Courting Trouble (Chapter 4) (Patreon)

 Index
Chapter 1
Chapter 2  
Chapter 3 

 Chapter 4

It was, excuse the pun, a bizarre scene. I was in the middle of a massive, underground cave, at least the size of a square block. Light poured from all sides—some from fires, others from unseen sources—in shades of oranges, reds and yellows. Buildings, stalls and kiosks made of stone and dark, almost black wood stretched out in all directions. The buildings were angled, crooked or strangely shaped, creating a surreal rendition of gothic London architecture. Beneath my feet was a peculiar arrangement of cobbles, as if they'd simply grown that way rather than being laid by hand.

But it wasn’t just the architecture. The people—for lack of better word—made me gape. Various creatures bustled by,some with long fingers and crooked noses, others monstrously tall, horns crowning their head and tusks jutting from their mouths. Elves drifted past, as if their feet barely touched the floor. Oddly enough, I thought I even saw a human or two in the throng.

As I stood there, mouth open, I drew a few glances. Some denizens actually stopped and stared back. To my left I heard a sound that sound like gravel being ground into dust and I turned to see a pair of knees. I looked up. And up. And further up, moving my eyes from a pair of massive shins, an enormous kilt, a sort of poncho until I met a pair of deep blue eyes set into a face like a mountainside.

“What wrong?” It said with a voice like a rockslide. Its distinctly Nordic accent threw me for a second, but I kept a straight face as it brushed its long, flowing beard and peered down at me.

“N-nothing,” I said, trying and failing to hide my stammer. I was used to being towered over by others, but this creature was something else. My eyes flicked to an enormous chair next to him. I met his curious gaze again. Probably a watchman, and not someone I wanted to get on the wrong side of. I cleared my throat. “Just my first time here.”

The massive man gave me a piercing look through one ice blue eye before sitting back on the chair. “Very vell,” he rumbled, picking up a book bigger than my chest and flipping it open to a page marked with a silk ribbon.

Pulling my eyes away from him before I caught his attention again, I stumbled into the street and tried to fight my disbelief.

As it turns out, the troll bazaar wasn’t just a market, but more like a small town. Living spaces, bars, gambling and various market stalls were crammed into the small cavern. The air was thick with the smell of herbs and spices, and I could hear the squarks, growls, and hisses of unseen animals in small, dingy cages. The only thing that drowned them out was the calls of the merchants themselves, bellowing slogans, sales, and savings to any potential customer.

As I walked through I caught conversations in tongues I didn’t understand, glimpsed sights that confused my sense of logic, and inhaled smells that ranged from disgusting to delightful.

It took several minutes of being immersed in the absolute chaos before I started coming to myself again. I flipped open my notepad and tapped the name written under the address. 

Several minutes later I was squat, unassuming pub wedged between some sort of library and large, crooked building marked with several symbols I didn’t recognize. It was comprised of a stone foundation and black wooden walls, with smoke caked glass cutting light to a minimum. The door was ajar slightly and the sounds of talk, the clinking of glasses, and the scraping of chairs drifted out into the street. Hanging above the door, swinging from a pole, a sign declared the establishment “The Black Cauldron”.

I stepped through the open door briskly, to be met with the passing attention of everyone inside. It wasn’t obvious that they were looking at me but I saw enough eyes flick to me to know that I registered on everyone’s radar. The single room had tables spaced around and the bar was lined with stools of varying heights, some only a foot off the ground and wide enough for two of me to sit on, others more narrow and nearly to the bar’s top.

The patrons were more mixed than the stools. A group of small, long nosed goblins were conversing in the corner. The other corner held a large, hulking thing, crouched so low and hunched so far over its plate I couldn’t tell how tall it was. There were a couple elves, their modern clothing in varying states of shabbiness. Jazz music came over a pair old, wooden box speakers in the corner, along with what looked like a 1940’s jukebox.

Behind the bar was some sort of near human creature. While I couldn’t be entirely sure, it looked male. He was over six feet tall and was built like two brick walls side by side. Stretched across his chest was a white shirt and apron that must’ve been custom made. His face was as craggy as stone or maybe heavily notched wood. He had an underbite and his lower lip was so thick it looked like it could’ve been brought up over his brow. Short, grey-green hair was cut close to his head in a caesar cut.

Acknowledging that I was now firmly the center of attention, I decided to change tactics, adopting a more casual posture. I strolled to the bar and sat on the best stool for my height I could find, my feet only ending up a few inches off the ground. I met the barman’s eye and said, “Anything to eat? Drink?”

A paper booklet was pushed over to me with one gnarled, thick finger. “New around here?” the thing asked in a calm, basso tone with the earmarks of a New Jersey accent on his words.

“Yeah,” I said, flipping nonchalantly through the menu. I was expecting old world food, like ale and mead, but instead I found soda, name brand beer, onion rings, chili—food you’d expect at any pub. “I’ll just have a root beer and some onion rings.”

I put down the money and a moment later a mug of root beer was clunked down in front of me, slopping some of it all over the bar. Pan fried onion rings were served up so quickly afterward I had to wonder if it was done by magic. I paused and then said, “I’m looking for somebody named Nemue.”

Immediately the creature frowned, its already menacing face becoming downright intimidating. He sized me up and said, “Why?”

I bit into a ring. For a second, I lost my train of thought as flavor flooded into my mouth. Again, I had to wonder if magic was involved or if they really were that good. Either way, I wasn’t complaining. A moment later, I reoriented myself. “I just need to talk to her is all, does she come here?”

Feeling eyes on me I glanced around at the tables, noticing that some of the elves were looking worried.

The barman scowled and leaned over, face uncomfortably close, his hooked nose inches from mine. “Yeah, she came here often. Not anymore. So if you’re going to drum up trouble, looking to drag her back to the court, you’re not going to find her here.”

I did my best to play dumb. Lying was a trait that comes in handy in the detective business and mine had been honed relatively well over years of practice. “I’m not. I’m just looking to talk to her. Is she in some sort of trouble?”

A voice like silk and honey danced around my ears. “If you’re a friend of Nemue’s, then maybe I can help.”