Chronicles of Espiria Season 1
Episode 13 - The Bounty Hunters Pt 2
Written by the Dude and Grizzy
Fawkes and Mirael arrived at Alistair Lanward's cabin around noon the next day. They were greeted not by Alistair, however, but by his valet.
"May I help you, sirs?" the valet asked.
"We're looking for your boss." Mirael said.
"I'm afraid Master Alistair is not here. He returned to his manor near Ranhorn shortly after you collected his gift for young Augustin."
"Aren't you his valet?" Fawkes asked. "Why didn't you go with him?"
"He required that I remain and oversee some tidying up and minor matters of business."
"Can we help?" Mirael asked eagerly. "We love digging through other people's trash."
"Maybe you should let me do the talking." Fawkes whispered.
"You are kind to offer, but Master Alistair is quite uncomfortable with having guests in his absence. You understand, of course."
"I understand." Fawkes said. "Mirael, I need to apologise."
"For what?" Mirael asked.
Fawkes shoved Mirael to the ground as an arrow passed through the space she had just moments ago occupied, at the same time readying his crossbow. He fired a bolt into the canopy of a nearby tree; moments later, there was a cry of pain, followed by the assassin's body falling to the ground. He returned his attention to the valet, already in his interrogation mindset, but was disappointed to find that the valet was dead; the assassin's arrow had struck him in the heart.
"You could've warned me!" Mirael said, more annoyed than angry.
"You're welcome." Fawkes replied as he stepped over the valet's body into the house, Mirael following soon after.
Inside, they found a number of crates laid out across the room on any available floor space.
"Not more body parts!" Mirael nearly shouted, already squirming.
Fawkes punched one of the crates with his glowing hand and ripped the lid off. Both were surprised by the contents.
"Guns?" Mirael observed as she picked up one of the rifles. Fawkes noticed a distinctive mark on the barrel.
"Dwarven steel. Here's the mark of King Asgan. This isn't easy to get your hands on; you have to be a dwarf, or the dwarves have to owe you a favor."
"That's one heck of a favor." Mirael observed as she put the rifle back. "There must be fifty guns in this crate alone."
"Even more in here." Fawkes added, standing over a crate he had just opened filled with dwarven pistols. "You know how much Raine'd kill for a pair o' these?"
"I won't tell anyone if you take a couple for her." Mirael said with a smirk.
"We're bounty hunters, not thieves." Fawkes answered as he replaced the pistol in his hand.
"Oh, come on, it's not like anyone'll miss them. I mean, what does one man need with a hundred identical guns in the first place?"
Fawkes was silent a moment. "That's a good question. We should ask Lanward."
That same day, as dusk started to fall, Raine arrived at Oakenfell Manor. Though she disliked the idea of Fawkes being alone with Mirael, she had to admit that she looked forward to the task before her; Oakenfell was one of the few noble houses that she had never had cause to interact with. The mansion had no obvious security presence, so nothing stopped her from simply walking up to the house and knocking. As expected, the door was answered by a servant.
"May I help you?" The butler asked.
"Yes, I'm looking for someone on your staff." Raine answered. "He used to work for House Lanward."
"I am the only one here who was once employed by that noble house." the butler replied.
"I need to ask you a few questions about Gregory Lanward, Mr..."
"Please, Miss, call me Oscar." the butler said as he ushered Raine inside. "I am afraid the mistress of this house is away on business, but I am permitted to show a measure of hospitality to her guests in her absence."
Oscar led Raine through the entry hall into a small sitting room. A young teenage girl was in the process of dusting a bust of some prominent ancestor on the mantlepiece.
"I'm sorry, should I go?" the girl asked when she noticed Oscar and Raine.
"No need, Rosaline, you may finish first. This is..." Oscar glanced at Raine expectantly.
"My name is Raine."
"Raine is a bounty hunter, Rosaline. Her duty is to hunt down criminals for the king."
Rosaline's head lulled to one side as she thought. "Sort of like a knight?"
"Sort of," Oscar answered, "but her methods are a bit more...rustic."
Rosaline gave a quick curtsy to Raine, then asked, "What brings you to Lady Oakenfell's home?"
"I have a few questions for Oscar about someone he used to work with who called himself the Mannered Knife."
Oscar's friendly demeanor took on a more subdued sense of dread at the mention of the Mannered Knife. Rosaline giggled at what she perceived to be a funny name before noticing Oscar's concern.
"Sir, are you all right?"
"I just remembered that it is about time to begin preparing for dinner." Oscar answered with his old demeanor. "Would you be so kind as to wash the dinner dishes?"
"Oh, may I?!" Rosaline asked excitedly.
Without waiting for an answer, Rosaline skipped off toward the kitchen.
"You're the Mannered Knife, aren't you?" Raine asked once Rosaline appeared out of earshot.
"Are you here to collect a bounty on my head?" Oscar asked, returning to his concerned demeanor.
"That depends on our conversation." Raine answered. "As I said, I have questions that need to be answered."
Oscar sighed, then sat opposite Raine and began to collect his thoughts.
"When I was hired by Master Lanward, I was surprised that he wanted to appoint me as his personal valet; such a vaunted position is usually earned through years of loyal, trustworthy service, not handed to an unproven, inexperienced waif as I was. Over time, however, I learned that he had a knack for finding hidden talents and abilities in people and drawing them out. In my case, he saw the administrative talents that have since served me well as head of staff here, but he also discovered a much darker talent that I am not proud of..."
"Assassination." Raine finished.
"I had been in his employ for about a year when he first asked me to do what he dubbed a 'favor'. He told me that he had uncovered a plot by his nephew to murder him, and asked me to put a stop to it."
"He told you to kill his own nephew?"
"He presented it as a case of self-defense, which I took at face value. Still, the boy was of the noble house of Lanward, so he deserved a respectful death. During a small party, I used a slender knife to sever the spinal cord from the brain; no pain, minimal blood, and it was easy enough to convince the guests that he had simply tired himself out. The death was not discovered until the next day.
"I had hoped that this would be the last such 'favor', but Master Lanward proved over the next few years to have a surprisingly large number of enemies. The strangest case was Lord Telman; he and Master Lanward were never friends, but they enjoyed a mutual respect. After a rather intense argument, the subject of which I was never privy to, I was ordered to dispose of Lord Telman; it was strange because Master Lanward made no attempt to justify the killing beyond the personal slight he received. I fear that my skills and reputation were beginning to go to his head; he felt more powerful than he was or ought to be. But when the authorities began to question him over Lord Telman's death, he panicked and tried to hand me over to them. I escaped their grasp, of course, and, under an assumed name, found a place here."
"So Oscar isn't your real name?" Raine asked when Oscar had finished.
"It may as well be now." Oscar answered. "I have found a good life here; I'll do nothing further to risk it."
Raine took a moment to process the story, then returned to the matter she had come about.
"When you worked for the Lanwards, did they ever have dealings with the Augustins?"
"On occasion. Most of the time, the families failed to get along at all; differences of opinion on how the kingdom should be administered and such. There were occasional exceptions, of course. Lord Lanward and Lord Augustin would enjoy hunting together, I believe Lord Lanward's son Lucius serves in the church with one of the Augustin daughters, and...ah, young Alistair Lanward was friends with a Jeffrey Augustin."
"Tell me about Alistair and Jeffrey."
"Alistair always had a rather submissive personality, which made him ill suited to carry on their martial traditions. It also made the poor lad more susceptible to Jeffrey and his chaotic whims. Jeffrey's proclivities for what the church would call sinful pleasures would often cause minor controversies in the more religiously devout branches of the families."
"Have you ever been to Jeffrey's hunting cabin? It's a few days ride west of the Lanward cabin."
"I know the place. I accompanied Master Lanward there a few times as his valet. It was the site of a more unpleasant assassination, which I hope you need not hear the details of."
"Were you ever alone in the Augustin cabin, maybe on a vacation?"
"A vacation? A proper valet needs no holiday; he finds his rest at the end of a day of productive work. Besides, as a servant of the house of Lanward, I would have neither right nor reason to use it for any purpose, particularly in the absence of an Augustin."
Raine watched Oscar's eyes and body language throughout the interrogation carefully for any evidence of deception; there was no sign that he was lying.
"Thank you." Raine said as she stood up. "If I have anymore questions for you, I'll come back. And don't worry; so long as the Mannered Knife stays dead, your secret's safe with me."
"I appreciate that. I fear it has grown too late to return to town before dark; it would be no trouble to prepare a guest bedroom for you, if you are agreeable to spending the night."
"No thanks; I'm used to rougher conditions than your feather beds. If you could bring a blanket in here, though, this couch would be comfortable."
"As you wish; I will have a blanket and a pillow brought for you."
Oscar left the room, leaving Raine to herself. As she sat on the couch, she thought about her conversation with Oscar. As far as she could tell, he was being completely honest, which meant that Jeffrey Augustin was either wrong or lying about the Mannered Knife having any connection to the altar they found; but if he was lying, then he was disturbingly good at it. In the end, she would have to compare notes with Fawkes anyway once she reunited with him. This got her thinking of Fawkes, and how he was alone with Mirael; she feared what Mirael's abrasive personality would do to Fawkes' self-control.
"Hold on, Fawkes," she whispered, "hold on."
Oscar, meanwhile, stood with his face to the closed door of the sitting room, still mulling the conversation he'd just had with Raine. Recollecting his old life had a way of renewing his appreciation for his new life, but it also filled him with shame for what he had done, even if it was under orders. He was so lost in thought that he did not notice Rosaline until he turned around.
"Gah!" Oscar shouted as Rosaline startled him. "Please announce yourself if my back is turned!"
"I'm sorry sir, but I wanted to let you know that I finished the dishes. Is there anything else you need?"
"No, that will be all. Inform the staff that dinner will be served soon."
Rosaline curtsied and turned to leave, but before she got far, she returned to Oscar and hugged him.
"You are a good man, sir." she said, then released him and continued on her way. Oscar was surprised to be sure, and wondered if she had heard his conversation with Raine. Still, he found it endearing to think that Rosaline, at least, could forgive the wrongs of his old life.
Fawkes and Mirael, meanwhile, made camp near an old abandoned shrine to a long forgotten Celestial. After a meal of stew, Mirael lit a flame in her hand to better take in her surroundings.
"You get some sleep." she said to Fawkes. "I'll take the first watch."
"I'll be fine." Fawkes answered. "You get some rest."
"You sure? You look exhausted?"
"I'll be fine." Fawkes answered. "You get some rest."
"This isn't some kind of macho thing, is it? Because if it is..."
"I know you can take care of yourself. But I'm not gettin' any sleep anyway, whether you get some sleep or not."
Mirael considered her options, then consented and started looking for a comfortable place to lie down. As she shifted in her makeshift bed, she noticed that Fawkes' left hand was glowing more than usual.
"You know, I never got around to asking; what's with your hand? Did you trade your sense of humor for some kind of weird power?"
"No. Someone else did."
Mirael just looked at Fawkes, confused, as he continued.
"When Raine n' I were kids, we liked to go explorin' around our town. We went everywhere, especially where we weren't supposed to go. One day, we found this cave that we'd never seen before n' decided to check it out. We found out too late, though, that it was being used as a hideout by a necromancer. He grabbed us 'fore we could get out and talked about killin' us, but then he said he had a better idea. He started some kind o' ritual; I still don't know what exactly he was tryin' to do, but we were rescued by a couple of inquisitors 'fore he could finish..."
Fawkes paused to look at his hand. The glow faded a little.
"...just not quite in time."
"What did he do to you two?"
"To Raine, nothin'; she lucked out. Me...Whatever it was, he didn't finish it. I figure he was trying to call up some dead spirit to shove into my body; maybe some guy he owed a favor to. All I know is it's still tryin' to take over my body. I can keep it trapped in my hand if I concentrate, and even use its magic if I concentrate hard enough; but if I let my will slip for very long, it'll take over, 'n I don't know if I'd be able to take control back."
"That's why you don't want to fall asleep!" Mirael said in shock. "When you fall asleep, your guard drops! How..."
"Raine figured out that she can use her own will to keep it contained while I sleep, as long as she has physical contact. I just don't like askin' her to 'cause of how much it wears her down."
"You know, I don't think she minds." Mirael said as she rolled over and extinguished the camp fire with a snap of her fingers. Fawkes stayed up, watching their surroundings with enhanced senses, all the while still thinking about Raine.
The next day, they arrived at the mansion of Alistair Lanward. They were greeted at the door by, as expected, a servant.
"May I help you, sirs?" the servant asked.
"We need to talk to Alistair Lanward." Fawkes said.
"I am afraid Master Alistair is not in at the moment." the servant said unconvincingly.
"Liar, liar, pants on fire." Mirael said in a sing song voice.
The servant looked down and noticed that his trousers were, indeed, on fire. Panicking, he ran past Fawkes and Mirael toward the decorative fountain in the front drive.
"Liar, liar, pants on fire?" Fawkes asked derisively.
"Behind that mask, you're laughing." Mirael argued with a smile. "Besides, it got him out of the way without killing him."
Fawkes shrugged as he entered the house.
"Alistair Lanward!"
A man appeared at the top of the staircase in the entryway and slid down the banister, twirling a pair of knives in an elaborate show of skill. Fawkes waved his left hand, and the man was cast into a nearby trunk and trapped within.
"Alistair! We got some questions for ya!"
Alistair, meanwhile, was in his bedchambers, readying himself to climb out the window to escape from Fawkes. He popped his head outside to see if the coast was clear, only to be driven back inside as Mirael cast harmless but scary looking fireballs at the window. As he backed away from the window, he bumped into Fawkes, who grabbed him by the shirt collar and slammed him into the bedpost. Mirael arrived in the bedroom not long after.
"We have a very unpleasant conversation ahead of us, Alistair." Fawkes said as he leaned in on Alistair.
"I didn't do anything, I swear!" Alistair shouted.
"You should come clean, Dumpy." Mirael suggested. "He didn't sleep well last night and now he's kinda grumpy."
"What're you doin' with enough guns to equip an army?" Fawkes asked.
"Nothing! I want no part in them! I am perfectly happy with my hunting rifle!"
"Then explain all the crates full of guns in your entryway." Mirael demanded.
"Are they intact? My father will be furious if they are damaged!"
"Wait, they're for your dad?" Mirael sounded confused.
"Father believes that if the forces of Bantus or the Scorched Expanse were to attack in force, the royal army would not be able to repel them. So he has secretly been building a militia for years to serve as reinforcements should such a disaster ever occur."
"And of course it'd never cross his mind to incite Bantus to attack so he could prove his militia's mettle." Fawkes said sarcastically.
"No, not Father. His loyalty belongs first to the king, second to his family."
"So you got the guns for Lord Lanward." Fawkes summarized. "How'd you get your hands on Dwarven steel?"
"That was Jeffrey Augustin. He said that he would procure them and trade them to me for...well, you delivered my end of the bargain to him yourself."
"You know how he got them?" Mirael asked.
"I've no idea," Alistair answered, "I only bought them; I had no part in acquiring them from Maldan."
"We know that you traded necromancy supplies to get those guns." Fawkes said. "Do you know why Jeffrey wanted them?
"No, he told me very little about his plans for the...supplies. Although, when we struck our bargain, he did say one word that I thought was quite curious."
"And that was?" Mirael asked.
"Mehira."
Fawkes' steely gaze melted into a sense of urgency at the mention of the word. He dropped Alistair and left with no further discussion. Mirael had to run after him.
"You recognized that word, didn't you?" Mirael asked. "What is it? What does it mean?"
"Slavery incarnate."
They mounted their horses and raced back to Jeffrey's cabin, pausing only because they encountered Raine on the way. They quickly compared notes before continuing on to the cabin, arriving as the sun was setting.
"So what's Mehira?" Mirael asked Raine.
"You remember the old stories about the Hypogean wars?" Raine asked Mirael as she unclipped the straps keeping her pistols in her holsters. At the same time, Fawkes readied his crossbow.
"Yeah, that's when the old gods were supposed to have all been killed off."
"Mehira was one of the more powerful Hypogeans. Fawkes knows more about it than I do, but if Jeffrey Augustin mentioned its name, then saying it can only mean trouble is probably an understatement."
They entered the house and made their way to the basement, where they found Jeffrey kneeling before the still-intact altar, chanting in a language none of them recognized. In the corner of the room, discarded like an old tissue, was the body of Benson, Jeffrey's valet. Abruptly, Jeffrey stopped chanting and stood and turned to face the three bounty hunters. Fawkes glanced at the altar and noticed a human heart sitting on it, likely pulled from the chest of Benson.
"I was wondering when you would return." Jeffrey said.
"Most nobles who dabble in demon worship do it for the kicks." Fawkes said, on constant guard in case Jeffrey tried anything. "Looks like you're a bit more committed."
"Quite observant, Fawkes. True, my experiments in the dark arts were initially driven by curiosity and boredom, but as I studied further, I began to realize the sort of power wielded by the demons. If not for the intervention of the old gods, this land would belong to the demons today. Such power in the right hands could be quite interesting, don't you think?"
"Especially the power of Mehira." Fawkes said with a snarl.
"Ah, I see you are familiar with the Mindcager." Jeffrey said with a grin.
"I know all the old stories ended with people being stripped of their will and made into slaves." Fawkes responded with disdain. "Mehira is dangerous."
"Perhaps unbridled, but if the Mindcager could itself be caged, then it would become a powerful force for order! Imagine, no more war; no more murder; no more devotion to dead gods and outdated ideas of morality! Only total devotion to the man who freed this world of desire!"
"And how do you plan to cage the Mindcager?" Fawkes asked with even more disdain.
"I have my ideas. I have spent years researching the Hypogean prison and its denizens; I believe I have found more ways to contain and control them than you, Death's Defeat, have found to slay them! Mark my words, Mehira will serve me! The Mindcager will bend to my..."
A loud bang and a red mist, and Jeffrey fell to the ground, a large chunk of his head plastered to the wall behind him.
"Why do they always wanna monologue?" Raine asked herself as she holstered her still-smoking pistols.
Fawkes breathed a sigh of relief as he holstered his crossbow. "Well, only one thing left to do here. Mirael, you wanna do the honors?"
"Nothing would make me happier." Mirael answered.
Fawkes and Raine left the cabin as Mirael set fire not only to the altar, but to everything else in the basement as well. It was not long before the entire cabin was engulfed in flames. As the three of them watched, Mirael shed a single tear of joy.
"I don't usually get asked to make fires this big." Mirael said. "Thank you."
"Glad you got something out of this." Raine said. "You know we aren't getting paid anymore, right?"
"Maybe Lanward can cover our fee." Fawkes said. "We still need to burn his cabin down in case there's anymore necromancy supplies there, and he's got some merchandise there that I think you'll find very interesting."
The funeral for Jeffrey Augustin was held a week later. Fawkes and Raine decided to attend, trying to stay discreet, in case some other acolytes of Mehira showed themselves. As expected, most in attendance believed the official story; Jeffrey Augustin's death was a tragic accident, the result of the embers in his pipe getting out of hand while he was drunk. Also as expected, some were sorry to see him gone, a sentiment they expressed at any funeral whether they knew the deceased or not; while others seemed to express more sorrow at the destruction of the cabin, lamenting the loss of so many relics of family history more than the loss of Jeffrey.
Unexpectedly, the funeral was officiated by Jeffrey's own sister, Belinda. Normally, priests were not asked to serve at the funerals of family to allow the priest to mourn with the family; but Belinda insisted that she be allowed to lead the funeral, and she enjoyed enough respect from her superiors in the church that they did not speak against her.
"There is little point in mincing words; we all know that the sins of the flesh were something that my brother struggled with all his life. Yet I know there was good in him; I felt it whenever he came to me to confess. However far it was buried by his weak will, it would always surface again when Athalia convicted him, and for a time, he would walk in the ways of Dura again. Let us learn from Jeffrey's example: flee from darkness and walk in the Light, for that is when we are at our best. That was when he was at his best."
Everyone agreed that she did well; most found her eulogy comforting, imagining Jeffrey finally finding peace in the embrace of the Celestials. Those like Fawkes and Raine, who paid attention to the brief sermon, noticed that Belinda chose her words carefully; she never specified where she thought her brother's soul was, and instead used her time to call those present to repentance, perhaps hoping that those present could avoid the fate that she feared had befallen Jeffrey.
With the end of the funeral, Fawkes and Raine hoped to step away discreetly while the family members present made small talk among themselves. They almost succeeded when they were stopped by Belinda.
"You are Fawkes and Raine, are you not?" Belinda asked them.
"Yes, ma'am." Fawkes answered.
"Can you tell me what really happened to my brother?"
Fawkes and Raine glanced at each other, trying to decide how best to answer Belinda.
"I know that Jeffrey struggled with all variety of sin his whole life, but I always held out hope that he would one day repent of his ways once and for all and walk in the Light for good. Your presence here, however, tells me that this was not the case. You are not related by blood, and he was never the kind of man who associated with bounty hunters, so I must conclude that you are here because he ran afoul of you somehow. So please, what happened to him?"
They took Belinda aside and relayed everything they knew of Jeffrey. Belinda began to weep when they spoke of the altar to Mehira.
"I knew that he was running from the Light, but I had no idea how far he had run!" she said before breaking down in tears.
