The Bounty Hunter

Adrian's heart hammered in his chest as he stared at the man standing in the doorway.

From his clothes and the sword by his side, Adrian recognized him immediately.

A bounty hunter.

His mind raced.

How had he been found now, of all times?

Was it because of the Templar Order's investigation? No—their search should have taken longer to uncover his real identity.

Then, was it something else?

It didn't matter. Not now.

Right now, he had to focus. He needed a way out.

The bounty hunter stepped forward, the door clicking shut behind him. His boots scraped softly against the wooden floor, each step deliberate, menacing. "I've been looking for you for months," he said, his voice low and laced with threat. "And here you are, living a comfortable life."

Adrian forced himself to remain calm, though his thoughts spiraled. "You've got the wrong man," he said evenly. "My name is Luke. I'm just a scribe."

The hunter's lips curled into a faint smirk, as if the lie amused him. "Nice try."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a crumpled parchment, unfolding it with deliberate slowness. Holding it up, he revealed a bounty poster. The crude ink sketch bore an uncanny resemblance to Adrian.

Adrian's breath hitched. His pulse quickened, but he kept his face impassive. The hunter studied him, his smirk widening. "Still think I've got the wrong person?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

Adrian's mind spun. Lying was futile now. He needed a plan—fast. The Templars might still be watching the shop. Any disturbance could draw their attention, but he doubted they'd side with him. More likely, they'd hand him over to the hunter.

Swallowing hard, Adrian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Wait," he said quickly, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his throat. "There's a price on my head, but I can offer you money—more than what the baron is paying."

The hunter's smirk deepened. His hand hovered over the hilt of his blade. "I don't make deals with criminals."

Adrian's mind raced for a way to escape. The hunter blocked the only exit, and without a weapon, fighting was suicide. His eyes flicked toward the back door, but the hunter was already closing the distance. Any sudden move would provoke him. Adrian had to keep him talking, buy himself a moment to think.

"Let's not make this harder than it needs to be," the hunter said, his voice a quiet, dangerous rumble. "Come with me quietly, and maybe I'll go easy on you. If not…" He left the threat hanging, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.

Adrian's eyes darted around the room, searching for anything he could use. The ledger on the desk, the ink bottle, the chair by the door—nothing substantial, but perhaps enough to buy himself time.

Adrian nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the heavy ink bottle on the desk. It wasn't much, but it was something. "Okay," he said, his voice calm despite the storm raging inside him. "I surrender."

The hunter raised an eyebrow, amused. "You're not even going to try to run?"

"Even if I did, it'd be pointless," Adrian replied, his tone resigned. "A bounty hunter like you must be at least third or second class. Without a weapon, I wouldn't stand a chance."

"Smart choice," the hunter said, stepping closer.

Adrian's movements were slow and deliberate. He reached down as if to move the ledger, but his fingers brushed the ink bottle instead. With no time to think, he grabbed it and hurled it in one swift motion.

Smash!

The bottle shattered against the hunter's face, ink splattering across his eyes. He cursed, staggering back as he wiped at his face, trying to clear his vision.

Adrian didn't hesitate. He bolted for the back door, shoving the wooden chair aside in his panic. His heart pounded as he fumbled with the latch.

Behind him, the hunter roared in fury. "You cowardly wretch!" The scrape of steel echoed through the room as the hunter drew his sword.

---

Adrian's heart thundered in his chest as he burst through the back door of the shop, the heavy wood slamming shut behind him. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as he sprinted down the narrow alley, the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the stone walls. But it wasn't long before another set of footsteps joined the cacophony—pounding, relentless, and growing louder with every second. The bounty hunter was chasing him.

Adrian tried to lose him, weaving through alleys and doubling back, but the man was relentless. If this continued, the hunter would catch him. Adrian glanced over his shoulder, his stomach tightening with dread. The hunter was closing the distance. He had to think quickly—he couldn't outrun him forever. His only hope was to disappear.

His eyes darted ahead, scanning the street for any opportunity. The people in the alley watched with wary eyes, but no one moved to intervene. They seemed to sense the danger but were unwilling to get involved.

For a fleeting moment, he considered seeking refuge with the Templars. Perhaps the church could offer sanctuary. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came. The Templars had no reason to protect him. If anything, they'd hand him over without a second thought.

Then, a thought came—the aqueducts. A labyrinth of tunnels hidden beneath the city, used by smugglers and thieves. If he could reach them, he might stand a chance. The aqueducts were a maze of waterlogged passages, pathways that twisted and turned beneath the city's foundations. It was his only hope.

Adrian's eyes scanned the ground as he ran, searching for an entrance. Finally, after searching for a while his gaze landed on a rusted manhole cover. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and yanked at the heavy iron disc. It screeched in protest, but with one final heave, it gave way. The sound of the hunter's footsteps was deafening now, just around the corner. Adrian didn't look back. He leaped into the darkness, yanking the manhole cover shut behind him with a grunt.

The moment his feet hit the damp stone floor of the aqueduct, a wave of relief washed over him. The air was cool and thick with the scent of mildew and stagnant water. The faint rush of flowing water echoed through the tunnels, a haunting symphony that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. Adrian paused for a moment, catching his breath, but he knew the respite wouldn't last. The hunter would come here soon. He had to keep moving.

He pushed forward, splashing through the shallow water that ran along the tunnel floor. The walls were slick with moisture, and the air was heavy, almost suffocating. The darkness pressed in around him, broken only by the faint glimmer of light filtering through cracks in the ceiling above. Adrian's mind raced as he navigated the twisting corridors, each turn taking him deeper into the labyrinth. He had no idea where he was going, but it didn't matter. As long as he stayed ahead of the hunter, there was still a chance.

Minutes turned to hours as Adrian pressed on, his body growing heavier with exhaustion. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his legs felt like lead, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't afford to. The sound of running water grew louder as he turned a corner, emerging into a wider tunnel. The walls were coated in moss. Adrian hesitated and looked around, his senses on high alert. He was lost, disoriented by the endless maze of tunnels.

But the footsteps behind him were no longer there. For a moment, he thought maybe he had lost the hunter. But before he could catch his breath, a new sound reached his ears—footsteps, but not the heavy, deliberate strides of the bounty hunter. These were lighter, and they were coming from ahead.

Adrian froze, his heart pounding in his chest. From the other side of the tunnel emerged a group of cloaked figures, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods. There were at least five of them, their movements silent and deliberate. Adrian's pulse quickened as they turned toward him, their gazes locking with his. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Who are they? What are they doing here? Smugglers? But their clothes... they didn't look like anything smugglers would wear. Adrian's mind raced as he tried to figure out who they were and what they were doing here.

Then without warning, one of the cloaked figures charged toward him with a speed that was almost unnatural. Adrian's mind barely had time to register the movement before the figure was on him. He caught only a flash of steel as the cloaked figure struck. He tried to pivot, to dodge, but his muscles screamed in protest.

The blade came down with lightning speed, cutting across Adrian's side. Pain flared through his body but his mind was still clear enough to realize what had just happened—he'd been struck. The figure's movement had been so fast, Adrian barely had time to react, his body sluggish in the face of the overwhelming speed. He staggered backward, his legs giving way beneath him as his balance faltered.

Adrian's vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as he leaned against the damp wall, struggling to stay on his feet. The figure advanced, its blade raised for another strike.

"Wait—" Adrian gasped, but his voice was lost in the hollow, damp tunnel. The figure didn't hesitate.

The blade arced toward him once more, and this time Adrian couldn't avoid it. The world twisted and turned as pain lanced through his body. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the cold, wet stone floor. His blood pooled around him, mixing with the water that flowed through the ancient tunnel.

As darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, Adrian's thoughts flickered—Why, after everything? Why do I have to die again? Why?

Then, the darkness swallowed him whole.