Chapter 7: Bounty of Work
The afternoon sun dipped low in dusky sky and fierce rays of
sunlight pierced the glass windows of Mykolas' office. He sat at his desk,
evidently undone by the paperwork on his desk. For the whole day he had done
nothing but attempt to muster concern for the issues and affairs of the city's
peoples. But after the fifth or eighth case out of dozens, Mykolas could only
care more about ruffians stealing sweetrolls or beasts bothering, what Mykolas
viewed to be, peasants, with a lack of caution. It was frustrating to have to
organise time and resources to resolve the issues, after all of which Mykolas
resigned to sitting back and patting his belly, just feeling the sluggishness
already that was too familiar to the administrative side of his work. He needed
to escape and do something.
"Sir, someone's here
to collect a bounty." A guard noted at the slightly open door to the
office. Mykolas rolled his eyes for only a moment, but then pushed the
paperwork a little to the side as he realised this might be the only highlight
to his day.
"Send them in." Mykolas
beckoned. The door opened, and Akalgan stepped into the office. He promptly
held up the doom viper's dried and severed head up towards Mykolas. The sight
was just as surprising as it was impressive, which was to say very impressive
to Mykolas.
"So there was a
bounty for this thing to be killed?" Akalgan inquired for certainty.
Mykolas looked up at the face behind the viper's own and
took in Akalgan's draconic features. He especially wanted to keep the face in
mind, along with a name.
"Yes, there was." Mykolas
replied simply. He pulled out a parchment from his desk and readied a quill. "So then-- for three hundred gold pieces,
your name please?" Mykolas asked.
"Akalgan." The
Dragonian replied. Mykolas turned the name over in his mind.
"And you would spell
that as...?" Mykolas asked.
"A-k-a-l-g-a-n."
Akalgan answered, the head of his slain mark tucked under his arm.
Mykolas put the name down to parchment under address for a
promissory note.
"Ah. A Dragonian,
huh?" Mykolas murmured to spark conversation as he wrote. "Not too far from home, but farther than a
Dragonian would be." He noted. Akalgan smirked.
"You aren't wrong." He
agreed. Mykolas glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.
"And what would a
Dragonian be doing in Blackhold, if you don't mind me asking?" He inquired
curiously as he continued his drafting.
Akalgan smirked.
"Am I too much for
the city?" He retorted in jest. Mykolas shrugged.
"Humour me, a humble
and sole Ursaren captain in a city full of 'grayskins'." He elaborated with
a hint of empathy and without looking up. Akalgan looked over the Ursaren for a
moment, and noticed how out of place the sight did seem for a moment.
"I am travelling the
world to see things that only gods have seen." He answered honestly. He
glanced at the severed head of the doom viper tucked under his arm. "This is just another one of my conquests
over almost seven decades of wandering the land." He remarked thoughtfully.
Mykolas was intrigued
more than ever.
"And was that vile
creature a challenge or a wonder to you?" He asked pertinently. Akalgan
chuckled and looked back at the captain.
"Both." He
answered simply. Mykolas paused in writing and looked at him incredulously, and
Akalgan shrugged. "It was a wonder to
find one of these fiends slithering around in the sewers of an established
city." He elaborated as he cast his gaze over to the windows overlooking
the parade grounds. "The challenge was--
of course, killing it in close quarter circumstances, and in a place where it
could drown me." He then explained, and as he did he tapped the doom
viper's skull indicatively.
It was perhaps Mykolas' longing to be free and able to
engage in more practical rather than administrative duties all the time that
kept him so engaged with Akalgan. However, there was only so much time it would
take for him to finish drafting the promissory note. He laughed to himself and
went on with the note.
"Perhaps you might
enlighten me on how exactly this challenge went over a few mugs of ale, and
mayhaps your other exploits." Mykolas invitingly hinted. The suggestion was
not unwelcome by Akalgan, who thought it over in his head. He then smiled.
"And perhaps you
might entail your own in exchange." He suggested in response. Mykolas
laughed a little louder than before at the tiny impasse.
"I have little to
speak of myself, I'm afraid." He clarified as he finished the letter and
heated the wax rod to drip on the bottom of the note. As Mykolas used the stamp
of his office to seal the wax, Akalgan shrugged.
"It's a good thing
you're buying the drinks then." He retorted. Mykolas ceased laughing, if
only to give Akalgan a slight glare that was betrayed just by a half grin
pulling at the corner of his mouth. He then rolled his eyes and readied his
quill once more.
"Then those
exploits--" Mykolas began as he signed the note at last. "--best be worthy of being sung in the halls
of kings." He said, as a challenge to Akalgan. The proud Dragonian smiled
and put the head of the viper down on the desk.
"Sung in the hall of
gods, they will be." He replied confidently. Mykolas handed Akalgan his promissory
note of 300 gold pieces with a smirk, and then looked at the viper's skull he
was leaving behind. "You can keep the
skull as momento-- something to remember me by when I leave." Akalgan added
as he turned away. He then paused. "Where
would be the best place for one wandering and itinerant Dragonian to earn his
drinks with tales of his exploits?" Akalgan asked. Mykolas looked up from
the skull up at his new person of interest, and smiled.
"The Nighting Mare is
an excellent place to be in an hour, coincidentally a little after I finish up
here." He responded. Akalgan nodded his head with a silent 'ah'.
"Coincidentally and
conveniently the place I have residence at." He remarked. Akalgan then
waved as he left. "We will speak again
soon." He said in brief farewell. Mykolas nodded, and once Akalgan had
left, he sat back with a groaning stretch.
The dusky light had dimmed and night was beginning to fall
when Akalgan left the barracks. People were still wandering about on their way
to places, perhaps either taverns or homes for dinner, but Akalgan expected
most of them to be off the streets relatively soon. He then looked at the
promissory note in his hand and read what had been written.
To Akalgan,
The sum of 300 gold pieces for services rendered in the capture and
killing of the Doom Viper within Blackhold's sewers. The benefactor may choose
to exchange this note for the full payment, or part payment and the rest as
promissory notes.
Signed,
Captain of the Guard Mykolas
Akalgan scoffed over the formality of the writing in
juxtaposition to the one who wrote it.
"You really do not
belong behind a desk, my friend." Akalgan thought aloud. He rolled up the
note carefully and started making his way back to the inn, and on his way he
watched every person he passed warily. He has known people before who were
robbed of their payment, and given his earlier encounter; Akalgan was not
taking any chances. Although, Akalgan was not in opposition to another Dark Elf
concubine, as far as he was concerned. On various encounters with Dark Elves,
Akalgan did find the younger Dark Elves to be 'aesthetically pleasing', even
the boys. And he definitely had nothing against making concubines out of
thieves if it meant he would get what he might pay for at brothels for free,
and especially for as long as he pleased. He smiled at the thought.