The Mercenaries’ Tale – 2.06 Mingling Mercs

There was some time to spare before they were due to meet Annie and her crew so the mercs undertook all the little tasks they knew were required when embarking on a job; the little everyday things that might not be possible for a while. They cleaned themselves, prepared their equipment and relaxed. Doug utilised his innate talent for materialising alcohol from out of nowhere to produce a four-pack of beers; he availed himself of two and graciously gave his comrades one each.

As the time trickled by, Blaise checked the clock on the wall and eventually announced that it was probably time to move. The mercs grabbed what few possessions they had, left the payment for the villa on the living room coffee table, locked up and left the key under the flower pot next to the door.

The streets of Galmanoc were far emptier later in the afternoon compared with the morning, with the majority of market vendors having closed for the day due to the intense heat driving most people to seek shelter or -better- air conditioning. A few stalls were still open, the ones belonging to disinterested owners with nothing better to do with their time and the keen hagglers looking to pick up the big score the early closers might miss out on. The mercs – having adjusted their attire to best stave off the heat by way of carrying their coat and jacket rather than sweating it out – strolled along the winding streets, heading down the very slight decline towards the lower, more modern sections of Galmanoc. It was like descending a resting animal, one lazily sleeping against a big outcrop of rock.

The monorail was situated on the edge of the city, looking out on the vast desert beyond the city’s boarders. It was the main point of access to the Salmanic pipe network, the station being built into a Salmanic information centre; a lavishly plush building that housed a call centre and a number of offices. It also had a helipad bolted on to the side for those quick trips to the desert that required a more direct route compared to one provided by the meandering tracks that cast out across the sands, connecting all the various relay stations to one another. The exterior of the building gave the impression that it beheld a great purpose, being three storeys tall and having exquisite architecture; intricate archways and impressive stonework dominated its walls and a giant fountain with a mighty glass sculpture of the Salmanic logo sitting outside the entrance. Despite appearances, the building itself wasn’t particularly important, essentially being used to handle customer complaints and to act as an access point for those wishing to visit the pipe network.

The interior was just as fancy as the exterior, Salmanic never missing a chance to rub their wealth into the faces of the general public at every opportunity. The lobby was expansive with marble floors and Roman columns lining the walls. The extravagance of the place was lost on the current visitors though, who had better things to be thinking about than how wealthy their hosts were.

The trio found the other mercenaries taking up space in the waiting area. The Southern Belle was seated next to the Gentleman, the Sniper and the Madman were leaning against a nearby pillar. The Scouse was sitting restlessly on a bin next to the settee slightly removed from the others, well aware that she was merely being tolerated rather than having been fully accepted into the group.

Doug wondered briefly if he should rename himself “Doug the Bastard” to match convention. He decided that actions speak louder than words and he found it more satisfying for others to figure out and declare it (usually at the top of their lungs at the back of his head as he left them in the dust) rather than introduce himself as such and give away the game.

The atmosphere around the group felt strained, the group struggling to find small talk subjects without giving too much away about their true intentions for being in Galmanoc. Annie’s smile looked especially strained as she spoke to the Scouse, Parkinson was wilfully ignoring her, Thad looked as if he was counting ceiling titles in an effort to escape the sensation of treading on eggshells and Tupper was… Tupper.

Annie’s eyes lit up when she saw the trio approach.

“Oh thank Faust, Kate’s here!” She said aloud, causing Blaise to freeze and her eyes to widen in what could only be described as a “what the hell?!” expression. Doug looked over his shoulder in an effort to find this mysterious forth person and only finding an equally confused Gratin.

“Who?” asked Doug as he turned back to face the others. Annie realised her mistake, a flash of panic in her eyes as she tried to keep her faltering grin on her face.

“Ah, well, y’see…”

“You’ve mistaken me for someone else again, haven’t you Annie?” Blaise helpfully offered, her tone firm as she stared fixedly at the Texan. Annie leapt on this little safety line.

“Y-yes! Silly me, ah am terrible ain’t ah? Ah’ve a cousin that looks just like Kate here! It gets so confusin’, you won’t believe!” she desperately lied. Thad leant in and whispered something in Annie’s ear, causing her to become more flustered.

“Blaise! Ah meant to say Blaise! Oh gods, ah’m so sorry!” Annie babbled, her face becoming redder by the second. Blaise clasped a hand to her face and shook her head in embarrassment with a disgruntled sigh. Bewildered by the behaviour of the two ladies, Doug merely shrugged.

“Sure, we’ve all done stuff like that before. I wouldn’t worry about it, love.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from the other mercenaries with the exception of Harper, who merely looked amused by the display. Blaise decided to change the subject as quickly as possible.

“So what’s the plan?” the others turned to the de facto leader of their little group.

“I understand that Salmanic Incorporated will be sending an air shuttle for us within the next hour or so,” was Thad’s reply, “I recommend that we all mingle and get to know one another. I hate those ‘teamwork’ speeches as much as the next person, but we’re all going to be working towards the same thing and I would rather like to get my hands on that generous cash prize Mr Salmanic is so kindly offering us. I don’t want those hopes to be scuppered by people treading on each other’s toes!”

The mingling began in earnest, precluded with heaps of nervous chuckling, awkward pauses and the clearing of throats that is the norm whenever lots of strangers in one room are told to become more acquainted with each other. Humans are excellent at adapting to most situations, but they have not yet developed a means of easily breaking through the awkwardness barrier of stranger-ness to get to the layers of acquaintance beneath and beyond to the deep, juicy, tender flesh of mutual friendship¹. Some people naturally develop linguistic tools to smash through this initial barrier; for instance, Doug had honed inane small talk into a diamond-tipped jack-hammer and made quick work of disarming strangers with a warm smile, a reassuring manner and the ability to subtly project the underlying instinct that it’s better to be this man’s friend rather than his enemy on to people. Doug hefted his conversational jack-hammer in Parkinson’s direction, shaking him by the hand and breaking into dialogue with “So you’re a sniper, eh? How’s that working out for you? What’s the longest distance you’ve ever gotten on a kill, and how did you measure it?”

The sniper retrieved his hand from Doug’s grip, regarding him with as much recognition as one would towards a table lamp or chair. Doug recognised the focused detachment of a man who doesn’t make friends with people because it will only make it harder to kill them one day.

“It’s fine, thank you. 724 metres, and we have tools for measuring that sort of thing now,” came a frank reply before Parkinson turned and walked away, making his way to the other side of the mingling group where Blaise had gravitated towards Annie.

Annie’s behaviour towards Blaise could not be described as anything less than sisterly. She had an arm around the mercenary and was making sure that the others in her party were amiable towards her. Annie noticed Parkinson stalking about and waved him over.

“Parky! You should hear some of the stories Blaise here has from back in the day! She’s quite the shooter!” the Texan babbled, her face beaming with earnestness. Blaise shifted awkwardly, uncomfortable with the attention.

“Annie, I’m not sure here and now is the best time and place,” she muttered, glancing around as though she expected someone to be eavesdropping. The Salmanic people weren’t paying attention to them, the staff consisting of a couple of receptionists on the front desk and some security guards standing next to a door that led deeper into the building.

Annie was about to wave off Blaise’s concerns when Parkinson cut in, eyes ever on the job at hand.

“What did you say to the soldier in the end? Does he know…?” said Parkinson under his breath.

“He knows only what he needs to,” replied Blaise in an equally hushed tone, “I told you I didn’t want him involved. Why, is there going to be a problem?”

The two stared each other down, Blaise holding Parkinson firmly within her gaze as he considered the situation, the sniper glaring unblinkingly back with accusing eyes. It was Annie that eventually answered.

“Ah wouldn’t worry about Parky, darlin’. He’s just never held water with them PSF fly-boy types. Something about an unfortunate encounter at a demonstration back when he was still just a kid. Ah think he can suck it up for a day or so though, this being a time for professionalism and all, right Allan?” the smile Annie shot at Parkinson was so sickly sweet that those it was aimed at were at risk of contracting diabetes. Those that knew how to read Annie however – which Blaise did – knew that there was an underlying message to it which was simply “and if you can’t then trouble is bound to occur in your vicinity”. That was the thing about Annie, she was a lady through and through but the moment you did something that disagreed with her she wouldn’t hesitate to bring it to your attention.

Parkinson merely huffed at Annie.

“I’ll be fine so long as he realises I have no interest in being pals,” the sniper muttered to Blaise. She couldn’t criticise this attitude; it was one she regularly employed herself. Annie seemed satisfied enough with the answer.

“Now that’s cleared up, what have you been up to since you branched off on your lonesome and became the big bad mercenary? You must have some interesting tales from your new line of work if you don’t wanna talk about the old?”

“Well we did just come off a job recently that became rather interesting…”

Doug had been left with an unimpressed Harper who remained in a sour mood after her little confrontation with Thad. She shot the gentlemen a dirty look as she let out a scoff of derision.

“He makes this whole thing sound like a soddin’ business retreat, he does. What does he expect us to do? Stand around in a circle and tell everyone our names and something about ourselves? ’Ello, I’m Jess and I like to hit people in the face until they stop objecting?” She complained with a roll of her eyes.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who thinks he’s a bit of a prat,” offered Doug as he peered over at the gentleman in question, Thad currently attempting to converse with Gratin to mixed results, “Still, no harm in getting to know the people you’re going to be working with.”

“Yeah, well I don’t plan on working with them any longer than I have to. If it wasn’t for the fact I wouldn’t last long on my own, I would probably stay clear of them. There’s something off about the whole group.”

“It’s not just me that’s noticed that then,” nodded Doug.

“An’ that’s why I like you, Doug. You and me are on the same page. But these other guys…they’re a little too cliquey for my liking. They like their secrets. Even now, when it makes tactical sense to team up and share resources, they’re still holding off on letting newbies into the group. I bet the only reason they’re tolerating you is because your girlfriend’s all cosy with them. I’m struggling to get my head around that as well. What makes her so special?”

“Apparently she and Annie worked together once on another gig,” Doug shrugged. Harper’s face contorted in thought.

“Musta been one hell of a gig. Blaisey doesn’t exactly strike me as the socialising sort,” Harper observed. Laughter echoed across the room as Blaise reached an amusing part of her anecdote. Doug’s eyes narrowed at the rare sight of Blaise being amiable with what should have been a group of strangers. She was participating in the mirth, a grin on her face as she laughed along with the others.

“She’s not,” Doug muttered.

Thad’s attempts to get to know the mage weren’t going particularly well. Such opening lines as “and what do you do?” or “lovely weather we’re having” had thus far been ineffectual, Gratin continuing to stare off into space as though the particular line of questioning the Gentleman was employing were the openings of a new philosophical train of thought. What, in the grand scheme of things, can any of us truly be said to “do” and can any variant in the set weather patterns of a particular planet really be described as “lovely”? It had Thad feeling like the very mention of the word “hello” would send him spiralling on an existential quandary.

It was either that or the Mage truly did find the speck of dust floating just above one of the light fixtures to be truly mesmerizing. It was hard to tell when two thirds of a person’s face was covered by a decorative but non-emotive mask.

“You seem to be far more inquisitive than your peers,” the mage eventually pointed out as though this was the stranger’s only interesting quality, the statement arriving out of the blue much to The Gentleman’s surprise. Thad was just thankful that the mage was showing signs of participation, even if it was only to comment on his quirks.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, just an observation.”

“I see. You do strike me as the…um… ‘observing’ type,” was Thad’s rather weak response. Gratin merely shrugged at the man.

“You ain’t much of a talker, are you?” Gratin again shrugged. Thad waited to see if Gratin would say anything else, the mage resolutely staring off into the middle distance.

“You know, I find conversation flows easier if both sides says somethin’.”

“What if I do not wish to say ‘something’?”

“I only wanna make your acquaintance and come to know you a little better, pal,”

“What purpose would that serve?”

“I find teams work together a lot better if the members get along with one another,”

“You have yet to offer me with any insight into your character,” Gratin turned to peer at the gentleman as he spoke.

“What do you wanna to know?” Gratin considered this for a moment.

“I have always been fascinated by the relationship between aetheric clumping and cognitive development. I have read many papers on the subject but they always failed to elaborate on the cognitive properties of the aether particles themselves. The peoples aether particles choose to bind with seem to me to be more of a conscious choice rather than a response to genetic or environmental criteria,” Gratin offered. Thad felt rather like an engine that refused to start, his brain failing to enter the same gear as Gratin’s and so merely stalled as a result.

“That’s what you want to know about?”

“Yes. And Bees.”

“Bees?”

“Certainly. They fly despite their weight and the size of their wings and yet they don’t seem to be attune with any magical force that I can detect². I would rather like to know how they do it.”

“Um, I don’t really know if I can help with that. I meant what would you like to know about me?”

“Oh. I am not particularly interested in you, to be honest.”

“Ah, Well…”

“But then I’m not particularly interested in most people,”

“I see.” Gratin, as socially unaware as he was, felt like he may have made a faux pas.

“Sorry?” He offered.

“Don’t be, I suppose idle chit chat must seem kinda boring when you can warp physics just by thinkin’ about it,” Gratin merely shrugged for a third time in response.

Thad grew tired of his attempts to get to know the mage and decided to take a seat next to Annie and the others with the intent of joining their conversation. Doug decided to follow suit, curiosity getting the better of him. Harper trailed behind him simply as she had nothing better to do.

“Seems like this is the side to be on! What’s everyone laughing at?” asked Doug the moment he was close enough. Parkinson stopped laughing the moment he noticed Doug was there and went quiet. Blaise attempted to regain her composure, turning sheepish as she realised that she had just been caught talking about Doug behind his back. Annie however wiped a tear from her eye as she turned to address Doug.

“Ka- err, Blaise was just tellin’ us about some of the stuff the two of you’ve been up to. Never a dull moment with you, is there Dougie?”

“Yeah, well, always helps to stay busy. Never could stand a bit of boredom,”

“So ah hear! How did the two of you meet, anyway?”

“Well, that’s quite the tale,” taking a deep breath, Doug began to address his now captive audience.

“So there I was, surrounded by 30 guys-”

“It was five. Seven tops,” Blaise corrected.

“15 guys. And they all wanted a piece of me-”

“You’re jumping ahead,” the gunslinger interrupted before Doug could get too far into his tale of epic heroics, exasperated, “We were caught in a double booking. A gang of human traffickers had kidnapped a load of little girls and two separate sets of parents hired us on to rescue their daughters. The gang were operating out of this grotty little pub so I decided to go and pretend to be a customer in order to stake the place out and learn the lay of the land before coming back under cover of darkness to take the arseholes out,” she readjusted herself, getting comfortable as she settled into telling the tale.

“Everything was going to plan when suddenly this lunatic comes sailing through the window on a quad bike, scaring the shit out of everyone. He jumps off, the bike crashes into the bar and he starts brushing himself down and announces-”

“Hope you don’t mind me crashing the party but parking around here’s a real bitch!” Doug cut in, laughing at his own wit. Blaise rolled her eyes.

“The next thing I know, the place is in chaos and Doug’s fighting the entire gang. Everyone except the leader anyway. He starts running towards the basement so I decide to give him the gift of a bullet to the kneecap. He goes down and I start interrogating him to find out where the girls are. I manage to get the information out of him just as a guy is thrown over to us and realises I’m there. I shoot him and a couple of guys peel themselves away from Doug to try and take me out.”

“I did wonder why there were less of them but I was busy throttling someone at the time,” Doug added with a grin.

“Right. So I get pulled into the fighting. I get driven over to where Doug is, Doug realised someone was getting close to him so he whirls round with a gun drawn, I sense the movement and do the same so there we were, at a stand-off with our guns trained on each other’s head,” said Blaise.

“Then what happened?” Annie asked on the edge of her seat. She was enthralled with the story, eagerly waiting for the conclusion. Blaise stared into Doug’s eyes, Doug staring back. He had gone quiet, waiting to see how Blaise was going to finish this tale. Blaise’s mind was busy replaying the events from long ago, when she had first looked into those eyes. At first they had been the eyes of a crazed man having too much fun inflicting as much pain as possible on those around him. As they had met hers, all intent left them. Doug had frozen up, becoming as still as a statue with his bionic fist tightly clenched around the throat of a gang member. His cigarette became loose in his mouth, succumbing to gravity and slipping out of its resting place, bouncing as it hit the floor.

“He had a change of heart. I decided the bigger threat was the guy with a machete sneaking up behind him and Doug and I teamed up from there,” Blaise finished, breaking eye contact with her partner in crime.

“Really? That was it? It sounded like he was about to kill you,” said the perplexed southern belle. Doug coughed awkwardly.

“I thought she was someone else…” he said cryptically. He caught himself absent mindedly stroking his cheek and quickly stowed the errant hand in his pocket.

“So how about you two?” Doug asked in an attempt to change the subject, “I am curious how you wound up with a guy like Thad,”

Thad took on a wry smile, both hands placed on top of his cane in front of where he sat. The hand on top rubbed the back of the one beneath it in a comfortable motion.

“Ah, now there’s a story,” he said. “You’d have to clear your schedule to hear all the details of that particular tale.”

Annie rolled her eyes, fanning herself.

“Just ignore him, sugahs. He’s just tryin’ to gussy up the truth.”

“Which is?” asked Doug.

“We met in the pub,” replied Annie, to raucous laughter. Thad’s upper lip twitched his moustache left and right in a fussy little gesture.

“Now c’mon,” he stated, “some of those times in the local bar could easily fill several books. Pages and pages of mischief, epic drinking and banter!”

“Ah was due to marry another man,” said Annie, ignoring her partner. “My father was always a stickler for tradition, arranged marriages being the way things were done in my old community. Anyway, I used to sneak out of the house at night and make my own little way into town.”

“Where she stumbled into me, literally,” continued Thad. “She never could hold her drink.”

“And you can…?” asked Doug.

“I partake in the odd occasional imbibement of alcoholic beverages, certainly.”

“That’s a high-fallutin’ way of saying you like to get as pissed as the rest of us, mate,” said Doug, ever the plain speaker.

“Heh…back then it was more business than pleasure. I always used to conduct business over a drink. I found it made my business partners more…negotiable, if you catch my drift.”

“What sort of business?” asked Harper. “Conduct it anywhere I might know?”

“Ever the curious sort, eh? You’d think I was on trial!”

“I’d quite like to know that too mate,” added Doug, “I think Jessie’s much like myself when it comes to pubs, we like to create a mental roadmap of good boozers and who drinks in ’em.”

“Well, the business was whatever came along. Supply and demand.”

“Smuggling…?”

“That’s one word for it. Sometimes the demand meant finding a supply that someone wasn’t entirely willing to part with.”

“Thievery? Burglary?”

“Let’s just say that I used to move items around for clients. As for the pub, I couldn’t tell you which one.”

“I could,” said Annie, “it was the Crowned Pauper.”

“Ahh, now I remember,” said Thad. “I used to buy the whiskey, and you used to lie about the small ring on your finger.”

“I’m surprised you kept wearing it if you didn’t want anyone to know you were engaged,” Blaise noted.

“Well, ah was rather fond of my fiancé, ah just wasn’t ready to get hitched. Ah still had my best years ahead of me and ah didn’t want to give that up. It also didn’t help that ah found such a handsome stranger to spend my time with,” Annie tickled Thad’s beard as a sign of affection, causing the gentleman’s cheeks to grow a shade redder.

“What happened to your fiancé?” interrupted Harper, brow raised as she surveyed Annie, “did he find out about your night time activities and call the whole thing off?”

Annie pulled her hand away from Thad and took to staring at her boot.

“Actually, he died.”

“Oh,” was all Harper could offer, unsure if this was a sore subject or not. Annie certainly looked sad, having shrunk into her seat and put on an air of shyness.

“I was fond of him. He was a reporter you see, writing an expansive exposé on… to be honest, the details escape me. He didn’t like talking about his work in case it got him into trouble too soon. Well the people he was writin’ about didn’t feel like bein’ exposed…” she took a deep breath and wiped a tear away behind a fan. Thad patted her on the knee.

“I put her in contact with a few associates in case her fiancé’s assailants decided to come for her as well. They kept her safe until all that nasty business blew over. We lost contact for a few years until, by chance, we bumped into each other in another drinking hole in Undercit. We still had the same rapport and we haven’t left each other’s side since,” he smiled at his partner, who lowered her fan enough to smile back.

“Aw, that’s sweet. A proper romance for the ages,” summarised Doug. He grinned at the couple, Annie putting her fan away and grinning slyly back.

“Maybe, but it hardly compares to a shoot out being quashed just by getting a look at a pretty girl,” she was clearly playing with Doug, eagerly watching his face to see if he’d allow her to bait him. Doug merely shrugged.

“Well I’m an old romantic, me. I always know how to show a lady a good time,”

“Hah, right, providing she’s into bar brawls and shoot outs,” Blaise scoffed.

“You haven’t run off yet,” Doug pointed out to her, wiggling a brow at her in mock-flirtation, “so clearly I must be doing something right.” Blaise’s face reddened.

“That’s just… That’s because… Oh, sod off,” she said, getting up and leaving the group. Doug and Annie merely laughed at their friend’s embarrassment.

“That girl always was too sensitive for her own good,” the Texan said, earning a nod from Doug. The previous conversation now being thoroughly de-railed, he searched for a new topic.

“So Blaise tells me you’ve known each other for six years or so?” Doug said, reverting back to small talk mode.

“Oh yeah,” Annie began, “we had some fun.”

“Oh? What’d you do?”

“Sorting out gambling debts. She had some, went through hell an’ back to fix ‘em, it was a hoot,” she waved a hand to indicate it was no big deal. Doug raised a brow.

“That doesn’t sound like Blaise at all,” he pointed out, glancing over at the woman in question, who had joined Gratin on the edge of the room. Blaise was the cautious type, the unknown being a cause of anxiety for her. She was no gambler.

Thad lent around his other half to address the other man.

“First thing to know about my darlin’ Annabelle; she has one major flaw in that she’s a serial liar. Even I can’t tell what’s real half the time,” he said.

“You love it though,” Annie teased.

“So how’d you really meet her? Blaise I mean,” pressed Doug further. Annie sighed and huffed some hair out of her face.

“If ya must know, she and ah used to hang out in the same social circles. This was before I properly started seeing Thad you see, but after my engagement…fell through. I had a different beau; Alexander Garcia. I’m sure… Blaise has mentioned him,”

“No, she hasn’t,” Doug responded. This genuinely surprised the Texan.

“Really? She and Al were like siblings, always looking out for one another. They were inseparable. Ah see a bit of him in you to be honest. You have the same sense of humour and he was pretty damn handy in a pinch as well,” she paused to survey Doug for a moment and then shrugged.

“Anyhoo, for two months ah was on Al’s arm all cosy like which meant I got pretty familiar with his brother and friends, Blaise bein’ one of ‘em. I even worked a couple of jobs with ‘em. They really were a hoot to work with,” She smiled at some old memory.

“But then me an’ Al went our separate ways and Blaise an’ Al’s brother had their massive falling out… No one’s really heard from her since,” she finished. Doug’s face took on a look of confusion at this information.

“Huh. Blaise said you’d only met the once,” he told her. Annie froze momentarily, her facial features doing the dance of someone trying to mentally rearrange a puzzle they were missing half the pieces for. Eventually she stared Doug right in the eye.

“Look, Dougie, if you’re hopin’ ah can give ya’ll some insight into your friend then you’re outta luck. She’s always liked to keep things to herself an’ ah respect her for it. That lady’s been through a lotta shit over the years an’ ah only ever heard the footnotes. If you wanna know the real Blaise then you’ll have to earn it. There’s no cheat sheets for that gal.” Doug took in this information, a contemplative look on his face as he took a drag from his cigarette.

“You don’t think Red’s being ‘real’ with me?” he eventually asked. Annie gave him a pitying look and patted him on the knee.

“Ah’m not one to say, sugah, but she’s gotta like ya else she wouldn’t be here. Take it slow and ah’m sure you’ll get your answers,” she flashed him a reassuring smile. Doug still looked as though something was weighing on his mind, Doug making his excuses and getting up to use a nearby water fountain in peace.

Gratin continued to stare off into the middle distance as Blaise approached him and took up a leaning position on the wall beside him whilst scowling at the floor in irritation. It was hard to tell if he even noticed her presence at first. When he did speak, it came as a surprise as Blaise had done very little to prompt any conversation out of him besides showing up.

“These people seem peculiar,” he said. Blaise glanced at him before peering around the room at their fellows.

“…You could say that. Of course they would probably say the same about our little group,” she mused with a shrug. Gratin considered this.

“I suppose that makes us a good fit then. We are to work alongside them?”

“Didn’t Doug and I talk to you about this?”

“Only in the briefest of terms. You have seemed…distracted since we arrived here in Galmanoc.”

“I suppose I have been what with Doug’s injuries and everything…”

“He seems to have recovered well.”

“I don’t think he’d let on if he hadn’t. He doesn’t like people to worry about him,” Blaise stated, fully aware that it was a half truth. Doug didn’t like people worrying about his well being but he thought people better worry about where he was and what he could get up to if given the chance. It made things more interesting.

“Have you known this group long?” Gratin asked, genuinely curious. You can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep and this group were certainly giving some new insights into his friend.

“Only Annie. The boys I knew vaguely before now accept for Thaddeus. He’s new, I only got to know him over the past fortnight,” this was an honest answer.

“On your little excursions into the city?” Gratin queried, causing Blaise to hesitate.

“I wasn’t sneaking off to have secret meetings, if that’s what you mean. We needed to know the lay of the land and to gather supplies for our stay. Those excursions really were shopping trips. Annie helped me stay informed when it came to our business here,” this was also true, to a point. At no point did Blaise go out purely to meet with Annie, there were always other errands she had to run on the way. The problem with talking to someone who can sense emotions though meant that they could tell if you were being less than truthful; all it took was the smallest bubble of guilt to give the game away. Blaise decided to go on the offensive rather than feel Gratin judging her.

“Besides, aren’t you the one supposedly sneaking out to visit less than reputable establishments?” this made Gratin’s jaw twitch. He cleared his throat.

“I am never going to live that down, am I?”

“Don’t worry, I know you didn’t go to a brothel. You always were the worst liar out of the three of us,” she assured him, oblivious to the fact that honour actually belonged to her and that Gratin was probably the best liar in the group, self awareness not being one of Blaise’s strong-suits. Gratin lowered his head, becoming very silent even for him. Blaise sighed.

“I’m not going to pressure you into telling me what you were doing. You’re a grown man, what you get up to is only my business if you want it to be. I’d just like a heads up next time you go on one of your “excursions” just so I know not to panic when you disappear.”

“Sorry Mistress.”

“I’m not your mistress, Gratin. You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“I mean it only as a mark of respect.”

“I know. My name works just as well,” there was a lull in the conversation, Blaise joining Gratin in staring at nothing in particular for a moment.

“If there was something bothering you, you will tell me, won’t you?” Blaise eventually asked. Gratin tilted his head to stare at her, the pools of black glass that were the eyes of his mask boring into her.

“You know you can trust me. If you’re worried about the monastery then it will be better to work out a plan together rather than to feel you need to sort it out by yourself…” She continued, her features softening to show that she truly cared about whatever could be plaguing him.

“…I believe that trust is a two way street. I can sense your unease, Mistress Blaise. I know there is more to this situation than you are telling us,” Gratin stated.

“I… You’re right, of course. We’re teaming up with these people mostly out of necessity more than any past connections I may have held. Strength in numbers and so on. From the sounds of it, the terrorists we’re after have a white mage as part of their group. That’s why everyone here has had a sudden interest in you,” Blaise explained. Gratin nodded.

“I shall be expected to counteract them?” He assumed.

“Something to that effect, yeah. I just don’t want anyone to take advantage.”

“I can assure you that I won’t let them take advantage of me,” Gratin reassured her. Blaise nodded.

“I know. In truth, it’s not you I’m worried about…” she trailed off, her gaze passing across the room and falling onto Doug as he helped himself to some water whilst maintaining a conversation with Harper, The Scouse having decided to follow him rather than be left alone with the others.

“Annie and I share some past affiliations. I left, Annie didn’t. Those affiliations are interested in people with specific backgrounds and skill sets and…well…Doug ticks most of the boxes…”

“I doubt Doug will be leaving us any time soon. I felt his discomfort at the mere thought of coming to Galmanoc alone. For reasons I can’t be sure of, he seems fond of our company,” the mage said upon divining her meaning. It did little to uplift her spirits.

“I don’t know, you didn’t see him that night on the ship-”

“What night?” a third voice asked from over her shoulder, causing her to glare at the new comer in surprise. Tupper had at some point joined them in leaning against the wall and was currently staring at them intently.

“Do you mind? This is a private conversation,” Blaise told him, her demeanour regaining the icy shell that usually formed when someone she didn’t know particularly well turned up. Tupper was impervious to it, his warm grin protecting him from the social equivalent of frostbite.

“I don’t mind at all! What ship night was it? I like ships, but I get sea sick if I’m on them for too long,” the bald man told them, oblivious.

“No, you see by private I meant a conversation between just Gratin and myself. As in no room for you,” Blaise pressed, hoping he’d get the hint.

“There’s loads of room. This waiting room is massive. I’ve seen train stations with less room than this!”

“No, I mean…oh forget it,” Blaise gave up, the simple naivety being too much for her well-worn cynicism. She took to staring ahead, her arms crossed over her chest in annoyance. Gratin glanced from his friend to the strange man that had joined them. He couldn’t sense any ill-intent from the scarred man but there was something off about him.

“…Can we help you with something?” The mage ventured, hoping to be rid of the strange one quickly so he could return to helping Blaise with whatever was bothering her. It was clear that her head currently contained a lot of thoughts that required venting and he knew from experience that it was better to release the pressure quickly rather than allow her to wallow in her own anxieties. Gratin was generally inoffensive enough to perform that function for her. He had a logical approach that could cut through the knots of anxiety clouding her thoughts without her feeling like she was being ridiculed. Strangers had a habit of strengthening those knots though, her anxiety causing her to second guess their intentions and prepare for the worse. Tupper was no exception. He carried on the conversation, oblivious to the redhead between himself and the mage trying her best to mentally edit him out of her surroundings.

“Nah. Thaddie just said we should all get to know each other so I’m giving it a shot. You’re a fire mage, right?”

“…That is correct, yes.”

“So you can make fire just by thinking about it real hard?”

“That is a rather simplistic way of phrasing it, but yes,”

“Could you make some right now?” Seeing no harm in the request, Gratin raised a hand and snapped his fingers, a green flame dancing above his outstretched index finger.

“Cooool. What’s the biggest fire you ever made?”

“…I-”

“Mine engulfed most of a factory, though I didn’t use my mind. I mostly use whatever chemicals I have on me at the time. Most of my explosives are home-made!” Tupper beamed proudly at the mage like a child showing a parent their latest drawing in hopes it would be pinned to the fridge. Gratin, however, was clearly finding it difficult to divine what was expected of him in this interaction.

“That’s…um…”

“It must be awesome to just snap your fingers and make fire though! Do you have to chant a lot to make anything bigger, or is it basically pointing and shooting?”

“Err, it usually depends on the mage. Chanting can help to focus the mi-”

“What do you have to do to become a mage, anyhow? I had an aunt who used to say mages had to sell their soul to do it but I think she just didn’t like magic,”

“I studied hard and practised. The monks certainly weren’t interested in soul-based consumerism,”

“Oh. Does that mean you tried to sell your soul and they wouldn’t accept it?” Tupper tilted his head to one side in a display of confusion. Gratin felt exasperated, the number of times Tupper changed the direction of the conversation leaving the mage feeling dizzy from conversational whiplash. He turned to Blaise for help.

“Mistress?”

“Oh no, I’m not getting involved. It’s what you get for encouraging him,” she said, raising her hands and moving out of the way. Tupper took the opportunity to move closer to Gratin.

“So do you just do fire or is it combustion too? Can you make things explode? Do you wanna try it out on the bin over there? I could chuck a grenade in another one and we can see who makes the better explosion!” Tupper asked, his face brimming with enthusiasm. Gratin felt like he had made a terrible mistake in breaking a habit of a lifetime and initiating a bout of socialization. He certainly wouldn’t make that mistake again anytime soon.

All further conversations were cut short as a Salmanic employee in a pristine blue uniform in the form of a shirt, tie and neatly pressed trousers approached the group and announced their transport had arrived. They were quickly ushered out of the lavish lobby and into the dull beige corridors beyond.

Post by Sam | July 25, 2022 at 3:55 pm | The Mercenaries' Tale | No comment

Tags: Allan Parkinson, Annie Stone, Blaise, Doug McCracken, Galmanoc, Gratin, Jessie Harper, New Dawn, Salmanic Incorporated, Salmanic pipeline, Thad the Gentleman, the Mercs, Tupper

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