Minutes later, Brant and his five companions found themselves immediately outside the city walls. They stood before an open gateway, pausing for a few seconds to read the sign arching over it. The placard bore lettering in both the Kemarian and Jasmidianite languages, neither of which Brant understood. 

He glanced at Chariya. "What's it say?" 

The princess met his gaze. "It translates to 'cozy river town'." 

The Jasmidianite soldier raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? To me, it reads, 'home of the waters'." 

Aaron chuckled. "It seems your two peoples can never agree on what to name things." 

Chariya nodded. "Apparently so." 

"Are we ever gonna go in?" asked the other soldier, a pale man of scrawny build, "I'm ready to warm up here!" 

"As am I." Chariya replied, "Let us go." 

With that, the party stepped through the entrance and into the bustling town inside. A duo of shaggy-maned horses passed before them as they approached the nearest road, pulling a carriage behind them. Inside sat a young couple who buried themselves in blankets while also cradling a trio of swaddled babies in their arms. 

Chariya laid a hand on Aaron's shoulder. "Alright, you and Brant should go find that fuel. I will wander about with these three and see if I can gather some more recruits." 

Aaron nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Good luck." 

"May the luck of the gods rest on you as well." 

The burly man's nose wrinkled. "Yeah...of course. Anyway, onward." 

Brant and Aaron turned to search the scenic town for possible retailers selling fuel. A crushing silence lingered between the two men as they walked. They studiously avoided eye contact and instead studied the buildings and people surrounding them. 

Many of the townsmen had a uniqueness about their features, possessing thinner hair strands and almond-eyes typical of Kemarians, but with generally darker skin and robust builds more commonly found among the Jasmidianites. 

Brant's features brightened when he spotted a homey music shop several blocks down. His thoughts darted to Hannah as he eyed the rows of guitars hanging for display before the front window. A colorful sculpture of a Kemarian court jester stood before the door and beckoned him in. 

Brant said nothing to Aaron, but merely waited until they walked down the road a ways. As they passed by the storefront, he unceremoniously pivoted and opened the wooden door. 

Aaron frowned at Brant, but followed him anyway. "What's in here?" After taking a second to take in his new surroundings, he smirked. "Okay, then. Doesn't seem like your kinda place, but I guess you learn something new—" 

"You're right." Brant said, "This isn't my kind of place. But there's an injustice that needs to be rectified." 

With that, he pulled a guitar off the rack. Aaron laid eyes on the instrument, widened his eyes and mouth, and nodded. 

"I see what you mean. My goodness, that's pretty." 

Brant nodded, still studying the guitar's beauty himself. The body was constructed of a dark walnut, the already beautiful wood additionally perfected by a stain that accentuated the arched grain pattern. The fretboard's widening divisions were marked by shiny brass frets that formed an aesthetically pleasing contrast with the dark wood surrounding them. Finally, the hand-carved headstock completed the instrument, with intricate curves and sweeping lines cut into it. 

Brant finally peeled his eyes from the instrument and approached the well-dressed young man at the front counter. "Excuse me, how much are you charging for this?" 

The man grinned. "Well, I was gonna say 50 shekels, but from the looks of you, I wouldn't assume you're from around here." 

"You're certainly right about that." he replied with a chuckle, "Umm, do you take credits?" 

The merchant raised an eyebrow. "Which credits?" 

"I'm sorry, Alcontean credits." 

"You know, it's typically a lot of trouble for me to get those converted. But you seem like a man who could use a break." 

Brant's forehead wrinkled. "You have no clue how true that is, sir. Thank you. So, how much in credits?" 

The man bit the inside of his cheek. "Lemme think...5,250." 

Brant widened his eyes. "That'll have to be electronic." 

"Figured as much." the merchant said, pulling a card scanner forward. 

Brant scanned his card and waited until a series of three beeps prompted him to remove it. He offered the man a quick smile when they locked eyes. 

The merchant pulled a sturdy metal case out from under the counter. "On the house. Don't want this thing freezing out there." He whistled as he placed the instrument inside. "Ain't she a beauty?" 

"It really is. It's breathtaking to look at. I can only hope it sounds half as good." 

"Well, thank you very much. I made it myself." 

"Wow." Brant said, "All the more impressive." 

Just as the merchant clicked the first latch of the case into place, he glanced up to see Brant eyeing an object on the counter. "What is it?" 

Brant inhaled. "Is that an engraving machine?" 

"It is." he replied, staring into Brant's blue eyes. After a second, he smirked and unlatched the case. "What's your name, sir?" 

"Not my name, but put 'Hannah'. 'Hannah H.'." 

"Ah, for your sweetheart?" 

"Well," Brant began, biting his lip, "not my sweetheart, but she is a sweetheart for sure." 

"With any luck, this gift may change that." 

Brant laughed, then glanced back to see if Aaron had overheard. Considering he currently sat in the midst of a huddle of saxophones with his head buried in his phone and a grin planted on his lips, it seemed unlikely. 

A few minutes passed, and then the man held up the guitar to Brant. Hannah's name graced a corner of the instrument's body, the letters etched into the wood in a flowing font resembling classical Klovanian cursive. 

"It's perfect." he declared, "How much for the engraving?" 

"Ah, don't sweat it. That'll be on me too. You have a good day, sir, and may the gods' luck rest upon your head." 

Brant mimicked the merchant's gesture, placing his palms together, touching the sides of his fingers to his lips, and bowing. Then he pulled the case off the counter, strapped it to his back, and gestured for Aaron to follow him out the door. 

Aaron grinned. "You know, Hannah's really gonna appreciate that." 

A small smile jumped to the blue-eyed man's lips. "I know she will." 

"Alright, let's find that fuel so we can get that to her, shall we?" 

"Sounds like a plan." 

******************** 

The previous night...  

Buzzard flashed one last yellow-toothed smile at Emperor Emil as he turned to depart from the afterparty punctuating the end of his festival. He also swept the grin over Albatross, Cormorant, and Eagle, who more or less willingly returned it. 

Dove had made a brief reappearance, olive branch in hand, a few hours prior, promptly leaving after a summarized report of how he had obtained it. Citing a desire "not to detract from the honor and glory due to thee at thine own festival", he'd left only ten minutes after he came. 

The gaunt man's black robes rippled behind him as he stepped into the nighttime breeze. He limped down the well-lit streets of nighttime Astuaria, a bustling Alcontean city a few dozen miles southeast of Kemaria's Northwest Corridor. Neon lights flashed before every other business, the lurid signs clamoring for passers-by to turn in there. 

Buzzard rolled his eyes with pleasure as he watched a growing bar-fight spilling beyond the business' doors and into the sidewalk outside. Knives and guns were utilized liberally, and the bloody consequences of their usage caused the new god to squeal in his mouth. 

Regretfully peeling his eyes from the violent sight, he turned into a narrow alleyway, where even the neon lights hesitated to shine. He hobbled down its length, into the depths where pitch-blackness dominated. A cold breeze swept down the corridor as Buzzard glanced around. With a shrug, he hit a nearby trashcan four times. 

A figure in a black suit of armor stepped out from behind a dumpster and trudged up to Buzzard. As he approached, a rare glimmer of light briefly flashed down the alley from a turning car. Bright as the beams were, they seemed to vanish as they hit the figure's armor, as if it sucked light in and selfishly held it back. 

"So," Buzzard began slowly, "you're the one they call...the Thrasher?" 

The figure's nod was so subtle it was almost imperceptible, especially considering the heavy darkness. "I'm the one." he said, a voice scrambler on his helmet randomizing the pitches and rhythm of his words as he spoke. 

"Good." Buzzard hissed, "Because I'm in need of your services." 

"You pay, I play." 

"Oooh, I like that." the black-robed man replied, licking his lips. Saliva dribbled down to his chin, but he never bothered to wipe it up. "See, I have what you could call a...a pest problem." 

"Hope you mean that figuratively. I'm no rodent-killer." 

"Oh, excuse my lofty speech. I am, after all, a god, so sometimes speaking with mere mortals is...such a—" 

Gravel crunched under the Thrasher's feet. "I get it. What's your problem?" 

"See, Dove just went down to Jasmidian. He...he fought our fallen brother Brant Nayan, with the noble intention to kill him. But he was too weak to finish the job." Buzzard reached down and scratched his bony knee. "But not so with me. I'm no quitter." 

"So you want this Brant Nayan fellow dead." 

"Not by your hand!" Buzzard snapped. "No sir! I will very much enjoy doing the deed myself. See, my predicament lies elsewhere." 

"I'd recommend you get to the point before I give you more predicaments to deal with." 

The gaunt man cackled. "So, I have yet some more ceremonial washings and other rituals to perform before I'm free to assemble my Death Squad and hunt him down. What I need you to do, is to find him, and wherever he is, keep him and his company there until I can come." 

"How much're you willing to pay?" 

"Name a price, and surely a god will give it to you." 

Clicking sounds echoed off the narrow walls of the alley as the Thrasher tapped his wrist. "15,000 credits now, 15,000 later. I'll add more charges at my own discretion." 

Buzzard nodded and slipped a card from his coat pocket. He stepped up to the Thrasher and scanned the card through a slot in his gauntlet. It buzzed for several seconds, then clicked, and the crooked-nosed man removed the card. 

The Thrasher dropped a red communicator in Buzzard's flaky hand. "For contact purposes. Don't bug me." 

"I'll be too busy for that, my boy." 

"Whatever. Send me the coordinates for his last known location. I'll keep you posted." 

Buzzard grinned and watched as the man leapt up and jetted into the sky, flames and smoke streaming from his boots as he ascended. After removing a cut of raw pork from his pocket, the black-robed man strolled back onto the main road, gnawing noisily as he went.

******************** 

A/N: Well, there you have it! Hannah's gonna be getting a beautiful replacement guitar, and Brant's gonna have even more opposition hunting him down! The guy just can't catch a break, eh? 

Anyway, if you enjoyed this chapter, please remember to vote and comment. Thanks! 

Any thoughts on the Buzzard/Thrasher segment at the end there? 

(I do have to mention, this part of the story kinda makes me happy, because it incorporates two devices I've seen done quite poorly in writing before, but finally, I think I've found a good way to do it myself. First, there were the flashbacks a few back, where Brant was thinking about his father, and then now, telling the story out of order a little for chronological effect, with the whole Buzzard/Thrasher interaction thrown in here instead of when it actually happened. Anyway, gotta love growth!) 

Another quick note, this is the inspiration for the Thrasher helmet, just thought you'd like to see: 

And now for our random question! What's your favorite kind of animal to interact with? 

(I'm not in super close contact with all that many varieties, honestly. My new job is at a house that has two dogs and a cat, and that's basically the extent of my interactions. I have to say, cats are really nice. Not to bash dogs, but sometimes it's cool to have a pal who appreciates affection but won't be mad when you have to do something else. But then again, not all cats are like that, and neither are all dogs up in your face all the time. But I'll stick with cats for now. 😂) 

That'll be it for me today! Have an awesome day, and I'll see you in tomorrow's update!