Sylvaan often wondered why he had ended up becoming a bounty hunter. At this point in his life, there wasn’t much reason to think about it. Regardless, it would tug at the corners of his mind occasionally, making him think of what could have been. For a half-blood royal, there were worse ways to end up. He could be dead. Fortunately, father hadn’t been important enough to necessitate any political intrigue, or scheming. Or, so they had told him at the royal orphanage. There weren’t too many of them at any time, maybe a dozen or so. All, just like Sylvaan, had grown up to serve the Crown.

  The ring of the inn’s door being opened broke Sylvaan’s thoughts, bringing his attention back to reality. It was a nasty habit he had picked up recently, getting lost in thought. He considered that behavior such as that was likely to get you killed in this type of work. Unfortunately, the individual that strolled in was not Sylvaan’s target. He glanced at the small charcoal sketch on parchment that he had been given. The man was allegedly slightly taller than he was, with a heavyset stature, thick beard, and hair pulled back into a braid. In the drawing, an identifying scar rode across the bridge of his nose. Perhaps some brigand or pirate, Sylvaan thought, trying to move inland and find a peaceful life after a lifetime of thieving. Or, simply a man who had run afoul of the Silver Kingdom, and had one of their dogs sent after him.

  The next man who entered was, in fact, Sylvaan’s target. He walked up to the innkeeper, and started discussing with him, pointing upstairs towards the rooms. Good situation for me. Thought Sylvaan. He wouldn’t have to rush into this one, or chase the man down. Sylvaan’s eyes followed him through the crowded room, as the man made his way upstairs. Once he was out of sight, Sylvaan stood up from his seat and quickly slipped through the crowd, making sure that the innkeeper did not spot him weaving through the crowd. After a quick glance, Sylvaan hastened up the steps, and saw a door gently close just as he peeked around the wooden banister at the top of the stairwell.

  Historically, this would be the point where Sylvaan would kick the man’s door open, subdue him in one manner or another, then send for the local silverspear guard to come take the man. That’s been a rather painful and inconvenient way to get the job done recently though… he thought to himself, meandering in the hallway. He was certain this man hadn’t noticed him in the dining area downstairs, and fully intended to stay the night. Sylvaan walked back downstairs, and sat down at the same small table, listening to the local chatter around him in the dining area.

  “The cool weather feels so nice after such a warm autumn, don't you think?”

  “Grain costs twice what it did when I started this farm. It’s a wonder that I’m able to turn a profit these days. Thankfully, we started growing crops a few years ago as well.”

  “I thinks taht if I was the king, I wouldve found a ways to build cities further out from tha capital. Have you ever seen a city so grand?” Sylvaan rolled his eyes at the drunken man. He had been at the bar each of the last couple days, as Sylvaan had waited for the target. While his travels had taken him all across the empire, Sylvaan was still surprised at how different some of these smaller cities in the country were. They were under the Empire’s rule, same as everywhere else. But in some way, it felt completely foreign compared to the capital cities and surrounding areas. This close to the border of the Silver kingdom, it was hard to tell where it ended, and the Bronze kingdom began. As the bar thinned out, and individuals either stumbled out the door, or upstairs to a room, Sylvaan did the same, and retired to his.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The next morning, Sylvaan awoke early. He gathered his few belongings into his bag, then sat it next to his doorway, before proceeding to the opposite end of the hallway. As he neared the alleged pirate’s room, Sylvaan stepped softly, examining the floor in the dim morning light, looking for any loose or creaking boards. Thankfully, he managed to avoid any such errors. Upon arriving at the door, Sylvaan tapped lightly, calling out to the individual inside with a high-pitched voice.

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Do you require any breakfast sir?” he asked, slightly opening the door, the sound concealed by his words. “I do not, thank you though.” came the reply, gruff and sleepy. Through the crack, Sylvaan saw that the man had his back turned, and struck.

  In a flash, he kicked the door open, and whipped a bola from his belt, throwing it at the target’s feet. He turned just in time to see Sylvaan barging in, and kicked his ankle to the side, preventing the weapon from wrapping his ankles. Diving to the side, he grabbed a blade, still in its scabbard. Sylvaan strode across the room before could draw it, and delivered a knee to the man’s chest, bones crunching against the small silver plate Sylvaan had under his garments. The man fell back against the wall, still trying to pull the sword out of the sheath, Sylvaan moving to step on his wrist before he could. The man cried out in agony, a yell emanating from his stooped form, before kicking back at Sylvaan, trying to take out his legs. Sylvaan easily dodged by jumping over it. Petty tricks like that won’t work on me. Just give it up already. As his adversary tried to rise, Sylvaan put his opposite knee into the man’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. He collapsed to the floor, struggling to breathe. As he lay stunned, Sylvaan quickly bound his ankles with a rope, then went to do the same to his wrists.

  “Empire scum!” the man yelled, catching Sylvaan across the chin with a backhanded fist. Sylvaan stumbled backwards from the crouched position, his jaw smarting. They never go down easily do they? Even when they’re beaten. Surely one of these days he’d catch a break. His adversary stood, still bound at the ankles, but determined to fight. Sylvaan stood, and ducked under a lumbering swing from the burly man, who nearly fell over in the attempt. Sylvaan took the opening and threw an uppercut into the man’s jaw, sending him reeling back into the wall, shattering the window. He fell over, unconscious this time. Sylvaan heard voices outside the room, running up the steps. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a document, stamped with a silver seal at the bottom. As the innkeeper and another man burst in, Sylvaan held up the paper.

  “Writ from the Silver General himself.” He stated firmly. “Bring me a chair up to this room, and then leave me to conduct my business. I’ll send for you after that.” The innkeeper wordlessly exited, as did his companion, leaving Sylvaan in the room with his target. I hate having to pay for property damages. The Crown really should change that policy.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The man awoke about an hour later, now tied to the chair the innkeeper had brought. Sylvaan had taken to lounging on the bed, fiddling with a small dagger. It always helped to be intimidating when you wanted information.

  “I expected to be in a cell when I awoke.” the man stated groggily, as he opened his eyes. Sylvaan smiled. “Consider me an empathetic party then. Why would you ever expect that to be the case?” The man stared back at Sylvaan, befuddlement covering his face. Sylvaan held up the picture he had been given. “They don’t tend to give me much but images these days. I prefer to know a bit more.” The man looked down, then replied.

  “Couldn’t tell you what it is that they sent you after me for. I’ve been running for the better part of a year at this point. Smuggling, I suppose. I’m not sure what I did to deserve them sending you after me though.”

  “The Silver kingdom doesn’t take lightly to failure these days.” Sylvaan replied, smirking. “I’m surprised you managed to give them the slip for so long. You must have really gotten under someone’s skin being able to stay hidden for so long. What’s your name?” The man looked up, reluctantly giving a reply.

  “My name is Hrath, if that means anything to you.” My suspicions were right. This is the famous Sea Snake. Hrath shifted in his chair uncomfortably, clearly still confused. “What do you care, now that you have me?” Sylvaan thought quickly. He couldn’t give too much information to this man, but with his suspicions confirmed, there were answers that he wanted before calling the silverspears to come take the man.

  “What was the last shipment you made, the one that got seized at the port before you got away?” Hrath stared at him, trying to measure Sylvaan’s expression.

  “Some merchant in Arulen sent a small shipment of crates with us to take into a port down south. We posed as a passenger vessel, and one of the men on the ship was his co-conspirator. He was supposed to take the crates to Hogun upon arrival. I suppose he was some sort of spy or informant. The crates were a ruse, just filled with some old books. There’s the secret. There’s something in those volumes that the Empire did not want breaching these shores. Sylvaan kept a neutral expression, and rose from the bed.

  “I suppose that does seem rather unusual. I was hoping to hear a more interesting story, but I suppose there isn’t that much to it.” He went to the doorway, and called downstairs to the innkeeper. “Once again, I’m rather sorry about this entire ordeal. I really don’t bear any sort of grudge against you, we are actually quite similar.” Hrath stared at him with ice in his eyes now, realizing the fate that was about to come. Sylvaan smiled back at him. “I simply want to get paid.”