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“I’m not a Roleplayer.” Artem tried to explain. “I’m a Ma-”
He stopped before saying ‘Mage’. What if mages were hunted in this world?
“A man.” He finished lamely.
“Wit as sharp as a rapier. Should have retired to be a court jester instead of Librarian.” Artem thought to himself.
“Look man, if you want to roleplay, go to a braindive bar.” The woman crossed her arms. “They’ll have plenty of ‘ales’,” She held up each hand and stuck out two fingers in the air, folding them and unfolding them twice. “Though I doubt they taste like the real thing.”
Artem studied the two silently. The woman spoke in a staccato-like rhythm, too fast for him to catch everything she had said. But he knew enough to know that she was trying to get rid of him.
“I'm looking for a job.” He finally said.
Artemvian had been trying to scope out the place first and find out how much the doily card was actually worth by drinking some ale. Depending on how much it cost, he could have a rough idea of the economic situation in Nero City. Which could have helped him check to see if he was being fleeced or not.
What kind of place didn’t have Ale?
The woman frowned. “Who told you about this place?”
“A bandit.” Artem answered honestly.
Brant started to laugh then immediately transformed it into a series of coughing. He looked sheepishly at the woman, explaining.
“Sorry boss. That was just… so out of pocket.”
“So you’re the one in charge.” Artemvian held out a hand. “Artemvian Moneti Delacreu.”
She looked down at his hand like looking at a bug; reminding Artem of the time he proposed to the fifth princess of Shah.
“...Riley.” She finally answered and then continued. “That’s your real name? Really?”
Artemvium nodded.
“Fine. Where are you from?”
“A different world.”
This time Brant did laugh and made no effort to stop it.
“If you don’t start answering me seriously, I can’t give you a job. Yes, I’m a broker but I’ve just met you. I can’t just send you out on a job for a client without knowing anything about you. My reputation is on the line too.”
Artemvium sighed, scratching his nose. He took off the sunglasses and placed them on the bar, contemplating. He had answered truthfully but it was obvious no one would believe him. Normally he would have prepared fake answers ahead of time but just in case that someone did know what had happened to him, he had answered honestly. It seemed that Lady Luck wasn’t smiling upon him… if she was here in this place at all.
“Let’s just say that’s my real name. As for where I am from, that’s not something I can answer. Is that a problem? I’m fine with doing a simple job to earn your trust first.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Riley studied him and Artem studied her back.
Through the years, Artem had grown used to people measuring him up. For many reasons. To see if they could use him in court intrigue, to see if he was a man of his word and to see if he was truly as strong as the rumors –legends at this point– really claimed. In return, he had also developed his own eye for reading people. Perhaps it wasn’t rooted in Science or the Arcane Arts but there was a saying: Never underestimate a Magus’ instincts.
And Artemvian had good instincts.
After all, being able to determine whether you could trust someone –and how much you could trust them– at first sight was a skill that kept him alive on more than one account.
“Fine.” Riley sighed. “Not like there are any customers today anyways. I’ll play ball. But you fail this job and I want your word that you never set foot in this bar ever again? Understood?”
“No foot in this bar. Understood.” To make a point, he lifted both his feet off the floor, putting them on the stool’s footrest.
Juvenile, yes. Worth the exasperated look on her beautiful face? Also yes.
Brant smiled at Artem. It was nice to know that someone appreciated his humor.
Riley snorted. “Brant, bring me the bounties folder.”
Brant walked inside and came back out, holding a folder. He passed them over to Riley who opened it and after shuffling through it, passed Artem a photo.
“A John Doe. All we know about him is the fact that he used to be part of the wanna-be CyberFreaks crowd. He’s suspected of a dozen kidnappings over the last year, always women or children. So far, three bounty hunters went after him and all came back. Two of them never even found the guy, the other got close but got spooked and decided to bail.” She put her hands on the bar, looking down at Artemvian.
Artemvian studied the photo.
“Unless you’re confident in your skills, I suggest-”
“How long has he been a Werewolf?” Artemvian asked.
Brant and Riley looked at each other.
“Are you for real?” Riley put a hand on her hip.
Artem ignored her and continued. “You said a dozen kidnappings? All woman and children? When? I bet once a month and always around the full moon.”
Scowling, Riley tapped on the magical object again. Artemvium waited, studying the photo.
Brant brought out a glass of water. “You said werewolf? What makes you say that?”
“Look, here.” Artem put a finger on the photo, right on the man’s neck. “Semi-circular scarring and even from this painting, you can tell it was a bite mark. Plus his eyes are bloodshot… lack of sleep. His clothes are frayed at the sleeves, likely from dragging it across the ground after transforming.”
“Then there are the scratch marks all over his chest. I bet if he took the tunic, –sorry, shirt– off you could see more scarring, reminiscent of claws.” Artemvian shook his head. “A lycanthrope wouldn’t have much of his clothing left after transforming. Most of them lose themselves to the Beast Rage. Not a Hexenwolf because he’s only hunting once a month and still has his clothes. But even without all that, the bite mark is too telling.”
There was a moment of silence as Brant tried to digest the information.
“You’re right.” Riley muttered. “He’s been doing his kidnappings once a month. So what, this guy is cosplaying as a werewolf from a B-rated horror film? Some kind of new freakshow? You’re saying he’s on drugs? Genetic engineering?”
Artemvian had no idea what she was talking about.
“Someone must’ve turned him but didn’t stick around to guide him. Teach him how to curb his hunger or induct him into the Pack Society. A mongrel then.” Artemvian explained, then asked, “Where was he last seen?”
“The Southern part of town.” Brant answered immediately.
Artemvian stood up, taking the photo with him. “Do you have anything that belonged to him? Or one of the victims?”
“Nothing. Only the police would have something like that.” Riley gave up on trying to understand what Artemvian was talking about.
Artemvian looked into Riley’s eyes.
He’d spooked her.
It was evident that she’d given this job to him, expecting him to back out or fail at it at the very least. But he could tell that the things he’d said spooked her and what spooked him in return was that she was unsure. Both her and Brant held incredulous expressions on their faces, like they didn’t know whether he was crazy or telling the truth. Everything he’d said about Werewolves, Spells and whatnot had flown past their understanding.
It was entirely possible that this world didn’t have magic or atleast the likes of magic that he was used to.
Whether that was a good thing or bad thing, that remained to be seen. “Ok. Dead or alive?”
“Either. 5000 doilies for an intact corpse, 3000 doilies for proof of death. 10,000 doilies if captured alive.” Riley answered, relaxing once Artemvian was talking about something she understood again. “Jonnsen posted the bounty. The pharmaceutical, I mean. They’ll be good for it.”
“Ah, got it.” Artemvian turned around leaving the bar, then paused at the door. He looked at the two over his shoulder, a sly grin on his face. “How much for a glass of Wine?”
“10 doilies.” Riley muttered. “I thought you wanted Ale?”
“Ah, yes. I changed my mind.” Artem walked out into the rain.
Riley stared after him, making up her mind. “Brant?”
“Oh no. Boss, I really don’t want to-”
“He obviously has no idea what the southern end of town is or he wouldn’t be so cheerful. I’m also curious about what he is. I didn’t see any tech on him, so he’s not one of the Cybers..”
“Maybe a Talent? You know how they’ve been popping up. Boss, I think he could be just crazy or high on some weird new street drug.”
“Tail him and find out what he is.” Riley cut Brant off, tapping her fingers on the bar “I think he’s crazy too but my instincts are telling me something else.”
“That we might have hooked a whale.”
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