“Watchman Nivar, strange to see you back at this hour, what do you need?”
I salute Assistant Commander Staghorn before responding.
“Sir, I finally have a lead on all of those missing animals. There's a trail this time, but the rain is rolling in. Are any of the trackers available?” I say any, though I'd rather not have to work with Tracker Percival. That guy is really annoying, even if he is a good tracker.
“Really now? That's some good news, not enough of that around here lately.” He won't say it but I know what he's referring to. The city finally got large enough to draw the interest of organized crime, caught someone trying to sell blue-powder in the alleyways a few days ago. “I think Tracker Stanton is in the yard shooting some rounds of target practice. Why don't you go get him.”
Thank goodness he knows to leave it at that, if The Commander was in I'd have to refuse another promotion. They like my work, but they want me out of the city and on road patrol, and I care more for the people that live here than the constant caravans running through to get the best prices.
Haven't seen Tracker Stanton much, he often gets sent out to deal with wolves or other predators that decide to come and attack livestock. If he determines the track to just be some animal I'm supposed to leave it to him to deal with a problem like this one. If he thinks its something else, then I'll be coming along for protection. I've heard he's better with his bow than he is at following a trail. Then again, I hear he's very good with that bow.
I go around back to the guard house training yard, just big enough to have a decent archery range, though people practicing at hand to hand and melee have to trust the archers to be able to shoot relatively straight. Nearly got hit by a misfire while demonstrating tripping techniques here. Not the archers fault, the crossbow's lever broke, that one made administration change the layout of the training grounds. I hear we're getting a shipment of Dwarven gear. Until that shows up I'll stick to my personal equipment. Maybe even after it arrives, it's much better than standard gear.
Never used my crossbow off of the range here, though dad constantly reminds me that I should always have a ranged weapon handy. Out of respect for his military experience I still practice with it and keep it in my magic pouch, always get distracted when I try to think of how that pouch works. This time I convince myself, 'It's magic, I should focus for now.'
There he is, has the build I'd expect of a tracker, long legs, light frame, wiry build. Practicing with a non-standard issue longbow, he has a good rhythm going, load, aim, fire, hit, load, aim, fire, hit. “Tracker Stanton?” He nods but keeps on firing, “Are you familiar with the missing animals, west side? We thought it might have been theft because of the lack of tracks, but this time some were left. I'd like you to take a look.”
“Ah, so you're Watchman Nivar, you've got fans up top, they seem to think if they can get you out of the city and on the roads that they won't need to worry about bandits ever again.”
“So I've heard.” I hope my tone says: please, drop it here. This is why I can't stand Tracker Percival.
“Finally have tracks to work with, any idea what they might be?” He looks over, gray eyes, that's not a common sight.
Thank you, glad he can keep his head on something that matters. “No, they don't look familiar. It has claws, and can drag away a cow without leaving a blood trail,” I hadn't thought about that part before. How could something so big be taken back so cleanly? No blood and not much sign of struggle on the cow's end, “I suspect that, whatever it is, it may be is poisonous.”
“Well now, I guess it's a two man job, then. Drinks are on me, when we get back.”
I guess he hasn't heard that I don't drink.
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