Chapter 3
Tricks are for Kids

After the incident, Black was surprised to admit how decent the bargain was. The mercenary got his libation and she got her money from Tama. A brief retrospect had risen the last time he gave the older Outworld servant the money to give to the bartender: Erron had never asked how much for the Earthrealm contraband. He had always dug out a few bronze coins—or a rare silver one if he happened to be in a good mood— and figured it was enough. Since he heard no word of complaint or noticed a late delivery, the marksman didn't further waste his time determining if he was shortchanging her.

Not that he cared if he was or not.

The woman was in his employ and he made the rules.

A hubristic smirk tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth beneath his face mask. He'd love to see her try and gripe again, but he doubted she would after last time.

Erron opened the door to his room and felt a frown immediately form when he caught the unwelcome presence of Ferra rummaging through his newest delivery and eating his bread. He never really cared for sampling the bread and usually tossed it over the side of his balcony for the rats below, but it was the invasion of privacy that stirred him the wrong way. The gunslinger was accustomed to the dwarf's mannerisms, but even he had to admit that some of her childish antics grated his nerves now and then. Her combing through his belongings being one that he didn't tolerate.

She looked at him with her cheeks already stuffed full of food and gave him a wide-eye look when she realized she had been caught red-handed.

Black crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her which she responded to with a sheepish grin.

"Beat it, Ferra," Erron growled, "And that ain't yours."

Ferra's eyes lit with delight before she responded with a mouth full of bread, barely understandable: "It Ferra's now!"

The cowboy made a move towards her, stepping inside of his room as the female Kahn's guard bolted for the door. Trying to get past him, Erron held up his hands to block her as Ferra bounced around, looking for an escape she could squeeze through.

"I'm tired and I ain't playin'— put it back," he demanded sternly, raising a finger at her. Ferra smiled at him, unmoved by his tone, and continued to treat it as a game despite his clear annoyance. The girl pretended to go to one side which Erron fell for before she slid under his legs on her stomach and took off with a cackle and the bread in her hand.

"Dammit," Black grumbled as he saw her flee down the hall. With a small whip of his hand, he closed the door behind him and muttered, "Runt."

He took off his hat and threw it lightly on the table next to the cloth bag. After dissembling the rest of his gear, he ran a hand over his now mask-less face and looked for the bottle of whiskey in the bag. Instead of the familiar bottleneck he felt something flat and when he lifted it out of the bag, he scowled in disappointment.

In his hand was a clear mason jar with and equally clear liquid he recognized and hated.

Moonshine.

He was no stranger to it and had enjoyed it once upon a time in his brazen and tasteless youth when he was desperate enough to get drunk. Now older and with a better and more particular palate, he couldn't stomach the stuff.

However, curious and for nostalgia sake, he unscrewed the lid of the mason jar, and lifted it to his lips.

His face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace the instant he tasted it, and even he couldn't help but cough as it burned down his gullet. It was pure, unhampered moonshine alright, and it made him instantly miss the whiskey.

The marksman noticed something on the bottom of the jar and inspected it to find a small spot of caked blood. Using his thumbnail, he scraped it off, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly at it.

He stared at it suspiciously as he put the cap back on it, wondering why the sudden change in merchandise he certainly didn't suggest. Knowing the bartender, Erron couldn't help but think this was some subtle message of vindictiveness despite knowing he scared her last time.

Was it a message that he hadn't been paying enough for the whiskey, so she was giving him something of lesser price?

He had thought he had paid well enough, so was this some blatant attempt to wrangle more coins from him? No coins, no whiskey and a poor substitute in return?

Whatever the intention, he was undoubtfully unhappy about it.

The ex-Earthrealmer lifted the hood of his trunk by the foot of his bed with the heel of his boot, twisted the cap back on the bottle, and discarded the moonshine inside; hiding it for now. The last thing he needed was Ferra getting a hold of it.

He walked towards the balcony of his room, opening the double-sided doors and looked beyond the palace walls with a stern and contemplative countenance.

His astute eyes fixed in the direction of the tavern and located it quickly among the maze of buildings. A brief proposal flickered through his thoughts of marching down to the tavern with the moonshine in his hand to question her, but then again, he hadn't been lying to Ferra when he had told her he was tired. He simply had no mood to deal with the bartender's barrage of glares and sarcasm that he knew would accompany a future encounter with her.

However, it didn't mean the mercenary was going to let it slide. There were terms they agreed on and she had not delivered. He wondered if this was a bold challenge on her part—to see what she could get away with. She was an idiot if she thought she was could get one over on him. Whether she was purposely stoking the fire or just ran out of what he asked for and tried to compensate, he was displeased regardless.

Despite unwritten, there was a contract between them, and there was a price for breaking the terms agreed.

A Week Later...

Norah tried to walk through the laundry area undetected, however, as soon as the other occupant saw her and called out in her direction, the reluctant bartender forced a fake smile on her face before turning to engage her in conversation.

The petite, teenage and heavily pregnant Outworld girl, which Norah had learned was named Méh-è, placed the scrub-board down and approached her with a beaming smile that older girl was a little jealous of.

As they exchanged a brief set of 'hellos', Norah found herself struggling for something else to say; she wished she never had helped her out in the first place.

"How are your hands? They look better than the last time," Norah observed, finally finding a topic to talk about.

Méh-è presented her hands to Norah with an enthusiasm; as if she had been waiting all day to show her. "That herb worked very well. See— hardly any cuts!"

A week ago, Norah had stumbled upon her in the laundry grimacing in pain scrubbing tablecloths. Turned out Méh-è had a skin condition that left her hands naturally dry and scrubbing her hands in hot water day after day caused the water to leave small, open cracks on her fingers.

After Norah had given Black's goods the head of the kitchen— which she also learned that week was named Tama— she helped Méh-è finish up her laundry despite her reservations to remain invisible to the palace staff; she wasn't here to make friends.

The bartender had always hated laundry, but she felt terrible watching the girl scrub the skin of her fingers off. Turned out she was a servant that got demoted by Tama, and this was her first time with the laundry, and upon learning it, made Norah feel worse if she didn't help her.

Using a tip, one that she had picked up from a worker of the launderers that she had once worked in, Norah had gone next door, nearly getting caught by Tama in the process, and plucked the purple ball-spiked herb she needed from the garden. Norah told her to grind it down, mix it with water and soak her hands as soon as she finished her chores. Luckily for Méh-è, the herb was a weed that wouldn't be missed, so she could use as much as she wanted.

"Yes, they do look better. I'm glad it worked well for you," Norah said with a small, lackluster nod, "How are your betrothed and the baby?"

"Both are very well," Méh-è joyfully told her, "He will be happier when he buys my contract from Tama, though. She wants to have me work up until the baby comes because I still have so much time left, but he said he had the money so I will not have to work anymore! Isn't that wonderful?"

"That is fortunate. I am very happy for you," Norah replied dryly, having a hard time conveying her false happiness for the indentured servant.

Méh-è had told her about her betrothed as well as countless other things to pass the time. It turned out she was to be the 4th young wife to a rich, and much older man who she had met at one of Kotal Kahn's feasts. He had wooed her and gave her promises of a comfortable life after taking the girl to his bed. Méh-è had told her she had grown up as a shielded orphan adopted by Tama since her childhood. She had never left palace walls, and therefore, didn't know the perverse character harbored by some outside of it. She had gotten lucky that the man wanted to buy her after she discovered her pregnancy, but the girl herself seemed more swept away in her delusions of potential happiness that supposedly awaited her by finding love than understanding the levity of what would had happened if he had denied ever being involved with her. Almost as if the latter couldn't have possibly happened to her, so therefore, never crossed the palace servant's mind.

After Norah learned how naive Méh-è truly was, she didn't want anything to do with her after that. It wasn't her business to get involved no matter how desperately she wanted to tell her how false she felt the girl's lucrative fantasy to be. In Norah's experience, she had seen few fairy tale marriages.

Méh-è noticed the bag and looked back at Norah, breaking her from her thoughts. "What are those?"

Norah suppressed the urge to roll her eyes; she had already told her the reason for her visits last week. "The mercenary's items. I told you I deliver them each week."

"Oh, oh yes I remember that you did," Méh-è said with an awkward smile, embarrassed by her own forgetfulness. Silence filled the void, and Norah started to eye the door with longing, wanting to exit the uncomfortable conference between them.

Much to her unexpected relief, Tama opened the door, looked at them both with a frown and nodded in Méh-è's direction.

"I was unaware that you were finished with your contract already, Méh-è. It must be pleasant to be able to talk with such time on your hands now."

Méh-è mumbled her immediate apology and bowed her head towards her employer., Norah however, gave the woman a steely look at her harsh tone.

It wasn't that she really cared how Tama treated Méh-è, it was just how she treated people in general. Her interactions with Tama had always been brief thankfully, but there was an unspoken mistrust between the two of them since her first encounter with the older woman. There was an unsettling intuition that weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach every time she saw Tama; the woman always looked at her as if she was calculating something callous to do to her.

Simply, it was not knowing what exactly about Norah bothered this woman so much for her to look at her coldly each time. It made Norah's skin prick with annoyance. The only conclusion she could ever come up with was that it was only because she resembled an Earthrealmer, and each time the bartender saw her, she always mirrored Tama's dirty looks with equal candor.

"Continue to give me that look Norah and I will snatch it from your face," Tama told her, her words as blunt as a brick.

Tama let out an airy scoff Norah's stubbornness when she didn't desist and said: "He wishes to speak to you."

Norah's eyes widened for a brief second before her eyebrows pressed together into a repulsed glower. She had done everything he had asked despite her distaste for the man.

"I have not done anything wrong," she protested firmly. "What can he possibly want now?"

"Speak with him yourself," Tama barked, jerking her head towards the door where the mercenary waited on the other side.

"Good luck," Méh-è whispered sympathetically. The tavern girl slanted her eyes towards the teenager and flashed her with an unappreciative glance.

Fleetingly, the thought of simply throwing the cloth sack at Tama's feet and marching back home without seeing him was an extremely persuasive one. But she knew that she wouldn't even make it towards the other door before Tama sent Erron Black on her. Dispassionately, Norah sucked in a breath and walked by both palace servants towards the door Tama stood in front of. The women didn't exchange looks as the bartender crossed the threshold and as soon as Norah entered, she felt her feet sink into the earth and hold her as still as a statue when she saw the mercenary for the first time since he visited the tavern that night.

Erron Black leaned against the wall of the kitchen adjacent to the door with one of his knees bent and the sole of his boot against it. With his arms crossed over his brown chest plate, he looked in her direction with an unreadable visage—partially due to his heavy leather mask eclipsing half of his tanned face. However, the kohl lidded eyes stared back at her with displeasure and annoyance. She wasn't sure if he was displeased about some unidentified issue she was obtuse to, or it was simply because he was as thrilled to see her as she was.

Both palace women entered through the garden after Norah as did and the only acknowledgement that Black and Norah gave was a brief flicker towards their direction as they excused themselves through the kitchen and once again left the two alone.

The silence between the two was thick enough to be claustrophobic and Norah furrowed her brow at him uncomfortably, waiting for him to address the reason for the impromptu meeting he had called. She hadn't forgotten the way he had made her feel in the tavern that night and at the memory of it, sent a bolt of hatred coursing through her as her chest rose and fell with heated anger.

Seemingly unnoticed by him, the gunslinger nodded his head at the bag in her hands, before he shot his eyes vilely at her.

"It better not be the same thing as last week," he growled out.

The woman's lips parted before quickly clamping down into a straight line. So that was what was bothering him. She would be lying to herself if she admitted that she had not seen this reaction coming.

When Rhen and his brothers procured the new whiskey and informed her that they would no longer be able to be able to supply the other kind, Norah knew that it wouldn't sit well with Erron Black. They were unable to keep up with Rhen's prices for what the Kahn's guard wanted, and despite that Rhen knew he was their customer, was still dissatisfied from the meager payment that Black gave to her to give to the landlords. So they furnished them with something worth the price of what they received.

In all honesty, Norah didn't know the difference besides the packaging and color of the liquid but knew that the mercenary was going to say something regardless if he liked it or not. She was surprised he had waited a whole week— she had expected him that same night to put a bullet in her head after she dropped off the first delivery of the new alcohol. Since she had not seen him until now, she had assumed that he had no objection, so it had taken her by surprise to see him as disquieted as he was.

She crossed her arms over her chest, the bag still hanging from her hand. "I know it is not the what you asked for, but doesn't all whiskey from Earthrealm taste the same?" she remarked with a cool insistence. "I do not see what the issue is."

Norah licked the bottom of her lip when he uncrossed his arms and stepped towards her with a collected but menacing stride. Much like their last confrontation, he overshadowed her with a threatening arrogance. He had the guns, and therefore, she was expectant to be receptive towards his demands. They both knew it, he gloated it subtly but candidly, and she absolutely abhorred it.

The girl resisted taking a step back away from him as he stopped to stand in front of her, looming over her like a turbulent thunder cloud. Instead, she inclined her chin at him minutely, blinking blankly at him in a performance of fictitious bravado as her crossed arms tightened closer around her body.

Without a word, he held out a calloused hand, demanding she hand over this week's delivery. With hesitance, Norah silently gave it to him as their poisonous stares never meandered from each other.

She noticed a slight lift of one of his eyebrows, as if he was acrimoniously scoffing at her demeanor, before he opened the bag and looked inside it.

His eyes lifted to hers like a bull's and she couldn't stop the ragged breath that escaped her when his expression soured, and he lifted the jar from the sack. He let the rest if the cloth bag drop, his eyes never leaving hers as he held it up under her nose.

"Does this look like whiskey to you?" he questioned brusquely.

A flood of contempt washed over her at his belittling tone, as if he was treating her like a simple child. With a small shrug of her shoulder, she regarded him as if his tone hadn't bothered her. "Once again, doesn't all alcohol from Earthrealm taste the same?"

By the sharp flicker of indignation in his eyes, Norah knew it was the wrong answer to give him. She didn't care if he thought her sarcasm was spiteful to him, the bartender knew there was no way he would care about the situation she was in. All he cared about was what he got for his money and therefore wouldn't waste her time blubbering about how Rhen had changed the liquor without their consent.

"You did not pay us for what we were giving you, so we were forced to give you what we could afford."

Her steadfast explanation didn't seem to register to him that it was his fault the he received what was in the bag, but instead, looked at her as if it was insult barbed at him.

She shook her head with impudent bluster, "You should be grateful you are getting anything with what you pay us. It is the same thing and I doubt it is as worse as what you were drinking before."

The irked gunslinger suddenly quirked a half-amused eyebrow at her, as if she had said something ridiculous she was unaware of. He regarded her with only what she could describe as derisive contemplation as his eyes shifted from the glass bottle, to her and back again. Norah could have sworn she saw the corner of his eyes crinkle, as if he was sneering, but it was nearly impossible to tell with the mask over his face.

The bounty hunter lifted his hand to unscrew the cap of the jar before he shot her a challenging stare.

"Drink it."

Norah dropped her arms and took a step back, shaking her head firmly in aversion at him. "I will do no such thing."

"I'll make you a deal," Erron began casually, although she still detected malevolence in his tone. "If you can drink it with a straight face, I'll pay you for it."

Norah's eyebrows bridged together angrily, "You were planning on not paying me?"

"I ain't payin' for something I know I didn't damn well ask for," the cowboy bristled. His eyes narrowed, "So now you are gonna have to earn it."

Norah huffed scathingly at him. Earn it?! She had done everything as ordered against her will and now he was making even more ludicrous demands? Her job was to deliver his goods, nothing more, yet he was treating her as if she was the architect to some scheme to cause him grief. She wanted nothing to do with him, let alone present herself as a target to his wrath.

The Kahn's guard leaned in towards her, so they were eye to eye, and added with almost a humored tone: "Drink it and maybe I'll even throw in a little extra…"

Based on his persistence, it was obvious to the girl that he knew something that she didn't about the drink. Maybe it was worse than what she had given him before and he simply wanted to prove his point, but she didn't need to play his crude games to understand that.

But again, they needed the money.

She frowned at him and asked bitterly, "And if I do not?" Norah looked at the jar and then back to him pointedly, unconvinced that he would honor his word.

"You'll get your money—if you can drink it," he assured earnestly.

Norah looked at the jar with disfavor, unsure what to expect and whether she wanted to voluntarily walk into his trap or not. Furiously, he had found a way to put her in a corner with few options yet again. The seemingly constant flow of victories against her was enough to dislike him, but his demeaning arrogance caused the bartender to unequivocally despise him. Everything he did was conniving and conceited, and she could tell he relished in it even when his face was deadpan.

There was no choice; the only reason he was sincere was because Black thought she couldn't do it. So, the only decision Norah could make was to accept his bet and win. All she needed was one victory against him to hopefully prove that she was not someone that could so easily be trampled on. A minuscule amount of respect would have been adequate—not to mention a pocket heavy with the coins he owed.

Norah snatched the bottle from his hand heatedly, the liquid sloshing on the sides and wetting the sleeves of her dress, and without breaking eye contact with him, drank a large mouthful on purpose. She could have simply drunk a small portion, but there was a point to be made.

It was only when she heard him chuckle darkly at her candid ignorance, did she understand how big of a mistake it had been.

Norah managed to swallow a little, but most of the liquid lingered in her mouth before she felt it burn the inside of her cheeks like a thousand embers. Her eyes teared up as she felt the alcohol travel down her throat. It felt like someone had shoved a branding iron down her windpipe and the end of the iron sizzled in the pit of her stomach.

Norah blinked the tears from her eyes enough to see his bewildered, but cruelly amused expression. When she saw his reaction, she wanted to fight, and try and swallow the alcohol, but she couldn't hold it in a second longer.

She coughed out the remainder and let it soak the ground by his feet. Black grimaced in disgust and moved out of the way as she wheezed for air that seemed unattainable through the unbearable taste left in her mouth. By the Elder Gods, what was that?! It was horrid!

By the time the taste dissipated, and she was able to compose herself, Norah wiped the tears that spilled with the back of her sleeve, as she gritted her teeth in enmity.

Black regarded her with a blasé disposition, but his eyes gleamed with the same vain relish that he had won again. Her fists clenched at the sight of him, and before he could say anything, she turned away and left, utterly frustrated and embarrassed.

She felt like an utter fool. It was an impossible bet that she would have never been able to win no matter how steadfast she wanted to—it was the only reason he made it in the first place. She ground her teeth together, hard enough to send pain through her jaw, as she stormed away.

She heard his footsteps before she felt his hand grab her arm, and without thinking, fueled by her resentment, she whirled around and slapped him across the face.

It hurt her hand hitting the mask more than it looked like it had hurt him, however it was enough to cause the air to grow heavy with tension when he turned his head back to her, the ire evident in his eyes.

Norah didn't care; she met his eyes with as much discontent as he had. She looked at his hand that gripped her forearm uncomfortably and back at him with utter rage. He was a malicious son of a whore that she would no longer serve. If he wanted his liquor so badly, then he could march into his old realm and get it himself! He didn't pay for it anyway so why should she do anything for him any longer!

"Keep your money— our bargain is over," she scowled, her teeth bared to him venomously.

Surprisingly, Black didn't say anything as he kept the same look of quiet antipathy towards her. There was an unexpected nature about the way he silently observed her; she assumed that she was dead very soon but, he didn't try to go for his pistols despite it looked like he wanted to. For a fleeting moment, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of guilt cross his features, but she only assumed she saw wrong. He was incapable of feeling guilty about anything, it was what made him so good at his job. However, there was a nagging voice of persistence that assured her that she did see remorse.

Without warning, Erron twisted her forearm uncomfortably until her palm was facing up to him, and in response, unsure of his intentions, Norah tried to wrench her arm away, but it just earned her a small whimper of discomfort. She saw his shoulders drop slightly as he rolled his eyes, his expression still stony, as he reached down near his hips and she heard something click.

She thought it was him reaching for his firearms before she felt him place the bag of coins roughly in her hand.

Norah blinked at him in stunned silence, her anger dwindling and replaced with sincere confusion. He wasn't going to kill her? She couldn't believe it. Did he truly feel guilty or was he merely honoring the deal he proposed? She did drink it, but she hadn't expected a thing from him.

"Don't get too excited," he informed her, his voice as rough as gravel across her skin. "You still owe me two bottles, and you won't get any more coins outta me until I get them. Come back again with moonshine and I'll do more than make you drink it."

He suddenly jerked her forearm towards him, earning a small sound of surprise from her as she shrunk underneath his threatening glare.

"You even try and hit me again and you'll be dead before you can raise a hand," the mercenary growled, his hand gripping her skin tighter to highlight his point. She hissed in pain at him, glaring as she attempted to pull away. He leaned forward an inch, matching her scathing look with one of equal measure, "Hate me all you like. You'll still get me what I'm payin' for."

He let her go without so much as a fleeting glance her direction as he made his way towards the door and disappeared. She rubbed where he grabbed her by the arm, her skin still burning from where he touched her, before she shifted the coins through the bag with her fingers. It's weight felt awkward in her hand and she was unsure how to pocket it without feeling averse. It had taken humiliation on her part to finally get the payment owed to her, and while she was satisfied that she did, felt loathsome about how she had to undergo it. She played into his hands and she even though he had relented and gave her his due, he had still won. Even when she still beat him at his game, he still reveled in the victor's spoils. Now looking back, had she truly won, or had he just submitted because she was thinking of ending their deal? Were the coins just a way of swaying her to stop her from rethinking their bargain?

She frowned; it must be, there wasn't any other rational explanation. Black had reluctantly surrendered much like a parent did with a spoiled child by giving them what they wanted to forget what they had been upset about to begin with. He had used a clever tactic, disguised as a gain for her, that was ultimately nothing more than a gain for him. She got coins, but she was still as bitter as before.

She was pulled from her thoughts when she caught Tama walking towards her with a detached disposition. "I see your arrangement with Erron Black may not be a permanent one," Tama noted.

"I fail to understand why that is your concern, Tama," Norah shot back, preparing to leave before Tama held up a hand to stop her. Norah shifted back and forth impatiently; after dealing with the ill-tempered mercenary enough for one night, she was in no mood for Tama. The older woman smiled as she looked her over, and Norah could tell that once again she was calculating some malignant scheme in her head, but instead of staying quiet, was trying to find the appropriate words that would not generate another fight.

She walked to Norah and grinned with confidence: "Before you leave, I have a proposition for you; something that I feel may benefit the both of us."

"How so?" Norah asked with a dubious frown.

"I have noticed that you also deliver bread to him as well," Tama pointed out with interest, "do you spend much time around ovens?"

Norah nodded, "I bake depending on what we have in stock."

A placid smile crossed the palace servant's face: "So you are comfortable and experienced in handling different types of bread? This is good."

"What is it that you want to ask me?" Norah cut off, her mouth sitting in a firm line on her face.

"Once Méh-è has her child, she will no longer be under my contract," Tama informed her, "I would like to offer you her place. She did most of the baking, and she was terrible at it. I would like someone with experience this time."

Norah laughed caustically at her. "You want me to be your indentured servant?" She shook her head in offended disbelief. Did she think that was as naïve as the servant girl? "No thank you. I would prefer to not be your slave."

"It is not slavery— it is an opportunity," Tama rebutted unabashedly, "The servants are treated better than the slaves are and after a certain time you will be free to leave— unlike them. You will have a lodging and food—even a small bonus to take with you if you do not wish to continue after the contract is expired."

Norah turned to leave, giving the woman her silent but crass rejection, but stopped when she heard Tama's voice once again.

"You would be free of Black's deal," Tama called out persuasively and Norah could almost feel the grin at the back of her head.

The thought of getting out of Black's deal was tempting, but there was no guarantee, and the idea of being employed to a woman she could barely trust left a rancid taste in her mouth.

Also, Tama had forgotten one important detail: "I have food and lodging, and I cannot just leave my father to handle the tavern by himself."

Tama sighed even-temperedly from behind her, "Well… I can certainly understand your loyalty to your father, and I admire that. However, I can assure you it is not as bad as you perceive it to be. If the position is still available when you do wish to take it, I would be happy actually to have someone who is already trained and does not have to be coddled through each step."

Norah looked over her shoulder, gave Tama an acidic smile in return and quipped: "You should find someone soon, then. She is due any day now by the looks of it."

Tama laughed halfheartedly at her joke, it was possibly the only positive reaction she had ever gotten from the woman, but still, she felt a sense of foreboding creep along her skin when Tama looked at her like a mystic that already knew her future.

Erron Black knew he had been far too generous giving her the bag of coins, because after five weeks passed without deliveries, he was getting close to shooting her full of lead.

She was fortunate that he hadn't been around Z'unkahrah, but when he returned five days ago, expecting to find his goods waiting in his room, he found nothing. After speaking with Tama, she informed him he had not seen the girl since he came down the kitchen himself but had stopped by to let the woman know that it would be a while until they received another shipment of supplies.

At first, he thought that she had stuck true to her word and ended their bargain, but after what Tama had informed him, he decided to resolve the situation himself.

What the bartender told Tama had been counterfeit. She hadn't had a problem getting it to him week after week, so why was it taking so long now. He could only conclude that she must have heard he'd been out of town and decided to slack off. He wouldn't shoot her, but he would let her know that was not how things worked.

Black found Tama outside, waiting for the girl to bring him his deliveries, and flashed him that same aggravating look she always gave him when he approached before turning her attention back to the door.

Erron had noticed that Tama had taken an interest in the girl over the weeks for reasons he didn't care to know. The only thing he did want to know was why Tama gave him the same irritating look every time he gave her the coins for his delivery. A knowing and smug glint in her eyes— as if she knew something about him, he didn't— but said nothing and just smiled placidly to herself.

He finally gave in and asked, thoroughly irritated.

"Spit it out already," he demanded, dropping the bag of coins curtly in her hand. The old Outworlder just shook her head and shrugged lightly, the look in her eyes never faltering.

"I honestly have nothing to say," Tama plainly told him.

"Bullshit," Erron spat.

Tama didn't reply and just smirked in the direction of the door when it opened to reveal the bartender. Erron shook his head, exhaled hotly out his nose and decided to push it out of his head.

He noticed the girl jump slightly in surprise when she saw him, obviously not expecting him to be there, and frowned bitterly as he came towards her. Good, she still hated him but feared him, this would make things easier.

"Well?" he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding towards the bag, "Took you long enough. You get lost on the way here?"

His sarcastic comment caused a spark of anger to flash in her eyes, but it seemed to diffuse when a pensive expression enveloped her face; as if something he said caused her to remember something.

"It is not if we can travel to Earthrealm when we please, I told Tama I would be late, but you were not here. I will also need more for this delivery," the bartender told him with a hesitant grimace, "the last delivery did not end well, and they raised the prices."

He narrowed his eyes at her request, his hands tightening in annoyance as he balled them. She had some gall to demand more from him after he had taken pity on her before and then forced him to wait five weeks for another bottle.

"I really don't care," he curtly responded, entirely unsympathetic to her troubles. She lowered her head and avoided his eyes, looking as if she had been punched in the face. It didn't make him feel any worse; it was not his problem. Nobody ever took sympathy on him when he was late with what he promised.

"I'll pay you what I think it's worth," Black reminded her, his eyes narrowed from her to the bag she held, "speaking of which..."

Erron grabbed the bag of coins from Tama and started to pocket several coins, leaving her with a pittance. He watched her face fall in despair when he gave her what was left in the bag of coins and took the sack from her grasp.

"For making me wait."

Complete and utter animosity grew on her face and she scowled relentlessly at him, "You bastard," she seethed, before she turned her back to him, stormed out, and closed the door behind her with a sharp slam.

He scoffed indifferently at her as he looked in the bag, saw that the whiskey she owed was there and began to walk back inside before he saw Tama giving him a look of disapproval.

"You got something to say now?" Erron questioned firmly, "Let's hear it, then."

"Nothing. Just feel bad for the poor girl," Tama told him, nodding in the direction the bartender left. Her brown eyes scrutinized him, as if waiting to see if she elicited a response out of him. Much to her disappointment, the only one that she was able to get was Black walking casually by her without a word.

Black chewed the inside of his cheek as he headed back to his room and replayed each encounter he had with the girl in his head with more and more distaste the more he contemplated if he could have handled each situation better than he had.

Norah walked into the tavern to see her father waiting her with an anxious and horrified expression on his face. He looked at her, hoping that she had some good news to deliver to him, but all she could do was shake her head and lift the small, practically empty bag in her hand. Her father sighed with a mixture of frustration and grief as he ran his hands over his face.

"Did Shin… has he…"

He nodded his head, confirming her worst fears. Norah pulled the chair nearest to her and sat down as a dark wave of dread washed over her. She felt something touch her thigh and looked down and saw her own hand was trembling.

They were in trouble.