Chapter 1 - Debts

  Present Day

  “And I haven’t stopped drinking since!” Cal exclaimed loudly to the newcomers at the tavern. It was the middle of autumn and Cal was celebrating. He’d gone a whole day without owing someone new, something that he didn’t want to owe them.

  Of course that was at the beginning of the drinking. Now that he had a tab and no way of paying it, it was a different story, but he was already too deep to back out of the challenge of drinking himself to death now. Maybe now he was instead commiserating the fact that he’d failed again?

  “So you just do odd jobs, get paid then spend all that money on booze?” One of the taverns other patrons asked, giving him an incredulous look.

  “Well I get food as well.” Cal admitted, “but it’s mostly the drink.

  “Seems like a sad life,” another patron replied, pity in their tone.

  “Honestly,” Cal replied sitting forward. “5 months ago I would have said the same thing.”

  “Yeah? What happened?” The first patron asked.

  Cal looked to him and he paused as images flashed through his mind. Blood. A broken leg. Flashing Jaws.

  “Who says something happened?” Cal asked sobering up somewhat.

  “Well you don’t change your outlook on life for no reason.” The patron pressed.

  “Maybe I just realised how easy it would be to make myself happy and went with it.” Cal countered.

  The man raised an incredulous brow but shook his head. “Nah, someone as young as you doesn’t become a drunk unless something bad happens.”

  Cal glared at him for a long moment and asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Fently.” The man said. “This is Grum.”

  The second patron raised a confused brow at ‘Fently’. Aliases then. Probably not because they were looking for Cal. Probably just because he was a drunk and they didn’t want to risk giving him their names. But that didn’t mean he had to risk staying with them.

  Cal stared at them for a long moment, his mind spinning, trying to process what he’d just decided and figure out a way to execute it. He then sat back in his chair, breathing out. “This is getting tense!” He announced. “That’s not why we drink.” He turned in his seat and pushed himself up, wobbling a little. “I need more booze.”

  He wandered away and up to the bar. There were a few others up there waiting to be served by the tavern’s one bartender, which confused Cal because he was sure there’d been more than one, and a longer bar… maybe that was the previous nights tavern.

  It barely mattered, he just waited for the bartender to come over. “I’ll take a tall oak ale, thanks.” Cal said as soon as the bar tender arrived.

  The man placed his hands on the bar and leaned forward. “You’ve had enough, Cal.” He said.

  Cal looked at him in horror. “That can’t be true.” He declared.

  “You’re wasted.”

  “I’m always wasted. What’s your point.” Cal grumbled.

  The bartender sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, okay, you’re not my problem. Tall oak Ale?”

  Cal nodded, swaying slightly.

  The bartender looked behind the bar, pulled out a note book and paused, frowning at it. He looked Cal up and down and Cal knew where this was going. “You need to pay for your tab before I get you another drink.”

  “What? Why?” Cal demanded. “The point of a tab is so I don’t have to worry about that until the end of the night. I’m still enjoying the night, don’t sully it with money.”

  “Cal; you’re almost two queens deep after last week, and - no offence - you don’t look like you can pay it.” The bar tender replied.

  “Well that’s rude.” Cal frowned, swaying backwards and stumbling into the chair. “I am very much offended. I had fully intended to pay.”

  “That’s fine, and you can keep drinking just as soon as you’ve proven that you can pay.”

  Cal let out a sigh of frustration and reached into his satchel, pulling out his coin bag. He dropped it onto the bar and it spilled out. A half dozen princes and a few sants came rolling out. The Bartender looked up at Cal, a flat look on his face. “That’s all you’ve got?”

  “I already gave you-”

  “You gave us twenty princes, you’ve drunk and eaten ten times that. More actually.” The bartender said, starting to raise his voice. “Cal, you better hand over the money or something worth that much now or-”

  A pair of coins bounced onto the bar. Two gold ones with the face of a noble elvish woman on them - Queens. Cal looked over his shoulder to where the coins had come from and his brows rose.

  Four men, all wearing basic leathers and cloaks. One of them had a bulge on their side that Cal was fairly certain was a baton on his belt. Those two men- Fently and Grum - might not have been debt collectors, but these four were. “Evening lads.” Cal said to them grinning. “Appreciate the help.” He turned back to the bartender, who’d gone from angry to worried, paling slightly. “Can I get that drink now.”

  The bartender looked to the debtors, “Don’t worry about our friend here, he’s had enough.” One of them said in a gruff voice that was clearly trying to feign charisma. “We’ll make sure he gets home. Hope that lot was enough to pay his tab.”

  “Well actually, its too much, we owe you-”

  “Keep it.” The same man said, “call it an apology for our friend.”

  “Or add it to my tab for my next round.” Cal suggested.

  One of the men grabbed under his arm and forced him to his feet, making him sigh - he wasn’t getting another round. He didn’t fight it. They’d paid for his drinks after all, he owed them a conversation at least.

  “All right, Lads, where we going?” Cal asked, stumbling and letting them keep him up. Some of the patrons watched him go - he winked at Fently - but they likely just saw a drunk being taken to sober up, not a man in terrible debt being taken to get that money back.

  They led him out of the tavern - which, as Cal left, he discovered was called the Gilded Goblin - and along the street to the nearest alley. As they reached it the one holding Cal pushed him in. Cal stumbled a few steps then fell over into a pile of trash, before toppling off of it into a puddle of water.

  He groaned as the cold water splashed against his face clearing his mind, if only slightly. “By the dawn, guys, this isn’t my room, my room is the trash heap three alleyways over.” He joked, forcing himself to his feet and stumbling shakily back.

  “Cal, this isn’t a joke. This is your last chance to pay us what you owe us. Alaren isn’t going to be happy if we come back with neither his money nor your hands.” One of the debtors told him. Cal thought he recognised the voice, but he was too drunk to place it. Most likely the man was someone he'd dealt with at the Circle.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  If these men worked for Alaren, then they were all members of the circle - or the ‘within’ as the pretentious amongst them called themselves. The nation’s most powerful and diverse crime organisation. Alaren was a shadow, a local leader. He wasn’t someone to trifle with, but then Cal had never been good at judging the people who were good to trifle with.

  Also he could go for trifle.

  “Well I don’t have the money, and I like my hands… so…” Cal replied, stumbling to a wall and using it to keep him standing. “I guess you go screw yourselves and tell Alaren to eat a-”

  “Enough.” The debtor sighed. “We make an example of you then.” He looked to the others and nodded. “Kill him. Make it look like it hurt.”

  “That escalated incredibly quickly.” Cal noted as two of the four men cockily stepped forward. Cal was still blinking, getting his eyesight under control when the first one reached him. He swung a fist and it slammed into the right side of Cal’s face, knocking him sideways and back onto the floor, splattering in the water.

  “This is going to be easy.” The man rumbled, stretching his neck to the side and cracking his knuckles.

  Cal coughed and pushed himself up on his knees. “Gods, I wish you’d stop throwing me in the water, it’s sobering me up.” He said.

  The man kicked him in the back, forcing him forward onto his hands and knees to avoid going back into the puddle, and then followed up with another kick to the side while he was down, flipping Cal over onto his back.

  “Come on drunk, get back up.” The other debtor was saying. “This ain’t no fun if you don’t at least try.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want it to be not fun now would we.” Cal sighed and forced himself back to his feet, stumbling a little, but getting there. He stumbled to face them, still grinning, though there was blood in his mouth now.

  As he turned the first debtor lunged at him again with his a heavy swing from the right. This time though Cal didn’t just let it hit him. He dodged his head back and slapped the hand along with his left hand, while simultaneously darting in and swinging his right in an uppercut that connected cleanly with the man’s gut. He coughed and spittle burst free from his lips as Cal knocked the wind out of him.

  He stumbled back a step while the debtor was immobilised and lunged forward, bringing his knee up to connect hard with the man’s face, knocking him over backwards.

  There was a pregnant pause as they all stared at the drunk and the fallen man.

  “Can’t say I’m not a good host.” Cal chuckled. “Who’s nex-”

  The next debtor cracked Cal across the jaw, knocking him back a few paces. He followed up with a quick left then a right, which Cal blocked and dodged before swinging his head forward in the resulting gap and butting him in the face.

  “Agh! Goblin nuts!” The debtor said, stumbling to the side clutching his face as the next one darted past him. Cal was starting to get the debtors confused in his head. The one who hadn’t attacked yet was the leader, he had the baton, Cal decided to just call him Baton. The one on the floor was the most eager, he could play the role of idiot. The one clutching his face was over protective, he could be Big Brother. As Cal was distracted trying to name his attackers - he had paused and was pointing at them each in turn - the last of the four grabbed him by the shoulder and swung his knee up into his gut, forcing him to wretch from the sudden assault.

  Cal decided to call him Wretch.

  Cal grabbed wretch’s leg as he was bent over it and stood up hard and fast, taking the leg in an ankle lock and flipping him on his front.

  As he landed Cal swung his leg back to kick wretch between the legs but he was thrown aside as Big Brother regained his composure and slammed into him. Cal was thrown into the wall and very briefly stunned as the back of his head hit the bricks. He caught back up to the speed of the world just in time to avoid a stomping kick from Big Brother that hit the wall right next to Cal’s chest.

  Grabbing the leg under his arm, Cal kicked Big Brother’s other leg out from under him, stepped over him and stomped down on his face, breaking his nose - if he hadn’t already broken it with his head-butt.

  He threw the leg down and looked around just in time to see Idiot had gotten back to his feet and was leaping towards him. Cal was able to brace himself so he wasn’t thrown to the floor but Idiot managed to grab him by the shoulders and hold him in place. Cal grabbed him back, trying to break his hold, but Idiot was surprisingly good at grappling.

  Instead of pushing forward, Cal leapt up and placed his feet on the Idiot’s belly, letting him fall to the floor and roll backwards. Cal kicked as his back hit the wet ground and sent Idiot flying up and over him, causing him to lose his grip. Cal release him and rolled onto his front, pushing himself up.

  As soon as he was up, however, he was back down again. He didn’t even really feel it, but he was lying face down in the puddle and the back of his head felt hot and wet.

  Evidently, Baton had joined the fight.

  Cal felt one of the others - he thought it was Big Brother because of the sniffling noises - grab him by the arms and pull him to his feet, arms held behind his back.

  As he was pulled up his hair flopped over his face, obscuring his vision. He tried to pull free, but Big Brother had a good grip on him this time. A hand wiped across his face and pushed the hair out of his eyes. It was Baton, grinning. Cal did recognise him, he’d been the one to introduce Cal to Alaren. Cal had beaten him at cards - yes, Cal had cheated, but Baton had been cheating as well.

  Baton grinned at Cal, a few teeth missing from his smile that Cal was fairly sure were there before. “The mighty adventurer Cal… fallen so far since his time with the Black Blades.”

  Cal spat to the side, the blood was filling his mouth too quickly to keep it there. “Piss off.” He said, the mention of his mentor’s mercenary troupe angering him… no… it didn’t anger him it made him feel shame that he was far too sober to feel.

  Idiot punched him in the right of the face. Almost hard enough to knock him out. Probably would have if he wasn’t numb from the ‘sauce’. Big Brother hoisted him up again, “Now, now.” He said. “Play nice.”

  Baton stepped to the side of Cal, brandishing his namesake. “I’d like to say this isn’t going to hurt, but that’s the plan so I’d be lying.” He swung the baton into Cal’s belly doubling him over and sending blood spattering onto the alley floor. He swung again, upwards this time into Cal’s face. He was able to turn his head slightly to catch less of the baton’s surface on the side of his face, but it still hurt as his head cracked backwards.

  Idiot took a turn, punching him in the face and belly, then kicking at his legs. One after the next each of them took a go, and he just let them. He probably could have gotten out of it if he’d wanted to but… he had so much apathy that it was harder to stop them from hurting him than it was to take the pain. Punching, kicking, using the baton and other things. When they stopped and Big Brother threw Cal on the floor he was pretty sure that he was going to die if he didn’t do anything.

  A part of him didn’t mind the idea.

  He was so tired… it seemed like a good idea to get some rest.

  Baton stepped over Cal, one leg either side of him. “Well Cal, this was fun, but… well we’ve got other places to be.”

  “Get Out!” Chell’s words and her expression came flashing back to him. The movement of her lips when he couldn’t hear her, it all moved together in his mind and told him that he couldn’t die. Not yet.

  Cal raised a hand towards baton… or, that’s what he tried to do, but it didn’t move. His eyes widened as he looked sideways at his arm, Idiot was standing on it. To his right Big Brother was holding down his other arm and Wretch was holding his legs. Cal struggled, trying to get at least one limb free, but nothing happened.

  He looked up at Baton again. “I love the look in a man’s eyes when he realises he’s going to die.”

  Baton raised his weapon above his head and-

  “Enough!” It was a woman’s voice. One Cal recognised, but that he hadn’t heard in… well a long time.

  Cal groaned involuntarily.

  Baton looked up the alleyway and Cal followed his gaze. Standing at the end of the alleyway was an elvish woman with long blonde hair. Parts of it were tied in braids, but it was mostly left to do as it pleased.

  She was wearing dark leather trousers held up by a belt. They weren’t tight, she had room to move and there were openings at the knees that revealed red breeches, a light fabric that let the air in. The lower half of the trousers were covered by her knee high black boots which had long cuffs and several thin metal armour plates that were kept on by buckles.

  If the leathers and boots weren’t enough to make her look like a pirate the patterned red vest, barely buttoned blouse and beautiful long black coat, lined with more red silk and accented with what looked like brass skulls certainly finished off the look. Skulls were certainly her aesthetic, she even had an odd triangular skull amulet dangling from her chest. On her left wrist she wore a single leather cuff with a skull and on her belt - which had a skull buckle - she carried a longsword, thicker than Cal’s but just as deadly. Cal also noticed that she had a holster for a revolver, but didn’t seem to be carrying one - though it did have a bronze skull on it’s side.

  Though his vision was impaired by the booze and the beating, Cal knew that the woman was very beautiful, especially her eyes which were as green as the Viridian Expanse. As beautiful as they were though Cal could picture the expression they would be making - glaring furiously at the debtors, or disappointedly at him - and that sullied their appeal somewhat. He also knew she was over a hundred-and-fifty, liked boats, was tremendously annoying, and loved money.

  How he knew this when he couldn’t see her was because he knew her, very well.

  “Hey Cap.” Cal called.

  “We’re not on the ship, shorty.” The woman called back.

  “Sorry, ‘Meliana’. And I’m pretty sure I’m taller than you now.”

  “Only physically. You’ll always be emotionally and skillially shorter than me.”

  “Not a real word, Mels.”

  “Liana if you need to shorten it.”

  “Right, right.”

  “Excuse me, we’re a bit busy here, so I’m going to have to ask you to piss off.” Baton said the last bit through gritted teeth and anger. Meliana started walking down the alleyway and Baton looked down at Cal who was grinning. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” He growled. It was the last thing Cal heard before the Baton cracked him across the temple and he lost consciousness.

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