Lake Merrin

by Samuel Colbran

  I step forward and hand him what he wants—the letter of credit. “Aha, only five hundred slips to spend. Hmmm, let me think.”

  He looks at each of us intently and quickly moves to the back of the shop. Javier’s wife Lien speaks up, “Do not worry about my husband! He is a little eccentric. We will do our best to help you.”

  I cannot identify the Elven in these two. Lien does have lobeless ears, but are they pointed? Stop staring, it is weird. I have no idea what I should do. I really do not want to touch anything. Definitely, do not want Gunnar to touch anything.

  Javier comes back with loads of clothes in his arms. “Here we go.” Dumps them onto a table. “These are all unwanted items from Noble’s orders. Mostly we reuse them in other garments, but I could tailor them to fit you and your chaperons, Joan.”

  Stillwater smiles and gracefully thanks Javier for his help. Javier claps his hands and instructs, “Excellent! Joan, Lien will take your measurements. Gentlemen, to the back!” He strides off into another room, and we follow. “Please take off your clothes. I will need to take your measurements.”

  I look around at the other two. I am still wearing my armour, and I think Gunnar is too. “Could you give me a hand? I’m wearing a chain shirt.”

  “Yes, of course,” Javier says as he exits. Without a sound, a young boy appears and immediately starts to help me pull my shirt over my head. Being naked in front of a bunch of guys reminds me of my army days. “I can do the rest. Could you help the Dwarf with his armour? It might take some time to remove.” The boy nods and shuffles off to help Gunnar.

  “Get your grubby hands off me, half-breed!” I look over, and Gunnar has struck the boy.

  “By Jara’s mighty hammer, Gunnar! He is just a boy! Stillwater warned you to be polite!” I look at the boy, and his hair has swept up to reveal a small, pointed ear. He must be a second generation.

  Javier returns, storming over to Gunnar. I quickly come out with, “Sorry about that, Javier. The lad slipped and fell. Did you not, lad?”

  The boy looks at me and then Javier and nods. “Go clean yourself up, son.” He turns back to me. “Sorry about that, he usually isn't that clumsy. Good, you are done. I’ll measure you up first.” I would have preferred his wife or one of those beautiful seamstresses. “See, not so bad. I have a few garments that will fit you.”

  Being average has its advantages sometimes. “So, is everyone here your family?”

  “Oh, yes. I have three boys and four girls. Each following in our footsteps. If I could, I would have a Cuffed Shirt in every city! I have finished. You can get dressed now.”

  As I go back to my bench, I glare at Gunnar and mouth 'Be nice'. He just grunts in my direction. Better than nothing. Wonder what Joan will wear. Not sure if they will find something to fit her. She is pretty big.

  One of the pretty daughters comes in and just ignores me being all sexy. “Father, could you come help, please? We are having some problems finding Joan something to wear.”

  “My lad will finish with the measurements. I’ll be right back.”

  Javier hurries off. I knew that was going to happen. I wander over to Gunnar as the boy is measuring WayWocket. “I do not care if you hit me, but a child? What is your problem?”

  “Piss off, Halfy, you don't understand.” Just stand there, I am not letting him get to me. Just shrug this off. “How can you empathise with me? You are Truth-spawn.”

  “Wow, that is the most stupid, most bigoted thing I have ever heard!” The lad just looks at me and shakes his head before walking out of the room. Great, have to wait for Javier. “What about me being a half-breed makes you think I cannot interpret what you are saying?”

  And here is a sight I never wanted to see: a naked WayWocket. Burns and scars all over his body, and is that a metal pipe instead of a… What the hell happened to you, WayWocket?

  “It’s simple, Solo. You are not a Dwarf. Being an orphan, you will never understand the need for family that drives Dwarven existence.”

  “Put some clothes on, Way! I really do not need to see that metal ding-a-ling.” Always the sensitive case.

  Gunnar continues, “You will never know what it’s like to have a family that is your whole existence. Or be told every day that family needs to be protected, and in turn, they will protect you.” He starts to tear up. Great. “Your father and mother. Every day, family this, family that.”

  Thanks so much for the explanation, Gunnar. Yes, you had a family, and of course, I do not know what that is like. Breathe in and out. Do not jump down his throat. “Yes, Gunnar, you are right, I would not know. I never knew my da or my ma. I had a sister, and she is now a prostitute. Family is unknown for me, but I know what it is like to be half-human. You think being from a family allows you to be a dickhead to everyone, huh?”

  WayWocket has finally put on pants—good—but I have a few questions for him now. Being in a party together, I would like to know what is what.

  “See, see, you can't perceive. Only beholding is the way you can comprehend what truly can be seen.” What? WayWocket is talking crazy again. “Dawn-walk the path of comprehension. Only seeing the dark with light reign.”

  “Thanks so much, Way.” Gunnar just likes to be a grump; it must be a family thing. “After it was driven into me to protect my family, I had an encounter with an … Elf.” Oh, now I see. Had a little booty call. “Her hair was white as snow, so beautiful, and I lay with her. Being half-breed yourself, you know what happened.”

  Yep, an Elf’s hair goes pure white when it is their breeding season. That is how my ma got knocked up. “Sure I do, and?”

  “I found out and went to my father. He gave me a choice: either our family or this new family. I will let you guess which I chose.”

  This seems like a trick. “Let me guess, you chose the Elf and you lived happily ever after?” I laugh a little, then I see his face. I did not think you could lose all the colour in your face and still look furious too.

  “Damn right I did! Biggest mistake I have ever made! Kicked out of my home, disowned by my family, and then that whore leaves me because I have no money. To darkest pit of Abyssus with all Elven kind!”

  “Ahem.” Javier is back. “I need to finish your measurements, Dwarf.” I step back to give him room. “If you weren't with Joan Stillwater, I would have you dragged out of my store!” That shuts Gunnar up. Javier goes over and does the same thing for WayWocket. “That is all I need. Is there any particular style you want?”

  As I am about to speak, WayWocket pipes in, “Colours! Red, blue, purple, green. Rainbow!”

  “Ah, yes, I can do that. And you?” He turns to me.

  I can see he is ignoring Gunnar. “Something classy, best thing I can have. I do not have nice clothes so something beautiful would be welcome.”

  Javier nods. “I assume that you all are heading to some sort of bathing place?”

  “Yeah, this place.” I pull out the other credit letter. “Do you know where it is?”

  Javier peers over to read the name. “Just down Coin, up on Affluent Road.” What road? Why not Rich-As Road, or We-Swim-in-Gold Boulevard? “Shouldn't be hard to find it. The Count is going all out for you.”

  “Affluent Road, hey? Sure thing. Thanks. Could you have someone come get us when our clothes are ready?”

  Javier slaps me on the back. “Don't worry! I'll get my boys to bring them to you. Joan is still being fitted, so you go on ahead.”

  “Thanks. Come on, lads! Off to have a bath!”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Journal Entry Two continued …

  In that tailor store, I found out that if I could bring people back from the dead, I would just kill them all over again! WayWocket and Gunnar, friends forever ...

  I know I should be more … something, but between WayWocket's body and Gunnar’s story, I thought I had it hard. Still, Gunnar is a dick!

  “Hey, Joan, we are ready to head off. Do you want us to wait for you?”

  “No,
I’m still going through my choices. I’ll meet you at the ball.”

  She had choices? Wow, lucky. We are just getting told what to wear. “Sure thing, we will see you at four then.” What is with Affluent Road? Yes, rich man land. “So, have either of you two been to this bathhouse, um, The Mature Tulip? Hope it is not just filled with old guys wanting to fondle, well, yes...”

  For the first time, Gunnar cracks a smile at me. “So, Lone, I mean Halfy, you, you—”

  “Something wrong, Gunnar? Were you going to say 'Ah, Halfy, me boy, you know lots about being fondled?' or something like that?”

  WayWocket drops and starts to roll around on the ground, laughing his head off. Gunnar, if anything, might be blushing, but under all the grime I can’t be sure. “Piss off, Lone. Yeah, I bet you like being fondled by old guys!” If it could happen, WayWocket laughs even harder. “Shut it, Way! Okay, Halfy, you won this round.”

  Could not help laughing, having a few of these rich bastards looking at us now. “Come on, WayWocket, off the ground. Gunnar, you are right, I did win this one.”

  This does not look like anything special, but it does have the two things I want: a good bath and some relaxation. These past few days have been like a turbulent storm. Being swept up in this and that was not my plan when I joined the Watch. But with all that bad, some good came of it. I am now in a real Charter. Did not think I would join up with something like the Rejects, but the name and some of the people sing to me. Now it is time for a good warm bath.

  As we enter, it is another plain room with at least one woman and some of the largest guys I have seen since the Northern Colonies. “Excuse me, sirs, I think you three have the wrong establishment. The place you are looking for is just off the docks.” I know I look a little shabby, but by Jara’s mighty hammer, that is some judgement there. “If you do not leave, you will be escorted out.”

  With that, those three guys start walking towards us. I wonder if I could exchange this credit letter for one of 'my' bathhouses at the docks. “Excuse you, madam, I was sent here by the Count himself.” Each one of the 'bouncers' stops in their tracks and a slip of a girl looks shocked. “I know my Adventuring companions, and I look a little road-weary, but it was my understanding that this was the finest bathhouse in all of Lake Merrin. Am I wrong?” I might be a Truth-born, but I hate being looked down on by others, and to be threatened with manhandling too!

  “I'm sorry, um, sir.”

  “The name is—”

  “Bloody Abyssus, Halfy! Just give her the bloody credit letter from the Count!” Wow, liking Gunnar a lot less now. “If I have to clean up for this event, I don't want to stand around here all day!”

  I hate you, Gunnar. “Here you go, miss. Sorry about my small, nasty friend.” Stick that up your nose! “Is there enough money for a clean and massage?”

  She looks at the letter and frowns slightly. “I'm sorry, sir. If it was just one of you, yes, but three; the public bathing area is all these credit covers.”

  “That will be fine, just have to be ready for the ball tonight. I am receiving the Iron Medal of Heroism.” I hope that sounded like an offhand comment. She does not look impressed. What is the use of this medal anyway? “Okay, show us the way. Is there a chance we could get a chilled jug of ale as well?”

  “I think we could arrange that for you, sir. Follow me.”

  Yay, cold ale. It has been hours since my last drink! Oh, my Trinity! This place, wow! Such beautiful women, scrubbing gross old men's backs. A sweat house; it has been ages since I used one of them. Just wondering how we are going to explain WayWocket's attachment.

  “Live it up, lad! Might not be private but it’s a cut above most bathhouses you are used to!”

  Thank you, random stranger, but why do you have to dry yourself like that? Gross. “Yes, thank you for that.” I lean into Gunnar—man, he really needs a bath! “What should we do about WayWocket?”

  As I speak, WayWocket strips off all his clothes, and—what the Abyssus?—he looks normal. Completely normal. I am now staring at a naked Gnome.

  “Well, he seems fine to me. What is your problem, Halfy? Like the look of Gnome bits, do ya?”

  If I just stabbed him a bit, I am sure Stillwater wouldn't mind. Just ignore him, no point. I walk over to WayWocket and whisper, “Hey, Way.” He turns to me, and I cop another showing of the land down under. The scars are still there and a little extra. “This might be personal, but did you not have a copper pipe down there?”

  He looks at me and smiles hugely because that is not creepy! He waves his hand in front of himself, and it just passes through his 'part'. “Life is an illusion, why not make illusion your life?”

  Being flabbergasted was not the plan. “How? What?”

  “With a pinch of imagination and a dash of energy—” His serious look is one that I would never expect from WayWocket. “—no disgusted look.”

  “I did not mean to offend, it was just a shock at the tailor. What happened to you?” I inquire, not really wanting to know the reason.

  “Do you really care, or just want to know how poor WayWocket got to be so frecked up! Excuse me, I need some medicine to wash this feeling away!”

  He stomps off. Where are your balls?

  “You know how to stick your foot in your mouth, don't you?” Before I send a retort back to Gunnar, I need a drink. Draining two cups of ale, my nerves are calmer. “It seems that you need some 'medicine' too, Halfy.”

  “Piss off, Gunnar. I drink because I like it. I do not have some trumped-up problem like you and WayWocket.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Gunnar growls.

  “Where’s your kid, huh?” Taking another cup of ale. That feels good. “My mum dumped my sister and me at an orphanage. I never knew my father! And because they were both foreigners, I had to join the army to become a citizen of this great land, Favinonia. I was born here, but the law states that at least one parent needs to be Favinonian. Balderdash! At least your kid will not have to deal with that, because you are, you fricking dickhead!”

  “Where do you get off talking to me like that, white-back? You’d be dead five times over if it wasn't for me. Yes, I did it for Stillwater, but you are so ungrateful! You think it was my choice that all my history happened? And thank you so much for bringing it up. If we didn't need you, I would be making this a little more lethal.”

  In a blur, with glowing green hands, Gunnar lurches towards me. “Don't worry, Halfy, I’ll have someone clean you while you sleep.”

  Ah, darkness, my old friend.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Journal Entry Three

  Twenty-fifth of Harvest, 1007 FK.

  I regret what I said to Gunnar that day, and to WayWocket too. It is hard to talk about what we all went through, but we are all part of the Rejects’ brother-sisterhood, now and forever. Pela, Joan, Way, Gunnar, James, Kilroy, Kat, Eoghann, Aglaia, Sebastian ...

  My body rocks from side to side. That must have been some bad ale. As I open my eyes, a large bearded man is standing over me. “Sir, you need to wake up! Your clothes have arrived, and here, a message left by your companions.”

  I read the piece of paper.

  Halfy,

  WayWocket and I have gone ahead.

  You seem to need your rest for tonight.

  See you at four.

  G.

  Great. Bloody Gunnar. Hang on! His hands glowed green, then he lurched towards me, then I woke up. Calm, nice thoughts. Kill him; well, punch him later.

  “Sir, are you all right?” the 'thug' asks.

  “I'm fine.” I do feel clean and refreshed. “Did someone wash me?”

  “Oh yes, your Dwarven friend asked for you to be washed. It took me a little time, but I got you cleaned up.”

  Bloody Gunnar, he is probably laughing about this right now. “Oh, thanks, I think. My clothes?”

  “This way, sir. May I say, you have many scars for someone so young.” I have a good look at him now. He is a well-buil
t, middle-aged man with silver streaks through his hair and a full beard. Favinonians always have better beards than I will ever have. “Here we go, sir. Is there anything else you need? Another ale, perhaps?”

  If I know anything, I know that this is the type of guy who has seen the deepest pit of torment. His stare alone could stop an army or at least a decent sized squad. He seems out of place here.

  “Just one thing. May I ask your name?”

  “Kilroy. Kilroy Jankson. Why do you ask, sir?”

  “Well, you have seen me naked, so I thought it would be better to know your name. Having strangers handling my manhood makes me feel weird. Pleased to meet you, Kilroy. I am Lone Solo.”

  He returns a pleasant smile. “Nice to meet you too, Solo.”

  Picking up my clothes, I have no idea how to put them on. There are fluffy parts and tights. What the hell is that, a plushy fan? How the bloody hell am I going to wear this? And look at those boots, they would wear out before I even reach the ball! At least there is a pig sticker so I will not be unarmed.

  “Hey, Kilroy, do you know how to wear this stuff?” Picking up the plushy fan, waving it in the air. “I know how to put on pants and armour, but this stuff is weird.”

  Walking over, I can see a smirk on his face. “Well, that is for around your neck, and the rest is simple; short trunk hose on first, then the doublet.” Okay, I can do that. “Wait, slow down. Bunch up the hose and pull them up slowly.”

  “Okay, like this?” He nods. Great, I feel like a useless flop. Now the doublet. “Whoa, that is tight.”

  “Just have to attach the leg-of-mutton sleeve, then the cape, and finally the ruff.” He moves in to help me with the sword belt. I am grateful because I can barely move in this garb. “You are missing a hat. One moment.”