Bounties

The wooden door opened wide enough that the bell it was attached too rung throughout the room. A few heads in the small cozy space turned to give the entrance a cursory glance. Not a single pair of eyes bothered to linger too long, most of the people had their own individual concerns and conversations to occupy their time. Those that did not, were either in fast pursuit to acquire some or were busy making inquiries into a warm meal and a soft bed for the night. Late night visitors were very common here.

The youth that had entered walked inside quickly to prevent the escape of the interiors warmth. It was a starry night sky outside, but the previous night had seen a nasty storm that left the dirt roads very muddy. Despite the fact that customers were encouraged to use the matte at the door to wipe their feet, he made no little attempt to do so. Instead, he just dragged it in with him without a care in the world. An act that brought a small frown and a nod from the tavern keeper who was too preoccupied at the bar to take immediate action.

A little, wicked grin formed on his face accompanied by a slight shrug that was barely noticeable. The young man crossed the distance between the door and the bar. Though on a busy evening like this, it did take some effort on his part to avoid all the pitfalls inside. Twice he’d had to side step some customer or other that was to consumed in a conversation and not enough about the immediate surroundings. When he came around one of the round tables, he almost tripped over an empty mug that was on the floor. If not for his natural sense of balance, he would have done just that and spilled the contents of his brown sack for all to see. His fist had raised an instant later to smack the man that sat at the table but when he realized that the man had passed out already, he forestalled his punishment.

With a grunt, he returned to his original destination, without further incident. He sat on the end of the bar. There weren’t any people that near to him on that side of the bar. The closest person was more than two stools away. The broadsword at his hilt was on the side away from people. It was just the way he preferred things. With his sword positioned relative to everyone around him as it was, it became far harder for others to get to his weapon before him. In addition, it limited the amount of directions he had to keep an eye on, it was the next best thing to a wall at a man’s back. Not to mention it made it far less obvious that he didn’t really trust anyone around him.

“Looking good as always Linda,” his swift hand plucked a biscuit off a tray of appetizers as an older woman passed him., “how about you serve me up some of that roast in the back. We can eat it together in the my room.”

The blonde barmaid flashed him a wry smile to accompany the witty remark on the tip of her tongue, “A lady like myself never entertains a gentleman in his room. Especially when that gentleman happens to be a wild young pup that has a tendency to have wandering hands.”

“If you’re through distracting the hired help, you might want to think about ordering something or giving that seat up to a customer that actually pays,” the elderly man behind the bar finally cut in.

The youth shifted his attention back towards the elderly tavern keep, The man was old enough that he had gray tufts of hair that peeked out from under the leather cap he always wore. It would be no great surprise to find a patch of bald scalp underneath the cap and there was an unspoken bet amongst some of the customers just to that effect. Though smaller in stature than average, the small scar that ran from the man’s cheek down through his lips at a diagonal hinted at a side that was even tougher than the one he showed already. Perhaps that was the reason why there were so few fights here, everyone with any common sense knew that even if other’s in the tavern stayed out of a scuffle, there was a good chance that the manager of the inn would be able to disperses it all on his own. Someday he’d have to ask him about his experiences, and how he got that scar.

“Relax, ole Linda’s adept enough at her duties that she could converse with everyone in here, serve everyone a warm meal and still have time to stitch you a comforter,” replied the young warrior, “besides Griffin, I am a paying customer and you know it.”

Griffin’s head shook from side to side, “Says the lad whose tab only gets higher and higher every time I see him. Oh and that’s another thing Marion. I don’t seem to have this cycles room an board yet. When am I gonna see it? Or do you need to start looking for another place to sleep tonight?”

Without any more preamble Marion dropped the heavy sack on the bar‘s tabletop with a small thud, “Look inside. You’ll find that I’ve finally caught up with the infamous Raynuss Brothers. They won’t be terrorizing traveling caravans moving through Frejourn’s Pass anymore. So then, will this cover my expenses for awhile?”

The Raynuss Brothers were a group of bandits that had become something of a local terror. They first appeared when the thick snow that prevented travel between the western province of Lycynthill and the eastern province of Kaliphia had finally melted. Frejourn’s Pass was the only known route that could be safely taken between the two provinces. This was especially true for large or even medium caravans that tried to bring goods too and from the provinces.

It hardly needed to be mentioned, but the fact that this vital trade route had been disrupted by a troupe of bandits was of grave concern to all of those that resided within Lycynthill. The province already had issues with the scarcity of supplies due to the conflict with the country of Shualivas. Various attempts to isolate the cities and villages within the area had placed a strain on the provinces’ resources . The raids had started just before the change in seasons, so that they were already taxed before the trade routes could open again. What resources could be spared had gone to the larger cities that served as the major deterrents to a full scale invasion. That left the smallest groups of people, namely those that resided in villages without any means to fend off the usual list of problems that accompanied this time of year.

As the first carts full of wheat and grain had started to come in, it was hopped that everyone would receive some much needed relief. This was not to be the case, a week after the first shipment had come over the mountain the reports of attacks started to reach the ears of the local government. The bandits were fairly well organized and methodical in the attacks. They almost always attacked at night, or the early morning, when people were the most distracted and lightning was poor. The group had been so proficient in their attacks that at first the only way people knew that there had been sinister motives behind the disappearances of the caravans was because remains had been found. It was nearly a full month after the first group disappeared that someone had finally managed to survive one of the raids. The survivor’s account of what had befallen the third group to be attacked painted the group with an appearance like that of any other group of thieves. With poor, shoddy clothes combined with makeshift staves and the usual amount of cackles, arguments and lake of leadership that one would expect in a typical mountainous group of bandits. The problem had been compounded by the fact that the soldiers sent to deal with them were unsuccessful at their attempts to locate gang’s base of operations.

So as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, the price placed on their heads gradually became higher. He had been surprised to find that the bandit company, whose bounties were worth a small fortune, would be so easy to find. All it had taken was to carefully watch the next shipment to come through the pass. After enough time they showed up and from there it was a simple matter for him to track them back to a cabin that was used as a hideout. His assessment of the former terror of Frejourn’s Pass matched the one given by those that survived a run-in with them.

“By Golthia,” The objects within the bag shocked the tender enough for him to invoke the name of the patron goddess of war and death, “did you really have to go this far?”

“Well, I realized that they had too many men for a single person to take on-,” Marion paused to take a bite from the biscuit he’d taken, “-mmm, Kalidika really is the best baker this in Lycynthill. You need to start paying him what he’s worth before some noblemen comes by and takes him off your hands.”

“I keep telling him that but he never listens to me,” Linda patted him on the head as she walked back through the door that lead to the kitchen.

“Don’t go encouraging the lad, he’s got no sense fer business an you know it,” Griffin called back over his shoulder to his wife.

“He’s got more sense then you do,” called the woman from inside the kitchen, “honestly you don’t pay the hands enough an wonder why we’re always in need of a good replacement for em.”

Before the couple could get deeper into an argument Marion cut the tender’s reply off, “Where was I again? Oh that’s right, you see there were too many men for me to deal with. I’ve always been taught to only fight when the playing field was even and then only if you can’t cheat to tip the scales in your favor. Which is why they are the way they are.”

The older of the two’s face grew grim as if he didn‘t want to ask what he was about too, “You didn’t honestly do it did you?”

The bounty hunter nodded his head eagerly, “The proofs right there on the table. Too take them on with a sword, I’d need more people and that means sharing the rewards. The easiest way to avoid doing just that was to trap them inside of the log cabin. After that it was just a matter of setting fire to the wood and waiting for them to die. A few of them tried to escape through a window but they were cut down easily enough. “

He loosened the cord holding the sack up, just enough to reveal the top of the pile of charred severed heads, “they left the cabin shortly after that attack and before I made quick work of them. I expected to find some of the loot inside so I snuck in while they were out Yet, I didn’t find anything all that extravagant, or excessive. Just the bare minimum, things like food and clothing and arms. “

There was an awkward pause for several long moments that was followed by a round of applause and pats on the back from those that had paid attention to his harrowing account. Which as it turned out, was quiet a few individuals. It wasn’t uncommon for patrons of the Lonely Oak to listen to the tales of the bounties brought in. In fact, it was something of a favorite pass time for those that frequented the tavern. The only exceptional thing about this story was that everyone that everyone had experienced the additional hardships the Raynuss Brothers had put on the area. For the immediate moment, the lad was seen as something of a hero.

Griffin leaned over the bar so t hat he could reach out and ruffle the kid’s short black hair, “well done, well done indeed. As a special celebratory gesture, all drinks are on the house for the remainder of the night. I’ll be sure to give you your share of wealth for the heads. I think they were worth over fifty yollie a head and there was a bonus if the raids stop after all is said an done.”

Griffin didn’t mention that he’d take the bonus as payment for covering the initial fee of the bounty. That was just considered part of the unspoken deal that most finders had between the bounty hunters , themselves and the local magistrates. The owner of the establishment removed the bag of heads from the bar to be stored temporarily down underneath on a shelf reserved for such items. Marion was robbed of his chosen spots’ effectiveness as many of the men in the tavern left their respective tables to line up at the bar. When free beverages were offered it tended to become quite crowded there. Enough that he would probably move somewhere more defensible very soon to placate his sense of paranoia.

The tender placed a mug full of ale down in front of him. There was a brown, almost orange like tint to it that caused the night’s guest of honor to suspect that it wasn’t the usual blend. The moment that the mugs’ contents made contact with his tongue he became certain of what it was. The sour acidic tint started at the tip of his tongue, and spread along the center towards the back. There was an additional, sweeter after taste that covered up the ale’s usual strength.

“Sythrillian ale!,” he looked at the man, “maybe I’ll have to start burning unsavory thieves alive more often.”

“Make a habit of doing that and you’ll wind up with a creepy nickname that will keep you without the company of a good lass for the rest of your days,” Griffin leaned in closer while he lowered his voice, “Which is what I wish I would have done.”

Linda, who was by now very busy with the increase of drink orders turned and asked, “what sort of ill-fated advice are you filling the pup’s head with now?”

“Just telling him about the joys of married life,” Griffin quickly replied.

“Yeah, I’ll just bet you are,” the woman’s tone was overly drenched with sarcasm, “get busy helping with these orders, I’ll waste away in the pits of Thressil before I do all the work around here.”

Marion just chuckled at the two before he remembered something, “You know, there was one last oddity about today’s events. On the way back I noticed what seemed like a well worn path in the mud. It was like a group of people had walked single file towards the city of -”

The bell chimed violently as the door was suddenly forced open. Every head that was at least partially sober snapped in the direction of the entrance. Half of the people in the room had placed a hand over whatever weapon was handy. A few had even managed to draw their swords or ready their crossbows for danger. Those that didn’t had opted for stealthier methods to avoid any potential risk to life and limb. This included anything from concealment under tables too feigned drunken sleep.

The former center of attraction for the evening had opted for the former of the two options. His sword was partially drawn to facilitate an easy and far faster draw if needed. He had rolled off of the stool into a crotch that minimized his body’s profile. Which was about the only to protect against arrows short of concealment behind the bar. Whether this meant that his reflexes were among the sharpest of the tavern’s patrons or that he was simply exceedingly cautious was a matter that could be debated for hours.

The source of the disturbance stood in the doorway. Or perhaps it would be better to say that he held on for dear life instead. Blood leaked from the deep wound that was readily apparent in the man’s shoulder. Enough poured down that parts of the gray sleeve of his shirt had turned a deep, sickly shade of pink. The man seemed unhealthily pale and had to hold onto the door to continue to stand. He was muddy all over, as if he had fallen several times on his way to the inn. It was clear that this man was no threat to anyone.

“Linda, quickly get some clean clothes and water,” the owner told his wife and pointed to some of the men nearest the door. “don’t just gawk at him, help him inside or you’ll be paying for drinks tonight after all.”

“Please, help us,” the injured man slumped to the ground before anyone could reach him, his finale words ushered forth from his lips, “Shualivas soldiers. Att-attacking Synthrillia…”