Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Chapter 52 - Not a fish
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 15:27:35 +0000 UTC“What seems to be the problem, Lieutenant?” Johnson asked as he strode into the Cod with his helmet tucked under one arm. He was still full
“What seems to be the problem, Lieutenant?” Johnson asked as he strode into the Cod with his helmet tucked under one arm. He was still fully armoured; I had a feeling he probably slept in it.
“This peasant laid hands on an officer of the Third! You don’t touch a Romper and get away un-romped, Johnson!” snapped the erstwhile fondler of my lady friend.
“Seeing as I’m suddenly back on duty, it’s Captain Longfellow, Wilson. Perhaps this is something that ought to be handled behind closed doors, rather than in front of the crowd? Sir Bob, do you have somewhere that we might discuss this privately?”
“Esme?” I asked. She nodded and took my arm to lead us through into the kitchen. “Jenny, please join us?” I called out as the two soldiers followed us. She hopped down from her stool and came along; I didn’t want to leave her out in the bar with the unsupervised soldiers.
“I’m glad we only had ale. I don’t think I’d want to eat anything prepared in this shithole!” muttered Wilson. My hand flicked out and caught Esme’s wrist as she cocked a fist.
“Lieutenant Pratnip, please give me your version of events,” asked Longfellow, once the curtains leading to the bar had swung down behind Jenny. He was getting straight down to business and also letting me know this could be serious. Oh great. A spoiled noble.
“I was happily drinking when this oaf slammed the door in the hairy bitches face and forgot about her! Before that, this feisty wench ignored-urk!”
“Sir Bob, please put my subordinate down,” Longfellow said patiently.
I lowered the squirming bastard to the floor and released his throat reluctantly. On the plus side, he no longer had a dagger to gut-stab me with as he swung from my fist.
“Thank you. Young lord, perhaps refrain from offering insults to women, as befits your father's honour, and simply report the facts as clinically as possible?” Longfellow said. I was starting to feel sorry for the captain. He appeared to be the anthropomorphisation of a sigh.
“Sir. I was receiving an order of drinks from this–from the barmaid, when this scoundrel arrived and she abandoned all propriety and threw herself on him like a–” he cut himself off as I narrowed my eyes, ”like a kitten on a codhead.”
“Miss? I don’t wish to put you in this position, but is Lieutenant Pratnip's version of events largely correct?”
“The little lord is leaving out a few things worth mentioning. He was very touchy-feely with me when I was delivering his friends' drinks. And Bob is my beau, he’s been in the big city for a few weeks, and I’ve missed him.” She slipped a hand into mine and smiled at the captain. “I was just excited to see him again!”
“Hmm. I didn’t think you were lying when we met at the gate.” Johnson said to me. “Lieutenant, did you lay hands on this woman?”
“What does it matter what I did to this peasant who–” He stopped as my head swung round and I gave him a level three smile. “Woman. I refute the accusation.” Longfellow pinched the bridge of his nose with the fingers of one hand and closed his eyes.
“It matters, Wilson, because you are an officer of the Third and are expected to maintain a certain level of decorum at all times. Your father charged me with… Nevermind. Lieutenant Pratnip, you are remanded to barracks for the next seventy-two hours and are to avoid this establishment until I give you permission to return. I trust this is satisfactory, Sir Bob?” I shrugged as Pratnip sputtered and fumed.
“Johnson! You know this won’t… My father! I’ll see you defrocked for this! The Rompers don’t fuck our own!” he snarled.
“Wilson, get the fuck out of my sight. And take your squad with you. They’re barred to.”
The young man stood doing the goldfish face for a couple of seconds, then stormed out, snatching the curtain down and kicking it ahead of him as he went.
“He’s always been trouble that one—my thanks for not doing any permanent damage.”
“Where’s the beer?” called a voice from the bar. “I’m thiiiirrsstyyy!”
“Oh, that’s my cue! Jenny, a pleasure to meet you. I’ll see you later, handsome,” Esme said. She leant up and kissed my cheek, squeezing one bicep and one buttock at the same time. Jenny snorted. She was standing behind me.
“What is it you want, my lovelies?” Emse said as she made her way back into the bar and started filling tankards.
“Can we sit?” asked Johnson, waving at the central table.
“Sure. I’ve got a bottle of the good stuff, if you’re off duty again?”
The pair of them sat down while I pulled three clean-ish-looking glasses from a sink and wiped them down till they shone. I produced a bottle of Golden Jack and poured out three measures as I sat down.
“Your health!” I tipped back my shot and savoured the burn as I topped my glass back up. The others sipped carefully at the expensive whisky.
“That was a bit tense!” Jenny blurted. “I was impressed with your self-control, Bob! If I were you, I’d have eaten that prick!” I winced ever so slightly at her turn of phrase, but the captain was staring into his cup of amber liquid like it held the secrets of the universe.
“He was a good kid.” He took another sip, then looked up and met my eyes. “But he isn’t anymore. His dad wants me to turn him into a man. Huh.” He drained the glass and slid it towards me over the table. I obliged and topped it off. “My apologies, Jenny, that isn’t how the Third comports itself, as a rule.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve seen the soldiers passing through Baginton often enough, and heard far worse!” She took another sip. “I’ve never seen the Rompers in person, but I’ve heard of you.”
“It’s a proud regiment. A long tradition of glory and sacrifice. We fought at the Mounds against Hagrip Redballs’ invasion. Held the line against the Flowinghair Juniper’s raiders in the west. I won my commission in that battle. My squad held Elspeth’s Farm and bought time for the rest of the Rompers to reorganise and flank the Elves.” He sighed and drained his glass. “The boy will be a problem. He’s grown up coddled. Old Pratnip came up from the ranks, but Wilson… he’s come up through nannies and guards and getting everything his own way.” I pulled his glass over and topped it up, then pushed it back to him.
“I don’t see why this has to be my problem. I’m a humble businessman with no interest in politics. If you need any help with whatever your mission might be, I’ll be happy to oblige, but otherwise, I just want to make the Cod the swingest bar in the town and live a quiet life.” Jenny snorted, and I glared at her, but Johnson didn’t seem to be listening.
“Never wanted to come north.” Christ, a couple of whiskies later, and he went from solid professional to maudlin uncle. “But here we are. I don’t think you can help, Bob. Foreverknot is playing games, and we’ve been dispatched to make sure Fidler’s Mill continues to pay its dues to its rightful lord.”
“So it’s just court politics?”
“Alas, Bob, politics trumps everything else. I’m just praying the Fuderation decides to finally make their move. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long few months of trying to stop that prick accidentally fomenting a rebellion by being a prick.”
“The Fuderation?” asked Jenny. “I don’t want those lunatics anywhere near me! Bob, you never mentioned this!”
“You knew what you were getting–”
“You just take the bait every time, don’t you?!” She smirked and took another sip of her liquor. “It’s a good space in here. What make of cookers did you get?”
“Ramificin’s Roasters? The guy said they were good, and Tex agreed. Mind you, that was on the way to his publisher of dubious repute. Tex probably just wanted to get on with it.”
“I just wanted to get on with it. I should be a Major, you know? I had time in rank over Jeremiah, and that ass Gonflagon. But no, I’m stuck playing babysitter.” Longfellow put his chin on top of one fist and slugged down the rest of his whisky. I looked at the bottle. That was half of a very expensive litre of booze gone in less than ten minutes. I adjusted my bright orange ascot and poured myself another glass. What the hell.
“They’re good cookers. Should be able to fit them over there if we move the dressers. That’ll be fine, right?” Jenny asked as she waved at the wall opposite the hearth.
“It was meant to be fine! I saved Diego’s life back at the Rummy Fort! I saved the bloody day! But no, no one loves Johnson. Johnson leaves a bad taste in their mouths! Bastards!” I carefully slid the bottle as far away from the maudlin lily-liver as possible.
“So this will work! Where’s the flour? I’ve brought a fair bit, but we’ll need some bulk supplies soon.” Jenny patted her knapsack. Her efforts to derail the thoughts of the suddenly manic-depressive captain were to no avail, as he began muttering about obnoxious brats, the ingratitude of the brass, and the vagaries of the soldiering life.
“That sounds good, Jen. We’ll get them moved. If Esme doesn’t have a room for you, you can stop at my place for a few days.” Jenny blanched at the thought.
“Oh, we’ve got a spare room for our lovely baker! Don’t worry about that. Say you’ll stay with us, Jenny?” Esme breezed back into the kitchen.
“Oh. Ok?” Jenny sputtered.
“Yes! We can cook in the morning and put the world to rights as we prep for the day! It’ll be lovely to have a friend staying at the Cod.”
“I’d like to stay at the Cod. Beautiful women, and hairy ones. Good food and excellent drinks!” He drained his glass, and I had no intention of topping it off again. “Comfy food and warm beds! But no! I have to go back to the barracks!”
“There, there, captain. Everything looks better in the morning.” Esme gently lifted his elbow, and he rose to a parade rest like it was programmed into him as a standard stance. “You’ll see! You’ll rise a brand new Johnson on the morrow!”
He looked back and forth with unfocused eyes. He seemed to shake for a moment. It was almost imperceptible, but my instinct to leap on anything that I was afraid of had triggered. I was like a kitten faced with a laser pointer. When food quailed, I wanted to pounce and kill. I silently thanked my stupid ascot.
“I’ll take my leave. If you have any further prouble with Rumpers, please bring them to my attenshun!” On the last word, he ripped off a parade ground salute and pivoted on his heel to stalk out the door.
“Bye, Captain!” Esme called. “Well, at least that obnoxious twat of a lieutenant won’t be a problem anymore!” she muttered after he staggered out into the bar and started shouting at the troopers in the front room.
“I wouldn’t count on that. Nobles are always trouble,” Jenny grumbled.
“It will be fine now that Bob’s back! I believe you’ve forgotten something, sweetie?” she said in a syrupy voice. I refilled my glass and slid it over to her. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” She drained the glass in one swallow. Her chest heaved as the warming liquor flowed down to her stomach. “If you are, it’s working. I believe you promised me a gift?”
“You’ll like this!” I said as my brain began to function again. I moved over to an open space and pulled the new sign out of storage.
“A board of wood? Sad to say, but I’ve received better gifts,” she said softly.
“Hang on!” I fumbled around at the side, looking for the crystal I needed to tap to make it light up. After a moment, I found it and poked it. The kitchen was suddenly lit by garish neon colours. ‘The Swinging Cod’ glowed brightly, colours rippling across the words projected from the board. Beneath it was a wavy blue line, also garishly bright, and a silvery fish head kept bobbing up out of the water and dancing.
“What do you think?” I asked worriedly. I could always give her a copy of Jandak’s Juxtapositional Joy if this were a flop, but I wasn’t sure how she’d interpret that as a fallback gift.
There was a P-TING as something hit a spitoon at terminal velocity. Benton had arrived.
“This look like a fishing town, boy? The cod that swings ain’t no fish.”
Comments
DeadSlime
>Got a repeat for the first paragraph
