Page 97 of The Noble's Merman

They finally made it to an area of some residential buildings, and Kent spoke to a servant he found outside of one. The lad gave them directions to the nearest public house, and Kent thanked him, though the lad gave them both a quizzical look. Kent knew they would attract stares dressed as they were, but hopefully, they wouldn’t be like this for much longer.

Only a couple blocks away was the aforementioned public house, and Kent opened the front doors, leading himself and Mo into the lobby. A matron was seated by a desk, reading a book, when their entrance startled her and she looked up.

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “To whom may you be? What is going on here?”

“Please, ma’am, we ask for your hospitality,” said Kent, holding one hand flat on Mo’s back. He told her their story, of how they were shipwrecked and of how he was nobility, and they needed a place to rest and recuperate before they found their way back home. The matron was shocked and amazed at such a large tale, but believed them, and pitied them. Such a story moved her with how they were able to swim such a long distance without drowning, persevering, and fighting tooth and nail to ensure they both lived.

“You poor creatures!” said the matron, ushering them to have a seat on a sofa near the fireplace. “The son of an earl too, the Earl of Fareham! Oh, he shall be so happy to know you are alive. Would you like me to send out a message to him, my lord?”

“Yes please, if you could. I’d like to write to him.”

Sitting to his left, Mo suddenly winced in pain. He let out a moan, and the matron gasped, resting her hand on Mo’s shoulder.

“Oh, pray! Are you hurt?” she asked.

“A bit…”

“He strained his muscles tremendously from helping me swim to shore,” Kent offered. “I’m… not that great of a swimmer, so he did most of the work getting us here.”

“I see, my lord.” The matron—who’d introduced herself as Mrs Robinson—took another curious look at the once-merman. “Mr Richards, how does your necklace glow like that? I’ve never seen such a thing!”

Mo looked up, and probably, just like Kent, must’ve forgotten he was even wearing it with how he widened his eyes. “It… it was a gift from an old friend,” said Mo, making up an excuse. “I haven’t seen them in years; I don’t know whatever happened to them, but they told me that such crystals came from the bottom of the sea.”

“And the pirates who captured you didn’t think to loot such a beautiful jewel from you?”

Mo pouted his lips. “I… was led to believe these are fairly common under the sea. The pirates must’ve known so too, hence them not thinking it valuable enough to steal from me.”

Kent thought it was rather clever how Mo weaved in half-truths about sea crystals while also omitting the fact of the existence of merfolk. No wonder he could make me believe he wasn’t a siren—he’s rather good at lying. Kent smirked inwardly at the thought, but didn’t hold such a notion against Mo. He’ll need to use that skill to make everyone believe he’s a normal human.

“Ah, I see, I see,” said the matron warmly. “I wonder if those sort of crystals belonged to the merfolk, then? I’ve heard some tales, but was never sure if they were true.”

“Perhaps they are true, who knows?” said Mo with a smile.

“I’ll make sure to see that you two have comfortable beds and a warm meal. You need it, oh, you lads need it.”

“And some new clothes perhaps, please?” asked Kent. “I promise to send money your way once I’m able to, to accommodate for everything you’ve done for us.”

“Lord Fareham, you don’t have to. I’ll be happy to do whatever in my power to make you feel at home. Though… I’m afraid the pickings for quality fabric are slim here, unless you wish to travel into the city. Which, I suppose you can’t even do that unless you were wearing something else…”

“Please, Mrs Robinson, don’t you worry about that. There’s nothing wrong with a servant’s clothes, if they are willing to part with something spare that would fit either of us.”

The matron nodded, lifting her hand off Mo and standing up straight. “All right, as long as you are comfortable with that, my lord.”

“More than comfortable to wear anything, as long as it’s clean.” He smiled, and then he looked over to Mo, smiling right back at him.

Kent then asked Mrs Robinson where exactly they were, and Kent was right, they were in Cornwall, in a little town called St Just. He asked if she’d seen their friends Allen and Seth, possibly a woman with them too, but unfortunately, the matron had not come across any group like he described. However, she assured him that if they made it to shore, his friends surely did as well; most likely, since they were separated whilst swimming, they might’ve simply washed up closer to a different town. Kent hoped for the same, still a bit tense, and Mo seemed to notice. He put his hand on Kent’s knee.

“Trust me. I know they’ll be fine. We’ll see them again.”

Mo’s reassurance sent a warm glow through his chest. “You’re right. Yes, yes, you’re right. We will.”

Mo was faced with a new obstacle when they were shown to their room: stairs. The only experience he had with them was from that last day on The Sterling Mer, hastily crawling up them with his arms and tail. But lifting his legs? It took more effort than simply walking, and Kent needed to hold onto him every step of the way. Thankfully, Mrs Robinson didn’t think it was strange, and just attributed his clumsiness to him being shaken and tired from their journey.

He had hoped the pain would’ve lessened further by now, but he wasn’t so lucky. While he could say it wasn’t as intense as when they first started walking, each step still stung his nerves and shot bolts of lightning up his legs. Perhaps his recovery would simply take some more time. He could adjust.

The room had two of the most luxurious beds he’d ever seen. Each was draped in blankets of soft-looking tan cloths, though instead of plopping down on one right away, Kent directed him to sit in a wooden chair first. He said they’d need to get a change of clothes and a wash before they lay down, and Mo understood that.

But first and foremost, a servant of the establishment brought them some food. It was served in a bowl, and appeared as almost a liquid. Mo was curious how he was supposed to eat such a thing—was he supposed to tip the bowl up to his lips like he had with the cup of rum?—and he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of others for not knowing how to eat something so common for a human. Thankfully, the servant left them alone and closed the door behind herself, and Kent showed him what to do, setting his own bowl down on a table between their chairs and grabbing the utensil from Mo’s.

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