Paragon of Destruction

Arran followed the steward with some curiosity, a friendly smile on his face as they made small talk while crossing Esran’s crowded streets.

That the man intended to trick him, he knew for certain. While the steward’s oily smiles and flattering words might have worked on someone more trusting, years of peril had taught Arran to always be vigilant.

But in this case, there was no real danger. The steward was expecting to rob a hapless traveler, not someone with strength like Arran’s.

"Your accent," the man asked as they made their way past the crowds, "is it imperial?"

"You have a good ear," Arran replied. "It’s true, I grew up in the Empire."

"It’s rare to meet imperials in these lands," the steward said. "Few people are willing to forgo the safety the Empire offers. What brought you here?"

He gave Arran an appraising look as he spoke, and Arran surmised that the man was trying to glean how dangerous his intended victim would be.

"I made some enemies in the Empire," Arran responded. "After I traveled to the borderlands, I spent several years working as a mercenary in the south. But when I heard about the Hunters, I figured they might have use for my talents."

It was as clear a warning as Arran would give the man. If the steward was smart, he’d catch the hint, and abandon whatever he had planned. And if he wasn’t, he would only have himself to blame for the outcome.

Yet if the steward felt any hesitation, he showed no sign of it. Instead, he merely nodded thoughtfully, then said with an unconvincing laugh, "I can’t imagine traveling that far, myself. I get anxious just visiting the nearest town."

Arran understood that the steward had some sort of trick up his sleeve. If the man was willing to continue with his plan despite knowing his intended victim was a hardened mercenary, then he had stronger backing than just the two city guards who accompanied them.

Still, Arran wasn’t worried. He doubted there was even a single person in the city who posed a threat to him. And if there was, they certainly wouldn’t waste their time robbing travelers.

And so, he followed the steward without complaint or hesitation — not even when they reached a quieter area of the city, filled with craftsman’s workshops and large stone warehouses.

The steward came to a halt in front of one of these warehouses, then turned to face Arran. "My business partner is waiting inside," he said. "With his help, we’ll get you out of the city within a day or two."

Arran nodded, then followed the steward inside. His Sense had already told him someone was waiting within the warehouse — a single man, tall and muscular, with a sword at his side.

As they entered the building, the two guards followed behind them and closed the door. And even with his back turned, Arran knew they were reaching for their swords.

Yet he paid them no mind. Even if they struck him, they were only commoners — far too weak to injure him even if he ignored them entirely.

The man ahead, however, was a Body Refiner. And even as the door to the warehouse closed, he drew his sword and attacked, raising his sword to strike with all his might.

Arran effortlessly caught the blade in his left hand. And with his right, he struck his opponent in the face.

The man was a Body Refiner, but compared to Arran, he might as well have been a commoner. He didn’t even have the time to look shocked before Arran’s fist crashed into his face and his lifeless body collapsed to the ground. Moments later, he was joined by the two guards.

Arran sighed, then turned to the steward, who was looking at him with wide-eyed shock, frozen in panic at the scene he’d just witnessed.

"I didn’t know—" the man began, his voice trembling with fear.

"Shut up," Arran interrupted him. "I have no interest in excuses or apologies. Despite your treachery, I still need to get into the Hunters’ lands. Can you help me with that, or not?"

The man looked at Arran with fearful eyes. Yet after a moment, he nodded, then said, "I can. It will take a few days, but I can make good on my word if you give me a chance."

Arran gave the man a look, then shook his head. Something about the steward’s expression told him that the man still had not given up on the idea of treachery.

"I think you still don’t understand," he said. "Whether you return with ten guards or a hundred, it doesn’t matter. They will all die. And after that, both you and your family will suffer the same fate. Your only way out of this is to give me what I came for."

Arran had no intention of harming the man’s family, but it couldn’t hurt to give his threat some additional weight. And it seemed that this time, the threat worked.

The steward reached into his coat and produced a small black amulet, which he handed to Arran.

"This is my personal seal," he said, his expression flat. "The people allowed to travel into the Hunters’ lands leave every day at sunrise. If you show this to the guard captain, he’ll let you join them." He hesitated, then added, "But please, don’t harm my family."

Arran smiled wryly. "If you haven’t lied to me, your family is safe." He reached for his coin purse and retrieved a fistful of gold. "And here’s your payment."

The man accepted the gold with a puzzled look on his face, but he did not dare object to the gift. "Thank you," he said instead, though he glanced at his fallen companions as he spoke.

"I suggest you don’t speak of this to anyone," Arran said. "If you do, there will be consequences."

In truth, he didn’t worry about anyone discovering what had happened in the warehouse. He did not intend to hide the fact that he was a Body Refiner when he entered the Hunter’s lands, only the true extent of his power.

But still, it was a good idea to avoid any unnecessary attention.

The steward nodded, sincerity written across his pale face as he gazed at Arran. "No one will know."

"Good," Arran replied. "Now then, I’ll return to the inn. I hope for your sake that we don’t have to meet again."

Without waiting for a reply, he exited the warehouse, then began to head back to the inn. And as he made his way through Esran’s dirty streets, he could not help but be relieved that he would be leaving the next day.

When he arrived at the inn, the innkeeper looked at him with a puzzled expression. Clearly, the man had not expected him to return.

"Thank you for your help," Arran said, a friendly smile on his face as he spoke. He handed the man a few pieces of gold from his coin purse, then added, "Your brother-in-law proved most useful."

The innkeeper nodded silently, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

Arran paid it no mind. Instead, he had the innkeeper guide him to his room immediately. He would be leaving early the next day, and he wouldn’t forgo the chance to get a good night’s rest before he departed.

Before he fell asleep, he could not help but smile in satisfaction. All considered, it had been a day well-spent.

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