Chapter Eight


    “Don’t our mines cover that cost?”


    Troy held up his hands,


    “Eventually, maybe they might. You’re bringing in a steady income with it, but the people you’ve been selling to aren’t going to be paying top dollar. Haven’t paid top dollar for them. Then there is how long it takes to mine them. Thom is a miracle worker, but he’s one person. Even if he went hard to the wall every single day, it would take you a year to reach that amount.”


    Troy shrugged,


    “Something tells me you don’t want to wait that long.”


    He didn’t.


    “What can we do? You want to start redeeming yourself? You better start being useful.”


    Troy straightened, his jaw hardened.


    “I don’t have to redeem myself to you, Mr. Severen. I have to redeem myself to the people here, the people I had a hand in harming…”


    Troy sighed, holding up a hand before Ambrose could say anything in response.


    “There is one thing; coincidentally, you’re probably suited for it.”


    Ambrose crossed his arms, raising a brow.


    Troy’s eyes gained a faraway cast as he looked at a screen. A moment later, he flourished a plain gray stone.


    “This is a pocket realm stone, far cheaper, and sponsored.”


    “By who?”


    “The Bounty Hunters Guild.”


    Ambrose snorted,


    “That’s a thing?”


    Troy flashed a quick smile,


    “It is, and a big thing, too. The BHG is all across the multiverse. They hunt down rogue criminals to every corner of every System integrated universe. Lucky for you, they’re recruiting.”


    Ambrose ran his fingers through his beard,


    “That’s good for them, but how does that help me? I doubt any bounties here on earth equal that amount, and if it does, the bounty in question is probably a lot more powerful than I.”


    Troy grinned, and this time, the smile stayed on his face.


    “As a matter of fact, you’re wrong about that. A rogue D-Grade by the name of Zane Dalewind is hiding out at the end of a local dungeon. He’s wanted in connection with the murder of a prince from the world of Zinveil on the Black Rose continent.”


    Ambrose gave an incredulous chuckle,This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    “What? Why, and how, did he come here?”


    Troy flicked up the stone, flicking it.


    “Probably with one of these beauties. Newly Integrated universes are prohibitively expensive to travel to, three times as much as I just quoted you, but it is possible. That’s part of why the BHG is offering so much for his bounty. Plus, they have to have someone from this world catch him.”


    “Okay, so what do I have to do? Can’t I go to this dungeon and grab the guy?”


    Troy shrugged again, his grin turning into a nonchalant expression.


    “I have no idea. This information is a part of the stone description. It wants you to use this stone and register with the guild first. I highly doubt you can claim the bounty without doing that.”


    Ambrose bit the side of his tongue. He didn’t want to join a guild. He had enough to do here on Avalon, and the most important thing was to go after Eric. However, this was a solution, albeit with extra hoops, to his money problem.


    He mulled over it, chewing his tongue lightly as he lowered his head.


    There were other benefits to this arrangement. Mainly, Avalon’s Tree needed energy. The tree fed off the evil energy a bad person’s spirit gave off. It was a complicated issue, but the tree knew who was evil and who wasn’t based on the parameters set into it by its creator.


    Being a bounty hunter would give him access to targets he likely would have gone after anyway. He could feed the tree via Penance Protocol One, return the person to the guild and collect the fee. Then there were the broader benefits, namely having connections outside of this world.


    Ambrose wanted to find his mother. Beyond killing Eric, he wanted answers. He needed to cast the net outside his world to get them. The guild could help with that. Overall, this was good for him. A near-perfect solution beyond just having the funds readily available immediately.


    “I’ll take the stone, Troy. Do you know what I should expect?”


    Troy shook his head, closing his eyes briefly.


    “Not really. The description discusses an evaluation, but that’s all I know.”


    Ambrose nodded, studying the stone, tapping [Retributions Gaze], and bringing up what the System had to say about it.


    [Bounty Hunters Guild Outpost Pocket Realm Stone: Realm stones open portals keyed into a specific integrated world. Pocket realms are user-created worlds for a particular purpose.]


    Rolling the stone between two fingers, Ambrose willed it to activate. Not unlike the portals he opened, just less on fire, an explicit blue vertical slit split the air, rotating open. Beyond the portal was a bar. No, that’s not right, he realized. It was an old saloon. One you might have found in an old west movie.


    Complete with the double wooden doors, the music, and cigarette smoke.


    Ambrose laughed; he was stepping right into the old Wild West. Too bad he didn’t have any spurs.


    He stepped into the portal, which closed behind him. People were not dressed like the Old West; they wore things he had no idea how to describe. They were futuristic, or Alice might have called it cyberpunk. Others wore robes or martial arts gi’s. As he walked through the saloon doors, no one spared him a second glance.


    A man was wiping down the bar. He reminded Ambrose of Thom, with weathered skin kissed by the sun, wild white hair, beard, and handlebar mustache. His eyes were blue waves under the light of a sunny day. He wore a chocolate brown trench coat and a white shirt with the top button undone, and Ambrose could hear his boots on the smooth wooden floors as he walked.


    Ambrose walked over to him, and the man looked up.


    “Hmm. Newcomer. Howdy.”


    He spoke slowly, with a deep southern accent, which he thought was weird. This man wasn’t a part of his world, was he? Why would he have an accent like that? He dismissed the thought.


    “I’m here to register with the Guild.”


    The man nodded slowly, studying him.


    “S’pose you are at that. Why?”


    Ambrose blinked,


    “Why do I want to join? Does it matter?”


    “Matters to some, maybe not to you.”


    Ambrose suppressed a groan. He hated philosophical crap.


    “To earn money. Why else would I do it? I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to get through this. Who do I talk to?”


    The man produced a cloth from somewhere and began to wipe down the bar. Just before Ambrose burst in anger at being ignored, he spoke.


    “Talkin’ to me, aren’t you? You want in with the guild, that’s mighty fine, but can’t just let anyone in. We have a test for you.”


    Because, of course, you do, Ambrose groused to himself.


    “Fine. Let’s do it.”


    The man nodded, throwing the cloth over his shoulder. He hooked a thumb to the back door.


    “Go on through. Test is in there. Good luck.”


    Ambrose gave him a thumbs up and strode towards the back door.


    He had never been very good at tests.