Chapter 1
Erron Black's Day Off

Erron Black looked at the shoddy tavern in the Outworld marketplace with an unimpressed countenance. It had been some time since the Outworld mercenary had a decent drink, most of the time he was successful in quelling that persistent vice with what Outworld had to offer. Lately however, nothing Outworld currently seemed to help quench his thirst. It wasn't that he was unable to get drunk, on the contrary, he had gotten drunk several times in the past few months trying to get rid of his random dissatisfaction as of late. Whether it was his discontent palate for something different, or just wanted to indulge in something nostalgic, it was enough to pull him towards the building that day and debate whether he should go in or not.

He had overheard from a few commoners gossiping in secret by the docks that this was the only establishment in Z'unkahrah that had any Earthrealm beverages. Served under the table and away from the eyes of Outworld officials that clearly knew it was contraband in the realm. Being so, the gunslinger decided to use his only day off to see if the rumors were true, if not he could always keep asking around.

He had all day to kill.

He gave the building a critical once-over and couldn't help but frown.

If they didn't have what he was a looking for, at least he didn't have to hang around such a dump.

Perhaps the tavern had once been presentable when it was properly taken care of but now it seemed underwhelming and misplaced in the marketplace; downtrodden and carelessly unmanaged unlike the proletariat shops around him. The building had cracks running up the sides, and the wood on the window shutters and the main door needed immediate replacing and repainting. It didn't even have a name, with the only thing that hung as a decoration was a lamp on the outside. Besides being destitute and bare, the establishment was entirely unremarkable.

However, despite looking abandoned, it wasn't.

Black's eyes landed on the door when it swung open, and a pair of Outworld patrons came out in high spirits until they saw who stood outside. They frowned when they saw him and shuffled away as fast and as discreetly as they could. The ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of the hired gun's mouth, pleased that his reputation preceded him even when he wasn't on duty.

Unbeknownst as to why to him, the distraction seemed adequate in helping him make up his mind. With a small adjustment of his hat with the touch of his fingers, he approached the door.

Immediately, his eyes met darkness as he passed into the tavern and blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes to the graving disparity in lighting. In fact, the only things bringing light into the establishment were the candle chandeliers that hung over the empty tables and the open window letting the desert mid-afternoon sun inside.

A simple wooden bar stood at the back of the room with the only other occupant in the tavern. She looked up from what she was reading and gave a customary smile before she saw who it was. Her smiled faded, and a stern and worried expression came across her face as she straightened up. Just like the patrons she probably knew he was one of the Emperor's enforcers. Although her demeanor seemed more guarded than alarmed; as if she had done something that would have called his attention here that didn't involve drinking.

The ex-Earthrealmer cast an impartial visage as he waited for her to exit her timid stupor and welcome him to the establishment. Or did he have to stand around all day until she made up her mind? The impatient gunslinger was about to ask before she seemed to be aware of the abiding awkward silence between the both of them that had formed and shifted her demeanor into one that tried it's best to pretend, he was someone other than Erron Black; albeit, not very connivingly

A painfully fake smile and gestured to the tables with a quick nod. "You may take any table you want."

Black didn't reply and took the table closest to the door and dragged the wooden chair across the floor, causing it to groan against the wood before he sat down. He saw her eyebrows bridge together in irritation at the grating sound before she grabbed a wooden cup and pitcher from beneath the bar and walked to the table.

The mercenary couldn't help but notice that she was pouring water into the cup as subtlety far as she could without being near him but still close enough to give him the drink. She clearly uncomfortable with him being there, and with the rumors that this was the only place he could purchase something illegal, it wasn't difficult to know what she was trying to hide.

He removed his hat and placed it on the table to unclasp the face mask all the while studying her. It did not take him long to see that she was an Earthrealmer. When he arrived in Outworld, he was somewhat surprised how he wasn't he only one that had made a pilgrimage. Most motivations were to escape jail time, or the wrong people and he learned how to tell the difference quickly. Most native Outworlders had Asiatic features and she clearly did not. She was fair skinned despite a light tan that darkened her. He guessed American or European based on the wavy dark brown hair that sat messily in a bun at the back of her hair. She had no discernable accent that pointed to a country of origin, and oddly enough seem to speak with the same inflection as most Outworlders he had come across.

The bartender had caught his stare for a moment before she averted her green eyes quickly as if trying not to offend him. He also noticed that very much like the tavern her clothes didn't belong in the somewhat richer area of the marketplace they were in.

She wore a faded blue dress with gray sleeves and a black scarf that was as tattered and worn as the black cloth belt that went around her waist. Despite the bulkiness of the clothes, her cheekbones seemed unnaturally hollow from what he assumed about the place, because they had no money to really at. It made her look frail and bony and not something he particularly chased after. However, the only saving grace he could give her credit was her face was decent enough, but the sour expression she had took away everything pleasant about it.

She must have been annoyed with him staring at her because when she set the cup down the fake pleasantness was gone. "What can I get for you?" she asked, filling the mute void of the cantina with a lifeless tone.

"I take it you have food and drink," Erron asked, his tone dry and rhetorical.

"Yes, we do," the bartender answered as she looked at his hat sitting on the table. He heard her mumble 'typically' under her breath before she looked back at him as if waiting for him to continue.

"From Earthrealm…" he clarified with a pointed diction.

"Who said we had anything from Earthrealm?" she countered, raising her eyebrow at him in a challenging manner that he didn't particularly like. The gunslinger gave her a dubious look and shook his head; she was easier to read than a book.

"Just get it," he commanded.

She blinked and after a few moments of internal argument, she sighed in defeat. There was no point in arguing what was already blatantly obvious to the both; he would not be here if they didn't serve it and wouldn't bother asking if he already knew for certain.

"As you wish," the bartender replied dejectedly. He ignored her, satisfied and turned his attention to the wall as she walked back to the bar and poured him another glass.

She kept her eyes on the cup as she asked him stoically: "Would you like anything to eat?"

Black offered her a mere nod when she sauntered over and placed the cup in front of him. She said nothing, her thoughts elsewhere as she walked to the back and disappeared through the doors that, he assumed, led to a kitchen adjacent to the bar.

He took the cup and drank but found that wasn't what he had requested. He swirled the familiar swill of Outworld wine in his mouth for a moment before he glowered and spit the wine back into the cup.

The bartender came back out with a plate of bread, and he held up the glass of wine she gave him and narrowed his eyes deliberately in her direction, letting her know his displeasure. He noticed that she hardly had a reaction to his expression, as if she had somewhat expected this and that made him grip the glass a little harder.

"I said Earthrealm," he said, his tone unfriendly as he held up the glass she gave him.

"And I told you: who said we have any of that here?" she chimed back with a calm tone that bordered on almost arrogant; he did not like it.

"I don't really give a shit that you have smuggled goods," Black snapped back, causing her reticent demeanor to diminish a little. "Just give me what I want before I reconsider making it my business."

The girl's eyes narrowed at him, a look of angered disappointment flaming in them before she set the plate of food down and walked back to the bar. He faintly heard her exhale through her nose like an ill-tempered bull as she opted to burn a hole in the wall behind him instead of meeting his gaze before she pulled out something he recognized. The female server walked over and placed the unopened bottle of whiskey in front of him accompanied with a clean glass.

"Would you like to be pay for the bottle or for the glass?" she asked, her green eyes still fixed on the wall behind him. He disliked her subtle sarcasm and with a silent glower slid the bottle in front of him as if the glass didn't exist.

"Would you like anything else?" the girl asked, her green eyes meeting his with the same look of discontent. He opened the bottle and said nothing; silently conveying to her he had all he needed.

The bartender huffed and walked back to the bar; he heard her say something under her breath, but he didn't catch it and elected for rolling his eyes as he took a swig of the whiskey. It burned pleasantly down his throat, and he felt himself relax as the warmth from the liquor engulfed him; finally able to scratch the itch. He placed his leg and rested it on the chair across from him and leaned back into the chair while she returned to whatever she was reading.

After a couple of minutes an older man in his early 60's, also fair-skinned and with similar features to the bartender, came out and asked if he needed anything else which Black declined. He retreated with a conservative smile and went to the back, leaving Black and bartender alone once again.

For the next hour, he kept to himself and so did the bartender. She had retreated to the back for a little bit but came back to wipe down the counter before she picked up her old book and started to read again. He could feel her staring at him every once in a while, and every time he acknowledged it she forced her eyes back to the pages; pretending as if he wasn't there. Other than that, she read in silence and quietly ate a piece of fruit she had brought out for herself.

He had made decent headway into the bottle and half the loaf of bread that was far too sweet for his liking but ate it before he looked at her and decided to fill the lull. He was bored and in no condition to move until the bread settled and soaked up the alcohol that was making him tipsier than he had intentionally wanted.

"You're from Earthrealm I take it," he began, his tone a matter of fact.

The bartender looked up from what she was reading, her brows furrowed as if unsure whether his question meant to be insulting. "I was born in Outworld."

He looked at her indecisively at first but then shrugged his shoulders; accepting her simple reply as the truth; he didn't see any reason she should lie to him.

"So, your father is from Earthrealm, then. That's why you are smuggling whiskey when no one else is?" He said motioning to the kitchen where the old man presumably was. He noticed she didn't like his inquiry and fixed her attention back to her book with a frown; trying her best to ignore him.

"You always so obvious or do you just not like the subject?" the mercenary questioned curtly.

"Are you always this rude or is it the drink?" she fired back without thinking. She faltered slightly when he shot her an angered frown at her snippy comeback.

Black's eyes narrowed in her direction. "I'd learn to be more careful. I'm not always such a nice guy."

She looked at him with an astute gleam in her eyes, "I am very well aware."

"You sure you wanna wager on that?" he drawled, his tone ominous as he tilted his head in her direction, his eyes as sharp and cautionary as a viper's.

The bartender shook her head at him with a false stoic expression gracing her face, "Like I have said before: I'm aware and do not need to wager."

"And how is it you are so well aware?" Black questioned, mildly curious.

She scoffed lightly and responded: "You would be surprised what you hear from drunken chatter."

Black raised an incredulous eyebrow, "And you believe everything you hear?"

She gave a small shrug, "No."

She suddenly gave him a quizzical look, as if trying to piece together his sudden need to engage in awkward small talk with her. Erron saw her eyes land on the bottle before she lifted the corner of her mouth in a knowing grimace; as if she understood he was either drunk or tipsy.

"Are you finished with your drink?" she asked, looking at the bottle of whiskey and nodding at it.

He flashed a barbed stare, "Do I look finished?" he shot back, his eyebrows lifted in exasperation as he unscrewed the cap.

He took a mild swig from the bottle, not even bothering with pouring anything in his glass as if it was a passive display of defiance. The girl sighed ardently through her nose before her face scrunched with a contemplative look.

With a melancholy and worried smile on her face. She waited for him to place the bottle back on the table before she asked: "Are you going to arrest us?" It was a serious question, and she was clearly tense about what his answer would be.

He gave her blank stare and thought it over; searching for a reply in his buzzed state. He didn't see the need to arrest them, besides it wasn't really his job dealing with things that were tedious and small. He left that to the People's Court. Besides, it was below his pay-grade and there was something to gain for keeping them around. He hadn't realized how much he missed the taste of good whiskey and hadn't realized how much until it touched his lips. Also, since Earthrealm liquor, like many things from his forgotten realm, was embargo from entering Outworld. However, shipping and exporting were left to other officials. So, unless the Kahn paid him to do something about, he supposed they could carry on.

"It's my day off," was his simple answer, his tone indifferent; as if the answer was meant to be obvious to her. She nodded lightly, but he could tell it was also a sigh of relief on her part.

Both of their eyes suddenly shot to the door as three men walked into the bar. Outworlders, and from what Black could tell, they were related were firmly not pleased.

The female stiffened noticeably when their gaze locked on to her approached the bar. If they noticed him, they didn't acknowledge it. Black watched from his chair with mild curiosity; they clearly weren't here for the food.

The bald leader of the three leaned over at the bar, "Where is it?" he demanded through his teeth.

The gunslinger saw her swallow the lump in her throat but before she could answer, as if on cue, the older man from before sauntered out with a bag of coins in his outstretched hand. The three men turned their attention towards him like hungry dogs.

"Hello Rhen," the old man greeted, his smile faltering a little when they advanced on him, their dispositions growing increasingly darker with each passing second.

The old man shrunk under their silent rancor. "I'm afraid I must ask for an extension. Business has been slow here."

"You have abused your extensions," Rhen snarled acrimoniously, "it's either the entire amount due or one of your legs. He was very clear."

Erron watched the exchange with as much enthusiasm as if he was a forced bibliophile condemned to read the same humdrum story over and over. He had seen this a hundred times before, in both Outworld and Earthrealm, and had little sympathy for the current rendition he was witness to currently. The only thing that was an addition to watching the same teleplay, was they Black noticed the servant girl had come from behind the bar, the small presence of a wooden handle sticking out from the side of her waist while the rest of the knife concealed by the fabric. The hardened mercenary doubted she intended to use it and saw it as a reassurance to herself; something to hold on to for comfort. Black could tell from her uneasy expression that the knife would offer little aid deterring the thug's mind if she needed to use it. Having it certainly wasn't helping the conversation…

"The majority is all there I'm just short by—"

The old man didn't get the chance to finish when Rhen grabbed him by his ear, nearly ripping it off, and pulled him forward with a cry of pain from the old man.

"Just the ankle then," Rhen suggested with wicked malice.

"That is enough!"

The three men turned their attention toward her as she reached for her scarf hastily and fumbled to unhook the gold chain that was hiding under the layers of her clothing. On the string was a dark red stone set in a circle of gold. "Use this as collateral until you get your money."

"We don't want collateral—"

"Then take it as payment for what's owed," she cut off with a stern assertiveness. "You're not getting a coin more today." The bartender kept her eyes locked on the goon with resolute steadiness, although Black could see it as nothing but a masquerade of false bravado.

Stubborn and stupid, was the only thing he could conjure up about her as he took another drink of the whiskey and continued to observe the drama.

Rhen looked at her, unsure whether he wanted to take it or hit her. After a moment, he walked closer to her, snatched the necklace and looked it over. He seemed pleased with the value the trinket offered upon closer inspection—it was probably worth more than what was due. He looked back at her and grabbed her chin with his other hand, his fingers digging harshly into her face as she cringed at the touch and pulled her closer to him. Black saw her ball her fists in anger but left her arms hanging as limply like a toy doll by her side. She glared back at Rhen as if she wasn't intimidated by it; as if it wasn't the first time this type of contact had happened before.

Rhen shot her with a cruel smirk, "For your father's sake hopefully you don't run out of jewelry…"

She glared at him before he let go of her face with a light shove and stalked out of the bar with the necklace. The other one followed behind while the smallest of the three lingered with an apologetic expression on his face.

"I'll see if I can grab more—"

"I don't want your charity. Get out," the bartender interrupted harshly, her head motioning to the door. He simply nodded meekly and hung his head as he exited. A small apathetic smile tugged at the corner of Erron's mouth before placing his lips on the bottle once more.

The old man rubbed his ear and looked at her with disapproval and without even thanking her left to the back and slammed a door. Black saw her frown and shake her head; as if annoyed she didn't receive any semblance of gratitude from her father.

"You shoulda ' have let them take the leg," he jested dryly, nodding his head in the direction of the back room.

The bartender snapped her head in his direction and looked as if she was having a difficult time biting her tongue at something she might regret saying. She huffed and turned away from him and reached for a cloth that sat on the bar.

She wiped the counter with aggressiveness one wouldn't usually use as the cowboy watched her from his chair, a humored gleam in his eye when he noticed how heated she was. He noticed she winced at something and with a frustrated look on her face, grabbed the rusty knife that was hiding in the cloth around her waist and threw it on the counter loudly. He rolled his eyes.

"Friends?" Erron asked with mock interest. She looked up at him, confused for a moment before she shook her head.

"Landlords," she explained with a scowl.

A small 'hmph' was all he said in response.

A moment of silence returned to the tavern once again that was suited fine for him. Black glanced out the window and saw the sun start to make its descent towards the horizon, he figured he should start heading back for his room at the palace. He looked at the bottle and was disappointed he would not have very much left to take with him back to his room. As he stared at the bottle, the longing to savor more alcohol still present, he felt an idea form its way into his head. Black wasn't sure if it was his own thoughts concocting plans or if it was the booze, but nevertheless he thought it was a good idea. Erron took one last sip and placed the cap back on the bottle before he clasped his face mask on and grabbed his hat.

"How many customers do you get looking for Earthrealm whiskey?" He looked at the tavern with a dispassionate grimace, "I assume it's not many.

She stopped attacking the counter to meet him with a pestered look, "Is that really any business of yours?"

"It's your business if you wanna get paid," he answered, his tone serious yet sprinkled with humor.

Her eyebrows came together in confusion at his remark, but the grisly glint remained evident in her eyes. He stood up, taking the bottle with him and leaving the bread behind and adjusted his hat on his head.

"There are servant entrances at the south end of the palace. The guard will know you'll be coming by at dusk with a delivery. You'll give 'em to the head of the kitchen and then I'll get it. I want 'em at the end of every week."

She looked at him as if he had fungus growing out his face.

The bounty hunter placed a couple of coins on the table before he turned towards the door and casted her with a stern countenance before he exited. "You don't wanna have me come back here."

He left without another word and left her looking at the door with a very bewildered and grim look on her face.