Genius Warlock

"Well now, reckon I'm the victim."

Ewan Bremner said gravely.

"Sure as shootin'. That card game I hunkered down was rigged for sure! Can't reckon how I got roped so dang hard! Round up them fellas again! Need to suss out if they were card sharps or nothin'"

Joe and Forrest watched him silently, their arms crossed, while Oliver asked outright.

"Isn't using counterfeit money on the gambling table a problem?”

"Have you gone loco? Hell no. Gamblin' ain't right in the first place. If I scam some outlaws, that's righteous swindlin', and I oughta get a tip of the hat for it! Ain't you got that straight?"

Oliver was at a loss for how to respond to Ewan's excessive confidence, considering it to be somewhat unwarranted.

Forrest, sharing Oliver's sentiment, found Ewan's demeanor equally ridiculous.

Turning to Joe, who stood by his side, Forrest inquired, "Did you hit him on the head when we weren't looking?"

"I wanted to, but I refrained. I did mix a sleeping pill into his drink because he was so noisy, though. That might be the problem."

Oliver and Ewan looked at the liquor bottles sprawled on the floor.

"Darn it all… They were sweet as pie, even popped all them corks for me. I'm let down. I trusted you."

"When have you ever seen me that you say you trust me? What is this guy's deal?"

Joe asked Forrest, his voice laced with disbelief.

Forrest, experiencing the exact same sentiment, retrieved his checkbook, feeling a headache coming on.

"Sigh… The situation's complex. Let's solve one problem at a time. How much did this gentleman cost you?"

"Forget about it. Consider it a favor."

Joe tried to refuse, looking at Oliver. But Forrest wouldn't accept it.

"I'll have none of that favor. You and I are a broker and a solver. An unusual broker-solver relationship, but a broker-solver relationship nonetheless. Money matters should be clear. If you really want to do me a favor, tell me the amount.”

With Forrest insisting like that, Joe eventually answered.

"52,103,900."

Forrest wrote the amount in his checkbook in a flourish of a handwriting.

He then tore out the check and handed it to Joe, who checked the amount and tucked it away.

"Thanks for the help… If it's not too much trouble, could you give us some space? We have a personal matter to attend to."

Joe looked regretful at Forrest's request, but nodded nonetheless.

"Sure, we'll wait outside.”

As Joe took the others outside, Oliver said to Forrest.

"I'll repay the 52,103,900 later."

"Forget about it. Ewan here is under my care now, so consider it his expenses.”

Ewan chimed in at Forrest's words.

"Hold your horses… Last we met, I reckon you were addressin' me as Mr. Ewan. Why the sudden shift in airs?"

"I'd like to say it's because back then I was in a precarious situation needing your help, but that's not the case now."

"Yer brazen as brass… But I can't argue 'cause you ain't wrong. You're quite the rogue."

"I thought the same. I clearly said if you wanted to have fun, you could ask me. Then why this?"

"It's 'cause it's downright dull! You might not know this, but entertainment is best with fake money! Sounds loco, but it's the honest truth. Whoa! Whoa!"

Forrest was left speechless by the absurd answer that defied common sense.

He even wondered if Ewan was still under the influence of the drug.

At least Ewan wasn't the only one defying common sense.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Oliver tentatively raised his hand.

"Make it quick… My head's poundin' from the hangover."

"What's this counterfeit money? They were talking about money turning into leaves.”

"Leaves? …Ah! Good question. It's all 'cause of this."

Suddenly looking like his hangover was gone, Ewan rummaged through his cloak and pulled out a handbag-sized bag.

It was a mystery how he could pull out such a large bag.

Oliver wondered whether the cloak was a magical item.

"Look, look!"

With a proud glow in his eyes, Ewan thrust the handbag in front of Oliver and Forrest.

It was a handbag sewn together from various human skins, with eyes embedded here and there, and the mouth made of gums and teeth.

"My masterpiece crafted by mixin' up a clan of counterfeiters. Stuff leaves in it, let it stew for a month, and it morphs into cash. Granted, it switches back after a day and there's a limit to how much you can put in, but it's still quite the wonder."

"Oh, that really is amazing. How did you make it?"

"I don't rightly know. I also stumbled upon success after fumblin' a bunch of times. Personally, I reckon-"

CLAP!

Forrest clapped his hands and stopped the conversation between the two warlocks. Knowing that if he let it continue, they would veer off-topic.

As Forrest spoke, Oliver immediately snapped back to attention.

"Ah, sorry."

"I thought it might turn out like this, which is why I followed you… Mr. Ewan, did you hear anything from Joe?"

Ewan, hungover, frowned at Forrest's question.

"Hear? Hmm… Ah yeah. I recollect… I heard. You had somethin' you were itch'n to ask me? And you boldly stated that it would tickle my fancy."

Ewan said without a shred of pretense.

"You have the nerve to say… a top-notch black magic craftsman like me would be intrigued… I wanted to hawk a loogie in your mug for such cocky nonsense, but I held my tongue 'cause Joe was eyein' me. Can I spit at you, Mr. Forrest?"

"Joe is still outside."

"Dang it…! Then I can't spit!! But if your question ain't interesting, I ain't spillin' the beans. The alcohol is still messin' with me, makin' me brave."

Forrest squinted, grinning helplessly.

He looked extremely tired.

"They say that when people are too tired, they start feeling good… It seems to be true… Dave, could you please take it out?"

At Forrest's instruction, Oliver nodded and pulled out Bigmouth first.

"Ho, it's definitely a work of Smith… But it seems a bit strange, doesn't it rebel?"

"No, it doesn't. In fact, it helps quite a bit."

"That's strange. The glutton bag-"

"-Can we first handle the important matter?"

Forrest said as he leaned against the back of the chair, speaking to Ewan and Oliver.

Indeed, it was a wise choice. Otherwise, they might have spent hours talking about Bigmouth.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Forrest… Bigmouth. Could you please take ‘that' out?"

At Oliver's request, Bigmouth nodded and opened the mouth at the tip of its head, pulling out ‘that'.

"Kueeeeck!"

‘That' was none other than a huge hammer wrapped in bandages.

To be precise, it was the Meat Hammer that was taken from the disciple of Human-meat Chef.

"This is-"

"-my work."

The hungover Ewan sparkled his eyes and spoke.

The attitude he had shown so far was light-hearted and out of it, but now it was very serious. For a moment, he seemed like a completely different person.

"Do you recognize it?"

"It's my work."

A brief and clear reason.

Oliver was about to tell how he acquired it, but Ewan was a bit faster.

"This is definitely what I made for Human-meat Chef, how is it here?"

"Mr. Human-meat Chef?"

"Yep, that hombre's gambling place… To be precise, it was a gaming den of his underling's underling. I got collared for swindlin' there and had to craft it. I didn't particularly like the fella, but it beat havin' both my hands lopped off, so I handed it over. How'd you snag it? He's as greedy as they come and wouldn't let his stuff get swiped."

"Um, it's a long story, but I took it after killing his disciple. From a man who looked like a pig."

"Ah… I getcha. It wouldn't really suit him. But, is it true? You offed Human-meat Chef's underling?"

"Yes."

"I must've been runnin' hither and yon too much. I only cottoned on just now. But it's curious."

"What do you mean?"

"Even though Human-meat Chef is a notorious varmint who treats his apprentices and underlings like cattle, he also hits back when they're roughed up… Why are you still drawin' breath?"

"Um… I was merely a hired solver."

"Is that so? Hmm…"

Ewan showed a troubled emotion and tilted his head.

During this, Forrest quietly chimed in.

"May I ask a question?"

"What is it?"

"Do you know Human-meat Chef well?"

"I got a good read on what sort of fella he is. Besides Human-meat Chef, I also know Puppet, Fan, and Pied Piper."

Forrest was surprised at Ewan's answer. Oliver had the same reaction.

The four fingers representing the Black Hand were each notorious in their own right, but their true identities were veiled in secrecy.

But to know all of them… They couldn't help but be in awe.

"That's impressive."

"Wait… Are you insinuating I'm a notch below them? That's young'uns for ya. Do you know what sort of folks they are?"

"No."

"I do. They're nothin' more than hoodlums, riddled with hang-ups, deluded, and harboring grudges. But by contrast, I'm a bright inventor, a creator with boundless imaginings, and a grand wanderer. Be cautious… So don't bruise my pride."

"Ah, I apologize. I'll keep that in mind."

"You best… By the way, what did you do to my creation?"

Ewan asked, unraveling the bandage on the meat hammer.

As the bandage unwrapped, the meat hammer, transformed by drinking a large amount of Bathory's blood, revealed its appearance.

The bone was dyed in blood, and the flesh was as fresh as freshly caught meat.

Overall, it looked livelier and more fierce with its pointed appearance.

Ewan asked again with great interest.

"What exactly did you do to it?"

"I cannot answer that."

"What?"

"I have my reasons for not being able to explain in detail."

Oliver replied again.

Ewan glared at Oliver for a moment, but soon looked away.

He then sniffed the meat hammer.

"Hmm… okay, can you answer other questions?"

"If it's something I can answer, I will."

"When you took this, didn't it resist?"

As Oliver was about to answer, he was reminded of a past memory.

"Are you referring to the meat hammer?"

"Yes."

"There were a few who tried to touch it, and they were repelled."

"That figures. It's a temperamental thing, as good as it is."

Oliver nodded without resistance.

After all, the hammer was an extraordinary item. In addition to its intrinsic power and strength, it could extract the life force of people and its own flesh can be eaten for healing.

"And you?"

"Pardon?"

"Did it resist you?"

Ewan asked.

"It did not."

"From start to finish?"

"Yes."

"Hmm…"

Ewan's eyes sparkled as he fell deep into thought.

Along with that, he showed a curiosity, inquisitiveness, and desire to explore as strong as those of the Magic Tower wizards.

"Is there a problem?"

"An issue? Yep, there is. My curiosity as a warlock's been sparked… Let me be blunt. Hand over the hammer."

"Give it back?"

"Yep, I made it. So it's rightfully mine."

"That's not reasonable."

Forrest interjected. However, Ewan was not swayed.

"I was hog-tied here due to a gamblin' hustle! Don't talk to me about reason! Have you lost your mind?!"

Ewan shouted again, loud enough to shake even Forrest's composure.

Oliver, calming Forrest down, opened his mouth.

"I'd be reluctant to just give it back, but would a trade be acceptable?"

"A trade? You have the gall to suggest that to me? You're presumptuous."

Ewan, who was still shackled, retorted.

Oliver apologized.

"Ah, I apologize. I was indeed presumptuous… Well, can I ask a favor? I'll give it back to you, but would you be able to do a favor in return?"

"…Speak."

"I will give you the meat hammer, but could you make me two Tonfas?"

"Tonfas?"

"Yes, two of them. I recently broke mine and need to replace them."

"From what I know, you favor usin' a stick, right? Swish! Swish! Swish!"

"It's a quarterstaff. It's sufficient for me… Is it not possible?"

Ewan stroked his chin as he thought, then nodded.

"Alright, I'll do it. In return, the rest is all mine. Mine!"

"I completely agree. It was originally yours after all."

Oliver and Ewan reached an agreement and made the deal.

"I like that. Here, take this."

Ewan rummaged in his cloak and threw a small round object that looked like a piece of meat.

The object, small enough to hold in one hand, turned out to be a human head that had been dried and compressed like jerky.

"What is this…?"

"My personal communication device. Absolutely, there's no fret of bein' eavesdropped on. When it's ready, I’ll notify through it."

Ewan showed another head that looked identical to the first one.

It was a woman's head, shriveled just like Oliver's, and the eyes were stitched shut with thread.

As soon as he confirmed it, Oliver put the object in his pocket without any feeling of repulsion.

"Alright, then kindly unlock these irons. I need to go and start crafting immediately."

Forrest looked at Ewan suspiciously, but when Oliver nodded as if it was alright, he unlocked them.

With a click, Ewan's feet were freed.

He groaned as he stretched his ankles.

"Ah… Now I feel alive."

"May I ask how you're going to make the Tonfas? Can you make them here?"

"No, first, I gotta skedaddle from this place and head to District Z."

Ewan answered Forrest's question.

Forrest asked again in disbelief.

"District Z?"

"Yep, that's the only place I can craft 'em. It's the only place in this here city where the aura of hell still lingers."

The aura of hell.

It was a term that piqued Oliver's curiosity.

Seeing his reaction, Ewan spoke first while looking at Oliver.

He said with a broad smile.

"I'll explain in detail later."

(To be Continued)

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