His first route had been to the Merchant’s District, only, his plan for going there now looked to be ending in something akin to failure.

The door of the pawnshop which had been halfway open to seductively lure customers in the last time he had been here, seemingly had no need for such a tactic today. There was a long line spread out from it and a rumbling noise erupting from within the shop.

Elmer weaved his way through the crowd outside, making his way to the side of the shop to take a glimpse of its interior through its dusty display window. And if he’d had any sort of minuscule reason to doubt the booming success of the pawn business today, now he had none anymore.

There had been a hole in his plan and it had now cost him twenty pence.

Elmer rubbed the back of his neck. He should have taken into account the day of the week it was if he was going to come to a pawnshop.

Saturday was not a day he should have thought to be looking for a pawnbroker for his own personal issues. Even if he plowed his way through the pack of people out here and in there, he would not still be able to get Lev to spare him a bit of his time.

If he was the one in there, he wouldn’t give himself time either; after all, even a little moment taken off from the job was money lost.

Elmer sighed, turning away from the sight of the pawnshop, and shuffling past the cluster of peasants and gentlemen and ladies alike, all which were noisily hoping to redeem their items as quickly as possible in preparation for Sunday.

As he exited the ginnel while raking through his brain for what else he could do to find the answer to the question his landlord had willingly or unwillingly denied him, a thought suddenly slithered into his head.

There was one more place he could try.

…

Elmer nudged his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose as he dropped from the public carriage, his heart aching at the actuality that he had just spent another twenty pence.

There was only a few over thirty mints now from the money he had received from Patsy and those he had saved up, but it was all for the greater good, he told himself, and that did well to reduce his ache.

As the honks of the steam cars prowling the street of the Foreign District whooshed past his ears, he saw the road free up for a moment, and he took that opportunity to cross to the other side, putting himself for the second time today before the Orb of Fate pub.

Elmer was about to pull the door when it instead pushed open from within, and out came a tall gaunt faced man with a thick mustache.

He was dressed in a black trench coat and had a half top-hat seated on his head; also in his hand was a paper bag he held well close to his chest. Elmer bowed and watched the man pass first before he took himself in.

“You again?” The voice of the youthful barman rushed into his ears before the door had even shut completely.

“Me again,” Elmer answered as he approached the bar area.

The curtains of the windows were open, and the pub would have been completely empty if not for his presence and the barman’s, and that made it have a different contrast than when he had been here on the yester and earlier this morning.

He was not complaining though, he liked the quiet.

The barman dropped the glass cup he was done cleaning and picked up another, plunging the small towel in his hand into it as he deftly rolled it about with expert-like finger work.

“You know the way down,” the barman said before looking up at the clock nailed to the wall above his head. “You were here by five and now you’re here by ten. At this rate you might even frequent us more than our best customers without buying a single drink.” He let out a sigh as he picked up another cup.

“I’m not here for that,” Elmer told the barman.

He had considered the option of heading to the Black Market as their folks would obviously have knowledge on if an establishment for bounty hunters existed. But how was he to go about it? Just move around asking random people? Who knew what sort of information might slip from him as a cause.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Well, he won’t have any options left if the barman knew nothing about it.

Elmer pushed himself up onto a stool. He was glad no one else was around, he would not need to sugarcoat his words to avoid them flying into the ears of others. “And I’ll buy a drink,” he added.

A cheap one…

The barman stopped his cleaning. “We aren’t open yet.”

You’re the one who said I’ve never bought a drink… Elmer tsked to himself. There was no need for one then.

“What are you here for?” the barman asked as he arranged the cups on a tray and went ahead to fill them into their shelves, the ponytail of his pitch black hair dancing just below his neck.

“I have a question.” Elmer placed his arms to rest on the bar top as his eyes momentarily glanced about the assortment of drinks stacked in the shelves. He suddenly found out he was thirsty. Maybe he would need that drink after all. “Can I have a drink, at least? Surely, you must be able to serve a customer when they request a drink even though you aren’t open.”

The barman looked over his shoulder at Elmer for a moment before asking, “What drink do you want?”

“What drink is the cheapest?”

The barman wheezed a laugh, then he turned around and slid a cup at Elmer. “Beer or punch?” he asked.

Elmer had never tasted any of the two, but it was the latter that grabbed his attention the most. “What’s a punch?”

The barman had already gone ahead to scan through the drinks on the bar shelves when Elmer voiced his question, and that caused him to cease his movements.

“You don’t know what a punch is?” the barman asked, somehow sounding disappointed as his eyes once again flayed at Elmer from over his shoulder. He sighed when Elmer gave him no reply and grabbed a bottle with a dark golden liquid swirling within it. “This is a regent’s punch,” he said as he poured the drink halfway into Elmer’s cup. “A drink exotically made from lemon and orange fruits mixed with rum.”

Elmer glanced into the exotic drink before him. “This is cheap?” he asked, a bit skeptical.

“This is cheap,” the barman answered, dropping the bottle and gripping the edge of the bar top as he leaned on it. “At least for this pub,” he added.

Elmer took his eyes to the smooth face of the perm haired man before him. “How much is it?”

“Twenty pence per serve,” he said.

It was the same as the cost of a ride here. Elmer was no longer sure if he should be calming his thirst with this.

“Do you serve water?”

The barman pointed at the drink. “This is the water of a pub. Sparkling and clean, and mixed with fruits and a bit of alcohol.”

Elmer hesitated for a moment, but his parched throat caused him to finally give in with a sigh, prompting him to defeatedly dig out a mint note from his waist bag and push it to the barman as the amount of pence he had left was not enough.

“So,” the barman started after taking the note from Elmer’s gaze and walking to the cash register situated near the bar shelves. “What’s the question you wanted to ask?”

Elmer took hold of the glass cup and poured the exotic drink into his mouth. It had a sweet and tangy flavor like none Elmer had tasted before, and the lingering warmth about his throat as the light drink passed through it left him with something of a pleasant and refreshing sensation.

The somewhat reinvigorating feeling that suddenly washed over his body made him want to ask for more, but as his change of one shilling and thirty-five pence was slipped back to him, he quickly shoved them into his bag while casting away the temptation.

Now he knew why people spent so much on alcohol.

“A place where bounty hunters gather,” Elmer said to the barman. “Do you know where that is?”

The barman sucked in air through his teeth. “A place where bounty hunters gather, huh?” Elmer leaned in closer with creasing eyebrows as the man’s eyes wandered for a moment. “Ah,” the barman snapped his fingers. “I’m not really sure, but I’ve heard the discussions of a few people who have claimed to be bounty hunters. I think they mentioned a bureau or something of the sort. Ah, yes. The Glowing Eye bureau.”

“The Glowing Eye bureau?” Elmer directed the question at himself to make sure he had heard correctly, but the barman nodded nonetheless; after which he took Elmer’s empty cup and went ahead to wipe it clean. “Where can I find this bureau?” Elmer’s voice suddenly had a spike in tone.

“I don’t know,” the barman answered as he shoved Elmer’s used cup in its place. “I’ve not gone there to place a job offer before, and I hope I won’t have to. It’s probably somewhere around here in the Foreign District.”

“But where exactly? That’s what I want to know.” Elmer scowled as he crossed his arms.

The barman turned to him with downturned lips and a raised eyebrow. “Take a carriage or something, it’s not like it’s a secret organization.”

A carriage…? Elmer’s scowl loosened. Was it really that easy…?

He had reasoned that the Ascenders and bounty hunters thought the way he did, but now he saw clearly. His reason for trying to keep his status a secret was because of his crest, why would actual Ascenders of the Time Pathway need to do all that?

Elmer jumped down from the stool at once. “Thank you,” he told the barman as he hurried out of the pub.