Chronicles 1: Revenge

Chapter 17 - The Anticria Outlanders

As Lincoln awoke the next morning, he went out to talk to Mackeroy. Sitting by the fire, drinking from his bottle as per usual, he sat, contemplating. Lincoln sat next to him on the snowy ground, and they talked.

"I thought about it. You should take some time to find and hire some mercenaries." Said Lincoln.

"Will you all be safe here?" Asked Mackeroy.

"I suppose." Answered Lincoln, pulling a flask out of his jacket and drinking some, then lighting a cigar.

"Where did you get all those cigars, anyway?" Asked Mackeroy after a few seconds of silence.

"My father gave them to me before I left the house. Too many to smoke in 2 lifetimes." Answered Lincoln. "They were bacto farmers."

"I'll head down from the mountain. I wish you and the rest well." Said Mackeroy, taking one last drink from his bottle, corking it, and heading to the muffalos.

Lincoln waved goodbye to him, then sat by the fire for a few hours. As Mackeroy rode down the mountain, gradually the snowfall turned into crisp air, and the air into light chills, as he entered the forests below. He rode for days, finally reaching a small settlement of outlanders.

Outlanders are groups of people who don't accept control from any governments, perfect to hire as mercenaries. Their settlement was guarded by wooden walls and a gate, with a guard protecting it. Mackeroy walked up to the guard, who was on the other side of the gate.

The guard moved his hand to his holstered pistol, looking Mackeroy up and down before speaking.

"Whatchu want?" He barked in an unrefined accent.

"My employer wishes to hire you and your people." Answered Mackeroy.

"Lemme see the silver, then I'll letcha in." He ordered, moving his hand away from his pistol.

Mackeroy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the pouch, moving it so the coins jingled. "Good enough?" He asked.

"S'pose so." Answered the guard, moving away to open the gate.