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My throat sore, a hundred-pound sheep girl in my arms, and my cigarette unfinished? Yep, perfect time for the hangover to kick in.

I'm no stranger to arguments moments after waking up. And I've had my fair share of yelling matches with priests. But I don't think I've ever had to improvise as hard as I just did. And I'm the scum who got through the maritime academy by the seat of my pants.

Goddamn, If I ever see my parents, I'm going to thank them for telling me all those Greek myths.

My eyelids feel heavy as I repeat the thought. Parents.

Marriage.

I think I just jumped into the post-honeymoon part of marriage. When you're too reliant to divorce but not reliant enough for compromise. Not that I have experience beyond watching my parents. But that's why I am the way I am. It's why I like to be the captain of my own ship.

But I can't be that now. So between the two sheep wanting to drag my body to unfamiliar places, I chose the fairer sex. The lady… sheep… girl. I wince at the throbbing inside my skull and nearly drop the ewe.

God, would I kill for an Aspirin? Anything to escape this migraine.

God, let's not kid ourselves. Escape? I just volunteered to build ships for some lady sheep whose life I just fell into. She's got an attitude when she doesn't get her way. I can already see her getting more demanding when she does.

As I enter my room, I hear Gouentine murmur. I didn't catch what she said; my ears started throbbing. But it was cute.

She was cute.

Maybe she'll give me leeway once I'm working. Shipbuilding I could do in my sleep, bare in mind. I've done maintenance on Cauleen drunk. I don't like being made to do anything at gunpoint.

Ironic, at gunpoint is how I came here.

With a growing headache, I throw off my coat and climb back into bed. Shifting Gouentine in my arms to be a little spoon, I get the two of us under the covers and rest my head on hers. It's hard to sleep, and my hangover headache is worsened by stress. I'm dreading future painting.

The only sterns I want to paint is the one currently pressed against me.

I sleep off the hangover without any dreams.

I wake up to the sound of wheels rolling in and feel that the sheets beside me are vacant. Gouentine is still dressed as she was before she woke up, pushing a cart into the room. Breakfast today: tea, poundcake, and a bowl full of purple worms.

I'm going to be honest. I've eaten enough galley grub and traveled to enough seedy bars. Scrapped together disgusting meals from houses of women I woke up in bed with. So the look of food doesn't phase me. And if I remember correctly, this purple stuff ain't half bad.

I make myself a plate. The worms smell horrible as I cut into them. Kind of like cutting into port wine cheese.

Now that I think about it, do they eat cheese here?

They thought I was talking about semen when I said milk. Maybe not.

"Hey, Gwen." My fork tings against the plate. The ewes wearing a new dress, some designed as the other one with short sleeves and lace around the collar and cuff. She's got the chair pulled out from the desk and a brush in her hand. Her hair/wool is undone and down to her shoulders.

It looks good, to say the least.

She looks good.

I look down and try not to stare.

"Yes?" Gouentine says, her eyes towards the mirror as she brushes.

"Nothing." I'll lay off the question of cum. As hot as she is, enough of that was mentioned today.

Was it still today? Or did that all happen yesterday? I looked outside the window, graced with something I hadn't seen. It was foggy yesterday. The rainclouds of the night before must have fallen at dawn. Now it was a clear day, maybe in the afternoon. And I could see mountains. Cliff sides. Like nature had crafted walls for this mansion and the village down below to be placed inside them. The town looked bigger from up here than inside. It was definitely more on the town size. The two-story brick and mortar buildings became more familiar towards the water, with a bunch of chimney stacks pluming smoke on the wharfside.

"How long did we sleep?" I ask in between bites. The worms tasted less wallnutty than that pickled stuff I ate earlier. More onion-like.

"I woke up around 8pm last night. You've been asleep since yesterday." Her voice sounds relatively low on energy. Not her usual snobby point but more like she's going through a routine.

"You don't sound good. You sleep well?"

"I slept fine."

Fine. Now I know I've fucked up. Any woman who uses fine is the opposite. Now, what could piss her off? I solved her problem with the Mayor AND carried her to bed with a hangover.

"Are you pissed at me?"

I never thought a sheep could give such an angry glare.

"Angel, if we are to have a healthy relationship, you must respect my boundaries."

Though part of me thought I had misread this lassy. Maybe I had been too aggressive. The last thing I needed was being a convicted sex offender in an alien dimension.

Done eating, I set the plate down. I tried not to sound worried as I spoke. "What, you don't like hugs? You weren't bothered yesterday when we fell into bed."

Now it was her time to sound worried. "I do like hugs! I just woke up and found your arms… difficult to escape."

She blushed through her cheek fur.

My gears started going.

I could feel the shit-eating grin forming on my face. An involuntary reaction. It's when I know I can get up to no good with little repercussion.

She definitely likes me.

And I am going to tease her for it.

"Well, you were a catch worth keeping."

In response, Gouentine giggled. And then she snorted.

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. I Sat back on the bed and watched Gouentine's face going from nervous to surprised as she snapped towards the mirror. In the reflection, I could see her trying to hide her guilty smile, her cheeks getting redder.

Gouentine brushed her hair like a maniac trying to stifle further laughter. Finally, she spoke in a low voice. "It's not that funny."

"It's cute. If you laugh more, you'd snort more. Then you're more cute."

That's the direct hit. Again Gouentine broke out into laughter. "Twins! Why-" she snorted again. "Why didn't they say you were flirtatious?"

I shrugged. "I'm tailor-made."

The laughter went on for several minutes, like music to my ears. And her floppy ears moving with every laugh? That was a sight. And her eyes shined like emeralds as she laughed so hard she cried.

God, It feels good to know that no matter what dimension I was in, I could get a woman to laugh. It gives me confidence. Makes me think I can do anything.

Mainly get laid, specifically with the woman who was laughing.

Maybe I'll make a move on Gwen.

Or maybe I shouldn't.

Don't shit where you eat.

But then again, she does seem to like me. It would be mutual. And then maybe after a while, she would get bored, and we could just remain business partners. I could get my own stipend and buy an apartment. Set up a bar tab. And just be Gouentines employee.

Or maybe she could become my employee.

I could introduce some real change around here. Shake the very earth with theories on shipbuilding two centuries before their invention. Really bring the wrath of God to naval warfare.

How about that for an angel?

You know what? I'm still the captain of my own ship. That's all this, this otherworldly situation, is. An opportunity to learn true freedom. The freedom at the top.

And then Gouentine could be my secretary.

I wonder how good she'd look in a business suit?

My train of thought was derailed by her coughing. "Ahem. You reminded me. We need to go to the tailor."

And I was just beginning to have fun. "When?"

"When I'm done with my hair."

I nodded and laid back in the bed. "I appreciate the offer again, miss, but my clothes fit me fine. They just need some cleaning."

She turned to face me with an angry pout and eyes closed. "You said you could captain and maintain a ship. You must dress the part; otherwise, no one will take you seriously."

"I think I'm serious enough."

I caught another scowl from the sheep.

"You keep making that face, you won't be able to make any other," I said, getting out of bed.

"I'm fine with that. It only comes out so much because sheeple deserve it."

I stifled a laugh as I walked over to her, hands in my pocket.

"What?" Gouentine stood up, her hands on her hips.

"Sheeple."

"Tsk." She turned her muzzle over her shoulder. "You angels have such a weird language."

Then Gounetine put her brush on the desk and grabbed my arm. "Let us go."

At this rate, I was dragged by my arm so much that it was beginning to piss me off. So I grabbed Gounetine and hoisted her on my shoulders.

"BY THE TWINS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" She kicked my ribs with her cloven feet and pushed herself off my head, tumbling off my back quick. She hung a foot off the floorboard, her ankle the one thing keeping her pretty face from reaching the earth.

Now her dress was hiked and her panties in view.

"THIS IS NO BETTER!" Her fists beat against my calves as she whined. "PUT ME DOWN BEFORE SOMEONE SEES US IN THE WINDOW!"

So with grace, I swung her into a bridal carry.

And she swung an open palm against my cheek.

"I said down."

So with grace, I lowered her onto her feet.

Gouentine pressed the folds of her dress down and undid her French braid.

Holding the ribbon that secured her hair with her mouth, she spent another few minutes rebraiding her hair. It was impressive. I'd been used to seeing girls scrunchy their hair by themselves. Never braid.

Once the ribbon was out of her mouth, she started walking out of the room. "Let's go!"

I grabbed my coat and followed after her. Passing the room before the stairs, she said, "I'm off to the town, mother! Love you!"

"Be safe!" Came the shaky voice of some old lady.

Hearing that made me think of my parents again. The shouting. The lawyers. Never really being there when I needed them. I can't be there for them since I'm here.

Maybe this is supposed to be a punishment.

I shake my head and follow the sheep girl.

Outside, it was still sunny. The fence beside the cobblestone path leading to Gouentine's mansion was still dark with moisture, and puddles were everywhere. In the distance, another fence was around a forest extending into Gouentine's backyard. Behind the trees, gulls flew. Probably a little private beach back there.

It was pretty. Made me think, how did Gouentine get this place? And then I remembered hearing something about her father being knighted. Who said that again? I was still in the other room.

"So who was that fat fella with the horns and the round head?" I asked as we trundled towards town.

"That was the Cleric. His job is to determine who keeps angels, and the Mayor wanted the Cleric to say that he belonged to his Bailie, Charlie Boyse. Not me."

"Oh, so that ram back at the tavern was a bailie? What's that?"

"He's the Mayor's second-hand man, the living embodiment of disloyalty and anarchy. If you're laughing at my words, I have to inform you that the current position he retains was acquired by marrying his sister to the Mayor. "

Gouentine didn't just speak from anger but sadness. Her eyes stuck forward that squinting, annoyed look she had this morning and the last.

She was in deep thought, and it was definitely about that guy. Sheep. Bailie. Charlie.

Maybe there was something between them.

Maybe there was something between her and his sister that he married off.

Maybe all three were in some sick love triangle. But I wouldn't put it past this place. They eat cow shit.

Whatever the case, it wasn't my business.

I gave a whistle and rubbed the back of my head. "Jeezus, his sister? How the fuck did someone like him become that evil?"

"It's a story I'd like to forget."

We reached the dirt road on the outskirts of town, where the wooden buildings were. "Well, that's kind of hard when you're getting riled up about it…."

"Tsk." She walked faster than me. Again I have long legs, but the way her legs are bent, she can just casually be faster. I don't know; I'm not a biologist.

But I've been at the bar enough times to be an armchair psychologist.

"Listen, I know what it's like. But that bailie getting under your skin? It's only because you let him."

Silence. She stopped so she could turn down a road. The houses started having signs in front of them. The written language I still couldn't read. Weird. But the pictures were prominent. Blacksmiths had anvils. Restaurants had meat. Bars had mugs. And up ahead, there was a vast building with large glass windows in front with dresses and suits I'd seen watching Bridgerton.

Above the glass, a spool and a needle were painted on the wood.

The tailors.

I wasn't going to go in there with a pissed-off lady. You just don't go shopping with someone mad. You're inviting drama to be seen in public.

So I ran to stand in front of Gouentine. "You ever seen someone try to get under a cookie's skin?"

"Cookies skin? No. What. What are you saying?" She was confused. Which is great. This means she is listening.

I put my finger on her muzzle. "You're a tough cookie. Sweet on the inside. But you'll chip a tooth of anyone that tries to bite you. Act like it."

Also, I bet she'd melt when I put my tongue on her.

But I digress.

Gouentine lit up, now wearing a half-lidded smile. She sniffled and took a step forward. I braced for another hug.

And then she looked around. My eyes followed her.

On every porch. In every window. In the streets.

Sheep, all of the similar speckled brown fur like Guoentine's, and same victorian dresses and suits and worker's flat caps and bonnets. Some wore kilts, too, mostly the elderly. Disgruntled, dirty, poor, young and old, male and female.

All were staring at us.

We were in public.

Did they have public indecency laws here?

Gouentine immediately stepped around me and hurried to the tailor's door. "Come on!"

I beat feet and got inside the tailors. But, God, if looks could kill.

The tailor's shop interior was well lit, with the same purple lights outside. I felt like I was inside a haunted house. Every wooden muzzled dummy is a skeleton or mummy ready to jump at you.

And two did. A female and a male sheep, in suit and dress, stepped forward fast enough to make me cringe. I took a deep breath as they stared at me.

The male was a dwarf, his face definitely more goat shaped. More rat shaped. Big glasses and a pointy muzzle. Someone, I could say, "yeah, he definitely enjoys being paid to look at men and take measurements."

The female was Gouentines' height, but not her build. Muscular and also larger breasted, but the face was ugly. Lots of pink skin is visible through the fur. Splotches of black fur on top of the brown-like beauty marks. And some crooked teeth. On top of it all, her eyes were crossed.

Is Gouentine the prettiest ewe here?

Gouentine immediately walked towards the male. "Good morning Ruuri, Good morning Audur."

"Good morning Gouentine. Found yourself an Angel have you?" The male, apparently named Ruuri, walked around me, scratching his chin.

"Yes, I have," Gouentine said.

"I'm guessing he's going to need clothes?"

"You've guessed right."

"I'll do it for free so long as I get to keep his old ones."

Now that set me off. My clothes? Where do I keep my cigarettes then?

"I don't agree with that." I stuck my finger right in the rat's face. He stood his ground. Christ, these aren't like the four-legged bastards at home. These are stubborn as hell.

"Now, now, angel." Gouentine pushed down my arm and gave a smile to Ruuri. "Just write a bill for the Mayor. I'll sign it."

Ruuri nodded and snapped. Audur, the female, pulled out some paper and a stick.

And like that, Gouentine listed off a bunch of clothes. "Brown pantaloons, a linen shirt, white waistcoat, a black overcoat, a blue cravat, some wide trousers, a black sailors jacket, and another linen shirt. Do you mind doing the shoe measurements here and grabbing them?"

Audur had been writing everything down when she spoke. Her voice sounded like she had been smoking for decades. "It'll cost ya extra, but ya're on the mayor's dime, so why'a sure."

"Then I'll request a pair of black pumps and some wallon boots."

Pantaloons? Cravats? Not my style. But I've fought enough today. And I get to keep my old clothes.

My hand was nabbed by Ruuri, and I was led to the left side of the store. I realized then that the tailors were divided between male suits and women's dresses, and this was the male's side.

Pulling out a measuring tape, Ruuri requested that I take off my coat and stand behind the changing wall.

"I'll be right here, angel," Gouentine said, taking a seat in a random chair on the opposite side of the wall.

"Just raise your arms-"

"Yeah, I've been through this before."

It's a quick process. I've been taped and fitted so often that I don't even notice it. In fact, this might be the fastest clothes fitting function I've been through.

The first time I was a toddler, being fitted for Sunday school clothes. The lady working on me accidentally stabbed me with a pin, and I cried for hours. A new fear was born.

Then I was fitted for uniforms at a suit store before every new school. Six schools. By the time I was at the Maritime Academy, I wasn't just over that fear. I was over being fitted.

Standing in the corner. Arms up. A new linen shirt on. A new waistcoat on. And a new overcoat, recently pinned, was being worked on by Audur while Ruuri worked on my pants.

It was a boring hour.

So I look over the wall at Gouentine. That short little ewe was almost asleep in her chair.

"Hey, why does the mayor and the Cleric look different from you and the tailors?" I ask, causing her to jolt.

"Ah! Oh." The ewe blew air and leaned back in her chair. "They are not native to this island. They are Merno; we are Ronalsh."

"Alright." There was a new energy in the sheep's eyes.

Maybe she had a strong opinion of the island's history.

Maybe she just liked to hear herself talk.

The point is that the topic woke her up. It must be interesting. "What's the story behind that?"

Gouentine grabbed her hand, and with a crack of her hoof-tipped fingers and a stretch of her cloven legs, she began a story.

"Our town of Beth is on Big Suddrey island, West of Petterie Island. Once, all of the Petterie and Suddrey islands were under Ronalsh kings. To tax their land and to raise warriors, the king created the moars, tax collectors and leaders from among the families on his land. Then, to consolidate the taxes and direct the war parties, the king created the mormoar. Then from Norn came the Merno. With fire and sword, the Merno conquered. The Merno kings gave their friends the land that belonged to the Ronalsh crown. While The moars, mormoars, their families, and tenants left to form the clans. Anyone who stayed became slaves of the Merno barons. Then the Merno king created the Mayor to manage the land that belonged to the crown. And that's how it's been. The Mayor has his role not because he's good at collecting taxes but because he's Merno."

I'm in a racially segmented society ruled by a king populated by sheep.

Why am I here?

Ah, fuck it roll with the history.

"Wow. This world seems unjust."

"The twins give us these struggles to make us stronger," Gouentine replied, sighing. "The Merno say the twins granted them victory to rule over us, but I don't think so."

"What do you think?" Finally, Ruuri finished fitting the pantaloons and has me sit down while his partner/wife/monster put me on a new pair of boots.

"I think the twins made them kings because they're poor leaders. Poor leaders force better leaders to come about. And they will bring a better day for the Ronalsh." The little ewe was beaming with energy.

"Done." Said Ruuri, angling a mirror almost as tall to fit me.

Gouentine peaked around the corner. "By the twins! That is a handsome suit!"

Something was missing. Sure, I looked dapper. The cravat actually matched the pantaloons. The linen felt better than my wife's beater. But my head was lacking.

"Do you have a straw hat?" I asked.

Ruuri looked down for a minute and then snapped before disappearing. Then he reappeared with a pleasant straw flat cap with a black ribbon around its center.

Putting it on, I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled.

"Damn, I look good."