A Bounty Hunter's Bundle

The King and the Mission

Lincoln bowed low immediately, as he forced himself not to hang his head in shame. He didn't speak. He would speak when he was spoken to. King Katarin gave a heavy sigh, and got to his massive feet. He was older in age, but still every bit the warrior he used to be.

He had long, thick brown hair half way pulled back, and a greying beard. His eyes were a dark green, and he was very much like Valkyrie--massive, daunting, very capable of killing. "You failed me..." He boomed in almost a bored voice.

"I'm so sorry my lord," Lincoln replied, the hefty cut on his face stinging tremendously.

"That's why I hired help. Valkyrie have you met him?"

"Yes, but he doesn't think we are compatible and left abruptly this morning."

"He came to me to help, so I assure you he isn't going anywhere," Katarin replied his voice low and almost agonized as if this were the most boring conversation he had ever had.

"Am I to go after the man I failed to kill?"

"Not right now. It is time for you to go through some training. You skills lately have proved disappointing and only because you are my infamous Bounty Hunter, shall I grant you the right to be trained better." The king paused, "But if you are to keep failing me, you don't want to know what is going to happen."

"I understand my lord. I'm sorry my lord." Lincoln replied softly, to keep the anger from showing. This was possibly his third man he had ever let lived by accident. It wasn't like he was terrible.

"Until I deem you worthy of tracking down and trying to re-kill this man, you are going to train. Report to the reservation every day at dawn. Don't disappoint me," Katarin growled, then waved a hand in dismissal. He then strode out to his meet queen, a petite little thing.

Waiting until the king was fully gone Lincoln rose to his feet slowly. There were only the normal four guards posted and no one paid attention to him. They still feared him. And looked the other way as he prowled out--cape waving majestically, broad rimmed hat turning his face dark, and his sturdy cross bow strapped to his back.

The rest of the day, Lincoln went hunting and skinned animals. He made new arrows, sharpened his blades, and stitched and mended his trade mark clothing. Going into the market, he sold his furs, and bought himself some imported fruit. Valkyrie's blade hung heavily in his pocket and he found himself not being able to sell it after all.

That night, he did not return to Edna's inn. He headed to his small apartment in a rather clean little district. It was a surprising two bedroom, one bathroom little thing tucked away at the top of a warehouse. It was decorated to it's finest. Cozy. Warm. And full of spare weapons.

He pushed open his door with a groan, as a slight cramp hit him. "Oh you stupid fucking moron Lincoln, no more Edna's cheep beer," he swore at himself. He set his cross bow on the table, filled his fruit bowl then grabbed a two day old pastry, before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Tomorrow was not going to be fun especially if that jack-ass, Valkyrie was going to be his trainer. Lincoln scrubbed his starting to grim skin extra hard with the bar of soap. His hair, he cut short after washing it. The curls making a neat little pile on the floor.

When his hair had been trimmed short, he gingerly touched the jagged cut on his face. That started above his left brow, and dragged down his face, to near his mouth. It was red, but no longer swollen and burning. "Well at least it will leave a fierce scar," he muttered to himself. His face, though handsome, was way to friendly, and sweet.

With a snarl, he set his cutting knife down--he didn't need to shave today--and trudged out of the bathroom. His whole body was sore after that brutal encounter with his last target. Knowing how Valkyrie acted, he predicted that his already coated in scars body was going to become a lot more cut up.

"Least, though I'm smaller, I'll be nimble enough to best the bastard." Lincoln wanted nothing more than to stick an arrow right between Valkyrie's eyes. Though average height, he was very small compared to the beast of a warrior. His head was lucky if it came to Valkyrie's shoulder. And though really toned and fit, he was maybe half Valkyrie's width. "I'll need to bulk up more," he spit lethally, dressing in loose cloths and collapsing on his soft bed.

Tonight he would sleep. Tomorrow he would kill.