The Winter's Hunt

by R. K. Rickson

  “If things go to a numbers game, I’d imagine we’d need help. Until then, if it remains just those two, we can bring them down,” Kaito added, having made a mental note to watch his breath control while in the colder climate. He was already having some difficulty breathing while trudging along through the snow. Should he and Ryland get into a fight in the tundra, Kaito didn’t want the harsh winter sapping his air more than needed if he could avoid it.

  Ryland, on the other hand, took a deep breath of the snow-laden forest air with great gusto, and chimed, “Reminds me of back home. Any good places to eat in Hemmigatr, Jeff?”

  “They’ve excellent things to eat! Wait until we get to the village, I think you’re going to love it! You need to try the lingonberry jam if sweets are your thing,” Jeff jovially explained, patting his stomach.

  Chapter II: Best Laid Plans

  In a quiet hut that sat in a forest beyond Hemmigatr and the mountains, three men sat by a cozy fire. On the table, there were three plates of food as the trio supped on pickled herring and rabbit soup. A leather sack of coins sat slumped on the table, with small piles of neatly stacked coins around.

  The first man, with slicked back black hair and green eyes, traced his finger along the scar that ran down his left jawline, while finishing his count of the coins.

  “With everything from our most recent haul, these should be the last of the turics,” said the man with a shaved head, tattoos that wrapped around his arms, and gray eyes in his Hjaal accent.

  “We would hope so, Erik. Otherwise, you’d be more than scorned, especially if Hackshot ever found out,” replied the middle-aged man with short brown hair cropped to the sides, twirling one of his dual hunting knives. His icy blue eyes were calm yet betrayed a look of malevolence with the rest of his gaunt, sharp features, that would surface if provoked.

  Erik held up his hands in resignation and answered, “Lyle, I have been working with Boswick here for the last six months. I’ve never met Hackshot and have no want to get involved with the man. You two are his main liaisons: I just help secure the supplies you bring me and keep you out of trouble.”

  Boswick put down his spoonful of rabbit stew and glanced out of the window to the back where the woods were. Outside, the forest was quickly becoming harder to see as dusk approached. Given the winter months, daylight seldom lasted long. In the bitterly cold country of Hjaalren, the days seemed even shorter, and the nights darker. Snow cascaded down just beyond the glass and continued to pile on top of the stretch of endless white where the ground was supposed to be, the night foreboding and cozy all at once from within the hut.

  “Lyle, he’s trustworthy enough,” Boswick interjected after a moment of silence. “We’re working to a mutual benefit. Erik keeps us out of public sight and runs our materials with his unfettered access to the ports and ships here. In turn, we help set him up by strengthening his position with goods, supplies, money, which all lead to a greater position of power. Once he has enough to leverage, that’s when Erik can make his move with his supporters.”

  “His supporters?” Lyle asked with an eyebrow raised, not quite following what Boswick was explaining.

  Erik took a swig of his beer, wiped his chin, then elaborated, “I’m aiming to challenge the jarl of Hemmigatr for his position. Over time, I’ve gained support from some of his men and shown myself to be a more proactive leader than he. I was the one who supplied the village with extra food with the money from your hauls when the winter hit us badly last year, not him. Not only that, but one of my own contacts is on his council. She relays everything to me, siphons the jarl’s funds without him knowing, and keeps him from truly solving the tearwolf problem of late by misinformation.”

  “Sabotaging by subterfuge, eh?” Lyle quipped, amused by what he was hearing. “Usurpation: not something to take lightly, you know.”

  “I’m well aware of the situation, Lyle. This has been a work in progress over the past year, and it’s going smoothly, thanks to the afforded profits from you two and our business relationship. Now, let’s talk upon the coming event which will help form the perfect time to challenge the jarl.”

  “By all means, you have fenced for us and proven to be an effective associate: tell us what you need us to do,” Boswick offered, twirling a table knife in his fingers.

  Erik put his hands on the table, looked at Lyle, then Boswick, and explained, “In the coming days, there will be an accident, if you catch my drift. Another tearwolf attack will happen, but this time in the actual village. I will capture one and lead it to Hemmigatr, let it loose on the town, and have one of the village elders fall to it at the wrong place and time. The village has already steadily lost faith in the jarl’s ability to act over time, and with one of their elders falling to the tearwolves, it will frame him to look even weaker. From there, that’s when I move in and accuse him publicly, and challenge him for his jarldom.”

  “What if he defeats you?” Lyle asked.

  “A sound question. I’ve taken steps at that level as well to make sure his chances are slim to none against me. The tearwolf attack on the elders won’t be the only mishap of the village. When he goes on his monthly hunt in his usual locale, I’ve laid some traps out on the trail, as well as have another tearwolf to draw forth out there. He’ll either get injured or exhaust himself at the very least against it. If he dies, the votes are already in my favor. If that fails, I’ve been talking with a man that wants a shot at being jarl as well: I’ll see him destroyed if I deem the jarl too dangerous to fight. Once I take jarl, I’ll ask one of his two daughters to marry me. If they decline, I’ll exile them. They’ll no doubt be upset with their father being taken out of the picture and splitting the family ties up with that decision that will either keep one of them close with me at all times, or have the lot of them exiled.”

  “Leaving him to take the fall,” Boswick summated aloud with a grin. “A rather underhanded tactic for one that lives in a culture of honor and grit. But certainly effective.”

  “It may be underhanded, but the village is convinced I can do no wrong,” Erik mirthfully replied. “If a leader cannot be trusted, then how can his people rely on him? Between having some of the council paid off, having one of his closest advisors continuously spreading misinformation about him and slowly make him seem to be incompetent, half of the work is done. He looks weak when he convenes with the other jarls, one of the raids of smaller islands failed due to false maps, and he avoids conflict when he can. Not that anyone would blame him for wanting to avoid senseless bloodshed with the raids if he can. Normally, one would not seek conflict if their manpower was spread thin and their supplies were short. But one must show they still have a spine when your people are looking to you.”

  “And I’m guessing the village supplies and stores they need are getting sent to Hackshot instead, correct?” Lyle asked, intrigued by the minor details of the operation.

  “Right you are,” Erik confirmed, waving his hand with a flourish. “Thanks to you two and the deal we have, all of us have benefitted to great gain. Your boss will be able to expand his supply chain beyond the Jepsward Sea like he wants to at this rate.”

  “That’s the plan,” Boswick concurred with a slight nod of his head. “Hackshot has planned for some time to expand his operations, and he’s approaching the total needed funds and resources to make that happen.”

  Erik grinned and stretched his arms to the side, then exclaimed, “Then mutual benefit certainly has prevailed here, indeed! You both have helped me position myself to take on the jarl. I cannot wait to see just how much business and the supply line will expand!”

  Boswick took a pewter pitcher from the table and refilled their goat horn mugs with a dark local beer. Setting the pitcher down after, he lifted his mug out to Lyle and Erik, prompting them to do the same.

  “Well gentlemen, here’s to the best laid plans coming to fruition,” Boswick toasted, as the three men bumped their drinks together and quaffed in unison.

  Er
ik proudly exhaled, thumped his fist on his chest, then added, “Ah, good old Tignir Porter! Warms you up on the inside against the cold.”

  “Not bad. However, I’d rather have some of that Snowbane Mead that’s so spoken of here,” Lyle grumbled, looking at the dark porter in his mug.

  “In due time, Lyle. Once I take the jarl’s position, I will make sure you get more than your fill,” Erik retorted, sensing Lyle’s dismay at the dark drink.

  “Oh wow! This is Tignir Porter? It’s incredible!” Ryland exclaimed, having gulped his drink with Jeff and Kaito while surveying the inside of the large tavern of the village.

  Mounted bear heads and deer skulls were placed on the walls, with one of a large white wolf with an elongated snout on a red plaque over the stone fireplace that sat in the center of the room. The wooden roof had wooden rings hanging from them on iron chains, with candles seated in slots to give the place light from above while the torches on the wall gave more immediate light in the vicinity. On all four main walls, a banner was hung, each of a design with three red triangles sat against an icy blue background. The noise of the tavern was full of talking, laughter, and a bit of yelling across each different table, while the men and women sat with either large coats or pelts hung on their chairs to dry after the harsh winterscape, finally at a calm from the earlier storm as the moon began to shine from a break in the clouds.

  “It’s a favorite to the locals around here. Thicker than most,” Jeff answered, while tearing into smoked cod with chopped baked potatoes.

  “We’ve got the inn booked for the next few weeks, what’s the plan from here?” Kaito asked, also enjoying some of the smoked cod before him on his place and looked to Ryland.

  “Tomorrow, we go to meet Jarl Torga Axe-Smasher and have council with him to let him know we’re here to help,” Ryland replied, before taking another quaff of his drink and then digging into the lingonberry jam before him. “Hjaalren is a country that apparently is still warming up to the idea of bounty hunters showing up of recent. They also have a bit of resentment for the IHB putting a post in the country, since it opens the door for outsiders to come through more often.”

  “Wouldn’t that bolster trade and help the country, though?” Kaito asked.

  Jeff shook his head with a serious face and replied, “Not quite. The citizens of the country are big on keeping problems and trading to within their own borders. Not that they completely shun it, but on a microeconomic level, they view the IHB as outside interference with the flow of their money.”

  “But the IHB pays for us, not the locales,” Ryland countered. “Why would that interfere? We still have to operate within a country’s laws, after all.”

  “Because bounty hunters have great freedom with their licenses to avoid some regulations of places. The fine lines between the letter of the law and spirit of the law sometimes blurs, with IHB being recognized as both international, yet independent all at once. It’s a shifty deal for your usual citizen that ain’t too keen on having strangers just show up and do things. Not only that, but tasks they would usually handle stand to be solved by hunters. This puts a variable in their established and somewhat tightly-made trade and barter market. Do you get it?”

  Ryland nodded slowly, taking in all of the information, and conceded, “It makes sense, I didn’t even know about all of that. How do you know so much on the matter, Jeff?”

  Jeff pulled out his favorite smoking pipe out of his coat pocket, a black and cherrywood make and finish.

  Having stuffed some tobacco into his pipe, Jeff looked to Ryland with a sly wink and replied, “When you’re in the seafaring supply, transport, and delivery business, you see many places and get your feet wet with how business works in each place. The Hjaal folk were once even less than hospitable toward the crew and me. We built the trust up over time to where the jarls, and even High Jarl Ostein began to trust us with their business.”

  “Which jarl are you on the best terms with?” Kaito asked while Jeff lit the tamped tobacco with a match and puffed small, thick clouds into the air. A pleasant vanilla and oak scent hung around the table, adding to the already-liked scent of oak from the fireplace.

  “Jarl Torga is a longtime friend of mine. I’d say he would be the closest to me. He was the first one to defend our right to sail and do business here, and got the others to trust me. I owe him big. Of late however, Hemmigatr has been having some problems. There seems to be a shortage of supplies and money, all going missing for starters. Some botched raids, unrest with the village, and more. This has been going on the last few months: I’m kinda worried for old Torga.”

  “That’s not good. Well, if Boswick and Lyle have any connection to it, all the more reason to bring them to justice.”

  From over at the bar, a woman in a brown bear pelt with long red hair down to her lower back, turned from her stool at the bar nearby towards Ryland’s table, glared with a stern face and spat in her Hjaal accent, “Great, another outsider wanting to interfere with us. Stay out of our politics.”

  Her beautiful features, porcelain skin and shining green eyes almost disarmed Ryland from the sentiment as he calmly replied, “Lass, we have no quarrel or want to get involved with your issues. We just simply want to hunt our bounties and be gone.”

  Some of the other folks from the table heard the exchange and turned to focus their attention on the two.

  “Oh, more weak little outsiders from that damned IHB, hm? You lot are worthless as the day is long.”

  Ryland sat back, his eyes now matching hers with growing intensity as he replied with more sting in his tone, “Weak? You don’t even know us. What do you have against the IHB?”

  The tension in the room grew as Jeff motioned to Ryland to consider ending the conversation. Kaito kept his eyes up for any potential contenders that would cause them trouble.

  “They’re supposed to help places that struggle with crime, and yet one caused one here not too long ago.”

  “One of the IHB hunters? They’re not supposed to commit crimes and are every bit liable under the law as the next,” Ryland explained.

  The young woman scoffed and swatted down in disgust, and retorted, “Well, he’s got your fancy little logo over his stuff: we found a small little banner of yours at one of our storehouses completely cleaned out. This look familiar?”

  She pulled out a banner of silver that had a sword crossed over the shadow of a compass, and three solid gold bars behind it: the unmistakable logo of the IHB.

  Ryland’s face went wide with shock as the tavern folks began to whisper among their selves, the silence growing in the process.

  Ryland focused his tone into one of confidence and good intent as he shot back, “It is indeed the IHB banner, yes. I don’t know who of our ranks would’ve done such a thing, but as a man of honor, I will personally help locate them and bring them to justice as well. No one of our ranks should be besmirching the integrity of our group like that.”

  The young woman began to bristle at Ryland’s words: instead of helping calm her down, it seemed to only inflame her temper.

  “Oh, trust one outsider to handle another! Real honest work, there!” she angrily spoke, her voice slowly rising. “Next you’ll tell me the IHB saves lives like they boast? All they’ve done is ruin our village with a three-month supply of food and winter preparations, just vanishing all of a sudden! Families are going to starve at this rate, and with the village already in trouble, how could you begin to even help?!”

  “If you’d quit being so obstinate, we probably could do more to help,” Ryland replied, feeling his own blood begin to boil at the sheer gumption the local had with him. “I’m offering to help find a solution with you, especially if one of our own are running amok! You’re just focused on being irate! I don’t want anyone to starve or suffer if it’s on behalf of the IHB. Is that not part of what we do? To help others?”

  “At a price. Next you’ll probably charge some exorbitant amount to find the supplies. I bet you’re in caho
ots with the perpetrator, even.”

  Kaito and Jeff were now completely fixed on the conversation, watching the two continue to exchange words with increasing hostility.

  “I was told the Hjaal are honorable people,” Ryland said, deciding to appeal to the sense of honor. “I was told you all value a trusting ally both in life and battle. I’m denying nothing for whoever this person in our ranks is, and offering my help – at no charge, mind you! – to set things right, because that’s what honorable people do, right? But you want to sit here and waste your breath hurling inflammatory remarks instead, doing your people no good. Do I have that right?”

  Kaito saw the faces of the tavern patrons soften, swayed by Ryland’s words. However, even he wasn’t ready for what he heard next.

  “Pfft. What do you know about honor? Did your parents raise you to be a coward behind your words?” the woman scoffed.

  Ryland’s face started to flush red as he felt his blood roil. The idea that anyone would sully his family name or McGregor’s was a hard line: and the woman there had crossed it.

  “What do you know about parents, you snide wench? Did yours raise you to be a haughty little bitch like that?” Ryland roared back, shaking the woman out of her composure while the locals all leaned back in their chairs.

  The patrons gasped as the woman’s anger visibly met Ryland’s on the same level. Her eyes went wide, and her right hand became a fist as she started to stand up. Ryland realized he may have struck a nerve with the way the locals reacted, but he didn’t care.

  “Step outside. I, Leila, can’t let such a slight on my family name slide,” the young woman uttered with vehemence.

  “Good. We finally agree on something,” Ryland retorted, as he too got up from his chair. The two made their way for the front door as most of the patrons began to follow them outside.

  Leila briskly opened the door and walked down the wooden steps, as Ryland followed behind her into the night snow.