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Brewing Bad Ch. 166-167
🕑 Added 2025-07-14 13:59:01 +0000 UTCCh. 166 - Getting her Attention
The following week, Lucas attended two more parties. That wasn’t because he wanted to, of course; it was because he needed to. His to-do list was getting remarkably short, and unless he wanted to fight Skylara on her home turf or get dozens of people killed in the crossfire, he needed to woo her just hard enough to agree to meet him alone.
The first one was a bust. Not only did she not attend, but it was held at the Torvin estate, which meant that he had to deal with the contrast of Count Torvin’s accusing looks and his unfailing politeness the entire evening. Part of Lucas wanted to explain the revenge he planned, to include him as an ally in the plot, but he resisted the urge.
There was little point to it. Not only was there little he could bring to the table that Lucas or Heisenburgle couldn’t, but the risk of him telling the Prince or someone who would tell the Prince was far too great. The man might not execute Lucas for that, but he would almost certainly chain him to the wall of a basement meth lab for the rest of his days.
I’d only be doing it to make myself feel better anyway, he told himself as he mulled the idea most of the evening.
Still, Lucas did something he rarely did, normally, and spent most of the night dancing. This was in large part because it was the best way to escape the man’s conflicted attentions, but that wasn’t the only part. The blessing he’d received from his brief interaction with the divine had changed him in a number of small ways he was still getting used to, and the best way to do that was to move.
Increasing a given attribute by three wasn’t exactly revolutionary, but increasing them all by three almost was. He was a little faster with his jokes than he’d ever been before and lighter on his feet, too. He would have needed a potion to get this level of grace a year ago, but after an evening whirling around the dance floor, he was almost used to it and looking forward to his next bout with Sir. Milen.
One thing he couldn’t get used to, though, was how differently people treated him. Now that his appearance had increased substantially, his interactions with the elite had completely changed. So much so, in fact, that he regretted bumping that number up by two for the achievement.
Things were easier when I was ugly, he thought as he switched partners again in the whirling round, back to a beautiful redhead who was definitely interested in getting to know him better.
In all of Lucas’ previous attempts at socialization, it had been easy to divide his interactions into two categories. Well, three, Danaria was so sweet that she belonged in a category all to herself. Everyone else, though, either looked at him like the garbage that he probably was or with a sycophantic intensity. The only difference between these two groups was whether they were his customers or not. Even Skylara fell into the latter camp to a large degree.
If someone wanted to get high, they were respectful or even obsequious. If they didn’t know what Blue was, then looked at Lucas like the ugly, low-caste bastard he was.
Now, all of that had changed. All it had taken was a few points of attractiveness, and suddenly, people were laughing at his jokes, and women who weren’t looking to get high were giving him appraising glances. Lucas didn’t like it. While being a little bit smarter and more graceful was nice, he’d much rather go back to being the invisible wretch he’d been as recently as the last party he attended.
Unfortunately, that was no longer possible. Too many things were set in motion, and he had no idea where they were going to lead. I don’t want to be a fucking god, he cursed silently on the way back from the evening.
Things weren’t much better at the second ball he attended, at least at first. Once his prey took an interest in him, though, things improved quite a bit.
Lucas started out the night talking with some of the Prince’s hangers’ on, just to avoid an aggressive duchess who seemed eager to talk a walk with him through the gardens. It was only when he saw the dragoness wearing the same red sequined gown that she almost always did that he finally took to the dance floor, and less than an hour later, she followed suit.
Their interactions were limited at first, as they brushed by each other on the floor every so often during partner changes, like ships in the night. When she looked at him, it was with anger in her eyes, but that was a good thing.
First and foremost, the fact that she was even looking at him while she knew he could see her said a lot, but anger? The opposite of love was indifference, and the opposite of lust was boredom, and anger was neither of those things. It had a certain obsessive quality all of its own, and when they danced together briefly at one point early in the evening, the way she gripped his hand painfully told him everything he needed to know.
What’s a dragon to do when she wants to tear me to pieces, but then no one will be left to make her drug of choice, Lucas thought with a cocky grin.
Lucas sipped from his glass, often between bouts of ballroom dancing, but drank little as he attempted to appear listless and sullen now that he had an audience. Skylara wasn’t nearly as thoughtful. She only approached him when she was approaching drunk, practically dragging him out onto the dance floor for a long slow waltz that he had to lead carefully lest she slam them into one of the other couples on the dance floor.
“There’sss sssomething different about you,” she said, slurring slightly, as they twirled slowly toward the center of the well-lit room.
“It must be my longing for you,” Lucas said, trying his best to sound sincere. He lied easily enough, but lying about something this ridiculous was hard for him. “When you said you didn’t talk to me, I was—”
“Flatterer,” she cut him off. She didn’t quite blush, but something like embarrassment crossed her features. “Longing and a look of forlorn mystery is always attractive on a man, but there’s something more, isn’t there…”
Lucas stiffened as he recalled her comments about divinity before. Did she only approach me because she could smell Thrazelwick on me, he wondered.
“Well, I’ve been working on a new cologne,” he answered, finally.
“It’s hideous,” she obviously lied as she leaned close enough to press her bosom against him again and sniffed once more. “It reminds me of something… I think you’ve been ssspending too much time with that runt. Whatsss his name? Heisssen turtle?”
“Heisenturtle!” That made Lucas genuinely laugh for the first time all evening. Even though he quickly vowed to himself never to use that joke on the gnome, the image of his white-whiskered face popping out of his strange-looking plate mail appeared in his mind, and he just couldn’t shake it.
“Well, he does help me cook,” Lucas agreed. “Gnomes lack many things, but alchemy skills aren’t one of them.”
She laughed at that, “If he’s so ssskilled, then why can’t he make my Lwynthenll as well as you can? That’sss what I want to know. I’ve tried both, and hisss just doesn’t compare.”
“Well, surely you remember how good I am with my hands…” Lucas said even though he knew perfectly well, she remembered very little about the night they’d spent together.
That was enough to finally make her smile and look affronted, but it also engaged her in the conversation more fully. After a few minutes of almost polite conversation, where he made her laugh more than once, she said, “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to poison me after what I did.”
“Skylara, the stuff I make for you is poison to anyone else,” Lucas said, tamping down his anger at the memory of the burning building. “How am I supposed to make something more toxic than that? I have to wear special gloves in my laboratory because a single drop might kill me.”
“But your beautiful mansion,” she said, trying to return to the topic at hand.
“The Prince pays me well enough that I’ll have a new one built just as soon as I can decide on if I want an ocean view or a city view when I wake up in the morning,” he assured her.
“And the Girl?” the dragoness asked. Lucas saw something malicious in her eyes there, and it took an act of will not to wrap his hands around her throat.
“The Parin girl?” Lucas asked, trying to appear like he’d practically forgotten her. “Do you know why that leach told you about her before you threw him from the balcony? Because I was working with his sister to rob him blind. First, we were going to take away the Viscount’s wealth together, then I was going to steal hers alone.”
“You were only after her for the money?” she asked, seemingly surprised by that revelation. “Should I be worried I’m next?”
“Skylara, darling,” Lucas said, mastering the urge to scowl at the word as he pulled her closer. “I could spend my whole life stealing from you, and I’d barely scratch the surface. Why would I want such monstrous wealth when I could have the monster herself?”
That startled her, but she took his strange words as the compliment they were intended to be. After that, she even started playing hard to get, which he took as another good sign.
By the end of all those lies, though, he was seething internally. If he had Heiusenburgle’s lance, he would have run her through on the spot. Still, he kept that anger deep in the pit of his stomach and away from his face or anywhere else the drunken dragon might have spotted it.
“When are you going to apologize for the way you’ve treated me?” she asked finally, laying her head on his shoulder after a long bout of silence.
“Haven’t I done that already? More than once?” he asked. “I’ve sent you letters. I’ve—”
“Again,” she said with a predatory smile. “Tell me again. Make me believe it, Mister Blue. Make me believe there might ever be a place for you in my bed before you die of old age.”
Lucas spent the rest of the evening apologizing and flirting with the woman. Once she made it clear that she didn’t want to sleep with him, he even tried to invite himself back to her place several times. All of those efforts were unsuccessful, thankfully, but they did a good job of making her feel wanted, which was the important part of the thing.
The evening went on so long that when he watched her carriage leave, he actually decided to crash at the castle, but only because interacting with Lord Torvin so recently reminded him that it wasn’t always safe for him to be alone in the dark woods at night.
Ch. 167 - Putting on a Show
The following day, before he left Lordanin, he had his driver take him over to Skinners Lane. He told them it was because he needed a new pair of boots, but really, it was because he wanted to visit the small courtyard where the Knights of Brass held court without being watched or followed.
So, he had his carriage parked nearby and perused several shops. Then, when he found one that was shady looking enough for his tastes, he warned his guards that he’d be a while and then paid the proprietor a handful of silver kings to act busy and keep them away while Lucas used the man’s back door to walk over to the street of hammers.
While there was always the possibility that he could be assassinated or robbed, even by the men he was off to visit, he found that unlikely. The Knights of Brass were interested in money first and battle second, which made them exactly the simple sort of people he preferred to work with.
When he walked into the courtyard, no one seemed to recognize him, but he walked with enough confidence toward where the captains were sitting that no one tried to stop him until he’d almost reached his destination.
Then, a tough walked up to him and put his hand on Lucas’ chest to stop him. Lucas ignored that and the man and shouted past him. “Sir Tristin, are we ever going to have that rematch or what, man. ”
That boast stopped half a dozen conversations on the spot, and for a moment, the iron-haired knight flashed an annoyed look, which was, in turn, banished from his face by a look of recognition. “Well, look who it is,” he said, standing and striding toward Lucas as the other man backed off. “If it isn’t my favorite blueblood, in the flesh. Come to see me about a rematch, no less.”
Lucas shook the man’s hand, noting that he still wasn’t nearly as strong as the knight, which did not surprise him. “Well, I’m here about something else, but I figured there was no way you’d let me get out of here without a fight, so I figured we’d start there.”
That was a lie, but only a small one. While Lucas did have another reason to come here that he thought Kar’gandin would be unwilling and Heisenburgle would be unable to fill, he also wanted to fight this man. Lucas didn’t expect to beat him, of course, not without potions, but that last time he’d stood in this courtyard, he’d had absolutely no chance of winning, and since his big date with destiny was coming up ever faster, he wanted to see how much or little that had changed.
Being faster and stronger only helps, he reminded himself as he looked into the other man’s eyes. They don’t mean shit without the skill to use them.
Lucas spent a few minutes putting on some practice armor, along with gauntlets and a helm. He had a couple of decent healing potions on him, but that didn’t mean he was eager to use them. Getting stabbed still hurt like a sonofabitch.
When he was ready, he strutted back out into the middle of the field with a bulled steel practice sword in front of the eyes of thirty men. There was some betting going on, and though he didn’t know the odds they were giving him, he doubted they were good.
“This time, I won’t go as easy on you, Mister Blue,” Sir Tristin cautioned him. “You’ve had plenty of time to get better, and I aim to see it.”
“Of course,” Lucas agreed. “No potions, either. Just you and me.”
The knight flashed him a predatory grin and settled into a stance, flexing his knees slightly as he growled, “Show me!”
Lucas leaped forward, even before the words were out of his mouth, aiming for the man’s face, even though steel sprang up to bar the way. “I want you to know I’m going to count any hit as a win!” he cried out.
“Count what you want!” the other man roared, pushing him back. “You’ll end this fight on your back regardless. I just want to see how you fight until then!”
After that, talking became less important as the blows started to bleed together. At first, Sir Tristin fought fairly defensively, letting Lucas show his stuff. He didn’t have a shield, but then, he didn’t need one. His weapon moved like an extension of his own body. While initially, it teleported wherever Lucas happened to strike, in time, it started to lash out more and more frequently.
Soon, it was like the knight was really fighting him, and for half a minute there, Lucas felt like he was holding his own. However, the knight kept getting better and faster, and in time, Lucas could no longer keep up with him.
For several minutes, the two of them exchanged blows. Earlier, the knight had been toying with him, but now he seemed too ready to put Lucas in his place and, without too much difficulty, put Lucas wholly on the defensive for more than a minute.
Eventually, he managed to get the pace of the new fighting, but by the time he regained control of the fight itself, he was drenched in sweat. “Good,” the knight roared with a laugh as they locked blades. “Now come at me. Strike me down!”
Lucas sprang forward, delivering the first three blows of a five-hit combo of a flurry that had been drilled into him. He knew that move like the back of his hand, as well as the way one was supposed to defend against it. Sir Tristian knew it, too, though, which was what Lucas was counting on. That was why, during the fourth beat, he zigged when he should have zagged and lashed out in an unexpected location.
For a moment, it worked, too. For the space of a single parry, Sir. Tristin’s blade had moved to where Lucas’ blade should be next, not where it had actually gone, and he slid past the knight’s defenses at the cost of leaving himself wide open.
The sound of his sword tip scraping against the other man’s chainmail was as close as Lucas got to winning. Without armor, it would have been a painful blow but not a fatal one. It might have even cracked a rib, but the hammer blow that landed between Lucas’s eyes damn near cracked the helmet and put him on his ass. That one would have definitely killed him without armor. It might have even with armor if his opponent had hit him a little harder.
“Well fought, but hardly a victory,” the other man said, clasping Lucas’ gauntlet and pulling him to his feet. “I see that you have not been wasting sir Milen’s time. I’d even hire you myself if you want to start at the bottom as a squire to someone more competent. What do you say? A copper commoner a day and a silver king a job. Good money.”
With Lucas’ ears still ringing, he wasn’t sure if Sir Tristin was joking or not until he started laughing.
“Thanks,” Lucas mumbled, absorbing the compliment as he tried not to make his dizziness too obvious. He decided against telling the man that, as far as he was concerned, he’d won. That wasn’t how it would work with the dragon, either.
“Now, what’s this other business you want to discuss,” the man prompted after Lucas continued to stand there in silence.
“Well,” Lucas said softly, not moving from where they stood in the center of the courtyard. Distance was their only form of privacy, and he would take it. “I’ve got a job coming up, and I need a certain… well, a special. Sort of armor, just in case shit goes south on me.”
“Armor, eh?” Sir Tristin smiled. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I know every smith worth his steel on the street. We can get you—”
“Not literal armor,” Lucas corrected him. “The metaphorical sort. My problem is, uhm, a mage known to enjoy fire spells, and so I need a magic sort of solution to that.”
“Mages, huh?” the knight chewed on the words. “That will be tougher. The Mage’s guild has that sort of trade locked down pretty hard. I’m not sure I can help there.”
“Come on, man,” Lucas retorted. “You know everyone who knows anyone. I’m sure you know a guy or two you could ask for a ring of fire protection or whatever. I’m even offering a commission on this.”
“A commission, you say,” the man raised an eyebrow. “How much are we talking here?”
“Ten percent,” Lucas answered, and when he saw the look of calculated disappointment on the knight’s face, he continued. “Don’t give me that. Ten percent is a lot of money! This thing is going to cost me 200 dragons, easy.”
“And you have that much ready coin?” the man asked, “I heard you’ve been quite inconvenienced over the last few months.”
“We’re still getting you supply, aren’t we?” Lucas countered. “We might have had some setbacks, but I’m away from the city so much opening a new larger distillery for our shit.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Sir Tristin agreed. “And if I’m able to locate such an item, how do I go about reaching you for approval? Does it have to be a ring?”
“I don’t care what it is, so long as it works,” Lucas said, just send Sir. Milen to me for another lesson, and I’ll let him know if it's in my price range.
The two shook on it and then, after a few minutes, parted ways. Sir Tristin all but insisted he stay for a few beers, but Lucas had been gone long enough. So, after that conversation, Lucas had largely recovered his breath. So, even though he wished he’d had the chance to shower, he toweled off as best he could, straightened his rumbled clothes, and then walked back toward Skinner’s Lane.
“I had to bar the door,” the cobbler said, “They tried to insist that they needed to come in and—”
Lucas ignored the man, walking past him and opening the door where someone was pounding. It was the captain of his escort. Lucas smiled as if everything was normal and said, “Can I help you?”
“Uhm… Mister Blue, Sir, we were, uhm…” the man stammered. “I was worried something had happened to you.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m just fine,” Lucas countered, “Nothing’s amiss now if we could—”
“But you were gone for hours,” the soldier complained. “And you don’t even have new boots!”
“Yeah,” Lucas agreed. “The measurements were grueling, but he’ll send them along when he’d finished. Now let’s go home.”
The guard tried several more times to get answers out of him, but Lucas stonewalled him. “Tell Heisenburgle or the Prince or whoever you’re trying to get the answer for to ask me directly. I might actually tell them. Or, on second thought, don’t. Letting them know you lost track of me for hours probably wouldn’t be a good look for you, would it?”
That statement ended the conversation, and Lucas returned to Blackgate in silence, but he really didn’t give a shit. Reminding the guy that sometimes saying nothing was the best move worked for him, but then, every one of the people that accompanied his carriage two and from the city probably reported to a different master. He had no prayer of trying to silence them all, so he didn’t bother trying.
Instead, he ignored the man and focused on the countryside. That was doubly true when he reached the woods. He’d been attacked there before, and he had no wish to be blown up again.
That continued when he got back to the keep. He gave Hesienburgle the good news once they were alone, but the gnome brushed it off. “Bah, she’ll sober up and remember she hates you again.”
Lucas was forced to acknowledge that possibility, but he didn’t think that was how it would turn out. It only took three days for him to receive a letter from the dragoness that proved him right, though he did his best not to rub it in the gnome’s face, at least until he’d arranged a rendezvous.
