Chapter 8

"White Palace"

image [https://i.imgur.com/gcxKC1K.png]

The vast white desert stretched in every direction, a sprawling plain speckled with frozen mountains and cliffs. Amidst this desolate landscape, an imposing structure stood defiant against the icy winds. A gigantic fortress built with thick blocks of bluish ice and reinforced steel, its walls seemed to sprout directly from the snowy ground as if they were a natural extension of the frozen environment.

Gigantic spiky towers rose towards the overcast sky, crowned with sharp spires that reflected the scarce sunlight. From a distance, the fortress resembled a city of ice, with its multiple levels and interconnected structures linked by bridges and elevated walkways. At the base of the construction, a vast moat surrounded the outer walls, dug into the compacted snow and reinforced with rusted metal plates. The place was known as the White Palace.

Mr. Unknownman dismounted from his robotic companion, his boots sinking into the snow. He took the almost frozen bloodstained bag containing Erik's decapitated head and briefly scanned his surroundings before adjusting his mask and hood, further shielding his face from the icy blizzard and unwanted gazes. He advanced towards the main entrance of the fortress, a ramp excavated that descended towards a large reinforced metal gate. On both sides of the entrance, some armed guards stood watch, clad in thick layers of black cloth and metal plates to protect themselves from the extreme cold. Their faces were hidden behind metal masks with eye slits, and oval helmets.

Seeing the bounty hunter approach, the guards went on alert, gripping their weapons and blocking his path.

—Halt there, stranger!—shouted one of the guards, his voice distorted by the metallic mask. —Identify yourself and state your intentions —

Mr. Unknownman stopped a few meters away, his cold and expressionless gaze hidden behind his bandages.

—The people call me Mr. Unknownman, fools! I bring a gift for Borion Shacklaw!— he announced, raising the bloodstained bag.

The guards exchanged cautious looks, not lowering their weapons. One of them approached an intercom embedded in the wall next to the gate and pressed a button.

—Sir, there's an... unknown man at the entrance. He claims to bring a gift for you sir — he reported through the intercom.

There was a brief silence, interrupted only by the howl of the icy wind. Then, a deep, gravelly voice with authoritative resonance echoed from the device.

—Let him in...—

The other guard nodded and stepped aside, gesturing to his companions to open the gate. With a creaking metallic groan, the huge doors began to slowly open to the sides, revealing an interior darkness punctuated by the faint light of gas lamps.

Mr. Unknownman didn't hesitate, entering the palace interior while muttering insults under his breath at the guards for not recognizing him. The door panels closed behind him with a sordid thud. With slow steps, he ventured into the recesses of the fortress palace, his hand caressing the walls of the labyrinthine corridors and dimly lit rooms. Despite the intimidating exterior appearance where no one would dare to enter, the interior of the palace teemed with activity and life, a refuge and home for the toughest men and women of the white desert.

For years, the bounty hunter had been coming in and out of this place, being a regular temporary inhabitant. As he progressed, he crossed paths with other colleagues of his profession with whom he exchanged casual greetings, as well as guards and colorful characters who wandered through the interior of the white palace. Finally, he climbed up a staircase with dozens of steps, reaching a large triangular hall, its walls adorned with worn tapestries, gas lamps, and makeshift luxury decorations between air conditioning ducts. The place tried to convey a cozy yet intimidating atmosphere, attempting to hide that many sections of the palace were built with scrap and ice. The air was laden with the scent of bubbling drinks and alcohol, while laughter and loud conversations filled the space.

Several worn wooden tables were scattered throughout the hall, occupied by groups of people drinking and socializing loudly about trivial matters and various business deals. In the center of the room, a large round table dominated the scene, where a group of rough-looking men were gathered playing a card game called Summoners of Glory. An ancient game from the past, which had become very popular and escalated its use for economic bets, goods, and "services".

Among those men, stood out the imposing and repulsive figure of Borion Shacklaw. An older, morbidly obese man wearing an improvised gala suit made of different fabrics and a bowler hat tilted over his bald head. His enormous belly hung over the table, tearing the seams, covered in food stains and sweat. In order to participate in the game, Borion had two robotic arms connected to his stomach, allowing him to move cards, chips, and dice. The sight was disgusting, with rolls of fat and loose skin hanging around his deformed body next to piles of food and various items considered trophies and wealth. Two scantily clad women wandered around him, caressing his nipples and the folds of his disgustingly sweaty flesh full of pus-filled bags, while he completely ignored them, focused on his card game.

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Mr. Unknownman advanced towards the table with determination. A group of guards stationed nearby tried to stop him, but he effortlessly pushed them aside with a shove from his chest. When he reached the round table, he easily tossed the bloodstained bag onto the warm wooden surface. Erik's head emerged from it due to the blows, rolling gracefully until it slowly came to a stop on its side. His frozen face with a bluish hue and crystallized eyes stared penetratingly at Borion, while dark, coagulated blood spilled over the cards and game chips.

A tense silence fell over the hall. The players remained paralyzed, watching in horror at the grotesque scene. Even the scantily clad women recoiled on the large leather seat, covering their mouths with expressions of disgust.

Borion, unfazed, took a deep inhale from his cigar and exhaled a cloud of aromatic smoke. Then, with his robotic arms, he lifted the decapitated head by the hair and examined it closely, his narrowed eyes studying the frozen features.

—Well, well... The little rat Erik has finally shut up...— he muttered with a raspy voice. —He was always useless, a true rat. I should put it on the bar. It'll serve to intimidate other traitors who think they can mess with me and my business —

He dropped the head onto the table, while the woman in charge of the bar looked on from a distance with disgust at the thought of having such a head nearby. The head bounced and rolled until it stopped in front of Mr. Unknownman. The bounty hunter glanced at it with indifference.

—There's your rat, Borion — he said, his voice lacking enthusiasm yet teasing. —Now, I want my payment —

Borion let out a guttural laugh that made the folds of his deformed body tremble.

—Of course, dear friend, of course. Always fulfilling your assignments, eh, Mister Unknown Man?— He gestured to one of his lackeys, who hurried to hand him a metal box. —Here you go, as we agreed —

He tossed the box onto the table, spilling a generous pile of Recas and some Langdorp vouchers. Mr. Unknownman inspected the contents and stored them inside the cold box. He shook it, listening to the metallic clinking. A satisfied sound, he commented with a malicious smile.

—A pleasure doing business with you, great sir... as always — he said with a slight nod.

Without saying another word, he turned around and walked away coldly. But he couldn't take more than two steps before Borion erupted into a harsh and prolonged cough, provoked by the smoke of his cigar. After coughing loudly for a few seconds, he finally composed himself and spoke with a hoarse voice:

—Hey, Unknownman! —

The bounty hunter stopped and turned back towards the gaming table, nodding to indicate he was listening attentively. Borion took another deep puff from his cigar and exhaled slowly.

—I have... another little job, much juicier than that miserable box —

Mr. Unknownman raised an eyebrow behind his bandages, showing his interest.

—There's a guy... named Troy Hoff... runs a filthy brothel, a dive in the south, in the city of Caskaiha — Borion began to explain with a serious tone. —He's been months without paying his protection fee, and my patience has run out —

He paused, letting silence take over the table.

—I want you to kill him and bring me his head as proof — he ordered coldly. —And in return, I'll give you four times what's in that miserable box —

Mr. Unknownman remained motionless, his cold eyes fixed on Borion's sweaty and pockmarked face. Slowly, he approached the gaming table and leaned over it, resting his gloved hands next to the box on its surface. Borion, struggling to lean forward due to his obesity, tried to bring his face closer to the bounty hunter's. Then, with a malicious and conspiratorial voice, he whispered:

—If you bring him to me in pieces, after he's suffered for a while, I'll give you six times what I promised —

Mr. Unknownman held his gaze on Borion, studying his eyes sunken in fat. Finally, he extended his gloved hand towards the obese crime boss. Borion grinned wickedly and shook Unknownman's hand with one of his prosthetic robotic arms, sealing the deal with a firm grip.

—It’s a deal — growled Unknownman in a deep voice.

He straightened up once more and, without saying another word, turned around and left the hall, his overcoat billowing behind him. He walked out determinedly, carrying the box by his side through the large doors of the White Palace. Passing by the guards at the entrance, they attempted to greet him respectfully, but the bounty hunter simply muttered insults under his breath, murmuring about their incompetence as he climbed the ramp.

Once outside, the icy blizzard greeted him head-on, swirling the snow around him. He adjusted his clothing and advanced with heavy steps across the snowy expanse to where he had left his faithful robotic hound. The imposing quadruped machine remained patiently and immobile, its inert gaze fixed forward, its metallic structure covered in a fine layer of frost.

Unknownman extended a gloved hand and caressed the cold metal, sliding his fingers over the dents and scratches that marked the robot's hull. Then, with a nimble leap, he climbed onto the machine's back, sitting comfortably in his saddle position. He took a heavy, thick black blanket from a compartment and draped it over himself to shield from the icy weather, the temperature seeming to drop as dusk approached. Leaning forward, he whispered commands to the robot's control system, his hoarse voice barely perceptible beneath the howling wind.

—We must go, my friend. Next stop: Caskaiha! —

The robot's orange optics blinked a couple of times, and then the machine began to move slowly, crushing the snow under its imposing weight. Mr. Unknownman held on tightly, accustomed to the zigzagging movements. Gradually, they gained speed, distancing themselves from the White Palace and venturing into the vast frozen wasteland. The snow fell with increasing force, creating a white curtain that gradually made them disappear from view, blending with the desolate frozen landscape.

image [https://i.imgur.com/gcxKC1K.png]2024 © LJ Kauffmann