The Black Adder Boys Chapter 1: But First, We'll Need a Team
The sun wasn't taking any prisoners today. Central Thanalan was at the mercy of a broiling heat wave, without a single spec of cloud in the bright blue sky. It was hot, even for a desert, and it would stay this way until sunset– and perhaps a few bells after that. Only the desperate or deranged would be out and about, especially those without access to a lot of water. Only the desperate. Only the deranged.
Out in the middle of this hellish heat was a team of builders at the end of a long railroad track. Four men took turns laying down the wooden beams across the ground, another four slid the black iron tracks into place. Two came in with nails of fire-treated steel, and one man weilding the sledgehammer came lumbering in to strike them in place.
He was merely a Hyur, but almost as large as a Roegadyn, and built like a siege engine. His face was flushed red from the scorching heat– almost as red as his messy hair– and he was drenched in sweat, bit he was still holding his own better than anyone else. His thick and hairy arms flexed when he raised the hammer high over his head. And every time he brought it down with a thunderous fury, his coworkers flinched and looked away, certain this time he would miss and turn the bones in their hands to dust.
"Break time!" Yelled the foreman, much to the relief of the others. The big Hyur dropped the hammer right at the end of the track and headed to the barrels of water nearby. He took off his shirt to wipe at his brow, choosing to drape it over his broad shoulders lest he tempt the seething sun overhead to cook his skin like a pot roast. He had just sat down and filled a flagon when a chocobo carriage came grinding to a halt in the middle of the road.
Aurant stepped off the back, flipping a coin to the driver before they started on their way again. The slender Elezen walked right up to the redhead, who only gave him a passing glance while he chugged his drink down. "You must be Agnar Bearclaw. Legendary pit fighter with twenty-nine victories and only one defeat. To the Bull of Ala Mhigo."
He let out a snort before nodding. "Didn't think anyone remembered Agnar from old days.” His voice was deep and his accent was thick. “Come on--where do you want autograph?"
Aurant gave him a shocked and confused look. “Oh… I’m not a fan of that bloodsport. Too barbaric for my taste.” Agnar rose his refilled flagon to his lips but paused to give the Elezen a dirty look.
“Then why bother Agnar?” He asked, indignant.
“My colleague and I are bounty hunters and we’re in need of your assistance.” Answered Aurant, trying his best to remain as vague as possible to rope in his interest. Instead of a quizzical look and an inquiry, Agnar tossed his head back and let loose a loud belly laugh that seemed to last an uncomfortably long time.
“Who dares put bounty on Agnar?” He finally asked, now that he caught his breath. He didn’t seem too frightened at the prospect, but given how large and famous he is, only a truly desperate man would try it; but that wasn’t the point anyway.
Clearly the aloofness he was used to from his former captain wasn’t so easily replicated. Instead he dropped the act and just acted himself. “Ahh… there seems to be some sort of confusion. Nobody’s put a bounty on your head, good sir! We are looking to hire you to help us with a bounty!”
Agnar didn’t seem too interested. He gave him a weak shrug and then grunted, “Already have job. Railroad tracking is good pay.” He looked up at Aurant with a side glance. “How much you pay?”
“We’re going to be splitting a bounty of one million four wa-"
Glistening water was sprayed everywhere! Before Aurant had a chance to dry himself off, Agnar was upon him! “ONE MILLION?! ONE MILLION GIL?!”
“Split! Split between four people!” The Elezen quickly spat– clarifying so he wouldn't be tackled by the excited man.
The big man looked down at his fingers and began counting. “One fourth of one million… that is… aha! Hundred thousand!”
“No, what?! That’s… I mean… yes.” Aurant blinked, keeping his distance from Agnar. “Yes, that's perfectly accurate. I take it you will join us?”
He turned to shout at the Lalafellin foreman. “AGNAR QUITS!” The poor soul wasn’t even halfway through his sandwich when he dropped it into the dust in shock.
“N-no! Agnar can’t- you can’t quit!” He sputtered, stopping himself from speaking in the third person like his former employee. “Who will swing the sledgehammer?!”
“That is little man’s problem!” He bellowed, storming off to the city of Ul’dah with a bounce in his step. The Lalafell was pale as a ghost, turning to look at the rest of his workers; he had no Hrothgar or Roegadyn in his group, and none of the other Hyur were nearly large enough to swing the hammer by themselves. He went from being days ahead of schedule to the delight of his employers to a predicament without a foreseeable solution. He tripped over his own chair and went crashing into dirt, panicking as his money maker sauntered off.
"I'm terribly sorry for all this." Aurant gave him a sympathetic smile and wave once he started walking backwards. "Good luck in your endeavors!" He could still hear the fearful shouting of the foreman while he broke off into a trot to catch up with the first addition to their merry band of bounty hunters; he personally didn't think a loud and brutish Hyur would be very useful in what would certainly be a stealthy operation, but Aurant never questioned his captain and he definitely wouldn't start doing it now. "Right then! We'll spend the night in the Quicksand and wait for our colleagues to-"
"No." Agnar grunted, suddenly taking a sharp turn off the path. "We visit camp. Agnar tell wife of big job!"
"Your WIFE?!" He thought to himself, almost blurting it out. The Elezen was in complete disbelief as they headed to the Ala Mhigan refugee camps set up near the gates of Ul’dah. "This big burly ogre has a wife…?! She must be as frumpy as him and twice as uncouth! No modest woman would tie her chocobo to a man who smells like-!"
"Amalie! Sweet Summer Rain, where are you?!" Agnar called out once they were only a few paces within the perimeter; the other refugees seemingly ignored his bellowing voice– no doubt they were used to it by now. But in the distance someone was weaving under drying laundry hung up on ropes, around iron barrels used to keep them warm during the bitterly cold Thanalan nights, and through the crowd of dusty and dirty refugees.
She was absolutely gorgeous. Aurant's eyes widened at the Ala Mhigan beauty in approach– the complete opposite of the hulking boar she apparently married. Captivated by her giant golden eyes, the Elezen remained speechless as she leapt into Agnar's embrace for a big hug and a barrage of kisses.
"Welcome home!" Amalie swooned, smiling tenderly. "But you are early… why? Little man give big lunch break?" Somehow she had the same accent as her husband, and yet it wasn't claws on a chalkboard when she spoke.
"No, Agnar quit job. This man pay better than railroad!" He gestured to Aurant but she didn't even look in his direction; her golden eyes flared up with rage and her face immediately turned red!
"You quit job?!" She repeated, stomping a foot on the ground in anger. "We need gil! For house! For FOOD! Go back and get job back now!" She was almost as loud as Agnar, truth be told, but even in her fury she was far easier on the ears to listen to.
"Buttercup! Agnar have job!" He anxiously gestured to Aurant again. "This man is bounty hunter in need of strength!"
Finally she turned to look at the Elezen, before she slowly started circling him like he was being sold at an auction. In response Aurant did his best to remain still to get this inspection over as quickly as possible. "This is… bounty hunter?" She asked, lifting his arm by the elbow. "But how? Look at noodle arms. Too weak for hunting."
"That is why he hire Agnar." Her husband agreed, nodding. "It is big job… with big pay!"
"How big?" Amalie asked, narrowing her eyes as she sniffed at him, clearly trying to detect deception.
Aurant had to say something before he was driven mad by how uncomfortably close she was getting to his face. "Payout is one million… split between four peo-"
"ONE MILLION GIL?!" She shouted, before quickly covering her mouth. The other refugees glanced over at the mention of wealth– the only conversations that mattered around here involved money. Amalie repeated it again, this time in a hushed whisper. "... one million gil…?!"
The Elezen cleared his throat as he looked around, trying to avoid suspicion. “Split… split… between four people.” In order to stop her from trying to do math like Agnar, he continued with, “But this isn’t just a grab a man and haul him to the authorities. This is a dead man walking with a history of violence and a gang of lowlives under his command. This could end tomorrow… or it could be a moon from now. The hardest part is finding their hideout, so it could be a while before you see your husband again.”
“We could afford apartment…” Amalie thought out loud, completely ignoring Aurant prattle on about the danger. “Live under roof… just like in homeland.”
“And eat real meat… not rat pelts and river water!” Agnar grinned, adding to her list of desires. His wife’s doey eyes flickered with delight as they giggled to each other.
She then turned back to Aurant. “What is name?”
“ACK! Agnar forget to ask!” Thought her husband, smacking his palm against his own face.
“I am Aurant Kulat, citizen of Ishgard and former soldier of the Order of the Twin Adders of Gridania.” He declared, matter-of-factly.
“Amalie Bearclaw. Wife of Agnar Bearclaw.” She responded, extending a hand. “It is good you find husband work with big pay.”
Aurant gave her a warm smile as he gently shook her hand. “Not a problem, ma’am. I’m sure my colleague will love the good new-aaaagh!” Her grip on his hand tightened, and it felt like she fully intended to break something! She was shorter than Aurant by two heads, but her small size belied her brutal strength; he gripped at her wrist with his free hand as he dropped to a knee, making noises only an Elezen in pain could make!
“You bring husband back. Alive. In one piece. You will do this, yes?” She sneered, staring down at him with malicious intent.
“Y-yes! Of course! You have my word he will be safe…!” Aurant gasped out in relief once she let go of him. He cradled his throbbing hand while he slowly rose back to his full height– brutish and uncouth, just as he feared. He looked up expecting her to still be glaring at him, but instead she was tongue-tied with her husband in a heated embrace. They were going at it like lustful animals– Aurant fully expected them to undress and pound away at each other right here in the open air!
“Stay safe.” She whispered, pressing her forehead against Agnar’s as they hugged each other. “Come back to me.”
“Now and always, Light of Life.” He smiled, running his thumb across her pillowy lips. He was reluctant to let go of her, but she was more eager to get out of this rinky-dink camp and lay on a real bed. So she pushed him away after one last smooch. No, two last smooches. Agnar adjusted his pants and turned to look at Aurant. “Agnar will need weapon.”
“Yes, yes, that will be arranged.” The Elezen waved his good hand as he started toward Ul’dah again. “Can’t keep my promise if you bring your fists to a gunfight. We’ll stop by the market to get you some clothes and a bath… by the Twelve you need a bath…!” Agnar lifted up his arm to sniff at his pit, reeling away and coughing before nodding in approval. “And then we shall wait for my colleague at the Quicksand.” Aurant rubbed at his hand and let out an exhausted sigh. “Hopefully he’s having a better time than I am…”
K’thalen was eight hundred malms to the west across the Rhotano Sea, in the heart of La Noscea, and deep in the underbelly of the capital city Limsa Lominsa. He was led underground into the dungeons by four guards and the jailer's assistant– after he was stripped of all weapons first, of course; they wouldn't risk giving these prisoners access to blades or firearms. After his thorough cavity search, he was brought down into death row, where every prisoner in this wing was sentenced to die. The prisoners rattled against the bars and cursed obscenities at them while they walked past, and every now and then a guard would pull out his baton and smack an overreaching hand to remind them of their place. But it wasn't until they reached the end of this long and curved hallway did they find the woman K’thalen was looking for.
"You have five minutes." Warned the jailer's assistant. "Call for us if you want to leave early." He and the guards stepped away to give them room, meanwhile the prisoner barely seemed to even notice their presence; she was covered in bruises and clapped in irons, keeping those dangerous fists of hers together at the wrist. But she was both a Roegadyn and a pugilist– it would take more than that to keep her bound.
"Mellow Rose." K’thalen called out, keeping a healthy distance from the bars. "Yer set to hang real soon. Fer banditry n'piracy."
Her red eyes simmered in torchlight when she glowered up at him. "What does that have to do with a little shite like you?"
K’thalen gave her a nonchalant shrug. "I come to ya with n'offer. Some reprieve. A stay o'execution, if'n yer interested. Wanna hear what I gotta say or should I start walkin'?" Mellow didn't move an ilm; she just stared at the Miqo'te with a glare potent enough to frighten a Lalafellin child into an early grave. But K’thalen was used to the glowering scowls of bandits– he's seen that look for most of his life. "The Maelstrom wants ya dead. Can't rightly blame 'em. Yer a dangerous woman. But as it happens, I'm n'the market fer dangerous women. Agree to help me with a job n'I can get ye outta this cell. I can pay yer bond as well… plus a lil'extra to help get ye a fresh start."
Her grimace only soured. "What trick are you trying to play? No one awaiting execution gets a bond."
"Aye," He confirmed, crossing his arms. "normally ye'd be right. But I had a chat with the jailer. He's willin' to let ye off with a slap on the wrist… as long as ye behave."
If she had known that fool was eager to be bribed she would have offered her body to him as soon as she was thrown in here. This Miqo'te had her curiosity, but now he had her full attention. "How much did you pay him?"
K’thalen reached into his coat and retrieved his pack of smokes; he was looking down but he still noticed her eyeing his cigarettes. "'Nough to gettem interested n'a deal. Question is… are ye interested n'a chance to clear yer name?"
When she rose to her feet, she towered over her would-be savior. A quick flex if her arms and the shackles popped apart like they were made of paper. Silently she pressed herself against the bars to get a better look at him; it wasn't until she was looming over him did he realize she was staring at him like wounded prey.
Mellow Rose was a dangerous woman. Those scarred knuckles of hers have seen the inside of more skulls than most could believe. They say she trained by pounding her fists against stone until they were hardened enough to shatter bones, and that she could behead a Hrothgar with a single uppercut. But K’thalen wasn’t interested in tall tales– he was interested in facts. And here's a fact; she was raised by bandits just like he was. She of all people could understand his childhood. Even if she never cared to know. Still he had to be careful not to let her-
"And what's stopping me from twisting your head off once we're far enough from Limsa?" She finally spoke in a low and sullen tone.
K’thalen didn't answer– not at first. He tapped his pack and loosened a cigarette. Mellow followed the cigarette as he lifted it to his mouth and ignited it with some flint and steel. "Well…" He started, pausing to make a big show of filling his lungs with his burning medicine. “Nothin’, I reckon. Nothin’ but them lonely n’cold nights… that long fight to balance between a fire warm ‘nough to keep ye from freezin' but dim ‘nough not to attract others. Nothin’ but wanderin’ fer the rest a yer life. That fear, stalkin’ ye in the dark. Everytime ye close em red eyes a’yers ye take a gamble to see if’n it’ll be the last they'd open. Always lookin’ over yer shoulder. Fearin’ every sound, every flicker just outta sight, and every unfamiliar face. Reckon ye'd live that way fer the rest a'yer life. I know that life… 'cause I lived it too. S'far as I'm concerned that ain't no way a livin' at all. That's… just survival. So answer me this, Mellow Rose, do ya wanna live or do ya wanna survive?" He pulled the cigarette from his lips, turned it in his hands, and offered the rest up to her. Mellow stared at him like she's been doing, eventually glancing down at the peace offering and slowly reaching through the bars to take it.
She closed her eyes as she took the first hit in moons. The bittersweet smoke filling her lungs felt like a single drop of water touching her soul, the soothing heat in her throat was a welcomed bliss– a drink after wandering the desert for weeks. Then she exhaled, savoring the poison once again.
“What would you have me do… mister?”
