PROLOGUE

Damned bandits!

Yao clutched his precious parcel closer to his chest as he darted over the dry, loose ground, stone skittering under his feet. He paused behind a tall, craggy rock, panting for breath and wiping sweat from his forehead. The sun beat down from above, providing no mercy even in a situation as he found himself in. His chest heaved as he swallowed down air and his dark eyes narrowed.

He'd been on route to the great city of Dorado for a customary delivery. He was only a short distance from the gates leading into it when the bandits had come out of nowhere.

They'd shot his horse, leaving him to dash away out of fear for being killed himself. His weapon had been trapped under the beast's body (he felt a touch of regret even now for the poor creature's fate), leaving him without a means to defend himself.

He whispered feverishly under his breath, a sort-of prayer for protection. Maybe he could make a break for the gates. No other choice, really—he heard the bandits' horses approaching, their loud voices ringing in the air. Words that were half addressed to him, half addressed to one another. Strong and wheedling, threatening. There was no doubt that they intended to see him dead, intended to see his body looted of everything valuable he had on his person.

"Damn," Yao hissed as he burst out from behind the rock. Bullets pattered after him, aggressive whoops rising up from the bandits. They figured that they had him on the run. And, they did. He hadn't a chance at all from this distance, not when he was trying to protect the package he was obligated to deliver.

There was something in Yao that refused to let him go back on something like his work. He was a proud, stubborn, and unyielding one. To make him yield, well, that took something very strong indeed.

He had received this order in question via messenger bird (a surprising thing, as normally his services were sent for by mail). It conveyed to him the urgency of this particular order, written in a sloppy hand he could only guess was rushed out of panic. It was life or death, the letter had said. What they had asked for told him this full well. So he had made the necessary arrangements, retrieved the needed item in question, and fixed himself up for the long journey. It had been a while since he left Ganmu.

But, this… He couldn't believe this had to happen now, at all times, when he was right in the middle of a job! How could he give up now, leaving whomever had addressed the letter to him (it had been so scrawled he couldn't even make out the letters) to spend forever waiting? No! Yao refused to die here, in the wastes! What a pitiable death that would be, when—

There was a shot and then a 'thud' behind him. He paused, looking swiftly over one shoulder, past the barrier of rock he'd found himself behind. One of the bandits was still and unmoving on the ground, his horse racing away. His companions had frozen, looking around frantically for the culprit who had taken down one of their own.

Another gunshot, and a bandit went spinning backwards, shoulder spurting blood, cry wrenched from his throat. Yao scanned the dusty, rocky landscape and it didn't take him long to find it. A metallic glint higher up, amongst a pile of stones. Nearly invisible except to the practiced eye—such as Yao's.

The gun barrel jerked slightly and the remaining bandit went tumbling off his horse with a pained howl, leg oozing viscous blood, the dry ground absorbing it greedily.

"Good shot!"

Up in the pile of rocks, a young man with pale hair stood up slowly. He pulled up his tinted goggles, blinking against the sun's light and shouldering his rifle as the dry wind tugged and pulled at his hair. The voice that had called to him came from a tall, wild-haired man slipping out soundlessly from behind a twisted, sand-worn pillar of rock.

"Ah," Yao began. The blond man came skidding down the slope, sending dust flying up everywhere. A soft 'oof' but at last he straightened himself, looked over at Yao with curiosity. Clearly, the merchant wasn't their target, but nevertheless he was tense and on guard, his heart hammering fiercely in his chest. "Tha—"

"Are you hurt?" the blond man asked, kindly.

"No. Thank you." Sure, Yao had scrapes and bruises, but those were minor. He slowly let himself ease, though he didn't let his eyes stray far from the two strangers before him, taking them in. They were garbed as wanderers were wont to be; practicality rather than fashion, and streaked with a liberal amount of dirt and grime. Somehow, Yao thought it didn't quite suit the wavy-haired young man with the rather kind eyes.

"Sure." The blond man smiled at him, apparently reassured with that. He pulled a set of glasses from his dusty coat and set them on his nose, looking through them narrowly, taking in Yao's features. The merchant took this time to dust himself off slowly, knowing full well what the young man would be seeing; a short, slim and dark man, colourful sashes the merchants so often favoured (though why, Yao couldn't say) around his middle, and over a shoulder.

"Matthew! Come and help me tie them up, will you? They keep moving around; it's annoying."

"Oh! Coming!" Attention taken away from Yao at last, 'Matthew' jogged over to his companion, who was tying up the surviving bandits with a long cord of rope. Pulling tight and earning pained, breathless gasps from the bandits in question.

Yao watched them, tilting his head slowly, biting back a frown. "Bounty hunters?" he asked.

"You're still here?" asked the taller man with the wild hair incredulously. He looked at Yao with more interest than before, as though he'd expected him to dash away the moment the two of them had shown themselves properly. "Yeah, we're bounty hunters. Why?"

"I'll repay you," Yao said simply, drawing himself up with all the authority that he could muster. "You saved my life." That was something he could appreciate; much as it rankled at his pride to admit. In days past, he'd be off saving lives and—no, no, his life was the simple one now.

He chalked it up to old age beginning to worm its way in.

"Oh, no," began the blond man, lifting his hands as though about to vehemently insist otherwise.

"We were just hunting the guys," said the other in reluctant agreement. It wasn't in a bounty hunter's nature to turn down payment, of any kind. They eked out a living doing the dangerous work that few others would do, living each day as a day that they could end up dead in one way or another. That the wavy-haired young man had refused was surprising to Yao. "We just happened to save you in the process." He finished tying up the two criminals, each moaning over their respective injury.

'At least you're not dead, like your friend,' Yao thought, his eyes falling on the two men. Then he looked at the two bounty hunters in question, swallowing back any further, real feelings. Of the pride that slammed at him not to offer to pay them in any way, but it was that same pride that told him to do so. "I realise that. Nevertheless, I would've died if you hadn't have come along." Or so he'd say. "I'll repay you as soon as I make my delivery." He gazed at them steadily.

"If you insist…" Matthew said reluctantly.

"Yes." A moment later, Yao added with more truth in it, "I hate to have debts." He hated to owe people, didn't even like to be owed. It made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

"Well, then," said the tall man, "nice to meet you." He was much more cordial all of a sudden (maybe at the promise of a reward?), flashing an easy grin. "I'm Lars, and this is Matthew. Bounty hunters—the best this side of Heldere."

"Wang Yao. Just Yao will do," replied the slim, dark-haired man. "From Ganmu—I'm a merchant."

END PROLOGUE

Glossary
Heldere: a dry, rocky country bound on one side by the Leiss Mountains and the Pranm Ocean on the other.
Dorado: the "golden" city, capital of Heldere.
Ganmu: a merchant town of Heldere.

Characters
Wang Yao – China
Lars – the Netherlands
Matthew – Canada