Apocalypse: Fairy System by Macronomicon (fox in socks read aloud txt) 📕

The door to the flimsy little Hunter’s Association office slammed open, revealing the one-legged man in question. He gave Zlesk a sheepish wave.

Zlesk almost sighed in relief, but disguised it with anger. “Jeb, where the hell did you go last night? I had to—”

Before Zlesk could finish his cuss-out session, Jeb turned toward the door, heaving on a rope, giving a heavy grunt as he hauled a sled up the stairs and into the wooden room.

Zlesk felt the words die in his throat as head after head slid in through the doorway, sitting atop a pile of what was obviously pirate weapons and treasure.

“Think you can ring this up for me, Bree?” Jeb said, motioning to the heads.

“I said something as small as a finger would work,” the clerk grumbled, opening the bar of the desk and motioning for Jeb to run the sled through.

“Fingers wouldn’t have stopped people from mugging me on the way in,” Jeb said.

“Fair enough.”

Jeb tossed her the rope and the two of them shoved the pile of loot through the gap in the desk. A moment later, Zlesk heard Old Grindy grinding up the heads to identify them.

RRRRR.

“Hey Zlesk, what are you doing here?” Jeb asked, leaning up against the front desk, panting and wiping his brow, sweating in the disgusting way that humans did.

“I was—”

“Neil Spetvar, three bulbs!” came a shout from the back.

Zlesk blinked.

RRRRR.

“Jonan Korde, five bulbs!”

Zlesk glanced between Jeb and the doorway leading to Old Grindy, where Bree was tallying the bounties aloud.

“Svek Pederson, twelve bulbs!”

“Nothing,” Zlesk said with a sigh. “I wasn’t doing anything here.”

“Cool. Beer after you get off work?”

Zlesk glared at the smug upstart. “Last time we went out for beer, you used me and left me with an enormous mess to clean up.”

“This time…will be different!” Jeb said over the sound of Old Grindy rendering heads into juice and Bree’s deep voice calling out numbers.

“Better be,” Zlesk muttered as Bree emerged from the back, carrying Jeb’s payment in tightly-packed leather holsters that made the gold visible from the side.

“Sixty-two imperial marks,” she said, placing two holsters on the desk. One was completely full and one halfway full of gold coins.

“Bree, would it be possible for you to hook me up with a bank account?” the homeless kill-savant asked, wiggling the leather pouch. “I don’t feel like getting stabbed again.”

“Normally no, but for your illiterate ass, I’ll make an exception,” Bree said.

“Stabbed again?” Zlesk asked.

“Sorry Zlesk, I’d like to stay and chat, but I got some more business to take care of, and it’s pretty time-sensitive,” Jeb said, grabbing a handful of bulbs before limping back out the way he came.

“Will you hold my stuff for the night?” he asked Bree on the way out the door.

“Twenty-four hours and then it’s mine,” Bree responded, not bothering to look up from her paperwork.

“Thanks, Bree!”

“What do you mean, stabbed again!?” Zlesk called after the limping bum. He tried to reach out to grab the man’s arm and demand some explanations, but an undefinable sense of danger halted him in his tracks, allowing Jeb to slip out of the office, stomp down the wooden stairs and out into the crowd.

“I think you’ve got better people to worry about, mother hen,” Bree muttered as she worked.

“Yeeaah, I got it,” Zlesk growled, taking his leave.

Starting to think that guy lied on his census papers.

***Jebediah Trapper***

Six bulbs bought Jeb a fancy new outfit, a damn good shave, slicked back hair, and a rough, manly perfume that smelled like wood and toughness. Two bulbs for a wicked-looking new sword that he was sure he wouldn’t need, and the sheath to go along with it. He got a nice leather cowboy hat made for a couple silver too, because why not?

Inspecting himself in the burnished mirror of the room, Jeb had to admit, he looked like a successful bounty hunter. Gotta spend money to make money, and this con wouldn’t really work without the right look.

God, I just hope word hasn’t spread already, Jeb thought. He could still punish Mr. Grenore, one way or the other, but he’d like to profit from it if he could.

“Alright, you wait here while I talk to your dad, okay?” Jeb asked Seraine. The girl nodded. “We’re just gonna work some payment stuff out real quick, then you’re good to go home.”

“Are you gonna keep me if he doesn’t pay you?” she asked, looking small, tucked up on the inn’s bed.

Jeb held up his right hand. “I swear, whether your dad pays me or not, you are going home after I speak to him.”

Click. Jeb felt the promise click into place inside him like a lock. He felt as though he couldn’t renege on it if he wanted to. Thankfully, it was a promise he was happy to follow through on.

Jeb paused with his hand on the door handle, a thought occurring to him. Screwing over her dad was going to hurt her too, possibly more than it did her dad.

“Seraine,” he said, turning to face her.

“Yeah?”

“Would you rather live in blissful ignorance, or suffer through a painful reality, if it allowed you to take control of your life?”

She watched him silently from beneath the covers.

“…I want control,” she said, barely audible.

“Okie dokie,” Jeb said, tipping his hat before heading out. He left the girl there and clomped a few blocks down to Garland Grenore’s place of business, an eyesore of a building that dominated the local architecture by a full story.

Jeb watched as a wagon full of what appeared to be rocks covered in sticky black oil were hauled into the warehouse on the bottom floor. Jeb shrugged and followed the wagon in.