WANTED

  Name: Rhys Blackwater

  Affiliation: The Iberian Crown

  Reward: 4,000 Silver Pounds

  Notes: Subject is confirmed to possess military training

  — The English Crown

  Francis wanted nothing more than to go to his cramped, overpriced apartment.

  Alas, life wasn’t as simple as advertised. Heading back right after that morbid conversation would’ve meant getting tailed.

  If I wasn’t already.

  Still, spending hours in the increasingly familiar bar was a countermeasure of sorts. And if he was still followed anyway, then he would act accordingly.

  Francis hoped that a second pub crawl after the interaction would expose an oddity of sorts, but it proved pointless. Either the tail was too good, or it didn’t exist at all.

  In any case, unfruitful was better than dead.

  As the bar grew more packed, Francis’ ability to keep track of any oddities sharply diminished. His near helplessness almost pushed him to leave at once, but that would’ve only made the tail’s job easier.

  Of course, they could attack him in plain sight. But what was Rejuvenation for?

  Ugh. If only I had Premonition on me.

  His lingering presence went unnoticed at first, as most patrons had something better to do. But as bets rose and pockets emptied, they needed fresh blood.

  Or rather a mark.

  “Hey partner!” one of the customers said as he approached. “Are you free?”

  Francis was on the verge of telling him to get lost, but he had no reason to.

  His liquidity might not have been the best, but a few gambling rounds never hurt anyone, especially when they garnered a connection or two.

  “I am.”

  The customer’s face brightened. “Mind playing some cards with us?”

  “Lead the way,” Francis replied, as he followed the older man.

  ***

  Francis was down to nine silver once more.

  The game was by no means difficult, but losing two silver in one night wasn’t an expectation of his, either.

  Nevertheless, the few acquaintances he made that day were worth the loss. Even if they offered little value contracts-wise, they still served as social currency.

  And that was worth just as much in Havana.

  As the patrons left one after the other, Francis was once more reminded of the lingering task at hand. Of course, he could simply sleep outside, but that was akin to offering himself on a silver platter.

  Luckily, he gave the innkeeper an additional silver in the morning, saving him the trouble of an eviction in absentia. Still, one silver a day on a room he couldn’t go to simply wasn’t worth it.

  Well, time to improvise.

  The moment the bartender came closer to clean the table near him, he made eye contact. Miraculously, she didn’t flinch.

  “You’re staying later than usual,” the youthful woman said as she wiped the table.

  “Why? Are most of your patrons early birds?” he said with as much charm as he could muster.

  “Not really,” the woman replied, returning the smile. “But you know how work is.”

  “Far too well,” Francis said as he sipped his ale.

  The curly-haired brunette turned her full attention to him. “You sound like you got a story to tell.”

  Here we go again.

  “Try to guess my old job,” Francis said with a smirk.

  “Bartender,” the woman said in a flash.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  That, in turn, took him by surprise. “How did you guess?”

  “Simple,” the woman replied as she moved to another table. “Asking me to guess is the same as saying that it’s the same as mine.”

  Serves me right for underestimating her.

  “What about you?” Francis asked in genuine amusement. “You don’t sound like a mere bartender.”

  The woman raised a brow at that. “Knew many bartenders?”

  “You’re the second,” Francis admitted. “The first was equally as sharp, though.”

  “Doesn’t sound like I’m an anomaly, then.”

  The defensiveness alarmed Francis at first, until he realized what was at play. She was trying to divert the conversation by feigning anger.

  Making her past interesting indeed.

  “So, got any plans for tonight?” the woman asked as she turned to him once more. “Because I have to close soon.”

  And here I thought she enjoyed my company.

  “Can’t say I do,” Francis replied. “I’m new in town, so I’ve been hopping inns for a while.”

  The last sentence appeared to alter something within her, as she instantly adapted a more predatory gaze.

  I’m getting fleeced, aren’t I?

  “Now that you mention it,” the woman said with a thumb on her chin. “We do have a vacancy upstairs.”

  Vacancies weren’t exactly a rare occurrence, especially in a city as large as Havana, and she knew it.

  “What’s the catch?” Francis asked, unamused.

  “Seven silver a month, and the whole floor is yours.”

  “I need an identification document, I’m assuming?” Francis asked, expecting a confirmation.

  “Not really. Just don’t tell the authorities you’re paying for it.”

  The bartender was one resourceful lass, but he needed far more than lodging to part ways with most of his money. “What about food and cleaning?”

  “On the house,” she replied in haste.

  The price was a far cry from those of Orange Town, but then again, she was essentially begging him to rent there.

  “Let me think about it,” Francis said, trying to mask his excitement. With this deal made, he wouldn’t have to worry about daily expenses for a month, giving him more than enough time to retrieve the lost silver.

  “What’s there to think about? Everything on the floor would be yours,” she replied with a huff. “Including me.”

  Come again?

  Her words must’ve visibly flustered him, as she began laughing not long after. “That was a joke… mostly.”

  Francis dropped all pretense and handed her the silver. “We have a deal. Just don’t think I agreed because of the last part.”

  The woman laughed again. “Aye, aye, captain goodie two-shoes.”

  If only you knew this goodie two-shoes is an Acolyte.

  Francis then waited for the woman to finish cleaning the remaining tables, before she closed the door and gestured for him to follow.

  “Truth be told,” the woman said as they reached the creaky stairs. “I wouldn’t have trusted you if it wasn’t for Rhys.”

  “Rhys?” Francis asked in confusion.

  “Grey sideburns, sharp blue eyes, horrible temper.”

  “Oh. The grumpy fellow,” Francis replied, inwardly lamenting the implication.

  “Yeah,” the woman confirmed. “He knew you were new from the get-go and told me to keep an eye on you.”

  “Couldn’t have picked a better person,” Francis said, earning him a smirk.

  The openness wasn’t lost on Francis. Usually, when people divulged so much in so little, it only meant that a certain detail was omitted.

  Rhys didn’t ask; he ordered. An order that paid handsomely.

  The roof, the food, the cleaning, even the implied intimacy. It was all a trap. One he already paid for like a buffoon.

  Then again, what alternative was there? Rhys didn’t appear to be the friendliest, but he was predictable.

  At least more predictable than the Enthral user.

  Besides, I can at least unwind for once.

  As the climb wasn’t a long one, the pair reached the upper floor the moment their interaction ended. The bartender then pulled a key out of her pocket, ushered Francis in, then closed the door.

  “Isn’t that too excessive?” Francis tested.

  “We’re in Havana. Nothing is excessive,” the woman replied as she walked to the double bed.

  The only bed in the room.

  Francis observed for a while longer, and sure enough, there wasn’t a second.

  “Pretty sure that wasn’t a part of the deal,” he said flatly.

  “I don’t remember offering a separate bed,” the woman replied with a smirk.

  Francis sighed softly. “I’m assuming there are no refunds?”

  “Oh, come on! You’re still getting lodging, food, cleaning,” the woman replied before lying down on the double bed. “And, of course, me.”

  “You weren’t joking, were you?” Francis asked, dumbfounded.

  The lingering smirk was all the confirmation he needed.

  Oh well, it’s not like she can force me to do anything.

  Francis ignored her demeanor, and headed to the bathroom. “I’ll be taking a bath. Don’t do anything ridiculous.”

  “Suit yourself,” the woman said, before turning to her own devices.

  Francis wished he could do the same, but Observation dictated otherwise.

  The Stanza wasn’t the passive type, and so he had to manually utilize it. At least when the surroundings weren’t vibrant enough.

  And a Reverend ripple right outside the building was as vibrant as they came.

  Francis half expected it to be Rhys, but it was… different. Rhys’ ripples were those of Untether. While the one at hand was… Enthral.

  She’s waiting for me to leave.

  Suddenly, the bartender’s innuendo didn’t sound as silly. At least staying on her good graces would buy him Rhys’ protection. Even if it meant being a glorified prisoner.

  One man’s prison is another man’s paradise, eh?