Jack Of All Trades ✓ | steampunk, dragons, trickery

Chapter 6.2: Potato and the Leek

In the morning, Jack was up before Eli. It worked out well. He quietly grabbed his bags and slipped out. He wondered for a moment if he should leave her cash but decided against it. He didn't ask to be held up in a motel with a girl that lied to his face and annoyed his guts. 

The receptionist Scott wasn't at the desk, but some other guy. He didn't even lift his head as Jack went by. Probably believed Jack was just going out for a bit. Never would he guess Jack would never come back.

Outside was a fresh, unusually slightly sunny morning. Jack walked down the paved road, passing boutiques so shabby they looked like they were behind several eras. A three-story bank came around the corner he turned, sporting a lovely decay on its left side. Decay on buildings was rare in Amsgeld and Hobbersmead. They used treated copper so that it wouldn't get devoured by the attacking elements mingling in the rain.

Jack stared up at the bank wondering why they didn't bother to take it down and renew it. Maybe they didn't have enough money here? He kept on walking, winding through twisty streets where copper-colored shops were so close to each other it reminded him of a bar of chocolate. It was almost seven-thirty, but not many people were out yet.

He soon came upon a bridge leading to shabbier part of the city. The wide gorge looked like it used to have a river in it, but that was all stuffed full with garbage. Mostly metals and some dark green sewer muck.

On the opposite bank, he spotted two children playing in the street with barely anything on for clothes and for fat. This was poverty lower than Hobbersmead. Jack knew these existed, but it was his first time to actually see one.

Here I was thinking Hobbersmead was badly off and now look at that! He recalled the policy that said only those with a certain amount of income could receive aid from the king or the minister. Anyone below that were just supposed to suffer.

Injustice looks like this, I suppose. He turned his back to it and shoved the image out of his mind. He couldn't think about being a philanthropist anymore. Jack had as little money as they if he used up all he had on his person. He followed the river line and spotted a café on the better side of life, but just on the cusp. Its fancy, cursive sign written in gold on a black metal plate above was a striking contrast to the stack of boards, pipes, and other random things of metal that somehow made the structure stand on a slight angle.

'Coffee and Sandwiches', he read the sign. It even came with the quotation marks maybe to be funny. Funny or not, it sounded like an affordable, and promising breakfast. He sauntered into it. 

So early as it was, there was only one other customer in there. A gray-haired man in a striped sweater sat in the back, hunched over his meal. The only waitress in there, a woman with brown hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, came to take Jack to his seat. Once there, he ordered a coffee and an egg sandwich.

"Happen to have the morning paper?" he asked. The waitress brought it for him right away.

She pointed to a little wooden stand near the register. "Just the rack there. Return it when you're done."

"Thank you." He smiled. Then he got up to touch her left arm as she was about to leave. "Sorry, do you also happen to have a train schedule and a map of Belvinshire?" He had noticed they did, but not free.

Where has this handsome man been hiding? came her thought.

"Do we look like a store stop to you?" she said with a frown.

"Sorry, no, but I'm new to the area and came a bit unprepared." He furrowed his brows slightly to look a little perplexed.

Hope Boss won't find out.

She left his table and came back with a map and train schedule. She leaned down to whisper, "Take it. On the house."

Jack smiled. "Thank you, miss."

She left his table and when she glanced over her shoulder he winked at her.

Damnrabbit, she swore. Where has he been hiding?

At that café, Jack ate his breakfast, drank the bitter coffee, and considered his next plan of action. He knew Norman was going to Dragon's Wood, so he would just go there to apprehend him. Maybe pretend to give in. Norman always underestimated what Jack could do.

He sat contemplating more about how he was going to attack rather than how he was going to find Dragon's Wood. It was a location. Locations could be found on a map. It was an attack that couldn't. Norman was a puncher. He liked to use his fists. Jack, on the other hand, let his legs do the talking.

And my mouth, of course. Hands are for guns and knives. Thinking about knives, he called over the waitress and ordered sausage. Once that came, he asked for a knife. After enjoying the sausage, he wiped the knife on his napkin. When the waitress wasn't looking, he slipped the knife into this inner pocket. It was always handy to have extra on your person.

The roar of a stopping airship sounded outside. He peered out the window to see a charity airship settling into mid-float. A man came out and the waitress rushed to the door to fling it open for the unusually lavish guest. 

This man was two potatoes on top of each other. He didn't walk, but kind of teetered and rolled as if he'd already been drinking. His mustache was a tuft of gray just above his lip, his nose was a ball of uncooked meat, and his lips were so thin they might as well not be there at all.

That shaved head really tops off that sorry dung of potato dinner, Jack smirked, too much salt and too little pepper.

"Mister Reginald!" the waitress bowed so fast she could have flipped over. "I-we didn't expect you to come today."

Oh damnitch. Damnitch. Boss isn't here, what am I going to do? she thought fretfully.

Reginald, Jack thought, the Philanthropic Potato. He'd heard of the man but didn't know what he looked like. Leonard Reginald rarely appeared in the public eye. But for a body like that, Jack could understand. It was shameful to be a sorry potato when you were helping the poor.

"A table for Mister Reginald!" shrieked a woman so harshly her face turned blue. She was flanking the potato like a side of leeks. But that was just one leek. It was a skimpy dinner.

"Yes, sir, madam," Suzie squeaked and guided the glob to sit in one of the booth seats in the in back. Of course, the wooden chairs wouldn't have worked.

Reginald thundered to the back and plunked himself down. The leek stood beside him until he told it to sit as well. It pulled up a chair to sit near the table, but not at. The hierarchy was heavy there. Reginald ordered bacon and eggs and a side of fries and "make everything double!"

Jack turned his gaze away, not interested in watching a pig eat a pig or a potato eat a potato. He gazed instead out the door at the airship. It was too fine a model for a philanthropist.

More like a model for me. Since it was still mid-float, he guessed the pilot was on board. Then he noticed something unique about the airship. At that moment, the sun began to shine on the rickety lands that made way to the poorman's villages. A shadow cast on the belly of the airship.

Why, shine a light! Jack grinned. What's a philanthropist want with guns?

A thundering, "No!" came with a fist slam rattling plates. 

Jack turned. Reginald was red-faced with fury and the leek was apologizing profusely. Something had angered the potato.