Sapienophobia

Chapter 6

The bounty told me more information than I expected: the person I needed to kill, named Sod, was a thief, one not prone to violent crimes. He evaded taxes and officers like the plague. He was twice my age but forever cursed with a shady reputation.

He just looked scrawny to me but the report described him as "shifty and extremely flexible."

Is that all it takes to get a bounty for your life?

Odd, how when an Anide commits a crime, there's a bounty for his head, but when a human does the same, imprisonment is the first resort people flock to.

And likewise, how human butchers are just called murderers told me more about the world than it should have.

Weak attracts weak.
I pity him. Not enough to spare him, but enough to feel bad once he's dead.

The last place he was seen was escaping into the Murks, the forest along the front edge of this district. Its name is attributed to the tendency of woods to be, well, murky.

I'll need some outdoor boots so I won't trip and have my muddy ass handed to me.

I didn't bother going to the receptionist again; he most likely hated his job more than anyone else here.

I go to another Anide dispatcher, who is more than happy to guide me to the nearest adequate tailor for a pretty penny. A human ran it so I had my newfound escort get what I needed; my pocket got a bit lighter to match. I knew that preventing any more human interaction than necessary on my part would be preferable. Frequent panic attacks in the middle of bounty prep would have been more tedious than I would have liked.

If I can't stop being afraid of them, maybe it'd just be better to find a way to lessen my reactions. At least that way, I won't be throwing up my lungs every time and less likely to make mistakes because I didn't think something through.
Are there medications for that?

I was calculating how much of a dent trauma therapy would put in my work account when that conniving acquaintance of mine emerged from the company. I took the opportunity to examine him.

He was of surpassable height and about Vera's age, I had guessed, although he didn't act like it. He wore a casual pocket shirt with jeans. His flats were scuffed and his socks were mismatched, like a teenager. His ears were starting to sag in his old age, but I wouldn't bring it up. The rest of his body slouched as well, he gave off the aura of nonchalance that people who didn't need their job had. Like charging me for his help was just another fun way to pass the time.

Fortunately, he behaved this way around others and Vera so I knew it wasn't a front.

It seemed that my insistence on having boots not made with magic was much to the tailor's dismay. This customization raised some eye ledges and he initially advised against it. I overrode his recommendation. All of his mannequins were humanoid, so his judgment couldn't be trusted anyway.

I won't be wading through unknown forestry with the devil's soles to rely on. What if they prevent me from running from my target?
That's a likely outcome if I confront him the way I am. At this rate, the bounty will end up killing the hunter.
Stop, what's scarier, doing your bounty or not doing the bounty and facing Vera?
Yeah, definitely Vera.
I need to figure something out.

The tailor shop and blacksmithy are apparently conjoined in a family business; one that makes its primary income from milking the guild members for their wares.

"Make sure to visit the smithy if you're in need of weapons!" he added like the opportunistic spouse he was as the door was closing.

I entertained the thought of commissioning some armor to be made, but ultimately decided against it; it would have slowed me down having to clunk around with all that protective ware. I feared getting hurt but if I was unable to run away, it would defeat the purpose.