The Hunter

Chapter 1 - The Last Job

Laid back in his favorite chair, John settled himself down contently for the night. The opened window facing him overlooked the dwindling streets of Cohpa, two stories below him. Spring rain had befallen the capital of Kalian for the umpteenth time and John had decided to enjoy the late night rain over a glass of wine. Across the street, a lone violinist tried to make a few extra coins, his shadow being tossed about by the street’s well kept lamp lights.

Taking a sip, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound he had called music twenty-six years ago. Remembering the rain drops from his prison, his relaxed mind brought on images--images that had been increasing in number over the past thirty years.

A headless corpse. Boria. The back of a Ghourdian woman’s dress being ripped to shreds by energy. A redhead in robes of white, head bowed over him. Blood. Celia running out the grand doors of a room being filled with darkness. Crying. Weeping. Screaming. Death.

John calmly took another drink--a little deeper this time.

His blood began to hum and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Only recently had the odd sensation started appearing after the horrific images.

And then the distinct sound of a woman’s heartbeat combined with her footsteps came to his ears. Mentally sighing, he patiently waited as the woman climbed the stairs to his loft’s floor. When he judged the woman to be within hearing distance, John said, “’And the heavens opened up as the Gods cried down upon their people.’”

“’Why? Why!’” Anna finished the quote from the Book of Virtues, obviously not humored by the pun.

“This is the fourth time this week,” John said as his Roof Mistress walked into his modest flat, raindrops cascading down her cloak to his floor.

His eyes narrowed on the growing pool at her feet. “You could at least clean up after yourself on these pointless visits.”

She looked down at where he was looking and immediately let out an unladylike curse. The blond woman that could stop-a-man’s-heart-at-a-glance quickly unstrung her cloak and draped it unceremoniously across the window sill in front of him.

“It’s Lord Broc. He wants three hundred and the ladies are thinking about taking it. I thought you would want to know--even if you don’t give a damn about it.”

Setting his glass down on a low end table, John pursed his lips. “You are trying to trick me.”

Around the time he had gotten out of prison--thanks to Maxine’s quick talking and mounds of forged paperwork--John had gone back to the family he had given Ronin to care for. The father of five girls had fallen onto bad times. Kind at heart, the man had refused to sell his daughters into slavery. The plan had been to breed Ronin with another horse and to sell the offspring. To say the man’s luck went from bad to worse would have been an understatement. Ronin’s partner died during birth along with the offspring. And then the tax collectors started knocking on their door just after a harsh drought. Long story short, the man had fended off the debt collectors for as long as he could without selling Ronin or his daughters. It was on the man’s last day to pay up when John showed up at the Tuton family’s door.

With the help of Maxine, John had paid off the man’s debt and bought the local inn, giving them the small place for their troubles. Refusing to accept the inn, the old man demanded they worked for their money. Maxine, seeing a teaching opportunity, used the inn as a lesson in economics. The small project quickly turned into a large profit and they expanded. Years later, John was the richest unknown man in the country--even if he denounced it. The Tuton family had grown over the years and now all the daughters, and their daughters, managed most of the major inns.

It was during the sudden growth, and around Maxine’s mournful death, that John created the fictitious Marcus Crown. Suddenly all the inns were renamed to Sev3n and a mysterious man by the name of High Merchant Marcus Crown became a rising star. Anna, the legal Roof Mistress of Marcus Crown, had been hand picked by John to manage Sev3n as his proxy. Not only did they own inns but most of the trades that were involved in running the Sev3ns. Everything from farms to supplying the establishments with food to schools to train the slaves they took in. From the start, with Maxine’s tutelage, they had planned out how they could theoretically own every inn in every land--making the ‘day’s ride’ rule. Anyone could reach a Sev3n inn in a days ride from anywhere…starting with Kalian. Now, Marcus Crown held a monopoly on the Kalian’s inns and, from Anna’s recent tan, the Ce’l Empire was next.

“Trick you? Trick you! You… You are the most complex man I have ever met!” Anna fumbled over the words as if to say something more meaningful, but couldn’t think of the right words to say.

“Why is it so hard to believe that I don’t want the money?” John exasperated, thoroughly enjoying the old argument.

“What man in their right mind would not want to be Marcus Crown--a man worth millions?”

“It’s that high now?” he mused, hiding his mirth behind his innocent face.

She glared and shook her finger at him like how any mother would do to her unruly children. “When you grow up and stop running around with that rag tag gang of yours, and start acting like a sane man, you come find me.”

“For a woman who is merely supposed to act like Marcus’s Roof Mistress, you really stay in character.” He had always enjoyed pushing the blonde’s buttons.

She puffed a stray strand of hair out of her face and sat down with a loud exhale. Calming herself, and her dress, the ruffled woman said, “You obviously don’t like nobles. I get that. Now grow up. Take responsibility. Sev3n needs you. The ladies are all squabbling about which direction the company should be going. If you don’t intervene, those--women are going to rip apart what you created.”

She paused and John watched her artfully switch her attack plan like a General.

“While I don’t get why you want to live like a poor man and take on odd jobs with that team of yours, I do know when I see a man who is running from something. And, for the record, I am your Roof Mistress.”

Mia and Celia’s faces came to him and he had to reach for his wine glass to cover his emotions. Anna was much like the two women he regretted for leaving--one dead, and the other either ruling a court somewhere or married off to some poor bastard.

Pulling the wineglass from his lips, John said, “Only because that’s the only way a slave can help in a man’s business. I should have picked another woman. Less blunt, I think.”

Her glare intensified and he mocked her with a salute of his glass. As he brought the dry wine to his lips for another sip, he said, “Tell them not to accept anything less than five hundred.”

When he rested his head back, eyes closing, Anna laughed. “He wouldn’t go a penny above three hundred crowns much less two hundred crowns.”

Savoring the flavor of the wine, John swallowed slowly. “Because he is showing you the times he has been to Sev3n, and only Sev3n. I…acquired…knowledge of his other finances. He spent an average of three hundred crowns more at other establishments. The reports are on the kitchen table. Once he sees those he will push for four hundred. Tell him five hundred once. If he says no, leave. I’d bet you the farm that he stops you three steps from the door. If he tries to go for four-fifty, you raise the offer to five-fifty. We can afford to loose him. He can’t.”

“I know how to negotiate.” Anna’s eyes darted to the folder neatly arranged on the wobbly table in the kitchen. “You knew all along?”

John opened a lone eye and laughed. “After the second visit, I put two and two together. Besides the fact that you are playing games with me, the problem lies in the fact that the ladies are low balling themselves. I thought you had them under control.”

She stiffened as if he had slapped her. “They have been getting more and more--aggressive lately. Ever since he died…”

He only nodded. They all wanted to continue the legacy their old man had left for them, and they all wanted to take the company even further but they each had different ideas.

“Listen. They know the old man respected you. They know The Backer was your idea. They see the results. Show yourself as Marcus Crown. They will listen to you. Please.” It was then that John saw what he had never seen before in his business associate and confidant. She was pleading.

He had chosen her on the day he’d opened their first school. At the time, they had just started to expand and were getting both runaway slaves and poor father’s children. Before the school, there had been too many slaves coming in, and too many new Sev3ns, to train new help fast enough. The school had been the old man’s idea and probably one of his greatest achievements. At the school, every slave not only learned how to do all the little things they would need to know to run a Sev3n but also how to read and write. The teachers would make note of the exceptional students and those became potential Mistresses and Masters of their own inns. It was a well thought-out system.

Anna had been one of those potential Mistresses. She had also been one of the runaway slaves. There were no laws to protect slaves from brutality, and rape was a grey area in the law. Many slaves risked fleeing but only few got away, and those that didn’t didn’t try again. It wasn’t until only recently that the Empire’s sway in Tekal had pushed every nation to enforce the Slave’s Keep law--a law that let a slave work towards their keep, buying their freedom when they met it.

What he had seen in her that fateful day, though, had been nothing like what he had seen in any of the other slaves. Defiance. And smart as hell.

She was one of the very few people that knew he was immortal. In fact, the only other person who knew was a rouge mage that loved his research enough to lend his services for the right financing.

They fell into a comfortable silence. John watching Anna. Anna watching him. Occasionally taking a sip. Rain falling softly in the background. Music.

And then John picked out the steps of two people. A man and a woman. When they got close enough for him to hear their heartbeats over the rainfall, he straightened.

Anna, seeing his sudden change, turned toward the window he was looking out. “Tina?”

“Aye.”

“Too late for me to get out without notice.”

“Aye.”

“Want me to leave?”

And this is why I don’t want to be Marcus bloody Crown, John thought bitterly. Anna was acting his slave again, subtly of course. It had taken him a whole year to break her out of the habit of calling him Master--even though John caught her occasionally saying it.

“No. It’s fine.”

She settled herself and they both waited for the two soldiers. Tina, his second, was first to enter. The man with her was Mike.

“Top,” Tina said in greeting. They all had nicknames that they had come up with over the years.

“T. Fletch. What’s the occasion?”

The two hesitated upon seeing Anna. They didn’t know who she was or her relationship to John but they had seen her before.

If they only knew, it was a thought that brought a smile to John. He hadn’t smiled often since Maxine’s death and Mike took notice. Tina’s eyes were trained on Anna when she said, “Jack and Ben are finishing that thing up. He com’ed me, they weren’t happy the way we did it. Cut in payment. Top… the team was hoping we could go for a bigger job next time.”

John had given them all mindlinks, which they all fondly refer to as com’s, and sa’dkas. The later was almost required in their line of work since the cities in Kalian outlawed any weapon longer than six inches--only Peacekeepers were allowed the heavier weapons. While John was a mystery to his men, they were loyal. Maxine’s less than ethical teachings had been put to a different use than what she had intended. They were mercs.

Their last job was both a success and a failure, the later being out of their control. They had been charged to kill a High Merchant’s son and to make it look like a Caprian did it. Everything from Caprian poison to a stray red hair was used. The deal was one death, however, not two. Another hitter had came in just after they had, killing the father. Just their luck.

“Jack already gambled his share away?” John sighed.

“It’s not that Top.” It was Mike this time. “Ben has his son now and--well, money is starting to dry up from our last big one.”

Again the two eyed Anna, as if she were a spy.

Reaching into his pocket, John pulled out a gold crown. Rolling the crown across his knuckles absently, he debated. Looking between Tina and Anna he made a decision.

Flipping the coin into the air, he let it drop to the carpeted ground.

Crown.

“T, grab that sealed envelope on the mantle.”

Tina walked across his small living room to the fireplace. Picking the envelope up, she examined the seal as she crossed the rest of the floor space to him.

“High Lord Victor?”

“Aye.”

Anna shifted in her seat, drawing Mike’s eye. Watching her, Mike said, “I thought that was against your rules. Stay low and, if you have to, only take Minor Lords. I specifically remember that one.”

Grabbing the white parchment from Tina, he broke the seal. “It is.”

Reading the few lines on it, John tossed the letter into the fireplace.

“Tell the others to meet us at Lord Victor’s manor when they finish.”

“What are you doing?” Anna’s voice floated into John’s conscious. Sikes, John’s rouge mage, had a gift for the earth element. Because of it, the man could make mindlinks and mage glass as if it were nothing. John’s particular mindlink held two crystals, each inside the simple wooden carving that hung from a leather thong around his neck. One led to his team and the other was linked to Anna and Sikes. It had taken John moons to learn how to send messages to the two different groups while wearing both of them, but now he did it almost unconsciously.

“Securing my team’s future. Then you can have your way with me--metaphorically speaking of course.”

Anna’s eyebrows climbed in silent surprise.

Cutting off any further discussion, John said, “Thank you, Anna. Please give my condolences to Lord Broc.”

Let them chew on that, John thought smugly as his two men both eyed Anna curiously.

Anna gave him a low curtsy before picking back up her cloak from the sill and heading out into the rain. Reaching for his own coat, John shrugged into it. Laced with mage glass, the coat could stop anything from a blow from a battle axe to the Gods’ own rain. It was his super coat.

When his Awakenings stopped at the number seven--and after the small heart attack he had when he realized he wasn’t going to have anymore--his need for food when he healed stopped as well, along with a few other ‘perks’. Annoyed with having to stitch up the holes in his clothes when he was stabbed or shot at (or both), he finally sought out for a mage that could make him a mage glass armor. Because of the peculiar properties of mage glass, it was the perfect tool.

The product of his four year search was Sikes. The ingenious lanky young Kalian mage had found a way to integrate mage glass into clothes. Now John’s closet, along with his team’s closets, was lined with clothes made out of mage glass. Short from a bolt to the eye, they were untouchable. It was fair to say the hidden armor contributed to their high success rate.

“You sure about this?” Tina asked as she backed herself out into the desolate landscape.

He cocked an eyebrow and moved passed her without a word. She didn’t speak again until they reached the Royal Courts.

Cohpa was one of the largest cities John had ever seen, and he had seen a number of them during his travels with Maxine. The streets weren’t wide like the Empire but narrow and numerous. Buildings towered to each side and the maze like streets laced the city like a fisherman’s net--but less organized. John lived in the Middle Man’s district, the working class of the city. There were four other districts: Hell’s Kitchen, the Merchant’s Quarters, the Royal Courts, and the Palace. Each district was separated by large walls, like great rings expanding in a pound. The walls got taller and taller the closer you got to the Palace and the number of entrances into the next district became fewer and fewer.

Few people walked beyond their district, especially at night. The Peacekeepers designated at the entrance to the Royal Courts eyed John and his party suspiciously but, after a quick word by Mike, they averted their eyes.

There were seven High Lords, including the King. Each of the seven High Houses had between three to five Minor Houses, all of which had their own fractions. Each House had different alliances with other Houses, some strong while others were fresh and--malleable. It was a complicated political game that made Stones look like child’s play.

The Royal Courts was simple in design. Every House, whether Minor or High, had a mansion in the Royal Courts. Like a spoke’s wheel, each High House--and their respective Minor Houses--had a section of the Royal Courts surrounding the Palace. Two roads ran parallel with the walls, one just outside of the Merchant’s Quarters and one outside of the Palace’s walls. Roads that connected the two circular roads created seven sections. It was similar to having an embassy in another land. Large flags were stationed at the mouth of every mansion’s driveway, sporting the colors of the mansion’s House. High Lord Victor’s manor was almost a league inward, toward the inner ring of the Palace.

“State your name and business,” the guard, dressed in Victor’s House’s colors, gold and white, asked upon their arrival to the mansion’s gates.

“Enigma.” It was the password Victor had given him.

The guard looked John and his companions over suspiciously before giving way to them.

“I don’t know Top. The reception isn’t warm.” Mike’s voice was uneasy.

“When has it ever been warm with the local guard?”

The mansion was the usual. Big. Extravagant. And way too much marble for any single man to own. A slave dressed in white robes with gold accents bowed to John upon their entrance.

“My master has been expecting you for a while now. I will inform him that you have arrived.”

When the slave left, down one of the many hallways that populated the main chamber, Tina whispered aloud, “The plan?”

“See what he has to offer. Bail if it smells.”

A different slave than before came in from a different corridor. “My master will see you now. Please follow me.”

John nodded and they followed the gold and white woman down a long hallway. He had to admit, the Lord had taste. The floor was patterned in different shades of white, creating enticing patterns. Above them, the ceiling was curved and textured in blocks of golden plated squares. The effect of the ceiling and the floor was relaxing--something he noted.

Three twisted turns later, they came to a large double oak door. Inside, rich colors and soft fabrics met John’s eyes. The High Lord Victor himself was sitting behind a desk and a military looking man stood off to his right. The Captain.

“I must confess. I wasn’t expecting to see you,” the Lord said, his voice almost rumbling. The door behind them shut with a click.

“And why is that?” John asked as he strode to the chair in front of the Lord. Both Tina and Mike took up their positions to either side of him as he sat. John pointedly looked the Lord in the eye. While many things had changed over the past few decades since the start of the Tekal Council, the eye contact hadn’t. He was making himself the High Lord’s equal. Many Lords he knew frowned upon it--and a few even kicked him out because of it.

Victor only nodded to himself. “I see the rumors are true. You are a hard man to find.”

“What is the job?”

Yeah. He didn’t like nobles. One of them killed his closest friend--call it a character flaw.

“To the point. Very well. My daughter has had threats recently. I wish for your services.”

Victor’s slight heartbeat elevation, combined with the small tick just under his left eye and the hint of perspiration made John stand. When he started to turn to leave, his men following, Victor stood. “What are you doing?”

John paused. “I don’t deal with liars.” He started for the door again but Victor stopped him.

“Wait…” Victor looked at the Captain and John turned to see the hint of desperation in his body language.

The Captain shrugged. “Your call, my Lord. If my sources are right, they are the best people to have on our side.”

Sides…

Lord Victor nodded. “Please sit.”

John hesitated for only a heartbeat longer before resuming his seat; his relaxed companions taking back up their positions. It wasn’t unusual for them. They knew he could smell a lie a league away and Jack refused to play cards with him because of it.

Victor poured himself a glass of brandy and offered a second glass to John. Shaking his head, John waited him out.

Swirling the liqueur around lazily, he took a sip. The minutes seemed to tick by as the Lord savored the taste.

Finally, Victor laid his glass back down. “You have heard of the recent pirate attacks to the west?” When John nodded, he said, “I have reason to believe they are one of Dresden’s pawns.”

High Lord Dresden was the classic Traditionalist. Over the years, two clashing cultures had emerged. On one side of the fence was the Traditionalist, elitist that believed slaves and women were of the same--along with a few other haughty political views. The Imperialist, the arch nemesis of the Traditionalist, leaned more toward the southern views. Every land had them.

Sensing a pause, John said, “There is more.”

Victor nodded. “A rumor. But I’m sure you know the value of rumors. A High Lord is building a private army to fight against the Imperialists and a man who claims to be a God is leading them.”

“A God?”

“Aye. Says he is immortal and those that follow him can gain similar powers. This ‘God’ I’m told preaches about taking down the demons of the south. Not only is there civil war brewing, but the King is refusing to take on a Maiden.”

The Queen had two miscarriages, the last one the mages had pronounced her barren. The King, naming himself a ‘true’ Imperialist, refused to take on a Maiden. Without any children, his House’s long line of ruling was coming to an end. There had only been two times in the history of Kalian that a King had to claim another High Lord as his heir.

“He wants you to be the next King. But you are too old…” John said slowly. His eyes narrowed when he made the next logical connection. “I see.”

Both the High Lord and the Captain looked at each other. He could almost see that they were afraid.

“A bold move,” John said almost casually, drawing the two men’s eyes to him. “No woman has held the Kalian throne before. And to do it now, of all times…”

Victor’s eyes widened slightly by John’s assumptions and both of his companions behind him shifted their weight to the other foot--a sign of uneasiness.

“You aren’t only expecting a civil war.” He was fairly confident he had read them right and, the way the two men held their silence…

The Captain looked nervously at Lord Victor but his master kept his eyes locked on John.

Holding up his hand, John tried to ease the unsaid worries. “Nothing that is said during contract negotiations leaves these walls by myself or my men. On my honor. The safety of my team comes first, though. If there is anything else you are holding back, I will need to know now.”

Lord Victor took another sip of his brandy and, as he set the glass back down, he said, “Hypothetically speaking, let’s say your assumptions are correct. Worse case scenario, we go to war. How much do you charge for something like that?”

Avoiding the question.

“Hypothetically speaking,” John said slowly, “That would cost two hundred during peace time and five hundred during war time--a moon.”

John knew the High Lord’s finances; he could comfortably afford the war time rate for a year.

“And,” John said raising his finger, “If any one of my team members die, a thousand crowns goes to their family or next of kin. And no one in my team pays taxes in Kalian if we succeed.”

John could feel Tina and Mike stiffening at the terms. They were high.

Lord Victor eased back into his chair slowly, thinking. While he thought, John pointed to the Captain. “Another thing. I will bring change. Many men won’t like it. I will expect complete and total compliance from you and the enforcement of them. Otherwise, you will both waste my time and your money if you hire me.”

The Captain eyed John’s finger as if it were a drawn arrow but slowly he nodded.

Victor tapped his fingers against the tabletop for a full minute and then the sound abruptly stopped. “I will comply with your demands but I have a few requests of my own.”

John only nodded for him to continue.

“If your reputation is even half true, you are a skillful player in the Game of Houses. I require that you personally train Lola in everything you know for at least an hour a day. I also expect a nightly report by you and lastly, that you begin immediately. Without those three demands fulfilled, I cannot do business with you.”

“Why immediately?” John had a feeling it was one of the reasons why the Lord had evaded his last question.

Like flipping a coin, Victor switched roles from Lord to father. “Lola has had a poor taste in--boyfriends. She recently broke up with a strong Traditionalist, thank the stars. Some harsh words were exchanged… He has a lot of influence in the Minor Houses of Darian. The situation is--delicate.”

The High Lord Darian’s House was Victor’s ally, along with High Lord Leroy and King Yuri’s House. The other three Houses, Traditionalist Houses, were Vincint’s, Dresden’s, and Moore’s.

“Where is she now?”

“Club Poison.”

It was one of the many new trends, dance clubs that the young and wealthy went to after sundown. John turned halfway to Tina and nodded. Both Tina and Mike disappeared out the door.

“We are in agreement then. This is how it is going to work.”