Mid Spring - 1901

  “Ah! Got you, you little bugger!” Boras Cutter cackled.

  Arcos Blade turned from his scanning of the long country road as he and his travelling companions rested against a rising ditch that grew naturally alongside the road.

  Reeva Braider had her hands crossed under her head for a few minutes of sleep, whilst Boras was seated on a boulder and rooting around in his open boot on his lap.

  Arcos cracked a grin when he noticed one of Boras's toes sticking out from his degraded sock. They certainly needed new clothes as soon as they got into the capital.

  Boras fished out a pebble no bigger than a fingernail from the cave of his boot and presented it to Arcos like a trophy.

  “Ha-ha!” He cried out in triumph.

  “That’s it?” Arcos said with an eyebrow raised. “That’s what’s been causing you discomfort for the last hour? All of the whining, all the groaning… just for that.”

  “Well…” Boras shrugged as he flicked the pebble away. “Pebbles are the bane of any traveller.”

  Arcos rolled his eyes. “I bet they are.”

  “I like travelling in comfort.”

  “I bet you do.”

  Boras wrung his hands to the heavens. “Why didn’t we get a couple of horses back in Silverstreak??”

  Reeva sighed, eyes still closed. “As I already told you… The Fist took them all. You misremembering dope…”

  “Oh. Right…” Boras shook his empty boot to expel any other unwanted materials from his foot’s home. “Well, we could have taken Gaxidon.”

  Reeva barked a laugh. “What a good idea. Would love to see how you intended to do that with that nag.”

  “I mean, where there’s a will…” Boras yanked on his boot, strapped down the laces, and stood back up with a stretch of his arms. “Rested enough, princess?” He asked Reeva.

  “Well, I was going to be, but you just love to continue chattering like an overbearing magpie, so it’s hard to get a moment’s sleep.”

  Arcos rolled his eyes at his friends’ back-and-forth bickering. He turned his view towards the east, recalling in his memories of his travels along this road.

  He attempted to work out how long they had left to go till they reached Fennaposia. Not too long, hoping by the length of their treks and his scant rests they were. They didn’t have time. Three days since leaving Silverstreak and they were still nowhere near the capital. Arcos sighed through his teeth and turned to the pair.

  “Come on, you two. Let’s move.” He said with a little more edge than he had meant to muster.

  They looked to him, noting the sour expression he had. They nodded with chastised looks.

  “Sorry, Arcos…” Reeva said. “For a moment, I actually forgot what we were doing. It just felt nice, travelling on the road with you two.”

  “Yeah. Sorry, mate.” Boras added as he hefted his gear over his shoulder.

  Arcos waved the apologies away. “It’s alright. We just don’t have a lot of time to waste now. We’ve got to get to the city. Sooner, the better.”

  They nodded and the trio moved onwards along the main road, feeling the pebbles and dried mud crunch under their feet and once again reminded of their true destination and the fight waiting for them.

  Half an hour later, as they crossed a lengthy stone bridge that spanned over the rushing Corikyne river that ran from the north in a southwesterly slant, Boras asked yet another question.

  “Question…” he asked. “How do we actually get into the city? I mean, surely Markus is going to be having people out looking for us.”

  “Fair point.” Arcos agreed. He rubbed the sweat from his brow. The sun was particularly harsh today. “I’m thinking we could sneak in at night. I did that the last time I got into the city. I stowed myself into a cart and got hauled in without a problem.”

  Boras raised his eyebrow. “I bet you fifty pieces of silver they’ll be searching the carts properly this time round. You got lucky.”

  “Have you got anything, then?” Arcos asked with rolling eyes. He had found that when talking with Boras, it was always an uphill battle with him. Boras never gave ground easily in any conversation. Arcos found that to be simultaneously very admirable and very irritating.

  “No idea.” Boras admitted readily. “But I’ll be happy to tell you if your ideas work or not when you voice them.”

  “Useful as always, Boras.” Reeva said with a helping of sarcasm.

  “Oh, what do you have to add, Reeva?” Boras turned his smiling face to her expectantly.

  Reeva scratched her chin, then she heard something behind them. She turned around. “Let me think… Aha.”

  “What do you mean ‘aha’?” Boras asked. "'Aha' is not an idea."

  “Let’s ask for help.” She said.

  She then stepped to the side of the road and stuck out her thumb.

  The two boys turned and saw what Reeva had noticed.

  Far in the distance, down the road which they had travelled, was a wooden ox-drawn cart with a single occupant. The great beast lumbered forth, one melodic step at a time. The occupant wore a brown travelling cloak with a wide-brimmed straw hat that shaded the face from the sun. The trio could now hear singing coming from the occupant. It was a woman’s voice, signing a slow and woeful tune:

  When I was a pure maid, comin’ from Dawnlay,

  I came ‘cross a dog which were hurt so bad.

  Missin’ an ear and part of a paw,

  The dog yowled and cried, to drive ya’ mad.

  I wept and wept, for the sight broke me heart.

  ‘ow could I walk by, without a damn?

  I knelt by the creature, tended to his wounds,

  Not knowin’ he be a wolf and I be his lamb.

  His jaws snapped up and grabbed me arm,

  Twisting furred muscle to break me bone.

  I screamed and cursed, lashin’, punched hard,

  Till I found a weapon, a handy strong stone.

  His blood and brains violated my dress,

  The whites of my silk drank up his gore.

  But the damage be done, my soul is marred

  And I be a fair, pure maid no more.

  Now I walk the road, comin’ from Dawnlay,

  Hunting other ‘dogs’ that seek a maid’s hand

  I shall not rest, nor wait nor sleep,

  Till all those wolves are wiped from the land…

  The song ended before the driver noticed Reeva’s outstretched thumb. The driver pulled the reins on her ox, which halted the animal.

  For a moment, no one moved. Not the driver, not the trio, nor the ox.

  “Hello there,” Reeva waved pleasantly enough.

  The driver said nothing; she only stared.

  Reeva looked over her shoulder to her friends, who both shrugged. Reeva sighed and turned back to the driver. “We were wondering if it is possible that you could help us?”

  The driver let go of her reins and sat back in her cart’s driving stool.

  “What’s the issue that you need me to help, friend?” Her accent was heavy, a thick Westerly tone that situated her in the frontier towns near the Tashiishan border. And how she said ‘friend’, meant it was anything but.

  “Well…” Reeva rubbed the back of her head as she stepped closer to the driver. “That’s something that is sort of our business. We have to reach the Capital sooner rather than later, you see. And we can’t get there on time just by walking.”

  “Which would mean a cart would be ta ya likin’?” The driver assumed.

  “Yes.”

  “And seeing the looks of your friends, you don’t wanna ta be snatched by the guards at the city gates, eh?”

  Reeva blinked. “That’s… actually very accurate. Yeah.”

  “Uh-huh…” The driver turned in her seat and leant over to get something from her cart.

  When she turned back to face Reeva and the others, her eyes grew cold with focus as she revealed a loaded crossbow in her hands and aimed it directly at Reeva’s head.

  Reeva froze in her steps. Both Arcos and Boras started towards the driver, hands twitching towards their weapons, Boras's axes and Arcos's dagger respectively.

  “You want her ta die first, please keep on walking at me.” The driver growled.

  Arcos and Boras stopped dead, but they kept a hold of their sheathed weapons. Reeva did not move an inch.

  The driver stood from her cart and expertly jumped to the ground, without letting the bolt loose nor taking its aiming notch off Reeva. That only spoke of this woman’s extensive experience with the crossbow.

  “Y’have any idea how many times I get stopped on this road by people who be claiming that they need help in some way? Whether it’d be me money, me cart, me food, me ox Billy here?” She slapped the ox’s thick neck, to which the ox billowed a low moo. “I’ve heard them all… So go on, spin me a yarn, girl. Gimme a reason that can beat all the other so-called reasons that didn’t save them bandits from me bolts or me steel…”

  “We’re not bandits!” Arcos snarled. “We just need help!”

  “Yeah…” the driver said with no real conviction. “I heard that one, lad.”

  “Look, why don’t you just get back on your cart and head on ahead of us?” Boras reasoned. “No need to be bloody…”

  “Right, I could…” The driver grimaced. “But I can bet I’ll just meet your friends further down the road and they’ll try me. Or you’ll just go and hurt the next traveller. Nah, best I finish it here.”

  “For fuck sake!” Arcos snapped. “We’re not bandits!”

  “Guys!” Reeva shouted. “Shut up. Let me talk.”

  Boras and Arcos stared at her. Reeva took a deep breath and looked to the driver. “That song you were singing…” she noted. “I know it.”

  “I reckon ya would.” The driver, still aiming her crossbow at Reeva, gave her a look-over. “Easterner… Ya’re a long way from your Islands.”

  “Yeah… But that song. It’s called The Wolfsbane Maid.”

  “Ya know the songs, unsurprising for your people.” The driver stopped a few steps before Reeva, crossbow still raised. “Ya know its meaning?”

  “Don’t trust strangers.”

  “That’s right. Ya know the real story behind it?”

  “I do. It was a real girl that was travelling from her home to some other place. She came across a wounded man, not a wolf. She stopped to help the man, but the man attacked her. He wasn’t actually injured. He wanted to rob her. Then he wanted to kill her. Do worse to her afterwards… He nearly did, but she caved in his head with a stone as she fought him. She killed him, but she was broken by the experience. She swore to never trust people again and swore to hunt down all the ‘wolves’ she could find. It was one of my favourite songs as a child, at least as much as I can remember growing up… I wanted to be like that maiden. I wanted to hunt down those wolves.”

  The driver listened to Reeva’s retelling of the story without moving a muscle. But by the time Reeva was done, the driver had lowered the crossbow a tad. She tipped back her hat so she could study Reeva’s face fully now, as she did with the driver in turn.

  The driver had greying brunette hair, tied back into a long and thick braid that wrapped around her neck like a makeshift scarf. Her brown eyes were dulled by age, but held a spark of hardness that also came with age. Her skin was stretched and marked with plenty of wrinkles.

  “Ya’ve killed some wolves already, huh?” The driver assumed as she stared into Reeva’s eyes.

  Reeva nodded slowly. “As have you.”

  The driver made a ghost of a smile. “In more ways than one…” She allowed her crossbow to hang by her side as she took out the bolt. She unhooked the twine and gently realigned the bow to its relaxed state. She then slung the crossbow over her shoulder, tossed the bolt into her cart, and crossed her arms. “So… ya’ve killed a few too many wolves and ya’re… what? Running from the rest of them?”

  “The opposite.” Boras said, as he stepped up beside Reeva. “We’re going after the rest of them. They have our friends and we’re taking them back.”

  Arcos spoke up. “And if they get in our way, we’re killing them too.”

  “Alright…” The driver said after a moment’s rumination. She turned around and headed back towards her cart. She was halfway climbing up to her spot when she noticed the trio remaining where they stood, watching her. “So? Ya coming or not?”

  The trio looked at eachother.

  “Well?” Reeva said. “Shall we?”

  “What?” Boras whispered. “You’re really going to trust her? Just after she threatened to kill you, Reeva? And us for good measure?”

  “I’m not saying we trust her.” Reeva argued. “We’re just hitching a ride till we get into the city.”

  “I don’t like this…” Boras hissed. “She’s too comfortable meeting perfect strangers on the road. Alone like that as well. No one should be so relaxed. She’s up to something.”

  “Care to explain to me what part of her aiming her crossbow at us was relaxed?” Reeva asked with a wry smile. “She has every right to be wary of us. Bandits are common here.”

  “Oh gods!” Boras threw up his hands. “You know what I mean.” He looked to Arcos. “Mate, you’ve got to agree with me. We should just take our chances by ourselves.”

  Arcos looked at his friends, then at the driver and finally the length of road still left untravelled ahead of them. “We haven’t time and not much of a choice. We have to get into the city. Better part of a group with someone who looks like a merchant. We can act as her hired guards.”

  Boras blinked at Arcos. Then at Reeva. But they were resolute. So Boras upturned his hands and sighed heavily. “Oh what the hells… Leap of faith, I suppose.”

  “Come on, Boras!” Reeva gave a short laugh. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “It’s been replaced by my common sense.” Boras retorted under his breath as they all headed for the cart.

  Reeva stopped by the cart and looked up at the driver. “We would like to join you. If that’s alright?”

  “Sure.” The driver replied with a nod. “Just need ta make some room in the back.”

  She stood up and stepped over into the back of the high cart. The cart itself was tall, with its wooden walls reaching just over the heads of the trio. The cart’s wheels were half the height of a man and designed to bear great weight, as expected from a cart bearing cargo. The driver lifted her legs over things in the cart, careful not to trip as she reached the back gate. She unhitched the gate and it swung downwards as she pulled off a heavy cloth tarpaulin, revealing the cargo to the trio.

  What they saw unnerved them.

  Bodies. Two piles that lay on both sides of the cart. Men, mostly. Their skin was greying and pallid, dead for perhaps a few days to a week. Some were dressed in travelling clothes and others in light armour. Their wounds spoke of crossbow bolts and sword slashes. There were perhaps ten corpses on the whole cart.

  The trio stared in morbid shock. They then turned their shocked stares to the driver.

  “It’s a sight…” She admitted. “Don’ worry. They’re all bad people. Bandits, rapers, murderers, all of ‘em.” The driver turned and picked up a leather satchel with a flap-over. She tossed it to Reeva. Reeva absentmindedly caught it and opened the bag. Inside were a bunch of papers. Boras took out one of them and found it to be a printed wanted poster with an etched drawing of a man’s face and his name and an amount of money for him dead or alive. Boras noted that amongst the dead men, there was a man that matched the paper’s drawing.

  “You’re a bounty hunter.” Arcos confirmed to her, to which the driver nodded.

  “Yeah. Been busier than usual these days, which is a good thing for me. Lemme just…” The bounty hunter stepped around the bodies and started pushing them around so that they were not in the way. She went about this with as much bother as if she were shifting wares on a shop. This revealed two wooden crates situated in the front corners of the cart with filled bags of supplies tied up with twine and a scattered pile of discarded weapons strewn around the cart’s floor.

  “Ya can sit on the crates, if ya’d like. Mind the weapons, don’t wanna ta get cut up by those, let me tell ya.”

  The trio exchanged another look. Reeva looked very much like she was regretting ever asking for help. Boras looked set on running for his life. And Arcos was half thinking of fighting this woman right here and now. But seeing as no one was going to speak up about this turn of events, Arcos did. “My friends are a little unnerved by this, you understand.”

  “Yeah…” the bounty hunter nodded with a remorseful look in her eyes. “I get that response often. If ya don’t want ta-”

  “It’s not that. We just don’t want to end up in that pile by the end of the day.”

  “Have ya hurt people intentionally?” She asked matter-of-factly. “Murdered in cold blood or robbed from people who can’t defend themselves?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Then you have nothing to fear from me until you do. Hop on. And close the gate behind you, I don’t want to waste time retrieving any fallen quarry.”

  The driver headed back to her seat and settled in.

  The trio - with great hesitation - climbed up into the cart. Boras could not take his eyes off the bodies. He was morbidly fascinated by this utter lack of respect for life. Had it not been for the hangings in Silverstreak, he would have certainly reacted more violently. But they were getting desensitised by the violence they had already seen on a near-daily basis.

  After locking up the gate and pulling the tarp over the bodies, the trio settled on the crates and the bounty hunter hitched her reins. Billy groaned and began to pull away once more, trundling down the road.

  Half an hour passed. Reeva, Boras, and Arcos were still silent and understandably wary of their new travelling companion, no matter how welcoming she acted.

  Arcos kept his eyes locked on the back of her head and his fingers never strayed too far from the sheathed swallowblades inside his cloak.

  Boras had the unpleasant luck of being the closest to the body pile. With every bump and pothole that the cart suffered on the road, a corpse would roll a tad too close to the trio, which Boras realised was his temporary role to push said corpse back into the charnel hill. He shuddered as his hands pushed against the cold, clammy flesh. It was a task he did not relish.

  Reeva was the silently volunteered spokesperson between them.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Thank you for this… What’s your name?” She eventually asked of the bounty hunter.

  “No names.” The driver responded curtly. “I’d imagine you won’t want me ta know yours.”

  “That’s fair.” Reeva agreed. “I just wanted you to know that we’re grateful for this.”

  “Quite alright.” The bounty hunter scratched the back of her neck. “You can call me by my profession name: Catcher. Should be nondescript enough?”

  “It is, actually.” Reeva nodded. She hadn’t thought of that. It was a perfect way to hide their identities from anyone looking for them. How could a Baron or Bodyhunter find herself, Boras or Arcos amidst a hundred or a thousand Cutters, Blades or Braiders? Why hadn’t they thought of this before? Stupid of them, really… “Mine’s Braider. This is Blade and Cutter.” She pointed to them in turn.

  “Greetings.” Catcher said.

  “We don’t have money to pay you with for your trouble, so if you need some help when you get to the city…” Reeva suggested, but Catcher waved off the request.

  “Leave it at that, Braider. It feels good ta help for the sake of helping.”

  “Huh… That’s something we don’t see often.” Reeva replied.

  “Indeed.” Catcher nodded.

  The conversation finished there as they continued down the road, following its southeasterly way towards the capital. Arcos knew that they were heading in the right direction as he began to recognise the telltale signs of the locale around him when he made his previous journey north on this very same road. Two villages were nestled on the side of the main road after they had crossed the Corikyne, though they did not stop by as time was precious to them. Arcos could also hear the rapid waters of Dargan’s Arrow, an aptly named river that extended from the curve of the Corikyne in two jutting tributaries with a main riverway formed in its centre, making the arrow form. It was running parallel with the road. He looked out towards the river that ran along their right. He could see a fishing barge with its sails unfurled, helping the barge to glide gracefully up the river’s current.

  “Anyways, ya need ta get inta Fennaposia.” Carter asked after a period of content silence. “What for?”

  Reeva replied on cue. “We’re trying to find a guild there. It’s called the Waywards, you know it?”

  Catcher barked a laugh. “Oh sure, I know it! They’re a proper bunch of brawlers. Rambunctious louts with soft hearts. Didn’t suit my cup of coffee. But they’re alright. Yeah, I’ll show ya the way. Ya thinking of applyin’ with them?”“That’s the plan.” Arcos said. “Good enough?”

  “It’s a good start to getting some coin, since ya say ya have none.” Catcher adjusted her hat to avoid a sudden burst of sunlight that peeked through some large clouds. “Plenty of work, as I said.”

  “How come? What’ve you heard?” Reeva asked.

  Catcher leant back in her seat and looked over her shoulder towards Reeva, whilst keeping one eye on the road ahead.

  “Plenty… There’s whispers of a rebellion, I’m sure ya’ve heard. A few groups of bandits formed of angry peasants here and there. Some that aren’t organised, that just go around demanding taxes and building up their weapons. Those ones get crushed quick by the Barons’ Fist or a couple of Bodyhunters. The last half year’s seen a lot more of them popping up here and there. But there’s a group out there, a group that hasn’t been nabbed yet. They don’t even have a name, which makes it hard to track them. They keep striking at supply trains going between the cities on the coast and through the Plains. Sometimes there’s an arson attack, a barracks of Baron soldiers gets burned down. But it’s never consistent, see? They strike where ya don’t expect them. And now, there’s a big rumour floating around that this group are proper rebels… Proper Royalists.”

  Reeva raised her eyebrows in surprise. Royalists? After all this time? Impossible.

  “Royalists?” She asked. “What for? There hasn’t been a Royal for years. They all died, didn’t they?”

  “Aha…” Catcher smirked. “That’s what I thought. But I heard it from the Waywards themselves, see. They do a lot of mercenary work for the merchants in these parts, and they have it on good authority that these Royalists believe that someone from the Royal Family is still alive.”

  “No bloody way.” Arcos shook his head. “Not a chance, the Barons wouldn’t let that happen.”

  “That’s what I think.” Catcher said. “But if these rebels think that someone from the Royal Family is alive and believe it that much… who’s ta say they’re wrong?” She turned from the trio and focused on the road.

  “No wonder the Barons have been cracking down on anyone standing up to them.” Reeva spoke to her friends with excitement. “If that’s true… It could change everything. A couple of rebels would be the least of their problems.”

  “That doesn’t matter to us, though.” Arcos replied with a steely tone. “We have more urgent things to take care of.”

  “Agreed.” Boras nodded. “I don’t want to get involved with shit that mad. We’re deep enough in it already.”

  “In any case, the Waywards will be happy ta have ya.” Catcher concluded. “Be sure ta give them my best when ya meet them.”

  On foot, it would have taken the trio another day and a half of walking to reach the city. But on Catcher’s cart, it was within the day as the sun was completing its descent when Fennaposia’s walls rose over the cusp of the hill that the road had ascended.

  “There she is,” Catcher announced as she pointed straight ahead. “Fennaposia.”

  The Western Wall was higher than before, as far as Arcos could remember from the last year. He could pick out wooden scaffolding at the parapets, with figures moving around the stonework and chipping away with tools. A flock of seagulls fluttered over the parapets, laughing and cawing as they swung back and forth over the workers.

  The Western Road, as they neared the Wall, was joined by other roads stretching from the North and the South. Some of the roads curved around the Wall from both quadrants, while other smaller routes not as defined appeared in close proximity.

  On these roads were fellow travellers. Some walking with travelling bags over their shoulders and hiking poles supporting their weary feet. Others drove carts like Catcher or rode in on horseback in smaller groups or convoys.

  What surprised Arcos and the others were the multitude of tents pitched up outside the city’s walls. They were set up on both sides of the Western Road, in clusters of fives or tens, all surrounding large campfires. People came and went in and out of these tents, busy with their day-to-day tasks. Dogs and other domesticated animals lazily slept in areas, unsupervised children ran about being themselves. Scents of cooking emanated from the tops of the larger tents, cooked meats or fish with vegetables and smoking hot oil. There were dozens upon dozens of these camps, which meant there were hundreds, if not thousands, of people just languishing outside the walls. Abandoned, ignored and unprotected.

  “What’s happened here?” Reeva asked as she witnessed a pair of dirtied young children in rags looking up at her when their cart passed by.

  “New policy, just passed a few days ago,” Catcher explained as she directed the cart through the camps. “Ya hear about that Child Snatcher Scandal?”

  Reeva and Boras both glanced at Arcos, fully remembering the details of how he and Tilda had met. “We’ve heard something of that, yeah,” Boras answered. “What about it?”

  “Yeah, that caused some big upheavals round here. A whole bunch of folks got jail time or killed by angry parents of family members. It was rough, vicious riots and everything. The Barons’ Fist and even Fosto’s Smiters got called in, put down the chaos, and called in a curfew. I tell ya, streets weren’t fit ta be on. It was bad enough at night, but the day was just as mad and bad.”

  “So? A curfew is fine, but that shouldn’t keep these people out.” Boras grimaced as he snatched a view of a man cooking three squirrels on a spit. The man was grinning with excitement over his meal.

  “It was the curfew that started it,” Catcher explained. “The curfew was supposed to protect the kids from the diddlers. But somehow the idea came ta the Barons about the people coming into the city. Now ya have ta get special permission ta be let in and out. The curfew’s become a full-on lockdown. These people have to stay out here. But not me.” Catcher fished a hand into her skirt and pulled out something golden. She handed it to Reeva.

  Reeva took the gold and examined it. It was a pin-on circular medal of some kind. It had an embossed sigil of a capital B with a sword puncturing down into it. “This gets you in?” She asked.

  “Yeah,” Catcher replied as she took back the medal and pinned it back onto her shirt. “No way these people are getting one of these for a while. It’s not like the Barons have a generous regard for giving up gold to anybody.”

  “So how are you supposed to get one?”

  “Ya pay off the right person, ya da someone else a favour - no matter how degrading it is - or ya wait till ya are proven ta be a ‘true servant’ of the Barons like I did. Till then, they’re stuck here.”

  “That’s fucked up.” Boras shook his head. “What if it rains? What if a beast comes by? Bandits? How are they supposed to protect themselves?”

  Catcher simply shrugged. “Look, if I had a million gold pieces in my bank account, I’d help. I’d buy them all medals… But I just have the money I have on me. I was lucky enough to have a profession that I’m good at. These people don’t. Anyhow, hush up. We’re nearing the gate. Reeva, sit up next to me. Ya lads stay in the back. Remain calm and steady.”

  Sure enough, the Western Gate came before them. The great iron-wrought doors were only ajar by a mere two to three metres, just wide enough to allow a cart passage. A line of guards stood abreast of the entrance, spears and shields on hand.

  Seated at an unfolded wooden table with a quill, ink pot, and a stack of papers was a solitary soldier. A lieutenant, judging by the brass pin stuck onto his uniform’s sleeve; a twin pair of swords crossing eachother into an X.

  This lieutenant had a pinched look on his face, as if he wore an invisible necklace that stank of rotted cheese and had to contend with the eternal smell daily. Standing in a somewhat orderly queue before him were a slew of weary travellers, dirty and disheveled. They all had papers with them, documents in crumpled piles in shaking hands as they all waited for their turn with the officer. The officer coughed harshly as he took paper after paper from each applicant and poured over the papers with a meticulous manner.

  He was like a monkey searching for ticks in a fellow kin’s fur. His wrinkled face, his overtly magnified eyes due to his glasses, and his receding hairline did not help Arcos to dissuade from that comparison.

  And it was just as much to be expected when this man pushed the papers back towards the person in question and motioned them aside with a single wave of the hand before jotting down their name into a large leather-bound book on his table.

  “Your name and profession have been noted and will be reviewed by the Customs and Immigrants Branch. Please wait till your name has been called out tomorrow morning. Next!” He said sourly before snapping his fingers and signalling the next traveller to come forth.

  The previous traveller was moved aside and sent back to the camp with a look of dejected hopelessness.

  “If he had a medal…” Catcher sighed. “He’d be in, with or without papers.”

  This cycle repeated as Catcher’s cart waited in the line. There were some acceptances and a select number of relieved participants were allowed to scurry through the gate. But most were rejected, told the very same excuse as the first. By the time Catcher’s cart reached the front of the line, the sun was setting into a deep red and orange. Boras had decided to rest his eyes and nodded off, resting his head on a bag of flour. Reeva and Arcos stayed up to keep Catcher company and stay alert to any changes.

  Reeva watched her friend as they had waited. Arcos was a tense pile of nerves. His jaw was tense and his eyes flitted about to take in the amount of soldiers that guarded the gate. She also noted that he was scanning the camps and studying the faces of the people that watched them. She reached over and took his fist. She squeezed.

  “Ease up,” she advised him. Arcos blinked and let out a held breath.

  “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just… I haven’t been back here for so long.”

  “I can only imagine how hard it was. I mean… I’m sorry you had to come back.”

  “Thanks.”

  But before anymore could be said, a bell rang out shrilly from the top of the gate. Suddenly, the soldiers guarding the gate rushed forward and moved around and past Catcher’s cart. Reeva and Arcos snapped to attention whilst Boras was startled awake by the sudden noise.

  The trio watched as the soldiers formed a wall of shields and spears against the queue that had formed behind their cart, forcing the people backwards.

  “Curfew!” came a man’s voice from the gate’s battlements. “Curfew in effect!”

  “Back!” Soldiers in the line barked as they levelled their spears at the people. “Back!” Some people in the crowd shouted obscenities in shock but stumbled back all the same.

  The trio looked back to Catcher for answers as she rubbed sweat from her forehead. “That was close. A minute later and we would have had ta wait till tomorrow.”

  “Now what?” Arcos asked as he fought to keep his anxiety under control.

  “Just let me talk. Come on now.” Catcher clicked her tongue at Billy to get him moving.

  The lieutenant was in the process of packing his journal and quill when he noticed the cart trundling towards him. He rolled his eyes, but set down his work back on the table. He then pulled out a silver pocket-watch affixed to a chain from his breast pocket. He checked the time.

  “Cutting it a bit fine, Catcher?” He pointed out.

  “Sorry for that, Lancer.” Catcher tapped the front right cartwheel with her knuckle. “Had a busted wheel a couple of miles back, had ta get the guys ta help me shore up my spare.”

  “I see.” Lieutenant Lancer pushed his glasses back up his nose as he approached the cart with an upturned nose. He was careful to give Billy a wide berth, regarding the ox with some distrust which alluded to a past mired by misfortune with the great beast. He ignored the trio in the cart as he moved towards the back of the cart and pulled off the tarp. Upon seeing the bodies, Lancer gave Catcher a small nod. “Quite a haul.” He noted. “Aye.” Catcher snapped her fingers at Boras. “Cutter, give the lieutenant the bag.” Boras blinked, unprepared to be involved. “Huh? Oh, yeah, that bag. Sure.”

  Boras leant over and handed Catcher’s satchel to Lancer. Lancer again did not see the trio as he took the satchel and pulled out the wanted posters. He threw the empty satchel back to Boras as he quickly thumbed through the drawn faces and comparing them to the dead faces in the cadaver pile. Seemingly content with the count, he handed the posters to Arcos this time as he walked around the cart to talk with Catcher.

  “Where will you be taking this lot?” He asked.

  “Doctor Hacker’ll be needing bodies for his lectures at the university. And the farmers could use some fresh pig slop.” Catcher made a grimaced look. “Not exactly my best day spent, but I’ll get paid.”

  Lancer spat at the ground. “Cadaver lectures… It’s barbaric. Utterly unethical. That man deserves to be strung up. Anyway, your medal?”

  Catcher lifted her cloak to flash her medal. “Here, as always. See ya around, Lancer.”

  “Hold it.” Lancer raised a hand. “Who are they?” He finally pointed out the trio who had remained silent as Catcher had requested. The trio froze. Some of the soldiers in their formation turned their heads towards the cart. Catcher remained calm.

  “Oh, they’re my helpers.” Catcher waved them off. “I bring 'em with me on my hunts when I get an order too big ta fulfil.”

  “You didn’t leave this city with them last week.” Lancer replied.

  “They live outside the city.” Catcher explained readily. “They’re county folk, like me. Oi Lancer, I can vouch for them. You can’t expect me to haul all these bodies on my own, eh? I’ll need help.”

  “Do they have medals?” Lancer asked with a sharpness edging into his voice. He started at each of their faces. Boras swallowed his spit. Arcos, shaking hands, rested near his hidden daggers. Reeva attempted to embody a statue.

  “No.” Catcher answered truthfully. Her composure remained unbroken. “But seeing as they’re only with me for a couple of days before I 'ead back out, should i' matter?” And with that, Catcher gently kicked her seat with the heel of her boot. The gentle tap caused a hidden door to fall open, revealing a small cloth bag tied with thread. Lancer’s eyes blinked as he saw the bag. He took it out of the hidden compartment and checked its contents. The bag made a clinking sound. He blinked a few times before looking back up at Catcher, who was watching him expectantly.

  “So?” Catcher asked politely. “All good, are they allowed inside?”

  “……Yes.” Lancer said after a moment’s contemplation. He put the bag into his jacket. “Consider this their temporary day’s pass. You better get their medals before tomorrow’s curfew.”

  “Sure, sure.” Catcher lied.

  “And this is the last time I’m letting you through this close to the hour, I swear to the gods, Catcher. Next time, you wait like everyone else.”

  “Uh-huh.” Catcher nodded. “See ya round, Lancer.” She waved in the air as Billy pulled the cart in towards the gate’s entrance. The trio turned to watch the soldiers making a slow but steady retreat towards the gate as Lancer called out for the gate to be closed. The aggravated complaints from the waiting populace were drowned out by the heavy grinding moans of the gate as it was shut with an almighty clang.

  Inside, Reeva sank in her seat beside Catcher. “Gods… I thought that was it.”

  Catcher patted her knee. “Told ya. All good from here on out.”

  “How much did you bribe him with?”

  “A couple of gold pieces. Guards like him make that in a week. So it’s a nice gesture. Can’t do that often though, he’ll hike up the price next time… he’s a greedy sod. Last time, I paid him in silver only.”

  The cart clattered under the Western Archway of the Gate, patrolled by a contingent of ten soldiers walking the gate’s way. They were watching the cart pass underneath, with helmeted visors showing none of their faces. Arcos watched them back with a solid glare.

  “Take it easy, Blade.” Catcher warned. “No need to give them a reason ta drag your arse out and kill ya outright.” She thumbed towards a small gathering forming outside a house nearby the gate’s arch. Two soldiers were in the process of dragging out a manacled woman from a kicked-in door. She was thrown to the ground with two men who were also manacled. The gathering crowd were onlookers, curious of the unfolding chaos.

  Catcher had the cart pulled onwards, so the trio were now able to see what happened to the manacled prisoners.

  “What did they do?” Boras asked.

  “No clue.” Catcher shrugged. “There isn’t much reason needed to be locked up nowadays. Just need ta look the wrong way at a Fist soldier or a Bodyhunter or any of the other groups working for the Barons… then it’s the clappers for ya. Those three could have been Royalist rebels, smugglers, thieves from rival gangs, conners… in the end, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Won’t that overpopulate the prison?” Boras followed up. “They can’t keep arresting people unless… they… make…more room…”

  He trailed off, realising the possible and gruesome solution to that logistical issue.

  Catcher’s look over her shoulder at him only confirmed his assumption.

  With that, the cart remained quiet as Catcher drove them along one of the main streets that connected the five boroughs of the Western Quarter, then cutting through the Residential District and Militant District which made up the city’s Central.

  Catcher explained that the mercenary guilds all resided in the Militant District by law. As they focused on fighting, it made logical sense to keep them there and close enough together to keep an eye on by any of the seven Barons’ spies. The Barons needed the guilds, but that did not mean that they trusted the soldiers of fortune. Hard to blame them for that. When you have a warrior whose loyalty lasted as long as you have coin in hand, there is not much to build on.

  Arcos noted the rusted sign with peeling white paint as they trundled down the main street. It was nailed to a brick wall that denoted the street, over the heads of the people walking quickly with their heads down. It read as ‘Malachi Avenue’.

  Both his cheeks twinged with a dull ache. He remembered that toad Malachi. He remembered how that Baron had carved the letter M in his skin with that knife. Arcos remembered the grin on his face. Unconsciously, he traced his fingers over one cheek. He could feel the faint bump on the scarring. The scarring that would never go away. Arcos gritted his teeth and pulled himself away from the sign before his impulse to rip that sign off the wall overwhelmed him.

  The trio watched the people of the city as the cart clattered over the cobblestones of the Residential District. And with each face, they could see the quiet desperation in their eyes. The fearful glances to the guards patrolling the streets. The way they would step out of the way of these guards and the cart passing them. None of them wanted to make trouble nor did they want trouble to find them. Arcos's fingers twitched. He shared a look with Reeva and Boras. Reeva nodded, understanding his thoughts. This. This was what they wanted to help with their skill learnt at the Guild. While the Guild hid away in self-imposed exile, the people suffered in silent misery. How could they stay silent and do nothing? Especially after what they’d already seen?

  “Hold up.” Catcher said suddenly, pulling the reins tightly and stopping Billy in his tracks. The trio snapped their heads forward, looking in her direction. Ahead of them was a crossroad, with their street cut across by another. Moving along that street and into their line of sight were a group of soldiers of the Fist and two tall figures dressed in long black, high-collar overcoats and tricorn hats. A uniform quickly recognisable to the trio.

  “Bodyhunters…” Reeva hissed.

  Catcher glanced to her. “Familiar ta ya?”

  Reeva nodded.

  They watched the Fist soldiers and the Bodyhunters stop and take a turn. Down the street the cart was on and right towards them.

  Arcos seized up, hands instantly latching onto his daggers. Boras made a quick jerk of his head towards their rear to see if they were being followed. Reeva remained still. Catcher, sensing the shift of emotions in the cart, sighed deeply and slowly.

  “Easy… Hold fast…” she commanded.

  The Fist and their two hunters moved with a sure purpose, like a mass of ants clumped together. The city folk immediately turned away from the oncoming squadron. Some moved quickly indoors while others just turned in the opposite direction and ran. The cart, seeing as the street could not allow for such manoeuvrability, was forced to remain still.

  The cart’s occupants watched in silence as the soldiers drew closer and closer. The Bodyhunters, with their faces darkened by the shadow of their hats, stared ahead with seemingly emotionless expressions.

  They reached the cart. And did not stop. They instead parted into two groups and filed around the cart. The soldiers seemed to ignore the cart and the people in it.

  But the Bodyhunters stared at them.

  At Catcher, Reeva, Boras, and Arcos. Studying them, sensing for any weakness or fear or defiance.

  No one, not the cart’s occupants nor the soldiers nor Bodyhunters, said a single word or made a single sound. And as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone.

  The cart remained there for a moment. Catcher leant forward to take up her reins. Reeva noticed how much the bounty hunter’s hands shook.

  As she lashed the reins to get Billy moving, Catcher shuddered. “Gods… I bloody hate Bodyhunters…”

  “Look. Here’s where you need ta be.”

  Ten minutes later, Catcher pointed towards a side street that veered off to the left of the main square that was the centrepiece of the Militant District. The street lanterns were already lit up, giving off orange, unearthly glows against the narrow walls of the streets and alleys. The street that Catcher pointed them towards was narrower than the others. It was definitely more alley than street.

  “Go down there, keep on straight. Avoid the turnings and you’ll see a crimson lantern and the sign hanging underneath it. Four claw marks. That’d be the Waywards's sigil.”

  They jumped down from the cart. Reeva turned and shook Catcher’s hand.

  “Thank you for getting us here.” She said with a smile.

  Catcher waved her hand after shaking Reeva’s. “Ya welcome. Look, I believe in debts. If I need help, I’m sure ya’ll help a girl out. I hope ya find what ya’re lookin’ for in this city. Not many do. Best of luck ta ya.”

  Catcher lashed the reins once again and off she went, trundling into the night.

  The trio watched the woman go, until she faded from their sight.

  “Alright.” Arcos nodded with a turn of his heel. He pointed to the street of orange lights. “Shall we?”

  Walking down the narrow side-street which quickly turned into an alley was more unnerving than any other alley they had imagined. The walls on either side seemed to loom over them. The night sky was a jet black now, with no stars.

  And the air felt close and tight. Too often did one of the trio look over their shoulder to make sure no one was following them.

  They followed Catcher’s instructions though and did not make a turn. They pushed on, keeping their eyes open for the crimson light. And after what seemed like an hour of walking, there was a slowly growing glare of deep red amidst the orange glows.

  They arrived at the door of the crimson light. The crimson light itself was a glass lantern with a thick-set candle lit up. The claret colour was due to the window panes of the lantern. The door it hung over was an iron wrought door, not unlike the gates of the city. A steel knocker, which took the shape of a clawed fist, hung in the centre. The wooden sign hung beside the lantern. It had a painting of four black claw marks, gashing across the panel.

  Arcos took the knocker and allowed it to drop against the door once. It made a silence-cracking clang that echoed across the alley.

  After a moment, they could hear shuffling feet and a panel, which was hidden against the black iron, slide open from the inside and a pair of faded purple eyes with deep dark circles underneath them peered from the opening.

  “What?” Came the croaking voice of an old woman. “What’s the password?”

  The trio exchanged looks, unsure of what to say. Elder Lowan had given them the directions for the Waywards and a secret box for their leader. But a password wasn’t mentioned.

  “Uhh…” Boras spoke. “We wanted to apply for positions here.”

  There was a pause. “Uh huh.” The tired eyes replied finally. They blinked a couple of times at the trio. “I suppose you don’t look like peasants.”

  “We aren’t.” Boras confirmed.

  “We know how to fight.” Arcos supported.

  The tired eyes paused again. Then they flicked towards Reeva. “You,” she said. “You have a reliable look about you. You keep those boys on their straights and narrows and maybe my lads won’t throw you back out into the gutter you’re currently standing in.”

  Boras made a quick glance down and groaned in disgust. The purple-eyed woman was right.

  They really were standing in a gutter.

  Something dark brown and black and smelling with no goodness at all pooled under and around his boots. He fought the urge not to vomit.

  Reeva barked a laugh. “I’ll do my best!”

  The tired eyes nodded and slid the panel shut. Inside, they could hear bolts being pulled back and keys jangling against one another. A final clunk and a final click preceded the door swinging outwards.

  Standing before them and holding a lit iron oil lantern by its top handle was a tall and wiry older woman with greying black hair. She was dressed in simple clothes and a working dress with sandals. But she had brass rings on all her fingers and thumbs, and brass bangles on her biceps, tightly securing her sleeves to her arms. She also had scars, some on her hands and one gash that slid down from the right eye to her lip’s corner. She had the look of a fighter. Reeva had no doubt this woman could even challenge the imposing Sister Valari to a brawl and maybe win…

  She looked down at the trio. She then glanced up and down the alley, searching to see if they were alone. And once she was satisfied, she nodded once.

  “All right. Welcome to The Four Claws Tavern. Come on.” She turned with the oil lantern and brightened a way down a short entrance hall.

  Inside, the trio followed the woman, walking past a few oil paintings of landscapes, buildings, and wildlife that adorned both the high walls. “Is this your building?” Boras asked.

  “Nah.” The woman waved at the paintings. “We were looking for a new base for work. Then that whole child sex scandal blew up, and the merchant who owned this place got chased out of the city. Or killed. Rumours vary here and there… If he stayed, he would’ve been strung up. If he’s dead, then… well, he’s dead. We got this soon after. The Boss was mighty pleased with himself when he found out.”

  They turned the corner to reach a closed door with lines of firelight pushing around the borders of the entrance. The woman took hold of the door handle and pushed in.

  It was a great room with a ceiling double the height of that of the entrance hall. The ceiling itself was supported by wooden pillars that rose from the marble floor upwards and marched off at their tips with many support beams that criss-crossed across the ceiling. It was surprising to the trio just how large the room was. Perhaps the neighbouring buildings linked up with the one they had entered. They could only assume. Before them were numerous long oak tables that stretched from their side to the other, with several benches placed askew or in line to each table.

  Sat on these tables were some men and women, all dressed in travel gear and light armour. Some wore plated armour, others had chainmail. There were even a few men with not much on at all, a few sets of clothes, and that was all. A few wore facial and limb tattoos, reminiscent of Sister Valari’s Tashiishan designs.

  And most of them were armed. Axes, swords, spears, hammers, daggers, crossbows, bows, and other weapons that were so exotic that the trio had never seen them in the Guild before.

  They were all drinking from tall tankards or glasses of wine. Plates of food piled high lined the tables. Steaming fish, cooked pork, roasted lamb, fried chicken, barbecued beef. Bowls of vegetables were placed between the plates of meats and fish. The numerous amount of food was truly astounding, and the people at the tables did not show much sign of stopping their dinner.

  The walls of this greeting eating cavern held more paintings like those in the entrance. But there were also decorative weapons and suits of armour, hung from large wood panels and labelled with embossed brass badges, detailing their origin. Providing the light were four large fire hearths, two on each side, flaring great flames that ate the wood just as greedily as the patrons they warmed. A few oil lanterns hung from the ceiling, giving off more light required to fill in the large space. And in the background, music flowed from a musical duo, playing with two wooden hurdy-gurdies.

  When the trio entered, the two musicians slowed their playing to a stop, and all the patrons of the eating hall paused their revelry to turn in their seats to face the newcomers.

  Boras leaned over to Arcos and Reeva. “I hope this will be a pleasant encounter…” he murmured.

  The woman looked back at them. “Well? You coming in?”

  “Yes.” Arcos said with a sure nod.

  The woman nodded and turned back to the group. “Boss?” She called out. “New recruits for you!”

  “Alright, alright. Maraby, they’d better be a worthy batch since that last one you found me-” came a voice amongst the table. A man’s voice, Arcos noted. And familiar.

  There was movement amongst the middle table as a man rose from the row of patrons. He was holding a cooked lamb chop and a tankard of ale in the other.

  Both that he dropped to a clatter on the floor when he locked his singular red eye on Arcos.

  Arcos stared back, equally flabbergasted.

  “You!” Both he and Torrance Carpenter exclaimed.