Once Lost Lords (Royal Scales, Book 1)
Read Once Lost Lords (Royal Scales, Book 1) Online
Authors: Stephan Morse
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Paranormal & Urban, #Science Fiction, #Alternate History, #Alternative History
Royal
Scales
Book
1, Once Lost Lords
Story
by
Stephan
Morse
Copyright
©
2015
by Stephan Morse
All
rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be
reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.
Events
portrayed are based on alternate reality fiction.
First
Publishing, 2016
Cover
Art includes a modified photo originally found on
Aelathen's
DeviantArt page
.
The
unedited version may be found
here
.
Table
of Contents
Chapter
3 – They’re All Serious
Chapter
7 – It Always Gets Worse
Chapter
12 – Adopted by an Elven House
Chapter
14 – Employee Fitness Day
Chapter
17 – Pretty Good Illusion
Chapter
18 – Elf, Wolf, Human, Vampire?
Chapter
21 – Adapted to Darkness
Chapter
22 – Almost According To Plan
Elves had strange habits. Their nature turned them compulsive to the
point of physical distress. No two shared the exact same problem
either. Oh well. Everyone was addicted to something.
There were two at the far end of the bar, made obvious by thinner
features, pointed ears, and a gaze that acted like others barely
existed. One was a blonde female with ironed in curls and giant pitch
black glasses. She wore an equally dark hat which extended
circularly.
The male was fairly disheveled. His suit was halfway tucked in and
covered with fresh coffee stains. Even sullied, those threads were
worth a lot, probably three times my entire wardrobe's value. He
counted out coins from a child’s piggy bank while taking up
half the counter. Both elves had almost ground down the bartender’s
patience. As it was she could barely stop her eyes from rolling.
“I’ll be with you in a moment, Jeff.” The bartender
said.
Jeff was a new name for an old haunt. False names would help keep me
unnoticed. Letting people know Jay Fields was back in town would
surely bring unwanted attention. I had been in lots altercations
during my lifetime. Of course, the word altercations equated to
punching people in the vitals. Repeatedly.
A guy has to have a hobby.
“No rush, Julianne,” I answered while saluting her
suffering with a raised shot glass. Tasty caramel and cinnamon
trickled down my throat bringing calmness to the late evening.
Drinking was glorious after my self-imposed banishment from this bar.
Four years had passed since I sat here. Those travels had ended less
than a month ago. Julianne turned up the next morning demanding two
things. A hug, and rent money. She owned the bar outright and spent
her nights behind the counter serving drinks to poor saps like me.
The apartment complex next door was also hers.
Tonight’s amusement, the male elf, had lost count again and
started over with his pile of change. He had been trying to pay off
some of his tab before Julianne would serve the sap another glass.
Elven addicts often got silly ideas in their heads. This particular
slant eared man looked to be addicted to a beer that only Julianne
could serve him. For her, it meant revenue. The fact that he had a
change jar out in desperation meant that his family didn’t know
about his habit or didn’t support it. Or part of his ritual was
to steal the money from a kid’s piggy bank.
“No, no, no, not again.” He was muttering while shakily
moving coins back and forth.
Elves have a hard time focusing when the withdrawals hit. This sap
was one step away from throwing chairs. If he turned violent I would
do something. Such as hitting him with a bottle. Repeatedly.
Following that would be another name change and laughing.
“Look, leave that on the counter, I’ll sort it out.”
Julianne and the elf were both increasingly frustrated.
“Would you, please?” He sounded desperate and groggy.
“Sure. I’ll serve it just the way you like it, but next
time, you’re settling the bill with something bigger than
coins.”
“I can do that.” He took a breath to steady himself.
Julianne tactfully lifted a painted eyebrow. “I will pay you
with something other than a piggy bank.”
Julianne didn’t waste any time and poured out a beer. She
placed an olive inside with a little polka dotted umbrella. For a
final touch, she threw in three ice cubes with a bit of grape soda.
It looked like something a trucker would drink mixed with a martini.
Their addictions always seemed like strange combinations. Not only
physical, some craved certain situations, or places, or emotional
rushes. Living with a need to fulfill some ridiculous craving must be
hard.
Who was I to judge? I tilted back another shot glass. Only two more
remained untouched on the counter.
Sipping his drink had a near immediate impact on the shaky elf. The
shrewd edge to his narrow features took over and he gave the bar a
once over. Elves were self-conscious about their weaknesses. Instead
of panicking I downed the last two shots, hoping I blended in as
another drunken patron. Mumbling to myself might help sell the act.
Or singing along with the radio. No, his sober blonde guardian
probably memorized my face. It wasn’t difficult to do. Buzzed
brown hair, a light tan, brown eyes with a hint of amber or ruby.
Beyond my linebacker size and a nose that had been broken several
times, which had never healed right, my features were forgettable.
While both elves wore clothes that screamed money, she gave off a
different vibe. Watchful, playful, and prone to sudden mood shifts.
Maybe it was the glasses. It was hard to tell where she was looking
with those monstrous shades. Or my tipsy mind naturally assumed I was
being inspected. They made their way to the exit, leaving the pile of
unsorted coins and a half empty jar behind. As the blonde one passed
by me she lifted the shades for a moment, displaying a pair of purple
and green tattooed eyes. She stuck her tongue out and flicked it in
my direction. Her departing stride commanded attention. I would bet a
grand on her addiction relating to bedroom activities.
“So, Jeff, rent’s past due.” Julianne snuck up on
me while swaying hips caused a distraction. Hopefully, I didn’t
look guilty as my vision swerved back to her. Small shot glasses
clinked together as she cleaned.
“It is.” My unconscious lisp drew out the second word.
“Got my money?” She asked. There was a moment where I
considered various excuses. None would go over well. Julianne
disliked people getting between her and money.
“I take it that’s a no. Good.” She said. Both my
eyes crossed in momentary confusion. Being unable to pay rent was
bad, wasn’t it?
“Good?”
“Good. I need a favor instead.” Julianne said.
“Hell.” I slid my face down to the counter with a groan.
“Relax, it won’t be as bad as last time.”
“That’s what you said before.” Last time was nearly
four years ago.
“Did I?” She was adorable when playing confused. Damn her
tiny self. I settled for glaring at Julianne with one eye since my
other was pressed shut against the polished top of the bar.
“So about my favor.” Her hands went onto the counter-top.
“How much is it worth?” I asked.
“I’ll clear part of your tab and a month’s rent.”
Her offer was decent. My apartment was reasonably cheap. The small
building consisted of three. Mine had a top floor and a nice
basement. It was cool and dark and quiet, all things perfect.
“Two months.” I raised two fingers.
“Two months, two jobs.” She countered and tipped her
head.
“You call them jobs like you’re paying me.”
“Paying off what you owe.” Which was a fair point. I did
owe, these shots weren’t cheap like beer.
“Semantics.” My arm waved in the air while I tried not to
slur.
“I’ll make the second one easy.” Julianne offered.
“How easy?”
“Too easy.” She smiled, showing startlingly white teeth.
Julianne, now that I thought about it, looked a lot like the shot I
drank. Short, and cinnamon-tinted caramel. Not a single serving
woman, though, she had firmly rejected me and half the other hopefuls
who staggered in over the years.
“Too easy is a 'no thanks', I’ll take the first job.”
She shuffled around some glasses behind her counter and unlocked a
safe located behind the bar. Seconds later she produced two tiny
black velvet bags.
“You sure? Easy second month’s rent.” She lifted
the second bag and nodded her head towards it.
I shook my head no and took the first bag.
“Too easy.” I threw the words back at her with a half
smirk and went about fondling the bag she handed me. She grinned in
return while waiting for me to open the pouch. I eyed her and dumped
the container out over the bar.
A lock of black hair wrapped in a purple ribbon fell out. A lock that
I recognized right away, if not for the color of the ribbon and hair,
then for the scent alone. Crushed peppermint leaves, not sweet like
the candy, a bitter smell.
“No.” I pushed it away.
“Come on, Jay, you promised. It’s this or pay up.”
“No. Not doing it.’ My face was still planted on the
counter-top and almost eye level with Julianne. “Not worth it.”
“I think it’s worth it.” The little Indian girl was
pouting with both arms crossed over her chest. A bell noise from the
door signaled more evening guests arriving.
“You sadistic bitch,” I muttered it to myself. Julianne
had already turned away. She was busy preparing for new customers.
I closed both eyes and tried to wish the lock of hair away.
That failed.
Julianne glanced my way between filling drinks. I tried to plead the
seventh, which had something to do with being too drunk for decision
making. Unfortunately, she didn’t buy my inebriated act. The
truth was I didn’t have rent money and could use a chunk off of
my bar tab, but I wasn’t an addict twitching for a fix like the
elf was. I never let myself be driven to an extreme for money.
Making money with my skills was difficult. Punching people. Tracking
down lost goods. Getting a newspaper ad would result in uncomfortable
questions once the government looked my way. Questions about a
Western passport or something about taxes. Official licensing and
forced government contracts. Blood draws, DNA tests, none of which
were topics I wanted to get into. My family had never put me in the
system.
Julianne offered a means for income, even if I hated the current
option. I waited for her to travel back my way before trying to
escape impending doom.
“What was the other job?” I asked.
“Defaulted personal loan,” She responded quietly.
That was a not so clever code for someone who didn’t pay on
Julianne’s second business. Loans which revolved around sports
gambling. It wasn’t the money lending that was illegal exactly,
it was the methods used when someone slipped on payments. Four years
ago collections had been my job.
“Can I have that instead?”
She stared at me for a moment and then went back to serving other
customers. I should be happy she gave me the legal job and not a
potentially illegal one.
“Fine. I’ll need more drinks first.” My throat felt
dry just looking at the hair. Bless her. Julianne was decent enough
to stay quiet while loading up two additional shots. I had a high
tolerance for alcohol and an equally high bar tab. She grinned from
ear to ear in amusement. My middle finger raised in response once she
turned away.