The Halfwit Halfling: A Bard's Tale, page 10
“You got me.” That would’ve made a much more convincing story. “I didn’t just bathe because Cook made me.” I raised my voice so the other patrons could hear. “With so many beautiful women around, I need to look my best, don’t I?”
“Someone get a drink for the pretty boy!” a scarred warrior with half a nose yelled. He had his arms draped around two capper women. Right. In a warrior based society, my softer boyish looks probably didn’t count for much. “He smells too fresh. A couple of pints should fix that!” He won a fair number of laughs from the crowd.
I could barely see past the patrons standing around the bar, talking or trying to order a drink. Wishing Klinkle a good evening would have to wait. I didn’t expect to share her tips a second time, but looking at the crowd, I hoped to walk away with more money than last time.
“Chief, while I have you here, could I maybe have a word?” I asked, just as he was turning away.
“Sure thing, lad. What is it?” The over-sized cappers speech had lost its previously jovial tone. Did he not buy my story?
“On my last day off in the market, I saw a crypt troll with a plague cart—”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” Grog told me in a hushed voice. “I have high-Perceptions scouts posted all around the mountains, and the shaman has his spirits patrolling the lands too. If any entity as powerful as the Champions of Pestilence gets close, I’ll know about it. There’s a reason why I’m chieftain, lad.” He clapped me on the back, almost knocking me over. “I respect your intention, but don’t mention this again.”
Grog walked away without elaborating his order. As the Capper Chieftain, he didn’t need to. Of course. I wasn’t the only one who had heard the conversation between the guards and the corpse collector. More than one source must have reported the information to Grog. He claimed to have the situation under control, but I saw it as hubris. Sure, Grog and his people had lived in Game World much longer than me, but a threat with a name like ‘Champions of Pestilence’ deserved more attention. Instead, I watched the chieftain walk up to a buxom human and offer to buy her a drink.
After scanning the room properly, I spotted a lot more women in the tavern: not just cappers, but humans as well. Last time, engrossed in music and then Lefa, I hadn’t been paying attention. Now, I got the chance to see how progressive Blacknail’s Table was. Not only were there men with multiple women, but women making out with more than one man at a time as well. The focus of each group seemed to be capper warriors, regardless of their gender. Despite the occasional one night stand, I liked to think of myself as a one-woman guy. Though I didn’t want anything resembling a relationship, I found myself scanning the room for Lefa.
Then a familiar skinny capper thrust a pint of mead into my hands. “Hruk!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” For once the skinny capper wore more than just trousers. His mismatching boots appeared too big for his green feet, and his jumper hung down to his knees.
“Klinkle needed help for the evening and the chief volunteered me for the role,” he answered, sounding worse for wear. While lively and sweet in the prison building, Hruk appeared disturbed and uncomfortable in the tavern. “The lasses have got their eye on you.”
Hruk nodded at the corner of women from all races. Quite a few of them had their eyes trained on us.
“I think they’re looking at you, mate.” Smiling, I raised my mug at the little gathering. Most of them returned the gesture.
“You don’t have to do that, Perry,” Hruk said. “I’ve long gotten used to the idea, women of my kind don’t like me. On the other hand, you bedded Lefa, and she didn’t have one negative thing to say about you. That, and the flower you have makes you a very interesting prospect.”
I never expected a flower would make me so desirable. Different land, different rules. Unfortunately, none of them piqued my fancy. I had zero sexual interest in full-blooded cappers, and even though I found some of the human women attractive, I didn’t want to go to bed with them. I worried the difference in size would make things awkward. Maybe I was overthinking it, but even the shortest of them had more than a foot on me. I’d consider it if my head reached as far as their shoulder.
“You can never tell what someone finds attractive, Hruk,” I said.
Over the last few days, I had developed a liking for the little guy. Maybe having someone shorter around helped me feel better about my new stature. Perhaps the close proximity and my homesickness had created a void in my heart, and Hruk’s company helped me forget it. We were in the same boat after all. Instead of continually looking for a way out of his incarcerated life, Hruk had embraced it. So, I took it on myself to help him feel better.
“Where I come from, the tall, muscular and handsome get the best women. However, there are large groups of people dedicated to the worship of short, fat, or hairy. We call them kinks or fetishes. No matter what you look like, there will be someone attracted to you—given you have personal hygiene and treat people with respect, of course. Chances are there is someone in this room that likes your look. You just need to get out of your shell and get over your self-pity. Once you stop thinking of yourself as lesser than others, the prospects will show themselves.”
Hruk’s face brightened. “Do you have a kink too?”
“Not particularly. However, I have a soft spot for pale women with dark hair in high ponytails. If they wear thick-rimmed glasses, that’s a nice bonus. My people call it a librarian fetish.” I left out the bit about pencil skirts since it wouldn’t make sense to him.
“Jovians are weird,” he commented before an armoured capper ordered him to fetch more drinks.
I didn’t like how the other cappers spoke to him. It was probably the many years of such treatment that turned him into a pushover. I needed to divert their attention. So, I pushed through the crowd to the front of the room. As soon as I strummed the first chord, several pairs of eyes drifted towards me. Most were still locked in conversation or trying to order a drink. I didn’t expect all conversations to end straight away. Looking at the still dirty warriors, I didn’t expect them to fall silent straight away.
After some thought, I opened with a song that might resonate with Hruk but also had a lively melody. More people fell silent as the riff picked up.
“Come on out of your cage. You’re going to do just fine…”
Again, I took some liberty with the lyrics to make it more appropriate for the situation. I’d never played the song in public before. Liverpool clubs loved putting on Mr Brightside. Though I hated the environment, I did enjoy how everyone on the dancefloor would slow their movements to sing along. Samantha loved the song. So, I had learned it for her sake. Singing it now brought back memories of her.
Instead of images of her straddling someone else, I recalled the good times. Despite the pain she had inflicted me, I still remembered them fondly. I remembered the smiles and her fawning over my cooking. God, I missed the evenings with her listening to me play the guitar with a content look in her eyes. Then I realised those moments were gone forever. Not only because she’d cheated on me, but also due to my new reality. As sorrow replaced my previously almost-cheerful mood, my song selection started to reflect my state of mind.
The crowd didn’t mind, though. Conversations fell silent, and eyes turned glassy. The more I sang, the more I craved comfort. I wanted intimacy to forget my troubles. That’s when I spotted Lefa. Sure, my attraction to her was purely physical. It’s not that I didn’t like her, just her making fun of my naivety following the one-night-stand didn’t sit well with me. I wanted her again. Sex not being a big deal to capper society made it a plus. Neither she nor anyone would expect a commitment from me; there couldn’t have been a more perfect arrangement.
Lefa wandered over as I was in the middle of ‘Wish You Were Here’ by Pink Floyd. The song may have been too slow and sombre for the environment, but the crowd swayed along to it. Looking into the eyes of my audience, I realised the lyrics probably resonated with quite a few of them. Given the nature of their profession, the warriors must have lost several brothers in arms. They probably spent long periods away from home as well, missing their family and friends. Similarly, the civilians struggled with loss and separation too.
『
Musician Mastery has progressed to Journeyman: Rank 4
』
I don’t know what came over me, but as I neared the end of the song, I wanted to do something sweet. Asking Lefa to share a bed probably wouldn’t be a big deal to most cappers, but on Earth, we never took such a direct approach. So, as I neared the song’s end, I approached Lefa. While the final notes still hung in the air, I pulled the pink flower out of its temporary home on Gram’s cloak and offered it to her.
Lefa’s jaw dropped. Was gifting flowers to a girl not a thing in Game World? As far as I knew, most women loved such gestures. I had mixed feelings about them. I didn’t see the romance in giving someone a dying plant, but that was probably me trying to sound cool and cynical. With a shaky hand, she accepted my gift and audible gasps spread throughout the room. I looked around confused. Did I do something wrong?
“By the spirits, Perry, yes!” Lefa exclaimed, throwing her arms around me, and my heart jumped into my throat. “I will marry you!”
“...What?”
The tavern burst into thunderous cheer and clapping. I spotted Hruk staring at me from not far away, wide-eyed.
“Seriously?” I wondered out loud remembering how the older woman and Hruk had spoken about the flower. They knew. The cappers didn’t consider sex a big deal, but the exchange of a singular pink flower meant we were betrothed. “I was just trying to be romantic. I didn’t mean to—”
“Of course! After those songs and the raw emotion behind them, how could I say no to you? To think you serenaded me all evening to build up to this moment. I couldn’t have imagined something more perfect.” She kissed me hard. Still in shock, I let her tongue part my lips and caress mine. The cheering intensified and people hooted as we kissed. Minutes ago, I would’ve appreciated her large breasts pressed against my chest—bloody hell, I would’ve gone for a squeeze while at it. Now I wanted nothing to do with them. Then, she pulled away. “I mean. That song didn’t hold a candle to Wonderwall, but I couldn’t have imagined a more romantic proposal in front of all my friends and family!”
My audience parted for Grog as he made his way over to us. The giant capper wrapped his arms around Lefa and me and lifted the both of us off the ground. “I should’ve guessed it when I saw the flower,” he said, his face buried in our shoulders. “You were late because you wanted to make my daughter happy! I should never have doubted you, little man. My advisors said we should restrict your movement further, maybe even put a tail on you, but Lefa knew better.” The Chief hiccupped as he rambled on. “She said you were a man of honour. I should’ve believed her.”
“Da, are you crying?” Lefa asked, cutting him off.
There was no explaining the situation now, was there? If I told them the truth, I’d never escape the city.
“Of course I’m crying! My first daughter is finally getting married. I thought the day would never come.” He put us down and wiped his eyes. “Perry, you’re moving into our home immediately.”
Heavens no! Forget the Champions of Pestilence. I didn’t want to get tied down over something as simple as a flower. Someone should have warned me! More importantly, how could I commit to someone while memories of Samantha still had such a big hold on me? I needed to figure a way out quickly.
“That might not be the best idea,” I said. Seeing the disappointment in Lefa’s eyes hurt, but I didn’t want to get forced into a marriage I didn’t want. Sooner or later, Lefa would realise the truth and then things would get worse. “We jovians believe, betrothed individuals shouldn’t spend the night together until after marriage.”
“Fair enough, lad,” Grog said. “Retaining one’s culture is important.”
“Besides, I wouldn’t want to ditch Cook midweek.” I couldn’t tell whether Facts Begin With Fiction had come into play or not, but I intended to take full advantage of the trait’s power. “Let me assist him until the wedding, or at least until he can find a replacement.”
“We can respect that. Can’t we Lefa?”
“Of course, Da.” She nodded, beaming at me. “I like a man with principles.”
I couldn’t tell which made me more of a scumbag: ditching Lefa after proposing to her or considering Lily’s plan of escape.
Chapter 16
Escape Plan
To put Lily’s plan into action, I needed to overcome a major obstacle: stealing Gor’s locket before he started his rounds. While the capper had enough Perception to escape my Charisma, he’d see through any attempt I made at snatching the resistance totem. I didn’t have enough Control or the relevant Mastery. However, that didn’t stop me from practising.
“I saw that!” Cook yelled. “You need to stop with these pranks, Perry.” Rolling my eyes, I put the whisk back.
Some would say I was taking advantage of Cook’s desperate need for assistance. People that have ever worked in a kitchen will know it’s a game all cooks play with one another. It involves taking a tool or an ingredient another person needs and moving or hiding it.
“If you’d give me more to do than this boring busywork, I’ll leave you alone, Cook,” I told him. “I’m getting sick of peeling and chopping vegetables. Let me show you what I can do with meat.”
“We need to stretch our meat,” Cook replied. “If I let a prisoner have his way, we’ll finish two weeks worth of meat in a day, and then we’ll have riots again. I won’t live through another one of those Perry. I just won’t.”
Cook had gotten very talkative over the past few days. Technically, I was no longer a prisoner, but he still referred to me as one. However, now that he would talk to me, I didn’t mind as much.
“You’ve never experienced proper jovian cooking, have you, mate? We’re country folk. When the cold months come, we don’t have enough hunters to rely on. So, we try our best to stretch our ingredients as far as they go. Have I told you about my mother’s winter cooking?” Cook put down his knife, moving his full attention to me. I knew he’d listen to a story if it involved food. It took more than a week, but now I could finally get him to listen to me. “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you this before, but my family used to run a tavern. So, no matter the weather, we needed some manner of meat on the menu or no one would order food. Given how amazing your cooking is, you must have worked with jovians before.”
“I learnt everything I know from an old jovian in the Bracken Swamps,” Cook told me. “He moved after marrying a wood aelph. The man wouldn’t stop with his stories of jovian produce and livestock.”
“So, you know how we like to use our ingredients. There were three things we’d never run low on. Potatoes, onions and mushrooms. So, come the winter months, mum would get all the bones the butcher intended on throwing away. She’d roast them and then deglaze the pan with red wine. We’d cook down dozens of onions in the pot and then throw in the meat and potatoes together for a low and slow cook. It’d be beautiful, I tell you, Cook, especially when we finished it with the mushrooms. Don’t you want me to make something of the sort?”
“That sounds amazing, it does,” Cook said with a dreamy looking in his eyes. Then he shook his head, refocusing. Damn it! Cooking Mastery and racial bonus together gave him too much Perception. “Why do you care, Perry? Another week and a half and you won’t have to work in the kitchen with me. By the spirits, once you’re married to Lefa, Chief could make you my boss! Are you Journeyman cook yet?”
“No,” I answered.
“Well, I’m an Adept. If you ever get to Journeyman and want to come back and cook in my kitchen, I’ll let you make whatever you want. I just can’t risk my reputation on an Apprentice ranker’s word.”
『
Congratulations!
You have unlocked the Sleight of Hand Mastery.
When you can’t rely on your sneaky halfling ways, why not resort to distraction?
Sleight of Hand Mastery has progressed to Novice: Rank 3!
』
So Facts Begin With Fiction had uses besides getting people to believe my stories. While distracted, he didn’t see me move all his tools around. So, I could use the trait and my Charisma for misdirection as well. Bloody hell, even though physically I’d never achieve much in this tiny body, I could see the combination becoming very powerful. Now, I needed to do the same with Gor.
I tried over the following days but ended up getting a harsh reality check. I needed a lot more than a Novice ranked Mastery and a single-digit score in Control to remove a necklace from around the middle-aged cappers neck. Despite my stories, he found my attempts to chummy up and put an arm around his shoulders odd. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get to his locket. On the bright side, he didn’t figure out my ploy.
So, I waited until his next day off until he gave me the locket willingly. Damaging the trinket wasn’t an option. I needed it to ensure Lily wouldn’t look for a loophole or trick her way out of the life debt.
As usual, Hruk and I took the food cart to the capper half of the prison together. I waited while he delivered the food. As usual, it didn’t take him very long. Much to Hruk’s surprise, I didn’t take the cart another floor down to feed the remaining inmates.
“It’s just two people,” I told him. “Why don’t we take the cart back to the kitchen and I’ll go back with a couple of bowls? I don’t see why Gor wastes his time pushing a cart around.”
“I’ve asked him that question enough times,” Hruk said.
The little capper celebrated the revelation. We now had one less floor to worry about. I needed to take my time and some privacy. Cook had already left for the day. He wouldn’t miss me. Taking full advantage of my few remaining days of employment, he had left the kitchen cleaning to me. So, once he left me to my devices, I went straight to the cell housing the human prisoner.
