Wynnie excused herself from going to the jail in the morning. She had more important things to do than visiting the pirates who tried to extort her. For example, she needed to get the tavern ready for another busy night. It was dawning on her that our busy Friday was just the beginning, and that Saturday would be even more packed.
I couldn't tell if she was more nervous or excited. But one thing was for sure: she looked radiant.
She wore a smile all morning as we dressed, washed, and got ready for the day. Every time our eyes met, and her perfect smile widened. Every moment she could, she leaned in for a kiss or to squeeze my hand.
I really, really didn't want to leave her, but duty called. The way I saw it, there was no reason to make the pirates even angrier by pretending they didn’t exist. If they wanted to talk to me, then I could make a quick trip to a stinky jail with even stinkier occupants. Occupants who hated me and probably wanted revenge.
Maybe they could be reasoned with.
I made my way through the town, nodding greetings at passersby. Small town though it was, Seaport still housed more residents than I could’ve met in my short time there. It wasn’t as though I’d had formal introductions to many of them.
Yet with each hello and good morning, I got one in return. Most of them even used my name, though they struggled with how foreign it sounded to them. I heard a few cases of Drewlian and more than one And Drew, Too.
Notoriety was an odd feeling. I could only hope it was a good thing.
The jail was off in the hills a way, situated just off the path to Northridge. Only a few farms and homesteads dotted the surrounding landscape. I almost missed the turnoff since the area was so rural.
A faded wooden sign carved in the shape of an arrow pointed me in the direction. It read: Jail and Law Office.
The skinny path to the building felt sad and beaten down, worn to rocks and dust by many tired feet. Whoever tended the place had cut all the vegetation around the path short. Cart tracks marked either side of the footpath where the deputies likely brought in sleepy drunkards who couldn't walk themselves.
The building itself was a drab, pale stone. Unfinished rock gave it texture, and moss grew on one side, while the other reflected the pale glare of the sun on its salt-caked surface. It sat on a rocky precipice overlooking the crashing sea below.
Voices came from within. One was high-pitched and speaking quickly, while the other was slower and sounded exhausted. As far as I could tell, I was about to interrupt an argument of some sort.
I knocked on the front door.
"Enter," came the slower, more frustrated voice. It sounded like Lady Talia.
I twisted the knob and went in. Lantern light illuminated the place, which was devoid of windows. The place had a stale smell—old beer and feet mixed with seaweed. In front of me, two women stood on either side of an imposing wooden desk.
Lady Talia rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration. She let out a heavy sigh, rolled her eyes, and lifted a finger to me to indicate she needed a second. Her attention was on the figure in front of her.
"I've already given back all of your personal items."
"What about the bag of coin? The gold bracelets? My gold rings? What about all my other stuff?"
A deep violet-skinned woman spoke excitedly. Dark, curved horned protruded from behind her raven-black bangs. She gestured quickly with each short sentence, making her body bounce slightly.
There was a lot to bounce.
"I said I gave you back your personal items. The rest of those belonged to other people."
The purple demon-like woman crossed her arms under her chest, accentuating everything further. She narrowed her eyes in challenge.
"Do you have any proof of your accusation?"
"I know all those items were reported missing around town. I also know this isn't the first time one of my deputies has caught you with someone else's valuables." Lady Talia fixed her with a stern glare. "I hate to do this, Shivai, but I'm giving you your last warning. If you're in here again for theft—even suspicion of theft—I'm shipping you up the coast."
"You can't kick me out of town! I live here!"
"Not if you break the law again. The Northridge constable has already agreed to give you long-term accommodations, plus three square meals while he figures out what to do with you."
"You mean prison?"
"My advice? Find some honest work. There has to be some business in town that could use a helping hand. Now, if you would be so kind, I have more important matters to attend to." The dragonkin looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, Drew. Shivai here was just leaving." She placed both hands on the pile of pilfered items. "With only her things and no one else's."
"Hmph!"
The slender, busty young woman slid past me in a huff. Her lip curled in disgust from her interaction with Lady Talia, and I caught a hint of sharp fangs behind her soft, full lips. The lingering scent of smoke and lavender traced after her.
And because I’m a red-blooded American male, I reflexively turned my head to watch her leave. A slim, spaded tail whipped angrily behind her perfect, firm ass.
"Be careful with that one," Lady Talia said, bringing me back to the moment. "She's a scoundrel. Somewhere behind the layers of deceit, I'm pretty sure she has a heart of gold. Unfortunately, nobody has seen much of it since she was a child."
"Is she a tiefling?"
"A what?"
"Tiefling. Like, part demon?"
Lady Talia's brows bunched up in confusion. "Yes, she's demonkin. I've never heard that word before, though. Tiefling. Is that from your lands?"
"You could say that." I shrugged. She didn't need to know it was from a game I played.
"Well, whatever. Come on back to the cells. The nimrods are waiting to see you."
Her sword lay in a scabbard on a shelf behind her. Next to it, a shorter dagger weighed down a handful of parchments as a paperweight. She grabbed it, then snatched a heavy iron ring with a few keys attached from a hook on the wall.
She motioned for me to follow her as she headed toward a heavy wooden door at the far end of the room. It unlocked with a dull, metallic clunk, then swung inward.
The hallway was dark, dank, and dour. A wash of cold, clammy air came from within. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out several small cells, all stone and metal bars. A few of them were empty.
A few were not.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the smart-mouth bartender. Just the guy we was hoping to see."
I recognized the growling cadence of Buckshank's voice. It was joined by two others who sneered and taunted me. The human and orc pirates both approached the front of their cells, gripping the metal bars in their hands. They leered at me with black teeth and yellow tusks.
"Yeah. Buckshank wanted to thank you for giving us a reason to visit this little shithole again sooner rather than later," the human said.
"Now we can collect more than protection fees," the orc grunted.
"He means he’ll collect on your life," the human teased.
"He knows that, you idiots!" Buckshank snapped.
I nodded. "Yeah, I got that." I turned to the constable next to me. "Is it wise for them to make threats on a civilian's life in your presence?"
"It's not against the law. That said, I don't think it would be a good idea for them to return."
"What are you gonna do to stop us? Mount another feeble attempt at restoring justice? Get more law officers hurt? Endanger the people of this backwards little port town?" Buckshank spat. A little dribble of spit stuck to his lip. The rest spattered on the stone floor below.
Lady Talia's eyes narrowed, flashing an angry shade of amber. "I dare you to do that again."
Buckshank spat again. Twice. The other pirates followed suit. For a few seconds, the entire jail was filled with the echoing sounds of three grown men spitting and throwing a petulant tantrum.
"You know we don't let prisoners out until their cells are clean, right?"
The spitting stopped.
I chuckled. "Is that a real policy?"
"Absolutely. It keeps the riffraff from making too big of a mess unless they really want to stick around for a while." The constable flashed me a quick grin. She turned back to the pirates. "So keep spitting if you want to stay locked up. Go ahead and shit yourselves for all I care."
I was relieved when they didn't take her up on the offer. Instead, Buckshank thrust a stubby, hairy finger toward my chest, poking it through the metal bars.
"We'll be out soon. And when we come back, we're bringing the Black Ship Raiders' best enforcer with us. Your little inn is done for."
Lady Talia took a slight step back in surprise. A brief moment of concern flashed across her features before she schooled her face back to neutrality.
"I look forward to serving you again," I said.
With that, the two of us left the pirates to their misery. The constable locked the door behind us and eased herself back behind the safety of her desk. She sat in the thick wooden seat and shook her head.
"I don't like the sound of that."
"What, the thing about their best enforcer?"
"Yeah. They tell stories about him. The Dreaded Pirate Robertson. Nobody knows his real identity. The only people who've seen him and lived describe a horrible masked brute, and they still have nightmares to this day."
Why did that sound familiar? It wasn’t from our campaign.
I grimaced. "I'm sorry again for making trouble for Seaport. You have my word that I'll do whatever I can to keep this town safe."
Her look softened. "I believe you, Drew. And I won't underestimate what you can do, even if you may not have my training or knowledge about this world. You might consider learning to hold a sword properly, though, so long as you’ll stick around here."
“Is that an offer to teach me?”
“I’d consider it.”
“What about magic? Can that be taught? I used to play a wizard.”
“... Huh?”
She looked as confused by that statement as you’d expect. I had to stop making vague TTRPG references as though they meant anything here. Maybe my intelligence score was lower than I’d thought.
“Nevermind. Uh. I used to play chess with a wizard.” I hoped that chess was a thing here. If not, it was just one more thing to mark me as extra foreign. "Anything else you need from me?"
She shook her head. "No, but I should have asked you to bring a drink. I could use one after today."
"Constable, it's still morning."
"I know. Maybe I'll be by after work. Save a seat for me?"
"Right at the bar. Best seat in the house," I said, winking.
“And, um. You don’t have to call me constable. You know my name.”
“Just Talia?”
“That’s my middle name. My first name is Lady. Lady Talia Emberyx.”
“Oh. This whole time, I thought you were insisting on an honorific. I was like, that’s so uptight.”
She snorted and covered her mouth. “No, I get it. It sounds, um, strict. And it doesn’t help that dragonkin culture is notoriously proud. Some of my friends call me Talia, though.”
“Are we friends?”
“Let’s stick with Lady Talia for now. Nothing personal. Nicknames just sound weird to me.”
She hadn’t actually answered the question about whether she thought we were friends. It was time to turn up the old wry bartender charm to max using an Earth cliche. “I didn’t hear a no.”
“Are you leaving Wynnie back at the Breakwater to work alone? Shouldn’t you be prepping drinks or something?”
I smirked as I turned to leave. “Still not a no.”
She smiled in return, then grumbled something before turning to the stack of parchments behind her. She made an exaggerated show of reading the text intently, like she was making a point of ignoring me.
Methinks the Lady Talia doth protest too much, or whatever. Nobody cared about paperwork that much.
As the door to the jail closed behind me, I thought I felt the dragonkin's eyes follow me out. Perhaps I was just imagining it, but the sensation was uncanny. And it wasn’t a creepy, dangerous feeling, either. Just curious. Appraising. Tentatively appreciative.
Something had changed between us. My heart skipped a beat when I remembered she’d asked me to save a seat for her at the bar. If that wasn’t a friends thing, it was close, at least.