CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: JOSTON

The salt of the sea as well as the stench of fish hung heavy in the air as Carter stepped off the boat and onto the dock. He was happy to finally stretch his legs after three weeks stuck on the ship. Now that he was on dry land again, he was eager to get into town to get a hot bath and a meal. The ship had served nothing but dry rations during his trip, so despite the blandness of the fare in this new world, he was keen on getting some real food in his belly.

The docks in front of him were quite busy, with numerous ships from around the region dropping off both goods and passengers. There were more of the former than the latter though, as Joston was not a very popular destination for most people. There was still a war going on, after all, and the city’s proximity to the front line made many avoid it. It was still a popular stop for many merchants who traded their goods for the grains and other foodstuffs Joston specialized in.

The Southern Empire had been known as the breadbasket of Gloria. Their entire northern territory was flat, fertile farmland. Coupled with the South’s fair climate, it was an agricultural dream. Food from here had been shipped all over the continent, with most of the shipments headed north to the Westen Empire to feed their large and growing population.

It was one of the reasons why the West had invaded. They teamed up with the Eastern Empire (who coveted the South’s mineral mines) and attacked. With an invasion on two fronts, the Southern Empire’s armies could not keep up. Huge swathes of their northern territory were taken by the West while the East conquered much of their southern islands. The fighting continues to this day, with the South managing to slow down the march of their neighbors’ armies, though at a terrible cost. Every day the South lost ground, losing both soldiers and territory to the other two empires.

Carter made his way through the busy docks and headed deeper into the city. Joston wasn’t as large as Culvert’s Rock had been; in his estimates, it was only about half the size of said city. By modern American standards, Joston was probably only as big as a large town, one with a population of a few thousand people.

As Carter walked through the streets, he noticed several people giving him the stink eye. At first, he thought it was because of his clothing; they were of much finer quality than what the layman would wear so maybe they were envious or just didn’t like the rich. But then he noticed that even some of the more well-dressed individuals look at him with open hostility. Whatever their problem was, Carter decided to ignore it. He quickened his steps, hoping to find an inn or tavern as quickly as he could.

At the center of town was a small plaza. It was a pleasant place with well-maintained greenery and some benches for sitting. In the middle of the plaza was a statue. It looked newer than the rest of the area, standing twelve feet tall and made of white granite. The statue depicted the image of a man in his early forties dressed in an old-style naval uniform, complete with a long coat, epaulets, and bicorn hat. Despite the statue’s young age, it wasn’t very well cared for. Dirt marred it in several places, along with numerous stains from what looked like manure and rotten eggs that had been thrown at the statue. Carter stepped up to the memorial and looked down at the base where some lettering had been etched in.

“In memoriam of Captain Lanis Joston, who led the fleets of the Western Empire in conquest of the South. Taken by a vile assassin’s blade 5th of Seventh, 543.”

Joston. That was the name of the city. On his map, this city was labeled as Merrygold. Carter guessed that was because the city had been renamed by its conquerors to honor the name of the late Captain Joston. And very recently, too, since all the maps still called the place by its original name. By the sad state of the statue, it was pretty obvious that the name change wasn’t very popular among the locals.

Carter continued to wander the plaza until he found an inn right across the street from the statue. It was a fairly large establishment that didn’t look too high-end. Thankfully, it wasn’t a total dump, either. It was in a nice middle ground of “good enough” that suited his needs perfectly. Carter crossed the street and headed towards the front door.

Leaning against a wall near the entrance was a shady-looking guy with a feather cap and an awkward grin. As Carter passed by, the man remarked, “You don’t wanna go in there.”

Carter stopped and looked at the man, his guard coming up. “I don’t?”

“Nah.” The man’s grin grew wider. “There’s an inn two blocks down that’s a LOT better than this one. Trust me.”

This guy was definitely shady, and he was definitely getting set up to either get conned or mugged. “No thanks,” Carter told him.

The man just shrugged and Carter ignored him, pushing his way through the front door of the inn. Inside was pleasantly warm, with the tavern area filled with lively patrons eating and drinking their day away. The innkeeper was at the bar smiling and laughing while conversing with his customers.

Carter took two steps into the inn when the keeper noticed him. A flash of anger flared up on the man’s face, and he suddenly shouted, “Hoi! We don’t serve your kind here! Get out!”

Carter stood stock still, completely shocked by what he had just heard. “E-excuse me?”

The innkeeper just seemed to get angrier. “You heard me, squint! Get the fuck out!”

The other patrons at the bar had stopped their conversations, many sending fierce glares in his direction. A few even fingered the hilts of their weapon in a threatening manner.

Carter couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Completely baffled, he said nothing else as he turned around and exited the building, leaving the warmth of the tavern which had been cozy before but was now stifling. He heard loud laughter from the patrons as the door shut behind him. It wasn’t until he was outside in the cool, open air that he realized what had just happened.

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Fury gripped him tight, a burning rage that sizzled through his guts. He wanted nothing more than to storm back into the inn and beat the living shit out of the innkeeper. He had faced racism before. He had been one of the only Asian kids in his hometown, and growing up in the 1990’s he’d faced a lot of bullying due to his race. Such experiences had lessened when he’d turned into an adult, but it still happened on occasion. But never in his life had he faced such outright open hate and disrespect because of his race. It was disgusting; he felt violated.

His fury continued to rise. His fists clenched and his teeth gritted together. He remembered the Witch Arm and felt its stable weight tucked into his belt. He suddenly had the urge to storm back in there, draw his gun, and put a bullet into all those racist fucks laughing at him. A memory entered his head, of the day he had arrived in this world. Before visiting Anna’s grave, he had parked his car outside his old workplace. His hands were clenched tightly around the steering wheel, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Laying next to him on the passenger seat was his gun, fully loaded. Several boxes of .357 Magnum ammunition sat next to it, all of them completely full and ready to use.

The appearance of the memory cooled his anger. It felt like he had just been doused with a bucket of cold water. His teeth unclenched, and his fingers loosened. He took a deep, calming breath as his shoulders slumped.

What the hell was I just about to do?

“Hey, friend. You alright?”

Carter turned to the sound of the voice and saw the shady guy from earlier, still leaning against the wall next to the entrance.

“No, I’m not,” he told him.

“Told you not to go in there,” the man remarked with a grin.

Carter frowned, a little bit of his ire coming back. “Do those assholes treat all paying customers like that?”

“Well, not all of them,” the man said. “Just the foreigners. You’ll find a lot of their type in this town. They’re angry that the West kicked their butts in the war, but they can’t do anything to Westerners since they’d be punished by those in charge. So they take their anger and resentment out on the foreigners, the ones who can’t really fight back.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Carter muttered.

The man laughed. “Hey, I agree with you. But sadly Southerners aren’t known for their smarts. Even before the war, their hospitality left a lot to be desired.” The man’s grin widened. “Speaking of hospitality, if you’re still looking for a place to stay, that inn I told you about is two blocks down, just around the corner!”

Carter frowned at his jolly demeanor. “Do you seriously just stand around here all day directing people to your inn?”

The man laughed again. “Damn right, I do! You have no idea how much business these morons turn away.”

Carter sighed. He may as well take a look. Right now he felt exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get some rest.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” he said. “Where’s your inn?”

“Excellent, Ser! You won’t regret it!” The man pointed down a nearby street. “Just walk two blocks down and take a right. The Fat Kitty Inn! You can’t miss it!”

Carter thanked him, then began following his directions. After walking down the street for two blocks, he turned right at the intersection and saw a sorry sight. It was a three-story-tall, ramshackle building. Its green paint was old, stained with dirt and pretty much peeling off. Many of the roof tiles looked to be missing and the cobblestones around it were infested with growing weeds. The only thing that wasn’t falling apart was the sign hanging over its front door, one that depicted an obese cat smiling at the viewer. Part of him wanted to immediately turn around and find another inn, but he knew doing so might take the entire day. If what the shady man had said was true, then most of the inns in town were probably anti-foreigners.

With an irritated sigh, Carter made his way to the front door.

The interior of the Fat Kitty was much better than the outside, though that wasn’t saying much. It was clean, thankfully, and the warmth from the fireplace near the bar was nice. There weren’t very many patrons filling the first-floor tavern, and the ones here looked to be all foreigners. All were dressed in rough, homespun clothing, and Carter could immediately tell that they were sailors from their bearing and demeanor. He had been a sailor himself, after all, and he found it a bit amusing that even here in an alien fantasy world, sailors were still the same.

There was a dark-skinned woman behind the bar, serving drinks to the customers. She was in her forties but still attractive, with a fit figure and a pretty face that was showing a few wrinkles. Her ample bust was displayed proudly with the plunging neckline of her dress, and Carter tried (with much difficulty) not to stare as he approached the bar.

Upon seeing him and his expensive clothing, the woman grinned and let out a whistle. “Oh, wow. Looks like Kal caught us a big fish this time.”

Carter blinked in confusion as he heard the woman’s voice since it was tinged with the thickest, most stereotypical Jamaican accent he had ever heard. Frankly, Carter was offended on her behalf. Why the hell did the magic translating his words give her such a ridiculous accent? Could magic be racist? Or was it him? Did his subconscious see the gorgeous black woman running a bar in a port city and immediately associate her with being Jamaican? If so then he had definitely watched too many pirate movies.

“Are you okay, Ser?” The woman asked, a bit concerned at his silence.

“Sorry,” Carter said as he shook off his tangential thoughts. “Who’s Kal?”

“The blond Glorian guy who stands around outside the Sailor’s Roost all day. He probably sent you here.”

“Oh, right. Him. To tell you the truth, I thought he was going to rob me at first.”

The woman laughed. “Oh, Kal wouldn’t do that. Not to a paying customer, at least.”

Right. Carter really hoped she was kidding.

“I am Mirilla, proprietess of the Fat Kitty. What can we do for a young Lacotian Gentleman such as yourself?” The woman asked. “Would you like to stay for a few days? I’ll give you our best room! If you’re hungry, our cook is known throughout town as one of the best.” She then leaned in closer, her chest almost dangling out of her blouse. Carter felt very proud that he retained eye contact with her. “And if you’re feeling lonely, I can send up a pretty girl to keep your bed warm tonight.”

“I-I’ll just take a room, please,” Carter told her.

“Excellent, Ser. Our best room is only forty-five silver per night.”

Damn. That was more than twice what the inn in Culvert’s Rock had charged, and it was a much nicer place than this. She was definitely overcharging him. Unfortunately, this place might be the only inn in the entire town that would take his business; he definitely wasn’t in the mood to go out searching.

“Fine.” Carter passed her the silver coins.

“Thank you,” the woman stated with a smile as she presented him with a small iron key. “Our best rooms are on the third floor. Yours is the first one on the left.”

Carter nodded then made his way towards the stairs. He wanted nothing more than to get into a nice, warm bed and sleep. He felt drained, not only from the long sea voyage but from today’s events.

For the first time, but certainly not the last, Carter wondered if his decision to come south was the right one.