Black-leg Sportsman

*************

Wyatt Graves

Abraham, Virgil, and I sit in a row atop the multi-floored inn that Virgil managed to score us yesterday. It was pretty expensive, but I don't feel all that bad for the thieves Virgil stole from to pay for it. The coin wasn't theirs anyway. Never was.

The three of us are silent after our recent game of cards, ending with Virgil's win. I'm pretty sure he cheated. Not that I'll blame him or accuse him. It's... it's what we do. Abraham and I just really weren't in the mood for it after... after Bonfire.

So, I extend my legs beyond the roof's edge while overlooking the sprawling city that spreads like a vast wreath of ramshackle huts, bars, and the occasional fancy manor beneath the canvas of the dawn sky. The hues of the rising sun paint the horizon in shades of gold and amber, casting a tranquil glow over the landscape. But despite the serenity of the rising morning, something I'm soon to fall asleep under, my mind is ensnared by the shadows of impending events.

A duel awaits me on the horizon, a confrontation that looms just a few days away. I am posited to fight Ryder Adkins—son of Maddox Adkins. We aren't entirely sure it'll even work, replacing Autumn with me, but there is little hope besides that gamble. Autumn isn't prepared to fight her brother. And I won't let Virgil do it while still recovering, even if I think he's stronger than me. Neither of them is capable how they are.

I don't even think I am. But... I will have to be. However, my thoughts struggle to tether themselves to the upcoming contest past those simple considerations. Instead, they drift inexorably towards the recent losses, or rather, the presumed losses, of the three—the weight of their absence clings to my consciousness like an unshakable specter.

Is this what it was like for them when I was gone?

The whole time we played cards, I kept looking to the side, expecting him to be there. But he wasn't. And neither were Frozen or Clumsy. All of those idiots are gone. Cigar. Woody. Frozen. Clumsy. Bonfire. The whole fucking group...

It tears me up inside. Why is it the joyful ones that die? The happy ones?

First, it was Marion, and then Otto joined him in the Underworld. But it was also Vernon. Then Heath. Then Cigar and Woody. And now, finally, those three. I don't want to think they are all three dead. Hell, I don't even want to imagine one of them dead.

But... that quartet would have little reason to keep one alive, let alone three. I just... haah...

Sleep, though not elusive, fails to offer respite. In the quiet hours of the night, dreams unfurl before me. They are vivid memories of the good times we had, hopeful of more in the future. They continue to weave scenarios of what might have transpired had I lingered, scenarios that persist even after I open my eyes to the morning light. The uncertainty, the gnawing doubt, remains in the recesses of my mind. The self-loathing overshadows the impending duel that should command my attention.

I should have stayed. I should have fought, even if I died in the process. At least... no, what am I thinking. That is the opposite of what those three wanted.

As the sun ascends, casting its warm embrace upon the city below, I grapple with the echoes of loss. Virgil lowers his head as the sun's rays fall upon us, the man hiding his countenance from its radiance.

Even just that tiny gesture fills me with even more profound sadness. The only times Virgil has felt the sun in the past year are when it is burning him alive.

"Does it get easier?"

I only realize I voiced the question as Virgil glances at me slightly, his eyes peering out at me from under his mask. The man doesn't move his head but only pats me on the shoulder.

Shaking my head, I pivot and move away from the edge, heading toward the door that leads into the building. As I walk away, however, Virgil calls out to me, his head focused on me. I pause as his voice enters the early morning air.

"People die, Wyatt. They always have and always will. It doesn't get easier. You just have to get tougher. One day... I, too, will die. So will Abraham. So will you. Death is natural. Don't... don't let it nail you to the floor."

There are so many things I want to say, so many things I want to yell, so many things I want to hit, and so many things I want to rage at, but I stop myself. I only notice that Virgil can't bring himself to look at me, and Abraham is fingering that necklace he always wears, the one of a balance. I force my legs to move and carry me under the door before I throw my back against the wall inside the inn.

Wiping my eyes, I tell myself the truth and take a deep breath to calm down.

Virgil isn't being callous.

He isn't being heartless.

He isn't being monstrous.

That is simply how he must see the world to survive. I mean, he's had to kill and bury his own younger brother. That is merely the tip of the iceberg as well. I've heard scarce of his time as a Damned, but the things he must have done are beyond my imagination.

I hate that I am gradually becoming like that. It's not insensitive or cruel. It's simply... sensitized. You can only be beaten so many times before the pain hurts less. Or, more accurately, you react less.

Almost mechanically like one of Earl's tools, I return to our room. The figures that step past me back away the second they get close, a low growl from my hand acting without my ask. Blodwyn is silent, but he can feel my pain, too.

I open the door that we left unlocked, knowing nothing important was left inside, only to find a sobbing figure on the main bed. Autumn sits hunched, crying into her hands as I close the door behind me with a click.

She glances up at me with reddened eyes. Her midnight blue hair shrouds her face as Autumn coughs out a sentence that I hardly understand.

"I want to fight him."

What?

Is she mad?

I hurry forward, forgetting my roaming thoughts for a moment as I take her shoulders into my hands. She stares at me with complete sincerity, something I can't possibly comprehend.

"What the hell are you talking about? We've already been over this! You can't fight Ryder! Where have you been the past day? We were looking all over for you!"

Autumn's head sinks as if the truth has been beaten back into her. The shoulders of the woman falter, and she slips backward in the bed, splaying her dense hair outward.

I raise an eyebrow as more tears leak from her eyes, confusing me further. What is happening? I raise a hand toward her but stop.

"Are you okay? What changed? You were on board with this plan the last time we saw you."

Autumn simply shakes her head with a simple reply, one that I have an argument against.

"Nothing changed. I just... I just don't want my brother to die."

"What about all that he did to you? To Rhuger? Why don't you want him dead?"

The woman sits up and sniffles, glaring at me with scorn.

"Do you have any siblings?"

I hesitate on my answer because of Lily, but I give her what she's expecting.

"No."

Autumn stands, ruffles her hair, and retrieves a few dozen gold dollars from the bag at her hip. A scoff is the only real noise she makes other than her voice.

"Then you wouldn't understand. We fight, we feud, and we make up. The battles between us only ever got truly deadly because of our father. I... I love Ryder. I love Rhuger. They are the only family I've ever had. Come, let's go do something other than wallow in our own fucking suffering."

I can tell Autumn's hiding something as she roughly slams some coins into my hand, but I don't want to force it out of the crying lass. Instead, I follow her out of the room with only a minor complaint.

"I was coming in here to go to sleep... We might have stayed up all night playing cards and telling stories."

A hand grips my shoulder and pulls me from the room as Autumn closes the door behind us and locks it with one of the two keys we have. The other is with Abraham, as Virgil can simply Flicker through any ordinary object—an invaluable skill for stealing.

What wasted talents... Ha! Who am I kidding? He's a much better as...

What am I saying? I should be paying attention to where Autumn is taking me, or I won't know my way back when she gets drunk.

"Well, you can sleep later. Now, you're coming with me for something else. A... Kingstown special. Bootio. It's a stupid name for a stupid gambling game, but I need something to distract me. It's one of the few things Father would let us do when we're younger."

I raise an eyebrow as we move through the streets, heading for the docks. The path is eerily similar to how we arrived there the other day when she challenged her brother, but I have trouble genuinely paying attention. The lack of sleep hardly affects me due to... well, an extensive list of reasons, but another thing falls in its place.

My focus is more so on what the fuck Bootio is.

"And this game... Bootio... what is it?"

Autumn laughs as she stares at me, the tears all gone from her facade. How did she do that so quick? It looks like nothing was affecting her at all just a few moments ago. This woman... she's... trained. I don't know what Maddox put her through, but when she wants to, Autumn can hide herself as adeptly as Virgil.

It's a little worrisome, to be honest, but I listen as she details the game to me. As she talks, I quickly grow distracted as in the distance, I hear mentions of The Cabin. Worried whispers and panicked voices speak of it as an ill omen. That the world is ending. Rumors of people taken and losing their minds are on the rise. I stop and stare at one man, full of tears and shuddering beside mocking mates about his wife, who was turned into a silvery monster.

A snap in my face brings my attention back to Autumn. I discard the worried thoughts of the cabin and focus on her for now. That isn't good, though. Soon the Lighthouses will all fall.

"Ey, listen! It's a fun game. Basically, we place bids on unopened crates that have been taken from raids in different places. They are typically separated by a category, like Pygmy, Nahullo, or whatever. Once you open it, the people there will purchase whatever is inside of it back from you, but only if you want them to, of course."

I follow along with her words but find a curious part toward the end.

"Buy it back? Then what's the point of doing it at all?"

Autumn giggles again, hiding her mouth with her hand as we enter the region of the docks. She grabs my hand and leads me to a stand in the distance, surrounded by crates in metal boxes with locks. That must be it.

A wooden sign above it is illegible gibberish that resembles letters. Someone must have paid for a job without being able to read. I don't know if that's hilarious or sad.

I'll pick the former.

"The point of it is to have fun! Sometimes, you find something cool inside them! I remember Rhuger found an old bottle of whisky from one that we all drank from. And one time, Vanessa got a Colt! These things aren't widespread among the people here, but they were fun to us. Still are."

I nod in understanding as we square up to the dilapidated shack that holds the crates for... for Bootio. This place sure doesn't look 'widespread' to me, but Autumn seems to know the owner.

"Hey, Bucharamenestis!"

My eyes close themselves at the name, the many syllables leaving and entering my mind instantly. Not remembering that. I refuse to. The back of the man Autumn refers to turns around and faces us appropriately.

The man has a bizarrely large nose with a visibly opulent pimple. The pus is already streaming down it in tiny rivulets. I can hardly look at this man as he shouts with joy at seeing my friend.

"Autumn, my dear! So glad to see you! I've got a recent shipment right from Illstra's Academy! Those damn Pygmies had no idea what hit them! Hahaha! I tell you, your father brings the most delicious goods! I just had to scoop up whatever I could!"

I notice Autumn awkwardly laugh at the mention of her father, but the woman quickly disregards her old man, focusing on the place I've never heard of before.

"Illstra's Academy?! That's where the raid was?! How did they make it that deep into the Flats without Tonuyn stopping them?"

Buchar—nope, chuckles merrily as he wipes his nose before leaning backward and hauling a sealed box onto the table, slapping it with his calloused skin. I step to the side, checking the pus now stained into the wood as the man waves his hands grandly.

"Yes! The Dominions were distracted, and your father went on a grandiose adventure. He made pitstops at Illstra's Academy, stealing much of their technology, Daemon's Gathering, gathering many heads and, including Falling Rain, and he even stopped by the Nahullo's outpost in Starkbluffs! I must say, however, I am a... tad disappointed he didn't venture into Daemon's Accord. The wealth that must be stored there! The gold... the weapons... I can only shiver at the thought. Only the Undying has ever set foot upon those lands! Ah, what he saw!"

My mind slowly comes into frame as I recall all of these places. I have heard of them before. Marshall taught me of them. Illstra's Academy is the capital of the Pygmies, where their best and brightest go to learn and grow stronger. As for Daemon's Gathering and Daeomn's Accord, they are two places where demons... well, gather and make deals with each other. They are some of the few demonic cities we know of, other than the Binary Lord's abodes that span the length of human cities. Once again, though, I'm reminded of my father's ability to go wherever he pleased as done could put him down permanently.

Autumn grows excited at the man's words, and I join her. The things in this crate could be extraordinary. Sure, it's unlikely that Maddox or his crew threw something interesting into this box or found this box in a vault and didn't open it, but the chance is there. Illstra's Academy is the premier location for technology and Ether constructs within all of the world, held deep within the Pygmy's Flats.

Man, I wish Earl were here. He would make this damn thing so awesome. Well... whatever. I'll get him here someday.

"Well, Bucharamenestis, let's get started. How much for one for me and my friend?"

The game master grins as he grabs another crate and hands out the tools, worn-out crowbars that have seen their fair share of plunder. He extends two hands, one at each of us, with a grunt.

"You think you can cough up twenty a piece? They fellers are a once-in-a-lifetime commodity, after all."

Autumn sighs before nodding, slipping me some extra as we both pay. Buc—nope still, chortles with glee as he nods for us to begin.

Beside me, my friend's eyes sparkle with excitement. Autumn plunges the crowbar into the side of her crate. Then, she wrenches it back and forth, Ether tinged into her arms. It only takes a few seconds before it cracks, and a rainbow of juice bottles spills out. Her enthusiasm is contagious as she takes one and pops it open to drink from, and I can't help but laugh.

While drinking her juice, she points to my box, bouncing up and down on her heels. I know what she's alluding to.

It's my turn. I jam the crowbar into the crate and rip my arm to the side. The lid gives way with little effort due to my strength, revealing a sea of tiny balls. They roll out onto the table before the game master shouts in surprise, diving forward and cradling them with his hands.

"You! I—I had a crate of Pygmy explosives!? Oh shit... heyuh! Autumn!? Do you... maybe want to buy the rest from Illstra's Academy? Discount, of course."

I examine the spheres suspiciously as Autumn shakes my shoulder, whispering into my ear.

"See? Isn't this fun? It's like stealing weapons from a mass murderer."

Then, she stands back up and nods to the man before us.

"What kind of discount are we talking? Eighty?"

Buch, I'll call him Buch, vehemently shakes his head and refutes her offer.

"Twenty."

Autumn fires back as they enter a war of words.

"Seventy."

"Thirty."

"Sixty."

"Forty."

"Fifty."

"Deal."

After Buch recloses the box I opened, the two shake hands at half-price, sliding it to me. Then, he reaches back and places six more on the floor outside his shop, putting his hand out for Autumn. She pays him the sixty gold coins he's asking for, and the ugly man waves us goodbye, shooing us off for more customers that I don't think he'll get.

Autumn, however, can't be any happier as she stands with our eight total boxes and her hands on her hips. Somehow, this actually has gotten my mind away from things. She tosses me a crowbar as we slide the crates away from the shop.

"So? Wanna open the rest? You did just get a few hundred Pygmy explosives. Those are worth a pretty penny, even if they are likely to explode on you."

I laugh and nod, reaching down with my crowbar to open another.