Camille gave me a warm smile as she retrieved a document from a drawer and gestured at the chair in front of her desk. “Please sit, both of you.”

Camille waited for us to sit before continuing. “The official position I am offering you is Constable. On paper, your responsibility is to uphold the law and punish lawbreakers.”

“So like a guard, but with a nicer title?” I asked.

“Not at all.” Camille gave me a small smile. “Unlike a guard, a Constable has both executive and judiciary power. This means that if you find someone guilty of a crime worthy of a death sentence, you don't have to bring them to jail and await a trial. You have full authority to kill them right there and then.”

I looked at her suspiciously. “There's no way you're giving a random stranger that much power willy-nilly. What's the catch?”

“Of course, there will be measures in place to ensure you do not abuse your power, and in exchange for this power, I will give you important tasks you must accomplish,” Camille said. “Every day, you will report to my office so I can check if you abused your authority. I have a Skill that lets me distinguish lie from truth, so the process will be quick.”

No wonder this woman was so quick to put me in a position of power, and it also explained her random questions earlier. She was trying to gauge my personality.

I wonder what her conclusion was. Found out I was a good guy, I bet.

“Being a Constable sounds badass and all that, but can't you give me a safer job with fewer responsibilities? I noticed the City Hall has plenty of windows. Maybe you need a professional window cleaner—”

“No,” Camille refused resolutely as Morgman chuckled softly. “I will not have you waste your abilities just so you can clean windows all day. If you don't want to be a Constable, you can leave.”

“Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a bunch, woman,” I said, which turned out to be the wrong thing to say because Camille was now glaring at me. “Fine, I'll be your Constable.”

“Good,” Camille said curtly as she slid the document over to me. “Can you read?”

“No.”

“We'll have to fix that,” she muttered as she slid the document to Morgman instead. “May I trouble you to read the employment contract, Mister Thorn? Our friend here obviously has some trust issues.”

“Certainly, Governor.”

Morgman read the contract, which had very few stipulations, the most important of which was the one-year duration that could be renewed if I desired. In summary, I would work as the Constable and obtain all the benefits and responsibilities it entailed in exchange for the Governor's assistance against the family of the idiot I beat up. Camille pretty much explained the rest of it already, with the only thing left unmentioned being the salary. I was going to be paid one gold coin daily.

“Damn, if you told me about the salary right away, I wouldn't have bitched and moaned too much about it,” I said.

[Congratulations! You have obtained your first job. Experience gained.]

“Woah, I just gained experience for getting my first job,” I commented. I didn't even know I could gain experience aside from killing shit. When I looked up, Morgman and Camille were staring at me. “What?”

“I never would have thought that you were a lazy jobless bum all your life,” Camille said with a shake of her head. “You better not slack off on your job or else I'm docking your pay.”

“Hey, I'm not lazy! I just, uh…”

“I suppose it is time I take my leave, Governor,” Morgman said as he stood up.

“Thank you for bringing this lazy bum to my office, Mister Thorn. I promise to repay this favor,” Camille said as she stood up and shook hands with the old man.

“Don't be too harsh on him,” Morgman said. “He crushed the head of the last person who did.”

The old codger and the redhead laughed as if I wasn't in the room. “Unprofessional bastards,” I muttered. They were literally talking shit about me right in my face.

“I'll see you tomorrow too, then,” I said to Camille as I stood up. I wonder what the hotel had for lunch? I was starving.

“Who said you could go?” Camille said as I felt her gaze on me.

“What? What else do you want with me?”

“Your job starts today, Constable Bob. And I already have a mission for you.”

Morgman chuckled as he went for the door. “Good luck, Mister Bob. I think you'll need it.”

Goddammit.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

•••••

“A new group of smugglers who call themselves the Black Traders has infiltrated Shieldhold, establishing a nexus of illegal trade with the black market. Your mission is to find their base of operations, locate and seize any illegal contraband, and eliminate all smugglers.

“Preliminary investigations conducted by my spies suggest that the smugglers are headquartered in the old sewer networks beneath the South-Eastern sector of the city. An entrance from the surface that leads directly to the underground base is suspected to exist in a non-registered warehouse along 28th Street. You can use that as your point of infiltration.

“For this mission, you will be accompanied by Junior Guard Lance Brower and Senior Guard Warner Tieg. The chain of command puts you on top, followed by SG Tieg and JG Brower. Questions?”

“Yeah, can I have lunch first? I'm starving.”

“Get to it.”

“Wow, these tacos are fucking amazing,” I said as I walked along 28th Street. The meat was soft and tender, and the spicy sauce gave it some nice heat. I was already on my sixth taco.

“By the Gods, where are you even putting all that food?” Warner commented from my left. His mouth still had a bit of sauce left from the taco he'd eaten. “And do you call it taco where you're from? Here, we call it meat wraps.”

“Meat wrap sounds kind of boring,” I said as I bit into my taco. I can't place if the meat was chicken or cow. It honestly felt like a mix of the two, yet there was a different undertone that made me think it didn't come from a farm animal. “What is this thing even made of?”

“Jackalopes, most likely,” Warner answered. “They're huge bunny monsters with large horns prevalent in the forest south of the city. They're usually easy to kill, and with their high populations, that makes their meat cheap.”

“Huh, that's neat.”

“Can you guys focus?” Lance snapped from my right. “We're supposed to be on an important mission! We should be discussing strategies!”

“How the hell are we gonna discuss strategies when we haven't even seen the place? There is no point in thinking too much about it,” I said with my mouth full. Bits of jackalope meat sprayed on Lance's helmet. “Sorry 'bout that.”

“We could at least try to be more serious about it,” Lance grumbled. He then started reciting some random bullshit from a book. “Discipline is key in any military operation. Without discipline, chaos awaits the army.”

“Good thing we're not military then,” I said.

Lance paused. “We're not?”

Warner grunted. “There's a reason why we're called guards and not soldiers, kid.”

“What's the difference?” Lance asked.

“Guards beat unruly citizens. Soldiers beat unruly foreigners,” I said. Warner barked out a laugh.

Lance gave me a dubious glance. “You've got to be joking.”

I shrugged. “Jokes always stem from the truth. But anyway, you're probably right. We should decide on how we should go about this once we arrive at the warehouse.”

“I say just kick the door down and start swinging,” Warner grunted.

“My thoughts exactly,” I said as I finished off my taco. “Though I'd prefer if they just peacefully surrendered.”

Warner gave me a side-eye. “Didn't know you were such a merciful softie.”

“I'm not, though. I just don't want to stain my clothes. I quite like this Constable uniform.”

Right after Camille briefed me on my mission, she gave me a badass uniform. It looked just like a service dress uniform that military personnel wore on Earth in an informal setting. It consisted of an undershirt, gray jacket and trousers, black leather gloves, boots, and a cap.

But what made the uniform even more amazing was its combat features. Steel plates magically enchanted with extra durability were sewn into the fabrics, giving me the same level of protection as a full plate armor. If an Eluvian bear tried to disembowel me again, it'd find its claws shattered against this magnificent uniform. Even my boots were framed with metal inside the leather.

But the uniform wasn't even the best part of my new ensemble. No, it was the big battleaxe strapped to my back that made me break out into a grin every now and then. With a haft of about half a meter and a single-bladed head, the weapon of ass-whooping was made entirely out of steel and weighed a lot. Like my uniform, it was also enchanted with extra durability.

With my new threads and weapon, I felt like I could take on an entire army by myself.

“Why are you grinning like that?” Lance asked.

I quickly wiped the stupid grin off my face and scowled. “Keep your eyes on our surroundings, Junior Guard Brower. We must remain vigilant.”

Lance rolled his eyes but complied nonetheless. It was about time, anyway. We were nearing the vicinity of the warehouse, and I could already feel the change in the air.

We were unwelcome here.

The buildings on both sides of the street looked empty and abandoned, but I could see eyes peeking from the windows. If the local residents were wary, then we probably should be, too.

Although we were in a somewhat poor part of the city, the place still looked decent enough by my standards. The roads were paved, albeit a bit dirtied with litter. Only a few walls were vandalized, and I only saw a broken window once.

This place was leagues better than my old place.

Based on my companions' expressions, though, this place was foreign to them. I suppose I could understand their perspective. The rest of Shieldhold was a clean and beautiful place, almost a paradise of a city that they had grown up in. Meanwhile, this place looked like it was left behind by the times.

“Get ready, we're about to get some company soon,” I said as I unstrapped my battleaxe. The weight felt comforting in my hand.

“Where? I don't see anyone,” Lance said as he warily looked around.

“Not yet, you don't. But I spotted a few kids running ahead in the alleys. They're informing the guys we're after.”

“They use kids?” Lance asked with equal parts horror and anger.

I shrugged. “Probably. There's plenty of them, they're fast, and most importantly, they're easy to dispose of.”

“You know quite a lot about how these things go, eh?” Warner asked.

“I lived in a place far worse than this one. This place is a paradise compared to the one I grew up in.”

The warehouse eventually came into view a minute later, though there was a small issue. A group of cloaked figures were standing out front, facing us. Their hands held various bladed weapons.

We stopped several meters away from the group, and right then, another group of cloaked people emerged from a side alley and blocked the way back.

We were surrounded.

One of the cloaked figures stepped forward, and under the light of the setting sun, I spotted a bald head covered with tattoos underneath the hood. I'll call him Baldy. “And what're ya cunts s'posed to be doin' 'ere, eh? We already paid our dues, ya greedy bastards.”

I took a step forward, making the cloaked figures flinch. “Listen here, you dickheads. I'm the new Constable in town and I'm looking for the smugglers known as the Black Traders. Are you nitwits affiliated with them?”

The cloaked figures shuffled uncertainly as Baldy barked out a laugh. “Yer a lyin' sack o' shit! There're no Constables in Shieldhold, ya moron! Why'd ya think we set up shop in here?”

“So you are the Black Traders,” I said as I raised my axe. “You fuckers are under arrest.”

Then I charged.