Chapter 3
Copyright J.B. Norman
Life in Middlesbrooke continues to be as dull and dreary as ever. And Lucia, Apolline, and Petra continue to be just as jobless and broke as ever. They’re no closer to fixing up Great-Uncle Pollux’s house and since they’ve been stuck in town without any real work, they’ve now got less money than they did when they first arrived in Middlesbrooke.
Although the well-dressed, well-bred customers of the coffeehouse give the three out-of-town adventurers a wide berth, looking disapprovingly down their noses — when they acknowledge Lucia, Apolline, and Petra are there at all — the woman who owns the coffeehouse and her husband are the silver lining to the three adventurers’ time in Middlesbrooke.
Her name is Anya. She’s a little older than Lucia’s parents with greying hair, a round face, and a round everything else. She’s friendly in a way that reminds Lucia of her mom, only without the furry ears and tail. She might talk a little too much, a little too eagerly, and a little too loud, but she brings them free food. Her husband pretends not to be looking and then melodramatically wonders where that plate of cookies went.
“No luck today, either?” Anya asks, setting down a plate on their table.
“We almost got hired by a goatherd looking for help with his flock,” Petra tells her.
“He even offered to pay us in advance,” Lucia adds.
“But only in goat cheese,” Apolline concludes.
“Oh,” Anya says. “That’s too bad. Well, we could always use some help in the kitchen. I know it’s not the kind of work you adventuring types are looking for, but we’ll be sure to pay you a fair wage.”
“And in real money, not cheese,” her husband calls from the kitchen.
Apolline smiles. “Thank you. We’ll keep that in mind.”
Lucia instinctively hisses, tenses, and extends her claws as the door of the coffeehouse is kicked open.
“Sorry,” the man standing in the doorway says sheepishly. “I, uh, I thought it was a pull door.”
The first thing Lucia notices about him is that he’s big — very big. He’s taller and even more muscular than Petra, with arms that Lucia feels are about as big as she is herself. He’s dressed in expensive clothes and looks like a nobleman, but he’s got his sleeves rolled up and his collar undone in a decidedly un-nobleman manner. His red hair falls to his shoulders and his kept out of his face by a blue headband.
A small, dark-skinned girl follows close behind him, wearing the same kind of expensive clothes. She looks about twelve but seems small for her age, and seems that much smaller standing in the shadow of such a giant of a man. As her large companion boots open the door, she smiles apologetically to the coffeehouse’s proprietors and patrons.
With a grin, the big man slides into one of the empty chairs at the three adventurers’ table. The girl hops onto the chair beside him.
“So,” the big man says, “I’ve heard it through the grapevine that there’s a group of adventurers in town looking for work?”
Lucia’s ears perk up and she leans forward over the table in anticipation.
“Well, yes,” Apolline answers. “That is the situation.”
“Excellent,” the big man says. “And do you happen to know where I might be able to find them?”
“Uh, Roland?” the girl sitting beside him mutters, only to be ignored.
Lucia’s ears droop and she slumps back into her seat. However, Apolline interjects with the diplomacy and politeness that has made the Auroreans famous peacemakers and negotiators in Realmgardian politics. “That would be us,” she says.
“Great!” the big man exclaims, grinning broadly. “Consider yourselves hired.”
Petra, Lucia, and Apolline stare blankly at him.
“What? You’re adventurers looking for work. I’m looking for adventurers. Let’s get going,” the big man says.
“You’re being rather, uh, forward,” Apolline notes. “You haven’t even told us your name.”
“Oh. Where are my manners? I’m Roland,” he says, still grinning broadly.
“And who’s the kid?” Lucia asks, pointing with a clawed hand.
“I’m Alda,” the girl sitting beside Roland says. “I’m his sister. And, like, his assistant, I guess.” She waves. “Hi. Oh, can I touch your ears? They look soft!”
“Can I touch your ears?” Roland asks.
Lucia ignores them. “The kid’s your sister?” she asks. “You look nothing alike.”
“We’re adopted,” Alda explains.
“Well, yeah. She’s really my sister,” Roland adds, “but she might not actually be my sister, you know?”
“No,” Lucia answers simply.
“We grew up on the streets,” Roland continues. “I don’t really remember my parents, or even ever having parents. All I can remember is that it’s been me and Alda since forever. So, she might not be my sister, but she’s still the only family I’ve ever had.”
Alda nods in agreement with her brother.
“So, anyway, it’s like I said. You’re looking for work. I need some adventurers to work with. The math seems pretty simple to me,” Roland concludes. “And, like, money’s no issue, so don’t even worry about it.”
Again, Alda nods.
“And what exactly is it that you do, Mr. Roland?” Apolline asks.
“Your physique is impressive,” Petra notes. “You must be quite a skilled fighter.” Half-Troll by birth and a graduate of the training undertaken by all young Amazons, she’s something of an expert in the fields of combat and physical aptitude.
“Actually,” Roland answers, “I’ve learned a bit about boxing and wrestling, but I’m mainly an alchemist.”
Lucia stares at him. “Seriously? An alchemist?”
Roland doesn’t look like most alchemists Lucia has ever met. In fact, he looks like he could eat most of the alchemists she’s ever met. In one sitting. And still have room for dessert.
“Yeah. You should see the lab Uncle Chuck built for us,” Roland says with a proud nod.
“Wait,” Apolline interjects. “Uncle Chuck? As in Charles?”
Roland nods.
“As in Duke Charles?”
Roland nods again.
“As in the Duke?”
“Yeah,” Roland says. “Is there more than one Duke of Middlesbrooke?”
Lucia’s surprise makes her shriek as if someone just stepped on her tail. “You’re royalty? You?”
Roland shakes his head. “Oh, no. Technically, we’re just his wards. I mean, I’m not going to be the next Duke, or anything.”
Apolline is the first of the three to recover and recompose herself. “Thank you for meeting with us, Sir Roland. Would you let me confer with my associates for a minute?”
Lucia, Petra, and Apolline huddle together as Roland continues to grin and Alda waves hopefully at them.
“Doesn’t he seem a little dense to you?” Lucia asks, glancing over to Roland as he asks Anya why they’re called bullfrogs if they don’t have horns. “No? Just me?”
“I think he seems quite nice,” Apolline notes. “Besides, I want to see his alchemy abilities for myself.
“And if he’s no good at alchemy, then what?” Lucia asks. “Are we going use him as a battering ram?”
Apolline sighs. “Be nice, Lucia. I doubt Duke Charles will be very happy if you go and personally offend one of his wards.”
“Yeah. That’s just what we need,” Lucia mutters. “This town already seems to hate us. We don’t need to end up tossed in jail.”
“It might be helpful to make connections with the nobility here,” Petra offers.
“That is true,” Lucia concedes.
“Besides,” Apolline continues. “He’s the only one who’s tried to hire us so far.”
“That is also true.”
The three break the huddle and turn back to Roland, who is still grinning to the point of being more smile than face.
“We would be honoured to work with you, Sir Roland,” Apolline says.
Roland and Alda turn to each other, grin widely and high-five.
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