Eric sat high in the boughs of a tree, idly munching on a meat bun. He’d purchased four of them from the Market before heading out to the forest, at a very reasonable two copper apiece. It really was tasty, he thought, allowing his eyes to scan the area in front of him. The trees were much thinner on the edge of the forest, allowing him to see much further than if he’d waited in the heart of the dark woods.

He could tell that the Dagorra Forest was an ancient place, even if he hadn’t suspected it to be the home of some old magic. It was said that the God of Nature made his home in these woods, in a clearing at the center. The Druid covens that lived between the trees were all his followers, keeping the animals healthy and warding off nefarious intruders. It was rumored that Grimr’s druids worked with Milagrean soldiers to hand over criminals who attempted to hide here.

If that was true, Eric thought with a snort, then the bounty for Michael Ciayol wouldn’t have been posted. Or perhaps it was true, and the man just excelled at staying hidden. He was a metalworker, but the age of the bounty suggested that he had some experience with avoiding detection in a forest. Maybe he’d served some time as a ranger, Eric thought, finishing the meat bun and wiping his hands clean on his black breeches.

He’d stopped by the Queen’s Guard garrison to ask after the bounty, and seek out any useful information they could give him. Not much was known about the man apart from his shop and business, and that he belonged to one of the less important branches of the Ciayol family. Eric had tried to wrap his head around why a member of the royal family would operate a normal shop, but remembering Emma’s explanation, he decided he couldn’t be too important. There were hundreds of thousands of Ciayols scattered throughout the countryside. Bora Bora had lived about five hundred years ago, after all.

One useful tidbit he’d been given was how often the man had been spotted in Milagre itself. The sightings, unconfirmed of course, were always in the hours between sunset and dawn, when the sky was the darkest, and the guards were the least common on the streets. That had greatly interested Eric. Why would a man wanted for murder routinely sneak into the Capital city? There could only be one answer in Eric’s mind. He needed food. He might be good at living it rough in the forest, but even he wouldn’t risk the anger of the druids by killing an animal here.

Furthermore, the reports had been regular, occurring almost once a week. There were gaps, evidently where he wasn’t spotted, but when there were repeated sightings, it always followed the same pattern. Every week, on Banal, the final day, Ciayol could be expected to leave the forest and make his way to Milagre. So Eric had taken up his post here, roughly twenty feet off the ground, and settled to wait. He was sure that Ciayol would make an appearance, as this was the only viable and safe track to the capital.

It was just as the second moon began rising in the sky that the man appeared. Eric sensed him before he saw him, and went absolutely still. He peered around the forest floor, and spotted a dark shape moving just a few yards from his tree. He moved in a stoop, though unburdened, and seemed to be limping slightly. Eric held his breath and activated Hide, feeling him fade from the notice of creatures nearby.

Down on the ground, Michael Ciayol froze in place as the sound of the creatures near him changed slightly. He cast a nervous glance in all directions around him, clearly thinking that an unfriendly presence was nearby. Eric could almost imagine his thoughts. Was it an animal predator, or a human one? The tense moment seemed to stretch into several minutes as Ciayol scoured his surroundings. He didn’t look up, however, which was a blessing to Eric, who would have stood out at once. Finally, Ciayol seemed to think he’d imagined it, and continued on.

Letting out a silent sigh of relief, Eric waited for the man to advance a few more yards, then carefully withdrew the vial of yellow liquid from his pack. He unstoppered it and withdrew the small brush, coated with the viscous poison. Unsheathing his smaller blade, he applied a generous coating to the edge, then slid the knife back home. After taking a moment to store the bottle, he began making his slow way down the trunk of the massive tree.

The going was quick and easy at first, given how many branches he had to choose from as he descended. He reflected with a grim sense of humor how much trickier it was to go down rather than up, as he had to keep his speed in mind. Go too fast, and he’d miss a foothold, then fall to the forest floor below. It wasn’t that great of a drop, but he felt certain it would cause some damage. Once he was within ten feet, he risked the noise, and let himself drop, rolling to absorb the shock. It was surprisingly easy.

Now that he was down safely, he drew the knife once more. It didn’t appear to have smeared too badly, and the weapon still had a decent coating. He gripped it firmly in his left hand, and moved in a quick but quiet jog to catch up with Ciayol. His goal was to let the man fully leave the trees, leaving only the open plains before Milagre as his temporary battleground. He didn’t want to risk his target escaping into the trees, and being closer would make the return easy if he succeeded. When he succeeded, he told himself firmly.

It took perhaps ten minutes for him to catch up, as Ciayol had evidently broken into a jog once he’d left the trees, forcing Eric to pick up his own pace. He finally caught sight of him just as Milagre was coming into view, and cursed quietly. He wanted to avoid fighting within the city itself, as they could be interrupted. Abandoning stealth altogether, he picked up his pace again, sprinting flat-out to close the distance between them.

Ciayol turned as he came within ten meters, curiously looking for the source of the sound of running feet. Seeing the armed figure barreling towards him, he let out a shout of shock and started to move faster himself. He was fast, but not fast enough, and they both could tell that Eric would catch up in seconds. Cursing fluently, Ciayol stopped running, yanking out a dagger from his belt and turning to face Eric. His change in action was so fast that Eric was caught off-guard, and nearly got cut for his haste. As it was, he threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the small sharp blade.

He rolled once, then was back on his feet, drawing his other sword with his right hand. He moved in a wide circle to position himself between his bounty and the city, only three or four hundred yards away now. Then he started inching forward. Ciayol held his ground, pulling out another, slightly smaller dagger. He was able to make out more of Eric’s appearance now and was clearly wary of an armed opponent. Eric supposed that his only confrontations so far had been with normal civilians, and that he’d taken pains to avoid any armed figures. Well, he thought with a grin, today just wasn’t his day.

He took a quick step forward and jabbed out with his long sword. Taken by surprise, Ciayol still managed to parry the strike to the side, and moved in to strike himself. One of the daggers came down quickly, but Eric sidestepped the blow, casually reaching out and striking the man’s face with the back of his glove. Fighting with Ehran Tokugawa seemed to have made him more aware of his movement in combat, and he had less wasted movement now. He wasn’t stronger per se, but he was definitely getting used to moving his body in combat.

Michael staggered from the blow, and Eric’s smaller blade flashed out, but missed by centimeters, only scoring a shallow cut in the man’s tunic. Eric withdrew his blade just in time to parry another dagger cut with his longer blade. He frowned in concentration, not having expected to face two weapons. It was harder to get inside his guard with another weapon to contend with.

Switching up his tactics, he dropped the long sword and switched the dagger to his right hand. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the casual movements that Ehran had used to grapple and redirect the men on the training field. He wasn’t sure if he could achieve the same results with no practice, but it was worth a try. He waited, balanced on the balls of his feet, waiting for Ciayol to attack again. Here he came.

Ciayol lunged, the left arm thrusting its dagger out with clumsy speed. Eric leaned to the side, letting the arm flash past, then seized the wrist. With a firm squeeze and a twist, Ciayol was forced to drop the knife in his left hand. Cursing in pain, he brought his right hand around, and cut Eric across the chest, creating a shallow wound. Eric gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the pain, and slammed his head into the man’s. It hurt him a little, but it was much worse for Ciayol, who had no protective headgear.

Nice, he thought, taking a step forward as Ciayol staggered away, clutching his nose. The man swung his knife again, and Eric jumped to the side. Then he kicked out, catching him high in the chest, sending him flying onto his back. He was on him in a flash before he could regain his feet, pinning his arms and cutting lightly with his knife. The effect was almost instantaneous, and Ciayol’s struggles faded to nothing as he was paralyzed, his open eyes staring up at the moonlit sky.

That was easier than expected, Eric thought, getting off of the man and digging in his belt pouch for the restraints he’d bought earlier that day. They were cheap, only costing him a silver, and were made of leather. They affixed themselves to the thumbs of both hands, and when he pulled the little loop tight, Ciayol gave a strangled grunt of pain. He had no restraints for the man’s legs, but that didn’t matter. 

He heaved the man onto his shoulder, grumbling with effort and wrinkling his nose. His bounty smelled like he hadn’t bathed in years. Shifting him slightly so that he had some cleaner air to breathe, Eric started walking towards the city gates. He was slowed a little by the burden of the unconscious man, but it wasn’t too troublesome. Samuel was right, he had a pretty strong body.

The guards posted at the eastern gate goggled as Eric approached carrying Ciayol. He couldn’t blame them. Seeing an armed man carrying another, restrained and seeming unconscious, could hardly look anything but suspicious. Indeed, one man moved forward at once, hefting his pike and looking determined. Once Eric was within a few feet, he stopped and leveled the weapon.

“Drop that man now!” He commanded, the gleaming point of his pike reinforcing his wavering voice. As Eric hesitated, he repeated the command. “Now! And step away!”

Seeing no reason to risk attack, Eric complied. Ciayol hit the grassy side of the path with another muffled grunt, and Eric raised both of his hands as he stepped a few feet away. The guard made no attempt to free his bounty, but kept the weapon pointed at him. 

“This man has an active bounty for his capture,” Eric said, taking a step back. “I can show you the bounty, if you want.”

The guard hesitated a moment, staring suspiciously. Then, he said slowly. “Alright then, let’s see it.”

Eric fished out the folded bounty, inwardly thankful that he’d actually taken the paper with him. He held it out for the guard to inspect, holding his breath and staying perfectly still as the bounty was examined. Realization seemed to dawn on the man’s face, and he immediately lowered his pike.

“Sorry,” he said. “You just started me. Well then, take him in and to the gaol. You can collect the bounty there.”