Page 6 of The Noble's Merman

The water swayed and splashed lightly, and then?—

A shirtless young man with the most peculiar hair he’d ever seen peeked his head out from behind the stone.

“Good evening,” the young man said with a smile.

Kent grinned back, breath caught in his mouth. “You… yes, good evening! Oh Lord, there really was a man out here!”

The man behind the rock was about a dozen or so feet away from him, chest-deep in the water. Kent could see him quite clearly as the setting sun shone over his wet features: a dashingly handsome face, pink and dark red scars littered all over his pale skin, and unnaturally two-toned long hair—mostly dark brown, with patches of blond framing his face.

“A man, you say? Well, yes, I am a man… of sorts.” He laughed, brushing his wet fringe away from his eyes. Something—something strange and golden was attached like glue to his forearm.

Kent raised a brow. “Of sorts? What do you mean? And—what are you doing in the water in the first place?”

“Ah, well, you see… I’m a rather good swimmer.”

“I can see that.” Kent chuckled. “But why swim out here? At twilight, all by yourself—did you come from Stubbington too?”

The man blinked. “Stubbing—ton? I—no, I did not.”

This interaction was only getting stranger and stranger. Kent pursed his lips. “Then where are you from?”

“The water.”

“The water. Huh.” Kent couldn’t help but playfully laugh again. This man must be joking with him. “You still didn’t answer my question: what are you doing in the water in the first place?”

“You want to know? Well…” The young man shrugged. “I assume there’s no reason to hide it.”

“Hide it? Hide what?”

He flashed a dazzling grin. There was something also strange about his bright white teeth. “I’ll show you.”

The young man leant back, resting a hand against the rock for what appeared to be stability, and?—

Jolting out of the water, waves splashing as it breached, was the same giant fishtail Kent had seen yesterday. There was no doubt.

Frilly brown and golden fins, attached to an azure blue tail, scales twinkling with water droplets.

“Ah! Oh… Oh, my God!”

Kent stumbled backwards and landed clean on his rear, pebbles scattering into the air from the impact.

“You’re…” continued Kent, “It—it can’t be! You’re a merman!”

The merman laughed so casually, appearing amused at Kent’s ridiculous response. Kent didn’t think he was over-exaggerating, no! A tried and true mythical creature was right in front of him—something he wasn’t even certain existed until this very moment. But he still had faith, and that faith blessed him for holding out. Here was a merman, in the flesh, laughing with him.

“Please, don’t be frightened. I won’t do you any harm. I only wish to speak with you,” said the merman. He swam a little closer, now sitting on the shallow ocean floor, waist-deep in water.

Kent stood back up, brushing and patting his breeches. “I apologize. I’m really, truly sorry, I… Well, as you can imagine, I’ve never seen a merman in person before! And here you are!”

It seemed like everything Kent said got a laugh out of the merman, and curiously, the rumble of that laughter made Kent’s chest fluttery and light. “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there? Oh, I don’t mean to be rude, I should introduce myself. My name is Mo.”

Kent blinked. “Mo? Just Mo?”

“Yes, just Mo. And you?”

Oh, how should he introduce himself? It would be quite strange to say his name formally like he would on any normal occasion: Kent Wilson, Viscount Fareham. And thus forth, his peers would solely address him as nothing other than ‘Lord Fareham’. Most people found the name ‘Kent’ to be strange, which was fine, they never had to call him that anyway. But Mo was a merman—he most likely had no sense of human nobility, titles, which names were common, and the like. Wouldn’t all that be so absurd and convoluted to him?

“My name is… Kent Wilson. But you can just call me Kent.” He rubbed the side of his neck.

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