I can’t stand being startled awake. Sleep seems to evade me most days, so much that I just got used to being tired. You can imagine that when I do get a night’s rest, it’s like a blessing. This morning was one of those rare times where I could sleep comfortably. That’s when I felt a rush through my body and I jolted up in a panic, a hand had firmly gripped the collar of my shirt and shook me out of my sleep. My first instinct was to decapitate whoever disturbed me, but when I reached for my sword all I got was a tuft of straw. Why am I on a pile of straw? Oh yeah, I recognize the smell of this place; I’m in the stables.

I’m not proud to admit this isn’t the first time I've woken up here, Jocham would stow me in the stables connected to his inn on nights where I couldn’t pay for a room. Jocham looked at least fifty, he was skinny but had strong arms and the rough hands of a tradesman. He had salt and pepper hair, cut short and a neatly trimmed mustache. While Jocham looked like a well groomed fellow, I was more or less the opposite. My hair was a typical brown color, my most unique physical trait was my family’s ocean blue eyes. When you’re on the road your hair tends to grow out; mine was a tangled mess that covered my eyes when the wind blew. It was almost reaching my shoulders when I arrived in Thorneglade and got my last haircut, now it’s a bit past my ears.

I stood taller than Jocham, at a bit under six feet tall. I’m not the largest man in terms of muscle, but I’m athletic enough to hunt monsters for a living. I have the body type you’d expect from someone in my profession; scars included.

Jocham was a retired soldier who had the money to open up a tavern; The Sightly Gorgon. He ran the place himself, as he didn’t have a wife or kids to help around. He worked as the bartender, a job that didn’t really seem to fit him. He wasn’t very sociable or even friendly. Still, in the few weeks I’ve known him he’s never kicked me onto the street even when he had excuses to. He might not like me very much, but he’s shown in his own way that he cares for people.

“Up and at ‘em Cassian.” He grumbled, his voice was especially gravely in the mornings.

“What’d I do this time?” I asked in a daze, half expecting a drunken horror story.

Don’t peg me as an alcoholic just yet. I’m not a heavy or constant drinker, booze just gets me drunk easily. Last night was a bit of a blur, I was just hoping I didn’t overestimate my tolerance for drinks and cause trouble.

“Nothing this time.” Jocham said, as he leaned against a barn fence. “Someone asked about you this morning. Looking to hire you for a job.”

I leaned forward at the mention of that, triggering a flash of pain in my head. Yeah, that’s a hangover. I winced and drew in a breath.

“Seriously? Are you pulling my leg?” I asked while rubbing my temple.

I found Jocham’s story hard to believe because I’m not a well known guy. People just don’t come to me for work, if I’m lucky someone notices my sword and asks to help with a local bandit problem. More often than not I have to go and find work myself by picking up the scraps left behind by the ‘renowned mercenary guild’ The Mystic Watch . You’d think I’d be excited at someone asking for me specifically, but I couldn’t help but feel suspicious. There’s a lot of people who’d like to see my head removed from my body, maybe they caught up to me? Could I even afford to pass up the opportunity?

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“You think me the type to pull your leg Cassian?” Jocham made a fair point. “A man younger than you came in alone, hiding his limp with a cane. He wasn’t from ‘round here, but he asked for you - well, actually said The Drifter - told me his name was Alistair.”

Ah, ‘The Drifter’. Sounds about right. The Drifter was an alias, or you could say an insult, that I got from a member of The Mystic Watch shortly after I left. See members of The Watch typically are stationed at a location and only operate within that boundary. I didn’t have that luxury so I traveled from place to place. Some members of The Watch really didn’t like that, they saw it as me snatching their contracts from under them. Hence the name.

Sensing my hesitation perhaps, he added; “If it sweetens the deal for you, he’s definitely wealthy.”

Oh, it definitely did. I had my misgivings about all of this, but I decided to do the job because Jocham felt it was safe enough to mention it to me. Bartenders and monster hunters have very little in common, but the best in both our professions know how to read people. You don’t thrive without being able to tell a good customer from a bad one. Jocham wasn’t chatty and his drinks weren’t anything special but he had a good eye for people. He knew bad company the moment it stepped inside his establishment. Jocham decided at some point that I wasn’t bad company, and that was a comforting feeling. I decided to trust his instincts.

“Okay I’ll find him, He mention what he wants?” I inquired, after a moment to think it over.

“Only said he wanted to talk face to face. Wants you to meet him at The Velvet Vineyard.” Jocham said, and proceeded to walk out of the stables and into the tavern. “Breakfast is on me. You can pay me back when you finish the job.”

“I’ll be right behind you, got to get my things together.” I called back to him.

Jocham was smart to move my weapon away before disturbing me mid-sleep. That weapon happened to be a sword, more specifically a falchion. It was a lightweight, one handed weapon suited for quick slashing attacks. It wasn’t the fanciest or most complex blade a man could carry, but for a monster hunter on a budget it suited me well. It was leaned against a wall, and next to it were the rest of the tools of my trade.

My armor was patchwork; a mix of cloth, chain mail and leathers. At one point it was a full body set, but buying armor isn’t the hard part - upkeep is. After a nasty fight my armor would be damaged, and soon it simply became easier to focus on a few vital areas. Arms, chest, stomach, crotch and knees were covered but the rest? Eh I get good at ducking. On top of my chest piece was a bandolier that went over my shoulder and around my waist like a belt. It had pouches for alchemical ingredients and tools for the road, as well as a small hand crossbow I could easily grab with my offhand. It came in handy during tight situations. Lastly there’s my black trench coat, usually I tell people it’s to protect my gear from the weather but it’s just as much to hide it from common folk. It’s better to not scare people.

Putting my armor on and getting everything together takes me about ten minutes, when I was done I could smell food waiting for me and shuffled out the barn to fill my gut before the long day ahead of me.