Chapter 8

Fredricx felt a huge sense of relief well up in his body. This was internally demonstrated by shoulder and arm muscles unknotting, insides untwisting, and nervousness quieting. He had passed all of the tests. Fredricx was far better suited for this job than the shipyard. Here, with Roux, he would be treated with respect as a hard working man should.

"Come inside with me to discuss your wages, Mr. Vinge," Roux smiled.

At once, a small girl appeared in Fredricx's peripheral vision. She resembled Roux dramatically, especially in hair color and skin complexion. "Father," she started in a small voice.

Roux turned, facing away from Fredricx. "Hello, Dinah. What is it that you need, dear?"

"I was wondering if-..." her voice trailed off as her line of vision caught Fredricx, eyeing him from the top of his head to his leather shoes. Dinah stumbled backwards a little, but managed not to fall. "Who is this?" she asked, now using Roux as a barrier between herself and Fredricx.

Roux glanced between the small girl and Fredricx. The furrowed eyebrows and set jaw gave away that he was thinking seriously. "This is Mr. Vinge. He is inquiring to be one of our guards."

"But he has dark skin," Dinah objected. She seemed partially confused.

Roux put a hand on his daughter's head, giving a slight ruffle to her hair, "Gentlemanship doesn't know skin color. A respectable man can look anyway. Please, Dinah, go back inside. Wait for me in my office."

The small girl nodded, gave Fredricx a long look, and disappeared back inside the manor. The furrowed brow and set jaw appeared once again. Roux stayed like this for long moments as Fredricx watched.

"Mr. Vinge," Roux started, scratching the side of his face for a moment, "Although you have passed all of my tests and seem like an honorable enough man, I will not be adding you into my security detail."

The internal quieting transformed immediately into red, boiling emotion. His skin seemed to catch fire. "I passed all of your tests. I was a soldier," Fredricx was impressed with how calm his voice resounded despite the intense spike in blood pressure. He always had to keep his emotions in check.

"My apologies, Mr. Vinge," Roux gave a sad smile, "I have small daughters. I want them to feel safe around the men that are suppose to be protecting them. I'm afraid that they will find you intimidating."

"Do you not believe what you said to your own daughter about how any man can be worthy of respect?" Fredricx countered. "I would not do anything to hurt your daughters."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Vinge. You will have to inquire elsewhere for work. I will walk you to the gate if you would like," Roux glossed over, offering Fredricx a handshake

Fredricx accepted the gesture with a tight grip, "I can make it myself."

XXXX

With a vehement sigh, Fredricx was now standing in front of the Healing Church. People were still lined up, waiting for treatment. Nuns would usher small groups of people inside. The patients exiting wore vibrant smiles that were so wide that one might think that their faces might rip.

As true to the flyer, there was construction on one of the Church's walls. Many men and even some women were bricklaying and wood working. It was easy to spot who was in charge. This man was wearing a black overcoat with a white clerical collar, and his hat was black with a short brim.

"Father," Fredricx approached him.

The church uniformed man turned, locking gaze with Fredricx, "What can I do for you?"

"My name is Fredricxon Vinge. I would like to inquire for temporary construction labor."

"Pleasure to meet you, Fredricxon Vinge. Unfortunately, the Church is no longer employing for construction work." The Father was particularly calm, waving him away with a sympathetic smile.

"How can that be?" Fredricx asked as there was clearly more to be done, "I am an experienced brick layer."

"The church has an image to uphold as we provide treatment for the wealthy and for travelers from across the world. You don't fit the image," the man was unbelievably docile and not even a little off put by what he was saying.

"I can assure you that I am a respectable man," Fredricx tried to soothe, feeling more red emotion well up in his chest. At once, his head throbbed. He could feel arteries pulse blood around his head.

"I have no doubt that you are respectable. My desire is for the Healing Church's welfare. I don't have an issue with you, Mr. Vinge. Don't make it into an issue."

After thanking the Father, Fredricx meandered Yharham for a while, checking less popular public notices for jobs. Those notices turned up empty immediately or after a conversation. Was there no employment for Fredricx in Yharham? Surely, in this city where deaths outnumbered births, there would be employment in Yharham.

Before dark, Fredricx found himself in a familiar tavern with a familiar bartender, who wore a familiar, wrinkled smile.

"Good evening, Fredricx," Walter called to him as he entered, "It's been a while. How's Ettie?"

Fredricx heavily took a seat in front of the round man, "She's fine, working hard."

"Great to hear. How's the shipyard treating you? Got that raise yet?" Walter was cheerful. His pink cheeks exacerbated his smile.

Fredricx used his index finger and thumb to massage his temples, "I don't work there anymore, Walter. August displaced me."

"Found new work?"

"Not yet. Rent is due in three days."

Walter shook his head, giving Fredricx an empathetic frown and an eyebrow crease. "I know a job that would be perfect for you. Roux Estate is looking for security detail. You're perfect for it with your time in the military and physical prowess."

"I went by there this morning. Even though I passed all of Roux's tests, he didn't hire me," Fredricx groaned, feeling like pounding his head against the wooden bar that ran along the tavern. Somehow, he resisted. The headache was enough without adding blunt force trauma.

"I'm sorry, Fredricx. Can I get you a drink on me?" Walter asked.

Fredricx nodded and then surveyed the rest of the room. There wasn't anyone else sitting at the bar, but there was rough half a dozen people grouped in various ways among the scraggly tables. A young woman went from table to table, making conversation and swapping empty for full drinks. One man was dressed strangely, sitting alone.

A drink appeared in front of him, and Fredricx took a guzzle before setting it down on the bar top again. With a sigh, he looked at Walter, who gave a sympathetic head tilt and shake.

"You know, Fredricx, I also saw that the Healing Church was looking for some construction help. I know it isn't the most ideal, but that could help," Walter suggested, pouring drinks for another table.

Fredricx rested his head against his hand, which was attached to a propped elbow on the counter. "I talked to them as well. The Father told me I would scare away foreigners from blood ministration."

"Father Gascoigne isn't know for being color blind."

Fredricx took another gulp of the alcohol. It had been a while. Ettie's and his financial status had prevented such a luxury.

"It's difficult being an African man in Yharham, Walter." As he brought the cool glass to his lips, a presence slipped beside Fredricx. Inhaling, there was no questioning this man was a hunter. Their smell gave them away. Because of their reputation, it was unusual to find one without a looming hunt.

Surprisingly, the man was of similar complexion and looked powerful. His hair was cut short, revealed when he took a tricorn hat off and rested it on the counter. "My name is Adullam," a handshake was extended, "I overheard your conversation. Have you ever considered hunting?"

"I'm Fredricx Vinge," he took the gesture, "I am looking for honest work."

Adullam began after shifting his glance side to side, "One hundred gold pieces per hunt. Work is hard, but short."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fredricx inquired as he stopped furiously rubbing his temples and locked eyes with Adullam.

The hunter gave a shrug, and stayed silent just long enough to make the room uncomfortable, "People like us need to stick together."

"If I could make a hundred gold pieces in a night," Walter started, "Fredricx, that is far better than lugging cargo and cleaning blood from the docks."

Fredricx's head tilted backwards has he guzzled some of the liquid gold. The glass clinked on the countertop, and he rested his forearms on the bar, leaning toward Adullam. "I said that I am looking for honest work."

Adullam mimicked Fredricx's gesture. They were a few inches shy of nose to nose. Letting out a long breath through his nose, Adullam whispered, "The beasts ravage the streets with cleaver, sword, torch, and gun to cast down those who are well. They do not discriminate between man and man's woman and children. To slay beasts is of upright character, respectable character. Yharham will not rid itself of these monsters, so Hunters must do so. This is honest work, and I say again that this is honest work."

XXXX

Author Note: Thank you for reading and reviewing. I'm sorry that this chapter took a while. After reading the review from VexEchoUmbra that was very inspiring, I decided that I wanted to change some character development of Adullam as well as alter the timeline of the story.