From the back she looked like any other man in the place, her rough leather gear tattered and worn from whatever tasks she completed behind the desk. Her elbows and hair was dirty covered with grease of animal fats and the dusk of bone and from the beast she had carved. The only fact that made Anthony realize she was a woman was her eyes which had been painted with black goo that she rubbed off while wiping the sweat from her brow. As she approached the counter she placed her elbow on the edge of the barred window talking through a small opening in between her and the hunters on the other side.

“Yeah, what do you want, the days are almost over you know?” She tapped her fingers on the counter awaiting his response.

“My apologies, am I to understand that you’re the manager of this fine establishment?”

“If that’s what you call this shack in the middle of the town, then yes.”

“...and you are?”

“Philomela, you can call me Phil, wait...” She suddenly examined the hunter in front of her, realizing he wasn’t as rough cut as the rest of her usual customers. “...I haven’t seen you around her before, why am I giving you my name first?”

“My apologies.” He said, stepping back and retrieving his Brimstone Fang under his shirt and placing it near the slot along with silky blue stone attached to it. “My name is Anthony, I’m a hunter from the state of Brontes.”

“The luxury states?” She laughed, taking the tag and inspecting the cut and mark that had been stamped. “We rarely get any hunters from there to this little corner at the edge of nowhere. Unless it's for a ranking exam or there’s something that they can’t find already.” She placed the tags back toward Anthony having finished her inspection. “Well, your tags seem authentic, and you’re a first class, C rank, that’s way above the cut. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of work if you know where to find it.”

“Actually, I already have a good idea about that.”

“Already?” She laughed at his eagerness. “Aren’t we the enterprising one, who could afford a hunter from Brontes around here?”

“It was a little shop on the edge of town, a shopkeeper by the name of Gaia?”

Philomela took a step back when she heard that name, like she had heard glass breaking on the floor. She looked around to notice that she wasn’t the only one, because more eyes were suddenly staring at both of them, particularly three men in the corner of the warehouse. They had been passing the time by playing cards but suddenly their eyes were not focused on something besides the cards in their hands. From the shadows of the far corner of the warehouse, they watched and waited for what her next answer would be.

“I understand that Ms. Zoe has a number of orders from the local hunters guild that are still standing. I would like to have them all, before the end of the day.”

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in something else, stranger?” She regained her composure and leaned on the desk. “I mean, I got tons of orders from the Boreas Group that need to be filled that would pay considerably for your services?”

“The Boreas Group?”

“They’re the largest healing corp in the Gratis, some of the best healers in Wind Mage craft. I mean Gaia’s a good pharmacist but her operations are small, I’m sure an experienced hunter like yourself would want to get better...”

“The job may be fairly rewarding, but unless you wish to refuse me, I’d like to take this up with higher management.”

“That would be my father.”

“Your father?”

“Yeah, he owns the warehouse, I’m just watching for him to maintain the family business.” She sighed at the thought.

“Am I to believe this is not your ideal occupation?”

“No, I enjoy dealing with lowlifes and cutting meat all day for cash.” She rolled her eyes in sarcasm.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You say that, but I do not hear sincerity in your words.” Anthony knew there was something weighing on her mind, but thought it might be best coming from her own words.

“Hey I don’t mind it, but I wish I wasn’t sitting behind a window all day.” She spoke true from the pit of her soul deeply. “I wanna be like my dad, you know, really work with my hands...” She imitated the act of chopping and slicing beast carcasses. “...my dad says it’s not my place. I’m too smart and lady-like to be handling men’s work, give me a break. I grew up with three older brothers, and he thinks I can’t handle myself with heavy butchery. I’d whip their butts from here to next week if he gave me a shot at the old chopping block.”

“May I see you hand miss?”

“What are you trying to propose to me or something?”

“Please humor me, this is streakily business.” He held his hand up near the wind.

Reluctantly, Philomela showed her greasy palm to Anthony and he began to poke and prod it with his fingers, testing every callus and scar that she had as well as every substance on as well. In very little time she gave a detailed analysis of her work history.

“The roughness of your hands you’ve been training everyday with a knife and cleaver. The traces of animal oil and fluids indicates you’re fairly familiar with anatomy of animals and even greater beasts. My only critique is that your cutting skills might be too powerful.”

“Are you insulting me!” She took her hand back and rubbed it as if it had been violated in mere minutes. “I could cut a corpse in half with one chop I’ll have you know.”

“I mean no disrespect Ms. Phil.” He waved it off. “I am merely offering you my humble opinion. Assuming your butchery skills were self taught, you might have lacked a critical element in your practice. I mean the difference between a cut and a chop.”

“What, did you say, stranger?” He took out his knife and demonstrated his technique from behind the iron bars.

“When chopping you’re drawing more strength to break off the hand and arm to increase effectively. However, certain techniques require more speed and finesse to effectively cut the meat while using minimal strength so that you can produce effective results while conserving your strength. In other words, you should build your stamina by working on slow effective cuts, as opposed to wasting your energy with cumbersome chops.” He dances with his blade in swift fluid motions, demonstrating the difference between chopping and cutting until he sheathed his knife back in one smooth stroke.

“From the looks of those fancy knife skills, you must come from a family of butchers yourself.” Philomela watched with admiration.

“In a manner of speaking, but my personal life aside, I would still request those orders, if you’d be so inclined.” His face was like stone and Philomela knew he wasn’t trying to impress her, but merely demonstrate his own experience.

“...I can see you’re a guy who knows what he wants, I like that, but you might also be crazy to boot.” She shook her head finally relenting on his instructions. “Here’s the deal, I can give you those orders, but you’ll have to hand them to me from over there, yourself.”

“Where would that be?”

She pointed behind his shoulder, at a large wood board nailed to a wall, filled with order forms. Anthony had been accustomed to receiving orders directly from the manager, but this guild to be on a first come first served basis. There on the board was a collection of papers, one after the other in a single pile, right next to a small group of men waiting patiently beside it.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya, stranger.” She turned around and imagined an invisible knife in her hand, trying to replicate the moves she had just seen.

It was that she wasn’t interested how this was going to play out, more like she knew what was going to happen the moment he stepped toward that board. Anthony showed no fear as he approached the job board and examined all the papers. There many types of jobs to be had, mostly for individual orders from bodyguard work, hunting, gathering, and even offers to join hunter parties on long and lengthy expeditions. However, a large number of jobs had the stamp of the Boreas which was a cloud with four faces, facing in four directions. In the center of a large group of these papers, was a stack that was piled up one on top of the other with a seal of watch that had the heart and fire symbol of the Pharmacy. Anthony had no hesitation when he pulled the stack of papers away from the wall one after the other.

As he did, his senses became highly alert at the sound of feet shuffling. Men getting out from their chairs with the smell of booze on their breath and the feeling of malice in their eyes. It was like a cold thrill that went up his spine, a feeling had come accustomed to especially in the slums. It was that same feeling he had when he noticed four men, trying to rob him of his purse a few days earlier. Right now, it was telling him that Philomela’s warning was indeed sincere, whatever tasks he was taking nobody else wanted him to apply.

He turned around and started the leader of the group that surrounded him, a tall burly man wielding a greatsword on his back, and the pelts of many kills around his coat. He was indeed a seasoned hunter, but more barbarian than others he had seen before. As he looked at the scars on his muscles and face he realized he had faced many beasts, but now his target was staring right back at him.

“Hey you.” He spoke with a gnarled voice. “You’re not thinking of taking those jobs are you?”

“...As a matter of fact I am.” He gripped his knife ready to pull it out the moment this situation turned hostile. As more men began to slowly approach and draw their weapons, he realized that the outcome was almost inevitable.