It must be the mark. Something special about him. Something... No. Just some chump with a debt to his client, a burly, self-important man called Jonathan.

Something about this place? It looks so much like any other. Just a pocket of crumbling buildings and people tucked into the space of the rusty barrens. And all places seem haunted. But this - this had never happened before.

Rician didn't much care for Jonathan. The redhead was loud, demanding, and manipulative. Somehow he always had exactly what he needed to pay for something, in a world without money or much of anything else, and he drifted in and out of every village in the land requesting and getting whatever favors he needed for his mysterious purposes. He seemed to think he was somehow in charge. And Rician hated working for him.

He tore the posts from a rotten fence and forced them into a sled of sorts. Then he used the mark's pantsleg to give him a chord to pull, rested the corpse across his device, and began the long walk ahead.

He owed Jonathan a visit. He paid for the body, after all - he should have it.

back  home