Mongrel

"You're not serious," Buck said slowly.

"Of course I'm fucking serious," Mongrel replied. "Are you really saying you can't see Brimstone cooking up something like this in that scrambled brain of his?"

"Well…" Buck stood tapping his foot for a moment, thinking, then shrugged. "Even if what you're saying is true, it doesn't make a difference. In fact, it would probably be a good thing for Freetown. With soldiers going to and fro, there'll be plenty of fat convoys to plunder, and it won't be difficult to conceal our little raids as enemy action from one side or the other. So you see, there is no reason for this conflict to worry me at all."

"Unless Stormfront goes down, and the rest of the octant with it."

"Fair enough. Call it balance of probability, then."

The little shit was being particularly stubborn about this, and his returned grin was making Mongrel want to knock all his teeth in. But he restrained his emotions, forced himself to breathe slowly. It wasn't over—not by a long shot. A young buck might get by on swift legs and a handsome set of antlers, but a stray mongrel had to be clever if he wanted to live to an old age.

He had one pressure point on Buck that he had yet to exploit.

His massive fucking ego.

"Then you'd hide in the bushes and let Brimstone have his way with Sheerhome?" Mongrel asked. "And let him burn or flay or behead all the ones who have pledged for you—who believe that you'll come and save them?"

"Pledge for me?" Buck asked with a cocked eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, yes. Like the beautiful Lady Dawn, for instance. They say she spoke out in your favor, and Brimstone threw her in a dungeon for it to torment her ceaselessly until she recants. She's not been seen since as far as I know, whatever you take that to mean."

A complete lie, of course, but it flowed from Mongrel's tongue as natural as anything. He'd been a bullshit artist since Buck was still just a twinkle in his father's eye, and none better.

The Entertainer's brows spiked higher. "The lady-consort?" he asked, echoed by a chorus of murmurs throughout the hall. "That can't be right."

Mongrel shrugged and blew out his lips. "Shit, who knows? That's just what the rumors are saying. But if a million dead isn't enough to move you, I guess one more on the pile doesn't make a lick of difference."

"Lady-Consort Dawn…"

"Yes. That's what I just said, isn't it?"

"They say she has hair like spun gold, and a smile that can coax flowers into bloom."

"Uh, if you say so."

"They say she is well-loved on the hilltop, her reputation untarnished even by association with her husband."

"Sure."

"Is she still alive?"

Mongrel sighed dramatically and threw his hands up. "How should I know? It's been over a week since we left Sheerhome."

"Forgive me, everyone, but I need to speak with this man in private. We're just gonna go ahead and step into the next room for a sec."

It took Mongrel a toe-curling exertion of self-control to keep a wicked little smile off his face.

You've got 'im on the hook now, lad. All that's left is to reeeeell 'im in.

[After twelve minutes of reeling, Big Deal Buck decides that he will take that journey to Sheerhome after all…]

* * *

Upon his announcement that he would be leaving in the morning, the assembly decided at once that a farewell feast was in order, which began almost the very moment the idea was conceived.

Food and beverages were procured in overwhelming quantities from all over town. The fires were stoked high so the hall was alive with light all the way up to the ceiling, and large shadows danced upon the walls as eagerly as their owners. There was music and gaming and storytelling and performances and debauchery of every sort, including various semi-orgiastic sexual acts being carried out in full view of everyone else.

Mongrel went from being chopped liver to somewhat of a guest of honor, and the chimps and the troll were invited inside to join the festivities. More folk arrived from all around Freetown besides, until the town hall was practically bursting at the seams to contain all the bustling bodies. Mongrel could hardly turn around without accidentally elbowing one person or another, and the cacophony of voices was so loud you nearly had to shout for your neighbor to hear you.

Buck's demeanor had flipped on a dime. In raucously good spirits at the prospect of playing the hero in his very own fairy tale, set to rescue a fair princess from a fire-breathing monster and all, he now treated Mongrel as though they were the very best of friends, an arm perpetually slung over his shoulders as they went around to sample the various delights that Freetown could offer. He was evidently a happy drunk, because he got steadily more ecstatic as he got deeper in his cups until he was snorting and giggling like a child.

Mongrel put up with it all in the interest of keeping the peace. Though he would have liked to drink himself blind so he wouldn't have to look at Buck's disgustingly handsome mug anymore, he kept it light considering there was a full day's travel waiting in the morning. Leave it to a youngster not to worry about tiny details like that.

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Sometimes, Mongrel hated how sensible he was.

Gug made some waves, with folk gathered around him to marvel at the minor miracle of a troll speaking. No one was more enchanted by the creature than Buck himself, and as fellow storytellers the two of them hit it off famously—which suited Mongrel just as well, since it meant the Entertainer wasn't hanging off him for a while.

Buck and the troll even had themselves a bit of a competition. The game was called 'playing jester', where the objective was to take turns telling jokes, and the winner was the one who could make the other player laugh first. Thoroughly sloshed by that point, Buck could hardly go ten seconds without finding something or another to giggle at, let alone keep a straight face for an entire back-and-forth duel, meaning he lost every single round in record time. To his credit, Buck accepted defeat with grace, and clapped his hands and cheered while a group of women hoisted a victor's garland of colorful flowers around the troll's neck.

Mongrel imagined that Gug must not have received so much attention in his life—positive attention, anyway—and the guy soaked it up with unrivaled glee. The ladies soon had him 'dancing', which involved a lot of stomping around so the floor shook.

Even Mongrel had to admit the big green oaf had a certain innocent charm to him.

He'd found himself a relatively quiet spot at the end of a long table next to the wall and was having himself a mug of watered-down rum when he glanced over to see Buck parading along the bench, coming his way. Mongrel sighed, but did nothing to throw the young man off as he leapt down and threw an arm around his neck once again.

"How is he, then?" Buck asked, slurring his words heavily. "I mean, how is he really?"

"Who?" Mongrel grunted into his mug.

"One-Eye!"

"Oh. All right, I guess."

"All right? C'mon, you've gotta give me more than that." He thumbed at a tiny pale line on his cheek and laughed. "I've still got the scar he gave me, the bastard. Ruined my good looks and all. Can't look myself in the mirror anymore without seeing his face."

"That true?"

Buck snorted. "Nah. But I am curious."

Mongrel shrugged. "Dunno what to say, really. It was his idea, this whole thing. Killing Brimstone, getting you to do the killing, the works."

"Well, if a guy like that thinks I've got what it takes, I can't help but get my hopes up."

"Sure." Mongrel swept the rest of his rum, let the empty mug fall clattering to the floor. "Oh, and he got himself a woman."

"No shit?"

"Mmhmm. If you knew him, that'd come as a surprise."

Buck laughed.

"She came here with me, actually, as it happens. Sam Darling's her name."

"Really? Well, why'd nobody invite her? Let's get her now!"

"She got banged up pretty bad on the way here, so she's getting treated by that Youssef feller."

"Aw. That's a shame."

"You'll get to know her soon enough. She's quite the personality."

"I bet!" Buck hummed out a drunken tune to himself for a bit, head tipped back as he gazed up into the ceiling, then it rolled back around as he fixed his attention on Mongrel once more. "Speaking of old friends, what about Nyx? She went off with you guys, didn't she?"

"Don't fucking remind me," Mongrel muttered, suddenly craving another drink.

"She's a lot of woman, that one," Buck said, grinning, and tapped the side of his nose. "Wouldn't mind another shot at her someday. I reckon if I'm gonna die someday, I want it to be hip-deep in a foxy demoness. You get me, brother?"

"Life is an exercise in resisting temptation," Mongrel mused. Such as resisting the temptation to clock you in the jaw.

"I would personally argue the opposite, but to each their own. So? Is Nyx still with you, or did she go elsewhere?"

"Still with us. And making my life hell, most days."

Buck laughed. "Whyssat?"

"I can never figure her, that's why. She's always doing… demon shit, I dunno. Scheming. Like, just before I left to come here, she, I guess… pledged her loyalty to me? Like some kind of servant, or…" Mongrel shook his head. "I dunno. No idea what it means."

Buck grew uncharacteristically serious, smile fading as his face slackened. "Wait, for real?"

"Yeah, I guess. It was a binding contract and everything. I gave her a drop of my blood in exchange for her undying loyalty. I mean, that's got to be some kind of trick, right? Demons don't just… decide to serve a human like that. 'Specially not out of the goodness of their black little hearts, I know that much."

"Maaan…"

"I'm fucked, right?"

"Duuude…"

Mongrel sighed. "Yeah."

Buck shook him around hard, and spoke through clenched teeth: "I'm so fucking jealous of you, man! Christ alive, you've got the baddest little piece of ass I ever seen waiting on you back home!"

"Yeah, except I can't fuck her, obviously. People go crazy from demon pussy. So all I've got to look forward to, at best, is expert level blue-balling for the rest of my life."

Buck snorted. "Yeah, right! Turns weak people crazy, maybe. Guys like you and me? Real connoisseurs of the fairer sex? I reckon we got what it takes to dive into hellfire and come out unscathed."

"That's…"

"You gotta do it, Sir Mongrel! For me! For all men, everywhere!"

"Do what?"

"To conquer her, man! I've got my dragon to slay, and you, my friend, have yours. Only yours is a lot better looking."

"Slay… her pussy?"

"That's the ticket."

There was actually something kind of inspiring about that.

"You know," Mongrel said, "I'm beginning to think I pegged you wrong, Bucky Boy."

Buck flashed a brilliant ear-to-ear grin. "There ain't a wrong way to get pegged, bud, long as you got the lube for it."

"That's deep."

"I know."

They sat slumped against each other for some time while the revelry carried on around them. Mongrel was just beginning to drift off when Buck was suddenly shaking him awake again, laughing painfully loud in his ear, which quickly obliterated any notion of sleep.

"You know what?" he said. "Nyx is bound to put you through your paces. Maybe you could use some practice before the real thing!"

"Huh?" Mongrel grumbled.

Buck leaned in conspiratorially so they were practically cheek-to-cheek, and leaned low as he pointed with the hand draped over Mongrel's shoulders to a woman sitting at a table near the other end of the hall. "That one there. Her name is Linnéa. She has a real thing for older men."

"That so?"

"You bet. You go over there now, I bet you two would hit it off."

"Well…"

What was the harm in a friendly little chat?

Mongrel made to stand up, but Buck held onto him, pulled him back down. "Hold on. You go up to her, and you tell her this. It works every time." Then he whispered into Mongrel's ear: "[REDACTED]."

Mongrel's eyes went wide. "Seriously? [REDACTED]? That works?"

"Every time," Buck said, grinning.

[Mongrel goes on to have sex that night.]

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