HRESS - (Several Months before Hress meets Amaryllis and Chicory)

I was sat among tall yellowish reeds just shy of a wide dirt road.

Red from sunburn.

Hungering.

Thirsting.

Feet sore.

I’d found a large yellow blister on my left heel.

I hadn’t been able to resist the urge to pop it.

I’d hobbled for half the day, stopping every few minutes to sit down and rest.

Again I climbed to my feet and walked on.

Every step was agony.

Off in the distance I could see the vague shape of Rose City.

Tall masterworks of centuries old stone.

From so far away the city looked like the teeth of a rusted old key. I could see Wish Mountain beyond the city.

The way the two overlapped seemed to imply they were close together. The horizon was lying.

It was mid-afternoon and there was no end to the soddin’ road.

Weakly, I started to laugh.

Faced down.

My bed gave no relief.

Colourful blotches danced in front of my closed eyes. I recognized Dad’s firm hand pressing at the nape of my neck.

“Sod off,” I grunted, tasting dirt.

“Sit up,” Dad said.

I ignored him.

Someone else would need to work the fields.

Dad’s grip lowered to my shirt collar.

He pulled hard.

I wasn’t on my bed.

I was still on the road.

Old weathered boots were a handwidth from my face.

I turned over and looked up at the stranger.

He wore a long black coat despite the heat of the day, and a loose fitting grey shirt and trousers.

Every piece of his clothing looked in need of a good wash.

My heavy-lidded eyes couldn’t yet focus on the man’s face.

“Are you trying to get to Rose City?” said the man in a deep, craggily voice.

“I just thought I’d take rest by the side of the road,” I said, forcing a grin that caused my cracked lips to sting.

I propped myself up on one elbow as if I had meant to lay in the middle of the road.

“Are you on your own?” said the man.

“Yeah, looks like it, don’t it?” I said.

There was several moments of silence without a single hum or whistle or breath of wind.

“So,” I said, looking at the man’s knees, “You wouldn’t happen--” my head lilted for a moment, the ground seeming to want to flip

over like a coin, “--to have some water on you, mate?”

“Ye-ah,” said the man, drawling out the word.

He walked over to a large horse-led wagon. He returned to where I was sat and passed me a pigskin canteen.

I didn’t want to come across as some sort of beggar in need of charity, so I stopped at two mouthfuls and handed the canteen back.

“You run away from home, kid?” said the man.

“Yes, actually,” I said, “I suppose I must look like the sort.”

I hadn’t shaved in two weeks. Hadn’t cleaned myself more than sparing washes at ponds and rivers for fear of being found by my pursuers.

Surely they must have given up the chase by now?

I climbed to my feet.

The man was two heads shorter than me.

His face was set with deep lines and his head of grey hair wispy and combed back.

He was old.

“Which way are’ya headed?” he asked, his eyes squinting from the sun as he looked up at me.

I pointed over to the thin strip that was Rose City.

At this time of day, around this time of year, Rose City was caught in the shadow of Wish Mountain.

“Is that your way home?” said the old man.

I considered lying.

“No,” I said, “But it’s the way I’m going.”

I offered the man a hand to shake. He looked at my hand before pulling back his right coat sleeve.

There was something wrong with his arm.

It looked like it might’ve belonged to a doll.

“Here,” the old man said, letting the sleeve drop and offering his left hand to shake.

I shook his left with my own.

“Hahn Ashman,” said the old man.

“Hress. Hress Dunter,” I said.

Hahn looked towards Rose City.

“I’m headed on that way but…” he pointed a crooked thumb back to his horse, “Tabatha’s not going to be much use leading the wagon in this heat. So I’ll be stopping here until the sun sets in a few hours. What do you…”

He seemed to consider his words carefully, “...say to an afternoon lunch?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any money,” I said.

“I wouldn’t take it if you did,” said Hahn, “If you want to get out of the heat go sit in the wagon and I’ll see to setting up a fire.”

“I don’t mind helping, mate,” I said, “It’s the least I could do.”

“You can help,” said Hahn, “But get out of the heat for a while. Your face looks like a to-may-ta.”

I couldn’t be bothered to argue with him.

The wagon was a mess inside.

Untidy clothes scattered atop crates.

And travel supplies. And a spare wagon wheel. And an old breastplate with the emblem of the Baseline Guard - a wall - nailed to the left-side interior of the wagon.

After two weeks on the run with the outdoors as my bed, the wagon, by comparison, was practically a palace.

I sat for twenty minutes in the shade.

Hahn appeared and reappeared as he went about making a small fire just off to the side of the main road.

He then had Tabatha lead the wagon sideways.

By doing this the wagon provided a little bit of shade we could sit under.

Hahn took Tabatha from where she was reigned at the front and brought her round to the shade as well. She sat, just as relieved as the two of us to be out of the heat.

Hahn took a small fold out chair from the wagon and set it down by the small fire.

“Grab something from the wagon unless you want to sit on your ass,” said Hahn.

“Alright,” I mumbled.

For all the junk inside the wagon there wasn’t much that could be taken out and sat on.

I spotted a little wooden box tucked on its side between two large crates.

I took hold of it, finding it to be much heavier than expected.

I opened it and flinched at the sight of hundreds of bounacheries - more money than I had ever seen in my life.

I hastily put the box back where I found it and returned to Hahn.

“Couldn’t find anything then?” said Hahn.

“Nah,” I said, sitting on my ass.

Unappetizing grey sludge bubbled in the small cauldron.

Hahn used an old wooden spoon to fill up a bowl with the grey sludge.

He then handed the bowl over to me.

“What is it?” I said.

“Porridge,” said Hahn, a little insulted, “What’s it look like?”

“Porridge,” I said, tiredly.

“I don’t have a spare spoon so you’ll have to drink or somethin’,” said Hahn.

“No problem,” I said, “Thanks for this, mate.”

Hahn nodded slowly.

I waited for him to eat a mouthful of porridge.

Since he didn’t die on the spot, I brought the bowl to my lips and drank.

The porridge tasted too watery and too thick at the same time.

How someone could make such a mess out of something as simple as porridge I had no idea.

I swallowed the mouthful and finished the remainder in the bowl.

“I’m not much of a cook,” said Hahn, “But I don’t particularly care about what I eat either.”

“It was nice, thank you,” I said, “Just need the right amount of milk, let it simmer, add a pinch of salt…”

Hahn’s eyebrows raised.

Then he sneered.

“So you’re set on running away from home then?” he said.

“It’s been a long time coming,” I said.

“You got anything…anyone waiting for you in Rose?”

“No,” I said, “But it shouldn’t be too hard to find work.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Hahn.

“You’ve been there before?” I said.

“Many times,” he said, “I’ve travelled all over.”

“What do you do?” I asked.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” he said.

He could see I was watching him more cautiously.

“I only hunt Accursed,” he said.

“You kill the monsters from Wish Mountain?” I said.

“Ye-ah,” he drawled.

“Is it a good living?” I said.

Hahn considered the question.

I noticed that, for an old man, he still had most of his teeth.

“If you can live through it, it’s a very good living,” he said.

“How many Accursed have you killed?”

Hahn shrugged, “I lost count.”

“So…are you on your own?” I said.

“Ye-ah,” he said, “Just me.”

He pointed vaguely in the direction of Rose City.

“On foot you’ll get to Rose City in about two weeks,” he said, “On my wagon you’d get there in a couple of days.”

“I’m not looking to impose,” I said, “You’ve shown me enough kindness, mate.”

Hahn raised his hand to hush me.

“I’m not looking to give you charity, but I was thinking there’s a way we could help each other out.”

When he saw I didn’t object to hearing him out, he said, “I’ve got a few bounties that’ll take me a month that way.”

He pointed North-West of Rose City and Wish Mountain.

“There’s villages that have set bounties asking for help with Accursed running amock. Mostly harmless, but you got to know how to kill them to get the job done right.”

He cleared his throat.

“If there’s nothing pressing you to head to Rose City right away, I could use your help.”

“Use my help?” I said.

“Yeah,” he said, “It won’t be pretty work but it’ll tide you over until you find some other employment.”

I scratched my right temple, idle curiosity taking hold of me.

“So what’ll it involve?” I said.

Hahn smiled.