CHAPTER 4

JIM THE BUTCHER

As Mark rode his white horse along the dirt road, he spotted a wooden board with a paper sign attached. Curious, he rode closer and read the message. It offered forty golden coins as a reward for anyone who could bring the head of Jim the Butcher. The note mentioned that the notorious killer was last seen in a village just north of there. Accompanying the letter was a sketch of Jim, a scruffy-looking young man. Mark grinned. This was a task suited for him.

Mark made his way to the village to gather information about Jim. It was a typical farming village, much like the ones he had visited in the previous weeks. The villagers appeared impoverished – they weren’t the ones who had offered the bounty, but rather the local Baron. Mark dismounted his horse and headed towards the local inn. As he entered, the room fell silent and all eyes turned towards him. Mark approached the innkeeper and tossed him a coin. "I'll have a cold beer and any information you have on Jim," he requested.

The innkeeper brought him a cold beer and began to speak. "Here's your beer. As for that Jim fella, he murdered a poor lad and stole his horse. Last we saw him, he was galloping north into the woods."

"Into the woods, huh?" Mark pondered aloud. "He couldn't have gone far then. The woods aren't exactly ideal for galloping."

Mark downed the beer in one swift gulp before stepping outside. He mounted his horse and rode north until he reached the forest's edge. Knowing the dense woods weren't ideal for galloping, he dismounted and proceeded on foot, leading his horse by its reins. Mark scanned the ground for any signs of footsteps or hoofprints, suspecting few had ventured into these woods. Spotting tracks, both human and animal, he followed them deeper into the forest.

The forest was thick with vegetation, casting shadows that made it seem dark and mysterious even in broad daylight. Undeterred, Mark pressed on, following the tracks deeper into the woods. Nearly an hour later, he spotted a man resting on the forest floor beside a brown horse. The man's face matched the drawing on the wooden board – it was unmistakably Jim the Butcher.

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Drawing his sword, Mark approached cautiously. Suddenly, Jim hurled three knives at him. Mark swiftly dodged the first knife and skillfully deflected the second with a swift motion of his blade, but the third knife grazed his cheek, drawing blood. Jim's cunning was evident – he had feigned rest to ambush Mark with surprising speed.

"Not bad," Mark grudgingly admitted. He lunged at Jim, who scrambled to his feet and hurled more knives. Mark dodged with agility, closing in on Jim. Jim grabbed a wooden axe from the ground just in time to block Mark's attack. Their weapons collided with a loud clang, the sound echoing through the forest.

Jim swung his axe wildly at Mark, aiming to overpower him with sheer force. Mark struggled to block the relentless attacks, being forced backward until he fell onto the forest floor. As Jim aimed a downward slash at Mark's face, he rolled to the right, narrowly escaping the axe. Rising to his feet, Mark retaliated by slicing off Jim's hand. A scream echoed through the forest as the hand, still clutching the axe, tumbled to the ground, blood spurting from the wound. Defenseless, Jim begged for mercy, but Mark swiftly ended him with a decapitating blow.

With Jim’s severed head dangling from his belt as evidence, Mark emerged from the forest, leading his horse by the reins. Once beyond the woods, he spurred his horse forward on the dirt road leading to Baron Nikos's castle. Upon reaching the castle gates, the guards halted him.

"Is that a human head?" one guard exclaimed.

"Yeah," Mark replied casually. "It's Jim the Butcher's head. I'm here to claim the bounty."

The guards allowed Mark entry and escorted him to the main hall. It was rather unimpressive, just a spacious wooden room with a throne where Baron Nikos sat, looking bored.

"You've brought the Butcher's head?" Nikos inquired.

"Sure did," Mark tossed the head at Nikos's feet. "Now, where's my reward?"

Nikos murmured to one of his guards, who then tossed a pouch of golden coins to Mark.

"If you have more bounties, I'm up for the task," Mark said.

"We have no further need for your services at the moment," Nikos replied. "But perhaps you should consider joining the Archon's military. He's in a war against Archon Innokentios and could use skilled fighters like you."

"Nah, I prefer working solo.”

"Shame," Nikos said. "Archon Anthemios offers hefty pay for mercenaries."

"Sounds like trouble brewing on the battlefield," Mark remarked.

Nikos sighed. "Honestly, word has it that it's been a brutal standstill. Three times the Archons' armies clashed in the Estharian grasslands, and not once did either side come out on top. But with your talents, you could rake in some serious coin."

“Nah. Military life ain’t for me. Since you have no work for me, I'll be on my way."

And so, Mark resumed his journey on the road. For a wanderer's life is to always be on the move, always traveling.