“‘Journey on ye gentle!’ called unto us, the King,
‘You have my ev’ry blessing, and that’s the very thing.
Your rival puckers up for you, your quarry’s in the wind.
Your loss costs us the Kingdom, but then, you always win!’”
— The Ballad of Sir Joe, by “Golden-Voiced” Garbeaux.
“Brains,” said Joe. Though in life his favorite word was likely “breast” or some such, now his favorite word was “brains”. To anyone of base knowledge in Necromantics this was very telling. With luck, we hoped, nobody with that knowledge would be encountered today.
“By the gods, Ammon, you’re supposed to be in control. Shut his unholy mouth this instant!” I was being demanding but Sir Joe’s stiff gait as we walked towards the castle was conspicuous enough without other telltale signs of Zombieism. It was a short trip to the castle gate but a stressful one.
McGrue glared down at me. “Go easy, Gab. She’s working with a new magical focus.” His tone was measured but the message was clear. He was on board with the plan but would suffer no disrespect to Aimee or himself.
“It’s not that!” said Aimee, letting her guise as Ammon slip a bit. “Walking Dead is totally above my level. I cast it well enough with an Arcana check but the demonic virus that animates Joe is bucking my control.
“Maybe if we put a sock in his mouth,” offered McGrue. “I’m not wearing mine right now and the smell can’t be worse than his breath.” Indeed; he was in his ‘naked savage’ gear. Joe liked him barefoot and bare chested. Luckily, since Joe’s spirit was absent, he had his shirt on. The shoes, he decided, were too big a change to make all at once. People might notice.
“Oh no!” chirped Aimee. “I can barely keep him going in the right direction. If he decides to bite…” said Aimee, trailing off. Unlike more potent spells that created servile undead Walking Dead made the subject a cannibal and the condition was contagious.
This little tidbit was throwing me off. “I thought walking dead wasn’t going to turn him into a zombie. More of a meat puppet.” I said, pulling out a spool of wire and binding Joe’s helmet to his gorget. With his collar holding the helm down he shouldn’t be able to bite anyone. This was the theory, anyway.
Aimee scoffed, her composure suffering from the effort she exerted. “I said it wouldn’t quite turn him into a zombie. Because it’s temporary.” said Aimee motioning with the necromantic focus. She had both hands on the tiny thing now and was waving it around. Keeping it low in the middle of our throng had kept her from attracting attention so far. “If you took that to mean puppet, that's not on me.” As if spurred from sleep Joe surged forward in an almost living fashion. Aimee sighed.
“So you’ve no levels in the Dark Wizard class at all then?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Dear, being a dark wizard dries out your skin,” said Aimee, looking down her nose at me haughtily. Distracted as she was, she walked Joe straight into a wall with a great ‘thud’, a rain of thatch dusting him. “Uff! Don’t distract me!” She jerked the focus to the left and Joe lurched back into the street.
“You have to keep him going in the right direction, luv. We’re attracting attention.” said McGrue.
“Look! I am trying to use this evil focus, which is not easy. It’s the wrong alignment and above my level!” replied Aimee through gritted teeth. “And you know I had to drop out of wizard’s college! Pretentious knife-eared bastards.”
“Aimee, c’mon. You are a knife ear.” replied McGrue. I wondered why his kindness was reserved for only her. The two of them were so different.
“But I’m not pretentious.” said Aimee as she adjusted her outfit. With Joe gone, she had added a short robe over her dark wizard attire. It offered as much coverage as a minidress, still plenty of leg on display, but it wasn’t as unseemly in polite company. Still, some would call it scandalous compared to a typical wizard’s robe. Again, best not to change too much too quickly.
Pondering my own wardrobe, the thought of other options captured my imagination. I always dressed like a bard, so I didn’t really have to change my outfit. Having the same look every day made me recognizable; it was like a signature. A signature that, I now realized, wasn’t mine. Joe made me wear a bit more lace and feathers than I thought were strictly necessary and my bright blue bard’s outfit was colored to match his eyes. Did I dare to change now, as the chance for greater notoriety drew near?
“We’re nearly there.” I had the collar of my bright blue waistcoat upturned to cover the lower portion of my face. Theoretically this would conceal that I was talking for Joe. I had the mimicry down pat, but the ventriloquism was still shaky sometimes. I felt lucky to have taken it all all when I was at the bard’s college. It was one of many elective skills there’d been no need for since I joined Joe in his adventures. Frankly, most of my skills fell into that category. “I’ll have to be somewhat near him for this to work.” I muttered as we marched grimly this last leg to the castle and a King who knew Joe better than most. My confidence began to wane.
“How close,” asked Aimee.
“Maybe 5 meters,” I replied. I did have the skill up to expert rank, and that gave me a five meter range in perfect conditions.
“No worries.” said McGrue, who was standing behind me. He was more used to subterfuge as a Thug, or sneaky fighter. Aimee was holding the skull fetish focus and trying to conceal her magical activities. This was going to work, I told myself, it had to. We just looked like a bunch of adventures, and they were distant; on the other side of the castle moat.
We looked like adventurers or, possibly, crazy people. It occurred to me that McGrue and Aimee were just far enough back that they could probably run if we were found out here, the bastards. No, no, there was no reason to question their loyalty yet. They wanted to be paid, after all. “My master, Sir Joe, is here to collect what he is owed by the King! The foul Goblin King and his tribe have been slain!” I declared to the castle moat and its guards.
“Marvelous! So is it true then, Sir Joe?” asked the fatter guard on the right. “He’ll not target the grain monger again?”
“But of course,” I replied for the dead knight.
“Really!?” asked the thin left guard. “The bakers can finally stop gougin’ us then? I ain’t had me mornin’ pastries in a week!”
Leaning in behind me I could feel McGrue’s heat. “You’re fucking this up Gabby. Joe’s much more pompous than that. Channel your inner arsehole.” he growled.
He was, of course, correct. I wanted to be kind to these men of service but Joe regarded them all with contempt. I cleared my throat and continued as Joe, “I slew them all! Verily, my mighty sword hath harvested their souls like a field of corn and left their king with no head for his crown! And how dare you bar me from my gold! Usher me unto the King that I may be satisfied!”
“Of course he did!” cheered the fat guard.
“Yes, of course, Sir Joe the invincible! Sorry, sir! This way!” cheered the thin guard as they both unwound the great chain holding the drawbridge; it lowered and we were allowed to cross.
I started walking and got ten paces before I realized that Joe hadn’t moved a single step. Aimee was shaking the focus, trying to cover her attempts at mysticism by dancing and failing miserably at both. McGrue looked like he was about to bolt when, suddenly, Joe sprinted full speed across the bridge, bowling me over. He certainly still had the speed and power of the living man. For some stupid reason the guards cheered again right up until the impact.
The rest of us followed him across the drawbridge where he’d run face first into the wall of the keep, cracking the stone. With no input from the caster of his animating spell he just stood, raggedly breathing despite not needing air.
“So sorry, Sir Joe! We understand your frustration at not being paid just yet but could you please not smash the castle?” asked the thin guard.
“Or at least, if it’s not too much trouble, smash it after our shift ends? Let the second shift take the blame?” implored fat guard.
McGrue ushered Aimee forward while I attempted to cover their activities with my admittedly small frame. “Oh, there’s an analog option?” said Aimee as she continued fiddling with it. “Finer controls if I…” she trailed off as we reached Joe, who abruptly turned on us!
“Rrrr!” growled Joe before hissing “brains…”
Aimee jerked the skull fetish up towards him. Joe recoiled and carefully turned towards the passage that led to the Throne Room. I stepped in front of him since my job in this situation was to act as herald. Even if it weren’t I would because, the deeper we got into this, the less I wanted anyone to see the damned zombie. Still, my future, I thought, hinged on this and I refused to let go.
I could barely hear the guards as we departed. “Oh, you see that? I thought he was gonna eat his retinue there.” One of the guards.
“I’d hate to have their jobs. I hear Joe can be a real bear of a boss. Chew you up and spit you out.” the other guard, not sure which one as I didn’t really know their voices. Thankfully, after that, they could be heard no more.
McGrue walked up next to me, growing more relaxd. “That seems better.”
“Yes, sir. As I said, we have this.” I almost believed it as I brushed off my coat.
“Say…” McGrue began, leaning in conspiratorially, “...you know magic, right?” he asked as we passed Joe walking in a small circle. I stopped to watch him and Aimee, experimenting with the fetish, no doubt a confused look on my face. How had he passed me?
“Uh … yes?” I replied carefully.
Leaning in close it was easy to see McGrue didn’t want Aimee to hear. “I know all about anal, but what is an ‘og’?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” I was gobsmacked by the bizarre question. “Anal og? What brings that up?”
“Sh-shush! Ah, geez…” McGrue gripped his temples with one hand as a grinning Aimee walked up.
“Oh, Sargon, why are you asking him? I mean, c’mon, isn’t Garbeaux kind of sexless?” Aimee winked at me.
“Hey!” I obviously didn’t appreciate that.
The elf girl gleamed from ear to ear. “Obviously og is just O.G., right? ‘Original Governor’, a title of great respect.”
“For what? For that? So … a prostitute?” McGrue asked, incredulous.
Aimee laughed and, finally, so did I as it sunk in. “Oh … analog!”
“Uh, isn’t that what I said?” McGrue scratched his chin.
“No. You said what she said, hard a. It’s a soft a. It’s, like … measured controls, the more you move the more power there is behind the move, something like that.” I was so proud at figuring this out.
McGrue lit up “So she made the mistake then!”
“Actually, yes.” I nodded.
“What? No!” Aimee didn’t like that.
“Brains!” said Joe as he bore down on us! He got so close that Aimee actually touched his helmet with the fetish to stop him.
“I, uh … really need to focus!” said Aimee as she led him further down the hall. I assumed my position as Herald.
Behind us I heard McGrue muttering. “Huh. I thought maybe it was anal log. Like a turd. Learn somethin’ new everyday.” Then he began to bring it up the rear.
We all pecked along carefully as Aimee carefully controlled Joe. She was now using both hands, which limited her dancing potential, but since her arms were not waving around she looked almost normal. “The problem is–” she began softly “--that the zombie’s will pushes, literally, against my hands.”.
An idea struck. I reached to the back of my outfit and pulled out my muff. It was a tube made to keep a strings player’s fingers warm between sets made from the finest, warmest fur. “Aimee.” I said, extending it to her.
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She scowled. “That is a gentleman’s muff. Anyway, it won’t match my outfit.” she said.
“It will hide your hands.” I replied, nodding imploringly. She frowned, but shoved both her hands into it, thus hiding the focus.
“Maybe I can ensorcell it to make it look more feminine,” she said, mouthing the words to a spell.
Sniffing the air, a memory. “I smell lilacs,” It was as if I stood in a field of flowers.
Aimee growled, “Damn, again? Maybe … I’ll try again later. Wait, where’s Joe?” In attempting some small illusion she’d completely lost track of her one responsibility.
We all stopped short, wheeling about, arms outstretched, trying to spot Joe. We dared not say anything suspicious for there were eyes and ears all about this deep in the castle. Noticing a door ajar, McGrue gave a little peek within wherein a maid could be heard talking.
“Why, Sir Joe, I cannot, I’m married!” protested the young maid. She’d been pressed back and onto the bed she’d just freshly made. Joe was currently trying to climb on after her while attempting to pull up his helmet. His hungry, bestial gasping sounded like lust to the young lass. It was lucky that I’d wired it on; Joe’s death face was a thing of nightmares. Well, also the maid’s life was important I suppose.
McGrue shouldered in, attempting to grapple Joe off of the bed. The zombie, luckily, scarcely seemed to notice. “Milord, the King awaits!” I called. “Oh, but we are sorry,miss–” I began.
“Don’t ruin this for me!” spat the maid, before turning back sweetly to Joe. “Brave sir, if you could just dismiss your companions, except for maybe McGrue mmm, maybe Ammon… in fact just dismiss the foppish bard!” For a royal servant she was certainly quite harsh!
McGrue stopped trying to pull Joe away and shrugged, pulling off his shirt. So much for his concern at being exploited.
“McGrue, no!” I whisper-screamed. I could feel my face turning red. Aimee, I realized, was in the room and, instead of speaking up she was biting the knuckle of her index finger! “McGrue!”
Sliding his knees onto the bed McGrue actually fucking laughed at me. “Geez, lighten up, Gab!” grumbled McGrue, “What are you? A virgin?”
That really got me. “We only have an hour!” I whispered as urgently as I could. Both my companions, finally, perked up their ears.
Our Hedge Wizard, who I had assumed was a proper lady, was still paralyzed for some reason! Instead it was the horny, obnoxious McGrue who put his foot back on the floor.
Holding up his hands, giving a little gesture with the left for Aimee to see, McGrue spoke up. “Ah, miss, we’re going to have to take a rain check.”
“What? Why? What did he say about an hour?” Aimee had started working the controls again, bringing the flesh eating monster we called boss back and off the bed.
“Oh, that, yeah. See … Joe’s betrothed is meeting him … in an hour. So we gotta get done with the King and get out of here.” My word but McGrue was good with the lie.
“But … but how will I get done!?” she fairly howled.
McGrue shrugged, shaking his head. “Well, maybe talk to that husband we just heard you say you were married to. If that’s not good enough, well, we’ll be in touch. Probably not Joe though.” He turned and followed Joe as Aimee led him outside.
“Oh! No, but, we could be done in an hour! Half an hour!” the maid leapt up and yelled out the door.
The maid glared at me. “You ruined it. You ruined everything!” she said.
“Y’know, I could stay…” stated McGrue, trailing off.
Aimee grabbed him by the ear and drug him out of the room, clearly whispering angry nothings in his ear. Was that jealousy? “Brains” could be heard from the hall. That’s never good.
Thus they left me alone with the maid. The young woman pouted, arms crossed. “Dreadfully sorry, milady, perhaps I could sing you a love song? Music soothes passions both of the heart and of the flesh. Especially angry ones…?”
She just shook her head and tidied herself up. Picking up her feather duster she looked at me with murderous intent and I thought better of further attempts at comforting the lady.
I got back into the hall just in time to see Aimee marching Joe towards the throne room. It didn’t take long to catch up and McGrue was still considering. “Focus.” I said. “We lost precious time with that … dalliance.”
He shrugged, rolled his eyes and we followed Joe into the throne room. Entering the royal chamber we were all happy to have made it and that Aimee had finally gained the level of control needed to keep Joe’s juggernaut frame in line. Perhaps, without further distractions, things would go smoothly.
On seeing our party the King’s own Herald projected his voice with a most impressive volume. “Your Majesty, Sir Joseph Mulfinger and his retinue!” It was a basic introduction, unfit for a crowd but perfect for such a meeting.
“Thank you. Majesty, greetings. My master, known across this world and beyond as Sir Joe the Bold, has rendered unto you a great service for which the agreed-upon price was a mere four-hundred gold pieces in coin of the realm. The Goblin Stronghold stands no more, its king is a corpse and its other residents are all slain. We come this day for recompense of services rendered and, perhaps, to render further services if needed.
The King’s Herald puffed at the chest. “His Majesty the great King Laurent XVIII of Fereal ha–”
“Oh, enough!” The king slammed the butt of his sceptre on the stone floor, annoyed. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony. We’re all friends here. Joseph…” The wizened King looked at all times to be sleeping, such were the bags about his eyes, but his spryness belied his withered appearance.
“Careful, Gabbo.” whispered McGrue in my ear. “King’s not normally sick of the courtly bullshit in the mornin’. Must’ve woken up wrong side of the throne.”
The King raised an eyebrow and feigned a toothless smile. “Joseph, my boy, it is wonderful to see you. I can remember when you were a mere lad of level fifty, seeming to starve for experience. Now … level ninety-seven.”
I did not know this history, which endangered the ruse. Best to keep it vague. “Yes, Majesty. I remember.”
“Do you? You are, of course, correct about the fee but I believe I already paid you an advance of the entire amount. Remember? I did so based on the tremendous history of you acting on the kingdom’s behalf.”
“Or that.” Muttered McGrue.
Though I knew that Joe met with the King without me at times it never occurred to me that he was lying about pay and other conditions set during those meetings. I glanced back to see McGrue and Aimee; they glared at me. Grasping at straws I hit upon the first thing that came to mind. “But I, Sir Joe, did the job so quickly?” It had been less than a day after we left that the Goblins were dealt with. Of course the long, slow walk back had skewed that.
The King stared angrily at Joe for a heartbeat then shook his head and smiled. “Ah, my boy! Were it anyone but you asked I’d have their eyes for emeralds just making such a statement. But it is you so of course! Your duty done for the kingdom is so overwhelming. He’s a 10 gold piece bonus.”
The King gestured and a serf walked over with a small sack, eyes downcast. Depressing. I stuck out my hand and he looked at Joe oddly, as he always took the coin. When Joe didn’t move, at all, the paige dropped the funds into my hand and I quickly attached it to Joe’s belt.
“Strange,” said the King. “Sir Joe, are you feeling well? To let a servant touch your coin is so … out of character.”
I had to think fast. “Touching a serf is far worse, Majesty. At least my Herald has some speck of nobility to him; tarnished though it is.” Was that insulting enough? I’m not used to insulting myself!
“Aha! Very true! Disgusting creatures.” Laurant was the best King Fereal had ever had. True, he respected only human men of noble birth who were handsome and capable of terrible violence but that was still better than his father who had been known for melting nuns in barrels.
Joe groaned, and turned hungrily towards another maid with Aimee barely restraining him through the muffed fetish. Seeing the motion the King saw where his helmet was pointing and just chuckled. “Again, my friend? How many was it this time?”
“I don’t recall, your majesty,” I replied as Joe and noticed the King glancing back at McGrue who was holding up six fingers. The king whistled.
“Never one to brag!” said the king, who then chuckled at his own joke. Oh, also he was a well-known letch. The Queen used to object but no one’s seen her in quite some time.
From the shadows bellowed a proud voice similar to the one I affected as Joe. “That’s not what I heard.” Emerging from a dark crevice within the Throne Room was Joe’s arch nemesis, Lord Édouard Edgington, “Lord Edge” for short. Eyeing Joe contemptuously Lord Edge was a former adventurer who retired after completing a quest that included a castle as its reward. That would have been Joe’s quest, but he was too busy fleeing from no fewer than three angry fathers and their pregnant daughters.
Lord Edge eyed Sir Joe with his piercing blue eyes and from beneath perfectly coiffed blond hair. More eyeing. It went on for awhile is the point. He wasn’t wearing armor and his proud, strong shoulders were on display. Aimee was biting her lip as she looked at him for some reason. Joe hated that Lord Edge was almost as handsome as him and they tended to cast hurtful barbs at one another when coming together. Fortunately, now that I was here I could help Joe win one of these verbal contests.
“Lord Edge,” said Sir Joe, with me providing the voice of course. My social status meant that I had to stay back from the two nobles but, thankfully, my ventriloquism skill allowed me to function at a range of up to five meters. This meant I could continue the act but there was one area that proved to be another problem as Lord Edge walked right up to Joe and whispered something directly into his ear! I couldn’t make it out.
“Do you know what he was saying,” I asked McGrue.
“Usual stuff,” replied McGrue.
I guessed that meant I needed to respond somehow, “You forget yourself, sirrah! Between us, I am, of course, the stronger. I am the mightiest of men!”
Lord Edge laughed, stepping back from Joe. “Yes, yes, but we always know in these encounters who will come out on top.”
The King shook his head, “Enough! You two can continue your foolishness later. I mean to talk to you both about these damned Goblin Kings.”
“But I slew the goblin King,” Joe, or rather, I, said.
Lord Edge rolled his piercing blue eyes and scoffed, “You killed a goblin King, there are so many these days that I fear turning left after my bath for the possibility of decapitating one.”
”Yes, Joe, we talked about this,” said the King unhappily. “I actually have another Goblin King that needs slain, but with the number appearing I fear that I will run out of adventurers as their numbers swell. Do you have any ideas?”
“Of course, my king,” said Lord Edge, “I will do a grid based search, looking the kingdom over for the source of this evil. The process will take months and most of my manpower but should lead us straight to the monster responsible.”
“Months? That sounds terribly disruptive and expensive.” said the King, concern covering his face. “What about you, Joe? Do you have any ideas?”
I didn’t. I glanced over at McGrue who was equally clueless, and Aimee who was staring at Lord Edge’s backside while ignoring the focus.
“Brains,” said Joe, the actual Joe. His head turned to see Lord Edge. Edge lowered his gaze, cocking a brow and rubbing his chin. I had to think of something to save this but what!?
The King started at him for a long moment, a look of puzzlement in his eyes until he slammed his fist into his palm, “Brilliant. Yes! We need to find the brains of the operation! Why, you could capture a Goblin King and get him to lead us to I don’t know; the Goblin Emperor? Is that a thing? That’s why I trust you Joe, you keep things simpler than the other blowhard over here.”
“He does blow hard. Ha!” I said for Joe, getting a cut in while the getting was good. Luckily I remembered hearing Joe say that one before.
Lord Edge glanced over at the king who wasn’t looking his way and smiled, which seemed odd. I’d have to try insulting him harder.
The King noticed the way that Edge and, seemingly, Joe were focusing on each other as well. “This does take me back.” he said, wistfully, “You boys, in the flush of youth, with your short shorts and body oil. How many times did I chase you out of my broom closet? Ah, but excuse an old man his foolish reminiscing. If you want to go after the next Goblin King, I suggest you get to the farming village of Kestle soon,” said the King.
“What about my reward?” I asked as Joe, “Saving the kingdom is expensive work.”
“Yes, yes, the matter of payment as always. This quest is so challenging, let’s say … 150 gold pieces?” and I heard my companions gasp. In these discussions such an offer was for each member of a party! Added together that was quite a lot. Joe usually didn’t let us sit in with the negotiations, but 150 gold pieces was enough to live the rest of your days in relative comfort if you were careful; was this a normal payment for that skinflint?
But, wait … why did the King end his offer with a questioning tone? I asked myself what Joe would do and the answer was a cross between acting greedy and taking a chance. “Two hundred,” Joe replied in a voice as confident as I could muster.
The king considered that, “Unusual, but certainly. You shall have your 200 gold pieces! I see that you still have these three companions plus, I assume, the shy one. That would be, well, an even thousand…” The King nodded, confirming his own math internally.
A thousand gold pieces!? Also apparently Joe had been lying about a hidden fifth member of the team, probably to collect more gold. Of course to collect more. But, wait, who was he lying to? The King seemed to know Joe better than we.. “Yes,” Joe said, “I accept.” I added, nearly in shock.
“Now I wish to meet that Shy companion of yours one of these days.” said the King as he turned to his Herald. They looked to be leaving, perhaps to arrange for the payment. I stood and waited for the paige to return but, instead, McGrue grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me out of the throne room. He looked furious.
“Are you out of your bloody mind? he asked.
“What?” I was entirely confused at how I’d angered McGrue.
“Can you believe this stupid Bard?” said Aimee from behind me.
“Wait. You too?” I asked, surprised.
“The damned fool knows nothing of guild financial rules. Shit. Weren’t you curious why the King would agree so quickly?”
“Nooo…” I drew the word out, hoping an answer would come as I did. It did not…
“It’s a gamble, Gab. Dammit…” Aimee put a hand on my shoulder and let her hair hang over her face.
“When the fee is two-hundred gold or more per person there can be no advance. It’s paid only when the task is done. At one-fifty each we would’ve been set for life, we could’ve just run off and, I don’t know, changed our names and started homesteads. We’d be assumed dead and free. So free.”
“No … no advance?” I asked, confused. “But … where does it say that?”
“In your Guildbook. You’ve never had to handle your own money have you?” McGrue stiffened his lip in frustration.
“I … well, I was living … as a musician, then Joe found me, you see. He told me to just, you know, sign the Guild Log and, and initial where it said and… Shit…”
“Even dead he’s fucking us. Wait.” McGrue stood up straight, a look of fear plastered across his face. We all fell silent, then heard a metallic “tunk”. Looking at Aimee in the eye, then the skull fetish, Aimee’s face again, “Fuck…” he blanched visibly.
McGrue led the way, dragging Aimee, who still had me by the shoulder and nearly pulled me off my feet before losing her grip. The noise came from another bedroom, like the one the horny maid had occupied. This time, however, when we brushed past the door that was ajar we found the armored beast that was Joe the Zombie atop a finely dressed figure. “Help me, Gabbo! Bloody gobshite!”
I went with McGrue and the both of us managed to detach one hand from the throat of the blood-masked man beneath Joe. The other came free by itself as Aimee started to take control. Over four-hundred pounds of undead muscle and bulky armor, it took both myself and McGrue with Aimee using the fetish to get Joe away from his victim. The blood had caused the zombie to enter into a frenzy that didn’t end until we’d gotten him to the doorway. McGrue could hardly contain his frustration, “How the fuck did this go so far sideways?”
A cough from the bed. I pulled myself up on the footboard of the bed then dropped to my bottom, back to the bed. “That’s Lord Edge!” I whisper-screamed as I recognized his garb. His jerkin, his breeches, his bulge, strangely turgid considering the beating he’d taken. There was no doubt even though I did have questions.
“Great one, ‘Golden-Voiced’ Garbeaux, in just minutes you managed to fuck us out of an early retirement and cripple a noble. Let’s get out of here. Maybe we can salvage this … I just don't know how right now…”