A Priceless Bounty

Chapter 2

Arthur visits a tavern in the dead middle of the night and orders a beverage, letting himself warm down from the harsh cold bites of winter. The place is mostly dim and empty, the candles trying their best not to fade out due to the occasional strong breeze coming from the small cracks in the window. There is a fireplace that sparks life nearby, making it feel homely and cozy. He subconsciously shivers, his teeth chattering. He finished his most recent mission alongside Rune and Francis which was to eliminate a thief that had been stealing precious artifacts throughout the kingdom. He didn't feel an ounce of guilt as Rune silently took the thief's life - after all, all they had to do was kill a criminal, so it was justified. Or that's what he's trying to convince himself. An elf barista brings him his beverage and Arthur thanks him. He takes a sip of the hot cocoa drink. 

It has been about six months since Arthur's encounter with Master.  Six months since his first mission with Rune and Francis. He has never felt this light and is genuinely happy with his life. Arthur has enough money for his family, and it can last them a couple of months. And most importantly, he has friends - like actual friends that didn't use him for their personal gains. Arthur almost bounces up and down just by thinking about it, feeling giddy. He almost wants to be grateful for being a bounty hunter - though taking the lives of others diminishes it by a bit. Arthur places his payment on the stool table and waves the barista off, burying himself further into his coat as he meets the bustling streets of The City of Swindon once again.

He prepares for his trek on his way home, his scarf fluttering in the wind when a sudden cry stops him in his tracks. The sound came from one of the dark alleyways. Arthur sighs as he shakes his head. He must have been imagining. 'But what if it's urgent?' his mind tells him otherwise. Arthur looks at the path towards his house, his home, and the alleyway. He chews on his cheeks. Can't hurt to check it out, can it? Arthur approaches it with trepidation, peering around. Near the heap of junk scattered on the ground, he can spot a figure leaning against the wall, clutching their stomach as they breathe heavily. Arthur presses his lips into a thin line. Someone needs their help, now. He rushes over to the person in need of great aid. The said person shuts his eyes tight, releasing ragged breaths. He slowly cracks an eye open to see a blurry figure coming near him. An alarm blares loudly in his head. He pushes the figure away from him albeit weakly, "Stay - away - from - me -" he hisses and suddenly doubles over as pain sears through him, his head pounding. 

Arthur retrieves his hand back. "But you need to get treatment, you're hurt," his face blanches as he catches the sight of crimson red on the patient's stomach. "You're losing too much blood -" The patient opens his mouth to retort before passing out, unable to endure the pain any longer. Arthur takes it as a cue to carry him on his back. 'He's unusually light,' Arthur notes. "Now, where can we take him to get treatment? He seems to be hiding his injury," he mutters. His brain lights up, already on the move towards a certain house he hasn't visited for a while.

He bangs on the door, yelling, "Rune? Francis? Is anyone home -" A disgruntled voice can be heard from the other side of the door. "Which imbecile decides to bang on our door in the middle of the night? -" Francis opens the door, only to meet Arthur panting in between. "Oh, it's you Arthur, what do you need at this hour? It's too late -" Arthur cuts him off. "I found someone injured and he needs help, as soon as possible," Francis shifts into serious mode as he lets them in, assisting Arthur. "Rune! We need your help!" Francis calls, urgently. Rune makes her way over from the bedroom, checking the patient. "Arthur, get him to lay down on the bed, Francis, prepare all the necessary tools and medications needed to treat him, we're going to have a long night."

 

The birds chirp meekly with the filter of sunlight hitting through the windows of a small cabin. The boy shifts in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. His nose twitches, catching a waft of smoke hovering over the room. He opens his eyes abruptly, alarmed at the sudden smell. He jumps out of the bed, stumbling as he lands. Erwin grumbles, still feeling a bit hazy. His throbbing headache doesn't help either. But when his bare feet touch the floor, he freezes. The floor creaks.