Page 42 of Tusks & Saddles
The cleric was exactly where she had left him, pressed against one of the porch beams, her suitcase held tightly in his arms. As his head lifted to meet her gaze, Beatrix flicked a gold at him. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t catch it. Not the most dexterous thing, that was for sure. His eye trailed the coin as it spun to a rest near his boot.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“Mostly for carrying my suitcase. Maybe a little bit for helping me with that bandit. Least I could do.”
“Oh, um, thankyou—”
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way—” Beatrix snatched her suitcase from him. “I’ll be taking this and going on my way. Do yourself a favor, kid, stick to the safety of your temples. Irongarde’s not safe for soft folk like you.”
Beatrix descended the steps, the end of her skirt dragging through the dusty, dirt path. The common folk of Irongarde were buzzing around her, set about their daily businesses beneath the high sun. Carriages trotted by wealthy prospectors, while a few of the Dust Wardens wove in and out of the crowds. Pickpockets quickly made their rounds and bar maids, seamstresses, and ranchers were rushing to their destinations. Beatrix’s keen eyes were acutely aware of the masses. That included the cleric she had dismissed. The young man wasn’t exactly subtle and Beatrix did have the aid of her veil to hide her glances.
Bad intentions, good intentions, it didn’t matter. He clearly hadn’t taken her words to heart which was an error Beatrix needed to correct quickly. She ducked betweenIrongarde GeneralandTumbleweed Reads,walking down the narrower path until she cleared half the alleyway. The crunch of newer boots pressing onto gravel made Beatrix pause.
“What did I tell you about sticking to the temples, cleric?” she asked.
Beatrix could practically see the entrance toThe Iron Basin.The promise of a hot bath and wildflower soaps and oils were just a few feet away.
“I heard you, miss, I just—”
“—decided to follow a woman you’ve never met before into an alley?” Beatrix scoffed, a derisive laugh at the back of her throat. “Sorry, kid, if you were expecting something other than the gold piece, you’re out of luck.”
“Ah, I didn’t mean—”
Beatrix refrained from rolling her eyes as she turned to face him. She felt ridiculous for holding the gesture back. It wasn’t like he could even see her eyes, anyway, and Beatrix was accustomed to upsetting people. Sooner or later, it was as guaranteed as the sun rising and falling every day.
“Did or didn’t, it’s a bit weird to follow a woman down an alley. It’s better you break that habit now, holy man,” Beatrix admonished. “Otherwise you could end up in all kinds oftrouble.”
Quicker than he could react, Beatrix had pulledBad Companyfrom the holster on her belt and aimed it at him. For a moment, the man appeared completely off guard by it. Yellow eyes widened as he stared at the barrel of her firearm with uncertainty.
However, even more curiously, the cleric’s face turned that dark shade of green again, obscuring the lighter part of his complexion. He reached up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand. Yet, a resolve appeared to have taken over him as Beatrix noticed the subtle shift in his stance.
“We took down a group of bandits on a train, displayed a great deal of violence, and the first words we exchanged were over an unconscious man that wanted to rob and potentially hurt us!” the cleric exclaimed, palms pressing against the sides of his thighs. “That sort of experience—as upsetting as it is—is what my father would call a bonding. We’ve shared a traumatic life event, which means we should get to know each other!”
“You want…to get to know me?”
What in Ordia was this little guy thinking? Who thought the threat of death was a stepping stone for friendship? And more importantly, why was Beatrix intrigued by this bumbling man?
Is it because of that hole in his hand? Maybe it’s connected to his brain? Would make sense since he’s hellbent on following me.
Beatrix stared. The man—clearly uncomfortable with her gaze, despite not being able to see her eyes—twitched, boot scuffing the ground. A pebble scattered across the dirt and settled next to the wall ofIrongarde General.
“I…” The cleric cleared his throat. “My name is Welborn Larokson…um, son of Larok, son of Lar—ah, cleric of the All Seer and newly appointed member of the All Seer Sanctum of Irongarde…ah, I’m twenty-five and I’m from the Chroma Coast!”
Welborn.
The name rolled in her mind with ease and the burden of wanting to utter it was heavy on Beatrix’s tongue. What a foolish thought that was… yet, the old lessons were still dictating how Beatrix was expected to respond.
“Beatrix…Beatrix Eaves,” she said, re-holsteringBad Company.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Eaves,” Welborn said with the faintest of smiles.
“Likewise,” Beatrix hummed.
A beat of silence went by, with a stray tumbleweed flying down the road behind Welborn.
“And that’s the end of that,” Beatrix said. “Do yourself a favor, Mister Larokson, and follow the main road to the temples. Nothing but trouble will come knocking on your door if youcontinue to follow me. Whether that’s from me or something else, well, that’s a gamble I’m not sure you’re ready for.”
“Miss Eaves, are you saying you would…hurt me if I were to insist on getting acquainted with you?” Welborn asked, a look of apprehension crossing his handsome features.
