Isekai-eh Chapter-19 (Patreon)

“Well, this is promising,” Metsa said as her hand landed on Gwen’s rifle, shoving it down. “What sort of hunter aims their weapon at another person seconds after being pulled out of a collapsing building?”

In the background another loud crash sounded as a section of floor and wall from the building they’d just exited caved inwards, perfectly punctuating her point.

“Who’s he?” Gwen asked, ignoring the question and destruction both.

“Our trainee. And at this point, I’m thinking he’s going to be the only one,” Metsa said, which seemed to finally get through to the woman who’d had her rifle locked on Jed.

“What? No, please. I’m sorry,” Gwen said, turning towards Metsa, rifle finally dropping.

“Answer the damn question. What reason do you have for aiming a loaded weapon at part of my team?” Metsa asked, arms crossed as she stared up into Gwen’s face, the building once more crashing down further.

Which was when Jed realized Gwen was a good half foot taller than the fierce woman who was playing the part of his mentor.

Not that the extra height leant her the same weight.

Gwen failed to respond, simply clamping her mouth shut as she glanced towards Sotas, as if hoping to appeal to him. The frown etched across his face didn’t look too promising, in Jed’s opinion. Honestly, it was kinda amusing. He’d been the one who’d had the gun pointed at him and he was probably the least upset. Maybe ‘cause he was the only one who could sense it was fully discharged?

“I think, perhaps we leave her,” Sotas said, shaking his head. “If even this question is too difficult to answer.”

“What?” Gwen asked, nearly dropping her rifle. “For pointing my gun at an imperial plant?”

“For not answering the damn question, idiot girl,” Metsa said, shaking her head. “He’s no more imperial than you are. Probably less.”

“That’s a high imperial accent, and only their marshals have that dirty blonde hair,” Gwen said, pointing at Jed’s rough cut hair.

“Girl, you need to see more of the ring,” Metsa said, shaking her head, setting her ringlets bobbing along. “Neither of those are true.”

“I… but all the marshals…”

“In Vaskerville, yeah,” Metsa said, gesturing towards the buggy. “Typical nepotism. Every one of ‘em’s part of the Boltom family. How do you know their hair and not know that?”

Gwen mumbled something Jed didn’t catch from where he was still standing next to Sotas, running a hand through his hair. He supposed it was sorta the same color as the marshals’.

“Not used to being around others, this one,” Sotas said, shaking his head. “Am sure she will warm.”

Jed nodded, though his gaze was already back on the collapsed hotel and the surrounding area. So much had been abandoned. While it wasn’t his job to fix it, the fact he was likely one of the few people who could… there was an opportunity there, he figured. The station would deal with it in time, but until then…

Well, it wasn’t like he was equipped to survive out here anyway. Not on his own. He’d talk about it with Metsa and Sotas, later, when they didn’t have Gwen in tow.

Making his way back to the buggy alongside Sotas, he climbed up on the back, figuring Metsa would want to have words with her newest trainee.

“Ah, it is good to see you embracing the freedom of the outdoors,” Sotas said, clapping Jed on the back.

“You boys good up there?” Metsa called, only closing her door after receiving both their confirmation.

Then the vehicle roared to life, and Jed discovered just how much the doors muffled the rumble. He could feel the vibration of the engine bouncing back from the nearby building as it ruffled his shirt.

“When we return, new clothes we will buy you,” Sotas said, barely audible over the rumbling buggy despite yelling, having apparently noticed Jed’s inspection of his shirt and misinterpreted the reason.

Jed nodded back, hands wrapped around the roll bar as Metsa turned them back towards civilization, being a great deal more gentle than she’d been on their way out.

“It’s a good idea. The outpost’s work is too shoddy. And proud as I am of my work, I was never a seamstress, so returning to my outfit would be a poor idea. Also, if anyone recognized the material, the girl wouldn’t be the only one calling you an imperial.”

“The material’s imperial?” Jed asked in a low voice, not worried if Sotas overheard him, though not sure if Mythlyn would be able to pick it up.

“It came from the Great Eye. Of course it’s imperial.”

“So, we’ve spent the last ten years eating imperial pudding, and you didn’t even tell me,” Jed said, shaking his head.

Her laughter echoed in his head, and they continued bantering semi privately as the buggy carried them back towards the light.

He’d missed it on the way out, but there were wooden towers along the edge of the shadow district, with warning signs plastered around the edge, telling people that they entered at their own risk.

It was strange that there was no fence. He felt like there should be a fence, so much so he mentioned it out loud.

Having moved into an occupied area, the backblast from the buggy had reduced to a more reasonable frequency, which meant Sotas didn’t have any trouble hearing Jed’s comment. “The fence, it was tried. But too much work to repair, when impatient hunters break it down.” The last was said with a smile as he patted the roof of the buggy.

It wasn’t long after that they rolled up in front of the Hunter’s Hall once more, despite the much thicker foot traffic than when they’d left.

“When shopping, we will go on foot, I think,” Sotas said, clapping a hand on Jed’s shoulder. “Will be good for you to see Vaskerville from the ground.”

“I’d like that,” Jed said in agreement as they passed through the massive doors into the warehouse full of buggy berths. He took a better look at each of the vehicles as they passed, and noted that other than all having at least four massive wheels and a lot of armor, there wasn’t much similarity between them. The most distinct was the variety of skulls mounted on each. Some only had a couple simple skulls, while one buggy had more skulls than it did armor.

He counted a total of eight bays, half of which were currently occupied with a vehicle. The one he’d seen on the hoist the day before was gone, on to their next task, he assumed.

When Cella rolled into her berth, Jed noted the arms pulling away slightly before settling back into position. Metsa shut off the engine, and the comparative silence left his ears ringing. So much so that when he climbed down the back after Sotas, he fumbled the landing, needing to grab the nearby workbench to steady himself.

Which was when Gwen opened her door to the buggy to make her own descent. She shook her head at him even as he was straightening out, though she held her tongue.

Metsa didn’t. “Let’s get you two inside, get Gerty to finish up the paperwork, then we’ll go shopping for some basic kit for the both of you.”

“I have kit,” Gwen huffed.

“Girl, you were in a shadow district without amber eyes or a warp cloak,” Metsa said, glaring at Gwen whose posture immediately collapsed. “You’re lucky you didn’t stumble across a rift.”

“I thought… I thought rifts didn’t form in the shadow districts. Only close to the edge,” Gwen said.

“Where do you think all those demons come from? They’re not breeding, I can tell you that much,” Metsa said, shaking her head as she motioned them all to follow her towards the lift. “No. Might be hard to see the rifts, but they’re there. Ain’t a spot on the ring that’s immune. Most are hidden inside buildings or valleys no one visits, but they’re there.”

“It is known,” Sotas said, nodding.

“Yet more evidence of the Empress’ failure. There was a time when no one on the ring would fear demons.”

“See, this is the sort of thing you need a mentor to know,” Gwen said, jogging forward to walk beside Metsa.

“Or one could read,” Sotas said, handing a book to Jed.

Jed raised an eyebrow, not having noticed the large man pick up the book until it landed in his hands. Then he looked down at the cover and chuckled. “Sotas’ guide to surviving hex six-oh-six?”

“Is good book,” Sotas said, patting Jed on the back. “I would know.”

“Yeah, you would,” Jed said in agreement as he opened the book and started paging through it. It included more pictures than he’d been expecting, each of them rough sketches. “Huh. Didn’t know you were an artist.”

“Is not art,” Sotas said as they entered a smaller lift next to the big one they’d rode to the top the other day. “Just pictures.”

“What’s not art?” Gwen asked, finally noticing the book now that the four of them were practically standing atop each other.

“Sotas, you gave him your book?” Metsa asked, arms crossed and a smile tugging at her lips. “Didn’t think that was ready yet.”

“Is not finished,” Sotas said with a shrug. “But helpful, I think, for one such as Jed.”

Metsa’s gaze shifted over to Jed, silence broken only by the rattling of the lift as she looked at him. She nodded right as the smaller lift came to a stop. “Yeah. And who knows, maybe he’ll be able to help you finish it.”

“Doubt I’ll be able to help with that,” Jed said with a wry chuckle.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Sotas said, patting Jed’s back as Metsa once more led the way, Gwen half a step behind her.

There were more people in the Hunter’s Hall as they made their way over to Gerty than the first time. One of them was a rail thin man with a dark gray cloak and black cowboy hat. He turned to watch them as Metsa approached.

Both he and their group remained silent as Gerty etched neat lines on her paper. Deciding not to pry, Jed stood back, inspecting the dark clothed man. He had two revolvers at his waist, each of them a bright silver with ivory handles that Jed could feel through his warp senses.

“Metsa,” the man said, nodding to her after a few seconds of silent consideration.

“Somnus,” Metsa nodded back. “Haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“Been on the far side of the ring. Too many black coats poking their noses about Vaskerville lately,” Somnus said, shaking his head.

“Had a few drop by the Down ‘n Dirty last night,” Metsa said, arms crossed, fingers rolling along her shirt sleeve.

“Think they own the place,” Somnus said, hands resting on the revolvers at his waist. “Next time I see them, I swear.”

“Dead marshals in the streets of Vaskerville won’t do anyone any good,” Metsa reminded him, her hand shifting to rest on her shotgun. “No matter how much it’d improve the decor.”

“Ha, well said,” Somnus said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be in town for a few days. Got some trouble to sort out. We should get a drink. Been too long since I’ve been up to the Down ‘n Dirty.”

“This would be good,” Sotas said, nodding.

“Your bounty has been registered,” Gerty said, interrupting the conversation after blowing another handful of black dust on the page.

“Thanks Gerty,” Somnus said, turning back to the woman and collecting a handful of black tokens. With a final nod to Metsa, he set out.

“Hate hunters like that,” Gwen grumbled.

“Really?” Jed replied. “Thought you’d appreciate someone who dislikes marshals.”

“He’s all talk. Running away from the real fight,” Gwen said, her face drawing into a frown as Gerty’s gaze landed on her.

“I see you were able to save my fool of a granddaughter,” Gerty said, pushing off her stool which unfolded to reveal it was an assembly of four spindly metallic arms affixed to her back. They served to steady her steps as she came closer to Gwen. The two women exchanged glares for several seconds. Then Gerty slapped Gwen’s cheek. While Gwen was still reaching up to rub her cheek, the smaller woman pulled her into a fierce hug.

“Sorry grams,” Gwen said with flushing cheeks as she noticed the rest of them watching.

“You managed to leave out it was your granddaughter you were sending us after,” Metsa said, arms crossed.

“Wanted you to take her on without it being a favor,” Gerty said, waving a metallic finger under Metsa’s nose as she moved back to her desk. “I know better than to owe your type favors.”

“Speaking of not doing favors, I think we deserve half those crowns now. The actual payment, that is,” Metsa said, leaning over Gerty’s desk.

“A quarter, with the next quarter in a week, assuming you haven’t gotten her killed,” Gerty shot back, eyes narrowed.

Metsa thought for a second before nodding, tapping the book.

Gerty nodded, then started recording the transaction.

“So… Gerty’s your gram, huh?” Jed said from next to Gwen.

She didn’t reply, simply rolling her eyes and turning away.

Shrugging, Jed turned his attention to the rest of the Hunter’s Hall, inspecting the other hunters. Most had custom gear, though he noted several commonalities, such as heavy cloaks or dusters and amber lensed goggles hanging loose.

Both of which he’d seen Sotas and Metsa wearing when he first met them, though Sotas seemed to avoid both unless they expected action.

“Okay,” Metsa said after collecting a handful of black tokens from Gerty. “You two are going to be spending the next few months stepping all over each other, so first step in your training is proving you can work together when the only thing on the line is your pride.”

“You won’t be disappointed, Metsa,” Gwen said, bowing her head towards the other woman.

“What’s our mission?” Jed asked, fighting down a smile at Gwen’s behavior.

“Get proper gear. You both need a proper warp resistant shroud and goggles,” Metsa said, gesturing to the room at large. “And you need a more discreet weapon and some more outfits. Your clothes offend me.”

Jed nodded. He wasn’t the biggest fan either.

“Since you’re not used to prices around here, I’m gonna get the girl to hold the chits,” Metsa said, handing over a significant fraction of the tokens Gerty had just given her. “Try not to lose them.”

“I won’t,” Gwen swore as she carefully started slotting the chits into subtle pockets hidden all about her outfit.

“That’s an impressive number of pockets,” Jed said.

“Never too many pockets,” Gwen replied without looking up from her work.

“Right. Well, you two should be able to get everything you need here in the Hall,” Metsa said, clapping Jed on the shoulder. “We’ll leave you to it. We still have to wrap up our last trip.”

Jed nodded, looking about the hall. He was glad Gwen was a local, since he had no clue where to look, and the Hunter’s Hall seemed to be averse to using signs.

After Sotas and Metsa had started down their lift, Gwen cleared her throat.

“Come on, boy,” Gwen said, gesturing for him to follow her towards one of the lifts.

Jed raised an eyebrow, though he fell in beside her. “You know, I wouldn’t put you past twenty-five,” he said as he fell in behind her. “Which would give me a decade on you, if true.”

Gwen’s eyes narrowed as she looked him over. “Twenty-nine. Pretty soft living, to look so young at thirty-five.”

“Other than the occasional warp demon, the last few years were pretty easy,” Jed agreed.

“And the imminent destruction of trillions of lives hanging over your head every day. Truly, you had no worries at all.”

Jed let out a soft chuckle, which earned him a raised eyebrow from Gwen, but he just waved her off and she grunted.

They arrived at a rickety set of stairs that led downward. Jed found himself keeping a good grip on the railing as they went, the stairs seeming to bob and shift with every step.

After five landings, Gwen turned off the side, leading them through a dark hall overhung with loose cables and all the signs the rest of the hall seemed to lack. They promised everything from a full head of hair to a pet rock that could sing lullabies. Half the signs were pasted over with others, and even more were burnt or peeling away.

None of them gave useful directions, though he supposed that with just the single hallway, he might not need any more.

After another dozen steps, he heard a murmuring. It got much louder when Gwen hauled open a door he’d mistaken for yet another part of the wall, covered in posters as it’d been.

There was a bustling market on the other side of the door, with a large skylight letting in the midday sun. They were still three stories above the main floor, but there were several permanent looking shops on their level. One of which seemed to be Gwen’s destination.

Unlike most of the shops, which had clear displays of their merchandise, the shop she was leading him towards was little more than thick steel panels with a narrow entrance.

The florescent pink lettering over its doorway had a solid third of the letters dark, yet Jed was still able to pick out the name.

The Hunter’s Quarry.