Day 7

Yellow Bud

Yellow Bud sat in a café, savoring a strong blood coffee. The recent batch of blackfin fish’s blood appeared to elevate the palette of the coffee beans even higher. It happened to balance the content of the letters that had arrived yesterday. Butcher was keen to move on, leaving Soto behind, while Bud’s brother, Black Jon, asked for help in convincing their boss to change his mind.

Yellow Bud looked through the window, the streets of Tucan bustled with activity. Over the years, Bud had spent here, he noticed the extent of the Imperial influence. Buildings grew taller, people wore better clothes, and traded commodities normally reserved for the coastal cities. Everything was changing. Bud wasn’t surprised that Butcher wanted out of that damp, but Bud was worried about the timing. He’d inquired about that newly recruited fellow, Harvey, and he didn’t like what he found.

Being a Butcher’s bandit didn’t carry much weight beyond this part of the Fifth Region, but Bud had never encountered so much contradicting information or dead ends. Butcher had made a mistake accepting the conman into his band. They didn’t know who they were dealing with. For Yellow Bud, who operated information as skillfully as Black Jon handled revolvers, it added an extra layer of uncertainty.

“Mr. Kassan,” a man said from the door. He used Bud’s fake name. Going by Yellow Bud would be problematic even though Yellow Bud had no price on his head. He’d been very deliberate and meticulous in distancing his name from the official band’s roster. “I received your message.” The bald man added quietly as he lowered himself on the chair on the other side of the table.

He looked very native with his black skin and tattoos, unlike Yellow Bud, whose dark skin didn’t reach the native threshold nor his blonde hair was common in the Fifth Region. That said, neither man was native.

“Let’s discuss the business,” Yellow Bud said without outward urgency while facing the mounting pressure inside. Butcher’s timing was bad. What he’d gleaned from the letters showed that Pantheras were after Butcher’s band. Not the first rival gang to cross paths with Butcher. What made the timing bad was the increased activity of covert Imperial agents in Tucan.

Tucan wasn’t a sprawling city like the Great Cities of the Fifth Region, but it still housed over ten thousand people. It wasn’t difficult to hide amongst the natives, especially now, that many rich folks sought to experience the thrill of the Southmarshes.

“It won’t be cheap,” Farakesh said.

Yellow Bud looked at the bald man with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. They’d known each other for years and Farakesh still used the same cheap tricks that hadn’t worked in their dealings.

“Farakesh, just book the damned passage to the north. Price isn’t important.”

“You say that now, Mr. Kassan,” Farakesh said with hesitation.

“This time is different.”

“How so?”

Yellow Bud gave the other man a stare that made it clear that this information wasn’t for him to know. Without ordering anything, Farakesh left the café. Surprisingly, Yellow Bud didn’t feel remorseful. He’d worked for Butcher for as long as he remembered. Butcher wanted out, but in reality, someone like Butcher couldn’t move on. Once he left Soto, the hammer of the empire would drop on the bastard Royalblood. It seemed prudent to be far away when this happened. It only pained Yellow Bud that his brothers would have to die as well.

“Excellent coffee, Vighe,” Bud said to the owner, leaving a usual tip on the table.

Black Jon

Black Jon watched the traitorous rat squirm, tied with his feet up. Because of him, Red Bill was dead. They were down to two brothers. Black Jon didn’t inform Yellow Bud in his letter about Red Bill’s death. Some things were best said in person. Bud should be back in a day or two. Hopefully, the two brothers would be able to convince Butcher to not abandon his legacy.

Observing the traitorous bandit sow a shadow of doubt in his mind. Black Jon understood the bottom line of being a bandit. Murder, greed, but even so, there always had been a shred of loyalty that hadn’t allowed his fellow bandits to defect to another band. They cheated on one another, occasionally attempted to kill, when drunk, but a straight-out betrayal? Black Jon seethed inside. When Pantheras came, he’d seek out Perkins and make sure that the healer experienced true torture before his demise.

His musing was interrupted by Filango, one of the younger bandits.

“Boss, Butcher wants to see you.”

Black Jon had never come to terms with this. The lowest ranks called him a boss, while spoke Butcher’s nickname as if he was their equal.

“Bugger off.”

Filango scampered away, not testing Black Jon’s temper after he’d hung Siddy on the tree. Other bandits had cheered at the beginning, later they understood that any of them might find their way to the hanging tree. Not wishing to push Butcher’s patience Black Jon went to see him.

***

Butcher received him in more private circumstances than usual. Black Jon had never been in these rooms. He had never given any consideration to why his boss had kept them off the limits but Butcher didn’t need to explain anything to his subordinates. Still, the fact that he invited Black Jon inside after all this time made him wary.

Inside once the mayor’s house, Black Jon found nothing unusual that warranted the restriction except for the fact that Butcher valued seclusion. As they went deeper into the belly of the building, Black Jon saw the signs of negligence until everything around them was ruin. The walls and the ceiling were partially reclaimed by the wildlife.

Black Jon blinked unsure what he was seeing.

“Boss…” Black Jon’s voice trailed away. It wasn’t his place to comment on his boss’ living conditions. Most of their underlings lived better than this though.

Butcher sat down on a crate and pointed at the other one, Black Jon followed the cue.

“It’s over, Jon,” Butcher said without preamble. He ignored Black Jon’s reaction to the state of his place. “We’re leaving.”

Black Jon stiffened. He had no words to offer. His mind reeled.

“Bud will arrive tomorrow,” he continued. “I sent a messenger bird, asking him to transfer our funds out of Tucan. Before these idiots outside figure out what’s happening we’ll be a hundred miles from here.”

“Why?” Black Jon asked, his composure falling apart. “We can seek your allies to fight Pantheras.”

Butcher gave Black Jon an unreadable look.

“What do you know about my allies?”

“I … nothing. You’ve never been forthcoming about them beyond a simple statement that they shelter us from bounty hunters and other bands. Won’t they step in to deal with Pantheras?”

“This was the case in the past. How otherwise could I plunder the entire town, kill hundreds and not a single authority has come to deal with me?”

“The empire doesn’t care about this part of the world.”

“It’s politics, Jon. The same people who can crush me, put me here instead, told me to keep this town desolated, and if anyone comes poking about, kill them on the spot. I was given instructions on how and where to recruit subordinates. They were very thorough in this regard.”

“I don’t understand.”

Black Jon had never seen Butcher like this. He seemed like a different man.

“Our time came to an end here. The protection they’ve once offered seems no longer in place. I didn’t notice it at the time, but Harvey wormed his way into our ranks outside of our recruiting methods. All of sudden, Perkins changes the camp, Pantheras are likely to invade us and a mysterious bounty hunter comes to this region. I am a bastard Royalblood with over a century behind my belt. I’ve always trusted my instincts and now they’re screaming to get the hell out of here.”

“Boss…”

“I’m taking you with me because you’re truly loyal. I’ve never met a person so dedicated. You have my gratitude.”

“BUTCHER!!!”

A shout came from outside.

Butcher and Black Jon shared a glance.

“BUTCHER!!!”

“They crossed the line,” Black Jon jumped to his feet, happy to occupy his mind with something else. Butcher’s revelation shattered his confidence. He always believed that Soto was an unmovable center of their life. He left Butcher and shot through the rooms like an arrow. A revolver already in his hand, ready to put a bullet in an insolent bandit’s head.

Outside, he found Filango, breathing heavily. Black Jon hesitated. The day was warm, air moist and thick. But the man looked exhausted.

“Boss, there’s a man who demands to see Butcher.”

“What?” Black Jon’s nostrils flared with anger. “Then beat him senseless and drag him to the interrogation house.”

“The…” Filango caught a breath. “The man is strong. He’s already put down four men.”

Black Jon gripped a revolver and was about to order to kill the man when Butcher stepped outside.

“I will deal with him.”