A warm spring breeze greeted Aiden as he stepped out of the Academy. The Column provided more than just a steady day and night cycle, giving its occupants all four seasons in equal proportion as well. He preferred autumn but that was half a year away and he'd have to wait for that. What he didn't have to wait for was the opportunity to get drunk.

The coins he'd earned today were burning a hole in his pocket and damn near pleaded with him to be spent. He was all too happy to make that happen. If he were to ask one of the carriage drivers waiting outside the Ascension Academy he could have gotten a ride. Probably could have even gotten away with footing the Academy with the bill as well.

It wouldn't have been a lie to say he was there on Academy orders and the implication that he was owed a ride home would have been enough to carry him right to his doorstep. But these carriages didn't have windows, the Academy elite preferred their privacy. The Corpse Hunter on the other hand didn't enjoy having his senses dulled.

Unless it involved the consumption of alcohol of course. Sure he had more than the standard five senses that most Column Dwellers were born with but the myth that dulling one sense would strengthen the others had never helped him in the past.

He wasn't in the mood to allow himself to be blindfolded to the world around him, same as the heretic he'd watched die not even a full hour ago. He would rather walk, even if it was a two hour stroll from the steps of the Academy to Guard Station Seven where his cart awaited him. Hopefully he wouldn't need to make use of it before getting there. Carrying bodies over long distances always left knots in his lower back.

Plinth, like most Columns, was made up of main streets, side roads, and alleyways. There was only one way in or out of the Column itself, a massive dark blue door to the south. It was similar in construction to the one the Ascension Academy used to guard its sub floors. The material was Mithril, a rare and expensive metal that was occasionally found in the form of weapons and armor in the Dungeons.

This door however came from the Dwarves that lived beneath the lands of Fallendahl, mining away in their underground cities. They only came up to the surface now and then to trade with the surface Dwellers who huddled in their Columns for safety.

The Dwarves had provided the raw materials and Plinth had provided the labor. Aiden didn't know how many craftsmen it took to create such an impregnable gate but he wagered it was more than one. He glanced at the ten foot tall barrier in the distance, though from where he stood it looked like a cat door.

The Corpse Hunter tried to recall if he'd ever met a Dwarf in the flesh when he heard a loud screech above him. He looked up to see something circling overhead just before a vulture landed on his shoulder.

"Hey Vagrant, where have you been off to?" the man in gray asked while giving the bird a light scratch under the chin.

The vulture lifted its beak out of the way to make it easier to receive its owner's attention though it chose not to answer his question. Vagrant tended to wander off whenever Aiden drank, passed out, or the bird got bored. Considering how often those three things happened it was pretty common for his avian companion to wander off.

Aiden never worried about him though, like a true vagrant, his friend always had a way of coming back. Thus his name was well earned. Together the Corpse Hunter and the corpse eater made their way through the city. Back alleys and side streets were the preferred means of travel.

Not only did they offer shortcuts but the things that took place out of view of the public eye were often far more interesting. Not long into their walk they heard something close by. The sound of hissing drew the attention of both man and bird as they looked over to see two cats fighting on a nearby fence.

An old tabby cat was facing off with a younger orange haired feline while a small chunk of fish rested between them. They raised their tail ends, trying to intimidate each other into surrender, but both strays were hungry and willing to draw blood if it meant filling their stomach.

The Corpse Hunter paused, examining the thin silver threads above each cat. The thread above the orange cat's head began to turn red and the man in gray clucked his tongue. Experience always trumped youth and the younger cat was about to learn that fatal lesson.

Before the two cats could come to blows a squeak captured the focus of everyone in the alleyway. A mouse had gotten trapped beneath the very fence that the two cats were about to dual upon. The tabby used this distraction to take the bit of meat and run, no sense fighting if it didn't have to. The red string above the orange cat's head changed back to its original silver color. Glancing down at the mouse the Corpse Hunter noticed the small string above its head was bright red.

Aiden turned and walked away as the orange cat leapt upon the defenseless mouse, never realizing how close it had come to death itself. There was a life lesson to draw from this but he was far too sober to put it into words so he didn't bother trying. The man and his bird continued walking, waiting to see what else might come their way.

They were halfway back to the Station when the sound of another fight garnered their attention once more. This was not meant to be a quiet day it seemed. Looking over to an adjoining alleyway Aiden saw three figures standing together. One was slouched up against a wall with liquid dripping out of a wound above one eye that matched the red brickwork behind them. A dagger made of translucent yellow energy was gripped tightly in each hand, even as the figure’s arms hung limply at their sides.

Stepping closer the Corpse Hunter saw that the wounded figure was a young man in his late teens. There was a man and a woman standing opposite him that looked to be a few years older than their victim.

"I told you what would happen if you didn't pay your debt," the woman warned, brandishing a wooden club with a metal band on the end.

There was a streak of fresh blood on the tip of her weapon leaving few to wonder where the younger man's injuries had come from. The man beside her was flexing as though he were preparing to unleash his Fate should the woman tell him to. His eyes shared the same look the orange cat had when sizing up the mouse it found trapped beneath the fence.

The Corpse Hunter glanced at the threads above the three figures. Two threads were solid silver and one was slowly turning red, just like the face of its owner as blood trickled down past his eye.

"I already paid your boss," the bloody man said defensively. "So go find someone else to bother."

"Oh?! So now I get to have the shit kicked out of me when I go back to him empty handed because I failed to collect a debt. A debt that he had to get from you himself? You think I'm just going to leave you alone now?" the woman seethed.

"You will if you value your life," the younger man said, wiping the blood from his eyes and readying himself for a fight.

The thread above the injured man's head was now bright red, but as he raised the yellow daggers the silver thread above the woman's head turned as red as well. He was young and clearly didn't have a chance to properly train his abilities but even a novice with his Fate was a serious threat.

Ionic Bonders could harness their own body's electrical synapses and wield them as weapons. The same energy that powered his thoughts and actions powered the dimly lit daggers clutched tightly his hands. He was going to die but he'd take the woman down with him.

Heavy footsteps alerted the three individuals in the alley to the presence of an onlooker.

"Piss off, this doesn't concern you!" the woman shouted before she registered who the man in gray was.

"Corpse Hunter," both of the other men in the alleyway said, almost in unison.

"This does concern me," the Corpse Hunter corrected. "This alley is about to have corpses in it that will need my tending."

He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms as if to show he didn't intend to intervene.

"See what happens when you piss off the Copper Catchers," the woman said with a grin, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "You cross us and the Corpse Hunter is left picking up the pieces."

"Do you have candle wax in your ears," the still bloody man shouted back. "He said corpses, plural. That means I get to take one of you to the grave with me. Who wants to bet which of you it'll be."

His eyes began to glow the same color as his daggers as he brought his hands up to his face like a boxer, a blade pointed at each of his opponents.

The man and the woman exchanged uncertain glances. Vagrant shrieked at them loudly from atop his owner's shoulder as if beckoning them to make a hasty decision. They both flinched in response.

"Fuck this, fifty fifty ain't odds I'm betting my life on," the man said, dropping whatever Fate he'd been focusing on and bolting down the alleyway.

"You're a little bitch!" the woman screamed, hot on the man's heels.

It was hard to tell if she was scolding her companion or giving her former debtor one last insult.

With his back pressed against the brick wall the Ionic Bonder reabsorbed his daggers back into his body, let out a deep sigh, and slumped to the ground. He had come so close to death that the Corpse Hunter himself had come out to greet him.

Just the thought of it sent a chill up his spine. He looked back to where the man in gray had been standing but he was already gone, having left without a sound. There weren’t any bodies in this back alley so his presence was no longer needed.

“What a hell of a day,” the injured man said before slowly getting up and walking off.

It was likely the Corpse Hunter would have agreed with the sentiment had he stayed long enough to hear the injured man’s words. But the moment the three tethers in the alleyway turned white he walked off. There wasn’t much point in watching a show that he’d already read the ending to.

With Vagrant still perched on his shoulder Aiden continued walking. He stuck to the side streets and alleys as usual until he finally reached Guard Station Seven where his cart awaited. There had been no fear of having his cart stolen while he was away.

Aside from being parked out in front of a Guard Station it was painted the same shade of gray as the clothing he wore. Everyone who passed by knew who that cart belonged to and the fact that someday they would likely wind up in it. Aiden thought about stopping by the Station and saying something to Landon but decided against it considering what the Protectorate had been through today.

Now that he had his cart he could find a Tavern and get drunk. A rumble in his stomach informed him that he’d need something more than hard liquor to hold him over. He paused trying to remember the last time he’d eaten.

He vaguely remembered eating some bread that morning but the more he thought about it the more he realized that most of it had probably ended up on Landon’s boots instead of his own stomach. The handful of Taverns that he enjoyed drinking in didn’t offer food so they weren’t going to be of much help.

“Let’s grab something to eat and get drunk at home tonight. How does that sound Vagrant?” the man in gray asked his feathered friend. The vulture squawked happily in response. “Then it’s agreed,” Aiden said with a smile.

Vagrant was one of the few beings in the Column that always knew how to put him in a good mood.

There was an abundant number of auction houses, stores, pawn shops, and market stalls that the Column Dwellers of Plinth could peruse. Which made it rather annoying for the old man behind the counter when the Corpse Hunter chose his store out of all of them to do his evening shopping.

“You couldn’t go somewhere else?” the shopkeeper said under his breath when the man in gray walked in through the door.

Not only did the Corpse Hunter scare away the handful of other shoppers but he walked with such an eerie silence that it was like he floated across the ground. Even the squeaky floorboards that the storekeeper hadn’t gotten around to fixing acted as though the man in gray had never even touched them.

The old man brushed a few of his own white hairs off the counter, they seemed to be falling out faster by the day. When Aiden set his groceries down in front of the storekeeper he nearly fell out of his chair. He didn’t understand how a man that big could be so damned quiet but it sure as hell made him uneasy.

“Will that be all?” the storekeeper asked politely, pretending his customer’s presence wasn’t a bother to him.

The Corpse Hunter quietly set a handful of coins down onto the counter before speaking.

“No. I came here on behalf of more than just myself.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” the old man asked, clearly not a fan of riddles.

Rather than answer his question the Corpse Hunter’s gaze drifted upwards to the ceiling. He craned his head to look almost directly above the white haired man that sat before him. The storekeeper looked up but was confused, there wasn’t anything on the ceiling.

He looked back at the man in gray expecting an explanation but the man’s gaze was fixated on the ceiling. He tried to think of what might have captured the Corpse Hunter’s attention. Looking up once more the storekeeper was just as confused as before. There wasn’t anything special about his ceiling.

It was peeling and needed to be fixed but so did the one in his apartment above them. His wife was going to help him but she’d fallen ill awhile back and it made it harder to get things fixed around the shop while he was the only one tending the store. That’s when it hit him.

“No,” the man said softly while shaking his head from side to side, but the Corpse Hunter kept his gaze fixed upon the same place.

“No, no, no,” the storekeeper pleaded, mord loudly. “The doctor said it was just a bad fever. He said she could get better if she got enough rest…”

But the man in gray wouldn’t look away from the ceiling.

“Meredith!” the shopkeeper screamed as he tore open the door behind him and raced up the stairs to his home above.

Aiden didn’t have the ability to see through solid objects, some Fates came with that gift but his did not. What he could do was sense the dead, even through most solid objects. Like the ceiling of a small grocery store owned by an elderly couple for example. His gaze slowly lowered to the doorway that the shopkeeper had left open. He followed after the old man, there was work to be done and it was his duty to see it through.