FOREWARD
The Buchanan brothers: Nathaniel and Ferris.
Acclaimed smugglers from the northern tip of the Isles, have acquired an infamous reputation across the Empire; the only living escapees from the premiere labour camp of Selwin. Hailing from the nation of Tyvia, the duo has since established a small, yet stable underground smuggling ring hosted by thieves who procure only the most exquisite and difficult to obtain contraband. As the southern plague rots away, new opportunities blossom in its stead, paving the way for new opportunities. A new season. A new contract.
A wealthy citizen from the south has tasked the siblings with smuggling a cache of pristine whale bone down to the capital city of Dabokva. An odd order indeed; more and more people have had an interest in what previously was nothing more than a barren carcass. Ordinarily this job would be met with tempered levels of scepticism but times were tough; desperation and necessity replaced caution and logic as the arrival of a strange mark would soon change the brother's lives forever.
When one is in this racket, a promise made is a reputation wagered.
...their reputation was all they had
"I seek not the value of baubles, but something much more intrepid"
- Abigail Ricci,1836
I couldn't' sleep, even if I wanted to...
Beginning to adjust my position I realized that my back, which had caressed the surface of an old oak for several hours now, was numb to the touch. Crawling across the nearby dew tipped grass I fondled the interior of my satchel, searching for any texts or diversions that could aid my temporary sleep apnea; I decided to check the map one more time before I woke Ferris. Probably for the best, my mind was racing, searching for answers which may be forever out of reach. The attempt to calm my nerves proved to be pointless as any extra attention I gave to the geography was all for not, the landscape was already etched into my memory thanks to years of experience, however, distractions were a welcome requirement in this line of work, especially on nights like these.
The golden hue on the horizon started to warm my cheek, which I took as a sign to wake my traveling companion. As I approached my brother he turned over in his sleep, a sharp tinge pressed itself against my innards as I noticed his sleeve briefly reveal the source of my unrest…
A dark etching was seared upon his pale skin, a stark contrast that glazed the surface of his right hand; a cattle brand. He now bore a maker that was a constant reminder of my helplessness. I recognized the insignia, a small spike nestled in a half moon, surrounded by a collection of miniscule dark slashes. During one of my treks down south I came across that image for the first time; much of my solidarity this trip as been spent mentally retracing my steps, attempting to remember every detail of my exposure. I felt like a fool, if only I realized the importance at the time, it just was not pertinent. I know I cannot explain much of this world but this is one thing that needed an explanation, and fast.
He has not spoken of it since.
Not even the rising sun could lift my spirits, although I was still holding out hope; gritting my teeth I approached Ferris and gave his shoulder a quick lash from my boot heel. Waking him from a pleasant escape was often an occupational hazard; from womb to wounds, we carry on.
"Slim pickin's this morning I'm afraid", I said with all the sternness I could muster.
"As per usual", he responded with a murmur, still acclimatising himself to the waking world.
"You expect more? Pardon me, I did not realize you desired the lap of luxury like some Culleran strumpet." Ferris graced me with a half smirk which lifted my spirits more than the son rise ever could. I wonder if he noticed the masquerade I presented him, my apprehension was hidden behind a false sense of confidence.
Our camp, if one could call it that, was perched on top of the nearest mesa and, despite its hasty construction, was off the beaten path and would not attract the thoroughfare. The rolling, frosty hills of the countryside stretched as far as the eye could see but did not show us its usual splendor; bright green was replaced with the colour of a corpse. Summer did not last long around here but perhaps its majesty stems from its short-lived nature. Nevertheless, I have always found comfort in the frost; normality, something I could really use right now.
Ferris leapt to his feet and stuffed what little powdered flakes he could into his maw. It pleased me that his appetite was not absent, although the sibling in me was still disgusted by his candor.
"All set then?" he said while simultaneously obscuring his hand with a sleeve.
Pretending not to notice, I tossed a thicket of soot and debris over the fire pit with my foot and slung my pack over my shoulder. I folded my reading material into a neat square, placed it in my breast pocket and raised a navy-blue hood over my head. Seeing that Ferris did the same I noticed the weather was also getting to him. In terms of personal protection from the elements our matching fur lined coats were among the sole minimal amount of protection we brought
with us for the expedition. My boots needed some serious repair, a state of dishabille that I did not even want Ferris to see; the laces looked like they were mauled by a rabid dog and the soles were breaking from their foundations. Whenever the weather picks up I tend to console myself mentally. I reminisce what awaits me at the finish line: a tepid stout by a warm blaze. Until then its business as usual.
Ferris insisted on carrying the cargo which wouldn't usually be cause for alarm but the fact that he remains steadfast in his duties despite his situation makes my stomach churn. Each morning the holder of the bag inspects the items to make sure all is accounted for; call it paranoia I suppose, but after the job in Fraeport who could blame us? He fingered through the contents with a deft touch. I noticed he was muttering under his breath, reciting the items inside with a fluidity which border lined on memorization. Our business is often predictable.
After working for several years, each season has offered a relatively identical experience, however, recent societal changes, especially down south, have introduced peculiar new demands. Ordinarily we would travel with a much larger entourage; half a dozen men with a mule and cart, pushing large cylindrical tanks of whale oil or delectable cutlets. Understandably, oil is of great value, it fuels the modern world. The process of siphoning the natural wonder is beyond me as I rely on others for that but I could indeed comprehend its worth. Additionally, while the Isles present a wide array of dishes, whale meat tends to be present at most dinner tables. Fishermen back home are exceptionally proud of our native Chargaas meat, a particularly fine cut of whale that is a delicacy, often flamed with herbs and spices, it offers a fatty yet savoury dish, one that makes my mouth water just at the very thought. I was almost glad we were not transporting such a food as the temptation to fill my belly would be too great, especially on cold mornings such as these.
This recent fascination with the carcass is beyond me.
I would have used the leftovers elsewhere, perhaps fashion a pick or a handheld spade. Many of the household tools in the north are comprised of hardened bone. I have even seen those who implement the material as part of the local architecture. A very pliable substance that remains the least valuable piece of the almighty beast.
Word that the Southern Isles were demanding bone for trinkets and other such decorations reached my ears while I was on the "inside". One of the guys in my block, Reggie Gatly, had one that he carried around on his person always. I didn't press him on the subject but it was odd nonetheless less.
During one of Ferris's initial runs, we received one as a souvenir from a client. I believe Ferris kept it as I had no need for it. I admit they tend to be expertly crafted and that moving forward we may need to learn the craft should these types of orders became standard.
I glanced over to my companion and I noticed he was lost in thought; I could only imagine what was going on in that feathered dome of his. I decided to change tactics, I knew he had never been to the capital so I knew that the anticipation could potential divert his anxiety.
"Just wait until you try the grilled seoul."
"Sammy is an ol' pal of mine, usually with drops to the city his fresh catches are my reward, dare I say more sweat than the coin itself."
Ferris snickered and spoke with a soft tone.
"Think we will have time?"
"Of course," I responded with haste, attempting to add some stability to our situation while simultaneously regretting the decision to bring up delectable meals on an empty stomach.
"Maybe Abigail will treat us eh?" He said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
My efforts to avoid work related talk were officially over but who knows, maybe reassuring the transaction could help.
"Scepticism is healthy in line of work. So, what raised your hackles?"
"Few things… short notice mostly… and this of course", Ferris signaled to his hand.
"Does it hurt?", the very words made me cautious. Ever since the damn thing showed up I have avoided the subject like the plague.
"No," he said curtly. "She sounds nice though."
"Got that from a letter, did you?"
"I like to picture the client, seeing as we never actually see them, also how they might use the product, keeps me occupied, you don't think about this kind of stuff?"
"Perhaps I don't have your imagination, but yes, I do sometimes. Occupational hazard I suppose," I said with a grin. "She mentioned she is from Dunwall, lets just hope she doesn't bring the plague with her."
"Don't be so quick to cast aspersions, we wouldn't be in business if we could afford to be so picky. "Suppose," I mumbled. "Look, their turmoil only increases our cost for service, a harsh reality but I'm not about to say I'm not grateful, I'll leave it at that."
Ferris was again lost in thought, however, this time it seemed to be less about his condition, and more about the job; he began to speak with more assertion.
"Despite coming from so far away she is requesting a fairly ordinary order... I mean, I can understand her wanting to meet in the capital but I dunno..."
These very thoughts ran through my mind initially as well. Most of the time, with larger orders, we would work through Duncan; benefits of a loyal cellmate I suppose. A mountain of meat who landed himself a new friend; one that proved to be fortuitous for the both of us. With our brief time together I learned all I could about his family's whaling company and their plights, not much else to do I suppose; it was nowhere as bad as some of the punishments the guards inflicted upon us. Trying to convince Ferris that his misfortunes could provide us with a prosperous future was difficult, but escaping Selwin was not even considered so I suppose he was just humouring me. I didn't even have hope myself, but keeping a light on the horizon was an important way to maintain sanity.
Doing a job with Duncan usually gave us an excuse to visit him and his spouse upon completion, who would often prepare her signature Morley Mess, a staggering amount of food; comprised mainly of leftovers but it provides such an immense variety of tastes that it adds up to an amalgamation of flavours that are the best in the Isles but perhaps my standards are too low.
My thoughts of delectable dumplings and salmon were suddenly interrupted...
I scanned the dirt road encompassed by frost tipped foliage, not a person in sight yet the telltale sign of such was evident. I clutched my spear and advised that Ferris readied his dagger. My weapon was sharpened daily as I never felt secure unless I had a small whetstone tucked away in my breast pocket. The ivory tip glistened in the sun when it wasn't stained with crimson; an unfortunate side effect of the job.
An occupational hazard.
Sometimes I blame myself for my brother's willingness to fight but it has saved my life more times than one. Our cells in Selwin were not even in the same block and he does not often speak of his time there but perhaps he hardened up in my absence. We have been making up for lost time since the breakout and as such I regret that violence follows us everywhere. Without hesitation, experience dictated my actions.
The sounds of the rustling glade, brushing against soaked leather were all too familiar. The path was now well pummelled as half a dozen travelers were upon us. In an instance, we were outnumbered. I thought we were off the beaten path? Did they hide here awaiting our encounter? Many more thoughts ran through my mind but I had to focus on the here and now. The collection did not pay any consideration to the act of subterfuge as they trudged closer with confidence. Many of them looked like thugs for hire, tattered leather, unkempt facial air, and weathered boots that had several weeks worth of stained mud.
Two stood out…
A large, physically imposing man donned a bronze mask with an insignia etched into the plating which I did not recognize. His long black garb appeared to be more expensive than his colleagues, clearly setting him apart from the others on purpose. He had a large piece of luggage strapped to his back, it was tightly fastened and I can only imagine what was inside.
Another oddity was the presence of a woman. She was finely dressed; a violet doublet laced with fine leather straps and a dressed that was hemmed with several jewels. Her garb was clearly not suited for this weather yet it did not seem to bother her. I was beginning to feel out of place. Her hair was ginger, tied neatly into a pony tale which bobbed back and forth as she moved, smacking the rear of her impeccable attire. I glanced over to my brother whose bone tipped dagger was clenched by a stern fist while the other was gently resting behind his waist. I needed to at least feign confidence, the last thing I needed was Ferris to sense my nerves.
"Afternoon all," I uttered through a half smile.
"Ah, the Buchanan boys I presume," she said confidently while simultaneously extending a hand.
Ferris did not move one inch, I was slightly proud of his caution.
I tried to control the encounter...
"Sorry, we are simply on our way to the capital markets, may we help you?"
The lady stepped closer. "No need to assume the sleuth, my name is Abigail, I issued the contract."
"I thought we were to meet within the city limits?"
"Forgive me, some turmoil within the walls forced my hand, and indeed I have always wanted to travel this far north."
Her teeth were still visible as her appearance remained pleasant. Regardless, meeting a contact in the flesh is always a bad idea.
"I would like to speak with your brother first if you don't mind."
Whilst siphoning through the oddities of the meeting I couldn't help but make an audible noise of discomfort towards this notion. Ferris seemed just as struck as I was; he glanced my way and before I could give an approval Abigail was three feet in front of us. She reached into a satchel that was dangling from her waist and presented the order form, listing the correct amount of bone. After seeing the correct documentation my spear was propped up by the spoil yet again.
"What would you like to speak to me about?" my brother's participation caught me by surprise.
"Well, you see, I work in the capital, obtaining goods for the upper crust so to speak. Leadership calls upon me specifically to contact the north to procure such services. Now myself and the company I keep need a reliable network of trade to the north and the reputation of the Buchanan brothers crossed my desk."
I quickly gripped my spear but before I realized it her next words soothed my anxiety.
Abigail raised her hand. "Do not fret, your past indiscretions stop with me and will not be pursued further. My employers and I share many similar qualities but I value a person's skills above all else." She lowered her hands and the rosy cheeks that brandished a smile were directed towards Ferris yet again.
"You would work with me in the capital and Nathaniel would head north, utilizing his contacts to deliver that items in a timely service, both will be compensated accordingly. I am familiar with how much you earn on average and would increase that sizably, however, we would need the capital to be your only clientele. I am sure you understand that we would like to avoid competition."
I began to mull it over as quickly as I could, running through all the facts. How would she know I much we make per deal? Before I could respond, I was met with perhaps the largest shock to my system since I attempted to fillet that electric eel.
"No thanks, but we appreciate the offer," Ferris uttered with an odd level of confidence.
Several of the men halted their routine of shuffling on guard to looking our direction. Something clearly irked them.
"Oh?" said Abigail, while maintaining her glowing smile.
"Here is the bone you ordered," Ferris quickly added.
"Well, can't blame me for trying", she said with a smirk while signaling one of her men over who was carrying a large cloth bag, the heft of it was immediately apparent. The man was similarly dressed to myself and Ferris, a stark contrast to Abigail. After lifting silk flap that concealed the haul, numerous gold coins that were reveled to be the bag's contents. Just as Ferris began to make the exchange he, for the first time, offered up a viewpoint of his right hand. An accident for certain; he needed both hands to exchange our portable travel mate for theirs; despite being lighter the jingle of the massive purse was a comforting tune. I was so preoccupied that I barely noticed Abigail quickly seize the moment to look at his hand.
She quickly swiveled around to address the man in the bronze mask. Her smile was waning.
" Are you certain you will not accompany us? The capital is beautiful?"
The decision made by Ferris was echoing in my mind, but he was the first to vocalize it. Something just didn't seem right. What issues in the capital? Why the large unit? How did they know so much about us?
A muffled sound spewed from the orifice of the bronze mask.
"Ma'am?"
Abigail's smile was now completely extinct.
The next series of events happened without thought, but instinct.
The masked man pulled out a large box from his pack, clearly heavy enough that it caused him to root his feet in the cold grass. The black box stretched from his waist to the base of his throat; black as night, laced with gold and was adorned with the same emblem that graced his mask. A black wooden crank was being whirled around by its owner and the effect was immediately apparent...just not to me.
Ferris let out a carnal howl which made my hair stand on end. Screeching in agony I did not understand what was happening; regardless I retrieved my spear from its rest and began to dash towards the perpetrator.
Abigail was attempting to restrain my brother, who was writhing with enough force that subduing him proved to be difficult. I deducted that the black box was somehow causing this, I knew not how but regardless rendering it useless was more important than freeing Ferris from the woman; he was putting up enough of a fuss that three other men went to her aid. The man with the apparatus was staring at Ferris while fervently cranking a lever, seemingly causing its paralytic effect.
My blood was boiling.
As I dashed towards the mask, I slipped momentarily on the dewy, frost tipped grass, but regained my composure; however, the bearded man who was previously holding the bag of coin was sent to intercept me. While I avoided embarrassment, he could not. The man lost his footing and before he could gain composure a white shard was imbedded in his back, puncturing his jacket. My bone tipped spear was firmly placed, so deep in fact that removing it from the fresh corpse was a feat in and of itself.
The black box was still active, and while its intention was unknown all I knew was that it was causing Ferris great amounts of pain.
My full sprint met a sudden end when I hurled my body weight at the mask itself, shoulder connecting with the facade. The box dropped to the ground with a thud and I found myself slightly dazed, now wet from the grass, looking up at the grey sky. As I tried to find my feet I realized the man in the mask was trying to do the same; I noticed that a large slit in mask was present, looks like he took the brunt of the fall.
When I looked to see how Ferris was doing I noticed that one of the men sent to restrain him was lying on the ground with a dagger lodged in his abdomen, his screeches replacing my kin's'. Part of me was glad that I had a moment of respite as what happened next took a moment to process.
Abigail and two others thuggish looking men who surrounded Ferris were hurled backwards with extreme force, one of which let out a banshee like howl, and for good reason, I could hear his arm snap from where I was standing. Abigail made it to her feet almost immediately and so did her closest accomplice. Ferris appeared to be unscathed but I noticed something that made my heart sink...
His right hand, the mark that was causing me a lifetime amount of stress over the past few days, was emanating a blue tinge that was shimmering against the increased winds. The poor sod whose arm was split open, could not set it back into place as a large chunk of bone snapped off from its host and hurled towards his colleague. The brute who was standing next to Abigail gasped as the shard was now firmly planted in the side of his neck. The trail made by the bone was evaporating, replaced with a large volume of crimson droplets that were spraying from the new wound. Gurgling he gave on last look at Abigail as he buckled and landed face first in the recently doused mud.
One man who had lost a large portion of his leg in the flurry seemed to have passed out due to either pain or blood loss. Suddenly, my recent best friend, the bag of pristine whale bone, now had its contents emptied on the ground and began to travel skyward. Ferris was focusing
intently on the bag his hand still glowing. Three other oafs who seemed to share my disbelief now became human pin cushions as a hailstorm of sharpened giblets found new homes. I had always known that sharpened marrow could be quite effect weapons, but this?
My disbelief and inaction was quickly remedied by a large mitted glove being shoved into my cheekbone at a high velocity. The masked man was clearly not as shocked as me and saw the opportunity to remind me of that. I spat out a fistful of blood and the odd tooth or two while attempting to warn Ferris.
The masked man had retrieved his contraption, beginning to wind it back up. I couldn't find my feet in time as Ferris let out a blood curdling yelp once again, the brand returning to normal.
Perhaps not enough attention was placed on Abigail as she rammed a small flachette into his knee, causing him to fall to the floor.
The air was quiet yet again. No screams, juts the gentle sound of the passing winds; a sound that I always associated with comfort. Not again.
Ferris was bend over bleeding from his wound but I could not tell if it was due to the blood loss of perhaps overexertion.
Acting on instinct I closed the distance and lunged at Abigail, spear in hand. With an effortless evasion, I felt a coldness fill my abdomen. The time it took for me to make my move was enough for her to transplant her steel knife from my brother to me.
I stumbled backwards several steps, the ground once gained was lost yet again.
The masked man suddenly let out a series of muffled grunts, I couldn't tell if it was due to his mask or my heart beat seemingly exploding from my chest. If it wasn't beating fast enough, it is now as I saw the masked man remove his facade…
The truth that dawned on me was of little importance, I needed to help Ferris but I was indeed immobile. I was only conscious enough to see Duncan and Abigail grab an exhausted brother away. The last thing I remember was my face being kissed the damp grounds, coated with blood, bones and the bodies of foolhardy dreamers.
Thank You For Reading.
I Hope You Enjoyed It. Look for More Stories and Adventures In The Future.
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