Extra 6: The Bounty

The door to the Gtririag office opened once again, the actions of a drunk fool letting in the cacophony outside, and worsening the growing headache Chray already possessed.

Even from across the room, he could smell the karshke on the Earliag’s breath, hear his deluded mumblings, even over the roar outside.

“Another new recruit”, the Keeper thought, “Even drunker on star-silvers power than alcohol”.

Chray retreated further into his corner, redoubling the focus put into polishing his blades.

Perhaps, in another life, stealth would have come more naturally to him, yet in this one, even hidden in the corner he stuck out like a flame in a sea of grass.

He always found it hard to tell if others could see you, when you yourself could not see them.

A deep sigh escaped him as the drunk’s footsteps turned his way, and the familiar feeling of being watched settled on his shoulders.

He knew of course it would happen, people always saw Chray as an easy target, no matter how many times he proved otherwise.

“I know you…”, the offender forced out in a drawl, his intentions far too clear.

Chray put their knives away, their curved edges slotting neatly into two sheaves on his belt, there was no point in dirtying them after they had just been polished.

“Why would they waste Andromio on someone who can't even see”, the drunkard spat, “Some rich bastard bribed an official for you, no doubt”.

Perhaps, the Keeper would have been offended, had he not heard this all before and knew that this was all just an excuse to take what the man really wanted.

Chray stood up, hand on his hatchet as the drunk drew his sword with a shriek, the stench of metal stinging his nose.

“There ain't no use in making this more difficult than it needs to be, let me take what I want, and I might not even kill you.”

Chray didn't react, expression hidden under a mask of stone as he drew his hatchet and activated his blessing.

It was as if a new eye blossomed within their mind, as the path taken by the man before him, past, present and future, became highlighted in brilliant orange.

When he had first received it, turning it on was a disorienting experience that had left him with a headache for days, and even now it was likely the source of his constant migraines.

Yet the Keeper had become so accustomed to the sixth sense that it felt stranger to be without its constant presence.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Chray didn't wait for his opponent to strike first, he would be a fool too when cold-hearted murder was such a light offence, instead, he dashed forward toward his unprepared opponent, far too close for the drunkard’s longsword to be useful.

The amateur reacted in the only way he could think to, trying to step back while wielding his blade one-handed in an attempt to half-stab half-strike Chray’s back.

The attempt was doomed from the start, the older Keeper not even needing his blessing to predict the lacklustre resistance.

The blunt end of the hatchet smashed into the drunkard's elbow, cracking bone and forcing the blade from his grasp, all the while an eyeless mask of stone crushed his nose in a devastating headbutt.

With a grunt of pain, Chray’s opponent flung a reflexive punch while stumbling back, a punch that was quickly caught by superior strength, having long been foreseen in orange prophecy.

Unwilling to give any time for recovery, the Gtririag finished the fight with his hatchet, slamming the one-handed weapon straight into his opponent's skull.

With a single quick jerk, he was dead.

Chray took a moment to calm himself, checking for further enemies all the while before kneeling on the dark tile floor, making sure not to let any blood stain his clothes.

If he had been able to see, locating and removing the star-silver from the man’s body would have been a simple, if brutal operation, yet he was not so lucky and had to locate the metal by feel alone.

Luckily, it didn't take long to find the cold Andromio on the still-warm cadaver, the drunk, predictably having used his meagre allowance on his biceps and hands, apparently believing brute force was the only way to gain power.

Chray was a living testament to the falsity of that belief.

Even with feeling alone, it took little time to pry out the precious scraps of metal, having taken the last of it as the door behind the reception desk opened.

“It's an eight wahrlio cleaning fee, and I expect you to pay it.” the receptionist, a stern woman with long grey hair and a mask of stone over her face, said.

Before Chray even had a chance to reply, she continued, “And no, I don't care that he started it, you have to pay all the same.”

The Keeper stood up and walked over to the receptionist, having the good sense not to protest and hand over the sum, he had learned the hard way that there was little point in arguing with the woman.

The moment the coins changed hands, Chray moved to return to his table in the corner of the room, wanting to both quench the pain of losing money as well as clean his hatchet of the still-wet gore.

This plan, however, was foiled when the desk manager called for him to stop.

“There's a new bounty that's just come through from the Earliag, and the council thinks you might be the only one around who can do it in a timely manner”.

The Keeper stopped and walked back to the front desk, deciding to clean his weapon while he received the briefing, despite the receptionist’s disapproval.

“It's a bit of a strange one, but hardly the strangest you have ever dealt with”, the woman began, “There have been reports of someone dressed like a Golem stealing from and terrorising random civilians”.

Chray shook his head, “And why am I, specifically, needed for this, surely some fool dressed like a death machine can't be too hard to find.”

“That's the catch, whoever this person is, if they are even a person, they haven't stopped moving and if their speed is anything to go by, haven't stopped to sleep either.”

“So you need someone quick to track them down then, and how do you suppose I find their trail?”

The receptionist let out a scoff, “You're the tracker, that's your job.”

Shaking her head, she bent down and took out a poster from the bottom of the desk, and handed it to the Keeper, “Everything else you need to know is on here.”

Chray snatched the paper from her hand, before stalking toward the door, figuring their business was done and more than ready to sneak off into the crowd.

“And Chray, the council is really concerned about this one, I don't know why, so try to get this done before they are forced to make it a public bounty”

The Gtririag nodded once, projecting surety through their eyeless mask as they walked into the roaring crowds, ready to take on their newest bounty.