Inkslayer

Chapter 1: The First Drop

It started with a letter. Not the letter of the law, as the Coilhunter would've preferred. No, it was pen and paper, and a poisonous ink.

To receive mail in any part of Altadas was a pleasure, but in the Wild North—where the postmen carried more guns than mail—it was a rare joy.

That's what made this method of killing so callous. It turned those periodic moments of glee into something terrible—until you looked over your shoulder for fear of parchment as much as the usual fear of lead.

And that's what made the Coilhunter bump Ink Brannon, dubbed the Inkslayer, to the top of his list. Not a list made of ink. No, a list etched into the fibres of his brain—and there was only one way of rubbing those names out.

He stood in the doorway of the Bounty Booth, casting his long, intimidating shadow right down to where Logan Hardwell stood behind the counter. His shadow might've been the first thing you saw, with the silhouette of his cowboy hat, mask, long coat, and many guns. And sometimes—in the worst of times—it was the last thing you saw.

"I'd say 'good morning', Nox," Logan said, straightening up his uniform, "but there isn't much good about it."

Nox let the body he was dragging slump to the ground. "I don't know 'bout that."

"Tidbit Timmons, huh?"

"Just the one," the Coilhunter rasped, "but to me he was more the Man Who Made the Inkslayer's Ink."

"Well, let's hope that puts a stop to it."

"It won't," Nox said, glancing at the empty wall. There used to be several rows of Wanted posters there, with different names, faces and rewards, but that same sense of calling to the Coilhunter. Now folk feared the paper just as much as the people drawn upon it.

"We had to stop issuing them," Hardwell said. "For ... for safety."

Your safety? Nox thought. Tearing down those posters certainly wouldn't make the Wild North a safer place.

Nox sighed. "Now ain't that convenient for 'im."

"It's the best we can do."

"No," Nox said. "The best you can do is catch 'im."

"This isn't our jurisdiction." And Hardwell wasn't lying. The Iron Empire issued the bounties, because it was the only way they could pull strings in that lawless place. The wilderness rebelled against everyone, but most of all it rebelled against empires.

"You're right there," Nox said. "It's mine."

He turned to leave, but Hardwell called after him. "Your reward."

Nox glanced back, then down at the body. "This was just a drop," he said. "You give me that reward when I bring back the whole bottle."