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Lear ‘Razor’ Hik
‘Captain’
‘Butcher of Drek River’
‘Man from Atetalerso’
Some guy in Badum
Part I
-Welcome aboard-
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image [https://i.postimg.cc/ZKr1KSfW/Badum-Irde.jpg]
7th of Tertius 194
Aldenfort, Kingdom of Regia
The chair creaked when Lear pushed back to steer it away from the tavern’s square table. A sharp sound that cut through the noise of the crammed with morning dwellers venue. Mostly fishermen that had returned from their shift. Their job starting even earlier than the big lake’s castle’s residents normal routine.
A town and a castle.
As tightly packed a settlement as one could find.
Lear had seen and heard the likes a thousand times in the past. Mayhap fewer than that, but not by much. The sound gave him pause, left hand bringing the scabbard to rest on his spread out knees as he’d turned to watch the tavern’s open door. A tavern wench standing in his eyes’ way, a pale shoulder left bare giving the customers a glance at the side of her swelling breasts.
Some spectacles much more pleasant to the eyes than others.
“That venison steak tasted funny,” Edge griped sitting across from him, both hands clasping at a tall bronze cup of local beer. A blend of sorts. “Too much fucking garlic to cover up the foulness.”
“A conspiracy?” Lear rustled a half-hearted taunt, tongue toughing the rough insides of his mouth where that arrow head had ripped through, two molars missing and the internal stitches still tugging at his lower jaw. A phantom pain. A reminder of the brutal job to fix it that had left him voiceless for twenty one months.
Perhaps for the better.
“Hey, Cunobarus!” Edge yelled at the tavern owner, the Lorian glaring at the aged warrior. Edge cast a side-glance at Lear who was observing the crowd and grimaced. “When ye learn of a man named ‘cunt’ something ye better be on the alert.”
Cuno was the old Lorian word for female genitalia.
“Just call me Servius mister Edge!” Cunobarus protested civilly and wiped his hands with a towel, he then tossed on the counter.
“How is that any better?” A sour-faced Edge retorted shaking his grey head. “Poor-serving cunt. Fucking given me another ulcer fer pity’s sake!”
“Have some warm milk old-timer!” Someone yelled from another table.
“How about ye shut the fuck up, chubby trawl for a face!” Edge barked back.
“Calm down now gramps. Yer the one looking a bit too red there hah-hah!”
“I’m not switching venues,” Lear warned his scowling friend. “Nor walking out of decent shade for no reason,” he added, his eyes on a young man wearing a leather vest that had chainmail woven under it and one left sleeve made out of thick fabric. Expensive as allhells to make. A large heavy crossbow on his back, protruding over his right shoulder and two large leather straps crossing his chest. The left side carrying a small compact wooden quiver that held six bolts at the most. The Issir, though he seemed to have a bit of Lorian in him, brushed his brownish hair back and looked about the packed tavern.
Looking for something.
Lear moved forward on the chair that creaking returning and the young man marched deeper into the tavern. He was heading for the counter and Servius ‘Cunobarus’ who seemed as suspicious of the newcomer as well.
“Do you have a board for bounties?” The young man asked Servius and he waved him away.
“Outside,” the tavern owner told him. “Right side of the wall as you enter. If it’s full just nail yours over an old one. See you don’t get caught doing it.”
“Can I bother—?”
“Didn’t I just answer? What is this? A plaguing information desk? I run a tavern.” Servius retorted gruffly. “You want to order something perchance?”
“No thank you. It’s too early for me. But I want to learn—”
“Closest school is in Asturia lad. Follow the big road by the lake,” a patron interrupted him with a leer. “You start now, you’ll be there in a week.”
The young man pursed his mouth frustrated. Got to make them fear you kid, Lear thought rubbing at the back of his sweaty neck. You’re too blasted polite.
A good thing.
But not always useful. Or as quick to bring results.
The young man sighed and walked out, a tavern wench giving him a once over as he walked past her and a smack on his bottom. It made him squirm and turn around but there were a lot of solemn faces glaring his way and so the flushed newcomer decided against taking offense.
“Tides brought him over amidst the dead fish,” a patron commented with a chuckle and his friends agreed. “Lots of them darkies are creeping about lately but Lucius will fix that.”
“Want to check on the board?” Lear asked the contemplating in silence Edge and the aged bounty hunter –twice retired according to him- ex-mercenary –also sort of retired- raised his eyes from the goblet’s surface. “Reckon yer not finding anything else in the cup despite all this lustful gazing.”
“My knee is killing me,” Edge griped pursing his mouth. “I ain’t standing up. Don’t think I can.”
Lear slapped the table once and pushed himself up. It wasn’t that easy, the muscles locked after the winter and too much traveling on a blasted saddle. A long sea journey afore that. The world much the same as he remembered it with a couple of touches of mystique.
Just for Luthos’ giggles.
At least you met a couple of new people.
Half of them already dead not two years later.
Eh.
“Well, I did.” Lear rustled. “It’s a good day to cover some ground. We can be in Tenor afore the sunset.”
“Bullshit we can. We need supplies anyway.”
“I got some coin from the Bank,” Lear explained.
“How much?”
“Nineteen pieces,” Lear replied looking at the open door. Customers entering or exiting. The early morning group leaving and the late morning group arriving.
“The darn bank run out of gold?” Edge snorted and groaned through clenched teeth, both fists planted on the creaking table to help him stand.
“Lucius cleaned them out to pay the troops,” Lear replied. Regia was in her third King within five years. “A rumor I heard. The clerks wouldn’t say anything.”
They would but Lear was too tired to get it out of them the hard way.
“Told them who you are?”
Lear looked in his old friend’s face solemnly. “It would have made no difference. We’re retired Edge.”
“Yeah, I just don’t feel it that last part. Retired people find a home and settle down. Grow a garden and build a cellar. Buy a cow and watch her munching on grass under the shade.”
“You want to buy a cow?”
“I’m too sentimental to own an animal ye fucking know that. Plus you’ve used this shite a couple of times already so it ain’t working…”
Lear shook his head and walked towards the door not bothering to listen to the rest of it. He already knew what Edge was going to say.
Edge who followed after him with an acrid groan said it anyway.
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The young man was putting up several ‘wanted’ posts on the board over the old ones. Some quite old like the one for ‘Plunderer’ Wilt who was dead since eighty six, others covered with painted cocks or big-titted wenches and lewd messages. Lear squinted his eyes to read the text under the drawing of a man wearing a fancy doublet whilst Edge watched the locals walking the narrow streets of Aldenfort, a sour expression on his wrinkled face.
Feeling their presence the man turned around holding some of the posters in a small stack.
“Can I be of help gentlemen?”
“Doubtful,” Edge retorted eyeing him. A sober Lear reached with a hand and took one of the posters from the stack. He examined it quickly, more interested in the text than the painted portrait. The chance of getting a good enough likeness pretty low most of the times.
But not always.
“Hey,” the young man protested mildly.
“How much? There’s no sum here,” Lear asked raising his eyes.
“No… there is. It says a couple of century’s worth of gold? It’s an expression.”
In the army.
“Hah,” Edge snorted and smacked his lips. Lear raised his right arm, fingers clenched in a gloved fist which made the young man recoil a bit, but the veteran unfurled the index finger and used it to scratch the side of his nose in silence.
“Listen,” the man told them nervously. “This is a job for skillful individuals—”
Lear stopped him. “Who posts the fee?”
“Mister Tarsus. Says it right at the bottom. It’s in small letters—”
Lear cut him off again. “I can read just fine. The name means nothing. Who’s the guarantor?”
“Mister Severus,” the man blurted out. Lear raised a greying brow. “Director Ramirus’ office. LID officer of the Third Legion.”
“The Legion?”
“Aye. He has a decree from the King.”
Lear pursed his mouth. “What does pending and per means?”
Two hundred gold pieces was a large enough sum to get a lot of people off their arses for sure, but details in the script always mattered. The small letters.
“This is a large job… as I said—”
“What’s yer name lad?” Edge asked cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Yol Borin.”
“You all boring?” A perturbed Edge asked stooping forward.
“Yol...” mister Borin retorted a little frustrated. “It’s a place.”
A half-breed bastard of means.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“The northernmost edge of King’s Forest in Lesia,” Lear added looking at him. “What was an Issir doing there?”
“My father worked with James Merck in Atetalerso,” Yol explained.
Edge glanced at Lear surprised.
“Marion’s father. A distant cousin to Miss Black Gold.”
Lady Diana Merck. Her husband Claus Viceroy was president of the Board in the Bank of Trust.
“You know Lady Calcote?” Yol asked looking surprised himself.
“Is the bank involved in this?” Lear asked not answering. “Agent Keird Calcote is her husband.”
“He’s director of the main branch in Cediorum now.”
Hmm. Keird climbed up the ladder.
“What happened to Robart Holt?” Edge asked.
“He retired,” Yol replied. “How do you know Keird Calcote?”
Lear grimaced. “Worked with him.”
“You worked for the Bank?” Yol stood back and examined his face. “I came here to get the job soon as I heard about it. Make a name for myself.”
“That the same job needing skillful folk not to fuck it up?” Edge queried just to be sure they were on the same page. “Haven’t you heard of ‘start small and work your way up’ son?”
“What did Marc Laudus do?” Lear asked not bothering with the lad’s ambitions.
“He’s implicated in the murder of King Jeremy,” Yol replied. “I’m looking to gather a team to find him and his associates then bring them to justice.”
Lear snorted with Edge outright releasing a loud chortle unable to keep it in.
The pending part of the deal. Dead or alive came with incentives for the latter.
Why would the Bank care though?
“Tarsus turned you down,” he told Yol. “Couldn’t the Bank spare more… people?”
“It’s a busy time,” Yol Borin retorted sounding miffed.
And also lying. More people were dispatched. Yol was out here by himself though.
In that he was telling the truth earlier.
Hmm.
“How many are we looking for here?” Lear asked. “I assume the ‘per’ is for that.”
That increased the fee significantly.
“At least four. As many as twelve. We’ll need twice that number to find them,” Yol said. “Can you guys handle a long search?”
“Lots of mistakes in yer thinking,” Edge grunted crossing both arms on his chest.
“Didn’t mean to offend.”
“You’ll have to,” Lear rustled. “In this line of work.”
“Right. And you are?” Yol asked.
“I’m Mister Lear and this is Mister Edge,” Lear replied adding soberly. “You’ll never find them with a big ole posse Yol. They’ll see and hear you come from a mile away then scatter if they haven’t done so already.”
“Probably had everything arranged beforehand,” Edge murmured with a grimace and Lear nodded.
“Plans get all messed up in the heat of the moment or change. Timeline moves up and fucks you up even more,” he elucidated.
“Ayup,” Edge agreed and glanced at the silent, a tad panicky Yol. “You alright there young buck?”
“Razor Hik?” Yol croaked and glanced at Edge afore looking about them in alarm. “And the ‘Head-hunters’ of Yepehir?”
Just the two of us left son.
“That sounds slightly offensive,” Edge retorted. “Right Captain?”
Lear folded the poster in two and slotted it inside his coat. “Tarsus is nearby?” He asked Yol thoughtfully.
“Oh, fer crying out loud,” Edge protested reading his friend’s mind. “Seriously?”
“I’m coming with you,” Yol said quickly and Edge looked his way even more bewildered.
“Can you use that crossbow?” Lear asked.
“I’m a skilled marksman.”
“Ever shot a man in the face?” Edge asked with a chuckle.
“No. But I trained with Desmond Boss in Castalor,” Yol replied with a frown.
“Marion footed the bill?” Lear probed while Edge rolled his eyes mockingly at the lad’s reply.
“Aye. We’re family friends.”
“Can you use a blade?” Lear probed with a glance at the grimacing in despair Edge. The old bounty hunter went through a whole range of face contortions to get his point across to Lear. “We need a third guy,” Lear argued.
“Uh? No we don’t. Matter of fact, weren’t we talking about retiring just now?” His friend griped.
“You did. I’ve some work still left to do and need coin to fund the operation,” Lear reminded him.
That itch had returned.
“What operation? We’re the last of the darn gang still breathing! And now you want to investigate the plaguing Church? I thought you were kidding!”
Lear set his jaw stubbornly. He’d made up his mind in Eikenport.
“You’re gonna have us all killed!” Edge blasted him. “Should have just left me bleed out then. I can’t go through this shite again!”
“I don’t need a blade,” Yol protested interrupting their back and forth. “I can shoot a bolt in less than two minutes—”
Edge had gotten his dagger out abruptly and pressed the sharp tip of it on Yol’s belly stopping him short of finishing.
“Now lad, you could go for that crossbow,” Lear rustled soberly. “Or you can jump away. Either way yer getting stabbed. The mail might stop it but it will hurt just the same. Now at the end of that backwards jump, Edge will come at you again with that dagger. Since it’ll take him seconds to reach you everything I just said would repeat itself.”
Yol gulped down nervously.
“Walk away kid,” Edge counseled him sadly. “You don’t want that life. Find a girl, buy a cow.”
“I’ll take the opening if there is one,” Yol decided disregarding Edge’s advice and completely changing his earlier assessment about the old pair of bounty hunters. “And I can learn to use a blade properly if that’s what it takes.”
Fame will open doors for you, Lear thought just as a sad-faced Edge sheathed the dagger and stepped away from Yol Borin. Make it easier for you to reach an objective or just swiftly kill you in the blasted process.
Infamy did the same thing.
“Mark,” Lear rustled looking at the youthful face of the new member of their team. “Welcome aboard.”
“Who’s Mark?” Yol asked a little perturbed and ‘Edge’ rolled his eyes in exasperation.
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13th of Tertius 194 NC
Outside the East Gates of Tigerfall Castle
Two kilometers from the bridge over Wayford River and the road to the City of Badum.
Lear watched the soldiers patrolling the road thoughtfully. Groups of ten heading for the bridge. The breeze coming from the nearby Canlita Sea soothing on his back but the strong sun penetrating his drenched heavy coat. Lear needed a bath, but he could cool himself up in the river. He reached for a flask of water and poured some in his mouth. Lear spat it down, then poured some more directly on his face to wash away some of the dirt, a hand patting the horse’s mane comfortingly.
“First Foot?” Edge asked bringing his own mount next to his, a couple of soldiers looking their way as they marched.
Lear nodded.
“Why isn’t the Duke sending them towards the capital?”
“Thinks it’s a lost cause I reckon,” Lear grunted.
Other stuff might be in play here also.
“Stop for the night?”
“They might have people watching the inns,” Lear rustled and glanced at the young man bringing up their two mules. “Give word of our likes to the interested parties.”
“They wouldn’t risk for anyone to know their whereabouts,” Edge noted.
“Hmm.”
They might have set up a system in advance.
But Edge was right. This is too close to Regia to feel safe.
“We’ll camp near the bridge,” Lear decided and Edge grimaced in protest.
“My back could use a plaguing bed Captain.”
“Put two blankets down,” Lear grunted and turned his horse around.
“Fuck’s sake,” Edge cursed to his back. “Why head east in the first place? If they just headed straight north they could have reached Riverdor in a week.”
Then what? Ride straight into a warzone?
Laudus would have known all that.
Lear pulled at the reins and turned on the saddle to look at his weathered face.
“Lorians in an Issir city have the same problems Mark had back in Aldenfort,” Lear said. “They stand out.”
“Every city around here is teeming with Issirs Lear,” Edge retorted. “Want to rethink that? Mayhap over a good meal and a goblet of beer? Haven’t gazed at a good pair of Issir tits in a while. I’m having a craving.”
“You hate beer and you wouldn’t do that to Rita.”
“I don’t mind good beer and me Rita is dead for years now so you can fuck right off.”
“I shouldn’t have brought her up old bones,” Lear said regretfully.
“Don’t give me this weak shit. Hate not hearing a proper reply more Captain,” Edge spat frustrated.
“What’s the matter?” Mark asked missing a lot of old history. Decades of it. “Are we going in or not?”
Lear grimaced. “You have that fancy map lad?” He asked. Yol ‘Mark’ for marksman Borin carried one in his bags. The young man traveling with a lot of stuff with him, not all of them useless.
They had all started that way. You gradually think about carrying too much baggage upon getting longer in the tooth or lose most of it along the way.
Unless you’re a heartless bastard or a hoarder.
Lear was neither.
It didn’t make him a better guy.
“Sure. It’s on the mule,” Mark replied and stared at the two older bounty hunters looking back at him suggestively. “I’ll go and get it,” he hissed through his teeth and climbed down from his horse.
“Bring a piece of salted pork as well and that hard cheese you went and bought,” Edge told him.
“We can build a camp first,” Lear grunted with a glare.
“It’s gonna take ye a while to decide,” Edge retorted with an annoying leer. “I can feel it in me bones.”
“Argh,” Lear growled and dismounted to stretch himself for a bit.
“There are fine taverns just beyond those gates,” Edge taunted still leering but Lear would have none of it.
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Ronald ‘Edge’ worked on the dried up piece of pork in his mouth, softening it up with a bit of water first. He used the left side of his mouth ‘where them teeth are better’ supposedly. Lear was still poring over the map ten minutes later with Mark looking at the comings and goings inside the town.
“They rode straight through Aldenfort after making that initial stop at Tenor,” Lear repeated what that LID agent Tarsus had told them. If one removed the Legion armour and blue tunic from the young man back in Aldenfort, Tarsus could easily pass for a cutthroat. Nothing civilized about him also. A straight up murderer in uniform that had landed a good job. He was thorough in vetting them out and Lear hoped his information was accurate.
“I would’ve done the same in their stead,” Edge replied amidst chewing on the pork.
“They wouldn’t have stopped here also with the Duke’s army camped near the city. Too many nervous eyes to stall for long with everything that’s happening back west,” Lear continued and stretched his back, the tired spine crackling as it snapped in place.
Sort of.
“You don’t think they headed deeper inside Kaltha?” Mark queried and reached to have some water from the flask Edge was using, earning a glare from the older bounty hunter.
“They could have but I wouldn’t,” Lear replied.
“Looped around the lake and headed for Badum ye reckon?” Edge asked casually in between tentative bites at the rocky-chunk of cheese. He’d finished with the pork. “Thing is salty as fuck lad. Plenty of stone in it too or something pretty close.”
“It’s aged cheese. It lasts longer,” Mark defended his choice in supplies.
“Give me back that plaguing water,” Edge grumbled a little peeved.
“Would they have stayed there though? Duke Charles worked as Master of Silence for a time. He controls Badum now even if he stays at Riverdor,” Lear asked wanting to settle their argument.
“Don’t see him helping Lucius given their recent history,” Edge retorted.
“You think Charles can’t get past that? It worked out well for him in the end,” Lear countered.
“Optics matter for these noble cunts.”
“Say they visited Badum. Used a contact there to replenish their supplies afore heading out again.”
“Right. You want to look for some guy in Badum and not here?”
“Too close to the crime, too big a hub to have a man posted. You were right in that. But if the heat comes to Badum and had they decided to lurk thereabouts then you need someone to keep an eye open for trouble. If you spot man-hunters, they are there for you.”
“The Bank has a branch in Badum,” Mark added.
“Aye. Would they have stayed somewhere near?” Lear asked Edge.
“Could be. Assuming you are correct. Which isn’t decided yet. But pulling at this particular thread sure, they could always head further east if trouble came a-knocking. Mayhap even north or towards the Van Calcars. Then head north again. No better place to get lost but up there.”
“No, that’s too big a journey into the unknown. I don’t think they’ll attempt to run so far away unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Lear pointed out. “Not to mention Pascor is friendly with Lucius if the rumors are true. Trading with Asturia and all.”
“Uhm. I’m sure they are all fuck-buddies now. I also heard a man wanted to buy Framtond’s statue the other day and put it in his villa. Offered a silver. True story. But the Duke got greedy ‘n wanted two, so the deal sort of fell off.”
It took Lear and Edge twenty minutes to get everything out of their system.
But it worked and they did.
“So what does this mean?” Mark asked curious after watching their endless back and forth.
Edge grimaced, used the back of his hand to clean his mouth then glugged down the rest of the water with his eyes closed. He let out a thunderous belch right after. With that done he opened his pale-blue eyes, caught Mark still expecting an answer seeing as the folding the map Lear was lost in his thoughts and took it upon himself to answer the youngest addition to their team curtly.
“We’re sleeping by the bridge tonight lad and yer loaning me that spare blanket.”
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