Itadaki no Hecate Second

For the Sake of Those Apart

"Are you sure we can trust this person, Friagne?"

"Certainly," the Hunter answered amicably. "Coyote of the Jewel Gang has been a trustworthy friend of mine for a long time, and he has his ways of getting reliable information."

"He's a—what did you call them again? A Crimson Denizen too, right?" The human boy lowered his head slightly. "I still can't believe something as crazy as all of this has been happening right under our noses." When he had regained his senses a while back, his new friend had provided enough evidence in the form of what appeared to be a sentient stagecoach drawn by four ceramic horses. As if the talking doll capable of affection wasn't proof enough.

"He's a Crimson Lord like me, actually," Friagne corrected, and raised an eyebrow at his ally. "Thinking of backing down now?"

"No," Billy replied calmly. "I'm still going to have my revenge, no matter what it takes. And if these Flame Hazes are the cause of all this suffering for this dumb Civil War of theirs, then I'd be happy to help kill as many of them as I can."

The Hunter smiled. "That's what I like to hear." He took care not to make any mention of the irony in that Flame Hazes themselves were instruments of vengeance. Hate begets more hate indeed, and that fact of life was at now at its breaking point.

Walking through the settlement side-by-side, as though equals, the two eventually made their way to a large tent, pitched at the foot of a steep cliff. Without even announcing their presence, they walked right in. A handsome man with a tall yet thin build met them within, dressed in a dusty hooded overcoat. Wrapping around his wrists were a pair of what appeared to be key rings.

"Ah, Friagne, you made it," Coyote greeted his friend gladly. A filled shot glass was already on the table for himself; and he took out a couple more for his new arrival. Popping open his bottle of whisky, he began to fill them.

Billy held out his hand. "No thank you sir, I need my head clear," he said respectfully, but with a sharp stare.

Coyote and Friagne let out a soft chuckle. "He's a stiff kid, isn't he?" the former said to the latter.

Friagne waved his hand. "He's been through a lot."

"I can imagine," said the leader of the Jewel Gang. "He's got a look to him not unlike that of a tool of hunting. Ironic that we'd have someone like that on our side; if I wasn't so set on the adventure called life, I might actually want to be his contractor."

Friagne smirked at that. "As interesting as that would be, I'd rather you not."

"Suppose not," Coyote said with a shrug. As Friagne downed his own shot glass, the other Crimson Lord took out a map of the surrounding lands and set it on the wooden table between them. "Down to business then? You need information, right?"

Friagne gestured towards the whisky bottle and earned a nod of affirmation in return. Since Marianne remained cradled in one arm, he had to set down his glass on the table before filling it up and picking it up again with one hand. He explained briefly before drinking again.

"My young friend here just had his home village razed to the ground by some Natives, apparently led by a Flame Haze. Is there anything you know about that?"

Coyote tapped his chin for a moment and answered. "This Flame Haze Civil War has been going on all over the country, and it hasn't been pretty. My own informants have been telling me they've sighted a large force of Natives within the area, formed out of many tribes. They call themselves the Paducah, and are obviously on the side of the Four Gods of the Earth. Their leader is the Splitter of Ice Fog, Norman Purcell, contracted to the Frigid Surge Thrym."