Reaver's Servants
A Night to Remember
How did it come to this? Barry thought, as he woke up from the most uncomfortable sleep he had ever had. Barry's headache intensified when he opened his eyes halfway and saw the morning sun glaring back at him. One more night of freedom, they called it. One more night before Barry was "sentenced" to a life of being a husband; a fate worse than death to some though Barry couldn't think of anything better than waking up next to Miss Sarah every morning.
Barry groaned softly and looked around. He had no idea where he was or how they got to such a high point, but Barry knew this wasn't good. He heard other familiar groans and looked behind him. Reaver, missing his hat and his vest buttoned wrong, got up as if rising from the dead. His outfit had lipstick marks all over it, as well as some smeared on his lips and cheek. "I say, that was the third best party I have ever been a part of. It ranks right after the time someone let a wild boar into the manor and tied truffles to my posterior." He moaned softly as he stretched.
Gordon, who was missing a shirt sleeve and wearing Reaver's goggles on his forehead, staggered himself awake and looked around. "Did we get away from those gypsies?" he mumbled, not sure if he was recounting a dream or not.
Beside Gordon, Elliot sat up and looked around. He had Reaver's hat on, though it was noticeably too big for him. "AHHHH! I'M BLIND!" Elliot shouted, scratching at the hat covering his eyes. Reaver, still barely awake, reached for his hat and took it off the screaming boy's head. Elliot relaxed a bit, only to feel Reaver smack him in the back of the head with his hat. Elliot chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his head at the exact moment the sunlight peaked over a nearby structure.
A soft moan came from a few feet away. "Next time I see that Sam Guevenne guy…" murmured a soft deep voice from the other side of the incline. The others looked over and saw Geoffrey, sitting up straight and wiping drool off his face. "…I am going to shove that staff down his throat."
Each man covered their eyes and looked around. It was obviously early morning, though no one was sure what time. Reaver reached for his pocket watch, but seemed a bit dismayed when it wasn't in its usual spot in his vest pocket. He was also a little dismayed to find he wasn't wearing a vest. Reaver, ever resourceful, looked off into the horizon. "A trick I learned during my days on the high seas. My eyes are still a little hazy so I can't tell exactly what time it is by the positioning. Once they refocus, I'll tell you all the time."
Barry hacked up a little phlegm and spit it off the side of whatever they were on. His breath tasted of alcohol, though what kind he couldn't tell. It tasted like a mix of many types. "Alright, we need to at least find out where we are so we can get back to Lakeview without causing a stir."
Gordon, fixing his shirt so it sat straight, looked around. "I don't remember anything about last night. I just remember leaving the mansion and everything after that is a blur." Gordon started to stand up, but found that equilibrium was not his friend. "Then something about gypsies and…after that, it's a blur until right now."
A soft moaning came from the other side of Reaver. Reaver turned to look at his jacket, which had come off at some point, and watched it move around. Reaver's still somewhat drunken mind already assumed the worst. "My jacket is alive!" he shouted, reaching for his hip. It was at that point he remembered he left his precious Dragonstomper at home at the request of Mrs. Hatch.
Stirring nearby, the other party guests seemed to awaken. Smacking his lips, Logan sat up and rubbed his eyes as Reaver's jacket fell from his body. "If it pleases the court…" he mumbled, scratching his eyes. Logan looked around and then back at the group staring at him. "Oh, good it's just you lot. I dreamt I was being sued by a town full of chickens and I was defending myself. I was losing, too." He looked around and sat up a little more.
Reaver took his jacket back and wrapped it around his shoulders. It was cold on top of wherever it was they were. "Wherever we are, I hope there is an easy way down."
Logan, after wiping the rest of the sleep from his eyes, felt the area around him. He knew this place and nodded. "Yep! Just as I suspected." He mumbled. He knew something, but whatever it was, he seemed to be keeping it to himself for now.
"What happened last night?" Barry asked. Everyone except Logan looked at Barry and tried to think. "I remember Sarah telling me to have a good time and then after that, there was the bar…"
The evening before had been uneventful. Barry wasn't looking forward to the party that Reaver had planned, but knew he had no choice in the matter. Reaver was the best man, and the one duty that Reaver looked forward to as best man was setting up the bachelor party. Barry only knew this meant trouble. He was dressed in a suit not unlike his uniform, except with a different jacket, and could hear the excited sounds of his awaiting party goers downstairs, waiting for him.
"Will you girls be alright without us?" Barry asked.
Miss Sarah, who had been helping Rosie fold laundry, just smiled. Willa and Beryl were present, though they weren't helping. Rosie had perched herself in Reaver's room to finish folding and hanging up his clothes and linens. Rosie had been distant lately, or more distant than usual. Rosie seemed to have something on her mind, but planning any type of party for Miss Sarah was not one of them. Mrs. Hatch, Barry discovered much to his horror, had taken over that.
"We'll be fine, Barry." Miss Sarah chirped, taking another shirt out of the basket. "We don't have anything big planned for tonight. Just an evening with the ladies, is all. Mr. Reaver is anxious to get your stag party on the road, so don't keep him waiting."
The girls, save for Rosie, giggled. Barry was looking for any excuse not to go downstairs to his awaiting party. He had no idea what kind of night Reaver had planned but he knew it wouldn't end well. Barry still wasn't sure about his party, but he knew he didn't have much choice. "I just hate the thought of you ladies all alone in this big mansion without anyone to protect you."
The girls, including Rosie this time, laughed. Miss Sarah finished folding a shirt and smiled at her fiancé. The girls, finished with their task, left Reaver's room in single file. Their destination was the spare bedroom that everyone involved with the wedding called "The War Room". Mrs. Hatch was already inside, making some final preparations to Miss Sarah's dress behind a dressing screen. Miss Sarah kissed Barry on the cheek and stood in the middle of the room. "We're not completely helpless, Barry. You go and enjoy yourself." Miss Sarah watched as Rosie, Willa, and Beryl pushed Barry out of the room.
Before Barry could protest, he felt himself being shoved out of the room. "And remember," shouted Beryl. "-you're not allowed to see the bride for an entire day before the wedding! That means when you guys get back from whatever deprived acts Mr. Reaver has planned: STAY OUT OF THE WAR ROOM!"
With that, Beryl slammed the door and locked it. Barry sighed and made his way downstairs. He could hear the excitement outside the main doorway. He wondered why they were more excited than he was. To Barry, a good evening consisted of getting his work done so he'd have more time with Miss Sarah. Reaver promised Barry earlier that this would be a night he never forgot. Barry was already trying.
Barry desperately wanted to be happy. In less than forty-eight hours, he and Miss Sarah would be standing at an altar vowing their lives to each other. But he kept feeling a sinking feeling deep in his gut that didn't seem to go away. There was no full moon on this night, so he couldn't blame that for the unease he was feeling. Barry sighed, straightened himself up, and slowly opened the front door. In doing so, he felt a wave of noise makers and confetti hit him.
Standing before him, tossing confetti and blowing noise makers were his groomsmen and his best man. Reaver (the best man) unenthusiastically blew into a noise maker as Elliot and Gordon (his groomsmen) tossed confetti into the air. Joining in the night of merriment was Geoffrey, Miss Sarah's older brother and a man Barry was happy to call his future brother-in-law. Geoffrey was mostly there on his sister's request, to make sure the party didn't get too rowdy.
Standing behind the celebrating men, tall and ominous, was Logan (former king of Albion and Reaver's silent business partner). Barry had forgotten that Reaver invited him to the wedding. As always, Logan wore a loose scarf to cover his mouth. Logan didn't have a place in the wedding, but Logan always knew when to make himself useful. Tonight, his connections with his sister (the Queen) would secure a pretty decent party for the revelers.
"…and finally, the wild groom emerges from its cave!" Reaver shouted, taking the noisemaker out of his mouth. "We have a tight schedule to keep, Hatch! Let's get a move on!"
Barry wasn't surprised that Reaver was more excited for the bachelor party than he was. "I don't anything showy, Master." Barry chirped as the group forced him toward the front gate. "Maybe a few pints and a round of poker and then back home to bed. Got a big day tomorrow!"
Reaver laughed loudly. "Oh please, Hatch! This isn't some high tea! The girls can sit around and eat bon-bons and gossip all they want, but this is your final night of freedom!"
Barry leaned back, finding no support of any kind. He scratched his head and looked around again. "Well, I remember the evening starting off innocent enough." Barry noticed he was only wearing one glove and his jacket was missing.
"Innocent isn't what I'd call our night, but if you say so." Logan remarked, leaning against his knees. Barry still wasn't sure what Logan was actually doing with the bachelor party group. Barry had only seen Logan once in the past year and a half and his last visit was over as quickly as he got there. Barry realized Logan was the reason why Rosie didn't want to leave Reaver's room all day. Miss Sarah had told Barry the reason for this when they learned Logan would be attending both the wedding and his bachelor party. Barry was thankful that his fiancé was a good person, but a horrible gossip. Everyone had vices, and gossip was one of hers.
Elliot, rubbing his head, tried to get the ringing in his ears to stop. He wasn't sure what time it was but he was certain it was too early for whatever was happening right now. "I remember getting to the pub but most of what happened after that is a blur." He murmured, holding back a hiccup.
The tweeting birds perched nearby made Geoffrey's head hurt. His breath tasted like a mixture of alcohols stemming from wine to cheap ale and possibly even day old coffee. He wasn't sure where the coffee taste came from and he was positive he would have remembered stopping for coffee. At the present moment, however, he couldn't even remember drinking the wine.
"I remember…" Reaver snickered, placing his hand over his stomach. He felt a burp trying to rise from his gut but was disappointed when nothing came up. Reaver chuckled softly to himself, laying back on the incline once again. He still couldn't see too well and was surprised by this. "I remember very well…"
"To my faithful assistant, Barry Hatch…" Reaver started, standing on the table with a bottle of wine in one hand. He held it up for the entire crowd to see, as if holding up a trophy. The bachelor party was a mixture of those men invited to the wedding and the usual pub patrons. Barry held his hand over his face, trying not to associate with the man standing on the table. "You have been my assistant for many years. You keep my finances, you keep the manor in check, and you throw out lingering party guests and late night companions." Reaver took a quick swig from the wine bottle. "If not for you, I'm sure my beautiful Lakeview Manor would have gone up in flames by now. And now, for some reason, a woman has decided that you'll do." He laughed and the crowd laughed with him.
The crowd clapped along to Reaver's speech, though Barry wasn't paying attention. "When I first hired Hatch, he came into my office with a bruised cheek and a bandage on his neck. I asked him if he had gotten into a bar fight the night before and he told me, and this is the amusing part, that he recently 'retired' from a career as a light-weight boxer. His resume was impressive, to say the least. Extensive accounting experience and even lighting fast reflexes were listed as his strengths. I wanted to test that so when I hired him, I tossed a knife at him!"
Reaver took a swig of his wine and looked down at Barry. "But seriously, Hatch; you're marrying the best cook I've ever had. I have a good feeling Miss Sarah will make a fine wife. I'm sure you agree, considering those noises I hear from your room whenever she stays with you!"
The men guffawed loudly, though Geoffrey looked at his future brother-in-law with terrified shock from his place at the bar. Barry could feel Geoffrey's eyes on him and decided not to turn around. Reaver decided this was a good chance to continue. "I heard Willa tell Beryl the other day that Miss Sarah was walking funny. Beryl thought she had pulled a muscle but oh, how naïve that girl can be. You'd think with glasses that thick she'd be able to see what was right in front of her." Reaver finished up his wine and wiped his lips. "Hatch, you're a braver man than I. For what more treacherous journey is there than marriage?"
Most the men in the bar, even those men not associated with the party, raised their mugs in agreement. "Assuming you don't kill her on your wedding night from a head injury involving the headboard of a bed, I shudder to believe you and Miss Sarah will live a long, fruitful, and mind-numbingly lackluster life together."
Barry clapped his hands slowly as the raucous men around him applauded loudly. He was thankful Reaver kept his speech clean, if not somewhat insulting.
At the bar, Geoffrey nursed his mug of ale as the wild music started. The "entertainment" for the night had arrived and now the bar was really starting to jump. Geoffrey could have sworn the seat beside him was empty a second before, but now it was occupied by a man in simple black clothes. The man looked unassuming, so Geoffrey didn't think much of him.
"Your party seems to be getting off to a pretty good start." The man beside Geoffrey mumbled as he nursed a mug of ale that Geoffrey believed appeared out of nowhere. He already sounded drunk, but articulated as if he had just ordered his first mug. Geoffrey didn't recall seeing anyone come near them since he ordered his own drink. "It seems the groom is having a hard time getting into the spirit of things. He is aware of how a stag party is supposed to work, right?"
"He's a little nervous. He's marrying my sister in two days." said Geoffrey, twirling around in his chair and leaning against the bar.
The man nodded. He held out his hand to shake Geoffrey's. "The name's Sam. Sam Guevenne." The man remarked as he and Geoffrey shook hands.
"I'm Geoffrey. You live in Bowerstone?" Geoffrey asked.
The man, Sam Guevenne, shook his head. "Oh no, I'm from…well, let's say I don't leave my comfort zone much and I'm here on business. I sell a nice little menagerie of services. But mostly I sell merriment to those who desperately need it. I decided it was time to branch out and see whether or not this land could use my special brand of joviality and mirth." He laughed, grabbing his mug and taking a long chug. Geoffrey could have sworn Sam's mug should have been empty by now, but it looked like it had been refilled just a moment ago with no barmaid in sight.
Geoffrey looked over at the party and then back to his own mug. "He's just a little nervous about getting married to enjoy the party. His best man seems to be having a good time, though." Geoffrey pointed to Reaver, who was still on the table doing an obscene dance with one of the "entertainers" he had hired.
Sam Guevenne laughed and took another long sip from his mug. "Maybe when I'm not here on business I'll come back and party with him. But it seems I was right in thinking my services were needed." Sam Guevenne reached into a bag that Geoffrey could have sworn wasn't there before and pulled out a green bottle with writing he didn't recognize on the label. "My 'underlings' thought I was crazy for venturing so far from home and they didn't believe me when I told them it'd be worth it. Call me a scout, of sorts."
Geoffrey had no idea what this guy was talking about. At that moment, Reaver and Barry came toward the bar, Reaver pushing Barry. "Did you like my speech, Geoffrey?" Reaver asked, pushing Barry to sit on the stool next to Geoffrey. Reaver looked over at the man calling himself Sam Guevenne and frowned. "I don't recall inviting you." He murmured, keeping his hands on Barry's shoulders to keep him from moving.
With a chuckle, Sam Guevenne looked directly at Reaver with a drunken, yet aware, smile. "You didn't invite most of the people here, either." Sam Guevenne laughed. "I never miss a party, especially a stag party that has great potential. The name's Sam Guevenne and I am a merchant of merriment. You don't look like a guy who wants any stupid trinket. No, when you make a wager, you want it to be worth your while. How's about a little contest for a staff of untold power?"
Reaver winked at Sam Guevenne. "A 'staff' you say? What kind of untold power does this 'staff' of yours have?" he chuckled. Reaver bit the gloved tips of his fingers and smiled.
"I see this land is not short on innuendo. Check that off the list." Sam Guevenne murmured. "How about your bachelor here against me in a drinking contest, what do you say?"
Before Barry could agree or disagree, Reaver slammed his hand on the bar counter. "Now we're talking! But I'll have you know Hatch can hold his liquor better than anyone I know, myself excluded. Hatch drinks like a fish, even if he thinks I don't know." Reaver laughed. Barry, despite the truth in his boss's statement, tried to deny it. "Of course, he's a very bad drunk. Last time we had a drinking contest, he woke up in my office in the arms of his future wife and with a house plant on him." Reaver, his arm around Barry's shoulder, finally felt this party was about to get started. "What's the poison?"
By this time, the bachelor party had steered its way to the bar. "A special concoction of my own design, known to knock a man off his feet in no time flat. I've been drinking it for years so I've grown a tolerance to it, but I'd like to see how the Man of Honor does."
Barry gulped loudly as the odd colored liquid swirled around in his mug as it was poured. This pub, 'The Cock in the Crown' had a bartender who never allowed outside drinks in. Barry wondered why the bartender hadn't said anything yet. Barry once saw the bartender throw a man out by his pants for bringing in a cup of water. The more Barry thought about it, the more he noticed the bartender was actually nowhere to be found. He didn't have time to think about that as the crowd formed.
"I don't know about this…" Barry murmured, holding his mug up.
"Don't be such a downer at your own party, Barry!" shouted Elliot, finally making his way through the crowd. He was noticeably shorter than most of the partygoers and had a hard time keeping up. "If you wanted to sit around and gossip while talking about shoes and eating bon-bons, we would have left you with the women!"
The crowd laughed. Barry puffed up his chest and nodded, putting on a more determined face. "Alright! Let's get this contest started!"
Amongst the cheering of the rowdy crowd, Sam Guevenne took the first long gulp and refilled his cup. "Ahh, now that's refreshing. Your turn…"
Barry sniffed the drink a little and took small sips. "Get into the spirit of things, Hatch!" shouted Reaver, smacking Barry's back. Barry gulped his entire mouthful down while trying not to choke. The drink was surprisingly tasty, unlike any he had ever had. Barry decided to ask this Same Guevenne guy for a few bottles of it to take back to Miss Sarah after the party was over.
Gordon coughed a little to clear his throat. "Why does my mouth taste like grass?" he asked, still sputtering. Gordon didn't receive an answer, nor was he actually expecting one. The others just stared at each other, trying to figure out what had happened.
"I remember the drinking contest." Elliot murmured softly. "You sure were packing them away, Barry. I don't know what kind of liquor that was. It smelled weird and I didn't see a vintage number on the bottle. I'm pretty sure he drugged us or something, but I don't see why he would. Nothing of value is missing, right?"
Each man, at that moment, felt their pockets and looked around. "I still have all my money." said Gordon. The others murmured their agreements and went back to thinking. "Well, he didn't rob us. Anything missing was probably lost in the merriment. Gordon looked at his wrist, and then remembered that he didn't own a watch. He leaned back and looked up at the sky. The clouds overhead looked like cotton balls, which meant despite the night the day was going to be pretty nice.
"First things first: we figure out where we are and how we got here." said Geoffrey, trying to regain his balance. Standing was obviously not going to work for him, so he stayed in his sitting position. "Does anyone remember what happened after the contest?"
Looking at each other and shrugging, the men felt themselves return to square one. "I don't know what we did last night, but I'm guessing Sarah is going to be right sore at me." Barry mumbled, falling backward onto the incline. The surface was hard and felt like clay planks. "I bet her night was easy: eating bon-bons, gossiping, talking about shoes, drinking some frilly wine."
"Women are easy to please when you know how to do it. But not to worry, Hatch. I don't believe we went anywhere near Lakeview Manor last night after we left it." Reaver's reassurance didn't help Barry feel better, but it was doing wonders for the others. "Besides, you can't see her until the wedding. Tradition and all that nonsense; you know those girls wouldn't let you within a mile of Lakeview Manor while Miss Sarah is in it. I was planning on letting you stay in the garden shed, but oh no, you don't want to sleep on bags of fertilizer and sod the night before your wedding."
"Well pardon me for not wanting to smell like a barn on my wedding day!" Barry protested, though he didn't look up or face Reaver. They were all too hung over for there to be any repercussions for Barry yelling at his boss, and even so, Reaver didn't have his gun.
Logan had been silent for some time. He scratched his chin and looked toward the partygoers again. "Speaking of barns, does anyone remember what we did with that goat?" he asked.
Holding a bottle of Sam Guevenne's wine in one hand, Reaver shushed his fellow partygoers as they snuck onto the farm. How they got to this farm at this time of night was unknown, but they were positive what was about to happen was going to be the greatest thing ever.
After the contest, a very generous Sam Guevenne gave Barry and the others a few bottles of his concoction as a wedding gift. No one knew where he had gone after that. When a drunken Barry turned around to thank him for the contest and the booze, Sam Guevenne was gone. After the bartender through Barry and his party out of the tavern, Barry decided not to worry about it. He was too drunk and feeling unusually happy to worry about something as insignificant as a missing person.
"Shut up! You'll wake the farmer!" laughed Elliot, taking a long swig from his bottle. "You'll…you'll wake him and then we'll have to share our booze…" he hiccupped.
"He can find Sam Guevenne and…" Gordon slurred, putting his bottle down on a barrel for a moment. "…and get his own. He's a far…he's a far…oh man…" Gordon leaned against a nearby tree. "I'm dizzy…"
"I'm Logan…" Logan chuckled softly while nursing the booze from his bottle. "You know, I feel good…" he murmured. "I feel very good. Good. Gooooooooood." Logan put his fingers to his lips and felt himself sound out the word slowly. "I like that word. It's a nice word…"
Barry shushed them loudly. "I can't…" he hiccupped softly. "…I can't concentrate you with guys…umm…making words come from your mouths." Barry found the goat and opened the pen slowly. Barry snuck up to the goat and patted its head softly. "Hello little goat. You're my friend…" he murmured. Barry led the goat out of the pen toward the revelers. The goat in question was actually a young kid with a bell around its neck. It looked just old enough to be away from its mother. "I bet you're thirsty, aren't you, little goat?" Barry asked.
Gordon, still leaning against the tree, didn't notice Barry grab his bottle from its place on the barrel. The revelers watched as Barry bottle fed the goat some of their mysterious booze. The goat seemed to take a liking to it and lapped it up fast.
"Now, now; leave some for Gordon!" Reaver slurred, taking the bottle back. He had his bottle in one hand and Gordon's in the other. He took a long swig from both at the same time. The bottles were odd, as no matter how empty they felt, there was still plenty of booze inside. Not that anyone noticed or cared at this point.
At that time, the door to the farmer's house swung open. "Who's there?!" shouted a very irate farmer holding a rifle high. "Who's snooping around my farm at this time of night?! I swear I'll blast a hole in you the size a wagon wheel if you don't get off my property!"
Grabbing their drinks, and the goat, the revelers ran as fast as they could down the path. Gunshots filled the air, though no one was hurt.
"Goat?" asked Barry. "Oh, don't tell me we did something with a goat!" Barry's whining was giving Reaver a headache, though he said nothing. Barry suddenly started to remember. This made him feel even worse about the night's events. "We kidnapped someone's goat and now we don't know where it is!"
Reaver chuckled. "Kid-napped. Good one, Hatch." He laughed softly. Reaver rubbed his eyes a little and smiled jovially. "Ahh, I can see again." He murmured, standing up with a wobble. He narrowed his eyes and put his hand over them to block out the sun.
While Reaver was doing that, Elliot took a long look at his left boot. "I guess that explains why there is a hole in the tip of my boot." He mumbled. "Our goat must have gotten hungry." He pointed to the tip of his boot and wiggled his visible big toe. Elliot seemed pretty amused by this toe and wiggled it some more. There was no doubt he was the youngest of the group. When he saw the annoyed looks on the other men's faces, he dropped his foot slowly and straightened his hair.
Geoffrey put his hand on his stomach and felt it growl. "Well, we had plenty to drink last night, but I don't think we had anything to eat. I'm starving!"
The others, except Reaver, nodded in agreement. "My mouth tastes like grass. Maybe we attempted to eat some kind of vegetation last night. I vaguely remember chewing on a leaf…"
Gordon, slumped over a rock, giggled happily while watching their newly acquired goat eat leaves from a nearby bush. He licked his lips and watched the goat intensely. He was so entranced by the movements of the goat that he ignored the crisis at hand.
"Alright…" murmured Barry, reaching for his bottle that was resting on a nearby fence post. "…let's not panic. I'm sure we can just…" he teetered for a bit, trying to stand up straight. Geoffrey just looked up from his spot on the ground and said nothing.
Reaver, sitting against the fence a little ways away, wasn't listening to Barry's whining. He stared wide-eyed at the crescent moon above them. "Am I a likeable person?" he asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular. "I like to think I am. I have good taste, I'm fabulously rich, and women and men alike adore me! I own the biggest house in Millfields, for crying out loud!" Reaver played with his bottle and peeked inside the top with one eye closed. "There should be no reason for her to be so cold to me! I'm a good boss!"
"What makes you think you're not?" asked Logan, spinning his bottle on the ground.
"Nothing!" Reaver shouted, though not directing it at Logan. "I'm a great boss! I haven't shot any of them once!"
Logan only nodded. "You actually like having them around, don't you?" he asked as his bottle stopped. Logan spun it again. "Those 'Circus Rejects' give your otherwise debauched life a little more meaning. You actually care for them and it's terrifying you!" Logan, still somewhat drunk, spun his bottle again before it stopped.
Reaver sputtered his disapproving laugh as leaves fell from a tree nearby. They both looked up and saw Elliot on a branch, reaching for the moon. At some point, he had begun to wear Reaver's hat because it was now resting somewhat off balanced on his head. "Almost…" he grunted, trying to hold onto the branch and his drink with the same hand. Elliot slipped and fell into the bushes behind the tree and fence. Barry looked up from his nervous breakdown and wobbled over to the bushes. He didn't get a chance to ask Elliot if he was alright because he couldn't form the words.
Nibbling on a leaf, Gordon looked up at the commotion. He chewed the leaf in time with the goat. Gordon spit the leaf out and stood up. He wobbled over to the group and smiled. "You weren't high enough." He sputtered, still spitting out pieces of leaf. "We need to get…" he burped softly and continued. "…we need to get higher. That moon is a high prize…"
Elliot smiled. "I know…I know where we can go…" he slurred as the goat meandered toward them. "We'll go to the castle! Yes, then we'll get high enough and that pesky moon won't bother anyone anymore!"
"That is the smartest thing I've heard all night!" Logan shouted, his bottle still spinning. "I know a way in that hasn't been used in years!" Logan stood up but balanced against the fence. "Follow me, and I will take us to this place I just spoke of." He leaned against the post, fighting the urge to vomit.
As the others crowded around Logan, his bottle finally stopped. It pointed at Reaver. Reaver smiled, puckered up, and gave Logan the biggest, wettest kiss he had ever given.
The three men looked at each other and then at the incline they were on. It was a roof. A very high roof on a very important building. Reaver turned back to the group and nodded. "By the sun, I'd say it's about seven in the morning and we're on the roof of Bowerstone Castle." Reaver carefully stepped toward the others and placed his hands on his hips. "Well, it's not the weirdest place I've ever woken up after a night of drinking, but it's ranked pretty high on the list."
The others ignored that last statement. Barry stood up and sighed. He turned away from the others and shook his head. They were sure he was upset. They saw his shoulders move up and down and then saw him turn around with a big smile on his face. He then started laughing.
"That…" he laughed loudly. "…has got to be the most fun I've had since I began working for Reaver!" he laughed. Soon, the others joined him. "Who would have guessed we'd end up on top of the castle after a night of drinking? I don't know what was in that booze, but I have got to find the guy that gave it to us so I can get some more!"
"I knew you'd eventually get into the spirit of things, Hatch!" Reaver laughed, putting his arm around Barry's shoulder. "Now aren't you happy you didn't spend the evening eating bon-bons, talking about shoes, gossiping, drinking frilly wines, and just generally being bored to death with the girls?" Reaver laughed his question.
Before Barry could answer, the group heard very angry yelling coming from the ground below. They were almost afraid to look over the side to see who was yelling. They did anyway, all at the same time. They saw a handful of servants, the Royal Guard, and Queen Robin all standing in the garden, looking up with angry faces. The garden was a mess and several plants were destroyed. The goat from the night before was with a guard, who was holding onto it.
"I hope you lot have a good explanation for this!" shouted Queen Robin, her hands on her hips. "I have a mind to throw you all in the dungeon but I'd rather not waste the space! Come down here right now and claim any items you don't want thrown out before I lose what's left of my patience!" Queen Robin then noticed the goat had gotten loose from the guard and meandered over to her. The goat started to nibble on a piece of her dress. "AND TAKE THIS DAMN GOAT AWAY FROM HERE BEFORE IT EATS MY ENTIRE GARDEN!"
The group found their way down from the castle roof and was met by a guard and the Queen. She glared at Elliot and Logan in particular. "When you said you two were going to a get-together for a friend, I almost laughed. You two rarely get along but now I see why you two have been so chummy lately. A stag party was it?" the Queen asked. "I don't know how this night began, and frankly I don't want to know. I'm inclined to believe this is somehow Reaver's fault and I will be sending him the bill for any damages done to my garden."
Reaver began to protest, but stopped when the Queen glared at him. The Queen was a small woman, but she knew how to get her point across. She sighed and folded her arms, relaxing a bit. "But, I suppose I should be a bit more pleasant considering the circumstances. A stag party is supposed to be a man's last night of freedom, but that doesn't excuse you from the damages done. The liquor bottles strewn all over my garden, plus the clothes I found in the fountain suggest it was a particularly good party."
The men did remember taking a quick swim in the fountain but didn't bother themselves with details. The men just smiled to one another and then to the Queen.
Queen Robin shook her head. "Head inside and have some breakfast, all of you. After that, leave and never come back here unless I summon you." The Queen had the guard escort the group inside. She turned around and saw the goat eating a piece of paper. Queen Robin walked over and took the paper from the goat. It seemed to be a note of some kind.
"'Had a great time, sorry I had to leave. Business, you know. I can't wait to tell my underlings of this shindig. They won't believe it. I should come to your little corner of the universe more often. Tell Reaver I'll definitely be back for a party again and I'll actually bring the staff next time. Wish Mr. Hatch my best and tell me all about what happened after you got kicked out. Yours, Sam Guevenne.' What in all of Albion?" Queen Robin murmured, crumbling up the paper.
The men walked inside, unsure of if any of their memories would prove correct. The rest of the night was still a blur to them. Though, in the corner of his mind, Barry was content. He was happy that he had this last night of craziness and got it out of his system. Soon, he'd be marrying a woman who he knew would refuse to put up with such foolishness and Barry knew it was time to settle down. As he and the others sat down and awaited a much needed breakfast, Barry wondered how Miss Sarah's bachelorette party had gone. He felt it reassuring that Miss Sarah wasn't the type for craziness.
The Night Before, at Lakeview
"Bon-bon, Miss Sarah?" asked Willa, offering a box to Miss Sarah. Miss Sarah sat in a big chair with a paper crown on her head. She smiled softly and nodded, taking one of the delicious chocolates out of the box and popping it into her mouth. Miss Sarah moaned in delight as the chocolate swirled around in her mouth.
The flow of the party was pretty light, with Miss Sarah, the other maids, Mrs. Hatch, and a few other women enjoying the night. Music played from a gramophone in the corner and spirits were pretty even. Miss Sarah seemed happy that her little hen party was going so smoothly. Even little Reavie seemed to be enjoying herself, having perched herself on Miss Sarah's lap. It felt nice for the maids to be in regular clothing.
The room was divided by a large red curtain.
"You won't believe what I heard from one of the maids working in the house on the other side of the lake. You know, that couple that's always walking hand in hand and boasting about how their marriage is built on trust and love and all that." Beryl whispered to another partygoer. "She said she was cleaning under her boss's bed and found a box full of naughty pictures! But they weren't of his wife!" Beryl laughed along with the partygoer. "So much for that flawless marriage! I bet he's going to get hell for it!"
Mrs. Hatch, after fetching herself some more wine, looked over at Rosie preparing herself a small plate from the snack table. "Rosie, those are some lovely shoes!" Mrs. Hatch almost shouted. Rosie, looking down, just nodded to Mrs. Hatch. "Where did you get them, dear?"
Rosie sighed and put her plate down. "They were a gift." She mumbled. Rosie picked up her plate and walked away. Mrs. Hatch could sense something off, and not the usual sense she felt around Rosie. Being always in what she liked to call "Mother Mode", Mrs. Hatch decided to press the matter when the party was over. She felt Rosie had something she needed to say.
"Your wine glass is almost empty, Miss Sarah!" shouted Willa. Willa picked up a nearby wine bottle and refilled Miss Sarah's glass. "I really like this wine. It's light but it still packs a punch. That Guevenne guy that sold it to us earlier in the market sure knows how to make a good wine."
Miss Sarah smiled and stood up, shooing Reavie away. "Thank you all for such a lovely party. I know I shouldn't gush, but I'm just so happy right now. I'm getting married in two days to a wonderful guy and I'll be entering into a family full of love and understanding." Miss Sarah motioned to Mrs. Hatch, who blushed. "It will be hard leaving Lakeview Manor and Mr. Reaver, but I take with me the experience of a lifetime. I don't think I'd be able to get through this without all of you. Especially you, Rosie."
Rosie heard her name and turned around from getting her snacks. "Thank you, Rosie. For being the first true friend I ever made. And thank you, Beryl and Willa, for also making me feel welcome. Everyone, thank you for being such wonderful friends and staying with me through the good times and bad." Miss Sarah raised her glass and everyone did the same.
When Miss Sarah sat down, everyone crowded around her. Rosie sat next to her and smiled deviously. "Ready for the fun to begin, Miss Sarah?" she asked.
Miss Sarah, who shared the same grin, pulled out her purse and sat it on her lap. "Yes, let's begin…"
The red curtain opened and the music became much jauntier. Mrs. Hatch, sitting next to Miss Sarah, laughed loudly and held up her wine glass. She, along with the others, took out their own respective purses and waited for the lights to go down. "ALRIGHT NOW!" Mrs. Hatch shouted. "BRING ON THE BEEFCAKE!"
The music got louder as the "entertainment" danced unto the makeshift stage. The women, hooting and hollering, threw money at the dancers as they pranced around.
N'cha, everyone!
Well, didn't expect that, did you? Yep, just a few more chapters to go before the big day. The last part was my favorite part to write. Does it show?
You all know Sam Guevenne, correct? You all might know him as Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery from the Elder Scrolls series. It felt right to let our dear ol' Uncle Sanguine make a small cameo in this chapter.
Ahh, the grand tradition of getting completely smashed a few nights before your wedding. Is there anything more lovely? Of course, you never really need a reason to get smashed, now do you? I certainly don't, though I'm not much of a drinker. I do enjoy cake, so there is that. Hehehe
So, apparently, as of this writing, I have a tumblr account. I'll start posting a few of my musings over there, along with some journal updates and maybe some pictures of my everyday life for you guys to enjoy/laugh at/exploit. The link to it is over at my dA page so follow me for updates and such. Or if you're lazy, it's lunapeachielovesyou dot tumblr dot com. Just combine all those.
How did I do? How does it feel to know this story will be ending in just a few chapters? Let me know in a review! I love getting reviews, so don't forget to do that. Well, what are you waiting for?
Read, review, and be merry!
Reaver and Barry Hatch belong to Lionhead
Sam Guevenne (Sanguine) belongs to Bethesda