The Merchant of Tiqpa: The Bathrobe Knight's Sequel

by Charles Dean

  “I just always assumed the hitting had to do with his face.” Tubal obviously shared Locke’s sentiment. “And the fact he still doesn’t believe the year we met I was in a relationship.”

  “You told me you were dating a vegan. I simply said it’s not possible. I’ve never met her-bivore.”

  “It’s the dad jokes that make me hit him. The first time we met he told me he used to love making calendars at work, but that they fired him after he took a few days off,” the fake-moustachioed girl said.

  Locke laughed at each of the two puns, drawing him no small amount of ire from the two women ragging on Reginald. “What? They were good.”

  “Look, I have a lot of problems, like puns or my fear of stairs. But I promise you I’m taking steps to avoid them,” Reginald said, laughing at his own pun even as he was telling it.

  Locke did his best not to laugh, but a chuckle still came out. He never understood why some people hated corny jokes so much.

  “I still have a gun,” Rem said, picking her pistol up half an inch off the table before slamming it back down.

  Locke threw up his hands. “Hey, I can’t help laughing. He’s the one cracking the jokes,” he said defensively.

  “Oh, relax. Rem is always strict, but she wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Tubal patted his sister on the back again. “She’s harmless.”

  “You say that, but my poor heart, she breaks it over and over again,” Reginald clutched his chest and feigned a heart attack.

  “Give it a rest. Ya hit on every girl you meet,” the little farmer girl said. “Anyway, it’s nice to see you’re here, Shy. Will we be seeing more of you, or is this just a one-time thing, or are you going to be joining our team?”

  Locke wasn’t actually sure what the answer would be. This big shot Eliza was introducing him to might end up requiring him to do even more work than he was doing before, but pay him enough to make it worthwhile, or he might just have small orders that would simply pay enough for him to eat, take care of his sister, pay his debts and have a little fun on the side. “Maybe . . . I can’t say for sure,” he started off honestly, but when the farmer girl’s expression soured, he quickly added, “but I know I’ll be free for breakfast tomorrow . . . if you’d like?”

  “Wow,” Reginald and Tubal responded in unison as the girl’s mouth opened in shock.

  “I’ve heard of straight shooting in my day” --Rem nodded at Locke-- “But that takes the cake. Man knows what he wants and goes right after it.”

  The two Master Chiefs just joined in on Rem’s nodding.

  “I mean, maybe we could . . . Umm . . . maybe we can put that off until we get to know each other first? Maybe grab a cup of tea sometime in the future before we go there?” the short girl’s pale Asian skin flushed, and she bit her lip as she answered.

  Locke, who had felt like he was on the defensive since the moment he joined the table mostly thanks to Reginald’s antics, started to realize the implications of what he had just asked. He was about to explain that he just meant that the only time he knew for certain that he was free was tomorrow and that he didn’t have any ulterior motives, but he wasn’t sure how to say that. “Tea sometime sounds great,” Locke responded somewhat sheepishly.

  “Shy, I have to say I’m really impressed. Here I thought you’d ask whatever her name was first, but I definitely mistook your character.” Reginald gave Locke a congratulatory pat on the back too. “You got a date without even knowing it.”

  “It’s not a date. It’s just tea sometime!” the girl said defensively and then giggled at the preposterousness of the situation. “Oh, that’s right, I’m Bo-ram.”

  “I’m Locke,” Locke said, finally telling his new friends his actual name. He knew he could trust them well enough not to worry about one of them saying something in the game. “But I’d still prefer to be called Shy in the game if that’s okay.”

  “Wait, Locke? Like Locke the blacksmith?” Tubal asked as he leaned in, curiosity even more piqued by this than his friend getting accidentally asked out.

  “Yeah, that’s a long story,” Locke answered with a shrug and then changed the topic. “It’s nice to finally meet you guys. It’s also nice to go out for something non-work-related. I think this is the first time I’ve gone out for drinks and a bite since . . .” Locke struggled to remember when the last time he went out.

  “Since last year’s convention?” Tubal took a stab at when it might have been before Locke could come up with an honest answer.

  “Since before the deer purge?” Rem joined in on the game.

  Is that something they do often? Locke wondered.

  “No, wait! I got it! It’s the first time you’ve been out since they came out with that stupid app, Three Pic?”

  “Three pick?” Locke feigned ignorance on the subject. He knew exactly what it was and absolutely hated it. Who could really tell any meaningful story in three quick pics and an editing tool. Locke grumbled to himself at the thought of the app, but even he had to admit it was still better than those idiotic five-second videos that seemed to bring out the silly or the stupid in people.

  “Oh, man, it really has been a while for him,” Reginald said with a laugh as he raised his hand and caught the attention of a nearby server. “Alright, first round is on me!”

  “Don’t expect me to pick up round two, mister rich,” Tubal said while finishing his drink of what looked to Locke to be nothing more than a coke.

  “Does anyone ever?” Sampson, or Bo-ram, as she was apparently called in real life, gave Tubal a cold look.

  “Hey!” Tubal started a rebuttal, then just shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted, the whole table chuckling.

  When the server came over, dressed in what looked like a tuxedo to match a host club from an anime, he ignored Reginald and went straight to Locke, whom he handed an exotic-looking martini. “Sir, the lady at the bar has requested I bring this to you on her behalf.” The server gave a slight bow as he passed over the drink, like it was the most delicate flower in the garden. Locke, feeling socially obligated to return the bow, started to lean his head forward, and the tuxedo-wearing servant whispered in his ear: “She tipped very well, so please at least say hello to her on my behalf.”

  “Got it,” Locke replied with a nod. He had worked enough jobs to know that an actual tipping client wasn’t the type a server could afford to offend, and knowing financial pain himself, he didn’t want to be the cause of that trouble for the poor guy who was definitely working hard for his dollar.

  “Thank you.” The server smiled and then turned to Reginald to take drink orders.

  While Reginald rattled off the drinks, Locke looked over at the girl the server had pointed out. He instantly felt that he recognized something about her. That, that can’t be . . . he mouthed as he looked in her direction. “I think I know her,” Locke said out loud as his mind started matching images of people he was familiar with.

  “Don’t tell me you recognize her just by her backside?” the first Master Chief asked.

  “I think that’s exactly what he is saying right now,” the other one responded.

  “This man’s eyes must be continuously drawn to women’s posteriors. He clearly has a passion for the gluteus muscles. I deduce that given Bo-ram’s real-life physique, he may want to consider asking a different woman out in the future,” Reginald said with a snobby Sherlock impression.

  “What are you trying--” Bo-ram started angrily, but Locke interrupted her.

  “Reginald, you’re gonna get yourself killed,” Locke said to his friend. “For a smart guy, you should know you never insult a pretty woman. It never turns out well. But this girl did buy me a drink, so it’d be rude if I didn’t at least thank her for it. Be right back,” he added hastily, excusing himself before the bloodbath started. He didn’t know how violent Bo-ram was in real life, but she did pick a Minotaur as her character when signing up for Tiqpa, so there was that.

  “Hello.” Locke flashed the best charming sm
ile he could as he approached the woman the server had pointed out. “I just came over to say thanks for the drink. I really appreciate it.”

  “Thanks for the drink, but not the view?” the girl laughed, taking a sip of her own drink.

  “Excuse me?” Locke asked, but he had a feeling he knew exactly what she was referring to. At the moment, though, he was still doing his best to put the puzzle of who she was together. She obviously knew him. Otherwise, that drink would have gone to Reginald, not him. Black hair, red eyes, nice . . .

  “The view, or were you going to tell some silly lie like you were just birdwatching?” she laughed. “We both know you’re not an ornithologist.”

  Birdwatching? Where have I heard that before? Wait, isn’t that what Sal and Sol and I used as an excuse when we got caught staring at a woman’s rear end? “I’m certainly not,” Locke admitted. “I apologize if it seemed like I was staring. I just thought I recognized you, and you did buy me a drink, so I was trying to figure out who you were . . . which I’m still stumped by.

  “I only bought you a drink because it just didn’t seem right for our friendly neighborhood alchemist to be short a concoction.” Her grin grew as she took another sip.

  “Wait, friendly neigh-- Your name isn’t Ash, by any chance, is it?” Locke had to ask.

  “No.” She put down her own drink and extended her hand daintily. “My name is Kass. What about you, handsome? Or do I have to buy another drink for that?”

  “No, I think the view was plenty enough to pay your debt,” he laughed, trying to make light of being caught. “I’m Locke, and thanks again for the drink.”

  “Locke? Well, you sure aren’t shy, admitting so freely to your eye’s interest.” She laughed and took another sip of her drink, the beverage nearly empty now.

  “So, do you, uhh . . . come here often?” He wasn’t sure how to make polite conversation with a girl--it had been a long enough time--but he had heard that line enough that he thought it might work.

  “Here? Often? No. You could say I’m usually always working, making sure my minions do as they’re told. You’d be surprised how hard it is to take care of a good team of minions, particularly one specific minion.”

  Locke might have had his doubts earlier, but he was certain now. This Kass was definitely Persephone, or Ash, or whoever she really was. Locke added all the clues together--the minion talk, Ash’s usual introduction, Persephone’s familiar ‘attributes,’ the birdwatching reference--and couldn’t help being a bit wide-eyed at the revelation, but he kept up the banter as best he could. “And here I thought it’d be more annoying trying to avoid a creepy boss like Gary.”

  “That it is, Shy. That it is.” Her grin flattened out like a depressed musical note. “But when a minion disappears after I go through such lengths to make sure he is well taken care of, and his sister is taken care of . . . Well that just leaves a lady downright ornery. I mean, we did a little bit . . . but there is a lot left to accomplish, and you just up and leave to go work on your personal projects like I never even mattered.”

  “I’m pretty sure I did enough advertising for you, didn’t I? Shouldn’t the Alchemist class be booming by now?”

  “You really haven’t noticed? There are no other Alchemists, Locke. I thought you would have figured out why by now. I thought you’d have understood more about Tiqpa too. Or did you never watch your surroundings, pay attention to your busty companion as you murdered your way through problem after problem with her?” She shook her head. “Look, I’ve only come here to let you know that I’ll be contacting you after your lunch tomorrow. Do not disappoint me.” Her amicable expression, which had entirely faded, returned instantly.

  Locke was in a stupor from the revelations she had just dumped on him, and all he could do was stare at her in silence. A deer caught in the headlights was the type of expression that wouldn’t do justice to his mute shock at all--which was only made worse as she leaned in, as if to whisper something in his ear, and instead slipped something into the external pocket on his robe while kissing his cheek.

  “Just a little something for you and a little something to leave her jealous,” she said as she stood up. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave nice and slow so that you can enjoy it. I know how much you like to stare, and I am a good master to my minions,” she purred with a laugh before turning to walk out of the bar swaying her hips as deliberately as possible.

  What. The. Heck? Locke did his best to collect himself as quickly as he could, but he still sat where he was for a few minutes after she had left before returning to the table where Reginald and the rest of them were having drinks. Thankfully, he found a tall beer waiting on him. Half of him wanted to immediately reach into his pocket and see what the note was, but the other wanted to wait until he was alone later so that there wouldn’t be any prying eyes. The latter half won.

  “Now why on earth did you blow that girl off?” Reginald asked as Locke sat down in the chair next to him. “I mean, she was clearly into you, and she had your favorite property. What gives?”

  “Clearly he isn’t the type to shoot random bullets,” Sparky, or Rem as she wanted to go by here, said while twirling her toy gun. “He already knew he had himself a little miss a-waitin’ back home, so he cleaned up the deed rather politely and returned to where he belonged.”

  “That goodbye kiss must have been something. Took him quite a while to stand up,” the yellow Master Chief said, and then gave a weird laugh that the voice changer turned into something even funnier than she, or he, had just said.

  “That’s the truth,” Tubal said as he raised his cup. “How about we give a nice toast? To the newest member of the Blue Phoenix Brigade. Cheers!” he said, clinking his glass to the others as they all downed their beverages.

  For the rest of the afternoon, and on into the night, the group enjoyed their meal, laughed and teased each other, and went from booth to booth admiring every costume that walked past them. It was a fun day for Locke, and even though it was entirely out of character for him, and the curiosity was definitely there, he couldn’t help but keep his hand out of his bathrobe pocket and off the envelope Kass had given him. After all, for all Locke knew, opening that note might spell opportunity, the chance to plan ahead, prepare for new business, work harder and longer and get even further ahead--but as much as Locke was one to leap at such possibilities, looking at Kass’ parting gift would likely put an end to the good thing he had going on right at that moment. So, in the end, for that day at least, he did his best to ignore the envelope--it could wait, after all--and just enjoyed the drinks and laughs with his new friends.

  Bonus Chapter: Memories of Eliza

  Eliza pulled up hard on the reins of her Blue-Drake and felt it fight against her. The massive, winged beast was willing to let her climb aboard its back and carry her as a passenger, but the prospect of responding to every nuanced flick of her heels or tug of the reins with a battle raging around them was still beyond its capabilities. It was newly spawned, skittish by nature and had proven itself to be far too green and untrained to be pressed into service. The sound of mages’ fireballs as they hissed past and exploded in the sky above them had set it on edge at the beginning of the battle, and she had been forced to spend as much time preventing the mount from fleeing the engagement outright as she had spent actually fighting.

  She wrapped the stiff leather around the palm of her left hand in order to get a better grip and jerked upwards on the reins as hard as she could with both hands. She felt the thick, corded muscles underneath its wings tighten under her command and the rush of air surge around her as the serpent finally responded to her commands.

  “By the name of the Great Lord . . .” Eliza muttered, stopping just short of actually cursing the foul beast. She had managed to regain control before it reached its intended target, a cluster of well-protected mages in the enemy’s backline, but not before completely breaking formation and leaving the ranks of her own comrades far behind.

  The sergea
nt is going to kill me for this. Eliza cringed at the thought as memories flickered through her mind of the first time she had seen one of the other soldiers disciplined for failing to perform his duty admirably during battle. Poor Edward had been dressed down in front of the entire army and hundreds of the newcomers for failing to kill more than one hundred and eighteen people during the siege of Mt. Lawlheima by War General Alex himself. Not only was he shamed by having his failure put on display for all to see, he was busted back to training maneuvers. The message was clear, and everyone present had easily picked up on it: Either perform to the Great Lord’s expectations or suffer the consequences. Ever since then, discipline within the ranks had been nearly flawless.

  Eliza felt a small thread of panic threaten to race through her, and she almost shuddered as she briefly considered what her punishment would be if she was caught this far away from her assigned squadron. No. Not now. Focus on the fight. There is no room for fear on the battlefield, and I don’t have time to think about what might come later. Maybe I can still save this somehow. She pushed those concerns out of her head and forced down the feeling before it could take root and overwhelm her.

  She pulled up on the reins again, and her Blue-Drake responded with furious flaps of its wings as it flew further upwards. When she finally reached what she felt like was a safe height, she leaned forward from where she sat astride the beast and craned her neck until she could peer down at the enemy’s formation below her. Nothing she saw indicated that The Holy Alliance was using any tactic similar to what they had during their previous few engagements.