Usually, when I needed to think deeply about something, a walk was not the way to do it. In order to spark my thought capsule, I would need to drop to a crouch and remain still as I came up with elaborate plans. These elaborate plans almost always involved schemes of making money or solving mysteries—especially goblin-related ones. The walk with Tristan Devereux was only meant to calm my troubled mind and enable me accept my fate.

It worked for the most part, yet something still nagged at my thought capsule – and it was the relationship Tristan Devereux had with Jennifer.

We had been silently walking in the bustling streets for a while now, and I decided to get the nagging feeling out of the way before I began my new chapter. My new chapter, which involved levelling down my hate for Trissy and avoiding altercations with him from this point onwards.

“Say, Devereux,” I started in a voice I presumed to be devoid of hate. “What exactly is your relationship with Jennifer?”

He offered me a side glance. “If she did not tell you, then it isn’t my place to.”

I grunted in displeasure, even though he spoke honestly. “Then must I wait for her to tell me even when you are here?”

“You can just ask her the next time you two meet,” he suggested. “I truthfully do not care whether she tells you or not, but I won’t say anything unless she does.”

I had a feeling that whenever this man made up his mind about something, it would be quite a challenge to change it. He seemed like an awfully hard person to deal with, that was for sure.

Whatever the case, Jennifer believed he was a good person, and so I chose to give him a benefit of a doubt because of her. I just needed to clear up one significant detail first.

“Are you really alright with this trial period deal?”

He hesitated before giving his answer. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? All we can do now is simply tolerate each other until the period is over. One thing must not change, though.”

“Which is?”

He turned to me, causing us both to cease our walk. “Do you wish to marry me?”

“Of course not!”

“That.” He snapped his fingers. “That must not change.”

“Do not worry, Devereux,” I assured him. “My desire to not marry you won’t change. Within three months, I will be out of your house and out of your life forever.”

He smirked. “Perfect.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

And with that, we turned from each other and resumed our walk. He suggested a shortcut through a series of alleyways and as we passed through, the area became less populated and darker. I took time to observe the tall black and red buildings around me. Some of them had bricks rotting away, and others had ominous writings and symbols scribbled on them in white. I couldn’t make out what the writings or symbols meant, and I was sure it was another language.

As I continued my inspection of the now deserted passage, the cold bit into my skin and I shivered, yet I could not help but feel something else lurked beneath that chill. And why was the passage a never-ending slope?

“Are you sure this is the right way?” I asked as I went down three steps. It was the third flight I had come across in the passage. My voice sounded too loud for my ears, and the eerie quiet made it so I could hear the sound of my usually smothered footsteps. It was just my footsteps, my voice and no one else’s.

Alarmed, I turned on my heel. “Tristan?”

But alas, not even Tristan was with me.

My gaze darted around, surveying my surroundings.

“Tristan!” I hollered, and only received a desolate and rather depressing echo as the reply.

Where had he gone? Had he been suddenly kidnapped by a swarm of goblins? It was possible, considering the type of place we were in. I had passed by a number of manhole covers, and it was safe to assume that those infuriating creatures could have come up from the sewers and dragged him down with them without my knowledge.

With a sigh, I started back the way I had come, taking extra care to look in paths between buildings, as well as through the netted metal fences of buildings while I shouted his name. It would be troublesome if he had been ganged up on and kidnapped. I was in no mood to conduct a rescue mission.

Sucking in air till my chest swelled, I prepared to bellow his name at the top of my lungs once more, but was prevented by a deep raspy voice from behind.

“Quit all that yelling, lassie. No soul will find you down here.”

I flinched at the abruptness, then slowly turned around to face the newcomer. It was as though an electric wire had wrapped itself around my veins, from the way my body jolted in shock and fear. I had never seen one in person, but I was able to recognise this particular ethereal from Jennifer’s drawings.

The bulk of it—standing about seven feet tall with the width to match could have passed for an ogre—but the grey skin, snout and short ivory tusks screamed orc. He wore what was less like clothes and more like rugs bundled together to form a makeshift robe, and his gigantic six toes (three on each foot) were bare.

The whites of his eyes shone against the nefarious shadow across his face, as his pupils were so tiny, they were almost invisible. It was said that orcs were incredibly short-sighted, but their other senses were heightened.

“You should know better than to wander in deserted places by yourself,” the orc drawled as he stepped forward.

Now, Jennifer told me the one and only sure way to deal with orcs. Coming across one was rare since like ogres, they preferred to stay within their territory where they wouldn’t be governed by outsider’s rules, but it was still possible for them to migrate into other nations as long as they prescribed to that nation’s laws.

The mechanism that Jennifer taught me worked just as well against an ogre, and it was pretty simple to execute. That mechanism was to run.

Swivelled and took to my heels, was what I did.

I did not get far, for the orc grabbed me by my hair and yanked me right back against him. I hissed from the pain that shot through my skull.

He was quick to seize both my arms behind my back in such a degenerate manner that my shoulders could have torn right off. Even with his grip on my arms to prevent my movements, he wouldn’t release my hair.

“You won’t be leaving here until you’ve given me your valuables,” his raspy voice sounded from above my head.

Like the stubborn mule I was, I put on a false bravado, even with the discomfort and pain I was in.

“Well, you picked the wrong person to rob because I have nothing of value,” I shot back. “No jewellery, no money, nothing!”

He bent down and tilted my head to examine my neck and ears, then released a grunt.

“No matter. This dress of yours looks to have some value.”

Oh no.

His voice hissed into my ear, and my skin crawled. “Take off the dress, lassie.”

Curse my fate.

The one time I chose to run in the face of an assailant, I couldn’t. This orc was two to four times bigger than any thief or goblin I had come across, so I was understandably frightened of the creature, and for myself. The only thing I could do was attempt to trick him.

I snorted. “Easier said than done, boss. I would need my hands for that.”

And with my hands free, I could flee.

His chest vibrated with a menacing chuckle. “What a smartass you are. But I’m not dumb either.” The pressure on my scalp ceased as he let go of my hair, only to rest his hand on my shoulder. One of his large three fingers hooked in the sleeve of my dress. “You won’t need your hands when you’ve got mine.”

The impending danger ignited my adrenaline, instantly transforming my ‘run’ mechanism to ‘Fight.’

And I was about to go crazy limbs on the ruffian, except a new voice cut through the air like a sword wrapped in gravel.

“Hands off her, and turn around. Non-compliance and you’ve got a bullet in your thick skull.”

I might have known him a mere three days, but his voice was burned so deep in my brain, I could now recognise it in whatever tone. It was Tristan Devereux’s voice.

The grip on my arms was released, and I dashed forward at once, stumbling in the process. The orc and I both turned to see Tristan pointing a pistol at my assailant.

Did he have that weapon on him this whole time?

Tristan glared at the orc, although the look on his face seemed more sadistic than angry. “You shouldn’t be pulling at women’s hair unless they ask for it.”

What kind of heroic line was that? Why would I want anybody pulling my hair?

The orc snickered. “Tristan the bounty hunter. Of course, you’d eventually come for me.”

“You know my name,” Tristan stated.

“There isn’t a living orc who doesn’t know about you. Not any human can singlehandedly wage war on the entire Orc community.”

My jaw dropped. I had heard many outrageous things in my life but so far, that sentence took the cake!

“In my defence, I didn’t think all the orc would get involved in such a trivial issue,” Tristan said in that classic nonchalant couldn’t-care-less Tristan voice. “But let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Give me Eden’s scroll.”

The orc sneered. “I don’t have it.”

The sound of the gunshot startled me first before the visual of purple blood sputtering from the orc’s hand shocked me. The mountainous creature released a howl of pain while I shook like a leaf.

“Oh my stars!” I squeaked, my mind a jumbled mess from what had just occured. “Why—why would you—why…!”

Tristan ignored my blabbers, his stoic gaze focused on the frozen creature, whose wide eyes studied his bloody hand like it was something foreign.

“My client might not want you dead, but he didn’t say anything about maiming you,” said Tristan. Another gunshot went off, this time through the orc’s other hand, and I jumped back like a panic-stricken cat.

“Your sinful hands have been punished,” he said in a cool voice. “Which part of you should I fire a hole through next?”

My mouth dried up and my blood ran cold. Tristan had raised threats at me before, but I had chosen to consider them empty. This time, I reconsidered. This time, he hadn’t even thought twice before he… before he just…

The orc spat, “Darkness upon you, bounty hunt--!”

Another bullet was fired, this time to his leg.

Again I jumped, my heart even higher than my feet. “Dammit, Tristan!”

The orc now lay writhing and groaning as he bled out on the dark street. The sight and sound was off-putting, and quite unsettling. My heartbeat was erratic with something, yet it didn’t quite feel like terror. I was no longer frightened of the orc, so why could I hear my blood pumping viciously in my eardrums?

“He might not even have what you’re looking for!” I snapped at Tristan, amazing myself how I could feel anger towards him even in this messed up situation. “Why do you keep shooting him!”

His eyes remained focused on the orc as he replied, “No, he has it. Must be on his person somewhere. Give me Eden’s scroll, Rocurd.”

All he got in response were groans and whimpers that were so sharp and intense, I felt them.

In distress, I snapped at Tristan again, “How is he supposed to give you a damn thing if he’s hurt, dammit!”

Tristan narrowed his eyes at the orc. “He’s not motivated enough. Perhaps if I blow out his knee—”

“I’ll get it!” I hollered at once. “I’ll get the scroll off his person so no more gunshots and no more bloody…blood, darn!”

Tristan gave me a blank look. Perhaps he wondered the same thing as I—if I had my head screwed on straight at this point. With a huff, I stalked over to the wounded ethereal, who bared his pointy teeth and tusks at me.

I grimaced. “If he tries anything on me, then you can shoot him.”

“Not a problem.” Tristan reassured.

I gathered my skirts as I crouched, so as to steer clear of the blood pooling on the street. I tried not to dwell on the growls reverberating from the orc’s throat as I searched, with trembling fingers, his clothes for this ‘scroll’. Hope and triumph swelled within me as I pulled out a wooden cylindrical case from his waistband; A case that looked like something a scroll would definitely fit in.

“Open it,” Tristan said to me as I stood and backed away from the orc. Once I got it open, I took out the scroll so he could affirm its authenticity.

“I see you got yourself an accomplice,” the orc snarled. “Very smart, getting her to act as bait.”

I grimaced. “You, sir, have got an even more absurd imagination than him and his mother.”

“What about his mother?”

I screamed and jumped because that voice indeed came out of the blue,  sounding just at my neck. My reaction caused me to bump into Tristan, but I quickly recoiled from him and turned to meet yet another newcomer.

It was a man who was my height. He looked to be in his sixth decade, yet this poise made me think he was as fit as a fiddle. His hair and beard were a blond-white colour, and his face was very, very, pale. His eyes were an icy blue but despite their beauty, held no emotion—just like his chiselled face. In his fingers was a tobacco pipe, already releasing the scented smoke to the air in a thin wavy trail.

“Who are you?” I asked.

His icy blue eyes regarded me for a moment, and a slow nod of his head followed.

“Mm…so you were the bait,” he mused and took a puff from his pipe. “Good job, little girl.”

“Little…” My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as my mind tried to make sense of his words. “…bait?”

Immediately, I turned to Tristan, who had tucked his gun away and currently worshipped the case in his hands.

“Bait!” I shouted. When he didn’t say anything, I planted myself in front of him and lowered the case from his gaze. “Could you explain to me why everyone here is referring to me as bait?”

He finally looked at me, and shrugged. “Because you were. I needed you to come here alone to lure out Rocurd over there. He’s got a thing for shiny jewellery, you see.”

I gawked at him. “So you used me as bait?”

“I didn’t think it would work since you don’t have jewellery, but all’s well that ends well.” He grinned.

He had the audacity to grin!

I had thought I could tone down my resentment for Tristan Devereux. I thought that maybe we could move forward by simply tolerating each other and perhaps I could see why Jennifer didn’t regard him as the scummiest fiend ever to crawl the earth. But hardly two hours into my ‘fresh chapter’ and the two emotions I had come to acquaint with the Devereux chap had resurfaced already; Anger and hate.

“All’s well that ends well?” I echoed sardonically. “Are you really saying all’s well that ends well when I just got assaulted and was damn near fighting an orc just to save my dignity? And you planned it!”

Of course. I could see it now. It had all been his plan. Asking me for a walk, being agreeable all of a sudden, making himself seem harmless so I could let my guard down and trust him enough to let him lead me right into a trap.

“I didn’t plan on you getting assaulted,” said Tristan. “That was a slip-up that…” There was a slight wince in his face. “…that wasn’t meant to happen.”

“Wasn’t meant to happen?” I asked incredulously. “If that is your way of apologising, then you’re terrible at apologies. I demand an actual apology!”

He seemed shocked at first but slowly, his shock turned to smugness. “Had you not been bait, I would not have been able to catch that rascal nor get this scroll. I appreciate that, fraudster.”

“That is not an apology!”

“Well, what do you want me to do, cut off his hands?”

I blinked. “What?”

“I already shot holes through his hands for touching you. You wish that I cut them off as well?”

My eyes widened in surprise, and I was actually at a loss for words. I stared into his dark brown eyes; eyes in which swirled anticipation for my answer and a seriousness I had not expected to accompany such a…sinister question.

Did he expect me to give an answer that he would readily comply with? Why—why was he so serious about it and why…why was my anger towards him diminishing even though the thought of him maiming the orc somehow scared me?

“I…” I stammered, unable to process anything. What did he want from me?

“Tristan,” the older man’s voice caused a break in our conversation, clearing up the tension that had built between us.

When I directed my attention to the old man, I found that the orc had been tied up and placed onto a horse—which appeared out of nowhere, by the way—like a sack of supplies.

What the—? How did that happen in a matter of seconds?

“Bounty’s ready to go,” the blond man declared as I gaped at the quite real horse.

Tristan nodded and walked towards his friend. “Get her to Devereux mansion, will you?”

The blond man regarded me as he silently smoked on his pipe and after a huff of smoke, replied in a monotone, “Not a problem.”

Author’s salutations.

It’s been forever, am I right? Well, I’m on holiday for like 8 days so I figured I could get something in. Hiatuses are annoying because they make it hard to get back into the story (and complete it) Got my fingers crossed that I never give up on this one!

And yay….we finally get an insight on what Trissy gets up to while his family’s all over the family business!🤩

Thank you for reading and stay tuned for the next chapter