“Sazha, Azalea!” Hiram roared for his beasts. Their hooves and their paws came trampling down the ramp after they’d been released from bondage. The horse and the hound weaved through dockworkers and pilgrims to stand beside him. “We have work to do, my friends!”

His horse whinnied. Hiram lead the two towards where his items were. “You-” he pointed to a young worker, flashing his coinpurse. “Help me unload my bags, young man. I will pay you.”

The roughneck boy nodded. He looked like one of the mountain folks that Hiram knew in his youth. His father traded meats with them for their finely-crafted pots. A pang of nostalgia struck him, as he remembered a supple maiden he absconded with before his assignment to the west. “Ser, where are your bags?”

“See where my animals came from? Unload those bags and help saddle my mount. I have important business in the country.” Hiram peeled his bag open and forced a few coins in the boy’s pocket. “Be swift, lad.”

He watched the tanned youth draw his luggage out. Other riders left the passenger cab. Soon the young lad drew his bags out, his rifle case and his horse’s barding drawing many questions from the Ibinians there. The weight of money kept the boy’s mouth shut- one didn’t ask questions of someone paying so generously- and Hiram had soon unloaded all of his goods.

“Good fellow.” Hiram bowed politely and slipped another coin in his pocket. “Go, get yourself some tea from Liman’s.”

The boy nodded and scurried off. The train soon departed after Hiram disembarked, and he took his time to enjoy the trainyard. He remembered the town from his youth, when he would ride with his father to sell lamb to the butchers and weavers. Back then it was merely the final destination for the herd. Today it seemed to be a growing trading hub. He clambered atop his horse and took the reins, his dog heeling behind him. The menagerie traveled through the bazaar, where merchants hawked goods.

He ducked off onto one side street, expecting to see Liman, his old friend. Dust whipped down the street, new businesses erected in old stone building. A hand-painted sign depicting tea and a smiling old codger’s face stood above a thin door. “Liman’s,” it read. Hiram unsaddled and left his beasts at the front door.

“Why if it isn’t the hunter in the snow!” The grey-haired elder stood behind a counter. He wore cleaner clothes and a fresher face than the last time Hiram saw him. “You are here unseasonably early, my son. Has that winter land you’ve gone to proven too cold yet again? Shall it be the usual to warm up those bones? I half-expected you to bring a blizzard with you!”

Hiram chuckled and slid into a seat. He kicked his shoes off and nodded to the man. “Yes, yes my friend, the usual. I am not here for pleasure, you understand.”

“Ahaha, and why is that?” Liman beckoned a young lady nursing a swaddled baby over. Recognition sparkled in her eyes as she prepared the tea. Goat’s milk and blackened coffee in a porcelain cup landed in front of Hiram. “Is that witch-woman demanding the fruits of the desert?”

“I am afraid I am here for my own sake,” He cast a glance out the window, at the new buildings and bustling streets. “You must understand the times are changing, and there are forces outside the land with… perhaps darker interests.”

“Ah, you’re worried about that foreigner business? Arc whatever? It’s been nothing but good since they came here!” Liman chuckled. “I wouldn’t have this fine establishment if they hadn’t come around!”

“I remember.” It used to just be a bridge over a river, a farming community. Hiram couldn't recognize it for the trading hub it was now. “I have my misgivings towards them, the Arc folk. They do not have the interests of our people at heart when they make their deals. The same as any foreigner.”

"Oh-oh! So speaks the servant of a snow-witch!" Liman shined a bowl and barked at one of his daughters. She began preparing a small dish to go with Hiram's tea. The man was unfortunate and had fathered no sons by the time of his wife's death. However, he had five daughters, all of whom supported his tea business. The man was harsh but fair. "Did I not see you bid farewell with your father so many years ago, when our dear Lord Zahak allowed you to go with her? She was quite the enchantress!"

Hiram rolled his eyes. A few moments later the daughter deposited a small treat onto the man's plate. It was a small kabob of lamb's meat and unleavened dough. A bit of honey glazed the treat, and Hiram gave a short thanks to the woman. "Maker blessed," he uttered a quick prayer, and took a bite. The tender meat, salty seasoning and the sap of a sweet cactus felt right at home on his tongue. "That is another world apart! It was an exchange. I would serve her and she would ensure we received her, what does she call it now-"

"Her frigidizing charms!" Liman pointed to a strange device behind his counter. Wispy vapors rolled off its surface. "I can offer cooled drinks for the porters out there, the ones that cannot handle the heat! They've practically paid for my granddaughter's dowry already!"

"That is wonderful, but these Arc fellows, they bother me." Hiram looked over his shoulders. "They have made moves to start firemoth exports. That's never been done before. "

The old man waved it off. "You know we've never allowed its sale simply because there wasn't enough to go around! Those dragons always hoarded it for themselves, and now these Arc merchants aren't just paying for the silk, they're paying for the dirt, the ox and the tree, too!"

Hiram withdrew a small steel pipe and some tobacco. It was a more durable smoking apparatus, popular in the windy steppes he'd hunted on. He put a little smoking weed in there and lit it up with a snap of his gauntleted fingers. "What you say is true, but I still worry. These foreign merchants are cutthroats. They work in the shadows, like dishonest folks. I have seen them with my own eyes, they are like-" he took a drag and blew smoke from his nostrils "-they are like vipers, coiling one way but striking another. Being the Ibinians we both are, yes, I trust you know the dangers of such despicable creatures."

"My son, the times are changing. Even I can see that." Liman cracked a toothy smile. Hiram noticed a gold-tinged crown, a telltale sign of foreign dentistry. "You worry too much. Why they may be serpents, but our Lords are greater. Coin is coin all the same."

Hiram sighed. "Sayeth the fool before he is bitten, as my lady spoke. I must soon be off, Liman, I have business here. Has my brother been through here recently? I should hope he hasn't been dishonoring that badge. That fool has a heart too kind for this desert."

Liman shook his head. "There was an irrigation project. I believe he was surveying it with the Arc-folk. Retrieving it soon? Have something for Zahak?"

"Not in the way you think," he tore a chunk of dough off and gulped it down, washing it away with his creamy tea. "My business demands it of me. There's trouble on the horizon, and I'll soon be riding straight into it. I have received a… very troubling invitation, that demands my utmost attention."

The elder leaned on his counter. "Ah, so be it. But, leaving so soon? Consider this a courtesy, my son."

"Many thanks, may you be blessed." Hiram couldn't help but smile even as he finished his short meal. He stood and straightened up his spot at the low table. A few guests- pale-skinned, tight-nosed foreigners- shuffled into the building. He passed by them but kept a good grip on his saber and his pipe.

He soon saddled back upon Azalea. His gut sank as he rode, first to retrieve his badge, the next to his Ordo contact.

Character Overview

Name: Hiram Marion

Author: Southdog - If you liked this chapter, check out his original story Country Boy Isekai.

Allegiance: Ordo by necessity

Age: 35

Race: Human

Bio: An Ibinian expatriate living abroad. He was raised in the steppes of the country. At the tender age of 15, his lord (a dragon) forged a business deal. In exchange for a cadre of hedge magicians, Hiram became a settler in a foreign mountain range. His primary duty was as a hunter, employed by a lord. For about twenty years he lived split between his Ibinian home and the mountainous plains he settled. For most of the year he hunted exotic creatures for the witch-mistress his draconic lord signed him off with. In the winter, he was allowed to return to his Ibinian home. He is fiercely loyal to Ibinia and believes the royal dragons have the best vision for the country. The idea of the Sage Coalition having any influence on his home was so deeply offensive to him that he returned purely to drive them out.

Abilities: Hiram is an experienced horseback rider, trapper, marksman, navigator, and orator. He prides himself on his skill, avoiding overt usage of magic where possible. Not that he won't use it, but he avoids it when he can.

• Azalea and Sazha: His horse and his dog. Azalea is a patrol horse, and Sazha is a hunting dog. Both are otherwise completely ordinary animals. 

• Dragoon Rifle + Revolver: A pair of weapons that Hiram uses in his duties. The dragoon is a phenomenally accurate rifle with a telescoping sight, and the revolver is a large cavalry model. Both have been enchanted to not require gunpowder, but otherwise function normally.

• Blade: Hiram possesses a one-handed blade suitable for uses as varied as warfighting, dueling, and food preparation. He is a competent swordsman and his items have been enchanted to resist the elements. They are otherwise completely ordinary.

• Sponsorship: Hiram is sponsored by one of the dragons that rule Ibinia. He isn't royalty, but he holds some political power and special privilege. For most of his life he has granted his brother these privileges in his stead since he lived out of the country. None of these privileges are magical in nature, but he is generally viewed with authority. He can pass freely in many towns.

• Grimoire Gauntlet: Since Hiram served a witch, he enjoyed some privileges. One of these privileges were the witch’s magical charms. He is not a magician, but he has a magical gauntlet. It has a number of utility charms on it. These charms include those useful for covering one’s scent, erasing one’s tracks, starting fires without wood, purifying water, redirecting breezes, and lifting heavy objects. None are on the level of what a proper magus could use, but they are all useful for the duties of a hunter. The gauntlet is also durable and useful as a buckler.

Appearance: Hiram is a phenomenally plain individual. He has a creased face and bags under his eyes. He wears the native clothes of his land, but also possesses a surcoat given to him by his mistress. It is made from the pelt of a snowy fox. It is a symbol of his office. He blends in with the native Ibinian population. That is because he is a native Ibinian.

How they got recruited: Hiram is a monarchist at heart and believes the people must be ruled over by benevolent forces. However, he is deeply offended at the idea that a HUMAN would rule. In his mind, man naturally sorts itself into meritocracies and higher powers naturally fill in the highest levels of these hierarchies. He views rule by humans as ineffectual, and espouses the benefits of draconic rulership. In his mind, the confederation of dragons that rules Ibinia is the most effective system for mankind to prosper under. The Sage Coalition attempting to exert control over that as non-dragons is highly offensive to his sensibilities. He is operating in Ibinia under the cover of acquiring exotic ingredients for his mistress. He works with the Ordo on a temporary basis, because he hates the Sage Coalition much more.