Chapter 50: Ch. 49 – Riggly, Rat Of Old

When Momo opened her eyes again, she nearly toppled over in disbelief. What had once been a room bathed in dim torchlight came awake, revealing a sprawling rodent kingdom. Dozens of ratlings slid silently behind Fromage, transiting from one area of the sewer system to another. Even farther in the distance, an entire marketplace stood beneath drainage pipes.

“Oh my god,” Momo babbled. “All of that has been here… the entire time?”

“Sure has,” Nia smirked. “A silent bunch, aren’t they?”

“I feel like ‘silent’ is an understatement,” Momo said, gawking. “I didn’t hear a single footstep.”

“I told you it’d be wise to drink up,” Teddy grinned, wobbling out of his seat. Having eaten the largest proportion of the cheese, he was considerably drunker than the rest of them. “Cheesewine always reveals the way. Now, there’s no time to dally. Let’s get on with it.”

He tripped over a stray sewer pipe, flopping on to the ground.

“That’s what I thought,” Momo muttered, shaking her head. She had a small amount of faith in the Con Artists while sober, but that faith plummeted quickly into the negatives the moment alcohol was involved. She’d sooner invade the palace with the aid of a group of drugged hamsters.

“He’ll be fine,” Nia waved her hand, strutting away from the table with ease. While Momo’s knees were ready to give out at any second, Nia seemed completely unaffected. The walking picture of poise.

“If anything, his knight impression will only be more convincing,” Radu added, helping Teddy up from the floor. “Those metalheads are basically walking beer kegs.”

“And you guys are much better?” Momo snorted, high on drunk audacity.

“Of course we are. We’re artists.”

“Artists are always drunk,” a thief interjected. “It helps the creative juices flow.”

“From your nimble fingers to your thieving toes,” Teddy added musically, swaying in Radu’s arms. “A Con Artist must always be a jolly fellow.”

More of the group joined in, singing this impromptu theme song as they made their way haphazardly down the corridor. Momo’s instinct was to poke fun at it – but she was well-aware that her own internal theme song had dictated more of her life than she’d like to admit.

Once everyone was back on their feet, Fromage led them through a twisting maze of tunnels. Momo became very thankful for her [Cheese Vision], as the tunnel system became increasingly dark as they progressed. Only the first chambers were lit by torches, it seemed – the rest were only accessible after a bottle of yellow wine.

“I thought rats were supposed to be able to see in the dark,” Momo mumbled, stepping over yet another discarded wine bottle.

“Big misconception,” Fromage quickly refuted. “Our ancestral brethren were quite able to sneak around in the midnight, but only because of their acute senses of touch, smell, and hearing. Us halfling rats are plagued by our human deficiencies.”

“The same human deficiencies that allowed you to stand on two legs, talk, and make magical night vision cheese?” Momo giggled drunkenly.

He stopped abruptly, turning his head back towards her.

“What did you just say?”

Momo stumbled, nearly falling face-flat into a drain pipe before catching herself.

“Oh, n – nothing,” she laughed lightly, her heart pounding in her chest. Stupid alcohol.

“Do you dare speak ill of the Great Rats that came before us?”

“I’d advise answering no,” Nia smirked, materializing by her side and giving Momo the scare of her life. Even with [Cheese Vision] enabled, she could barely keep track of the nimble footed thief.

“No, sir,” Momo backtracked, taking Nia’s advice. “I have nothing but respect for rodents. In fact, a rodent is the only reason I am alive today.”

Fromage narrowed his eyes. “Is that so? You are rather small. I assumed you were tiny in the human way, but could it be that you, the infamous cracker-thief, are part rat yourself?”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant –”

“Answer me, cracker-thief! Rat, or not rat?”

Momo felt like she had been cast in a very odd rendition of Hamlet.

“Um well, I am not a rat. But I contain a rat. Is contain the right word? I have a rat inside me. That sounds worse.”

Fromage’s eyes widened, his face growing more solemn as she babbled on.

“A [Ratmancer]? Is that what you are?” He said, cutting her off.

“A… what?” Momo blinked.

His shock transformed into fear, and he bared his teeth.

“I will not become one of your lackeys, vile [Ratmancer]! I thought we had done away with your kind centuries ago, and yet you return to enslave me and my brothers!”

“I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding,” Momo hiccupped, frantically waving her hands in front of her face. Fromage refused to listen, inching closer to her neck. He looked like he was about to pounce.

Nia sighed, silently stepping between Fromage’s fangs and Momo’s throat.

“[Charm],” she cast.

The oversized rodent immediately settled, his teeth retracting.

“I really didn’t want to have to do that,” Nia sighed, and then turned to Momo. “Everything was going just swimmingly. You really do have a penchant for stirring up trouble, don’t you?”

“Me? I hate trouble.” Momo said, blushing red.

“Well, trouble loves you,” Nia laughed, and turned her attention to Fromage. “Alright big guy, lead us out of here. No more commotion or accusations.”

Fromage nodded, eerily obedient, and once again took charge of the pack.

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The trek towards the secret entrance was long. Nam’Dal spanned a large distance, and the sewer system even more so, given it was not designed with walking in mind. Momo’s feet had begun to hurt, and with most of the con artists caught up in drunken chatter, her mind began to wander.

She couldn’t help but obsess over Nia’s accusation. Trouble did seem to love her. It was beginning to dawn on her that she might not be an unwilling victim of it, either. She had assumed that falling into scheme after scheme was a side effect of being one of Morgana’s servants, but…

She didn’t have to accept Nia’s invitation, or return to Valerica’s side time and time again. She could have weaseled out of the whole affair weeks ago. Momo on Earth would have. If she had any class back on the Big Green and Blue, it was [Responsibility Evader]. And yet, here she was: picking fights with rats, tagging along to a civil war, acting as a lowkey agent of necromantic revolution.

She took notice of herself in a reflective pipe. She knew the number one rule of drunkenness was never to stare at yourself in the mirror, as you will most likely spin yourself into an existential crisis, or try and fight yourself, but like all good drunkards, she did anyway.

What lay there didn’t startle her. In fact, she was relieved. She was considerably more alive than the last time she saw herself – color had returned to her cheeks, her hair was no longer completely matted. She had even gained the tiniest amount of muscle in her arms and shoulders. Enough to lift a coffee mug over her head and not worry about spilling.

Her robes were still more ‘abandoned patchwork door mat’ than proper clothing, but that could be fixed. Her hair was still white as a sheet. She still looked too much like her father, and nothing like her mother. And somewhere deep inside her chest, a rat-gerbil hybrid was spinning on a wheel like a madman.

A small, proud grin inched up her face. Sure, she looked like she had been tied up to a windmill and twirled around a couple of times, but she liked that. She was building character, as her mother loved to say. A necromantic, thieving, stealing, conning character, but one with heart.

Or at least forearms.

“We’re here.”

The announcement tore Momo from her thoughts, delivering her back to the present. They had arrived at an unremarkable dead end. Momo scanned her surroundings, but produced nothing of note. Just a cold room full of pipes, like the rest.

Not that she was in the best position to be analyzing anything. She was barely able to control her bladder. She was considering asking if they could have a bathroom break once they got into the Knight’s Hall, but she doubted that they had any public use restrooms.

“Open the hatch,” Nia instructed Fromage, pointing to one of the walls. The rat obliged, and abruptly shoved his fist into the dirt wall. He wriggled his wrist in the dirt, and then with the full weight of his body, he pulled backwards.

Accompanied by a tiny, animalesque scream, Fromage fell backwards, and out popped a rodent. Not a halfling rodent, but a normal-sized one, the size of two open palms. It fell to the floor, belly-side up, and flailed its paws in the air.

“Oh no,” Momo frowned in fear, immediately approaching it. “Are you okay there?”

The rat blinked up at her, and then a big, booming voice echoed through the chamber.

“Who dares disturb my slumber?”

Momo yelped, the alcohol nearly jumping out of her stomach. She looked around frantically, but the source of the voice seemed to originate, somehow, from the tiny rodent itself.

“We apologize, Riggly,” Nia intervened, once again excusing Momo’s bad rat-manners. “But we need you to open the secret entrance again.”

“I will not speak until I am righted.”

Nia sighed, and scooped the rat underneath, turning it over so it was no longer struggling on its backside. Properly standing, it shook its fur and licked its paws, and then firmly plopped itself into a sitting position.

“That’s better. I see you have once again incapacitated the Big One. Good. He is too full of himself.”

“I am so confused,” Momo said, mind whirring like an exhausted computer fan. “Is that a normal rat, or a magic rat, or a halfling rat?”

“How dare you! I am one of the remaining Rats of Old,” the rodent named Riggly insisted. “I may not look as handsome and impressive as I did in my younger years, but I could still dismember you limb by limb if I so chose to. So act accordingly.”

Momo blinked. It was time for her to stop talking, she decided. From the stern look Nia was giving her, she shared this sentiment.

“Riggly, will you let us up?” Nia repeated, pressing the topic.

“I don’t see what I get out of such a chore.”

“I snagged a few cheese crumbs,” Nia said, producing some stolen cheese from her pocket. “Your favorite flavor, too.”

The rodent’s eyes lit up, and it stuck its tiny paws out towards her.

“Could it be? Forbidden Cheddar? I must taste it. Oh, give it to me now.”

“Not so fast,” Nia said, tightening her fist. “First, the hatch, please.”

“No, don’t think so,” Riggly said, and waved his paw in the air. “[Paw of Fir–]”

“Do you really want to torch this cheddar?” Nia interrupted, catching his paw with her hand, effectively canceling the spell.

“Dang nab it,” the rodent gritted its tiny molars. “Release my hand at once, wench!”

Momo watched the staredown between Nia and the rodent with great amusement, Nia’s hand dwarfing his entire body in size. It seemed even great, unimaginable power had its limits.

“No,” Nia grinned. “Accept the cheese, open the passageway. Let’s not make a mess of your chambers.”

The rodent seemed to consider this, its paw falling limp in Nia’s grip.

“Fine. Release me, and I will do your bidding. But I demand all of your cheese crumbs, and that you bring me a double serving of them once you return.”

“We’re making a lot of promises to rats today,” Momo whispered to no one in particular.

“Deal,” Nia said, shaking his paw. “I’ll make it triple.”

Pleased, Riggly shuffled back into the hole that Fromage had dragged him out of. Within seconds, whistles and locks were whizzing and whirring. The western wall of the room began to shake, dirt spraying off of it. It began to recede, the stone inching slowly away to reveal a previously hidden corridor.

“Oh, great,” Momo moaned. “Another ladder?”

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