A Hunter's Tale, goldfishlover [electric book reader .TXT] 📗

A wise man once said, "It is easy for a person to lose themselves in the midst of something exciting. True to his words, the average hunter can easily lose himself, forget why he hunts, in the middle of an exciting hunt, or chase. But I was no average hunter. I killed not the elusive deer or the impressive lion. My quarry was not even animal. To those above me, I was insane; a madman with nothing to lose except my own life. To those below me, I was fearless; a much needed hero who would stop at nothing until every last one of my prey was gone, squabbling over territory in the fiery pits of hell. I am a demon hunter and this is my story.

"What do we have here?" A guard clad in shiny bronze armor said as I approached the gilded gates of Bartonia, the largest and wealthiest kingdom in all of Ageria. The very thought of entering the city was repelling, but for the sake of my mission, I needed to get through.
“I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.” I growled, reaching for the hilt of my trusted knife, concealed within my cloak. The man before me laughed, an unnaturally deep, guttural sound. If his goal was to scare me into submission, he didn’t succeed.
“A beggar by looks of you.” He snorted. “What brings you to Bartonia, little rat?” Cheap insults. How pathetic.
“Business and you’d be better off to let me pass. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to get through today with as little bloodshed as possible.” I wasn’t in the mood for foolishness, and the fact that the guard did not know who I was didn’t help my bad temper.
The guard laughed, putting his hand over his belly in a useless attempt to control his madman’s cackle. “Feisty, are we? Tell me your business and I’ll consider letting you pass.”
I scowled at him, but with the hood of my cloak concealing much of my face, the insolent guard was lucky not to have seen my reproachful stare. “I don’t barter with idiots. You’d be best to let me pass or else.” I withdrew my knife from its sheath, letting the wicked, foot long blade gleam in the midday sun.
The guard smiled. “That’s an impressive blade, but a shame it’s in the hands of a mere rat such as yourself.” He scorned. I removed my hood, letting the guard see my face. He gasped and jumped away from me, backing into the gates he guarded. Without a doubt, my foreign, elfin face marred with scars, scrapes, and bruises from countless fights and relentless beatings frightened him. “Good Lord!” He shouted.
“My name is Victoria Anne Justine. I am a demon hunter and a mercenary of Northern Selentia,” I said, “and you’d be best to let me pass or else.” I repeated, putting my knife away. The guard was no longer a threat, and just as I had predicted, the trembling man nodded and proceeded to open the gate. Without bothering to look back, I put my hood back on and walked away.
Inside the city, a plethora of foreign sights, sounds, and smells greeted me. People, ranging anywhere from wealthy aristocrats to the lowliest of slaves roamed the worn, paved streets. Along with the people, came a range of smells. Freshly baked bread, roasted meat, flowers, perfumes, and human body odor, to name a few. Beside me, a group of children dressed in rags were playing a game of tag. A little girl squealed with excitement as she hid behind my back, grabbing hold of my cloak and said, “I’m on base! I’m on base! You can’t get me!” I envied her, so young and innocent, without a care in the world. My own childhood was anything but pleasant.
The little boy pursuing her stomped his foot on the ground and shouted, “Hey! No fair! That’s cheating!”
“Nobody said there couldn’t be a base, could there?” I interrupted.
The little boy stared at my hooded face in shock. “I… I… sorry!” The little girl released her grip on my cloak and followed suit.
“No need to apologize, I’m not angry, if that’s what you’re worried about. But she’s not cheating if you never said there couldn’t be a base. Keep that in mind the next time you play tag, and also, be careful as to whom you use as a base.” The latter was directed to the little girl, who had ran off to stand behind the boy. Standing together, they looked alike. Perhaps they were related, brother and sister. I had not the time to let my mind wander from the task at hand and so I moved on, in search of the man who requested my services, forcing me into this oddly cheerful hell.

I never much cared for cities; too many people and not enough trees for my taste. In front of me, a woman was trying desperately to calm her crying baby. Deathly sick and thin in the extremes, it was painful to watch her struggle to support both herself and her child. At best, my moral compass was crooked; bent beyond repair; to the point where I sometimes had trouble distinguishing right from wrong, but the sight tugged at my heartstrings and I couldn’t help but reach into my pocket and pull out a small sack of coins. It was all I had until the next time someone paid me, but something in my head told me it was the right, the noble thing to do. After all, I would be paid after I found the man who requested my services here. This woman would not.
I walked over to the woman and said, “Here, take this. You need far more than I.” I reached for her hand and rested the small bag on her palm. Her bony fingers clasped tight around the bag, feeling its contents. The coins inside clinked against each other and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that I was now broke, or the fact the woman had never seen this much money before.
She looked up from her screaming child with eyes filled with wonder. “Thank you stranger,”
“Don’t thank me,” I interrupted, “it was the least I could do.” She nodded and looked at her baby with newfound hope. The baby, a little boy swaddled in rags, saw the hope in his mother’s eyes and quieted immediately. For a wealthy city, there are far too many peasants, I thought.
The woman coughed and said to me, “Who are you, stranger? It isn’t common to give away money. Especially to strangers.” Behind us, I heard the clinking of a guard’s armor against the stone pavement. I had a bad feeling about the man behind us; if he was anything like the man guarding the gate, I needed to get the woman and her baby away from him, somewhere safe.
“Who I am isn’t of importance. What is important however, is that you get both yourself and your baby the care you need, and soon. Now go!” I shooed her away with my hands. She peered around my shoulder, saw the guard heading our way, and took off in the other direction.
There went my money. I sighed and turned around, only to bump head first into the breastplate of the guard’s armor. My head left a dent in the cheap bronze. Had I been an average human, I would’ve fallen onto the ground, unconscious. I only shuddered at the impact. The guard, however, fell to his knees and clutched his chest in agony.
I took off in the other direction, afraid to draw any more attention to myself, but the guard caught up to me faster than I had expected. When he reached me, he clasped a beefy hand on my right shoulder. “Remove your hood, now.” He barked. Hesitant, I removed my hood, but reached for the hilt of my knife, just in case the situation got out of hand. Unlike the last guard, he did not gasp, or jerk away from me at the sight of my face. His reaction was that of a strong man, a man who knew how to control his emotions. “I knew it,” He whispered. “What were you doing, handing that woman your money? Was it even your money or did you steal it?” When I refused to answer, he tightened his grip on my shoulder. My head might’ve been strong enough to warp metal, but my shoulders were weak. Too weak.
I winced in pain and said, “It isn’t your concern. It was my money and I could do with it as I pleased. I chose to give it away. Is generosity a crime?”
He lightened his grip on my shoulder. “That was a good amount of money, elf. How did you get it? If you don’t tell me, I won’t hesitate to break your shoulder. Now talk.” He growled.
“I am a mercenary and a demon hunter of Northern Selentia. Inside the sack were my earnings from my last mission in Siria. A man requested my services here in Bartonia. I was said to meet him somewhere inside the city. While looking for him, I saw the woman struggling to support her child. I gave her my money so