After capturing their mark, the group of hunters walked back to their current lodgings. They could have brought the mark right back to the castle, but disturbing the king at this hour was probably not a good idea.
So they kept him drugged and locked until morning. In the meantime, they had whores and booze delivered to their rooms to celebrate the big money coming in.
The hunters gave a small toast to their fallen comrade, but did not dwell on him for long. Those were the risks of bounty hunting.
They emptied a bottle of ale on a prostitute’s tits to honor his memory and forgot him for the rest of the night.
The next morning, at the chant of a rooster, the head hunter woke up. He was still groggy from his debauchery and drank a leftover hot ale from the night before, to wash away the hangover.
He smelled of ale and sex, so he went wash up in the public baths before going to the castle. He could not seek an audience smelling like a cheap whorehouse, now, could he?
After a quick bath, the headhunter got dressed in his cleanest clothes, which comprised a pair of pants unstained of blood, and a fresh shirt he bought the day before.
It wasn’t anything fancy, but at least he wouldn’t look like a savage. He went to grab money bag, which was what he called his mark, and made sure the drugs were still in effect, before flinging him over his shoulder.
The head hunter walked out of his lodgings, holding the still unconscious Astaroth over his shoulder, and walked towards the city gates. He and his gang lived outside the wall, in the poorer part of the city.
Once he was at the gates, he bypassed the queue, throwing a gold coin at the guard, and walked inside the city. The guard nodded at him, catching the coin and pocketing it.
Of course, he was recognized by the guard, but bribes usually loosened their strict moral code. And hunters were not above such methods.
He kept carrying his package to the castle gates, this time staying behind the line. Some people in this queue were nobles or very rich merchants, whom he didn’t want to anger or displease.
After all, who would anger a potential future client? It took only fifteen minutes before it was his turn.
When the guards asked him about his business within the castle, he responded with the contract signed by the court mage. He was let through rapidly and was escorted to the palace.
There, his escort was taken over by a royal guard. The royal guard in question was the same one that had suspected Astaroth the day prior.
A grin appeared on his lips when he saw who the hunter was carrying.
“I knew something was weird with you!” He said, smiling before he threw a vicious punch at the unconscious man’s face.
He hit Astaroth’s nose, instantly drawing blood, to which the hunter reacted by dropping his package.
“Hey, man! Don’t get blood on my fresh shirt!” The head hunter said, kicking Astaroth in the stomach.
Astaroth was still unconscious on the ground, oblivious to what was happening. His only clue to this later would be his bloodied nose and sore ribs.
The guard laughed at the hunter’s reaction before kicking Astaroth, too. The hunter grinned before grabbing Astaroth again, this time by the scruff of his armor, to drag him along.
The royal guard led him to the audience chamber, where the king awaited their arrival with impatience.
The guard announced their presence, pushing the door before entering the room with the hunter. The king smiled when he saw the state Astaroth was in.
“I see you bring me back my thief.” King Vhol’drokk said in a satisfied voice.
“Yes, your majesty. This one was feisty, too. Killed one of my men.” The hunter said, looking at the king expectantly.
“And I shall compensate you justly for it. Court mage!” The king called.
“Yes, my king.” Gelum’vire answered, bowing his head.
“Compensate this man. Give him a thousand gold pieces for bringing me the thief, and another five hundred for losing a comrade.” The king ordered.
“Yes, my king.” The court mage replied, making his way to a side door.
“As for you, hunter. What is your name?” The king then turned to ask the hunter.
“My parents gave me the name Do’bauthin Ragar, your majesty.” the hunter replied, bowing deeply.
“Hmm. Escapist finder. A fitting name, if I may say.” King Vhol’drokk said, grabbing his chin.
“Thank you, my king. You honor my parents and me with your words. And your generosity knows no bounds.” Do’bauthin said, metaphorically licking the king’s boots.
“Now tell me, hunter. How did this whelp manage to best one of your men?” The king asked.
“He resisted the sleeping gas tool we bounty hunters use. I do not know how, but he did.” Do’bauthin replied, scratching his cheek.
To him, that would stay an eternal mystery. Rare were the ones that did not fall to that tool.
Unless they were powerful enough to resist the effect, all men fell. And this kid was not powerful enough, of that he was sure.
“Hmm.” The king hummed as he fell into deep thought.
The hunter dared not interrupt his thoughts, so he remained motionless and silent. The next sound to be heard was the sound of a door opening.
The Court mage was with a chest of gold. Two guards were carrying it, and they dropped it before Do’bauthin.
“Your payment, hunter.” Gelum’vire said, before walking back to the king’s side.
“Thank you, sire.” The hunter said, before walking to the chest.
He could feel rich just by standing in front of it. The weight was nothing he couldn’t handle, so he hoisted it over his shoulder and prepared to leave.
But before he did, he turned and said one last thing.
“We didn’t have magic-suppressing cuffs, so I recommend you put some on him. He was the first to notice fluctuations in mana from our tool, so he might be a mage.” Do’bauthin said, before turning to leave.
Once he was out of the room, Gelum’vire made a head gesture to a guard, and the guard went to fetch magic-suppressing cuffs. He would heed the advice, simply because one was never too prudent.
The guard soon came back with the cuffs, swapping out the ones already on the prisoner. The mage could feel mana emanating from Astaroth, although diminished, even with the cuffs on.
That perplexed him a bit, but he wrote it off as residual mana. It wouldn’t matter anyway, as the cuffs would suppress any attempt at casting a spell of any kind.
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“Yes, my king!” The court mage responded, jolted back to reality.
“You seem perplexed. Care to explain why?” King Vhol’drokk asked his court mage.
“It’s hard to explain, your majesty.” The mage started explaining.
“It’s like there is still mana emanating from him, even with the magic-suppressing cuffs. But that should be impossible.” He added.
“And what do you think is causing such a phenomenon?” The king asked.
“I don’t know, your majesty. But it might simply be residual mana from his fight. I have no way to tell.” Gelum’vire said, a little awkward at his lack of a better answer.
“Then it matters not. Have him brought to the cells. I want to interrogate him when he wakes up.” The king said, waving his hand dismissively.
“Yes, your majesty.” The court mage replied.
Gelum’vire then waved at two guards and had them bring the prisoner to the holding cells. The king would not let go until he had the answers he wanted, so the kid might be there for a while.
His only ways out were to give satisfactory answers or death. He hoped the kid would not be stubborn, because killing him would most likely anger the kingdom’s spirit.
And that was something that had to be avoided at all costs. The king’s right to rule would be at stake then.
The two royal guards brought Astaroth to the holding cells and unceremoniously threw him into one. They then bowed to the court mage and took their leave.
Gelum’vire stood before the prison cell for a while, wondering just what the kingdom spirit wanted from this boy. Rarely had it reacted like this to defend a single citizen other than the king.
Since they would only get answers when the hunter’s drogues wore off, the mage wasted no more time here and left. Soon, the only noise around was the sound of rats squealing and running around.
Many hours passed by before Astaroth finally came to. His mind felt cloudy, memories of what happened last, hazy.
He tried looking around him, but everything was just bright and foggy. It took him some time before his vision gradually started clearing up. Then he heard a young-sounding voice near him.
“Are you finally awake, sir?” Said the voice.
Astaroth had to focus just to hear where that voice had come from. When he pinpointed it, he turned his head.
Looking at him from behind a set of bars was a little boy. It was more accurate to say he was the one behind bars from the looks of the surrounding room.
Astaroth focused on the boy.
“Who are you? And where am I?” Astaroth asked.