A Mischievous Tale of Magical Mayhem

6 | The Opalescent Otter

The Opalescent Otter was as garish as one would expect in a town named Ballsdeep. The inn boasted an opulent grand staircase with a grandfather clock carved at the top before branching into Eastern and Western wings, and the polished marble floors had decorative otters carved into the tiles throughout the ground floor.

The more expensive rooms overlooked the small town and provided a pristine view of the ocean on a clear day, while the other end hung over the expanse of a massive tropical garden. Statues of maritime wildlife decorated the manicured lawns, and lights of every variety—fairy lights, garden lanterns, and floating candles illuminated the night, casting an enchanting glow over the beach and palm trees. Elegant gold trim framed the cream-colored walls, displaying fine oil paintings from across the realms.

The wait staff wore uniforms embroidered in turquoise thread over off-white coats while the maids wore coral embroidered petticoats. Gender restricted their roles; females worked in housekeeping while the males ran everything from the concierge to the kitchens and room service. The only females permitted to serve outside cleaning duty were those assigned as personal chambermaids. Escort services were not permitted at this inn; however, that didn't stop patrons from tipping generously for an hour with an attractive lass or lad so long as they practiced discretion.

Each suite came with a four-poster bed with sheer curtains imported from Duskvale, shimmering in the light cast from the floor-to-ceiling windows, private bathroom, and deck with lounge chairs, an end table, and exotic plants. Fluted crystal glasses and commissioned decanters were provided upon request, complete with timely room-service served on exquisite silver trays.

The Opalescent Otter was a magnificent display of luxury at its finest among the wealthy district, nestled among the trees and far from the common classes and filthy streets leading to the docks.

Ben stared up at the ostentatious structure and chewed a hangnail anxiously. Coming here was a mistake, he could already see. He fit in like a crow among swans, though he'd worn his finest things.

Brixby had given him an earful when he'd come down to breakfast that morning. The night before, Ben had climbed back into his attic room through a window, stripped out of his ruined clothes, and fallen asleep; Brix, he learned, had spent nearly the entire night looking for him.

He'd been concerned (which Ben appreciated) and angry (which Ben appreciated less).

"What if you'd fallen from the bluff and broken a leg, or worse?" Brixby had shouted, purple-faced with rage. "What if were you lyin' unconscious, helpless as the tide came in? What if that drunken scoundrel had gone after ye, and what if he'd found out you weren't a lass at all, but a lad? I've seen it happen, and it isn't pretty. In the big cities, there're plenty of taverns with barmaids like your Benna. Some go there just for that, but some wander in by happenstance; and when a drunken idiot discovers a maid is missing certain bits and possessed of others, it can go very bad, very fast. I'm worried for you, is all," he'd finished, half out of breath and with sweat shining on his creased face. "No more of this, you hear me? I don't want to see you dressed like that again."

As his mind replayed the unpleasant memory, Ben scowled and reached up to pull the sproutling from his hair. It had gotten itself wrapped in a curl, and its efforts to extract itself were getting painful. Careful not to hurt its fragile, twiggy limbs, he freed it and set it on his shoulder.

"Guess I should give you a name, since you're hanging around," he said. "How about... Sprout?"

The sproutling squeaked and hugged the side of his neck.

"Sprout it is." He smiled ruefully. That was easy; convincing himself to enter the Opalescent Otter was much less so.

Brixby was probably right: the risks of going about as 'Benna' outweighed the benefit of whatever pleasure Ben derived from dressing in fine clothes. Unless he ran away and joined one of the big theater companies in the capital at Ardensfall, he had no business going about in 'ladies' things.