《The Blunderbuss Chronicles: Jon The Farmer》Book 5: Chapter 11

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“Bastards,” Tallow drew her dagger. “I’m gonna prod some information out of these losers! I”m done being nice. Mercy?”

She tossed Mercy the dagger. She caught it.

Mercy sighed. “Sure. There’s probably a better way-”

“No!” Mallory raised his hand speaking in between breaths. “King’s Guard don’t… torture people…”

“We’re not King’s Guard,” Tallow replied, “we can do whatever we want.”

“Don’t… for Hector… they’re normal… normal… normal…”

“If you’re gonna cry about it…” Tallow hoisted Mallory onto her back. “Fine.”

“I could-” Mercy started.

“Nope!” Mercy said. “Stop doing that!”

She then began to carry a limping Malloy out of the alleyway.

“Are you okay?” Mercy asked as she and Jon began to walk after them.

“Yeah,” he said, “but Tallow’s angry.”

“It should be fine,” Mercy said. “I’m sure she’s just wondering where Hector is.

Hector was still laughing with Helia at the downstairs table when the inn door opened and Mallory was dragged in.

The smile on his face disappeared quickly. “Mallory!”

He ran over to his friend as fast as he could.

“What happened?” Hector said, “he-”

“While you were off snogging with your little girlfriend!” Tallow said, “your friend was being attacked by a street gang, and a very powerful spellcaster!”

“Moderately!” Mallory raised his hand, exasperated. “He’s not as good as Liz!”

Tallow tossed Mallory onto one of the smaller tables, his back strewn across the top of it while his feet hung off the side.

Hector looked at Jon. “I thought I told you to check up on him.”

Jon was gonna respond when Tallow cut him off, pushing her finger into Hector’s chest. There was a different effect, since he still wasn’t wearing his armor.

“He did,” Tallow said. “That’s the only reason he’s alive!”

Jon didn’t think that was completely factual. He tried to explain himself when Tallow cut him off again.

“Don’t touch him!” she said, pointing to Helia, who was in the midst of helping up Mallory sit up. “I think you’ve done enough!”

“I didn’t do anything,” Helia said. “What happened to him?”

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Hector said, placing himself in between them.

“Oh, you like her now?” Tallow asked. “After all the fuss of not wanting to bring people around, and now, you’re screwing the damn girl, and none of it matters!”

“Screwing?” Hector was more puzzled than angry. “I’m not screwing-”

“Let’s give it a rest, Tallow,” Mercy said, grabbing onto Tallow’s shoulders calmly. “Just... come upstairs.”

“No!” Tallow swatted away Mercy’s hands and turned to her. “This isn’t right! What happened to all of you guys! It’s like you all turned pussy after everything that happened!”

“What do you mean?” Mercy said. “I thought things were better.”

“You used to be about something!” Tallow said. “And now, you’re just drained! Nerfed! Castrated! Enervated! Whatever words they use!”

“I…” Mercy frowned. “Aren’t you glad we get along?”

“I am!” Tallow said. “Just not when… when…”

“It’s fine, Tallow.” Mallory, with Helia’s help, was able to sit up again. “No one failed me. I just used a new spell.. in the middle of the battle.”

“On a mission?” Hector was dumbfounded. “Mallory, that’s careless. You don’t make calls like that! You could have put someone in danger!”

“I know I don’t usually do that,” Mallory said, stretching his back. “But, you know… I’m sort of tired of being weak. Having to be chaperoned, you know?”

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He cracked his neck. “Everyone's changing. So, I have to change too.”

“Therein seems to be the problem,” Tallow said probably. “All you nitwits changed. Except for Jon.”

“Jon’s changed!” Mercy said. “And I thought you liked how things were going!”

“If you go back home the way you are now,” Tallow said, “they’re just gonna swallow you up, chew you around, and spit you out like a piece of oxtail!”

“...Probably,” Mercy said, bowing her head in shame.”

“Ugh! Forget it! Guess I have to the dramatic one!” Tallow sighed. “Screw it, I’m sleeping with the doofus. At dumb as he is, at least he makes sense. You guys can figure out the rooms yourselves.”

Tallow walked to the stairs. She was halfway up before she stopped.

“Let it be known, I did not mean it in that way,” she added, before continuing upstairs.

There was silence in the downstairs inn for some time. Everyone just looked away awkwardly.

“Sorry,” Hector said to Mercy.

“I’m not mad,” Mercy told him. “You were keeping first watch. We did reconnaissance without you, and I think Tallow’s just mad because we came back and you looked so happy.”

“Is that a problem?” Hector asked.

“No. Not at all. She’s just not used to…”

Mercy scratched her arm awkwardly. “I think I need to go upstairs… and think for a while. Good night.”

She went to the stairs and walked up without a word to anyone else.

“Is everyone really that worried about me?” Mallory asked. “It’s Jon you guys should be worried about.”

“Yeah, but you’re the smart one,” Hector said. “You should be making all the right decisions. You make the right ones and I make the wrong ones.”

“I make guesses, just like anyone,” Mallory said after some consideration. “And honestly, I didn’t think I’d be half as good at guessing if it wasn’t for you.”

He got off of the table. “I’ll be okay. Sorry about everything.”

He waddled to the staircase.

“Shouldn’t you eat?” Hector asked. “Mana deprivation or whatever?.”

“I’m not hungry,” Mallory said, quickly running upstairs.

Now, that just left Jon, Helia, and Hector again.

“Crap…” Hector put his hands on his head. “This was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t!” Helia tried to grab Hector’s hand, but he pulled away.

“You can’t just close yourself off because you feel bad!” Helia said.

“Yeah, whatever.” Hector walked over to the staircase as well. “I can close myself off whenever I want.”

However, he only made it a few steps up before he stopped and turned to Jon.

Jon realized that Hector was silently waiting for Jon to tell him what to do.

“Talk to her…” Jon finally said after much musing.

Hector looked at Helia, who came to his side and hugged him.

“You’re staying in the room with me tonight,” she said.

“Sure,” Hector responded, his expression not giving away any hint of what he felt other than tired.

They walked upstairs together.

Now, Jon was alone by himself downstairs with a half-full pitcher of ale.

He sat back down next to the ale, just relishing the idea of being alone for a time.

Seeing that there was nothing better to do, Jon grabbed the pitcher and poured it into an empty cup.

He sat with the cup next to him, just waiting and calmly taking in the area around him, thinking about what he had just told Hector.

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Talk to her…

Jon didn’t know exactly what he had just cosigned on. It was as if he had given Hector permission. To do something.

I’m not his boss…

I’m not his father...

Jon thought about what Luther had told him about having to keep his friends under control. Was that what he meant? Telling people what they could or couldn’t do?

That was Hector’s job, wasn’t it?

After some more thoughts about Hector, Jon realized that Hector didn’t want to be in charge. That was the whole idea of not wanting to marry Amalia.

Does he want to be told what to do? Jon then realized the absurdity of the situation. Hector didn’t want to be in charge, and everyone else was telling him that he had to be in charge.

He groaned, then he took a sip of the ale.

It wasn’t horrible, but the taste was plain and unappealing. It was a sad drink to consume, and Jon wondered why people would try to drink it when they weren’t sad. He remembered the drink Graves gave him back at the Townsend. It had burned his chest and woke him up a bit.

Better…

He ruminated more about the power dynamics within the group, something he never thought about in such a distinct way.

Am I supposed to be in charge, then?

Jon didn’t want to be in charge, but was he supposed to? Was he supposed to take over for Hector when he finally settled in with ruling a kingdom?

In that case, Jon would have to take the lead, like it or not.

After realizing what a bummer of a situation that was, Jon decided that he was done ruminating on such tiring things. He was getting ready to head up for the night when he noticed that someone was standing above him.

He was so taken that he failed to get out of his seat.

Standing over him was an incredibly tired-looking young man with short-pitched black hair and an incredibly bored demeanor. He wore large furry shoulder pads with horns pointing out of them from either side on top of his bare arms. Underneath the pads was a black leather vest that he wore over his bare chest, which was tattooed.

He also had black marks on his face, two on each side, but Jon didn’t know if it was tattooed as well or if they were painted. The dim light wasn’t helping him figure that out.

Jon felt a bit of trepidation, afraid to get into another fight, especially inside of a building. He had learned that if someone was dressed up enough to stick out in the world, they probably knew how to fight. He didn’t like messing up people’s homes and businesses, and in this case, Hector said he was low on money, so he wouldn’t have been able to compensate the business owners for the damages.

“Are you gonna finish that?” the man asked, pointing to the pitcher.

Jon shook his head. “No.”

“Then can I?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, simply picking up the pitcher by the hand turning around. As he slunk slowly away from the table, he tossed his head back and started drinking straight from the side of the pitcher. He kept drinking as he walked up the stairs to the rooms.

Jon was confused, but he wasn’t necessarily alarmed.

Deciding that there was nothing wrong, he stood up, returned the empty cups and pitcher to the inn counter, and traveled upstairs.

When he was on the next floor, he saw the young man hunched over, his head leaning in front of one of the doors opposite of the rooms where Jon’s friends were.

His head seemed to be the only thing keeping him up.

“Open up, sis!” he yelled. “Open up!!!”

Jon walked forward and reached past the man, turning the knob and pushing the door slightly open. He braced the man so that he wouldn’t fall over.

“Thanks, man…” he said, giving Jon a big smile and a thumbs-up before entering the door.

“Stupid-bitch!” He suddenly said, turning inside the room before shutting it closed.

Jon didn’t know what to make of it, so he just traveled to the first of three rooms that Hector had rented out.

When he got close, he heard giggling from what sounded like Helia.

“Shut, up!” Tallow’s shout carried through the door adjacent to the one Jon stood at.

That was the room that Stewart was sleeping in, so Jon was assured that Tallow made good on her promise.

He went to the third door and saw it was slightly open.

“Come in, Jon!” Mercy said.

Jon nodded and stepped in.

Mallory and Mercy were sitting on the floor, fully dressed, and across from each other. They were clearly having conversation when Jon came.

Mallory gestured to the space in front of him. “Join us, if you want.”

Jon nodded and accepted the gesture, sitting down next to Mallory and bracing his back on the side of the bed.

“We were just going over logistics about what happened tonight,” Mallory explained. “From what we can tell, those bandit guys were hired by one egotistical group in order to find Helia and Stewart, and when that failed, they were hired by another egotistical group to report on what happened and keep up the search.

Mercy picked up afterward.

“We figured out they were egotistical because whoever hired them gave them the same color jacket to denote their service,” she said. “I do admit, I would have liked to have taken off one of their jackets and do a thorough analysis.”

She avoided a raised eyebrow from Mallory. “But priorities.”

Jon nodded. He was still a little tired, so it was hard for him to follow everything that he was being told.

“We know they’re working for the purple guy now,” Mallory said, “‘casue he’s wearing purple, and no one wears that much purple like that if they don’t think they’re the shit.”

“And whoever was their boss before wanted them to wear black.” Mercy said, “but black’s a generic color. And we don’t if that person wears black, or if they just like people who work for them to dress in black.”

Jon agreed. A lot of people seemed to be wearing black these days. At least he thought so. He couldn’t think straight.

“The question is,” Mercy said, “is that are these guys competing or are they aligned in their goals?”

“Either way, their goals are the siblings,” Mallory responded.

“Twins…” Jon corrected.

“Twins?” Mallory raised his eyebrow. “They’re twins?”

Jon nodded. He didn’t know why it was important to say. He just felt like saying it.

“Twins,” he repeated.

“Okay.” Mallory nodded. “What about that notice they had? I know you said it was legitimate, but was there anything funny about it?”

“It seemed old,” Mercy said. “Forgeries are nearly impossible, but I don’t see why they would anyway. It’s nearly impossible to cross the mountains without being invited in, so I don’t think they’re lying about that. Anyone guarding it would know to expect them, and if not, nothing good would come of them going.”

“...It is old,” Jon said. He didn’t know why he said that either. He was just moving on instinct.

“The invitation?” Mallory asked.

Jon nodded. “They didn’t go because… she was gonna get married. But… they went… because she was going to get married…”

Mallory’s eyes widened with realization. “She’s running away from an engagement! Oh! That explains why she and Hector are…”

Mallory nodded. “Makes complete sense now. He’s not being weird. He’s just being incredibly normal.”

Mercy sighed.

“Too normal…” Mercy commented. “But that maybe explains why they were being chased in the first place.”

“They live with Lysenthia…” Jon continued. “They were… they were…”

Jon had trouble continuing.

“Jon?” Mallory raised his eyebrow in concern. “Are you okay man?”

“They were… Hector was gonna talk to… Lysenthia… to stop… marriage.”

Jon coughed and covered his mouth. “Talking.”

He was losing track of his thoughts.

“Lysenthia’s land.” Mallory snapped his fingers. “That makes sense!”

“What makes sense?” Mercy asked.

“He’s a vizard!” Mallory said. “Yeah! He’s probably assisting some lord or something! He’s in charge of bringing back Helia.”

“A vizard?” Mercy repeated. “What does he do?”

“He’s a respected advisor who’s usually trained in mana spellcasting,” Mallory continued. “Not everyone has one, but it’s one of the reasons many people get sent off to mana school. Major always joked with me that Luther was training me up to become one to send me away.”

“Was Major a vizard?” Mercy said.

“Hah, no!” Mallory gave a small chuckle. “I mean, they tried, and I mean, Luther really tried. But she’s such a powerful spellcaster that the schools want to keep her by to help their reputation. That’s what she’s doing now, and Luther doesn’t know what to make of it. It’s quite hilarious to watch a man like him lost for words.”

“Mmmm…” Jon tried to respond, but now he could barely put words together.

He leaned his head back so that it was on the cushion, and from there, he fell asleep.

“Stop… talking!”

The yell woke Jon up. He sat up to see that he was still sitting where he’d fallen asleep next to the bed.

He turned around and saw that Mallory was asleep behind him.

He then looked at the other bed to see that the sheets had been taken off, with only the pillow left behind.

Outside.

Jon turned to the window.

It was still nighttime, so Jon hadn’t been asleep for too long.

Jon peeked his head out of the window and looked up. He could already hear speaking from the roof.

It was easy enough to climb up to the top. Mercy and Tallow had brought both of their sheets to lay down on the roof. In Tallow’s case, she had also brought her pillow.

“There he is,” Tallow said. “Nosy as always.”

“Concerned,” Jon said.

Tallow rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry, no more outburst from me,” she said. “I’ll try to be more… sane.”

Jon nodded and grimace. He really didn’t mind at this point.

“You look really tired, Jon,” Mercy said. “You should get some rest. We’re keeping watch like we told Hector we would.”

She removed herself from her blanket and handed it to Jon.

“We can share,” Mercy said.

“We can share?” Tallow repeated, after realizing it was meant for her. After a hopeful look from Mercy, Tallow sighed and moved to make extra room on her blanket.

Jon nodded again, then took the sheets from Mercy.

Mercy sat next to Tallow, and Jon climbed back into the room with the sheets in tow.

He should have been more scared, but he had been on top of so many roofs it didn’t really concern him as much anymore. He dragged the sheets into the bed with himself, dropping himself onto the pillow and fully going to sleep.

When he awoke again in the morning, he sat up and held his head. It felt like it was stirring from being shaken up too much.

He groaned as he covered his eyes from the sunlight that shone directly into his face.

Past his arms, he could see Mallory sitting up in the opposite bed with his back to the wall. He still looked incredibly tired, even though the last Jon saw him he was asleep in bed.

“Hi, Jon,” Mallory said with a grim smile. “How are you?”

“What happened?” Jon asked, aware that not much could have happened between the time he slept and the time he woke up.

“Can I be honest with you, Jon?” Mallory asked.

Jon nodded. Wasn’t much else he could say.

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