Fang's Heart 🐉 | Rayaari

Chapter Five: The Mercenary

"She wanted a weapon,
she draw death.
She wanted to fight,
she brought war."

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A figure clad in thick cloth marched across the bustling market. His strides were precise and quick, but wary. Disregarding the searing gazes and hushed chatters behind him, he pivoted to a more narrowed path and disappeared in the shadows.

The obscure dusk of the shuttered trail almost blended with his sullied cloak. The walls had cracks and growing moss, scent heavily roaming of roaches and rodents.

He was, however, unfazed. He came here often for bounties and getting paid. A beggar finds his ways to survive in this malnourished world.

The freight of his boots left footprints on the mulch covered ground. He preferred if it didn't, he knew the bandits tailing after him would find him sooner but he would have to deal with them later.

Finally arriving at his destination, 'Libulan's Tavern' was located in the outskirts of the city, the signage intricately carved above a door of red wood.

The hostelry thrived with untamed gambling and bounty hunters like him. They often go in groups or work individually, but the latter was much better and less straining.

No one could predict that a reclusive spot exist behind the walls of such a refined land.

He entered the pub as the voices became clearer. Some looked his way- intimidated, challenged. He paid no heed to this and meandered towards a familiar head.

"Ah! If it isn't my favored anino." A burly man littered with tattoos exclaimed, slamming his glass of booze on the countertop.

"Hinge." He nodded in response, sitting beside him. He set his blades at his feet, but enough to draw it out when there's threat.

"Fire-splash." He requested and the bartender made his way to his station. Not a second or two, the cool and strong smell of alcohol wafted to his nostrils.

He fished out a golden chain in his pocket and slid it to Hinge before drinking.

"I see you got my message." He quips, taking the metal in his palm before flipping it toward one his men.

"Why else would I be here? Your agitre couldn't stop hunting me down until I took that damn thing from its claws." He grunts and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Hinge guffawed, his chest rumbling. "You are as humourous as ever, my friend. My pet was successful," He pauses.

"Although, I do wonder why my agitre has not come back to me yet."

The man gave a side-way glance. "I had to do it quick. Your pet's claws were a hassle but I manage to shut it up."

Hinge's eyes darkened but let it go.

"I heard you've been encountering Scale more than usual." Hinge opens instead, downing his beverage in one go.

He narrowed his eyes, gaze shrewd.

Scale are known to be the a group of people involving themselves in the hand of black magic. They were rejects of their own lands and resorted to reign themselves to witchcraft. They were believed to have disappeared three years ago but resurfaced three months back.

Yet, rumours were just rumours. He has not encountered a Scale member with powers but that does mean they are less than a threat.

They are lethal and blood-thirsty criminals.