Chapter 9 – Moonlight Longsword and a Busty Waitress
Whispers began as people spoke to each other about the drawing of the older gentleman, but nobody volunteered any information about him to the soldiers. It didn’t seem like anyone recognized him.
“I’ll be leaving this notice here,” the royal captain said, his feathered plume bobbing up and down as he spoke. He took a knife and lined the wanted portrait up with the wall, and then stabbed the knife into the parchment, letting it hang from the wall in full display.
“Five thousand gold coins for anyone that knows where he is,” the captain declared.
One of the bar patrons spoke up. “What’s he wanted for?”
The captain stepped up a few steps, and then spoke. “Treason.”
With that, the three soldiers left the bar, leaving the noise of chatter to reclaim the room once more.
Devon had seen enough for today, and decided to head back to the apartment the madame left a key for.
But first, he wanted to talk to that waitress that caught his eye. He headed to the bar area near the kitchen and waited for the waitress to emerge from within.
A minute later, she walked out. Devon waved and greeted her. “Hey.”
The waitress smiled back. “Hi, do you need something?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “You.”
“You need me? What can I do for you?”
“Well, I thought you were very pretty, so maybe we can go have fun somewhere later.”
The busty waitress giggled, her long black hair shimmering as she laughed with the back of her hand against her mouth. “I’m flattered~ Alright, we can. But another day, okay? I have to work overtime today.”
“Sure,” Devon said, nodding. “I’ll be around this week. See you later.”
The waitress nodded, blushing slightly. “You know where to find me.”
As he headed out of the bar, Devon sighed. He really wanted to rape her tonight, but his old personality just kept getting in the way, and he ended up being extra nice to her and even asking her out on a date.
Oh well. He’d just have to vent out the conflicting emotions in his soul as frustration later tonight.
Wandering down the streets as the afternoon got darker, Devon took his time heading to the madame’s 33b apartment in the garment district. He knew where it was–it was in one of the more fancy neighborhoods in town, but he didn’t explore the entire town yet and was in no rush to go there so soon.
He walked by an armory, where a blacksmith was busy hammering on an anvil. The blacksmith looked up at him, with a practiced eye, scanning his attire.
“You, there. Where did a novice swordsman like you get a hold of a moonlight steel longsword?”
Devon looked around, and then realized that there was no one else nearby. The blacksmith had to be referring to him.
“Yes, I can recognize that telltale glint from a mile away, although the average person might miss it, since it looks similar to steel. Fabulous metal, moonlight steel… where did you get it?”
Devon felt a bit pestered by this old blacksmith, and even though he recognized that the blacksmith saw his sword as incredibly valuable, he found it hard to care. But after rethinking about it, and realizing that a valuable sword could fetch a good price if he ever wished to sell it, and a good price meant a possible night at Erika’s Sex Shop, his attitude began to shift.
“It was given to me by my father, but he never told me that it was moonlight steel.” Devon just made up a lie on the spot, so that he could probe the blacksmith for more info.
The blacksmith nodded knowingly, empathizing with the fictitious father’s sentiment. “Aye, and that was smart of him too not to tell you. Young boys would pawn off a sword like that in a heartbeat for a quick dime.”
“You should keep that sword safe, boy. Moonlight steel is a metal with special properties, and it is surprisingly malleable and springy. Although it will bend, it will not break even in the toughest of situations, and the metal itself has anti-werewolf properties as well as some other interesting properties.”
Devon yawned, barely listening to the explanation. Really, how was it going to help him? If he ever did run into a combat situation where monsters like werewolves overwhelmed and killed him, he would welcome death with open arms. He couldn’t give less of a shit about whether his sword had anti-werewolf properties or not, since he wasn’t going to use it anyway.
Now if it had anti-undead properties, perhaps it could work against his own never-dying regenerating body, and he’d pay a bit more attention…