It took nearly an hour for Krix to locate Brugar in the haze. Sitting lonesome, mumbling a tune of the Huskmen in the north.
"You blundering fool… Where have you been?"
Burgars brows pulled together. "I tried to find him, Master...Honest."
"Looks like you've been picking at a scab…"
The giant man turned his right elbow, glancing down at the brownish-hardened flesh, now torn and bleeding.
"It was itching…"
"Itching!" Krix pulled his whip and gave it a crack. Brugar groaned, grabbing his purpled wrist. "I was out there alone. I could've been killed…"
"Sorry—"
"Don't you forget," He reached up and grabbed the mans collar, pulling him down to his level, "that you're indebted to me...I saved your life and you must return the favor."
"Yes, Master…" That was the way of a Huskman. If one saved your life you were indebted to that one and must return the favor, for no man could live in debt. Brugar lips sunk. "I guess we lost him—"
"Course we hadn't, you fool! Do you think I am a man who'd let him get away?"
The big man twiddled his thumbs, "You've done so in the past..."
"That's besides the point!" Krix said, his face reddening like a cherry. "Of course I had to do all the work...again. That'll be less pay for you, ya hear."
"Understand…" Brugar raised a bushy eyebrow, looking around the man.
"What are you doing?"
"Um...Master...If you caught him." He stammered, pulling on his sleeve. "Where's he at?"
Krix smirked, pulling out a cigar and matches, lighting it and puffing until a cloud masked his face. "He's dead…"
"Dead? Don't we need the body—"
"Let me teach you something," Krix leaned against the large man, and he stood like boulder; a large, sweaty boulder that smelt like old shoes. "Sometimes information is better than a body." He took a step back, smelling the sleeve of his coat. The odor had carried over and the man lips sunk.
Brugar lifted an arm, drawing air through his gaping nostrils. He shook his head, even appalled by the stink.
"That's right...you need a long bath." The man blew a smoke ring and coughed.
"What are we to do with information?"
The whip cracked and Brugar whimpered. "Use your head, you useless ape! This information is more valuable than a meeble bounty…" He smirked, adjusting his coat and bowgun. "Those tickets into the tournament is as good as ours…" Where I can get back at him, Krix thought. He waved his hand, "let's be off. We can get to the bounty bar by dusk."
By the time they reached Wildie & Rons, the stars sparkled like impressed eyes, staring down at the them in wonder.
The two barged through the doors and stopped in their tracks. The bounty hideout was an uproar; rowdy cheers and clattering glass rang while Mitch "The Horn" Mason raised made what some would believe was a grin; a slight lift of the right side of his lip.
"Settle down ya bunch of heathen...
Krix's nose wrinkled and he turned towards the man flipping cards, playing another hand of snakes.
"What's going on?" Krix asked. The man paid him not heed, still angered about the other night. Krix leaned lower, "I said, what's going on—"
"What's going on is you're too late!" Mitch chuckled, his arm around a woman wearing too few leather and showing too much skin. "I've already got the tickets...I'm in the Iron Alchemist tournament."
Krix glanced at the wall where the bounty posters hung. The two spades were missing, only leaving a square where the dust failed to land.
"The NightNgales," he snarled. "They've been capture? No!" He slammed his hand down rattling the card.
Ron glared through the wrinkles on his face. Teeth clenched. Looking to break the promise he made to Wilde.
"That'll be enough out of you two!" The large woman said, wearing a satin black gown and lipstick red as blood. She glared. "You're late, get over it!"
Mitch heckled with the others, cheers then hosting the girl into his arms. "I got somewhere to be, mates…And it ain't out chasing bounties." He placed his lips to hers than walked out the bar, the bounty hunters cheering and chasing after him.
Krix glared at the woman, "we'll I haven't come empty handed."
"Seems to me you have," The woman said, her voice loud as thunder. "And to think...I thought you could handle Carlyle Schmidt—"
"I have everything you need in here," he prodded a finger in his head, "for the right price, that is...two tickets to the Iron Alchemist tournament." He smirked.
Wildie stomped over, her heels nearly breaking under her weight. She loomed over the man, large as Brugar. A woman that big must have some relations to Huskman, he thought.
"No bit of information is worth that price…"
Krix shrugged, "then I'll take it to the Mayor...I'm sure he'd be willing to part ways with two tickets for information on who's scamming the city out of Corodite."
Wildie grabbed her stomach and laughed while Ron join in.
"The Mayor?" She shook her head. "You'd be dead as soon as the information left your lips...that's no bounty your holding in your head — but a quick drop and sudden stop." She laughed. "What I'm offering is a bounty and you're life…"
Krix turned on his boot, "come on Brugar...we're done here." He took a step towards the door.
"Wait…" Ron said from the table. He glanced at his wife, "he'd be a dead man…and we'd make nothing...I say we offer the spade."
"The spade?" Krix asked, reeling back around, his head warm with curiosity.
Wilde took a deep breath, "the one we haven't posted just yet… One worth the bounty worth."
Krix pointed to the doors, "we're leaving Brugar...we don't have time to be chasing another bounty."
Ron groaned, "even if it's worth two tickets?"
The mans ears perked up. "You're certain?"
"Two tickets for one boy…"
"a boy?"
"Not just any boy," Wildie walked over to the bar holding out two fingers, "the Sheriffs brother."
"The Sheriffs brother?" Krix shook his head. "The Mayor will have us hung for certain—"
"Who do you think is giving the tickets away? The Mayor wants his hands clean." Two drinks clanked on the counter and she picked them up, walking towards Krix. "A job done dirty…"
"We don't butcher kids," Brugar said.
Krix waved a hand and the large man mouth fell shut. "We don't butcher kids…"
"He's no kid," she raised her right hand, gesturing. "He's a deputy killer." She placed the drink in his hand. "Do we have a deal?"
He hesitated then slowly nodded, raising the drink to his lips.
"One last thing…"
"What's that?"
"I'm giving you a days head start...After that every bounty hunter from here to Lone Creek will be on his scent."
Krix laughed, "dirty bitch…" He rose the glass and they drank.
"Good," The woman gasped, the liquor burning while going down. "Now tell me what you know."
After a conversation that took longer than he liked, and a few drinks that were as strong as he liked them, he went outside into the warm night air. The sky had darkened and the stars were bright as fireflies at midnight.
He leaned against a posts and lit a cigar, puffing to the somber silence.
A boy… He whispered, a sickening burn in his chest. I've become as bad as you…
He drew his hand into his vest pocket and slipped out a rolled piece of parchment. He unrolled it, and skimmed the read as he had done every night:
Krix Grimm'gar,
My not so young apprentice…
Remember what I have done.
Never forget. Never forgive.
Only remember…
For we shall meet soon, old friend,
at the Iron Alchemist Tournament.
There we will finish this;
where one of us will fall…
and the other will fly
Krix rtucked the note back into his vest then removed the knife from his hip. With his free hand, he rolled his sleeve, exposing mangled flesh; marked with scars of his pain. He brought the blade to his arm and opened flesh allowing blood to slither to his wrist; he groaned, biting down, splitting the cigar. He spat.
"Another month has gone by...and finally the end is here."