Cassy sat in silence, gripping his fists tightly. "What the hell do they want? How can I help them? Just… please, stop!"
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to silence the relentless whispers echoing in his mind. Calm down…
Henry hobbled over, eyeing him with a wry smile. "It gets better... or worse, depending on how you look at it. Anyway, get out. I'm going for a nap in the breakroom."
The old man turned toward the door but paused. "Oh, right. Guess you'll need to come with me, actually."
Not sure whether to laugh or cry at Henry's odd charm, Cassy followed him. They walked down a dimly lit hallway until they reached a staircase leading below the lobby.
The air smelled of damp wood, and flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls. At the end stood a massive iron-bound door, adorned with a lock nearly as big as Cassy's head.
Henry fished around in his pocket and pulled out an absurdly large iron key, fitting it into the lock. With a heavy clunk, the door creaked open.
Should I really be following this old man into some underground dungeon?
"This here's the storehouse," Henry said, stepping through the door.
"When you need supplies, come here. Don't bother me with it and make sure to submit a proper report to the Captain, or I'll ignore it entirely. Understood?"
"Yes, I understand." Cassy nodded, feeling a bit more at ease.
Henry ignored him and moved to a heavily reinforced second door.
He grabbed a gas lamp from the wall, muttering something into the lock, which swung open. Without looking back, he disappeared inside, the door shutting firmly behind him.
With a sigh, Cassy glanced around the room and noticed a sign-in sheet with a quill beside it. He picked up the quill and, with effort, scribbled out "Caspian Loveheart."
The act brought a strange sense of normalcy. Despite the whispers echoing faintly in his mind, he chuckled. "No superhuman vitality, speed, strength?" He laughed dryly. "Why am I talking to myself?"
The door latch clicked, and Henry re-emerged, limping over with a small box and a leather-wrapped bundle.
"Cherrywood revolver. Six-barrel. Fifty standard bullets, six blessed. Don't miss, kid. Sign them out, or I'll have you flogged."
Cassy's eyes lit up at the sight. Finally. No more fistfights... hopefully. He secured the leather underarm holster over his shirt, loaded two blessed bullets and three standard ones, rotating the chamber until a blank slot faced forward.
He slipped the rest into his jacket pocket and examined the blessed bullets—black with silver inlays and blunt tips, as if meant to explode on contact rather than pierce.
Henry glanced over his shoulder as Cassy filled out the form. "What, you a slumrat, kid? Your handwriting's worse than my granddaughter's."
"My mom passed when I was young. I never met my father. Grew up in Kensington," Cassy replied, wincing slightly at the scrawl he'd left on the paper.
Henry's harsh tone softened a bit. "Job well done, lad. Not many get off those streets alive. If you ever need anything, give me a shout. Grew up hard myself…"
His voice trailed off into a distant memory, but he quickly shook it off. "Anyway, go see the Captain or whatever it is you young ones do. I'm heading to bed. Don't bother me."
Henry hobbled back up the steps, leaving Cassy alone. The Captain had warned him about Henry's quirks, but Cassy found himself warming to the old man's hidden soft side.
With a slight smile, he returned the lantern to the wall, locked the storehouse, and made his way to the Captain's office.
As he passed the breakroom, he spotted Henry, leaning back in a chair with a newspaper draped across his face. Well, he wasn't kidding about that nap, I guess.
Cassy found the Captain's door slightly ajar, so he stepped inside. His fearless leader seemed locked in a wrestling match with his tie, looking harried and exasperated.
Cassy cleared his throat. "Afternoon, Captain. I've successfully become a Jester."
The Captain looked up, immediately breaking into a grin.
"Ah! Cassy, good, very good. Never doubted you for a second. Are you alright? It gets better, I promise. If not, ask Henry for a brew; the man's an apothecary, even if he doesn't look it."
"It's… strange," Cassy replied hesitantly. "Feels like hundreds of people are whispering to me, just out of reach. But I'm alright. I'll take you up on the advice if it worsens."
The Captain sipped his tea, nodding approvingly. "Splendid. For now, get yourself settled in your new quarters. And if you're free, check on that foolish kid at the pub. My wife keeps asking me about him. Get his runt some sweets, would you?"
Am I a Crow or a caretaker? Cassy thought, exasperated.
But he merely nodded. "I'll handle it, Captain. If there's nothing else."
"May the Mother guide us."
"May the Mother guide us all." Cassy turned to leave, his heart feeling unexpectedly light.
As he approached the lobby, he steeled himself, cheeks flushing slightly. I'm an adult now—I can't be getting flustered every time I come to work, damn it!
Rochelle looked up at him as he approached, smiling. Cassy's heart ached at the sight. Immediate damage! This is witchcraft, without a doubt!
"Hello, Rochelle. I hear you have some items for me?"
"Indeed, Caspian… er, is it fine if I just call you Cassy? We will be working together often."
She handed him a copper house key and a note with an address written in impeccable handwriting. The smell of her perfume subtly drifted over to him.
"I'd like that, Rochelle. Then take care."
"See you tomorrow, Cassy."
Cassy smiled politely, mentally applauding himself for keeping his cool before heading down the stairs.
The sun was still high in the sky, providing precious little warmth. Yet Cassy felt comfortable under his 'luxurious' wool coat. It may not be impressive to others, but it filled him with pride!
Feeling quite chipper, with a noticeable swagger in his step, he made his way toward the Angry Bear pub.
Stopping by a shop front with colorful ribbons outside, he bought some caramels for the little one.
My goodness, the Captain is a grandfather? He doesn't look quite that old. Must've had kids early. Not really a surprise in the slums, but he seemed to come from a reasonable family... well, who am I to judge!
Though somewhat distracted as he exited, he didn't fail to notice a fellow sitting across the street reading a newspaper. As he stepped out, he accidentally locked eyes with the man.
Cassy didn't falter; however, the man immediately resumed his perusal of the Menthil Daily. Strange? He didn't want to assume the worst, but his years in the slums had taught him he couldn't afford such mistakes.
Even if he were slapped silly, he would not believe that was a coincidence. Still, he remained calm, feigning ignorance as he continued his way toward the pub.
Pushing open the saloon-style doors, he briefly inspected the occupants—typical working-class blokes enjoying a cheeky brew on their lunch breaks, no doubt.
He walked toward the counter and waited for the barkeep to notice him.
"What'll ye have?" the man let out in a gruff tone before catching sight of Cassy.
He swallowed sharply and stood in front of him, hesitating.
"Caspian—ah, sorry. What can I do for you?"
Cassy didn't miss the sound of the doors swinging open but didn't turn around.
"Your dad sent me to check up on you. At least that's why I was here in the first place, but… I'm gonna need you to listen to me closely, alright? Get your kid and get out of here now."
The barkeep laughed. "Good joke…"
"Wait, you're serious?"
"Don't make me say it twice. Get out now."
The man Cassy presumed to be the Captain's son turned around and calmly made his way to the backroom.
Cassy heard the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind, and his heartbeat quickened.
In one swift motion, he reached into his jacket, turned around, and fired without hesitation.
BAM!