“Excuse me, sir?” a voice from behind him called. Satisfaction rolled over Vincent in waves at the word and he turned, a sly smile pulling at his lips. The rich man gazed up at him, a single eyebrow raised in question. “You wouldn’t happen to be the man I was looking for, would you?”

“That depends, who are you looking for?” he asked. His voice was raspy after years of forcefully deepening it. Sometimes his throat hurt, but it was worth it.

The man at least was smart enough to look nervous. “Vincent Mortimer?” he said, his voice rising in question.

Once again, Vincent’s gaze flicked to the wanted posters and he rolled his eyes. “No point chasing after those rewards, mate, you’ll never see a penny,” he replied with a scoff. Perhaps he wasn’t so rich after all. Disappointing, but it was time to keep moving.

“That’s not what I’m after!” the man called. “I have a job for you!”

Vincent laughed, spurring Sparks on. “I don’t take jobs,” he replied as his horse trotted down the road.

The man struggled to keep up with him, jogging alongside the horse. “Even if it pays gold?” he asked. “And vireen?”

That, of course, made Vincent stop in his tracks. Sparks made a noise of protest and he gave her a pat, apologising to her. With pursed lips, he looked down at the man. “You shouldn’t speak so loudly of gold here, I’m not the only one with the idea to rob you,” he told him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Come with me, if you’re serious about hiring me, then we speak in private.”

He’d done odd jobs before when he was younger and needed the money. Guarding, killing, stealing, whatever paid enough to keep him going. Then he became big enough to do things on his own. It had been a long time since he’d needed a job to get money, but it had also been a long time since he’d had plenty of gold.

He wasn’t sure what kind of job the rich man wanted him to do, probably some kind of bodyguard service from the looks of him. With a sigh, he led the man around the back of town, the perfect place to rob him if he wasn’t so curious about what was going on. Sparks made a soft noise as he hopped off her and he gave her a small smile.

“What can I do for you, mister…” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the tired-looking man. He was older, had probably come to Ilsania on the first boats as a child. There were wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and his hair was thinning.

“Henricks,” he finally said. “You can call me Mister Henricks. I work for Governor Thompson.”

Vincent’s lips parted in surprise and it took him a few seconds to respond. “And what would Governor Thompson want with me? Aside from me in a cell,” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest again.

“Protection,” Henricks said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Vincent bit back a laugh at how ridiculous it all sounded and gestured for the man to continue. “I have a letter signed by the Governor herself if you don’t believe me.”

The thick parchment he pulled from his pants pocket looked every bit as formal and Vincent had expected something from the Governor would look. His time in the orphanage had taught him the basics of reading and writing, but there were still words on the page that he didn’t know. He couldn’t even say for certain that the signature at the bottom was the Governor’s, or that the letter didn’t call for his head on a plate.

But he wasn’t going to find out if he didn't ask and he was getting far too curious for his own good. “What does she need protecting from?” he asked and scoffed again. “And why is she hiring known criminals?”

“What better way to stop people stealing than to give them everything they need?” Henricks replied, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. “She wants people like you off the streets and there aren’t enough people trained to fight in New Feridian. It’s the only option she could think of.

“As for what she needs protecting from? Well, recently there have been numerous attacks from native tribes, targeting the Governor. We don’t know why there has been a sudden rise in attacks, but it has us all worried. All we’d need from you is to keep watch over her.”

It sounded strange, compared with what he knew of the native tribes of Ilsania. He hadn’t encountered them much, only a few times in his life, but they had either ignored him or been kind to him. The first time, he had been out on his own for two months and was starving to death. If it weren’t for the fruit they had given him, he would have died.

They didn’t seem like the type to attack someone so heavily guarded, but maybe he had only experienced a small fraction of the natives that lived in the country. Others could be far more violent than those he had met. He doubted he would be happy if strangers arrived on his land and built all over it.

“And what do I get in return?” he asked. He didn’t like the idea at all, working for an authority like the Governor. He had spent years running from the authorities, living on his own as he wanted, a free man. If he agreed to work for someone like the Governor, wouldn’t he be surrendering himself to whatever she wanted?

Henricks grinned like he thought he was finally hooking him in. “Enough gold to sustain you and plenty of vireen. We’ll need you at your best if you're going to be protecting the leader of Morgot,” he replied, eyebrows raised again. “What do you think, Mister Mortimer? A sound deal?”

Anyone in their right mind would agree to the deal immediately, especially in the situation they had found themselves in. One look at the towns and anyone could see it. The wood was rotting, the roofs falling apart, but no one had the money to fix it. Most people were thin and gangly, the children the worst of the lot, each and every one of them starving.

If he turned, he’d be able to see the fields of crops that should have been healthy and growing, ready for harvest before the summer heat and disease killed them, but most were dying. When he passed through towns, he overheard talk of bugs and sickness that no one knew how to fight, and whispers that sending people to Ilsania was the Queen of Nuran’s biggest mistake.

Any one of those people would have happily taken up Henrick’s offer, but Vincent wasn’t a normal person with a house and farm. He was a man who had been dumped as a child and fought everyone and everything to survive. For years he had fought against the police, gained scars when they shot him. He’d tried not to kill, but sometimes a situation called for it. He was a murderer.

He wasn’t going to be welcomed in new Feridian. His original plan had been to pass through and never have to deal with the province of Morgot again. And there was no way he was going to feel satisfied working for a woman who, at any other time, would be perfectly happy to see him on the inside of a cell. All that effort to survive and live how he wanted would be wasted if he agreed to Henricks’ job.

But he needed gold, he needed vireen. And heading to New Feridian meant never having to deal with Spencer again, who seemed perfectly happy running around the same cluster of towns and terrorising them. He could live comfortably with what the Governor wanted to give him. Not only that, but there was plenty to steal down in New Feridian that he could sell for even more.

He took a deep breath and looked Henricks in the eye. “I’ll think about it,” he said, pursing his lip.

The old man smiled again, trying to be polite but coming across as smug. “I’ll be staying at the inn for a few days,” he said, pointing to the double-storey building towards the edge of town. “Let me know your answer before I leave.”

Vincent gave a small grunt in response and climbed back onto Sparks. He didn’t say anything else, just gave Henricks a nod and trotted away. Part of him might be considering saying yes, but he wasn’t going to be that stupid. There was no way he was ever going to work for Governor Thompson.