before being deterred by the harsh reality of poverty. It was why he knew exactly which inn he wanted to stay at now that he had some coins.
The Myrilune’s Cove was what Clay believed to be the best inn on a budget. It was frequented by numerous peddlers and their bodyguards. Their most attractive selling point was easy access to a well located in the heart of their courtyard. It was something he learned to value after having lived several klicks away from one for months. Fetching water every day was not fun.
“If it isn’t the towering fellow,” the man with salt-and-pepper hair called out as soon as he saw Clay enter his establishment. “I hope you came with coins this time.”
“Haha, still remember me?” Clay bashfully asked. “It’s been months since I came by. And yes, I have some coins. It’s one hundred Lyons a night, right?”
“Breakfast and dinner are an extra fifty. One mug of ale per meal.”
Clay quickly took out his coin purse and paid the man. He only handed one silver coin, opting to keep his meal options open. In exchange, he received a thick iron key. It was attached to a small wooden slab with an engraving of some sort of fish.
Seeing how the innkeeper was in no mood for further conversation, Clay swiftly headed down the hallway behind him. He passed by various doors with similar engravings of fish on them, but none matched his key on the first floor. Taking his search up the stairs at the end of the corridor, he eventually found his room in the middle of the second floor.
The key made a satisfying click noise when he turned it, unlocking his home for the foreseeable future.
It took a single glance for everything to be seen. Clay sighed as he closed the door behind him.
“Well, it isn’t the Ritz, that’s for sure, but I guess that was to be expected,” he muttered.
The floorboards creaked as he walked further in. Its layout was similar to the hotels he was familiar with, but instead of a nicely air-conditioned room with warm carpets, the entire place was plain, consisting mostly of one material—wooden planks. The place smelled mildewy, as if damp wood had been soaking in moisture for years, leaving a thick, musty scent.
Taking a closer look, Clay found the mustiness may have come from the straw stuffed into the pillows or the thin blanket. Either way, when he sat down on the bed, he let out another sigh.
“A hard bed is good for your back, they say. That doesn’t apply when you’re a side sleeper. I’m definitely going to have sore shoulders and hips for the next little while.”
Clay took a moment to consider if Garrick would let him take one of the canopies used to shield the construction materials from the elements and some fresh straw to soften his bed. The foreman had already stretched the rules for him, allowing him to take the shovel, so he wasn’t that fond of the idea. It was skirting too close to taking advantage of the kind man.
Shaking out the greed from his thoughts, Clay focused back on the task at hand. He finally obtained shelter, so the next thing was to get himself cleaned up. Now that he had a relatively safe place to store items, he wasn’t afraid of owning property anymore. He desperately needed to clean himself up and get a new change of clothes so he could wash the filth out of his current attire.
He did just that.
The Silver Spindle was the clothing store where Clay had sold his modern clothes. It was a known quantity.
“Hey there again. You’re Mikel, right?” Clay greeted upon seeing the stocky old storekeeper, who had been staring at him the moment he opened the doors.
“Boy, you here to buy or sell? I’d really like to get my hands on more of what you sold last time. Their design was strange, but the material was excellent. I was able to turn it into something fit for the first ringers. I have many eager clients who are willing to pay good coin for more.”
“Sorry, I don’t have anything to sell this time. Do you think you can help me find another set of clothes? Something similar to what I have.”
The old storekeeper lightly scoffed to himself before he reluctantly stood up.
“Can’t say I’ll find something exactly like it. Secondhand goods are finicky like that. Just give me a moment, and I’ll see what I can fit you in.”
Clay shrugged. “Go ahead.”
He didn’t really mind, as he would be wearing his leather armor over the clothes he would buy.
Now that I think about it, I really should ask the leatherworkers to show me how to skin properly. Maybe a butcher for the meat as well. I bet I can carry a lot more if I do everything in the dungeon and only bring back the finished goods. It’s what all the other Delvers do, after all.
“Here, try these on for size.” The old man quickly came back with a linen tunic and pants.
“How much?”
“Had these for quite some time; few ever fit in them, so five hundred Lyons will do.”
Clay caught himself before he winced. He had expected the expense. Clothing was not cheap in an era before mass production. The high price he got for selling his modern clothes was one of the reasons he was able to afford the fee to become a Delver. He counted himself lucky to be able to afford any clothing at all.
With a new set of clothes acquired, Clay carried the bundle that contained his new purchase, handling it carefully lest it get dirty.
Making his way back on the grimy streets of Ravenhold, he froze up when he made eye contact with an unfamiliar woman. She was armed and wore fancy armor that betrayed her identity as a fellow Delver, but her unfriendly gaze gave Clay a bad feeling. It might’ve also had something to do with the guard she was whispering to.
Before he could react, the guard nodded and began briskly walking toward him. Clay’s heart dropped as the man drew closer, staring unflinchingly at him.
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