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Lear ‘Razor’ Hik
‘Captain’
‘Butcher of Drek River’
‘Man from Atetalerso’
‘Best killers coin can buy’
Part I
-Headhunters on our trail-
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Captain Twan Moore of the Argus, an Issir from Pascor, sucked at his teeth thinking about it. Edge who had caught ‘a ton of nasty things’ crossing Bogbeast Marshes snorted loudly, two fingers closing a nostril, in an attempt to get ‘all the bad snot out’ for a third time since their talk had started by the docks. What the veteran called ‘remedy against all allergies’ was just him getting everything out of his system as fast as it was possible. The garish practice interrupted the Issir’s thought process.
“Is he alright?” Captain Moore asked a little concerned.
“He’s fine.” Lear rustled impatiently.
“Another stop near Asturia,” Captain Moore said turning to Lear. “We’ve excellent relations with our neighbors across the lake. What’s wrong with using their port facilities to disembark safely?”
A lot of hyperbole in the Issir’s words.
Some because of lies, the rest because Moore wasn’t privy in all the minutiae.
Lear remained silent and the Issir scratched a point under the left ear with a finger. “Well, for a bit of coin I could get you out at Islandport.”
“How is it better?”
“Or thereabouts.” Captain Moore expounded vaguely.
“That’s quite the detour.”
“We’ll lose a day,” the Captain of the Argus replied. “But it’s discreet.”
“Islandport is an even smaller place,” Edge commented after clearing his throat.
“Thereabouts,” Moore repeated with a leer. “Smugglers Beach. It’s like… a tourist spot of sorts that tourists don’t visit on the regular. Secret spot.”
“How can it be a tourist… isn’t this contradictory?” Mark asked.
Captain Moore stared at the young man for a moment.
“I disagree,” he finally said willing to die on that hill.
“It might work,” Lear decided thinking out loud and Edge snorted again, this time out of derision.
-
A week later
There were three platforms built near the edge of the Mandarin Forest. The beach cleared out near the makeshift docks and another two small ships moored there. A series of shaded small stands packed with people, mostly Issirs that were waiting for the sudden downpour to stop. Lear stepped on the muddy beach and walked slowly towards the custom dirt road that had turned into a narrow brook –a foot deep- which delivered debris, rotten twigs, leaves and watery mire from the guts of the forest.
He paused at the edge of it and wiped his soaked face, mostly to get the lake’s brine off of his skin. The water trickling down his grizzled medium-length beard and neck, directly to the sodden collar.
The Issir with the horses came out of the erected shade for the animals and waved an arm as he approached them. Edge and Mark had arrived behind Lear Hik one after the other.
“Argus?” The man asked, a lecherous face that seemed to be quite common in Pascor’s port and a crooked mouth with a couple of gold teeth on its upper left side. “Captain Moore’s load?”
“Um.” Lear grunted eyeing the animals gathered under the wooden overhang over the man’s shoulder. “Where are the mules?”
“With Elco Ramp.” The Issir replied and tended an arm which Lear didn’t shake. So the man retrieved it with a grimace.
“Them horses look older than me,” Edge commented. “And I need to stop every mile to piss.”
“They’ll get you a hundred kilometers at least.” The Issir argued. “Twice that with good rests. Maybe more. How far were you guys hoping to travel for the prize?”
“Where’s Ramp?” Lear asked hoarsely, checking on some of the other ‘tourists’ watching them talk.
“Islandport. He comes from Asturia once a month… to check on business. These are his ships over there. The product will head to Islandport on the morrow.”
“What business be that?” Edge asked needlessly curious. Lear glanced at his old partner. No, Edge was being sarcastic.
“Logistics,” the Issir replied and signed for them to get under the overhang and out of the rain. With a last glance at Argus and the other small ships inside the natural harbor Lear did. “Are you going to wait for the rain to stop?” The Issir asked them while they saddled the well-worked horses with equally old leather saddles.
“We’ll move while it’s still light,” Lear replied. There wasn’t really, much of a light that is. Still moving out of the beach and into the forest seemed the least of two evils.
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Two hours later they were at the much wider road, the town of Islandport a couple of kilometers away to their east and behind them the road leading to Tenor.
“Twenty kilometers for Dazzling Opossum,” Edge rustled looking down as if thinking whether to dismount on sturdier ground or not. The rain had stopped while they were inside the forest path.
“Do you want to risk another journey on empty stomach and no supplies?” Lear asked and stared at Mark who had lost five kilos of flesh in a few short months. The young man’s face looking gaunt and much older now. The road ages you. Especially on foot.
“We go to Islandport?”
“I go there to speak with Elco Ramp,” Lear decided. “You find a good place out of the road to make camp. Don’t light a fire. I’ll be back with the mules. Hopefully before the night is over.”
“It’s still early noon,” Edge noticed.
“It might take a minute,” Lear replied stiffly.
“A minute I can wait but you are talking hours here,” Edge retorted. “We might start chewing on horse meat soon.”
“We had dinner with the captain,” Lear grunted.
“What I got down, I puked back out again,” Edge countered. “The boy too.”
Lear grimaced and stared at the first buildings of the town in the distance. “Fine, get a fire going. Boil some tea.”
“Better hurry up captain,” Edge rustled acerbically. “Else we might fatten ourselves glugging it all down and these mounts look too weak to take the extra fucking load.”
Edge was always griping extra when tired. But keep him hungry and tired for long enough and the veteran would let you hear it. ‘The captain is responsible for the supplies part.’
Always.
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A man wearing a Legion’s cuirass under a coat told him Elco Ramp was always at his office near the Islandport’s docks. Now the town had taken a beating, with several houses crumbling into piles of debris, some streets completely blocked, but a year later work was being done to repair the damages from the war.
Ramp’s office was a large two-story high warehouse. A square sturdy building with several holes on its walls from the scraps fought inside or near the port. The holes had been boarded up at some point but now a working crew was busy fully repairing the larger ones with red bricks when he arrived. Lear dismounted and tied the reins of his decrepit horse outside the warehouse. Lowered the navy hat to cover his face some and walked inside the open large double doors.
Elco Ramp had a redingote on, a washed out blue fabric with a bit of lace at the sleeves, a yellow shirt underneath and a pair of loose pants. He was weighing sacks of grain, placing them on large iron scales.
“Yes?” The Issir merchant from Pascor asked and glanced at the muddy figure of Lear. “If you want to make an order, you’ll have to wait for Ned to arrive. We had a bit of a delay at the docks yesterday due to bad weather.”
“You owe me three mules and ten sacks of supplies. Meat, hardtack, tea, salt and oats.” Lear rustled and Ramp blinked unsure at first.
It was a very poor act all and all.
“Mister Lear,” Ramp said. “I was busy. Didn’t Ned find you?”
“He did,” Lear replied stiffly. “But you still owe me the supplies.”
“I don’t have the mules available at this point. They are at the docks to help out my crews,” Ramp explained and walked away from the scales to approach the rigid bounty hunter. “But come morrow I’ll have them here with your supplies.”
Lear pursed his mouth.
“I can arrange for you to stay someplace,” Ramp offered. “Won’t be much but it is dirt cheap. The army has messed up the city. Disrupted business.”
“You import and export stuff from Asturia,” Lear noticed raspingly.
“I do.” Ramp agreed. “The last couple of years the market opened up. I’m one of the first Pascor businessmen that expanded his affairs across the lake.”
“You had a leg up the market,” Lear commented wryly. “Knew your way around this side of the pond.”
Ramp nodded and walked to a table touching the wall of the warehouse. The place rather dark despite the light coming from the doors and the several cracks on the walls.
“Asturia taxes imported goods,” Ramp explained. “So theirs are always cheaper. So we get them in another way, unload here and then deliver them in Asturia as ‘local’ products.”
“What products?”
“Hemp, clay bricks, pottery and northern hides mostly,” Ramp explained.
“So this is a front for smugglers? A way to move ‘clean’ products?” Lear asked and Ramp smiled.
“I run a legitimate business,” he told Lear. “Papers signed by the Duke and everything. The city of Pascor shares in my profits.” Elco Ramp added.
“I’m sure they do.” Lear retorted crooking his mouth. “Early morning,” he said after a moment of thought.
“After noon,” Ramp countered. “I need time to gather the supplies.”
“I thought you had them, only missing the mules.” Lear argued.
“It’s half a day. What difference does it make?” Ramp insisted. “You’ll be heading to Mercator’s Inn after that. Plenty of time to reach it before nightfall.”
Lear nodded looking at the sacks of grain and the rather empty warehouse. “You said your ships are delayed at the docks? Here in Islandport?”
“Yeah.”
These are his ships, Ned had said. The product will be heading to town on the morrow.
Not the smuggler ships.
Obviously.
An innocent omission, Lear thought looking at the merchant/smuggler’s Issir face. Perhaps.
“We’ll come straight here and leave for Mercator’s Inn as fast as we get the mules,” Lear informed Ramp and walked out of the warehouse.
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Lear was back on the road outside Islandport well before nightfall. Half a kilometer from their campsite and the town he passed by a large military camp run by legionnaires. The majority of them sporting various old injuries.
Mark greeted him stepping on the cobblestone road and away from the small fire under the woods.
“Edge?”
“He has bladder problems,” Mark explained. “Looked like diarrhea.”
“He’ll clean up inside eventually. Did he have too much tea?”
“Yeah.”
“Um. You have to boil the water first. Re-boil the whole thing afterwards just to be certain,” Lear grunted and sighed. “How about we change course?”
“Alright,” Mark said unsure.
“We can have the mules and supplies by morrow noon or we can head straight for Asturia, see to get better mounts and supplies from there.”
“The road to Mercator’s Inn heads south.”
“Sure.”
“Aren’t we heading for Holt’s Stables and the Tunnel Pass?” Mark asked.
“That’s a pretty straightforward road,” Lear agreed.
“The fastest road mister Hik.”
“Yeah. To reach Cartagen.”
“Which is where we are heading?” Mark probed uncertain on where the conversation was going.
“The thing with the fastest roads is,” Lear explained raspingly. “Anyone can point them out on a map.”
A pale, sweaty Edge appeared out of some nearby bushes. He buttoned up his breeches whilst walking towards them. “What’s the hold up?” He asked looking for the mules, his mouth pursing tightly a moment later.
“Mister Hik thinks we better head to Asturia.” Mark said.
“Aha,” Edge grunted and scrunched up his face even more. “I smell shit and the odor ain’t coming from my arse. Though I’ve plenty of shit smeared back there this is a different smell.”
Mark furrowed his brows and sniffed discreetly at the air.
“I think Ramp might have gotten wind of a bounty.” Lear elucidated Edge’s voiceless query. “He does business in Asturia.”
“Got a message out you think?” Edge asked and went to wipe the sweat from his face but paused to stare at his palm. Then lowered the hand back down.
“Possibly. He’s looking to keep us around for a day,” Lear replied.
“Lots of army around here,” Edge noticed.
“Not so much after Mercator’s Inn or in the plains,” Lear agreed. “They could spot us coming up the road from miles away.”
Edge nodded. “Asturia might have our faces all over the place.”
“Who knows our faces? It’s a big city. We could get supplies and leave towards Croton. They won’t expect it. It’s a big detour.”
“Use the stone bridge and head towards Storm’s Rest.”
“Yeah.”
“Oras Navel is plenty big.”
“Bigger than the Tunnel Pass and you’ll end up days away from Cartagen,” Lear expounded.
“Lots of good ambush spots across the Framtond or even in Asturia,” Edge argued. “Plenty of wilderness.”
“It goes both ways old bones. And we’ll get some current info on what happened in the meantime. Pascor wasn’t exactly cosmopolitan in that regard. A longer path is still a path. No difference.”
“There is for my arse,” Edge griped and stared at the silent staring at him Mark. “You want to add something?”
“There’s some shit on your right boot Mister Edge,” Mark said in a low voice.
“It’ll wash out by itself,” Edge grunted with a scowl. “Else I’ll just get a dip in the river.”
“Better that you don’t,” Lear cut him off. “Framtond is as deep as the Canlita Sea at certain spots and you can’t swim that well.”
“Wow,” Mark gasped very impressed and Edge snorted while walking funnily towards his mount. He did drag the stained boot on the grass to clean it up some.
“He’s exaggerating kid,” Edge told Mark. “And the latter part wasn’t for me.”
-
image [https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSdlSKvD6aVRoMaYzF7sHaqbABpIlvhuhIoaTTsRCW5CaPS-9sbQyfYFyPSY1LSuSuD0kbZ1fGg8ROwUNkc6fSpvjrOmluyqHsWjeY6qwPJJJzub8O3VcN1hRy44Jh48j_EnC0p5kM3945DtT8ccscB4ipId9ggCMtR9GmtApCsFv5_h4oZ7DAR-dk/s2000/Asturia%20city%20v2.jpg]
28th of Decimus 194 NC
River Gates
(Twin-towered barbican)
Asturia’s West Entrance
The gates sergeant eyed the thin turbaned Cofol riding the grey horse before them with suspicion.
“Favor you say,” the Lorian sergeant repeated pursing his mouth. “What manner of business is this?”
“Simple,” the Cofol replied. “All things in life are.”
“You don’t say. What’s under the cloak?”
“A man carries weapons in another’s eyes, bur mere tools in the eyes of the one standing beside him,” the stranger replied. “They are sheathed. Thus they shall remain.”
“They better. Drawing steel for no reason carries a fine and a week of imprisonment,” the sergeant reminded him. “Go on. Next.”
Lear clicked his tongue and he had to give the horse a good squeeze to get it going. Those hundred kilometers Ned had promised as elusive or fake as Ramp’s supplies and mules.
The sergeant burped and then had some water from a flask to clear his mouth. He stared at Lear Hik, then at the pained Edge and the aloof Mark in turn.
“Names?”
“Mark, Roland and Icarus.”
A fat Lesia ‘I’ like an ‘H’.
People had shorten it to Hik.
“You lads a trio? Bards?” The sergeant asked and Lear showed him the pommel of his sword. “Right. Are you with the Guild? At least you look normal.”
“Not many Cofols around?” Lear asked while the sergeant wrote down their names and descriptions.
“It’s been a bit hectic lately,” the sergeant replied looking at Edge unsure. “Do I know you?” He asked the bounty hunter.
“You’re a bit younger than me sergeant, but also too old.” Edge rustled. “I ain’t yer father.”
“He’s under the weather,” Lear intervened and the sergeant glanced at him unsure.
“Eh. Anyways, you seem old enough to know the rules.” The sergeant decided.
“Is Nis O’ Toren still about?” Lear asked interrupting his flow.
“The adventurer? Eh. No idea. Sibren Maats is dead. Don’t know about O’ Toren’s crew. A bit before my time.”
“Who is running the Adventurer’s Guild now?” Lear Hik asked.
“Lars Spartacus,” the sergeant replied. “Move along now. The line is growing. Next!”
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“Fucking birds. They just let loose on yer head,” Edge cursed interrupting their slow stroll across the smaller market adjoining the Central Square and almost hidden inside Naossis’ Temple’s gardens. “Nice glassware though.” He added cleaning some of the white discharge from his saddle. “Don’t see how they helps us.”
“We are heading for the Adventurers Guild,” Lear explained. “But you two will stay behind while I check up on the old grounds.”
“Somebody might see you,” Edge told him.
“It’s about to rain again, no one is going to stare in faces under hats and hoods. I’ll go south around the woods, skirt the edges of the Adventures Hood and stay away from our Guild,” Lear explained. “Just want to check on the boards.”
“How about we send the kid?”
“He might get spotted and then followed.”
“Didn’t you just say -no one will stare in faces and all that baloney?”
“Just stay in the market, don’t buy anything,” Lear hissed.
“I’m easily convinced and hadn’t seen a proper woman in a while,” Edge griped. “Now that don’t mean I’ll do something but I may be enticed to make a donation.”
“Don’t. We’ll need the coin,” Lear grunted and glared at Mark. “Keep him safe.”
“Eh… right. Yes sir,” Mark replied.
“Don’t call me sir.”
“You heard the captain,” Edge chuckled.
“Gods damn it,” Lear growled. “Just keep your heads down.”
-
Half an hour later
Ebenezer Framtond’s Hall
HQ of Adventurers Guild
Asturia
The plaque read in gold letters.
> Resolve separates men from mice.
>
> Instead of fearing yer untimely demise,
>
> Chance another throw of the dice.
>
>
>
>
>
> Sibren Maats
>
> Circa 185 NC
Lars Spartacus raised his head seeing Lear Hik walk inside. Now a big wiry man, armed to the teeth isn’t too-exciting a sight inside the opulent Guild building Valwarin had helped create, but Lear Hik had an aura about him that made people take notice.
Also Lars knew him.
“Felix Hald is two streets away,” Lars said and waved at a young adventurer that had gotten up from the table to sit back down. No one else was inside the big reception hall at this time. “My son,” he explained to Lear. “There’s a bit of talk about you,” Lars finally said turning to look at the approaching his large desk Lear Hik.
“How much?” Lear asked after sitting on the chair in front of the desk.
Is the bounty was his meaning.
“A lot,” Lars Spartacus said and sipped from a goblet. He was about forty years old now. But his hair were all but gone. A few blond strands still remaining at the very top. “Too much. But the guild is not hunting heads my friend.”
“Officially,” Lear helped him and Lars shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s more your business,” the adventurer added. “The reason?”
“What did they write on the board?” Lear Hik asked.
“Murder basically. Some nasty stuff,” Lars crooked his mouth. “Any of it real?”
“Most of it probably,” Lear replied. “Have you heard of Nis at all?”
“He’s roaming at the square,” Lars Spartacus sighed. “Listen. We never had a friendship but I know you almost twenty years now Lear.” He paused to think about it. “You need to get out of the city. Hit the road and head for the mountains. Lay low for a couple of years.”
“I can’t do that,” Lear replied rigidly. “I’ve a contract to close. The final part.”
“Can it wait?”
“I don’t think so,” Lear said and stared at a painting of a creepily grinning Ebenezer hanged behind the guild’s leader. “Any news from the Capital?”
“Well, the Duke isn’t there. Our Duke. He’s at Aldenfort arguing with Baron Reynard Alden about the budget.”
“What for?”
“They want to build a road across the desert, through the mountains and towards Two Rivers. Kind of like our Tunnel Pass. Big plans, big expenses.”
Lear nodded. “Anything else?”
“The King is in Cartagen, hopefully not making more kids but I can see why he might try again and again.” Lars replied and smiled thinly. “Brakis attacked the Khanate Fleet by mistake, lost his son in the process but won so there is that? The King was pleased is the word, so all in all that’s good for the Kingdom unless the Khan takes offense. I would,” he added.
“Anyone here trustworthy?” Lear asked.
“Depends… to whom.” The leader of the guild replied in a careful manner.
“Lucius.”
“Lord Bernard runs the city,” Lars replied. “So his people are making the decisions. You try to meet with Bernard, the word might get out. Then leaving the city could turn out to be very difficult.”
“Who is captain of the city guards?”
“Carius Libo, but he answers to Titus Rebus who is Lord Bernard’s man.”
“I don’t know them.”
“Younger generation I guess,” Lars Spartacus commented and glanced towards the door. “People might start coming for meal and rest.”
“Anything new over at Felix’s place?” Felix Hald had control of the Bounty Hunters Guild but it was a much smaller building and a loosely run guild.
Any new faces was his meaning.
“Teo and Saladino were spotted about a month back,” Lars replied. Teo Rullus and Saladino Dittus. Bounty hunters out of Lesia. They worked for the Bank but rarely left Lesia’s borders.
“That’s a big journey.” Lear commented. “Strange they moved out. I thought they had retired.”
“Maybe they had. Ah, Sita came by to say high a week back also,” Lars continued. “Got the feeling he was eager to check what I’ve heard.”
Lucky Sita. ‘Tib’ Vero. Opiter and Vonk. Another group of headhunters. They worked all cases.
“Any word on ‘Tracer’ Jack?” Lear asked casually.
“Maybe.”
“You’re going to haggle now?”
“Not really. Listen, you need to get out of the city Hik.” Lars tried again. “Someone might recognize you. Sure you look like shit now and appear old as dirt but I knew that mean mug the moment it stepped through the doors.”
Lear narrowed his eyes.
“For fuck’s sake. Jack is under house arrest or something.”
“Which house?”
“Rebus. You can’t go near there Hik. Rebus is handling Bernard’s internal affairs that’s a line that goes straight to the Duke, even the Queen.”
“Good,” Lear replied and got up. “That’s close.”
He paused after taking a step and turned around to glare at the grimacing Lars Spartacus.
“Which Queen?”
The leader of the Adventurers Guild furrowed his brows confused. “Ours?” He finally answered and Lear nodded pursing his mouth.
Not close enough.
Eh.
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Lear Hik walked out of the impressive stone and marble columned building, went to his horse without hesitation and climbed up. He led the horse around the building and into the south edge of the temple’s garden. Then took the longer road again moving on the periphery of the square to get back. Lear stopped under the first trees at the banks of one of the small lakes and watched for a while the citizens going about their business in the Adventurers Hood behind him.
After making certain no one had followed he continued through the forest, went by the back side of Naossis’ Temple and reached its smaller -run by the Priestesses’- market near the Central Square. Edge and Mark were still there talking with a heavy-set priestess with red hair, a round freckled fleshy face and sparkling green eyes. A massive bosom that had a very-distracted Mark trying not to look at it while the veteran bounty hunter was talking with the priestess standing behind the stand.
“Mark,” Lear grunted after he dismounted near them to snap him out of his reverie.
“Ah, there he is,” Edge said turning around, a piece of fur hanging from his neck with a simple silver chain. “This is sister Saena and her friend…” Edge pointed at another equally bountiful priestess with blond hair and an equal amount of freckles. She was a bit older in age, not that it mattered if you are willing to look past all the lard and the more sober expression. Lear was willing at some point in his life. Not this point.
He’d been there, done that.
“Sister Hermione,” Saena helped up in a deep throaty voice. Lear stared at her intently and the priestess’ face blushed a deep red despite the chill of the woods-located market and late fall day.
“We need to get moving,” Lear grunted crooking his mouth.
“Yeah,” Edge agreed and tipped his hat to the priestess. “Pleasure doing business with you. Praised be the Goddess.”
“All times of day and night,” Saena replied with a bow of her head. Those fleshy mounds moving under the rather thin fabric.
For the season.
Right. “We'll cut through the market,” Lear rustled and walked past the stands leading his horse with the reins.
“It’s a lucky charm,” Edge explained some minutes later and showed him the pendant.
“Ah,” Lear grunted looking about them. The small marketplace giving way to the bigger one, the Central Square Market before Tyeus Tower and Framtond’s massive statue.
“A rabbit’s left hind foot, captured inside a cemetery at night,” Edge explained. “It ward’s off magic.”
“No sorcerers are dabbling in headhunting far as I know,” Lear hissed and stopped to take in the large busy expanse and get used to the big crowd inside the impressive bazaar.
“Well,” Edge said with a grimace and stared at Mark for help. The youngest member of the team puffing out afore adding.
“It fortifies the seed as well.”
Lear licked his lips slowly. “In case you didn’t get it the first time, there are headhunters on our trail,” he informed them.
“So we come to the square to gaze at Ebenezer’s stupid face?” Edge griped and slotted the pendant inside his collar.
“We are looking for Nis O’ Toren,” Lear grunted.
“Who is he?” Mark asked looking at a food stand desperately.
“A Nord adventurer that came to Asturia. Mixed up in a lot of things. Sibren Maats worked with him afore Sibren formed his own team,” Edge explained. “Nis is well over sixty by now Lear and he’d that bad knee since seventy two.”
“An arrow?” Mark asked curious.
“A spiked mace,” Edge retorted.
“Nis is loitering somewhere around here,” Lear explained. “I’ll move in deeper to look for him. You two will do the same.”
“Might be time to move out of the city,” Edge noted and Lear grunted then cast a look at the food stands.
“Not without proper supplies. Else we’ll need to hunt our way through the winter,” he finally said.
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Lear Hik got mixed up with the crowd going about their business in the Asturia’s main square, either visiting the market, gazing at the massive statue, Tyeus Tower, Naossis Temple and the Library. The Adventurers Guild headquarters building he’d just visited visible beyond the statue’s feet.
The bounty hunter rounded the stone platform supporting the statue and reached after navigating the busy crowd the steps of the Library on the other side. The market extending that far, this portion of it selling ink phials, quills and parchments. A herald standing on the stairs giving an account of the past month.
“Legatus Merenda is fighting the Khanate between the lakes! What a conundrum!” The herald announced pompously to the few that had stopped to listen to him. To their defense, one could listen to the herald from any point of the large square almost. The man had quite the pair of lungs. “Things are looking grim indeed but fools and luck go together! Lord Bernard vowed to crack down on illicit goods and apprehend the perps the other day. Look across the pond I say! Duke Dolf might take offense to that!”
Lear scanned the faces of those near him and then the customers loitering around the market’s stands. His eyes turning back to the Library’s stairs, where some had stopped to rest. A lanky figure sitting halfway up and listening to the herald speaking of the King beyond the Pale Mountains. The grey-haired, clad in leather and furs old man was smoking a pipe, a large custom made thick cane between his legs. Iron reinforced and almost the length of a staff or a medium pole of about two meters.
Not a magic staff, just a sturdy bludgeoning tool.
“The matter has been brought to the merchant’s guild but they can’t offer solution!” The herald continued while Lear started navigating the crowd to reach the sixty-steps of the Library dragging his horse along. People protested briefly afore deciding to move out of his way. “There are old papers they say but in a tongue no one can read but the big-eared King himself! Hah-hah! Who can argue with that! The Wine Barons protested formally to Regia is the word! If I’m King Lucius, I would have given them the finger!”
Lear tied his horse in a pole at the base of the Library and started up the stairs, his knees protesting a bit. The old Nord watched him coming up puffing and huffing, pale wrinkled face sporting a couple of nasty scars and his right eye leaking down with a severe case of the cataract.
Nis looks sick, Lear thought at first but then he realized the retired adventurer was just old.
“Swear to the Allfather not that he gives a damn,” Nis grumbled blinking both eyes. “You look familiar young man.” He told the arriving Lear Hik.
“You look like a sack of old shit Nis,” Lear retorted. “How’s the knee?”
“Worse than the other year.”
“What year be that?” Lear teased playing the little game, for a moment feeling as if no time had passed. But thirty years had gone by. Sibren was in the mud, along with Grin, Rita and all the others.
“Who cares?” Nis retorted with a vexed grunt. “I sure don’t.”
Lear nodded and looked towards the square from the elevated vantage point. “It’s a good spot.”
“It is,” Nis agreed and stared at him.
“Seen anything funny?” Lear asked.
“Some clowns moving about the square dragging their horses behind and annoying people. The Duke has parking spots all about for that very reason.” Nis replied raspingly, the northern accent all but gone now after so many years in Asturia. “Look suspicious as all-hells but what do I know?”
“We may be in a bit of trouble Nis.”
“That’s the word,” Nis agreed and used the back of his calloused hand to wipe his tearing eye. “That mumbling idiot Roland still around?”
“Yeah, he’s with the other guy down there. Rita died. It’s been a while.”
“Um. I know. One of her cousins told me,” Nis replied and pursed his mouth.
“How is the Jarl?”
“Getting older. He has some winters still left in him,” Nis said raspingly. “But no more than that.”
Lear nodded. “The wolf takes over after him?”
The old Nord gathered saliva in his mouth and spat down moving the staff aside. “You need brains to rule and he has none but he’s strong enough I suppose.”
“What good is that?” Lear asked.
“He’ll be difficult to kill?” Nis shrugged his shoulders. “Why kill the girl Lear?” He asked without looking at him.
“I gave her the opportunity to walk away,” Lear grunted and Nis snorted.
“You got angry but you killed her for another reason,” the old Nord finally said. “In your eyes she was better off dead.”
Lear grimaced not wanting to think of Eleonora. The girl’s head was in the bag Mark carried. Along the other heads. This was the job.
“I learned a bunch of stuff she wanted to keep hidden. She just wouldn’t back down and intended to murder a lot of people to make it happen.” Lear said after a moment of silent contemplation. “I’ll need supplies to get off the cities and travel the wilderness. Is Atronius Sigilis still in charge of the warehouse?”
This was what the black market in the slums was called.
Sigilis was a member of the Thieves Guild.
“He’s around. Doesn’t walk as much,” Nis replied. “Which is pretty damning considering our friend’s profession.”
“Can you get to him?”
“Sigilis has a bird he visits,” Nis said with a grimace of pain. “You have coin?”
“Yeah. Courtesy of the Bank.”
“Know that a lot of people came in Asturia these past months,” Nis said and let out a grunt in the effort to get up using his staff. He stood a bit taller than Lear but not as tall as the bounty hunter remembered him. “Men of your ilk and some worse than that even, I suspect.”
“Silent Servants?” Lear asked. “Eleonora was mixed up with them.”
“I find it difficult to believe she was. The Bank had been using another group for that. But you might be right that they could be around also,” Nis replied raspingly. “But remember that the Bank has a lot of reach son,” he added. “Lots of Guilds of killers out there, not as famous but equally deadly.”
“Which group?”
“Who knows? I heard it many years ago.” Nis replied. “The League of Lone Slayers. An Eplas brotherhood.”
Lear thought of the Cofol at the River Gates and nodded. He gave Nis a scroll. “Get in touch with Sigilis and have him move fast.”
“That’ll be difficult in his age but I’ll see what I can do,” Nis said and pocketed the scroll without reading it.
“I’ll owe you one,” Lear added and the old Nord started laughing until a cough overcame him.
“Fuck off you brat,” Nis grunted hoarsely. “Given yer plaguing record by the time we see each other again I’ll be in the mud. Tell that sentimental fool Roland to find himself another girl. He’s still young.”
“Eh, not sure if that’s true.” Lear teased with a crook of his mouth.
“Trust me son, when you’re really old,” Nis had rejoined sourly. “You’ll fucking know it fer sure.”
-
2 days later
Eleventh month of the year 194 NC
Midnight
“You want to get ‘Tracer’ Jack out?” Edge griped staring at the lit up villa across the street. The corner of the Duke’s Vines and the Inner Northeast District under the walls of the city. The road leading to the Northeast Gates down his left side and the Goddess’ Walkway down the right.
“We need to surprise them somehow,” Lear explained.
“How about we take the blasted mules and get the fuck out of the city?” Edge grunted.
“Lord Bernard is keeping Jack,” Lear explained. “In Rebus’ villa. This means he is not partial to the Bank’s plans.”
“Or it’s a trap and you’re about to walk into it.”
“Not much of a guard outside.”
“It’s a big fucking building!” Edge snapped and puffed out.
“You’ll head for the Northeast Gates. Skirt around the city walls and reach the Slums. Nis will be there with the supplies. Don’t let him come along if he offers. He’s too fucking old. You’ll hide in the forest near the road to Croton and I’ll join you there. I’ll cut through the South Gates to make up some time,” Lear breathed in and looked at the nervous Mark. “We made it this far lad. This is the final stretch but we need to know who is standing with whom.”
“We can’t untangle all the fucking plot threads and learn all about the court’s myriad coalitions in a couple of days Captain!” Edge protested.
“There are no coalitions set in stone. People just do what’s good for them depending on their character and ethos if they have any,” Lear grunted. “A better offer comes along or a person they like more and they might be persuaded. Self, family and friends. Profit. Ambition. It boils down to pretty basic stuff Edge.”
“You son of a bitch,” Edge grunted. “Who are you trying to impress here? A man needs just a single reason to kill you and sometimes not even that!”
“Yet Jack is still alive,” a sober Lear replied pursing his mouth. “Which means there’s plenty of leverage here. All these threads pulling and lugging, the whole bloody thing too sensitive to take another blow for whatever reason. Or for many reasons. I’ll give it a kick and see what falls down.”
Edge sighed miserably and Mark put a comforting hand on his shoulders. The adventurer took offense at that and slapped the young man’s hand away angrily. By the time he turned around to speak to Lear the latter had moved towards Titus Rebus opulent villa. Too opulent for a minister of a city. In fact, Lear thought as he approached the two guards at the entrance. This appears more like a place a much richer person would keep ‘on the side’ to conduct his business. A good ways from the palace but basically close enough. The barracks at the near and a clear route to the Goddess Pathway or the Slums for some unsavory dealings.
“The hour is late,” the guard told Lear under the rim of his helm. “Come back in the morning.”
“I’d like to speak with Rebus,” Lear said looking at the guard straight up.
“Is it important?”
“It is. He’ll want to hear it.”
“Your name?”
“Lear Hik.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell. Should it?”
“Is Rebus here?” Lear asked patiently.
The guard turned to his colleague. He shook his head negatively.
“You’ve a man in there named Jack,” Lear said and the guards turned to stare at him curious. “If I know that and I know Rebus, maybe you should let me through.”
The guard grimaced and glanced at the building’s far south corner. The alley there leading to the outer walls occupied by a carriage Lear couldn’t fully see. When he returned his eyes on the guard, his friend had marched inside the building.
“Rebus isn’t here,” the first guard told him.
“When will he be around?” Lear asked with a grimace of frustration getting a shrug of the shoulders as an answer. It was unlikely Lear could safely return on the morrow. Maybe it’s time to kick the door in, he thought and reached for his razor. This is going to close a lot of doors mate, his mind warned. Lear scrunched his jaw this way and that anxiously, the guard watching him oblivious to his plight.
The second guard returned while the moment dragged. He stepped next to his colleague and whispered in his ear.
“Are you certain?”
“The Lord’s order Ton,” the second guard replied with a shrug of his own.
Ton stared at Lear unsure and then puffed out in exasperation. “Fuck’s sake. Follow after me,” he told the bounty hunter and marched in turn inside the villa’s entrance. The entrance leading to a small atrium and then another large door. The sky roared and opened up outside, the rain rapping at the thin glass ceiling of the atrium behind Lear as he walked down the corridor, following after the murmuring guard. It was a large corridor this. The building even bigger than what it looked. Statues adorning the carpeted corridor in regular intervals. Mostly of nude men and women. Paintings of similar vulgarity on the walls. The guard paused before a cracked open door at the far edge of the building and knocked once.
“Let him in,” a young cultured voice replied. “Stand at the door Ton and leave it open.”
Lear grimaced and walked inside the large office and library. Plenty of naked statues in there as well. The desk a polished black with red details. Stacked papers on it and inkpots. A well-dressed Lorian behind the desk, sitting in a relaxed manner. Slick black, well-combed hair and handsome face. A strange engraved bottle of wine open in front of him. Two long-necked gem-adorned chalices filled with it. The strange aroma filling the large office, smelling of wet earth, mature flowers and spiced grapes.
The back of a red-haired woman sitting in the chair before the young noble man answering Lear’s query on who the second glass belonged to.
“The infamous Lear Hik,” the young man said and the woman turned around in her chair to look at the discomforted bounty hunter. Blue and green spotted eyes, an oval mixed-race face, perfectly made up. Her stare cutting like a sharpened dagger. “Quite the surprise,” the Duke’s son continued. “And I don’t know what to make of it. You know Lady Manuela Mclean I believe?”
Yeah.
“I’ve been looking for you Lear,” Manuela said in her posh cultured accent. A play for the younger man. She was nearing her forties now, but was still as pretty as any woman Lear had met.
On the outside.
Old Federico’s dangerous offspring had come herself, which explained why Rullus and Saladino had bothered moving out of Lesia. The boss was on the move.
“You have something that belongs to me,” Manuela continued. “Are you going to play nice in front of Lord Bernard?”
Lord Bernard blinked and made a gesture to Lear. “Take a seat mister Hik.”
“I’ll stand,” Lear rustled.
“I’m unarmed Lear,” Manuela reminded him pursing her painted lips.
“Not yet, you aren’t,” Lear retorted.
“Mister Hik,” Lord Bernard hissed losing some of his cool. “You are a guest. Have some wine, a touch of bread. Let’s talk like civilized people. I can’t have you threaten a lady in my presence for the love of the Goddess!”
“Devil’s spawn,” Lear grunted trying to figure out what the best move here was. Fight or talk his way out of trouble. The problem with fighting was that once you started killing bad folk, the other folk tended to get confused on who was in the right. Even tried to stop it which could turn very ugly.
Eh.
Decisions, decisions.
“Good grief. Mister Hik!” Lord Bernard admonished him. “You are not helping your case sir!”
“Whatever she told you was a lie,” Lear hissed. “You need to inform the king immediately.”
“The King?” Lord Bernard asked with a gasp.
“Let’s call a truce Lear,” Manuela said syrupy. “Talk it through.”
“Sir?” Ton asked from the door.
“Just… stay out there damn it!” Lord Bernard cursed in frustration.
Hmm.
So Bernard doesn’t know all.
Neither do you.
“I’m prepared to listen,” Lear replied.
Bernard blinked not believing his ears. “How noble of you. Are you serious?”
“But Jack comes with me.”
“For what reason?” Bernard asked and Manuela furrowed her trimmed brows unsure.
“He owes me,” Lear sort of lied.
“I can’t condone this,” Bernard argued and puffed out. “You’ll need to promise you won’t harm the man.”
“I promise,” Lear replied.
Manuela wasn’t certain what his angle was. “Jack doesn’t know anything Lear. Do you?”
I bet he does.
Lear grabbed at the chair and pulled it away at an angle to watch the door before sitting down. His worn-out from months of traveling the wilderness knees were hurting too much to keep standing there looking ominously at Federico’s daughter.
“Let’s talk then,” Lear told her instead and his face contorted in a half-a-grin half-a-grimace of pain.
Fight it out later.
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