Alive At Crepusculum ✓ [TPL Book One]

XV

Down the tree-lined lane good-spirited Albert Reed nearly bounced along when he spotted a boy leaning against one of the trees although not so much a "boy" but more like a young man. His baby face made him look younger than his age and his freckles made him look rather innocent and naïve in contrast to that cigarette in his mouth.

"Have a light?" the young man said as Albert was about to pass by. It just so happened that Albert did have a matchbox with him.

"Swell," he said with a smile as Albert striked the match and lit it up. "Thanks."

"Ya hunt?" he said before Albert to leave. The young man wanted to do a bit of chit-chat? That was fine with Albert, but there was something unsettling about the lad.

"Hunting?" Albert said after a pause. "Not much. Maybe a little fishing."

"Fishin' don't count. How 'bout some wild game?" The young man stuck out his pointer finger and thumb like a gun and aimed it at Albert. "I know got a good hand at shootin' things, but sometimes I just panic 'n' let it git away."

"Ya gotta just calm yerself, y'know?" The young man took a deep breath. "And just steady yerself, y'know?"

"Say, I wouldn't mind a chat, but I need to go." Albert gave a little smile, feeling nervous and angsty for some reason. "Good day." He turned to leave when the young man said,

"Y'know the best way to practice shootin' game?" He paused and Albert turned around. "Raby."

"Raby?" Albert furrowed his brows trying to figure out what it meant.

"It's Roktion."

"Roktion?"

The young man smirked and puffed smoke into the air. "Yeah. I know a lot of Roktion."

"What school have you gone to?" Albert had no kids, so he didn't know how schools were these days. "Schools don't teach that language."

"I went to some mangy old place in South Custard, y'know, by Sawyer. I betcha can tell that from my accent. And they don't teach Rokion nowhere. Nah, I learned from sailors. If ya hang out the wharfs long 'nough ya can pick up 'n' I'm good at that." He smirked and puffed the cigarette.

Albert breathed a short laugh out his nose. "Well, that's because you're young."

The young man chuckled. "Perhaps. Or could be talent."

"Could be."

"Well, I gotta go." The young man snuffed out the cigarette with his foot. He picked up a bag he had behind a tree. Albert noticed how heavy it seemed as if prepared for a long journey.

"Going far?" He pointed to the bag.

"Yeah, down to Montgomery, Sawyer and then Bayland. Visitin' 'n' stuff. Well, good day."

"Good day." Albert gave a smile and waved, never to realize the young man was none other than Will Cooper. Will was just about to meet up with his boys and Michael to set off to Bayland. He was eager to get going. Richard had contacted him again, saying he would meet Will on the Florence to assess him.

"Good day for sure is." He turned a corner onto a street that would take him to Polly's Café. The boys were there ordering sandwiches to go. Michael came soon and they were off. Just an hour later, Mallord, Spanky, Cricket, and Albert would meet at that same café.

* * *

Meanwhile, Allen Steel and Owen Orem were dropped off in Penwood State. They hung out in a restaurant for a late-late lunch and a pint. It wasn't the same as the alcohol in Koltsland back home, but it was good enough. They drank spirits in good spirits as they had finished their duties up in Circumspice a few days ago. It was a success. U.A. ironworkers ogled at their skills and promised a business deal.