Hunter Outpost Kroll sat on a bluff above the swamp, a stockade of cypress logs bristling with trophy skulls. Ray walked stiffly through the gate two days later, mud to his knees, the Tyrant’s core against his ribs.
’After two days of swamp, I want a hot bath, a hot meal and a bed that doesn’t float, in that order.’
Yuzu stepped around a puddle, keeping to his bad side, "You’re grinning like a man already sitting in the bath."
"I’m grinning like a man who killed a thirty-pace drake and is about to get paid for every scale on it."
"The guild pays for cores, not scales."
"Then they can pay for the core while I throw in the scales as a tip," he said, patting the lump under his coat.
The guild hall stood at the outpost’s center, its doors carved with hunting scenes, its porch crowded with idle hunters.
Every conversation on the porch died the moment his foot hit the boards, a dozen weathered faces turning at once.
"That’s him, the one with the iron wands," somebody whispered near the railing.
"I heard he blew a bog drake in half with one shot from some kind of fire tube."
"I heard he robbed a lord in his own camp, then handed the purse to a bunch of goat farmers," a third voice muttered.
Ray leaned on the railing with his friendliest smile, "For the record, gentlemen, two of those rumors are... technically true, though the lord threw that purse at me first."
A grizzled hunter spat over the rail, "Then you’re the fool who crossed House Amamiya, while the clerk inside has been sweating over your name since yesterday."
"Nothing says welcome to town like a clerk sweating over my name," he said, pushing through the doors.
Inside, a thin clerk went pale at the sight of him, then reached under the counter for a sealed folder.
"You are the hunter called Ray, out of Kelford, registered with this guild at F-Rank?"
"That’s me, hoping to walk out of here with a lot more coin than I carried in, seeing what’s under my coat."
"Forgive me, sir, but I’m afraid that won’t be possible," the clerk said, sliding the folder across the counter with two fingers.
The seal on the folder was a willow beneath a rain cloud, pressed in wax that still looked soft. Beside it sat a red guild stamp, the kind that meant somebody important already signed off on every page.
[ GUILD NOTICE ]
[Notice: Claim Filed]
[Claimant: House Amamiya]
[Grounds: Theft of Noble Property]
[ GUILD STANDING ]
[Hunter Licence: Suspended]
[Guild Account: Frozen]
[Tyrant Core: Ordered Into Impound]
"Tch, theft of noble property is a fancy way of saying I killed his pet before he could put a collar on it."
Yuzu read over his shoulder with her lips pressed flat, "His letter beat us here by a full day."
"He paid a horse to outrun two people on foot, which I guess counts as a win for the little bastard."
"House Amamiya claims the Bog Tyrant’s core as its property, sir, so the guild must hold it in the vault until a hearing," the clerk said, lifting a lead-lined box onto the counter.
"When does this hearing happen, if you don’t mind me asking?"
"The hearing happens whenever House Amamiya finds the time to attend one, sir."
"That core is worth a farm with the cows included, yet you want me to hand it over for a hearing nobody plans to show up to?"
The clerk swallowed hard, "If you refuse, the guild posts a warrant for theft with your name on it, while I would truly rather not be the man who writes—"
Floorboards creaked behind him as two guild wardens drifted in from the porch, hands resting easy on their clubs.
Ray glanced over his shoulder at the pair, the smile sliding off his face while his feet stayed planted.
The nearer warden stood six paces back, the second at nine, both clubs hanging from loose and careless wrists. Then the wrists tightened, the older warden’s club dipping as he glanced back toward the guild hall’s open doors.
’Picking a fight with a guild hall over a rock is how a man gets famous for all the wrong reasons.’
"Relax, friend, nobody in this room needs to write anything today except a receipt," he said, the easy humour returning as quickly as it left.
He unbuttoned his coat slowly, letting both wardens watch his hands until the clerk remembered how to breathe.
He set the core in the box, watching the clerk seal it like a man burying a friend.
"I want that receipt written out properly, with the core’s weight, today’s date and your name at the bottom."
"You’ll have every line of it, sir, though I’m afraid I can’t promise you... anything past the receipt," the clerk said, scribbling fast.
Ray folded the slip twice before tucking it into his coat, tapping the pocket like a man checking his wallet.
"I’m coming back for that core with interest, so keep the vault dusted for me while I’m gone."
They took a room at the Rusty Gaff, an inn on stilts that smelled of eel stew and pipe smoke.
Ray dropped onto the bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling while Yuzu counted the silver left in her purse.
"Your licence is suspended, your guild account is frozen and the core sits in their vault, so tell me what happens now."
"Now we spend money the guild can’t touch, Doc."
He sat up, wincing as his ribs caught, "I keep a private account for emergencies, one that no guild clerk in this province can freeze with a wax seal."
She crossed the room without a word, pressing two fingers along the binding under his shirt.
"Your ribs are knitting, but you will not twist or lift or jump off anything for a week."
"Can I at least breathe, or is that coming out of my allowance too?"
"You can breathe slowly while I still like you," she said, tightening the knot with a sharp tug.
’The System doesn’t care what the guild thinks, which is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me all week.’
[ FUNDS ]
[System Balance: 250 HC]
[Guild Account: Frozen]
[System Account: Unaffected]
He opened the Forge catalogue, scrolling until a blueprint caught his eye like a magpie spotting tinfoil.
[ FORGE BLUEPRINT ]
[Name: Night Shift]
[Base: Sentry Greatcoat]
[Use: Hardens Against Arrows]
[Blueprint: 10 BP]
[Fabrication: 130 HC]
"A hundred and thirty coin for a coat that shrugs off arrows is a damn bargain no tailor in Kroll could ever match."
"You already own a coat."
"I own a coat that stops rain, barely, while this one is going to have strong opinions about arrows," he said, laying it across his knees.
Runes crawled along the seams as the Forge took hold, threading light through the cloth like stitches.
[ FORGE BUILD COMPLETE ]
[Build: Night Shift]
[Modes: Matte, Plate]
[Feature: Glider Hem]
[Blueprint Points: 3]
[Balance: 120 HC]
The coat looked exactly the same at first, until he shrugged it on and thought very hard about vanishing. Its fabric drank the lamplight in a heartbeat, going flat and dull until his outline smeared into the wall.
Yuzu jerked back so hard she nearly dropped her rapier, "Gah, where did you go just now?"
"I’m still sitting right here on this lumpy bed, just being extremely subtle about it for once."
"Do that near me again without warning and I’ll stab the subtle right out of you."
He let the coat go normal again, grinning at her like a kid who just found the cookie jar.
"Now hit me in the chest with your rapier hilt, as hard as you like," he said, tapping his sternum.
She narrowed her eyes at him, "You’re making the face you make right before something explodes."
"It’s a test rather than an explosion, though I can’t promise the same for tomorrow."
She rapped him sharply with the hilt, the coat stiffening like a breastplate so the blow barely reached his ribs.
’Plate mode turns arrows into bruises and knives into scratches, which means I finally stop bleeding for every idiot with a grudge.’
"It went hard as a shield, then soft as wool the moment I pulled back," she said, pressing the cloth with one finger.
"There’s a glider hem too, so if I fall off something tall, I fall off it slowly and with tremendous style."
"You will not test a glider under a ceiling this low."
"The first cliff we find is getting jumped off, meaning you should start writing your speech about my ribs right—"
Three sharp raps rattled the door before he could finish, the brisk knock of a servant’s knuckles.
"Who the hell knocks like a woodpecker at this hour?" Ray muttered, letting the coat fall slack.
A boy in grey livery waited in the hall, holding out a letter sealed with the same willow in wax.
"A message from Lord Julian of House Amamiya, sir, delivered by my own hand," the boy announced, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
He cracked the seal with his thumb, "Let’s see what his lordship thinks I’m worth this week."
Yuzu leaned in to read over his arm while the neat script laid out terms in a few polite lines. The fire tube plus one iron wand would drop the claim, thawing his account and restoring his licence by morning.
’He wants a pattern to copy rather than a gun, which puts one in the hand of every bully in his house within a year.’
"That’s a generous offer," she said slowly, "since one weapon costs less than everything they froze."
"One weapon in the wrong hands costs more than you think," he said, holding the letter over the lamp flame.
The paper caught at one corner, curling black as he turned it, letting the fire eat every polite word.
"Tell his lordship I read his letter very carefully before deciding my answer is... no," he told the boy, dropping the ashes into the washbasin.
The boy fled down the stairs, while Yuzu stood very still, watching the ash settle into the water.
"That letter was your licence, your coin and our rent until spring, all for one wand."
"One wand today turns into a hundred copies by spring, every one of them pointed at people who can’t afford a healer."
She sat down hard on her cot, "You didn’t even think about it for one breath."
"I didn’t need one, seeing as some deals are only ever a slower way of losing everything."
She said nothing more, turning on her cot to sit with her back to him until the lamp burned low.