Finding replacements for their saddlebags turned out to be surprisingly easy. A leather trader who’d stayed open hoping to capitalize on the late night traffic drawn by the pleasure wheeler was more than happy to accommodate them. Gwen traded the high-quality demon leather for some high-quality regular leather backpacks and a fair amount of silver coins besides.
“Good excuse to get some spending money,” Gwen said, stowing her goggles before starting to rub down her duster with some sort of oil. While it was meant to protect the material, she’d said it would also make it look more worn and faded for the next few weeks.
Jed was in the process of doing the same with his own, neither of them wanting to give up the tough garments, but realizing fresh hunter outfits would paint a bit of a target on their backs.
In addition, Gwen also suggested he let his hair and beard grow out, instead of letting Mythlyn give him daily ‘shaves’ using her warp-fire.
“Unacceptable,” Mythlyn sent to both of them. “He looks atrocious with a beard.”
“It’s not going to be permanent,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes as she worked. “Just long enough to get out of the closer communities, break up that jawline of his.”
“Been a while since I had stubble,” Jed said, reaching up to scratch his chin. “I seem to remember it itching somewhat.”
“Another reason we should not do this.”
“You know, for a woman who’s just a friend, you have awfully strong opinions about my partner’s appearance,” Gwen said, smirking as she moved her brush in long smooth strokes that Jed attempted to emulate.
“For a woman who claims to want to be his long term partner, you are far too cavalier. Do you not want him to remain noble and dignified?”
“You saying a beard can’t be noble and dignified?” Gwen asked, looking straight at Jed’s hip and waggling her eyebrows.
Which was a bit disconcerting for Jed, even if he knew Mythlyn was there.
“I’m saying that it won’t on Jed. But I have offered my opinion. If Jed believes the benefits are worth the irritation, I shall say no more.”
“Appreciate having a choice about my own face,” Jed said with a wry chuckle. “And we’ll see how it grows. Been a while since I tried. Who knows, maybe it’ll grow in better?”
Mythlyn sent a small ‘humph’ through their connection, but otherwise, that was the end of the conversation far as Jed was concerned.
Best he could, he ignored the bit afterwards when Mythlyn and Gwen started discussing how he might style the beard, if it turned out he could grow a good one. He’d gladly oblige them, whatever they chose.
Instead, he focused on the simple labor of applying the oil to his duster, looking out over the river that sat not ten meters from the table they’d borrowed from the leather trader.
And directly at the pleasure wheeler, as Gwen had called it.
Even from where they were sitting, there was a lot to take in.
On the docks were healthy and fit men and women running simple games of chance or skill, most of whom were a bit scantily clad, considering the cool evening air.
That was, he was pretty sure, part of the appeal.
The entire thing had a bit of a festival feeling to it. At least, the parts constrained to the dock itself. From some of the snippets he’d overheard, it was considerably more involved on the pleasure wheeler itself.
Gambling, intimate dancing - both with your own partners and those who could be rented by the hour - and strictly controlled ‘mind-powders’.
Before the trip that would see him leaving Earth behind forever, Jed had visited a Casino with his friends exactly once. He’d lost the entire hundred dollars he’d gone in with, putting all the money he’d slowly racked up at the blackjack table on a single roll of the roulette wheel.
He’d figured it was worth the looks on his friends’ faces when he’d done it. Then the little ball had bounced about his spot, all but settling on his red twenty-three, only to, at the very last second, land on the black ten instead.
Had proven to be a lot more exciting than Jed had expected. And if that ball had landed different, and he’d walked out with all that extra money, maybe he wouldn’t have shared that plane charter.
Lot of little things had added up to getting him to Tersue Reng, he realized as he smiled at his partner across from him as she spoke to the seemingly empty air, bickering with the best friend he’d had between two worlds.
He was glad for it all, even on the run from the Empire as they were. If he was being entirely honest with himself, that part was good too. Mostly. He wouldn’t have minded getting in one last meal at the Down ‘n Dirty before they left town.
His eyes shifted to the stalls along the dock, some of which were selling food. Fifteen minutes and absolutely no haggling later, Jed returned with a meal fit for a very hungry man, his partner and the arch-angel bound inside his gun.
After eating, Gwen informed him they needed to let their dusters air for at least an hour.
So Jed set off amongst the stands again to search out details about booking passage aboard the pleasure wheeler. It turned out to be easy, with one of the vendors directing him to a man near the gangplank.
Even the gangplank had been worked into an article of spectacle, the sides made of finely wrought gold, in patterns of flowers he didn’t recognize, the plank a black that drank the light.
That said, the gangplank was nothing compared to the man.
With the most outrageous mustache Jed had ever seen outside of TV, the short round man had a presence to him beyond his voice, and the finely woven fabric that was fitted perfectly to his figure. The roundness was so even that Jed suspected a degree of warp-demon mutation. Three feet wide and three tall, it was hard to imagine otherwise. That or the clothes were impeccably crafted to emphasize it.
“Ah, good evening good fellow,” the man said when Jed approached.
“A very good evening,” Jed agreed, looking out over the gathered crowd. “Of which, I’d say you and yours have played no small part.”
“Oh ho, generous words, good fellow,” the man said, tapping the wooden planks of the dock with a cane Jed hadn’t noticed on his approach. It was black with golden accents, and had the name of the ship worked into its length. “We do what we can to bring a bit of light into the dark, leaving the world better than we found it.”
“Best anyone can hope for,” Jed said, gaze moving upwards to look at the Eye. He hoped those repairs were going as intended, bringing the ancient station back to its peak.
“Even on the darkest nights, in the most dangerous of lands, the shield of the Architects protects us from the wrath of Her gaze,” the man said, having followed Jed’s own gaze. When Jed looked back at him, eyebrow raised, the man gave him a half-smile. “A bit dated, I know, but I have ever been a lover of the classics.”
“I’m afraid I’ve failed to introduce myself,” Jed said, offering the man his hand. “I’m Jed.”
The man hesitated for half a second before reaching out and accepting. “Jate F. Batholomew, though folks mostly call me Big Round.”
“On account of the accent, no doubt,” Jed said, chuckling as they shook once.
“Quite so, my good fellow, quite so,” Jate replied, offering another half-smile. “So, Jed, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this good evening? I noted some purpose in your steps when first you approached, though we have strayed from such.”
“Ah. I wanted to find out about booking passage,” Jed said, gesturing to the Queen’s Gambit just behind them. “If you’re heading downriver, that is.”
“Always downriver. The Queen is a ring ship, true as true can be,” Jate said, smiling as he waved his cane in the ship’s direction. “And as for fare… you seem more capable than many. A hunter by trade, if I’m not mistaken?”
Jed looked down at his clothes, which had mostly dried. None of it looked especially hunter-esque to him, not with the broken goggles long lost, the duster airing on the table, and even his rifle and Mythlyn’s revolver left behind. “What gave it away?”
“A hunter doesn’t walk the same way as the rest of us,” Jate said, shaking his cane at Jed. “It’s in the name, I’ve always said. You’re meant to hunt.”
“That’s a surprise,” Jed said, shaking his head. “I haven’t been at it that long.”
“Hmm. Suppose that means you’re suited to it then,” Jate said, nodding as he looked Jed up and down once more. “Now, as for your fare. How does one red rimmed black per hex sound, with the understanding that any demon you kill will have a bounty. And if you manage to bring back the body, and we’re able to throw it in the kiln… well, RDR adds up. I’m sure we can decide on fair rates.”
“That sounds… like I should probably get my partner involved, since she handles the money,” Jed admitted, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the leather trader. “I was mostly just curious about the ship and she was busy, so…”
“Ah, so two hunters?” Jate asked, stroking the end of his long thin mustache between two fingers. “Well, the rate remains the same, though I’m afraid the bounty would be split as well.”
“I’m sure we can figure out something everyone finds fair,” Jed said, nodding to the large man. “Though I think we’ll be looking to book passage for at least one hex.”
“Very good, my good fellow,” Jate said, bobbing his head slightly as another pair of people approached. “Now if you will excuse me, it seems there are others who have need of me.”
“Of course,” Jed said, stepping out of the way and making his way back to Gwen.
Around him, the festival like mood continued unabated.
He hoped the rate wasn’t too expensive. He was quite looking forward to traveling by pleasure wheeler.