Page 8 of The Noble's Merman

“Same to you, Kent. See you soon,” he said softly with a nod, as a promise he meant.

Kent gave Mo a wave, and the merman waved back. Then Kent made his way back up the beach, said a greeting to Biscuit, and tried his best to pat off the dirt stuck on the soles of his feet. As he sat down to put his stockings back on, he looked up, and—Mo was still there. But Mo noticed he got caught staring, as his eyes widened, skin flushing red out of embarrassment, and he rushed back into deeper water to cover himself behind the large boulder again. However, it seemed Mo couldn’t help peeking his head out.

Oh, how endearing. Kent could feel the skin on his own face heating up, too. He waved at Mo again after he buckled his shoes and stood back up. Mo waved as well, giving one last handsome smile before he dove under the water.

Kent couldn’t wait to return to his library, to dig into his books and find out more. Mo gave him a promise, too: next time, he would sing. Kent wondered if a merman’s voice truly was as beautiful as the stories said, and his heart beat with excitement, awaiting the next time they’d meet.

FOUR

When Kent arrived home, the first thing he did as he entered his rooms was rush to his library. He had a pamphlet collection on the topic of merfolk, tales and legends of a fantastical sort, though one particular leather-bound book stood out from the rest. It wasn’t told like a legend, it was written as if it were a monograph. Perhaps it was. Kent was never sure before, but now that he had true, living proof merfolk existed, the tales in that book very well might be fact.

It was late when Kent moved to his bedchamber to change down into his nightshirt. He untied the black hair ribbon, letting his curls flow freely over his shoulders. His valet, Turner, retrieved his clothes to be laundered before leaving Kent alone for the remainder of the evening. By the light of the candle on his nightstand, Kent sat on the downy sheets of his bed, opening up the tantalizing book that hopefully had some answers to his questions.

A Comprehensive History of Merfolk, as told by the sailor Michael Phillips, in part assisted by the mermaid Aen. He’d first acquired this book randomly at a traveling market a few years ago, and he’d read it countless times since, but now with the new knowledge he’d gained, he could see its information in a different light. Oh, how he sincerely wished to confirm with Mo if the things in this book were true.

But perhaps they were, since apparently the author had the help of a mermaid.

The first few pages had illustrations depicting male and female merfolk. A note at the bottom said that while the majority of them were mermen or mermaids, Aen had informed the author there was a minority that simply went as ‘mer’. The first drawing of a merman looked a bit similar to Mo, with his long wavy hair, fins on his forearms and hips, gills on his torso and neck, and a long, scaly fishtail. But the drawing lacked Mo’s unique scars scattered over his body, and his dashingly handsome face.

Handsome. It was simply an objective fact anyone with working eyes could see. It shouldn’t make Kent’s face flush with heat at the thought.

But, also… he said my voice was beautiful…

As he flipped through the pages, he read over descriptions of underwater cities, homes and grottos, and the great castle in a place called Portica. It all seemed so grand, how an entire civilization was hidden from humans, living full and free lives of their own. The ocean was vast—so much unexplored territory, so much humans could never even reach.

He turned another page, leading him to a section of merfolk families, courting, and reproduction. Kent’s heart thudded madly, breath hitching, and he shut the book before he could read more. He would read that section… later.

But then, a realization—he hadn’t seen anything yet in the text about merfolk acquiring legs. He opened the book back up, skimming through the headings, and landed on the very last chapter before he found anything on the subject. Going over the words carefully, he read about various myths and legends, ones Aen had been taught as a youngling. There was the famous tale of a mermaid who courted a human man, and a single kiss was all it took for her tail to split into legs. Another tale spoke of a different pair, of a merman who shifted into human form after having sexual relations with a human woman.

Oh Lord, does Mo know about these methods? This here speaks of a pair of opposite sex, though would such a transformation still work with members of the same sex?

His heart rate quickened and his face warmed.

Has Mo tried this with a human? If he hasn’t, would he like to try...?

Kent was too terribly flustered at such an absurd thought that he couldn’t force himself to finish it. As he read on, he was able to calm himself—perhaps his worries were for naught. According to the author, Aen and him had done such things together, and yet, she had always remained a mermaid, and the transformation to become human continued to be a mystery.

He sighed, closing the book again. His heart sank at the thought—this book may be of no help to Mo at all. If such methods didn’t work for Aen, and if what was written was true, it wouldn’t work for Mo, either. But Kent still wanted to show the book to him. It would still be exhilarating to confirm with the merman the facts about his kind, to learn more about him, to hear his opinions, to befriend him.

A real, mythical creature wanted to see him, and thought his voice was beautiful.

Kent hadn’t been this excited for anything in… God knows how long. Even his sister could attest to that, consistently pulling him out of his melancholy when he’d confide to her this past year. Perhaps finding a merman was exactly what he needed. Something to look forward to, a fun distraction away from his dreary, monotonous life. Always feeling uncertain of his future—a future forced upon him, a future he wouldn’t want. Just thinking about his life’s circumstances gave him a nagging headache.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to meet Mo again.

Mo had wonderful, pleasant dreams that night. In the dream, Mo had legs, walking around on land as if he were a human. It wasn’t his first dream of himself as a human, but it was strange—even though he’d never had legs in reality, somehow in his dreams, he knew exactly how to use them. He wore the same kinds of clothes as Kent, the beautiful human who was walking side-by-side with him as if they were already the closest of friends.

Though, in reality, they had only just met. Mo knew next to nothing about Kent other than he possessed a beautiful voice and a gorgeous appearance. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. In the little amount they’d talked, Kent was incredibly kind to him. As a mer, one could oft tell the demeanor of a human, if they were friend or foe, from their first conversation alone. It was an instinctual survival skill, and Mo had gauged Kent as someone he could trust. Someone he wanted to get to know better.

He desperately wanted to see him again, but if he was busy, Mo would have to wait.

During that time, Mo had some things he could do. There were pieces of jewelry and trinkets he could sell, ones he salvaged from the pirate ship he’d sunk the other day. And while the small fish he caught himself were satisfactory food, nothing beat the exquisite giant squid meat caught by hunters. It was a good day to go into the city.

After stuffing his carry-bag with items and flinging it over his shoulder, Mo left his grotto and swam to the closest merfolk city. Portica was a marvelous sight, even for out-of-towners, as it was the capital city of the region, housing the great castle of the Portic royal family.

Mo knew this city well, as he’d lived near here all his life. Sea crystals were lit up on top of decorated metal posts standing tall, twinkling like stars, sticking out of the ground as they lined both sides of each path he took into the city. Smaller fish swam alongside other merfolk as they passed through alleyways between buildings, crafted by expert architects on a gradual slope that led to the city center. That’s where Mo wanted to be. The center was a massive hustling bazaar, full of merchants, food sellers and services. Further ahead, the magnificently tall castle and other royal buildings lay high up on the hill, on the flat, wide plateau.

Mo made his way to the bazaar, clutching the strap of his carry-bag; his long necklaces brushing against his knuckles. He found one merchant table in the sea of hurrying fish-creatures that he recognized: one selling human goods. He swam over to it, heart thumping in anticipation, hoping they would appreciate his wares.

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