Chapter 208: The New Gal in Town

  Azure may have taken some liberties in the interpretation of his instructions by his sect elders—invite the ‘suspected’ pact breaker to the sect for questioning and protection. Azure, of course, did not actually expect any sort of cooperation from someone who was alleged to be a pactbreaker, true or not, and thus opted for the more forceful and more likely to succeed option: Capture and retrieval.

  Criminals or falsely accused criminals of any sort, especially those with magic, were highly unlikely to submit themselves to voluntary questioning. Those associated with The Agency would return to The Agency, which would protect them from any crimes and accusations, and the self-sovereign citizens of the Farside would not submit themselves to any sort of authority willingly. Those that had, were already part of a faction.

  Azure had taken liberties, because his sect elders were, politely said, distant. Impolitely: they were out-of-touch.

  That was not to say that winning this duel against the accused pact breaker was easy, and he was starting to think that a more diplomatic approach may have been the better option in this specific case. An exception, rather than the norm: his original assessment had not been faulty, although it may have been…hasty.

  And perhaps also motivated by his other vices, such as his competitive nature and desire to fight. Her swordsmanship had been entirely unknown, belonging to no sect nor origin-side martial art, nor was it a wholly undisciplined art of the improvisational.

  Azure had wanted a swordfight, but his sword of metal and flame rarely crashed against her stark blade of black. With every swing, it felt as if he had to cut through the air itself to reach his intended target. It felt as if his vision or sense of distance was off, subtly shifted, as if he were nauseous or inebriated, his perception and actions swimming unreliably.

  Her way of battle, he analyzed, found its roots in precision: in the exactness of her movements, in the smoothness of her swings, the transformation of his own energy against him, and the insufficiency of precision she forced upon her opponent. Any action she took worked towards several objectives—a movement helped guide her swing but also avoid his own, then set herself for a more advantageous position in the next moment. Or, similarly, that every action was a culmination of many smaller actions working in unison to achieve an objective.

  A strenuously effortful style that rewarded her in turn.

  Even as his chainsaw ripped through glowing gold swords in a shower of sparks, even as the blue flames of his swings still jumped to burn her robes, Azure felt the tide of the battle culminate ever in her favor. Another brick stacked against him in the foundation of her victory.

  Azure pushed and persisted, although he sensed this matchup was not in his favor. His ability set was powerful—flaming strikes of incredible power and variety and momentum paired with high speeds and aerial mastery. At bronze rank, he normally annihilated any of his opponents, unable to withstand his heavy flaming strikes striking down like a meteor to earth.

  Azure had been taught against the hubris of arrogance, and he had thought he was not one to fall into its trap. Many of his sect mates could still best him, and he was distinctly aware of his own weaknesses; his own will could persist, yet his abilities could not, too expensive to continually sustain. He had not wanted to kill his opponent either; he wanted to bring them into questioning, which prevented him from utilizing his power to its fullest extent—a concession his opponent did not have to make. Should he die, the pact breaker would remove his annoying insistence. Given her current skill, the common and disunified hunters of the Farside would likely prove undangerous.

  Thus, Azure also had to reserve enough resources should the pact breaker prove vicious.

  Even with these considerations, Azure could admit his loss was not undeserving. The pact breaker had proven unexpectedly skilled. He should’ve expected and it was his failing that he did not.

  ***

  “Do you yield?” Nara said, sword tip rested casually on his exposed skin, his combat robes long torn away. His metallic arms were scoured with long rips, the blood beneath seeping through. The Behemoth Beech towered over him, casting a shadow on his defeat.

  Azure gritted his teeth. The loss grated, but it had been fair. “I yield.”

  At least the pact breaker had agreed to accompany him to his elders.

  “I am your guest now, aren’t I?”

  There was an odd emphasis on guest, and he did not appreciate how smug she sounded. “You are,” he agreed, although he did not want to. He was honor-bound to treat her as a guest, and escort her to her requested destination.

  *****

  As promised, her lute was returned to her. She was happy to have one of her reliable partners back with her.

  The duel with Azure had been cathartic in many ways, and Nara wanted to bask in her victory—nothing against Azure, personally, but she really hadn’t so many opportunities to dunk on someone so thoroughly with her specialty. She refrained, if only because Azure looked like he might bust a blood vessel from high blood pressure if she were any smugger, mixed with the shame and sadness he tried to discretely hide that did make her pity him a bit. Which, good for him, meant she wouldn’t be more of an asshole than she had to be.

  He led her towards the Big Beech, slaying whatever monsters decided today was the day to challenge fate. While she could just teleport there—not something she wanted to reveal—and Azure could beam over there on a sword, traveling at high velocities in monster infested astral space was still begging to be picked off like a bird to a butterfly, so they all smartly refrained. Moreover, sky travel attracted far more attention from other—potentially Agency—prying eyes, and Nara had a feeling that Azure was trying to be somewhat discrete.

  In retrospect, she should’ve been unsurprised that there was a hidden town within the beech. It was obviously a landmark, and as an open world video game enthusiast, should’ve checked it more thoroughly. To her credit, Azure had to knock out a secret password on a very specific section of wood beneath some random branch before a section slid open, whose only distinguishing feature was a blue ribbon and soundless silver bell tied amidst the leaves.

  “What’s with the bell?”

  Azure remained silent.

  “I’m your guest aren’t I? Isn’t it rather rude to ignore me? Is this the way you treat your guests in your sect?” she needled.

  He heaved a sigh, frustrated and reluctant. “The soundless bell is the mark of our hidden outposts, sequestered away from the eyes of The Agency and their people. As one of their people, I should not be taking you here.”

  He shouldn’t have responded. Now Nara knew that annoyance worked against him.

  She could feel the concealment arrays woven into the trunk of the massive tree, protecting everything inside from detection. She wasn’t as practiced as Aliyah, but she could tell the protections were impressively thorough. It was integrated into the structure of the tree, a unique form of environment-based array design that Aliyah would have found intriguing.

  He fished a matching bell from the sleeve pocket of his robe. The ribbon of his bell was four-colored, gentle shimmering pastel colors of bluebird blue, cherry blossom pink, dandelion yellow, and an autumnal orange. It was embroidered with scenes that Nara suspected matched winter, spring, summer, and fall to match Azure’s sect. “Many Farsiders carry their own soundless bell. Their resonance alerts us to nearby bells. Soundless bells are divided by type, and personal bells will only resonate with impersonal bells, so as not to expose our own locations.”

  “Can I have one?”

  “No.”

  “Pretty pleaaaase?”

  “No.”

  “Fineeee. What are the other charms on your bell string?”

  On his four-colored ribbon were several other charms. It looked rather adorable, overall, like the phone keychains of the 2010s, except there weren’t any adorable character charms.

  “They have other purposes. It is not necessary information.”

  “Does your sect really keep their guests so ignorant? Leave them floundering, knowing nothing? Ah, I’m so weak and vulnerable, stumbling unknowing in the dark—”

  “There are too many purposes to explain!” he snapped. Nara had defeated him; the gall to call herself weak and vulnerable! He sighed and lifted the charm of an eight-petal flower, two petals of each color. “This is the charm of my sect. It will sound when my people are nearby.” Should he die, it would also ring across the charms of all sect members, and they would investigate and seek justice. It was not an uncommon effect of a faction charm, but an outsider had no need to know.

  He lifted another charm, a silver sword wreathed in blue flame. “This is my personal charm. I may offer it to another should I owe a favor.”

  “Do I get one as a guest?”

  “I do not owe you a favor,” he fiercely denied. He stored his charm ribbon back in his sleeve.

  Nara managed to wheedle out further that any additional charms, usually of lesser importance or less frequent use, were usually stored on a generic ribbon and kept in storage.

  As they proceeded down the narrow wood corridors carved through the branch of the tree, Nara heard the bustle of life before she saw it. Eventually, the glowing moss that lightened their steps shied away to hanging lanterns of a massive, multi-story main hall. A spiral staircase looped around the outer circumference of the hall—a long climb for anyone with business on the higher floors. Each floor only took up half of trunk space, with a massive drop for anyone that’d rather fly or drop down. Wooden elevated platforms shuttled slowly up and down the trunk, carrying anyone that couldn’t parkour or fly their way to the upper and lower levels. Each platform had a shoulder high railing; Nara didn’t pin the Farsiders as a people that cared much about safety, but perhaps there had been enough drunken tumbles over the edge that it was warranted. With the prevalence of a mid-floor bar, it was a likely guess.

  The people of the outpost were varied; around half wore typical modern clothing, T-shirts and shorts, jackets and jeans. The other half wore a wide variety of fantastical outfits, varying from the martial robes of Azure (and Nara, who happened to blend in); a western cowgirl wearing a Stetson, leather pants, and cowboy boots; a man in a full iron man suit; a woman in historical costuming of the Victorian era; a quite a few wearing stereotypical adventuring gear, warriors, wizards, and thieves alike.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  There were some people who may be different races; was this where all of them had ended up on Earth, too ostracized to live in modern society? Too many cameras and too few protections?

  Azure guided her over to the seat of a café on this level and pressed her shoulders down to sit her down.

  “Sit. Stay,” he ordered. “I must seek transportation to the lands of my sect.”

  “Is this how you treat the guests—” she said obnoxiously.

  “If you seek trouble, I will not rescue you,” he snapped.

  Perhaps she had been a tad too obnoxious. Oops.

  He continued his chastisement. “Your reputation, although potentially undeserved, is perilous, pact breaker. I suggest you keep your head down and stay out of trouble. For my guest’s own good.” With a brisk turn, he was off, robes billowing with his anger as he sought one who’d ferry them to the next leg of their destination, across the great Atlantic to the Asian continent.

  Nara settled back into her seat, idly observing the menu laid on the wood table as Sage casually eavesdropped. Bronze and iron rankers, mostly, she observed, with the odd silver ranker here and there. Azure’s aura was pure, free of cores, but most essence users here used a mixture of core and core-free progression. There were quite a few normal people, but the percentage of essence users was extremely high, but may be weighted because this was an outpost or waystation, rather than a proper Farside city.

  Sage’s reports streamed constantly to her consciousness, and she was able to dedicate half a mind to it, thanks to her bronze rank spirit attribute. There was an astral space aperture at the bottom of the tree, one hidden from the ASI on both sides. If Farsiders possessed origin-side currency, they used modern transportation methods to travel instead. Many Farsiders lived a double life, Earth and Farside, but many Farsiders were also born and raised with the astral space, called far-born (and origin-born for those born and raised on Earth).

  She took a real gander at the menu in her hands, rather than just pretending to look at it to blend in. The prices were surprisingly low, even for what amounted to the astral space boonies.

  “Why do you think that is, Sage?” she asked offhandedly.

  “Benefactor, I have not heard of the operation of any spirit coin farms, either Agency operated or Farside based, although my information is insufficient.”

  “Hmm...do you think that’s why nobody has any familiars? Or is it part of the culture to keep a tight leash on familiars?”

  “Benefactor, your comparison to pets is impolite.”

  “Sorry. Figure of speech.”

  “However, benefactor, if I must speculate, the reason may lie in what we have already discussed.”

  “The scarcity of spirit coins?”

  “The expense of a familiar summoning ritual is considerable for an independent iron ranker of Erras. Not ruinously so, but one must manage their finances carefully, especially in the event of multiple summoned familiars. You, benefactor, are non-representative.”

  “But if spirit coins are scarce but ritual costs have not changed...” she hedged.

  “Indeed, benefactor, the essence users of this world may consider awakening a familiar as financially ruinous, unless they are supported by an organization able to fund their costs, such as the ASI.”

  “Familiars are luxuries.” It was moderately true on Erras as well, although the odd familiar for a normal adventurer was still summonable, just after saving up the rewards of many contracts to pay the cost. Although, she knew that the Adventure Academy in Sanshi would often just pay for the first familiar summon, as it was relatively cheap at iron rank. Which well, corroborated what Sage was saying: the support of an organization.

  “Perhaps, benefactor. Familiars may also act as a symbol of status or wealth, however, I have not the information to confirm this conjecture.”

  “Mm, thanks, Sage.”

  She flagged down a waitress and ordered herself a nice lunch set from the menu. From the other side of this floor, a commotion caught her senses; Azure seemed to be accosted by an unsavory few, immediately evident by the aggression in their posture and spiteful expressions.

  “Huh,” Nara murmured, chin propped on her hand, enjoying the show, unfortunately popcorn-less. If she still had some snacks of Laius…ah! These would serve. She popped one in her mouth. “And he told me not to cause trouble.”

  *****

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Azure Blade,” a rude man swaggered up, dressed in a suit in a pantomime of a wealthy scion, but by the cut did not fit quite right: too large in the shoulders, too tight in the chest, too wide at the waist. He was posturing; Azure well knew he was no honorable hero. “I’ve heard some rumors, Bladey, that you’ve been on a quest to find the rumored pack breaker. Well? Did your ittle wittle mission to be the shining hero of justice succeed? Are you a pack breaker slayer now?”

  Fishing for information thinly disguised as provocation.

  “We don’t execute people on the mere suspicion of wrongdoing, Dylan.”

  “You don’t,” Dylan sneered. “Someone needs to keep order around here. You’re too weak minded to do it.” He stalked around Azure in a circle, hands in pockets in a mimicry of casual aggression. Azure noted his stance was full of vulnerabilities, unlike that frustrating pact breaker. “Adept Azure is so far from home, now why would that be. Did you fail your mission, hmmmm? Tucked your tail and running back home to cry to your elders?”

  The smart action, Azure knew, would be to lie and say he had failed his mission. He had, in a way; the pact breaker was his guest, and not his prisoner, as she so infuriatingly emphasized. However, Azure was not a liar and not a coward, even when it would lead him from the easy path. “I have not—”

  “Oooor,” Dylan drawled, interrupting him. “Maybe the rumored pact breaker is in the room with us!” his voice rose with his words shouting into the busy floor. Essence users started to take notice, shifting in their seats to watch the commotion they previously dismissed. “You know, Addled Blade, she’s got quite the bounty on her. My friends tell me you haven’t collected.”

  Azure couldn’t help that his eyes had darted towards the food seating area. She hadn’t left, curiously watching.

  Dylan had noticed. “Ahhh,” Dylan sneered. “So, she is here?”

  “You can’t handle her, Dylan,” Azure warned, not of any goodness of his heart, but as fact. If Azure could not defeat her, Dylan and his team could not.

  “Oh, bluey, just because you’ve failed doesn’t me I will,” he crooned patronizingly, topping it off with a falsely friendly pat on the shoulder. He sharply motioned with his hand, his two allies flanking towards the restaurant area like a pack of wolves.

  “Sorry to disturb you gentlefolk!” Dylan said, sauntering over. He projected his voice over the now quiet crowd. “We’ve got a large bounty on our hands here, the ol’ rumored pact breaker. An opportunity for some sweet, sweet, moolah. Not all of us are sucking the silver cocks of the sects. We’re independent! Fortune and failure, by our strength of will!”

  “Shut up, Dylan! Fuckwit,” someone shouted. “Quit posturing!”

  “Fucking peacock bastard,” someone else sneered.

  Someone else threw an apple core.

  He sidestepped it and held up his hands defensively at the jeers. “I’m just offering an opportunity to earn some coin. Anyone who helps capture the pact breaker, I’ll give a share of the cut.”

  “Moron!” A full-bearded lumberjack looking man jeered back. “If I captured the pact breaker, who’d share with you? My girl would at least sweeten the deal. Now, if you suck cock like you speak Dylan, I’d think about it.”

  Dylan flipped him the middle finger, staring into the faces of every person around. His presence elicited general distaste with the farsiders, and the waitresses were clearly wary of his wandering hands. Some, Nara evaluated, were neutral or vaguely friendly, the rough and tumble and less legitimate sort.

  He weaved through the tables, leaning into other people personal space. Not a few spat at him, others shrank back or ignored him, but a few did lean into whisper. Their jeers and complaints could be performative—Eufemia would remind her that not all impressions could be so easily trusted, nor indicate of allegiance. After all, better cooperate with the local asshole than the stranger and unknown danger in town.

  “Ah,” Dylan said. He stopped and twisted to lean imperiously over Nara’s table. “Here’s a new face.”

  “I’m afraid with the performance you just put on, you’ll need a better line than that,” Nara said unconcernedly. She finished up the last crumbs of her meal and wiped sauce from her lips (being an essence user did not stop her from being a mildly messy eater.)

  “You the pact breaker, stranger?”

  She snorted. “Everyone has broken a pact or two. In these parts? None so much as you.” She observed her fingernails. One had a stray piece of dirt beneath one of them. “You give a bad rap to bounty hunters, Dylan.” She flicked the piece of dirt she dug out from beneath her fingernail at Dylan’s obnoxious face.

  She wondered if the information she gathered would throw Dylan off the scent; Dylan’s appearance and proclamation had unearthed quite a few rumors among the gossips: reneging on deals, stabbing allies in the back for bounties, and pressuring others into relinquishing their marks. She didn’t really mind getting into a fight, but she was trying to avoid trouble, as Azure asked. Plus, she was really enjoying the aesthetics of this outpost-within-a-tree and would hate to see it damaged.

  He scowled and wiped the fleck of dirt and insult off his face. “Just for that…Boys! Let’s teach this bitch a lesson about who runs the place in these parts.”

  “Now, Dylan!” a saucy voice called out. “I take offense to that!” A woman sauntered over, swaying hips and legs clad in black leather chaps, laced all the way up. Over her chest was a similar black leather corset shirt. She wore a black leather jacket, with a violet raven spreading its wings on her back. Her black curly hair was tight in a TWA (teeny weeny afro), complemented with black matte lipstick on full bodied lips.

  A goth cowgirl. Nara’s eyes widened. She loved Earth’s astral space.

  “Raven,” he spat venomously, their history evident. “Stay out of this.”

  “Oh no no, how could I? Girlie here has a point; you stain the reputation of us bounty hunters. I can’t, in good conscious, allow this to stand.” On her hip hung a black leather rope-whip, and a shining silver six-shooter. “Simply unacceptable.”

  “You’re a bounty hunter?” Nara said.

  “Yes, sweet pea.” She flashed a winning, full-faced southern smile. “How can I help?”

  “How about a commission?” Nara offered with a wide grin. “Three silvers per day, until I reach my destination.”

  “Five silvers,” Raven counter offered.

  “Four. I know what I’m offering is above market average, but I’ll let it slide. Negotiating is just good practice. I appreciate a smart lady.”

  “Oh dear, you’ve got taste—more than this Dylan would ever have, and not even a chef could teach it to him. Alright, honey. I’ll take care of you,” she said, topping it all off with a flirtatious wink. “Now listen here, Dildo, this is now my client you’re messing with. If you don’t want to eat lead, you boys better get.” She placed a warning hand on her six shooter, ready to quick-draw from its holster on her hip.

  “Her bounty is worth more than four silvers, Raven--”

  “Allegedly, her bounty,” Raven corrected, looking him up and down like a snake ready to swallow him whole. She circled around, settling herself into a more advantageous position with verbal sparring as a misdirection Eufemia would’ve approved of. “You’re just harassing a stranger, hoping you strike it rich. You haven’t even seen the rumored picture, have you? Just that Farside’s Most Wanted is a woman? A cute one like this?” She winked at Nara. “I don’t see it.”

  Before Dylan could open his dumb mouth to retort, Raven’s leather clad leg knee swung up, smashing a solid hit into Dylan’s solar plexus. Caught mid word, his lungs expelled all of their air, and he doubled over. Another leg curved, and Dylan’s head was secured in a choke between Raven’s legs. Nara wondered what’d give first: the stitching on her pants straining against flexed muscle, or Dylan’s consciousness as he gasped from oxygen deprivation.

  “Now.” Raven’s six shooter was drawn before anyone could react, her other hand free to access her her whip. “Anyone else want to try me and my client? Make me earn my pay?” She made eye contact with Dylan’s allies. “Skedaddle boys, unless you want to try your odds two on three. You two? I’d wager you’re only half a man each.”

  They glared, but made themselves scare, escaping to one of the distant levels of the beech, or exiting it entirely. Nara was tempted to send Sage to track them, but Sage was limited in bodies, with one left in Erras, another keeping an eye on her family, another spying on Azure, and another on the Agency. These were too small fish for her to fry, although Nara didn’t want to discount information hiding in small places.

  “Nothing left to see here ladies and gents,” Raven said, waving a hand to disperse the attention of the crowd. “Show’s over.”

  The crowd grumbled and complained, a few booing, but obligingly turned back to their meals and personal conversations, no doubt discussing recent events. The wait staff moved back into action, delivering meals and taking coin as if nothing had happened.

  Four silvers tumbled through the air, and Raven caught them with a quick snap.

  “Pleasure doing business miss...?”

  “Nara.”

  “Now hold on. We don’t use real names here. Did you think my real name is Raven?” she said chidingly.

  Nara shrugged. It wasn’t that unbelievable.

  “Oh sugar, I can tell you’re new around here,” she said. “Raven Ranger is what I go by here—Raven, as you’ve well heard. Young Master Azure Blade over there goes around introducing his birth name because he’s a well and proper boy--”

  “--Hey! He protested the designation of ‘boy’.

  “--and because he’s a Farside born and raised. Got no Earth identity to endanger. We clear, sugar?”

  “Yeah. So do I just make up a name...?”

  She laughed. “Oh, not quite. A moniker is earned. We’ll see about getting you something, but I’ll just call you Shine if that’s all right with you.”

  “Shine?”

  “Spick and span, shiny and new. The new gal in town. New Gal is just a tad too revealing for my tastes, but you get my drift.”

  “I’m perfectly fine with that,” Nara agreed.

  When Raven relaxed her legs, Dylan fell limply to the floor with a hard thud.

  “Oh!” She exclaimed awkwardly. “Oops! Forgot about him, ha-ha.”

  “You forgot about a man you were choking out between your legs…” Azure eyed her dubiously.

  She swiftly bent over and pressed a finger against the neck. “Whew! Still alive…shame. Unpleasant bastard. The world wouldn’t’ve missed him.”

  “We should not kill people because they are unpleasant, no matter how much we are tempted to,” said Azure, taking a dubious stance of justice.

  “Azure, dear, I won’t disagree with you. But I would bet my silver shooter that Dylan there is none too moral.” She stepped over him like he was a smear of shit on the ground. “No hard feelings, hunter. It’s just business.” She frowned. “Maybe some hard feelings.”

  Moments later, a man in a wide shouldered suit swung from wooden rafters, restrained and alive.