Page 37 of Tusks & Saddles

Chapter Ten

Beatrix

W elborn was punctual.

Beatrix could give him that much as she descended the stairs.

The cleric was seated at a table nearest to the bar.

He looked exhausted, something Beatrix wrote off as his nerves.

While she suspected he was more capable than his demeanor let on, Welborn was still a sheltered holy man in Beatrix’s eyes.

“Breakfast will be quick, then we head out,” Beatrix said upon meeting him.

A human woman brought them some simple porridge, which they both ate quietly. A fact that surprised Beatrix given how chatty Welborn had shown himself to be. With full stomachs, Beatrix dropped some silver onto the table and gestured for Welborn to follow.

In the early morning rays of the sun, Beatrix led Welborn into the dusty streets of Irongarde.

Most of the denizens were pulling themselves off of porches after a night of revelry.

The smell of freshly cooked eggs and bacon filled the air as cooks and barmaids began to prepare breakfast for folks just waking up.

Iron workers congregated near the water tower, loading up their belongings into a covered wagon as they set off for the mines.

“We’ll stop by a friend’s place before we go to the stables,” Beatrix said.

“You have friends, Miss Eaves?”

Beatrix smirked even as Welborn smacked a hand over his mouth. She wasn’t offended in the slightest but from the corner of her eye, he looked absolutely mortified.

“Yes, believe it or not I do,” she nearly teased. “This one in particular I happen to call friend because no one else in the entire region can do what he does.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Eaves, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Saying what you mean is an important step toward trust, Welborn. I encourage you to do it as often as you can while we’re on this adventure together. It’ll help keep us alive.”

While it was true that Beatrix had insisted that Welborn should trust her, that didn’t mean that she was going to trust him.

At least not entirely. She would trust that he would do as she said, and she would trust that he was mostly going to stay out of her way.

But when it came to life or death situations, Beatrix preferred a different approach.

A technique her father had taught her when she was very young.

Trust but verify.

Those words had gotten Beatrix‘s father through many years with little to no trouble. Although it could be taken as insulting, the concept had kept the new people around her father safe. Beatrix intended to do the same and that didn’t change just because she thought the cleric was a bit attractive.

Those were dangerous thoughts that Beatrix buried as she briefly reflected on her family.

Melancholy surrounded Beatrix when she thought of her father as the pair left the main road and large crowds.

Beatrix wasn’t sure why she was thinking of her family so much since she arrived in Irongarde, only that it was starting to become a bit of a habit.

She was grateful that Welborn didn’t insist upon conversation as they walked.

In some ways, it was better that Beatrix didn’t do business on the main road of Irongarde.

Only a few people, including the Dust Wardens, had ever questioned her about her firearm.

But that wasn’t to say that the locals were completely ignorant to what it was.

Especially given that the city had one of the most brilliant tinkerers hiding within the bustling city limits.

To an outsider, the simple two-story building could have been mistaken for a warehouse.

Although many people could technically classify it as such.

Beatrix pulled the heavy wooden door, waving a hand over her shoulder for Welborn to follow her in.

The interior of Kay’s workshop was as messy as Beatrix remembered it.

Several long work tables that once upon a time had been tavern tables, took up most of the interior space.

There was metal—mostly iron—covering nearly every surface and the metallic flavor grew heavy on Beatrix’s tongue.

While open, the interior was terribly cluttered with all manner of half built objects.

A crossbow without a bow string, several pairs of massive gauntlets, and a large metal sphere, just to name a few.

Large pains of glass lined the walls of the room, although there were no windows to look out of on this level of the building.

Kay had boarded up the windows long ago.

He didn’t care for prying eyes as his business was entirely his own.

“Exactly what is this place Miss Eaves?” Welborn asked as he plucked the metal sphere from the table .

“ A dangerous place, if you aren’t careful ,” Beatrix replied.

“That’s right! Keep your hands off the merchandise or be prepared to lose some fingers!”

Welborn jumped at the sudden appearance of Kay.

The halfling man crawled out from underneath an adjacent table.

His dark brown eyes looked glossy, and the head of thick, shoulder length black hair was a bit of a mess.

As he got to his feet, Kay dusted his thick leather apron.

He was wearing a pair of thick leather trousers—ideal when he needed to melt things down, or do anything with fire—and an oil smudged tunic.

The oil looked like it had gotten everywhere, making it difficult to see the cultural tattoos that covered Kay’s arms. If Beatrix didn’t know better, she would suspect that he had fallen asleep under the table during the night

I suppose it’s early for him, Beatrix thought. He must have spent the whole night working.

“Seriously, kid,” Kay said, wiping the sleep from the corner of his eyes. “Drop that little sphere, there’s black powder in there!”

Before Kay could reach out, Beatrix had already placed a hand onto Welborn’s own. She gently pushed until the cleric lowered sphere back onto the table. Once safely left alone, Beatrix pushed Welborn a few feet away from the table.

“I am afraid this holy man does not know his way around explosives just yet,” Beatrix said

“That tracks. Most religious types are more invested in their divine magics and spells than the art of black powder.” Kay yawned.

“Speaking of which…” Beatrix started, pulling up the suitcase in her hand. She placed it on to the messy work table, mindful to not la y it close to any objects of unknown origin. “I need some quick repairs.”

“Already?”

“Yes. Unfortunately I had a bit of an overheating problem while I was on my last job.”

Kay swore, hopping up onto a work bench and seating himself on the table, “All right, give me some time with it. I’ll get y’all sorted out. In the meantime you might wanna go run your other errands. Once Bit makes me some coffee, that is.”

“Bit?” Welborn asked.

“Did someone say my name?” a stilted voice asked.

Propped in the corner and partially buried beneath a grungy cloth was the origin of the voice. A golden metal hand with exposed joints reached up and pulled the cloth away, revealing an entirely metal human sized body.

Beatrix was familiar with Bit. In fact, she was familiar with most constructs given what her father did for a living.

When tinkerers started experimenting with hystreanium—a newly discovered metal—they had unknowingly given life to beings once thought to be extinct.

The newly awakened constructs had started to become more common in progressive cities the last hundred years or so.

In fact Beatrix‘s father have been debating on acquiring one around the time she had left home.

On the other hand, Welborn was caught completely off guard. It was most likely he had never seen a construct before. The sight of the animated body made entirely of metal plates with large, glowing green eyes wasn’t something the denizens of Ordia saw everyday .

“Yeah, I did,” Kay said with another yawn. “I could really use a coffee right about now, Bit”

“Coffee,” the construct repeated, recording the request. A moment later. “Understood. Do you require any other sustenance? Perhaps a shot of whiskey to wake up your systems.”

Bit didn’t wear clothes, but they did carry a tool belt around their waist. It was similarly fashioned to match Kay’s, and it clanked against the metal of their thigh as Bit walked toward them. Though Kay had done extensive repairs to Bit’s body, their movement was still a bit clunky.

“Whiskey for breakfast?” Kay asked.

The tinkerer eyed Bit. At nearly six feet tall, Bit was more than twice the height that Kay was.

“Whiskey was appropriate for breakfast yesterday,” Bit reasoned, lifting a finger. “And the morning before that. And the morning before—”

“Okay, okay, whiskey after coffee, please Bit. My head is killing me,” Kay grumbled in a gruff tone.

“Coffee. Very good choice, Kay.”

Bit walked to the wall opposite the front door and disappeared behind a large piece of glass.

Behind the barrier was the entryway to the small galley.

Kay used the glass as an alternative alarm system.

His reasoning had been that shattered glass made noise while explosives left nothing behind. It was better to hear the warning shot.

Beatrix knew Welborn had taken to Bit, even without looking at the cleric.

The young man clearly had a fascination with anything shiny and new.

Curiosity being Welborn’s motivation to do anything—a core trait that would likely get him killed out in the Wastelands.

But for once, Beatrix didn’t discourage this particular thread.

“Can my friend here help with the coffee?” Beatrix offered. “I’m sure Welborn has a lot of questions to ask Bit.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary, Miss Eaves. I would hate to be a bother!” Welborn protested—right on cue.

“Nonsense!” Beatrix sidled up to Kay. “Bit’s still young. Sometimes they make the coffee wrong. They need all the help they can get.”

The tinkerer cast a confused look at Beatrix. A heavy eyebrow lifted in her direction. “Help—”

Beatrix nudged Kay’s leg with her hip. Unlike Gimdor, Kay was quicker on picking up subtle cues.

“— ah , yeah, sure… Knock yourself out,” Kay awkwardly said. “Just mind the glass, yeah? Stuff’s expensive.”

Welborn thanked Kay before making his way toward the hidden galley. Once he had stepped through, pulling the glass firmly behind him, Beatrix let out an exhausted sigh.

“Okay, what in Ordia was that?” Kay asked. “You’ve never brought a ‘friend’ before, not to mention one you trust alone with Bit of all people.”

Beatrix could tell when Kay was being overprotective and this wasn’t one of those times.

The reason Bit rarely left the workshop was simply because of the amount of times they had been nearly stolen.

It had gotten so bad that Kay had to employ the mercenary guild to lay down the law.

Who knew answering a simple help wanted parchment would led her to one of the most brilliant tinkerers on the continent?

And despite what strangers may have thought about Beatrix—reputation aside—she did hold a soft spot for Bit. No one really understood how constructs aged, but Bit had been with Kay for seven years. In a lot of ways, they were an innocent.

“Fine, we’re compatriots ,” Beatrix relented. “And I’d argue that cleric could rival Bit with how quickly he would be kidnapped on the train to Parandor Stronghold. I’m not worried about him hurting Bit.”

“But you’re worried about him hurting you?” Kay questioned.

“Not worried,” Beatrix corrected. “I just like to be prepared.”

“Right,” The tinkerer rolled his eyes. “I see the paranoia hasn’t gotten any better since you’ve been overseas.”

“Arcanists have that effect on me. One of whom nearly blew up Gambler’s Luck and me with it.”

“Ouch. That bad, huh? Okay, fill me in.”

“Hangfire after the first shot and overheated too early,” Beatrix unlocked the suitcase. “It’s usually good for two, maybe three rounds.”

Kay nodded, “I can work with that but you’ll have to swap the fire out. The arcane charge igniting fire as it goes off ain’t helping any.”

“I can relent on the fire,” Beatrix opened the suitcase. “If you can offer an alternative. What do you have in mind?”

“Well…” Kay trailed, looking thoughtfully at Gambler’s Luck . “How do you feel about ice? ”

“Love it, might even come in handy for where we’re headed.”

“Which is?”

“I’m taking the kid to the Searing Wastelands.”

Kay stared. “That kid got a death wish?”

“It’ll be fine,” Beatrix dismissed, though she was still wondering how true that was herself.

“Okay…” Kay sighed. “Just do me a favor? You see any fancy metal or something of interest—”

“I’ll bring you back something shiny if you slide a couple of healing tonics my way,” Beatrix replied.

“Deal.”