Chapter 10: Lads, Blokes & Bags

Led by the elevating rave of spirits in San Lenard, Mikey's search for a well brewed jug of ale led him across the city.

Though the sun had not yet set, the citizens of San Lenard had already begun their indulgence in fashionable extravaganza. Coats and hats were made from the most exotic of leathers and furs, their colours littered with the glitter from the opulent makeup that caked the wearer's face.

In this crowd where normal stood out, Mikey's leather vest and white shirt looked more like a dirty rag dropped in a ball room. This estrangement, from what was once an adventurer's haven, left Mikey on an uncomfortable pace towards the island's central estrée.

Eager to get away, he soon heard the laughs and banter of those he was convinced were kin. Mikey followed the jovial echoes all the way down the edge of the water, as the crowd on the streets seemed to transition from flamboyance to practicality. Many of the sailors and warehouse workers seemed to be finishing for the day, most of which were headed in the same direction as Mikey: a rather large, waterside inn.

The insignia carved onto the welcome sign was a pair of lips surrounded by hearts.

"A little bit tacky, eh?" he vocalized to himself, though streamed into the traffic passing through the stonewalled perimeter.

Mikey found himself inserted between a pair of rather large and beefy men, each of them cocooned in uniforms of dried sweat. One of them, noticing Mikey almost suffocating between their beer bellies, gave him a slap on the back and pushed Mikey in front of him.

“New around here lad? Someone as short as you’d be remembered for sure,” the older man chuckled while dirt and sand clung to his beard. He joyfully smiled with his butterscotch teeth in an attempt to ease Mikey’s nerves.

Mikey however, sensing the chance to assert his dominance early, suddenly slapped the man on his big belly.

"And what if I am, eh big man? You off to shout me a round of drinks?" Mikey perked up, puffing out his chest as he turned back around to enter the inn.

"Ha! You're not half-bad kid. Sure, why not. The 'One Liner Inn' could use a few new regulars. Let's see how much that teeny belly can hold then," the man guffawed as he stepped in behind Mikey.

'The One Liner Inn?' Mikey pondered.

Mikey's first steps into the inn revealed the meaning behind such a name. A crowd of grey, working-class dads filled the stools and tables - all of them chugging back ale or slamming down jugs. But with each round of drinks, Mikey saw the maiden of the inn. An older lady, in her late seventies, was dressed in a skimpy maid outfit. A tight corset kept her posture straight and her hanging luggage supported, but there was no amount of makeup that could conceal the bags that fell from her eyes.

Mikey, finding himself coaxed along with the older workmen, eventually found himself a stool at a high table. The three of them circled around the table, hollering at the old maid to take their order.

"We ought to introduce ourselves to the wee laddy, yeah Alec? Me own name is Tommy, Tommy Bartham," the man who Mikey had first met introduced himself. A slight head tilt with a grin followed before he elbowed the other man.

"Ah, rightio lad! The name's Alec Darrium, pleasure to make an acquaintance of yours," the next man continued. He was a bit slimmer than Tommy and lacked the same beard, however his moustache more than made up for it. Spiralling into a circle around his cheeks, Mikey couldn't quite make out whether the hair was solid from his personal grooming or it was simply packed with muck and filth.

"Mikey Drewitt! Captain of the most beautiful ship you'll ever lay eyes on," Mikey closed his eyes and dipped his head like some sort of pompous noble. "That's a promise from the genius of yours truly."

Tommy and Alec both burst into merry hysterics.

"You're a right dreamer ain't yah?" Tommy pushed out under his laugh, weakly gesturing to the old maid to come over as they met eyes. "Hey Granny, Check this little guy out!"

The senior waitress danced over with a tray of ale in her hands, dropping the enormous mugs in front of Mikey and company.

"This one here? You look young enough to be sucking on my teats little lad. You want a go?" the granny teased, raising her brows flirtatiously at the young Mikey.

"Wh- wha-" Mikey's eyes darted to Tommy for help, both shocked and concerned for his future inside the inn.

Tommy and Alec were only lost further into the hilarity, the granny now joining them as she slapped the empty tray in her hands.

"Hey Granny! You better not be picking on the little dude!" a more youthful man popped up behind the old bag and Tommy, throwing his arms around the two of them. "You know that you manthers and cougars keep scaring away all the young folks?"

"Who yah calling a cougar little shit?!" the Granny threw him into a headlock, as the young man cringed and tried desperately to free himself.

Eventually he got free, dry retching as the old lady stormed off with her tray. The young man settled, though he looked up to notice two glaring men, each of them blinking with violent suggestion.

"Manthers, eh Lazarus?" Tommy asked, sculling his drink back and then slamming it on the table.

"Manthers," Alec echoed, then doing exactly as Tommy had done before continuing his stare.

"Tell you what mate, we'll be over the other side of the inn if you're looking for some people NOT old enough to be your dad," this Lazarus raised his brow, chuckling cheekily with a nudge in Mikey's side before taking off into the crowd.

Mikey couldn't help but snicker at the interaction, watching Lazarus run off to the other side of the inn.

"He a regular here as well?" Mikey asked with a smirk, looking back to the pair of hearty blokes.

"Lazarus? He's a right pain in the ass is what he is. Real daddy's boy that one," Tommy seemed to laugh off the glare as soon as Lazarus had left his sight. "He's got heart though, heart and right talent."

"Ah yeah lad, he'll be inheriting his father's business in no time. Odeon's have always been high in, what's the word?" Alec began to explain, but frowned at the loss of his line of thought. Mikey didn't take long to finish his mug, quickly setting it down on the table to be collected.

"Well, anyway laddy. The Odeon kid has a point, to waste your night hanging out with some puff balls like us. Go an' mix with the youngins," Tommy gestured to where Lazarus had run off to. "Great meeting yah young captain, I'll see you round."

"Likewise, thanks for the drink," Mikey gave a mock salute to the two blokes as he got off his stool and re-entered the inn's gleeful crowd.

"Potential!" Alec slammed his hand down on the table moments after Mikey had set off. "That's the word."

"Why, he's gone now dullard," Tommy spoke into his palms.

Mikey, weaving through the tables and chairs of the working class, soon came to a standing table not far from the wall. There stood two young men and a woman, each of them seemingly in their early twenties. Standing in the middle, facing Mikey, was Lazarus.

"You came over! Glad to have you. You can call me Laz, this here's Galliard and Liza," Lazarus gestured to the pair with him.

"How'd you do?" Galliard would ask, tipping his tricorne. Galliard was a dark skinned man with dreads that ran nearly the length of his torso. He was fairly well kept, with only a few marks and imperfections in his coat. Galliard undoubtedly had the demeanor of a sailor.

"Lovely to meet you," Liza smiled softly. She was around the same height as Mikey. She wore a similarly fashioned leather vest, though without a shirt beneath it. An oddly patterned tribal tattoo lay over her olive skin. A bandana over her head and a plait held sea washed locks away from her face.

"This is the part where you give us your name mate," Lazarus spoke out with a friendly grin. The young man's eyes were golden with an ambitious incandescence, accented by his similarly blonde hair. He held a strong, yet welcoming posture - a manner which basically invited one to follow him.

"Mikhail Drewitt, but you can call me Mikey," he said, repeating the mock salute he'd used for the older blokes.

"Mikhail? That's an interesting name!" Liza affably complimented Mikey, looking to Lazarus soon after. "He's nearly got you beat there."

"Mikhail? Better than Lazarus? Please! No offense of course," Lazarus gestured a lighter-heartedly apologetic wave to Mikey, though he then smirked. "But my name is just: One. Of. A. Kind."

"Your EGO is one of a kind more like," Galliard chuckled. He then glanced at Mikey whilst he stole Lazarus' drink and handed it to Mikey instead. "Anyway, tell us about yourself Mikey. What brings you to San Lenard?"

The four of them went on to chat for hours. Drink after drink, Mikey found it progressively harder to keep his voyage a secret. He began with the tales of Lumpy vomiting in the stew and showing off the sword Liam had given him, but swiftly became drunk enough to unravel the finer details of the trip. Mikey moved on to the topic of his ability to mimic the magic of others, then the mark that sat on his hand and then finally the business with Lady Blackjack and the Tornstars.

"Hoooooooly shit! Are… are you serious?" Lazarus slapped his hands down on the table, leaning forward with gleaming eyes of envy as he slurred every word that slipped through his lips. "All of this has happened in the past month?! Galliard. Liza. When are WE going on a trip like that? Don't you know? We are born and bred for the sea!"

"Laz, Laz, Laz, Laz. We caaaaan. We can. Listen, listen. Liza, do tell how we can," Galliard went on, then shifted the attention to Liza. In an impotent manner, everyone's gaze snapped to Liza.

"Me?! Wow wow wow. Well, the way we can. Well it's simple really. It's real simple. We just ask the captain, the captain at the table!" Liza also slurred as her head whipped to Mikey, prompting the other two to do the same.

"Me? But I'm not yooooour captain. I'm myyyyyy captain. There's a very big difference isn't there? Isn't there? Like, like, if I was yoooooour captain, the I'd just say get on the ship. Like this," Mikey giggled to himself, as he slid back. He left his voice in a casual and uninteresting tone. "Get on the ship."

The other three couldn't help but burst into tears from the disappointment of the display, Mikey joining them in a misinterpretation of their amusement.

"Well, well why don't we? Guys. We could go to his ship. Right now. We could. Should we go?" Lazarus perked up, looking back and forth between Liza and Galliard. "I'll grab a barrel of ale. Galliard, grab a bottle of whiskey. Liza, uh, Liza. Liza. Okay? Cool? We got it?"

"Whaaaat? No job for me? Do you have a job for me captain?" Liza pouted dramatically as the other two scrambled over to the counter.

"Liza, yooooou have the most important job of all. The most important one. That's as our body guard! You're our bodyguard. Our hands will be full! And I'm just a captain, I'm only good at talking." Mikey said as he placed his hand reassuringly on Liza's shoulder. "It can be you, and only you. Okay?"

"Aye aye captain!" Liza roared out in response, straightening her posture and saluting fearsomely on the spot.

Shortly after, Galliard and Lazarus returned with the extra alcohol, looking to Mikey.

"Well then, show us the way Captain! Off to the Blackjack!" Lazarus declared.

"As you wish, Lazarus of the Jacksack!" Mikey shouted out as the four of them marched off into the midnight.