Page 41 of Tusks & Saddles
Welborn stared, eyes wide as he realized Boone had called out to him. A quick glance to the side revealed that the woman was not waiting for him. Helplessly, Welborn shot his brother an awkward if not apologetic smile. The moment Boone looked away towardhis companion, Welborn’s foot had already inched in the mysterious woman’s direction. Welborn kept his eye on his brother, until anxiety urged him to run.
Sorry, Boone! The All Seer wants me to follow this woman!
Chapter Four
Beatrix
It wasn’t wise to underestimate an opponent.
Beatrix wasn’t sure what to make of the six foot orc man that was trailing behind her to the sheriff’s office. But she could give him credit where credit was due. He had handled the bandit well, all things considered. Most folk were unprepared to act when faced with danger. In fact a lot of them had a tendency to tense up. Yet, the man in Beatrix’s peripheral vision had seen a threat and had taken initiative. That spoke of promise.
I can work with a self starter, but he’s far too young.
Age was really just a number given there were elves, furliaths, and more who had ancestry that surpassed centuries. Goblins reached maturity by six or seven, but dwarves weren’t considered mature until age fifty. Beatrix was fairly certain that orcs had similar lifespans as halflings or humans, but social graces dictated that it would be rude to ask how old he was. At least not until formal introductions were made and they had shared a drink or a meal together.
Old enough to travel alone, old enough to be a holy person, but definitely not experienced enough to be following me without knowing my reputation. Following me is already working against his favor.
Beatrix paused on the porch of the sheriff station, sparing the cleric a glance.
“Stay out here. I’ll be back in a moment.”
He nodded and it reaffirmed her suspicions about the man. Agreeable could be dangerous in a city like Irongarde. For every lawbreaker Beatrix brought in, there would be another one to take their place before she could finish collecting her coin. The boon of iron the city produced had created a wealth of opportunities, which meant that there were many newcomers prepared to take advantage of working people. It would only take the wrong sob story to get someone as gentle as him into a lot of trouble.
Beatrix hated how much her thoughts reminded her of her father and that ire was quickly directed to the cleric outside.
“Ms. Eaves!”
A human man with weathered, tan skin, a bushy brown mustache, and a tired expression greeted her. He was dressed in typical Dust Warden attire. Wide brimmed hat, tall boots with spurs, and matching cotton shirt and trousers. The familiar long, gray vest was an indicator of his position with local law, along with the shiny metal signet at his waist.
What was his name again? Grisel? Gwurdon? Gu—
“Don’t tell me it’s another one,” the Dust Warden huffed, eyeing the woozy man in Beatrix’s guard.
“Better. Send some of the boys to the train station, you can pick up the other two. The working ladies on the train are probably trussing them up as we speak.”
The man—Gus, that’s what it was—looked pained, eyes shutting for a moment. Beatrix didn’t know why Gus didn’t just retire if he hated his job so much. Given how much gold they handed her for completing the odd jobs the Dust Warden’s couldn't keep up with, one would think they were paid fairly enough.
“Ms. Eaves, under what circumstances are you bringing a barely coherent man to the Dust Wardens today?” he asked. “Our cells don’t have room for public disturbances related to drunks.”
“Drunks? Dust Warden, isn’t it obvious?” Beatrix dropped a hand onto her hip. “It was attempted robbery of those in the luxury cabin. You know, the type of crime that King Oryin’vel Vyrthsalis absolutelyabhors.”
Not a lie, as the king had suffered several personal robberies from trusted allies. One of which had resulted in not only stolen heirlooms, but the kidnapping and subsequent ransom of his beloved sister. It had soured King Oryin’vel’s heart and made him more severe when it came to theft under his reign.
Beatrix had never been above manipulation. It was a skill she had perfected by age nine and how she had managed to infiltrate her father’s private study quarters. The important thing about manipulation was to only utilize it as needed or risk the manipulated catching on. In the moment, Beatrix was less concerned with coming across as misleading and more about collecting her coin so she could invest in the local bathhouse.
Rather predictably, he folded immediately.
“Derek,” Gus rubbed his face tiredly. “Derek, please escort this man to a holding cell. I have coin to distribute to Ms. Eaves.”
“Thank you, Dust Warden, I appreciate your cooperation.” Beatrix said.
The exchange lasted all but fifteen minutes. The captured man was ushered away by a young air helfen, Gus left to retrieve her earnings. Barely any words were exchanged other than what was necessary, and by the time it was over, Beatrix was five gold richer. As she stood up to leave, Beatrix paused near the wooden door, eyeing the exhausted man. Gus had taken off his hat, running his hand through his hair.
“I’d suggest keeping more Dust Warden’s at the train station,” she said. “Irongarde is growing everyday, and I can’t remember the last time I rode it without some kind of trouble coming to fruition.”
“Are you—”
“Just a suggestion,” Beatrix said, before pushing her way out of the sheriff’s station.
