Chương 10: It’s Only a Crime if You Get Caught

The second drink ran hot in my blood by the time the sailors arrived at the dock. Color had come back to Wynnie's cheeks, and I couldn't help but notice that she was standing much closer to me than when we started. Her hand brushed against mine often. A thrill of excitement tingled through me every time. Definitely a normal response for just friends.

"Fresh fruit! Fresh fruits here! Apples, melons, pineapples, peaches! Come get your fresh fruits!"

"Hats! Big floppy ones for the sun! Fuzzy warm ones for the stormy days! Come, try on your next hat right here!" All around us, stall vendors began shouting at the top of their lungs, trying to gain the attention of the sailors who surged past. They appeared weary from their time on the sea, but excited to be on land. A few of them looked in the direction of the vendors. They were probably used to the same treatment whenever they got into a new port.

Who knew how many hats and fruits people had tried to sell them over the years? I wondered if any ports had alcohol available right on the docks. It was time to see if we had the makings of something special.

"Alcohol! Rum rations! Get your tipple here!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

"Come get schnockered, you salty dogs!" Wynnie joined in with gusto, outdoing me completely. In another world, she would've been a terrific theater kid. All that chest must have helped her project her voice. Several sailors made a beeline toward us, reaching instinctively into their money pouches. Apparently, what we had for sale was indeed more exciting than the goods of our neighbors.

"I'll take some rum," one said.

"I'll take anything," said another.

"I got a copper for a flagon if you've got one," added a third. They looked weathered and tough. Not the type of people I wanted to mess with. And yet, something told me I was about to mess with them.

"Three copper for one cup," I stated. I nearly had to plug my ears at the response. Part of me had started to think that all the people of this world all shared the same dainty, family-friendly vocabulary as Wynnie. That was clearly not the case. The sailors cursed like sailors. They dug deep into their imaginations for expletives that would make a seasoned escort blush. I took a step back instinctively. The thirsty crowd pressed in.

Judging by the vitriol and outrage, I was pretty sure that one of them was about to swing on me. Somehow, their volume continued to increase, drawing the attention of several other sailors, who also came over to investigate. They started yelling, too, without even knowing what they were yelling about.

"Three copper? Are you mad?"

"Do you take us for fools?"

"We ought to teach these charlatans a lesson!" I was getting worried we might have to hightail it out of there. Or worse, that we might have to call on Lady Talia for protection. Wynnie stepped up, however. She raised both of her hands to quiet the crowd. In a plaintive tone, she addressed them.

"Wait! You don't understand. We mixed it with juice!" The crowd stood in stunned silence. A few expressions had gone aghast. Wynnie's explanation hadn't quite done the trick. She looked back at me hopelessly. I shrugged.

"And we watered it down with ice!" she added, like that was going to help. More stunned silence, followed by an even louder outburst of anger. I needed some quick thinking. The crowd was getting downright frothy. If I were playing my tabletop RPG with friends, my character might conjure up a fireball. It solved a lot of problems for him, and an angry mob definitely qualified as a problem. Yet this was hardly the time for fireball diplomacy—or ice storm negotiations, since Wynnie was our caster.

The throng of displeasure in front of us could become our allies if we played this right. Yet lacking any type of charm spell, I'd have to rely on a skill, like intimidation or persuasion. As a bartender, not an actual game hero, I had to assume I had no proficiency in intimidation. What would our bard do? What could he say? How would he defuse this situation and not just get us out alive, but sell all of our punch as well? Likely, there were clever solutions. Yet the best solution had already been invented.

I just needed to borrow it from our world. Time to flex that isekai advantage. Clearing my throat, I stepped up next to Wynnie and struck the most authoritative pose I could.

"Happy hour starts now!" Another brief silence.

"What in the mermaid's tits is a happy hour?" someone in the crowd shouted. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"For the next hour, all drinks are buy one, get one free." I could see the group struggling with the mental math of that one. A hush fell over the crowd as they all did their best to divide three copper in half. It gave me the opportunity to lean over to Wynnie and whisper, "Lots of ice. Small cups, small ladles, and did I say lots of ice? Because I mean lots of it." She nodded.

"I'll buy one," said a stout dwarf. His beard was braided intricately down to his waist, and his red tunic and brown pants flapped impressively in the wind. The long scar down his face and thickly callused hands told me he wasn't to be trifled with. He approached our overturned cart. We'd balanced our punch bowl on top of it and arrayed as many glasses as we could behind. There wasn't as much room to operate as a traditional bar top, but it worked for our purposes.

More importantly, the cart was bar height to the dwarf. He leaned his elbow on the makeshift wooden structure and slapped three copper down with his other hand. I filled two cups with ice and ladled one small ladle of punch into each. Then, with a wink, I added just a bit more to each cup, filling them nearly to the brim.

"A little extra, just for you." He grabbed a cup in each hand and eyed them suspiciously.

"What's with the ice?"

"It's better cold."

"I never had no iced alcohol with juice before."

"Happy to give you a new experience."

"If I don't like it, I'm going to get my money back." He looked at me gravely, then nodded back at the twin scimitars strapped to his back, then back at me.

"I won't be asking politely." I gulped. Then he gulped. Nearly a third of the punch disappeared in a single sip. His face remained impassive, revealing nothing. He took a second sip. Curious voices rose from the hushed group gathered behind him.

"How is it, Grimsby?"

"Yeah, what's the verdict?" Wynnie looked at him with hope written all over her face.

"Well?" Even the vendors on either side of us had quieted, waiting to see what he thought. A sly grin crossed his lips, revealing a set of blackened, terrifying teeth. He turned around to the crowd that had formed behind him. The arm holding his half-finished punch rose in the air like a toast.

"Fellas, this swill's sweeter than a siren's song! It's gods-damned scrumptious, is what it is!" A raucous roar of approval erupted from the crowd. A chaotic line formed almost immediately, with people trying to cut aggressively like a Ram driver in a zipper merge. As they shouted orders over each other, it grew obvious that more than half of the drinkers needed help with their math. Two drinks for three copper was too perplexing, especially after they'd had a couple.

Fortunately, my new, just-friends partner stepped up to help the confused bunch. She handled the exchange while I ladled furiously. She handled the throng like a professional, A surge of adrenaline-fueled belonging raced through my veins. It was nice to fall back on something that made sense, finally. Bartending may be little more than filling cups with liquid, but it was a tangible tether to my old life. Within twenty minutes, Wynnie and I had sold out of our punch completely.

Even as we began visibly closing up shop, sailors kept returning, asking for more. Many wanted to know where they could get our concoction in town. We pointed them to the Breakwater Inn, but I added a caveat each time. We'd blown through our stores completely at the docks. I had to let them down softly, telling them we'd have more the following day. But I didn't want to simply say we'd sold out. We had other business to attend to as well. Making a few coin was just the first step of my plan.

There was no reason to put the rest of the inn's improvements on hold when we probably had more than enough to start phase two now.

"We're closed for repairs today," I explained, making Wynnie glance at me with skepticism. I'd explain later.

"If you're around tomorrow, come see us in the bar for a drink." We collected all the cups that we could. A few had gone missing, and a couple more had broken. I could only hope our profits could cover the breakage. We began packing everything that was left into the cart once the crowd dispersed.

"That was quite the show!" I turned to see a middle-aged woman wearing an outlandish cap with lace around the brim. A feather stuck out at a jaunty angle. The rest of her outfit was only slightly less gaudy. Heavy purple and teal silks draped loosely over her body, flapping audibly in the gentle breeze.

"Thanks. Sorry about the commotion. I guess it's been a while since these men had a good drink."

"Operating without a permit was a bold move."

"Uh, yeah. One born of necessity, unfortunately." She nodded in understanding.

"Don't worry. I won't report you to the constable. I'm pretty sure I owe a couple sales to the liquid lubrication you were selling." We'd been so busy that I hadn't even noticed our effect on the vendors near us. Now that I looked, I could see that she was several hats lighter than when we started. Who knew haberdasheries were in such high demand?

"Glad to see that bending the rules can be appreciated here," I said, remembering Lady Talia's less-accepting interpretation of what was acceptable.

"One misstep is fine. But do it again?" She adjusted a wide-brimmed sunhat on her display.

"All the vendors here pay for the privilege. Make a habit of this, and you'll find yourself on the wrong side of our kindness as well as the law."

"We didn't mean any disrespect," I said.

"Of course not. But you two just made more in less than an hour than most of us make in a day. If you want to do this again, you'll have to pay." She looked at me meaningfully, making sure I understood her.

"One way or another." So, this was an old-fashioned shakedown. Who needed bandits when you had the local color?

"Figured we'd find some pirates on the docks," I muttered to Wynnie. Her eyes grew wide in shock, and her mouth opened slightly, surprised. She shook her head in quick, staccato movements. Something I'd said struck her deep.

"Don't mention pirates here. Especially not at the docks. They're a real danger, you know!"

"The Black Ship Raiders?"

"Shh!" She put a finger to her lips as she hissed.

"Don't even say their name!" Noted. Fortunately, our quiet aside went relatively unnoticed by the hat vendor, who stood by with a bland expression. I continued from earlier, referencing the suggestion that we'd have to pay somehow.

"So, maybe we should get a permit, you're saying?"

"Sure. That. Or you could make sure the rest of us get a cup or two." She winked.

"The gods know how a tipple can help someone forget they saw anything." Wynnie glanced at me uneasily.

"A permit might be cheaper."

"Just think about it, dear," the woman told her.

"If it's as good as those sailors said, well, a good word from us at the docks could send a lot of business your way."

"We'll think about it." Actually, my mind was already working at top speed. There was no better marketing than word of mouth.

"At the very least, we'd be happy to offer you a drink back at the Breakwater Inn." The woman smiled, winked, and tipped her hat. She turned back to her displays, moving a few hats around to fill in the empty spots where people had purchased some of her wares. Before we could finish packing to leave, the fruit vendor got our attention with a low whistle. I turned to face him, already weary. Did he want to shake us down, too?

"You two better head out quick."

"Yeah, yeah. We got it. Don't worry. We're leaving," I sighed. The man scratched his jaw, smacking his gums. He had one missing tooth and several days' worth of stubble. He chuckled and shook his head.

"You got the wrong idea. Lady Talia usually checks the docks in the early afternoon. Judging by the shadows, that's just about now." He let out a wheezing chuckle that turned into a cough.

"She likes to make sure new arrivals know there's a law in town."

"Oh, sugarplums," Wynnie yelped.

"Sorry for cursing." We packed up double speed. The promise of regulatory scrutiny was a wind in our sails. I relished the opportunity to avoid another tense run-in with the constable. As we began our trek back up the hill, Wynnie turned to me.

"Why did you say we were closed for repairs?"

"Because we will be. Let's go get some paint and more alcohol. It's time to give your inn a glow-up."