The corpse of the man was swaying in the wind as it hanged from the beech tree. Crows had picked out his eyes and taken off his nose leaving his face a bloody pulp. His once white shirt was covered in blood and dirt. The legs of the man had been cut off from the knee leaving a puddle of blood in the mud above which the man hanged.

‘An imperial messenger riding from Dalleren to Hallesz Castle’ said the captain in a severe gloomy voice. ‘a hunter found him this morning.’

Jurgen slowly looked the corpse up and down. Two days. He concluded. ‘How many so far.’

‘Including him? Fifteen.’

‘All like this.’

‘Yes. The dwarf leading them insists on cutting of their legs to “put them down to normal size”.’

‘A dwarf?’

‘Not one from Haggrum but one from the south. Once a captain of a punitive expedition. Deserted after the Kirrina campaign and has been terrorising the region ever since.’

‘What about his gang?’

‘Fourteen other deserters most of them dwarves... Real cruel fuckers.’

Jurgen stared at the corpse. ‘ I was told this was a one-man contract, yet you tell me this gang is fifteen experienced dwarven deserters. I am a skilled bounty hunter but no matter what the rumours say fifteen is too much for me.’

‘The contract does not tell you to kill the dwarves it merely asks for the location with additional pay for any outlaw head you deliver to me or the bailiff. Find their hideout and me and my boys will make short work of them.’

A rustling of leaves and cracking of sticks started coming from the undergrowth as a group of three imperial soldiers emerged.

‘They are here for the body.’ said the captain. ‘Talk to the hunter he might have more information. Show me the way to those fucking midgets and you will be paid handsomely.’

‘I will do what I can.’ Jurgen shook the captain’s hand and left the beech tree for the village of Dalleren, which was the hunter’s home. Walking away Jurgen could hear the captain yelling orders at his soldiers. Jurgen’s horse, a black mare, was standing where he left her, in a clearing by the road. He urged her on riding briskly to Dalleren. In the distance the sky was darkening, and chaffinches were flying overhead heralding rain. It was late in the afternoon when Folker arrived at the village. Dalleren was built around the Red Hen inn and consisted of only a couple of huts and a granary surrounded by a low palisade. At the gate Jurgen was greeted by the barking of a dog and an older man with a crossbow.

‘Who goes there.’ The older man called out to Jurgen.

‘A bounty hunter looking to ask some questions.’ Jurgen called back.

‘A bounty hunter eh? Ride on through then, Larson will want to speak to you.’

‘Who is Larson?’

‘The innkeep. Follow me.’

Following the older man to the inn it started to rain. Inside the inn it was warm and quite comfortable. The tables were mostly clean, and a large fire was roaring in the hearth. Behind the bar stood a tall stout moustached man, who must have been the innkeep Larson. He was pouring a drink for the customer sitting on the barstool opposite him. He turned his head towards the older man as he and Jurgen entered.

‘Who have you brought here Jan.’ The innkeep asked the older man.

‘Someone who might be able to solve our trouble. He’s a bounty hunter.’

‘Here for the contract are you.’ Larson said turning to Jurgen

‘I am. I came here to talk to a hunter who found the corpse of the messenger.’

‘Have a seat then.’

Jurgen sat down next to the man drinking in silence. The older man named Jan also sat down.

‘You want a drink.’ Larson offered. Jurgen nodded and got passed a flagon.

‘About the hunter.’ Jurgen began after a silence. ‘Where might I find him.’

‘You’re sitting next to him.’ The man who had been silent up to this point replied in a drunken voice. ‘I found the boy hanging from the tree. I saw black birds circling above the trees and I hoped an animal got caught in one of my traps, but God was I mistaken. I could hardly believe my eyes. That boy just hanging there and the blood. Oh God the blood.’

‘It’s okay Hans just finish your drink and go home to Maria.’ Larson said.

‘Bounty hunter perhaps we should talk in private. Jan take Hans home.’

Larson led Jurgen into the kitchen. ‘It has been very hard on him; this is the second one he has found. The last one was a farmer’s wife that went missing washing clothes in the stream. He has been hitting the bottle ever since and this only made it worse I’m afraid.’

‘I am sorry for him, but I need to talk to him for information about the gang.’

‘He won’t tell you anything I don’t know so ask me and leave him in peace, he needs it.’

‘If I am to track the gang, I need to know about their movements. Where they were last seen, which way they were headed and what they were doing.’

‘They pillaged Hoppedal a month ago, killing every man, woman and child. After that imperial soldiers showed up forcing them to lie low. They have been kidnapping and killing locals to pass the boredom waiting for winter when the soldiers leave. With the first snows approaching I’m glad the bailiff finally decided to hire a professional.’

‘Not much to go on but I can make it work. I’ll need a place to sleep if I am to do this contract though.’

‘You can stay here free of charge. It would be good to have extra protection. I’ll even pay for you to stay in winter if you don’t catch them before the snows.’

‘That’s awfully generous of you.’

‘Generosity is not what motivates me. I have a wife and two daughters, and I’ll be fucked if they end up like all those other poor souls.’

Jurgen led his horse to the inn’s stables after he was shown to his room. He did not have to sleep in the common room but got a separate space. Even though there were few guests Jurgen was still relieved, he did not have many fond memories of inn common rooms. He removed his sword and a copy of Adelman’s Bestiary from his horse and returned to his chamber.It was midnight when Jurgen heard the thumping of hooves and cursing outside that sounded dwarvish. Without hesitating Jurgen dressed and grabbed his sword. Larson, and Jan, still wielding his unfired crossbow, were halfway across the hallway when Jurgen barged out of his room.

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‘T-they’re here Jurgen! They are going to attack the village please stop them!’ Larson said out of breath.

‘Find your wife and daughters and hide. Jan hand me the crossbow. If I don’t come back, flee and find the captain.’

Outside three dwarves with torches in their hands were arguing with two dwarves on horses. It was in dwarvish, not in the language of the dwarves of Haggrum but in the southern dwarven tongue. Folker understood most of it and from the tone of their voice gathered they were quite drunk.

‘Hwar istentud dwach!’ yelled one of the dwarves from his horse.

Jurgen did not answer, instead aiming the crossbow at one of the mounted dwarves. He could see the dwarves clearly thanks to the moon and torchlight. They had braided black hair and beards adorned with golden rings. Over their chainmail they wore colourful fabrics, blue red, orange, purple and green. They looked odd and out of place in the rainy Kirrinan village. The dwarf was still shouting at Jurgen. Jurgen took a deep breathe and shot the yelling dwarf in his face between the eyes and threw aside the crossbow to unsheathe his sword. ‘That’s one’ Jurgen thought.

Though they seemed quite shaken the dwarves quickly reached for their weapons: axes, swords and clubs. The other mounted dwarf charged Jurgen with a spear in hand. Jurgen did not flinch nor run away from the charging horse, he wanted to kill. As the rider got closer and closer Jurgen could see the dwarf was ill at ease in the saddle. The dwarf clumsily jabbed his spear hoping to draw blood, yet he struck nothing but air. Jurgen ducked under the dwarven spear and like lightning sprang up again with his sword. If it were a human in the saddle the blade would have cut across the chest of the rider yet for the dwarf the steel slashed through his beard and cut his throat to the bone. Blood splattered Jurgen in passing as the horse charged on. With a hoarse croak the dwarf fell from the saddle, gargling up blood the dwarf perished in the mud. ‘That makes two.’

The remaining dwarves were now yelling angrily at Jurgen but hesitated to come closer. Finally, they came at Jurgen trying to surround him. Jurgen attacked first however lunging at the dwarf coming from his front. His sword clashed with steel the first time but with the second swing he found flesh, slashing the dwarf across his face. With an almost inhumanly quick turn Jurgen parried the blows of the two other dwarves rushing towards him. Jurgen counterattacked, with a quick swing of his sword the belly of one dwarf was rented open leaving the dwarf clutching his guts on the ground. Jurgen hacked at the hands of the second dwarf taking of several fingers. With a high-pitched scream, the dwarf dropped his axe and with a swift kick to the chest Jurgen forced him to the ground. Jurgen hit the still screaming dwarf repeatedly in the face with his sword pommel, breaking his nose and knocking out teeth.

‘Sthop, please sthop.’ The dwarf hissed through his remaining teeth.

‘Where is the rest of your gang.’ Jurgen growled angrily.

‘Thfuck you.’ He spit back.

Jurgen threw aside his sword, looked at the dwarf, despite his beard the fear in his eyes made him look young. Jurgen hesitated for a moment but then remembered the hanged man and his stumped legs. He grabbed the dwarf’s right leg and twisted it powerfully. The dwarf howled in pain.

‘Now you won’t run.’

Jurgen left the howling dwarf and walked back to the inn.

‘Larson! Jan! Where are you!’

With a slight creak the kitchen door opened. Larson and Jan, visibly frightened by Jurgen’s bloodied jerkin, emerged along with three other faces. They were Larson’s wife and daughters.

‘W-what happened, have they gone?’ Larson asked

‘In a sense.’ Jurgen said

‘Who’s howling outside?’

‘I need rope and a shovel.’

‘F-for what.’

‘The rope for the howling one and a shovel for the rest.’

‘You left one alive!?’

‘For information. I’ll tie him up and bring him to the captain.’

‘But the rest of the gang! They’ll want to free him! They’ll want revenge not only on you but on us!’

Jurgen paused for a moment.

‘You have a point there.’ He began after a silence. ‘I’ll have to interrogate him here then but while I do that one of you must take my horse and ride to inform the imperials’

‘One of the Plat boys can do that they were stable boys back when lord Gregor still ruled from Blumburg, I can wake them right now if they aren’t awake already.’ Said Jan

‘Do that.’ Jurgen said curtly. ‘Larson follow me, we have a captive to tend to.’

The dwarf was still lying in the mud cursing. Several of the other villagers were looking on from a distance.

‘Everyone clear off! Larson will explain in the morning what happened!’ Jurgen said to them. The few villagers returned startled back to their huts. After a couple of kicks and punches Larson and Jurgen managed to tie up the struggling dwarf. As they dragged him to the stable of the inn Jurgen’s horse with a young man on its back rode quickly passed them. They tied the dwarf to a post in the stable, put a gag in his mouth and once again left for their beds. Jurgen did not sleep, however. He began perusing the copy of Adelman’s bestiary that he had taken with him. It was a book full of useful information for one who spends most of his time in the wild. Unfortunately, Adelman was not a man of progressive ideas. On the contrary, in his magnum opus that was his bestiary Adelman classified dwarves as beasts. But Adelman being the diligent scholar that he was did give an extensive description of the cultures and habits of both the dwarves from Haggrum and the southern dwarves which were pieces of information Jurgen could make use of. One of these pieces of information being that the male beard had significant religious and societal importance in southern dwarven society.

The red sunrise brought a foggy morning with it. Jurgen ate a quick breakfast of dried meat and hard tack in his room then he walked to the stable dagger in hand. The dwarf was still tied up with a bloodied face and a broken leg.

‘Good morning, my dwarven friend.’ Jurgen greeted as he pulled out the gag from the dwarf’s mouth.

‘Bletwe kartz.’ He moaned hoarsely.

Jurgen kneeled down to the dwarf’s level, grabbing a hold of his beard and putting his dagger against it.

‘Here is what’s going to happen, you are going to tell me where your friends are, or I am going to cut off your precious beard.’

The eyes of the dwarf widened at Jurgen’s words as he tried his hardest to struggle away from Jurgen’s iron grip. To no avail.

‘Phlease, phlease I will tell you everything.’ The dwarf squealed after a while.

‘Where is the hideout.’

‘There are setheral, but I know whith one they are in now. It’s an abandoned mineshaftht three miles north of here. Now Pleathe put the knithe away.’

‘Thank you, very much.’ Jurgen stuck the knife in the dwarf’s throat and within seconds he was dead. Jurgen cut the dwarf free, took a shovel from the stable and dragged the dwarf outside the palisade surrounding Wateren so that he could bury him, and his comrades who were still lying dead in the mud. Jurgen had just dug the third grave when Larson found him.

‘You already killed him?’ Larson asked holding a shovel in his hand.

‘I did.’ Jurgen replied.

‘Learn anything useful.’

‘Very. When our friend Maecktian friends get here those dwarves won’t be a problem for long.’

‘That is good to hear. I can finally rest easy.’

‘Not yet. When the captain gets here, I’d ask him to leave some soldiers behind for protection.’

‘I will. You need help digging?’

‘No, get back to your family Larson they need you more than I need you.’

‘Thank you Jurgen.’

Jurgen did not answer him. Killing was nothing to be thankful for. He merely wanted his payment and get back on the path.

Jurgen finished digging at noon. Wiping the sweat from his brow he returned to the inn for a drink. Before he even opened the door however he heard the thundering of hooves heralding the arrival of the captain and his men. Jurgen was the first to greet them.

‘Good day Jurgen.’ Said the captain. ‘Only a day has past and already you have proven your worth. Where is the captive?’

‘In the ground along with his friends, no need to morn his loss though he already told me their hideout, a mineshaft three miles north from here.’

‘The mineshaft north of here, my men know the place. You’ve done excellent work and have more than deserved your reward.’ He threw Jurgen a pouch of gulden ‘for finding the hideout’ He then threw another one ‘and for killing those midgets. Me and my boys will take it from here. Good luck on the path.’

‘Same to you.’ Replied Jurgen and the captain rode off with his men. Before they left the palisade however Larson stopped them and requested some troops be left behind to protect the village.

‘I see no need for that Larson.’ The captain said. ‘The midgets don’t know what happened to their comrades yet and we’ll have killed them before they do. Besides if worst comes to worst you have a seasoned bounty hunter staying at your inn.’ And with those words the captain and his men left Dalleren.

Luckily that was the end of it. In the evening of that day Captain Klaas and his men returned to Dalleren with seven dwarven and three human heads hanging from their horses. They were carrying two Maecktian corpses as well, it had not been a fully clean raid. The captain told Jurgen about the fight. They had taken the bandits by surprise and killed most of them with crossbows in the first phase of the engagement. One of the dwarves and a human had still managed to kill the two Maecktians with a return folly of a throwing axe and a javelin however. The Captain seemed sorrowful about the loss. After finishing his account he bid Jurgen farewell and headed back to his garrison in the ruins of Blumburg. Early in the morning of the next day Jurgen also left Dalleren, in search of another contract before winter.