Chapter 2

Having left and reentered the room, customs dictate that Lucas must recite his greeting. This time, he dares to do so with sighing and contempt. “My most humble greetings to the—”

“Your request is granted. A contract just became available.” The woman in the center of the five rises from her seat and motions for the woman - she who handed her the paper currently in-hand - to follow. “I will brief you on the details and you will be on your way. The rest of you, get to thinking.” Her last sentence is addressed to the other four members of the panel.

Lucas watches as the two of them step out from behind the half-wall to his left. In that direction is a door not unlike the exit on his right. The older woman, whom Lucas can now see is quite short, opens the door. Inside is a smaller room with a table in its center upon which lies a stack of parchment paper and a small glass cup of ink with a quill resting in it. The younger woman enters as Lucas remains standing on the carpet.

“Do I even want to do this?” Evidently, the hesitation laden in his thoughts shows on his face as the woman still holding the door sweeps her arm to beckon him forth with urgency.

“You wanted a job, now you’ve got one. But time is of the essence, Mr. Grey.”

He walks forward and enters the room, with the door shutting behind him. Now that he is in the room, the area is smaller than it looked from the outside. The walls to the left and right - which are seven feet apart - are longer than the wall across from him as he faces away from the door. In the center of the room is a rectangular wooden table with the same proportions at the room. The ceiling is significantly lower, a few inches higher than Lucas’s six-foot-height. He feels the need to lower his upper body, but finds that he fits when standing up straight. On the right wall and across the room is another door, likely the intended exit.

Knowing that he will need to be mentally sharp for the next few minutes, Lucas takes it upon himself to absorb the appearance of the person newest to him in this room. He glances at the woman who bore the message. Her hair is short and dirty-blonde, eyes hazel. A loose guess gives her an age of twenty one. She is a few inches shorter than him but at least half a foot taller than the older woman who takes a seat next to her on the other side of the table. This is the only seat in the room.

She removes the quill from the ink cup, swipes a sheet of parchment from the stack, and begins to write. At the same time, she addresses Lucas. “You will address me as Eleanor. Wren, introduce yourself.”

Lucas looks up from the paper and Eleanor’s writing hand to see the younger woman approach him from across the table. She extends her hand, which Lucas reaches out to shake. As she speaks, he notices light freckles on the bridge of her nose.

“Wren Atkinson.”

“Lucas Grey.”

In one motion, Wren steps back and tilts her upper body forward, a small bow. Eleanor happens to see this out of the corner of her eye.

“Do not bow to commoners. We talked about that.”

“Yes, of course.” She steps back behind Eleanor and looks over her shoulder to peer at her writing. Lucas attempts to do the same from across the table. The quill moves quickly and without leaving the page except to end a sentence or retrieve more ink. When the writing is finished, Wren hands Eleanor the stamped paper with which she walked into the audience chamber. This is rolled out onto the table, placed beneath the newly written paper, and both folded at the upper left corner.

Eleanor’s next movements surprise Lucas, what with her frail looking arms and hands. She removes a stamper from a drawer in the table and swiftly brings it down onto the paper. Then, she places the quill into the ink cup and pushes it across the table. It slides to Lucas with some speed and he stops it before it leaps off of the table. While concentrating on the ink and quill, Eleanor hands the papers to Wren who walks up to Lucas and places them in front of him on the table.

“Sign both documents. Feel free to read them, though they contain nothing that I’m not about to tell you.” Eleanor’s tone of speaking is matter of fact and paced to keep things moving efficiently, with no room for response from Lucas. The sense of prim, slow control from before has left her voice. From this, he can tell that this matter troubles her, that the thought of having to do what she is doing now never crossed her mind. Her quick speech is a way of ignoring the context of the situation, context yet unknown to Lucas.

He lifts the first page to look at the letter beneath. He doesn’t need sharp eyes to tell that it was written in haste. The message is short enough that he can read the entirety if he signs his name slowly.

“To the Royal Court,

The thief has evaded capture. Evidence would suggest that he has also killed agent Dalton. Last seen in Agios dragging Dalton’s body into the ruins. The target currently travels alone. Horse: brown coat, black mane and tail, brass shoes, scar on right front leg, black leather saddle.

Thomas Walker, moving to rally point γ and awaiting orders.”

At the end of the communication, next to the writer’s signature, is an ink stamp of the coat of arms. Lucas removes the quill from the ink cup, taps the tip upon the edge, and scribbles his name on the bottom in a mix of cursive and print as he reads. He moves on to the newly written contract.

“It is the Royal Court’s decision, on the third day of the fifth month in the three hundredth year, to appoint a bounty hunter for the task of apprehending Homer Smith and returning him alive to stand trial for theft. On this commission, there is no time constraint. The reward for fulfilling this commission shall be 10,000 drachma.

Under the authority of: “Eleanor”

Recipient:_______________”

Eleanor’s signature, simply “Eleanor” in quotes, is written beneath the body of the contract. He makes note of the implication that this is not her true name and puts that aside in his mind to think about later. Beneath this, Lucas writes his name in the same style as on the paper beneath the contract.

As he slides the papers to his right towards Wren, Lucas addresses Eleanor. “Do you think we could negotiate a higher reward?”

“The reward can be negotiated after your return if you succeed. Now, allow me to brief you on the context surrounding this job.” As she speaks, Eleanor takes the papers from Wren, rolls them up, and places them into the drawer. Lucas leans forward, hands on the table, and listens. “Nearly an hour ago, a man named Homer Smith, likely through the aid of one of our guards, managed to steal rare goods from within the royal palace. We caught wind of this ten minutes after the fact and sent an agent, Russel Dalton, to retrieve the goods and arrest Mr. Smith. Mr. Dalton did not return as quickly as expected, so a scout was sent after him to assess the situation. The first paper you signed is that scout’s message, sent by raven and likely written around ten minutes ago.

“Evidently, Mr. Smith is armed and dangerous, but all of our combative agents are occupied with current work. Not only do your feats qualify you to perform this task over some of our own personnel, you are also the most available solution to the problem. To contact anyone else would waste precious time; Mr. Smith flees the country as we speak. As the contract states, you are permitted to use lethal force so long as his body or ample proof of his death is presented. If you have no questions, I will inform you of your conduct guidelines.”

Her pause is short, but enough for Lucas to think about asking what exactly Homer made off with from the palace. Before he can get the words out of his mouth, she continues.

“In order to keep track of your progress and to remain updated on the situation, I am dispatching Wren to accompany you.” At the sound of her name, Wren raises a brow but remains silent. “She is authorized to write communications to the Court. You are not. The Court will be notified of any developments by messenger raven. Further, the goods in Mr. Smith’s possession are highly confidential. When you apprehend or otherwise thwart his escape, Wren will be the one to retrieve said goods.”

She pauses to open another drawer. During this pause, Lucas has no questions as the possibility of knowing what was stolen is blocked by confidentiality. Eleanor removes something from the drawer, places it on the table, and slides it towards Lucas. As it approaches, he can see that it is a brass molding of the royal crest. Etched into it is the flag of the city of Patras wrapped around the mane of a lion baring its fangs. A wreath rises on the left and right with words on the leaves to display the kingdom’s motto: “Loyalty yields providence, providence yields glory.” Lucas chuckles as he looks over the trinket.

“That should allow you to search private property.”

Lucas places a few fingers on the crest and pushes it away a short distance as he shakes his head. “I’m not carrying this.”

By the look on Eleanor’s face, it can be inferred that this reaction is unexpected. A short moment of pause follows before she responds. “You cannot act as a bounty hunter for the Crown without bearing the crest.”

Three words reverberate in Lucas’s head as they come out of Eleanor’s mouth: “for the Crown”. He crosses his arms to think, looking down at that lion and the words inscribed around it. “Loyalty, providence, glory”.

“Then you can rip up the contract.” Lucas lets his arms down and puts his hands in his pockets. “I’m not your bounty hunter.” He turns to leave and manages to put his hand on the handle of the door before Eleanor’s words stop him in his tracks.

“Thirty thousand drachma.” At first, the words leap out of her in contrast to her physical composure. After seeing Lucas stop, her voice regains its serenity. “In coinage or bonds. Consider it done, Mr. Grey.”

Lucas stares into the gilded door handle, his distorted reflection staring back at him from between his fingers. Anger flares up inside of him. He tightens his grip and narrows his gaze. The situation is infuriating. “Like I’m a dog? A dog she can dangle bait in front of, telling me I can have it if I just wear her collar. I could walk out right now.” He takes a deep breath and loosens his grip. Slowly, he turns around and approaches the table. “I am no dog. I acknowledge no leash.”

“I’m doing this for myself, not for your Crown. Wren carries the crest, I catch Homer.” As he negotiates, Lucas struggles to keep his anger beneath the surface. His expression remains calm and above petty emotion.

Eleanor leans back in her seat and takes a subtle breath. Lucas’s eye sees through her facade and recognizes her relief. “Wren carries the crest.” She echoes his words. “You catch Mr. Smith.”