“That’s funny. They’re in pieces. Looks like someone had cut ‘em up pretty well, I might say,” said the driver, rather intrigued. He was not bothered at all about the dead corpses. “but why cut ‘em up and then pile ‘em up like that? It’s a lot of work.” The corpses looked like they had been into a chopper machine and then heaped together like an anthill.

  “Why are they dead? Who are they? Who kill them?” the girl asked. She was so inquisitive that she forgot that this was her first time seeing dead bodies, dismembered dead bodies at that.

  “I don’t know, missy. They looked like they’re bandits.”

  “Bandits! You have bandits here?” the father said. He was worried.

  “Of course we do. But not around here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Coz there aren’t that many things to rob. Ya have anything for ‘em to rob?”

  “No,” the father was surprised at the question, “…not really. Only the luggage.”

  “See. They usually rob the caravan further down the river, over the lizardland. Not here. There, it’s easier to run after the job. And the caravans don’t go through here no more. They take the other route, it’s shorter. Here, sometimes, ya get some small time bandits, ya know, those that don’t make the cut.”

  “So, you do have robbers here, too.”

  “There’re robbers everywhere. Don’t ya have robbers in Middleton?”

  “Well, yes. But we have the town guards. And the towns have a pact to defend each other. They patrol the routes. Don’t you have any guards or sentries here?”

  “Nah, not over here. Who’s goin to pay? We’re pretty much on our own. But don’t ya worry. If they show up, I have my precious here to serve ‘em right,” said the driver while patting the empty seat next to him.

  The father looked really worried and started to regret the trip. I shouldn’t have come, he thought while looking at his beautiful daughter who seemed excited at the look of the dead bodies.

  She said, “What are you going to do with the dead bodies?”

  “Well, nothin?”

  “Aren’t you going to bury them?”

  “Of course, not. It’ll take a whole day. Don’t worry about ‘em, little missy. The wolves will get ‘em. And the dogs and the cats and the rodents. They’ll clean them up nicely, bone and all. We’ve got the bonecrunchers, here. They’ll loved it. They’ll the crush the bones to bits to get to the marrow. Ooh, they loved that.”

  The father and the daughter were horrified at the thought of all those wicked beasts devouring the dead corpses.

  “Isn’t that immoral?” said the girl.

  “That word hasn’t any meaning here. Don’t you do that, up north. They’re the bandits after all. They rob, and rape and kill.”

  “No, we bury them. Even the bandits,” said the daughter sincerely.

  “Ya have a good heart, missy. Ya die, and ya die. What’s the point of buryin? Now, ya hold on now. I’ll try to go round the pile.” The driver gave a tug and his four horses began to slowly walk round the corpses.

  The pile stretched from the right side to the middle of the trail. Broken weapons were strewn on the road. The horses carefully went off the trail and into the bushes but there were not that many spaces they could manoeuvre.

  “These are no bandits.”

  Just as the driver said it, the father and daughter felt a big bump. It shocked them. “What was that?” the father demanded.

  “It’s just a leg. It’s sticking out.”

  Then, there was another bump as the rear wheel went over that same leg. Beads of sweat were rolling down the old man’s face. It was nauseating. They looked at each other and tried not to imagine the leg. Next, he heard a crunching sound as the wheels went over the fingers of a dead corpse and the driver said,

  “Don’t worry, he won’t feel that.”

  After they had passed the pile of dead beings, they felt a little bit better. The father wiped his face clean, put back on his glasses and tidied his beards. The daughter suddenly asked,

  “What did you say about those bandits just now, sir?”

  “Just now? No, they’re no bandits. They’re assassins.”

  The old man nearly collapsed when he heard that word.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Bandits don’t dress like that. It’s too nice. Those are quality linen. And they don’t use those weapons. Those are dwarf-made. Expensive.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, weapons get blunt from a job. Shots are spent. For a small-time job like this, they use orcs weapons. They’re … cost effective.” The driver was quite satisfied by his analysis of the situation. And he added his prediction. “Those are hired killers. They’re hired to kill someone … important, I guess. Must be a big score to settle.”

  The father was stunned now. Hired killers. To kill someone. Who? All he could do was to hug his briefcase close to his chest. It gave him a sense of security.

  “Who did they want to kill?” the daughter asked.

  “I don’t know. Not the boss. No, ya can’t kill the boss with these low-grade killers. Maybe it’s ya all. Anybody wants to kill ya?”

  “No, …” the father responded without hesitation, “no, why would anyone? I don’t have any enemies.” His voice was almost inaudible towards the end.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “Hehe, I’m just fooling around. A pile of killers to kill ya two, and a little missy at that, that’s an overkill. Probably someone behind us, or behind the one behind us. Or it could be the ones in front. Ya know, they’re too strong, they killed the killers. Who knows. Who cares. People get killed all the time.”

  “It could be the boss that you’ve just said,” the girl said with a lightened-up face. She had something already on her mind.

  “Maybe. The puddles of blood look fresh, it’s just now. But there’s no scorchin. He’s a burner. If it’s the boss, they’ll be like charcoal. You know what, maybe ya all will get to meet him tonight. By nightfall, there’s only one city where this road can lead to. He had to stay there tonight.”

  Imagination was already starting to roll in her young adolescent mind. A mysterious powerful being with a mysterious past. I’ve never met any monster before. And he’s our saviour.

  *****

  Staghorn was like any normal mid-sized town with high walls and turrets and moats and surrounded by villages inhabited by those who could not afford a home within the town limit. It had seen better days when the caravans on their ways to the coastal cities came through the town but after the grand opening of the Westhill’s Pass, the town had lost its importance. The Staghorn route had instantly become a roundabout way to the coast. But unlike the other dozen or so towns on this far end of the old caravan trail, Staghorn still had that two vital advantages that the other towns had not; first, it was still the geographically closest town to the Pass, second, and more importantly, it had accepted the investment of the gnomish banks.

  The gnomes were a minor race in the Hordes. But their acute sense for everything that glittered made them the best race to handle money. They ran all the banks for the Hordes. They handled all the financial transactions, any plannings that involved money and resources. And due to their diminutive size, uninspiring physique and the complete absence of magic, they were dependent to the orcs and goblins for protection. And thus, a well-harmonized symbiotic relationship was born making everyone very happy. The gnomes became rich and powerful. The headquarters of these banks were all in Westhill, the nearest city to the Black Spire, and they had branches all over the coasts and Staghorn was the only one in this end of the Arwen. This was as far as the gnomes were willing to go to make their piles of coins.

  With the investment, Staghorn slowly switched its elf-oriented policy to neutral and that attracted many businesses to Staghorn. It was initially feared that the elves might leave but they did not. They were afraid to lose their ground too. This was the city furthest away from the elves’ circle of power. This was also the furthest the elves were willing to go to secure their empire. Thus, even the most unlikely ones found their ways to stay together. Staghorn had become a focal point for all the races. Despite everyone here had some form of animosity towards the others – as the saying went, everyone knew who killed their fathers and forefathers – they kept their civility for the purpose of business. It seemed money had become the great unifier after all.

  Along the main boulevard of Staghorn, the Bountiful Lane, there were many buildings on both sides and many alleys branching off from thereon. Rika was seated in one of these alleys between two big hotels facing the boulevard. They had spilled out their tables onto the streets in order to accommodate the large number of guests that were coming to town. For the last fifty years, Staghorn had faced the problem of extreme fluctuation in the number of travellers. When they came, they came in droves, stuffing the town to the point of bursting. When they did not, the town was all quiet, empty and dead. Tonight was approaching the bursting point. Next to Rika sat Drurk who looked rather squirmish, sheepish and exhausted like he had not slept for a week. At the next table sat the other three of the brotherhood of the beastmen gang: Brun, Ghella and Kroll. They were a bit uneasy to be sitting there, out in the open, with Rika in her usual scanty night gown and looking lusty. The news of the death of Bilfur should reach Staghorn by now. What would they think?, thought Brun, that I’m conspiring with Rika and to take over the gang?

  Ghella, the fat one was busy eating his ribs with his bare hands. They had ordered a cow with the head and tail intact, roasted and bloody. The innards were on the side dish, properly cleaned and roasted to medium raw. In front of all this meat, he could not have cared a bit about these silly questions. The important thing was to satisfy the hunger and thirst. He took a swig from his mug and continued eating. Kroll, the gangly one was eating too but slowly as if he was beleaguered by toothache. Every bite seemed chewy and hard to swallow. He was one of the loyalist and traditionalist. He believed in the custom and rites and now, he was going in the other direction and he did not have the will nor the strength to oppose Rika. They all envied Drurk, the fearful one. At least, he had the protection of the deadly Rika, whom he also got to bang.

  This was not how Drurk perceived his situation. He was just about to have enough of these breasts and asses that were now trying very desperately to get out from that tiny dress. He was a beastman after all, a member of a notorious gang and now he belonged inside the dress or under the skirt or whatever she happened to be wearing.

  What would happen after tomorrow? Rika still had not revealed her plan. As far as they knew, they would walk into the Bank of Underland and withdraw all the money that Bilfur had deposited. This meant that they would be robbing the money from the gang too. What would they think to them? What would they do to them? Brun was thinking. He was the inquisitive one but usually without any answer.

  After the meal, Brun made an excuse and left. The other two, the fatty and the gangly left with him. They gave Drurk a silent look. Their eyes were mystifying. Are they envying me or are they pitying me? Drurk thought. But he certainly missed the time being with them. They would go out and have a great amount of booze. They would gangbang some prostitutes. They would gangraped some females. They would get into a brawl. They would kill someone. But now, he was the one left behind. Although Rika was the prettiest and lustiest female that one could ever meet, all this meant nothing, when one had to have her every day and for the whole night and without volition.

  “You look like you want to go with them,” said Rika in her dreamy voice. Her penetrating stare gave Drurk a shiver. He tried to hide it.

  “Well, they’re my bros.”

  “Then, go,” said Rika as if she did not care.

  But Drurk remained. This must be one of her psycho thing, he thought. I ain’t gonna fall for that. And so, he just sat there like a boy eating his dinner.

  “Tell me, honey, who am I?” she said simply.

  The question was so sudden that it alarmed Drurk. He almost choked on the greasy beef that he was swallowing.

  “My … my darlin’.” Drurk could not believe he had just said that word, the most un-beastman-like word.

  “Good.” Rika smiled with pleasure. “Now drink up. I got some plans tonight.”

  That sent a shudder through Drurk’s inner self. Plans? He was already sweating. There was only so much, even for a beastman, that one could want. After that, it would be too much. Drurk had definitely too much, so much that anymore accumulating over them would make him want to puke. Suddenly, he felt Rika’s hand snaking up his thigh, caressing him through his pants. He did not stop her. He did not dare to stop her. Then, he felt it, her teasing touch on his little brother, nudging him, provoking him. Then he felt the serpent opening up her mouth and seized his balls. A sharp pain shot through him, a loud cry from his little brother that made him lurched forward. Her grip was getting stronger. Still, he did nothing. He bore the pain like a beastman that he was, the only thing that he could do. He was powerless against her.

  “Better eat up too. You’ll need it.” She let him go. He felt relieved and at the same time, he felt as if he wanted to cry. What a boy! What a shame! A beastman should die before he shed a tear. He recalled the saying of that old beast. But to be played like a doll, this was a new experience. And he certainly did not want to die. He would rather cry first. So, he started to eat and tried to forget everything through the meat and the booze.

  Brun and the others soon found another joint and started drinking again. They did not have mood for anything else. The prostitutes, these experts of males, could see the sign nice and clear and did not even bother to approach them. They just sat there silently and drank to pass the time. They talked once in a while with no particular aims and as always with no conclusions. Actually, they could have left, walked out, there and then and be done with the whole farce. But they wanted the money. And then, there was the indomitable Rika. They were hooked like a fish. She was reeling them in.