Sea Story (8)
"I told you, never possess anyone's body. Not tonight either."
"No... I've never even thought of it... Let me go."
That's when Della, whom I'd thought had gone to the club, came rushing back, calling for me desperately.
"Master! Master! Come quick! Something terrible's happened!"
Celereja peeled herself off me. She glanced at me and Della once each, then turned toward the beach. A chill radiated from her eyes, but I had no time to deal with it. Della was already splashing through the water toward me, unable to wait.
"Master! Hurry! Marim...!"
Della grabbed my arm and yanked me along. Marim? What mess had that half-elf gotten into this time?
As I reached the shore, Pelle—who'd been sleeping—was up, and Francois had even stepped out from under the parasol. I told the ones trying to follow me to stay put for now. Whatever complicated mess this was, neither Francois nor Pelle would be any help there. Della was already sprinting toward the club.
Following her, I spotted a crowd gathered at the base of the stairs leading up to the club's plaza. Marim was probably in the middle of that.
"Excuse me. Coming through."
I shoved my way past the people with brute force. Soon, a clearing ringed by onlookers appeared. There stood Marim, fuming with rage, and Idi looking troubled as she hid one hand behind her back.
"Fuck! What the hell have you ever done for these ears of mine?!"
Marim was spewing curses at the young men in front of her. The guys—bare-chested in just shorts—sneered mockingly and glanced at each other.
"What's going on here?"
At my voice, Idi flinched and turned. Relief bloomed on her face when she saw me.
"Bertrand... you're here... Stop her quick..."
As I moved to Idi's side, I snuck a peek at the hand she'd hidden behind her back. Jagged shards of curse magic, black and sharp as obsidian, protruded from it. What the hell? Why was she prepping curse fragments for this?
"Speak up, you fucking bastards!"
I placed a hand on Marim's shoulder as she clenched her fists and unleashed a torrent of profanity. She tried to shake me off but froze in surprise at my iron grip, turning to look.
"What's all the commotion about?"
"Master?"
At the word "Master," one of the young men facing her off smirked arrogantly and spoke up.
"Knew it. No wonder some filthy mongrel mutt was wandering around a place like this—you're her owner, huh?"
"Yeah. Though she's not a slave."
"Unique tastes. Like 'em with handles to grab? Or maybe the small size makes for good carrying-and-thrusting."
The men burst into crude laughter at the lowbrow joke, slapping each other's shoulders. I pressed down gently on Marim as she lunged forward, then asked,
"Give me a reason to beat these pricks into the sand."
"These assholes were hitting on big sis Della and big sis Idi. I stepped in when they tried dragging them off to 'play,' and suddenly they're telling me the hotel bathrooms are upstairs—piss off."
So, half-elves should stick to scrubbing toilets, huh. Racial slur flipped her switch. And they'd messed with our girls too.
"Young guys and girls hanging out by the beach—could happen, right, Master? Speaking of, what's your deal with that cow over there? She a slave too?"
"Thanks. You just handed me my excuse."
"The fuck you on about?"
I shoved Marim behind me and stepped forward. Sensing something in my demeanor, the men wiped the smirks from their faces. One puffed up his chest and boasted,
"Looks like you're some minor noble playboy collecting sex slaves. Wanna throw down? You sure you can handle it? Think you can tangle with a duke's house and walk away clean?"
Duke's house... There weren't many dukes in the kingdom, and none whose kids would be left unchecked to harass women at the beach. These punks were full of shit, obviously.
"No problem. Which duke's house? Edran? Dolerion? Sabel? Bibelif?"
The men went dead silent as I rattled off grand dukes and dukes. Just as I figured—they weren't from any duke's house. Probably just some count's spoiled brats at best.
"I don't give a damn if you're noble sons or the asses-wipers for their daughters. Point is, I've got every reason to bury you in the sand."
"What reason's that, dipshit?"
"You touched my precious staff."
"Bullshit!"
One of the onlookers encircling us shouted,
"Quit the trash talk and fight like men!"
Stoked by that, one punk charged boldly. Before he could swing, I smashed my fist down from above with full force. His skull took the hit dead-on; his legs flew up as he face-planted into the sand at meteoric speed. The crowd erupted in cheers. His head sank halfway into the beach—he didn't even twitch. But he wasn't dead. I'd dialed back just enough for a knockout. Murder would've been overkill here, pissed as I was.
"Next. Or hell, all come at once."
The men hesitated, eyeing their buddy downed in one hit. I didn't wait—strode right at them. I grabbed the shoulder of one turning to flee.
"Gaaahhh! Let go!"
Yanking his shoulder joint clean out, I left his arm dangling limp as he dropped to his knees. Perfect height—I kneed his face. His nose shattered, blood gushing everywhere. The rest panicked, shoving through the crowd to escape, but the onlookers heartlessly shoved them back my way.
"If these 'nobles' were rude to the ladies, they gotta pay!"
I lightly punched the ribs of one backing away. Crunch—ribs snapped under my knuckles. He hit the ground retching and rolling.
With three down in seconds, the last surrendered, dropping to his knees in defeat. He groveled, rubbing his hands together pleadingly.
"Sp... spare me, milord...!"
"What house are you from? Better spill before I count to five. One, two, three, four, fi—"
"Monder! Ge bort! Taine! Stelli!"
He spat the names desperately. Not even a count's house—these were baronet trash? Total nobodies...
I squatted in front of him, forcing eye contact. He averted his gaze; I grabbed his jaw and yanked it up.
"Living like kings in your fief's got you clueless about the real world."
"Ughh..."
"Outside your bubble, it's monster central. Not a place for punks like you to yap. Got it?"
"Y-yes...!"
"Here to have fun? Keep it quiet among yourselves. Don't harm others."
"Y-yes... sir...!"
I grinned and backhanded his cheek. His head snapped around; teeth rained from his mouth. Standing, I checked the others. Head-in-sand guy was still out. Dislocated shoulder and smashed nose was half-conscious. The least messed up clutched his broken ribs.
I grabbed his hair and dragged him over. He begged,
"Please... mercy...!"
"I never forgive those who touch what's under my protection."
I hauled him by the hair to our girls. Della hid behind Idi; even raging Marim now clung to Idi's arm, face pale with fear. I forced the punk to kneel before Marim.
"Apologize to the half-elf."
But he hesitated, noble pride warring with his beating. Apologize to a despised half-elf? Not without incentive. I "gently" prodded his broken ribs with my fist. He screamed, slamming his forehead into the sand.
I yanked his head up to face Marim.
"Apologize to the half-elf."
"S-sorry..."
"Use respect."
"Milord... I can't...! F-forgive me, half-elf lady! I've committed a mortal sin!"
I raised my fist; bloodshot eyes streaming spit, he bowed frantically to Marim. She looked stunned, speechless.
"Monder. Gebort. Taine. Stelli. I'll remember."
His face drained white; he trembled like a leaf. I tapped his occiput—he crumpled forward, out cold.
"Eek!"
Marim yelped, diving into Idi's arms as he flopped at her feet. Idi hugged her and looked at me.
"You okay, Bertrand...? No injuries...? Your knuckles... hurt...?"
"Nah. Fine. Let's head back. Total small fry..."
Suddenly, a blaring horn blasted from the back of the crowd.
