A Debt To Be Paid Part 1

[M.E.A.T]

Marcus sat alone in his Tavern of choice, the Blushing Mermaid. It was a moderate-sized establishment that was popular among the locals of Ashton. A band played in the corner an upbeat tune to keep the patrons in good spirits. Laborers and artisans started to file in as time passed. The sun had begun to set, and long shadows spread across the room. A fire crackled in a hearth, and people laughed and cheered. Bickered and swore. Tables full of cards and drinks, and Marcus had his drink that he hadn’t touched yet.

He glanced up to scan the room. He was looking for a green banner with a gold anvil. He saw nothing of the sort. Jernigan soldiers didn’t frequent this establishment. He had stayed here for quite a few weeks waiting. He was watching, wondering who, if any, of his friends would come to his aid. He had received letters in return to his own not long ago. He read them and burned them to leave no trace of the communication. But it is easy to put ink on paper. Putting your head on the line was a different kind of gamble. Who was he to the people he contacted? Was he their friend? A brother in arms? A convenient meat shield? It was hard to tell. He had gotten so used to his life being expendable that the thought of anyone caring for it felt unnatural.

He swirled the drink in his hand. Its dark contents reflect his mood. He watched as ripples formed in the mug. He had time to think. And think he had. About his father. His debt. Why had the Jernigan guards felt the need to parade him around like a prize? So many questions. His grip on his mug tightened. He had spent so many years on a leash. A servant to money that was never his own to keep. Ten years. He had been paying his father’s debt for ten years. He had been a child when he started. He had barely been twelve. His youth squandered on the triviality of coins. He gritted his teeth together as he tried to contain his anger. His father didn’t have the decency to ever write to him—his son. Ten years of silence from the only family he’d ever had. For a debt that never mattered. The Jernigans never cared for the money. They only wanted to keep tabs on him. But why? What about him was so important that the ruling duchy of the realm paid such close attention to him? It didn’t make sense.
He recalled a conversation he had with Simon. The guard captain had asked him why the Jernigan would march him through Royce territory in the open. Why would four armed guards care so much about a straightforward debtor? Marcus had no answer for that. At that moment, it felt like the ground had fallen from between his feet. And he was left with a question. Why? The constant why rang in his head. Recent events had put his debt into perspective then. It was a means of convenience. A way of tracking a poor fool who never even realized he had played for a fool. His father had fed him a lie, maybe even on orders of the Jernigan. Gambling debts. Overindulgence. Marcus realized he didn’t know who his father was. What else could he have lied about if he could lie about that?

Marcus’s thoughts went to his mother. A woman he had never met. His father said she died during childbirth. Whenever Marcus asked about her, he dismissed the question or quickly moved on to a separate subject. He knew nothing of his mother. More questions. He was so tired of the questions. He felt like a strung-up puppet all his life. Now that he had cut the strings, he flailed wildly in the dark. No more questions., He will have answers. House Jernigan owed a debt to HIM. And they will pay it in full.

His thoughts were interrupted as a hand came down on his shoulder, and he heard a familiar voice. “Meat, ale is meant for drinking, not playing.” Bruzog grabbed the mug and downed its contents in several quick gulps. He clapped Marcus on the back, sat beside him, and studied his face. “You have a dour expression, my friend. You have a habit of that. Tonight we may die amongst friends. I could not think of anything better than that.” Marcus chuckled and clapped Bruzog’s hand with his own. “It is good to see you, Bruzog. But I hope that no one dies by the end of the day. If everything goes right, that is. Living amongst friends is my strong preference.” Bruzog shrugged at Marcus’s words. Marcus continued. “I’m glad to have you here. You are my friend, and I promise to repay this as best I can.” Bruzog gave him a stern look and replied. “There is no debt among friends, Meat. You would do the same for me.” Marcus couldn’t argue that. His mood had considerably lightened, knowing that writing to his friends hadn’t been in vain.

Bruzog ordered himself another ale and several more for the table. The two sat in silence for a time before Marcus spoke up. “I am hoping others will show up before the night is up, and I will wait to see who shows up before I go into the details. The noise here should be loud enough to drown out anything we say. After that, we can make our move.” Bruzog nodded and began to drink his ale. He had come armed as Marcus had suggested. A large knife lined his belt, and his signature ax was on the table. Marcus had personal experience with how well Bruzog could fight.

They didn’t have to wait long before another familiar face appeared in the Tavern’s doorway. Aikenn, a former member of the Consortium and a good personal friend, came to their table. He had a variety of daggers and swords. He was a fast and lethal combatant. But that could be said for most in the Consortium. Marcus stood, clasped his friend’s hand, and hugged him. “I’m glad you were able to make it. The others haven’t arrived yet, but it shouldn’t be too long before they file in.” Aikenn smiled and replied, “Of course. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. It’s not like I could let you do this alone. If that happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if this whole city disappeared off the map. Strange things tend to happen around you, Marcus.” Marcus nodded and sighed, recalling his more ill-thought moments with the group. He sometimes did not think through the consequences of his actions. Aikenn continued. “Just let me know how I can help, and I’ll do what I can.” With that, he sat beside Bruzog, and the two began to chat amongst themselves. Bruzog was reminiscing about when they battled with a Lich made from a Justicar of the Order. Marcus watched the two and smiled. Two. Two of his friends had already come to aid him. It gave him hope that the rest, indeed, would come.

The following faces he recognized came in a pair. Drandor, the quartermaster of the Consortium and one of Marcus’s longest-standing friends, and Captain Albert Alexander Draven, a more recent addition to their ranks but still has proven himself to be both a loyal and brave man. The Captain had done well by Marcus and fully intended to return the favor. Drandor came to their table silently, as always. Marcus approached him to greet him, and Drandor stared at him blankly before smiling and pulling him into a hug. He had his classic hammer and tower shield with him, making them look like they weighed nothing every time he used them. He took his seat, grabbed a mug, and sipped its contents.

Just behind Drandor, Captain D walked to Marcus smiling, arms stretched open. “Meat, my friend, it’s been too long; if you need help next time, just ask me in person. It’ll make it far easier to organize.” He looked at the others sitting down. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get started!” He went over to the bartender and whispered something into his ear. The bartender then pulled a large bag from behind the counter and handed it to the Captain. He went back to the table and saw the others looking at him with a straightforward question on their face. “You told me to come here armed. I am simply fulfilling that request.” He laughed, took his seat, and grabbed the mug before him, elbowing Drador to give him a friendly smirk. He placed the bag underneath the table. Marcus chuckled at his friend’s enthusiasm and spoke. “There will be time for that soon enough. We are still missing two people, and I’d rather not have to repeat myself. But please talk amongst yourselves.” The Captain nodded and engaged Bruzog and Aikenn while Drandor listened to the conversation silently. Aikenn was telling them how well his new venture as a merchant had been going and how he had started to dip his toes into beast-taming.

The next to walk through the threshold of the Tavern’s door was Mu’kan. Beast folk was not common in Ashton, and her scaled appearance brought a few eyes glancing in her direction, but she ignored all looks from the other patrons as she made her way to Marcus’s now very festive table. She was practically bouncing with excitement as she quickly found her seat. Marcus smiled at her and said. “I’m glad you can make it. We’ll start soon. Not everyone is here yet.” She nodded, took her ale, looked around the table, and then at Marcus. “I’m glad I can help. Honestly, ever since I got your letter, I’ve been a bit restless.” She paused for a moment to look around the table again. “Who else are we waiting on?” She asked and then started licking at her ale with her snake-like tongue.

Marcus scanned the crowd forming in the Tavern before returning his attention to Mu’kan. “Just one more. If I know her as well as I think, she should be here any minute now.” Mu’kan nodded and turned her attention to Bruzog, who told how he once beat a giant in an arm wrestling competition. It was a close match only because Bruzog was using his offhand. Marcus started absently playing with his new mug of ale before he caught Bruzog looking over at him. He put his cup down and slid it over to Bruzog, who took it gladly.

Marcus watched the door to the Blushing Mermaid. Most of the people coming in now went directly to the bar. Maybe they were trying to drink away whatever troubles the day gave them. But one stood out, one that scanned the Tavern looking for something. She was wearing a hood, but he could recognize her posture anywhere. Marcus raised his hand to get her attention, and she quickly approached their table. Alyssaria lowered her hood. Looked at Marcus, smiling. She had been his most extended and dearest friend. She was the only one who had pushed him not to accept his status as an indentured servant. She glanced over the table full of fellow Consortium members before returning to Marcus and speaking. “Well, it seems we have quite the merry band of miscreants, don’t we?” She took the last available seat pulling out her notebook to jot down everything she heard. She was a meticulous half-elf who enjoyed keeping notes of everything around her. She got her quill ready and looked at Marcus, and continued. “So what’s the plan, Marcus? How are we going to do this?”

All eyes then turned to Marcus, and he let his eyes wander over his gathered friends. Friends. All of these people were his friends. They had come here to help him. Every single person he had written to came to his aid. He smiled at them and grabbed an ale that a waitress had brought on Bruzogs order. He raised it and said, “Before we start, I think a toast is in order. A toast to friends. A toast to righting wrongs.” Marcus paused momentarily; his eyes slightly darkened as he gripped his mug tightly before finishing. “But most importantly, a toast to repaid debts.” The others stood and raised their mugs to him before all of them were saying. “To repaid debts.” They all drank and sat down again. Marcus grinned and looked at his friends. “Now, let’s get started.”

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