Aveladus : The Returning

Chapter 7

In the end, I must trust in myself. I have seen men who have beaten from themselves the ability to recognize truth and goodness, and I do not think I am one of them. Not anymore.
I can see the tears in a young child's eyes and feel pain at their suffering.
If I ever lose this, then I will know that I've passed beyond hope of redemption.
                                                  ...

I never thought I'd willingly set foot in The Wooden Barren district, where some of the most notorious bounty hunters reside. I feel like a vulnerable small calf innocently entering a wolves den.

One week, three days, and about eight hours later, the clock on the mantel chimed noon. Captain Luc, Lord of the Bounty Hunters, was late. Then again, so were Revy and Vin, but Luc had no excuse, not when they were already two hours behind schedule. Not when they were meeting in his office. And it wasn't her fault for being tardy. She couldn't control the winds, and those skittish sailors had certainly taken their time sailing into the Black Market and all around Syphorite's sea. She didn't want to think about how much gold Vin had spent bribing a crew to sail into the heart of bounty hunters territory. But The Wooden Barren was on an island, so they hadn't really had a choice about their mode of transportation.
Vin liked being bold. So she didn't wear a mask. She didn't need to wear one because every underworlder alredy knew who she was. Revy, on the other hand, concealed behind a far-too-stuffy black cloak, tunic, and ebony mask. She rose from her seat before this Lord Luc's desk. How dare he make her wait! He knew precisely why they were here, after all.
"With every minute he makes us wait," Revy said to Vin, the mask making her words low and soft, "I'm adding an extra ten gold pieces to his debt."
Vin crossed her arms and scowled. "You'll do no such thing. My broker's letter is sealed, and it's going to remain that way."
"How did you even get a broker in for the bounty hunters anyway?" Replied Revy. "You never cease to amaze me with your ways Vin."
It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance for both of them. Even though they were too vulnerable in the enemy's territory, Revy wanted to return from the wolves den with the pack at her aid.
It's a ridiculous idea but it's too late to turn around now. Even though the tiny, mountainous island and ramshackle port city hadn't really made much of an impression so far.
She'd been expecting a manor house like those from the rich district, or at least a fortified, aging castle, but this Luc Lord occupied the entire top floor of a rather suspect tavern. The ceilings were low, the wooden floors creaked, and the cramped room combined with the already-sizzling temperature of the southern islands meant Revy was sweating buckets beneath her clothing. But her discomfort was worth it: as they'd strode through The Wooden Barren, heads had turned at the sight of her—the billowing black cape, the exquisite clothing, the two red blades at her hips and the mask transformed her into a whisper of darkness. The Red-Clawed Raven was there. A little intimidation never did any harm.
Revy walked to the wooden desk and picked up a piece of paper, her black-gloved hands turning it over to read the contents. A weather log. How dull.
"What are you doing?"
Revy lifted another piece of paper. "If His Lord Hunter can't be bothered to clean for us, then I don't see why I can't have a look."
"He'll be here any second," Vin hissed.
She picked up a flattened map, examining the dots and markings along the coastline of their continent. Something small and round gleamed beneath the map, and she slipped it into her pocket before Vin could notice.
"Oh, hush," she said, opening the hutch on the wall adjacent to the desk. "With these creaky floors, we'll hear him a mile off." The hutch was crammed with rolled scrolls, quills, the odd coin, and some very old, very expensive-looking brandy. She pulled out a bottle, swirling the amber liquid in the sunlight streaming through the tiny porthole window. "Care for a drink?"
"No," Vin snapped, half-twisting in her seat to watch the door. "Put it back. Now."
She cocked her head, twirled the brandy once more in its crystal bottle, and set it down. Vin sighed. Beneath her mask, Revy grinned.
"He can't be a very good lord," she said, "if this is his personal office." Vin gave a stifled cry of dismay as Revy plopped into the giant armchair behind the desk and set about opening the bounty hunter's ledgers and turning over his papers. His handwriting was cramped and near-illegible, his signature nothing more than a few loops and jagged peaks.
She didn't know what she was looking for, exactly. Her brows rose a bit at the sight of a piece of purple, perfumed paper, signed by someone named Jacqueline. She leaned back in the chair, propping her feet on the desk, and read it.
"Damn it, Revy! This is exactly why I hate taking you with me!"
She raised her brows, but realized Vin couldn't see. The mask and clothes were a necessary precaution, one that made it far easier to protect her identity.
Revy huffed, though her breath only made the interior of the insufferable mask hotter. All that the world knew about The Red-Clawed Raven, was that she was female. And she wanted to keep it that way. How else would she be able to stroll the broad avenues of Syphorite or infiltrate grand parties by posing as foreign nobility? Or, even become a knight? And while she wished that this Luc could have the chance to admire her lovely face, she had to admit that the disguise also made her rather imposing, especially when the mask warped her voice into a growling rasp.
"Get back in your seat." Vin reached for a sword that wasn't there. The guards at the entrance to the inn had taken their weapons. Of course, none of them had realized that Vin and Revy were weapons themselves. They could kill Luc just as easily with their bare hands.
"Or you'll fight me?" She tossed the love letter onto the desk. "Somehow, I don't think that'd make a favorable impression on our new acquaintances." She crossed her arms behind her head, gazing at the turquoise sea visible between the dilapidated buildings that made up The Wooden Barren.
Vin half-rose from her chair. "Just get back in your seat."
"I've spent the past 10 hours sailing at sea. Why should I sit in that uncomfortable chair when this one's far more suited to my tastes?" "Vin let out a growl. Before she could speak, the door opened.
Vin froze, but Revy only inclined her head in greeting as Captain Luc, Lord of the Bounty Hunters, entered his office.
"I'm glad to see you've made yourself at home." The tall, dark-haired man shut the door behind him. Bold move, considering who was waiting in his office.
Revy remained where she sat. But hear heart sank the moment she saw him. It was the same orange-eyed man from Satyr's tavern. Lucian. What a bothersome coincidence. The Bounty Hunter's leader certainly wasn't what she'd expected. It wasn't every day that she was surprised, but ... she'd imagined him to be someone entirely different.
He's so young. Considering the tales she'd heard of Luc's wild adventures, she had trouble believing that this man—lean but not wiry, well dressed but not overtly so, and probably in his mid twenties—was the legendary Bounty Hunter. Perhaps he, too, kept his identity a secret from his enemies.
Vin stood, bowing her head slightly. "Selena Cortland," she said by way of greeting. That was the name she used in all of her meetings in the city's underworld. Thankfully, it seems he doesn't remember Vin.
Lucian extended a hand, and Revy watched his tattooed palm and fingers as they clasped Vin's elegant hand. The map—that was the mythic map that he'd sold his soul to have inked on his hands. The map of the world's oceans—the map that changed to show storms, foes ... and treasure. He must have a passion for the sea as well.
"I suppose you don't need an introduction." Lucian turned to her.
"No." Revy leaned back farther in his desk chair. "I suppose I don't."
Lucian chuckled, a crooked smile spreading across his handsome foxy face. He stepped to the hutch, giving her the chance to examine him further. Broad shoulders, head held high, a casual grace to his movements that came with knowing he had all the power here. He didn't have a sword, either. Another bold move. Wise, too, given that they could easily use his weapons against him. "Brandy?" he asked.
"No, thank you," Vin said. Revy felt Vin's eyes hard upon her, willing her to take her feet off Lucian's desk.
"With that mask on," Lucian mused, "I don't think you could have a drink, anyway." He poured brandy for himself and took a long sip. "You must be boiling in all that clothing."
Revy lowered her feet to the ground as she ran her hands along the curved edge of his desk, stretching out her arms. "I'm used to it."
Lucian drank again, watching her for a heartbeat over the rim of his glass. His eyes were a striking shade of sandstone orange, as bright as the chimney fire burning at the side of the room. Lowering the glass, he approached the end of the desk. "I don't know how you handle things in the North, but down here, we like to know who we're speaking to."
She cocked her head. "As you said, I don't need an introduction. And as for the privilege of seeing my beautiful face, I'm afraid that's something few men receive."
Luc's tattooed fingers tightened on the glass. "Get out of my chair."
Across the room, Vin tensed. Revy examined the contents of Lucian's desk again. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "You really need to work on organizing this mess."
She sensed him grabbing for her shoulder and was on her feet before his fingers could graze the black wool of her cloak. Although young to the eye, he stood a good head taller than her. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, she crooned."