-8-

For one thing, Pay was glad that the rogue was dead. That had spared him the running. To say that the hunter was a poor runner was not the case, in fact, he was trained to outrun the quickest of foes. Hunters… even they were a match to the upper echelon of Thief classes, if not better. Assassins were known for their cloaking abilities, and rogues for their hiding. They hardly raced with their adversaries.

Merely because Allen's life was at stake, Pay made sure Allen was safe even if it cost him a limb. Yes, even if an army of Abysmal Knights were hot on their heels, he would run with the young man on the back to safety with utmost haste. Pay knew his father. Drakand Senior had been his supplier for as long as he had been in the class of Archery, dealing him with the great range of arrows, bows and the like. Of course, for such a loyal patron, it would be a joke if Pay was not granted discounts.

"My boy thinks he's something, y'know? Something, only at eleven! Bah, I guess it won't hurt though. Its just a matter of time before he goes out to see the world. It'd be good for him to start giving a little something to the family business!"

The conversation between him and Allen's father was still fresh. It had been more than a couple of hours since he conversed with him, discussing what would become of the young archer ten, or eleven years down the road. "A fine hunter," was what he had simply said. Though he had business at hand, he promised the senior of House Drakand that he would keep a lookout for Allen if he could afford the time, and there he was, preserving him for the role of a "fine hunter" in the nick of time.

The rogue's identity remained a mystery, so was the abrupt shot of the bolt. The stout, deadly projectile buried deep in that man's heart was a revolting sight; Pay, unfortunately, had the image etched in his mind. He remembered he could see the whites. Bones, he thought.

It came from a bow, to say it was powerful, was nothing short of an understatement. Such supreme weapon can only be the Ballista. The Ballista… Elemire's choice of weapon.

Pay felt the young archer stirring, and then gasped. "It's just me. We're nearing home," Pay said.

"The… that rogue! Wh- what happened? Haven't I been killed?" Allen said with hints of both fear and apprehension.

"We'll have your injuries treated first. I fear you may have been poisoned, from the wound on your knee."

The hunter sped down the Payon bridge, with Allen bobbing furiously on his back. Weak sunlight from the lazy afternoon bathed the village which was lined with rows of tile-roofed houses. Traditions were greatly observed, certainly. The look of both residents and residential was sufficient for a prompt. Sitting in the middle of a lush, green forest which seemed to stretch on without so much a boundary, Payon was the place for everyone and anyone keen in the art of range battle. This same village was the largest trader of bows and arrows in the entire Rune-Midgard, besides, tea was well heard of across the world. It was a heritage it seemed, the appreciation of Payonese tea. More often than not, apprentices were seen scattered in the woods, keeping a sharp eye for crisp, fragrant tea leaves found on certain plantations.

The people were a conservative bunch. And that had taught children a thing or two about passive rebellion, thanks to confines. Dressed in simple Payonese tunic and sandals-to cool their feet in the all year round summer- when not in battle, they had a sharp eye for anything at all. It was their basic ability, trained as the prerequisites for the advanced skills with the bow. In short, they had better visionary capabilities than any of the miscellaneous classes.

Pay sighted Drakand Senior easily. The town was rather quiet, most archers being out of town for training at such a time. Even if there was a bazaar, he could see the ageing man nonetheless. He was either at his workshop, or inside his weapon store.

"Mister Drakand! Your son!"

The man of fifty-five years of age jerked his head up with a startled look. It did not leave his countenance, especially since the sight of his son registered on him. He dropped the bunch of Choco feathers meant for the fletchings, and ran over. "Allen! Odin bless him! What in the world happened?"

Pay stopped him. "I'm sorry, Mister Drakand. We have to bring him into the house to treat his knee. You have to fetch the town acolytes! Please, make haste!"

"I know just the person in this line. I'll run to him immediately!" Drakand Senior spurted with utmost urgency.

The elder turned to leave, and met with three figures standing in his way. A young woman stood before him, a giant bow with slick golden finish hanging on her back, with two men dressed in white robe trailing behind. She looked as fine a huntress can be, and battle-worthy as well, with her weapon that promised nothing but blood and death.

"You don't have to look like that, you know? We've seen each other more than once, I believe? I brought the acolytes," she said rather frivolously.

Drakand Senior swallowed with slight embarrassment. "Elemire? I didn't expect you. How did you know about this? This is as far as I can offer my thanks, but my son –"

The huntress led the pair of acolytes past the de facto of the house and into where Pay had laid the young archer. Pay looked just as startled as Drakand Senior when he saw his newly wedded wife. "Elemire? How…"

"We'll talk when we return to our lodging. Isn't it better if we let them do their job in peace, my dear? It is rude to impose on his father too, you know?" she frowned at the hunter.

Before Pay could think of a retort, she led him by the hand out to where Drakand Senior's workshop was. Pay noticed the worry-creased face of the elder, and at that moment he felt it incumbent to relate the harrow. He put a hand on him and squeezed his shoulder. "Surely I did remember what you asked of me. Keep a lookout for him when he's left for ore hunting, and thank Odin I kept my word. Or else, the anonymous rogue would have knifed him dead."

Pay saw the various expressions of shock and seething anger throughout the relation of the rogue and his sudden demise while he saved the young archer. The macabre wound was still fresh in his mind, but he spared the details. Drakand Senior was devastated sufficiently. His main concern was for Allen's mobility after the operation. Pay had taken great effort to play down the injury and assured him the best of condition for Allen.

"The bad do get tangled up in karma. How true!" the elder was heard mumbling, after he offered incessant words of appreciation for the couple's help.

The two returned to the camp of the Elite Hunter, and into the tent where Pay had been spending the past few nights. It was empty, just as the way it was before the rescue mission. As far as he knew, his two fellow comrades who shared the hardly spacious tent were assigned for one of the busiest of duties. In the day at least, but they made themselves so during dark, when they drank long into the night at the Night Star inn with the barmaids. As a result, Pay was passively made responsible for getting them back and sobered up for the next day.

Somehow, he was just glad. He wished they would not return so soon. It was one of those private moments with the huntress, but ironically, he was all business. He wanted to ask her about the rogue, and that ambushed attack. Looking at his new Gakkung appreciatively, he set it aside, and turned his attention to his wife.

"You probably know what I'm about to ask."

Elemire seemed oblivious to her husband's question while she finished the half drank cup of tea. Her sigh that came after that was more of a feigned exasperation rather than from tea appreciation. "You're working round the clock, my dear. We have hardly any time together since our marriage. And look at this! Such a rare opportunity turned into a business conversation!"

From the none too happy look of the huntress, Pay knew he was forced into submission. It was a lethal weapon, indeed. "Do you not think it pains me not to offer you ample companionship since the day we wedded? To be honest, why am I still being looked upon as a child? You know it too. Our marriage is still unknown to my mother. How I wish I could leave with my guild as secretly as our affair was!"

The huntress's look was visibly softened, from the previously passive look. It did not take long for her to react. Moving next to Pay, she put her arms around him. "I know, my husband, all too well. Consider this. Nobody can force you into anything, not even your own mother. A grown man is disposed to do whatever he wants to, with every possible authority."

"Authority? I doubt I ever had the ownership of it, and probably never will. Blame it on the traditions if you want to," Pay said as he began emptying his cup of light greenish brew. Payonese tea, how bounded was he. "No, you'd not be a man if you abandon your responsibilities. Mine was created from the horrors of the war with Moonlight Flower, and I've pledged to defend this village."

"Are you really sure that is the best option for you? It is not possible for you to forget about the Avengers just like that. Certainly you're not cut out for this!"

"They will understand," Pay spoke after a moment of deep thought. "I'm quite sure they will. I will not run off like a sell-out, certainly not when you're here. Leaving you alone will be the last thing I do."

Elemire smiled at him for a while and slipped her hand into his. "Of course you wouldn't. Now, that's what I'm talking about. Let's leave the rest of your queries for next time."

It was Pay's turn for a wide smile, and he was still fervently hoping his comrades were still far out at their post. He suddenly wished that he was out of the Elite Hunter Squad, out of Payon, to have such moments. Just somewhere out there…