chapter 5 freedom
The scene around me is grim, and I'm at the center of it, standing among decapitated bodies strewn around the camp. A giant cauldron bubbles away before me, filled with heads. I methodically scrape the meat from the bones, ensuring I'll be left with only the skulls—keepsakes, trophies of my work.
"Please... just kill me already," a weak voice interrupts my task.
I glance over at the bandit I spared earlier—if you could call it that. His hand is gone, his legs shattered to make sure he doesnt run. I left him alive to practice new methods of pain and enjoy myself.
I turn to him, an innocent smile on my face. He freezes in terror, and I relish in his fear. "I can't do that," I say softly, running my hand along my knife. "That would spoil all my fun."
The fear that grips him feels familiar. It's like an echo of the past six years, stuck under my grandfather's watchful eye. Sure, he let me have some fun with criminals, but it was never enough he only kill them quickly. He was afraid of what I might become. And while I had to hold back then, here… I can let loose.
As I step toward him, he loses control of his bowls, soiling himself from fear. I laugh, feeling a rush of exhilaration. This is how I stay entertained. This is my true self that i only just got to let out i can do whatever i want.
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Five hours later, his body lies in a bloody, burnt mess at my feet. Despite my efforts to prolong his suffering by cauterizing his wounds, he eventually succumbed to blood loss. I sigh, a little disappointed at how short the fun lasted. But there's always more.
I cut off his head with a flick of my wrist, clean it in the cauldron, and add it to the collection. I march through the camp, impaling the headless bodies onto spears, turning the camp into a gruesome forest of corpses. Thirty bodies this time—nothing grand. But I imagine what a thousand might look like, the landscape covered in the dead. A smile creeps across my face.
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The sound of hooves breaks the silence. I turn to see a man approaching with a cart piled high with skulls. He's pale, his eyes wide with fear. "Sir, I'm here to collect the skulls," he mutters.
"Go ahead, take them," I say with a smile on my face.
He climbs down and starts loading the skulls one by one. The first time he witnessed my handiwork, he couldn't keep his stomach steady. Now, he's just barely managing. I can't believe my grandfather sent me someone so weak—his only use is as a carrier for the spoils of my hunts.
There are two other carts. One for valuables—gold, silver, copper—and another for armor and weapons, whatever the bandits left behind. The skull cart is my favorite, of course. I've collected over a hundred so far, hunting down bandit camps and small groups alike.
At first, I attacked from a distance with arrows, but it didn't take long for me to realize I didn't need that. I can simply walk into their midst, sword in hand. They're not much of a challenge, and any injuries I sustain heal by the next day. Nothing they do is enough to stop me before I cut them down and when they run i shoot them down with arrows that hit them in the spine.
At night, I still mostly use arrows especially when the camps are larger its good practice. My eyes have become keen in the dark, almost like I can see perfectly at night. It makes the hunt even more thrilling since i can see their confused faces when an arrow pierces their throats.
I climb onto the skull cart, where a small pile of clothes covers a baby lion. He was the sole survivor of a litter I found caged in one of the camps. His mother starved to death, but I saved him. I've been feeding him goat's milk scavenged from the bandits' stores. I even let him lick my wounds. For some reason, it seems to make him grow faster. I'm curious to see just how strong he'll become.
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We head to the next camp, stopping at a village along the way. The food we've collected will be sold off, though I always keep some for the beggars. It's a smart move—build goodwill and bolster my reputation. They don't need to know what I'm really after.
At the village chief's house, I show him the skulls, weapons, and armor. He hands me ten gold pieces—his whole treasury, most likely. It's nothing compared to what the nobles have, but it'll do for now.
As I move through the village, I make sure everyone gets a good look at the skulls. Let them see, let them talk. My legend will spread from village to village town to town city to city, until the entire realm knows my name.
---
"Are you ready, my lord?" one of the cartmen asks as we prepare to leave.
"Yes. Take me to the next bandits," I command.
"The closest camp is a day's ride, and there are more along the way," he replies.
"Then let's go."
We head north, where the cold seeps into the land and the bandits grow desperate. The villages are poorer there, and bandits prey on the weak. Eventually, they'll move west, where the wealth is richer and the chaos greater. But that's my land, and I won't let it fall apart before I claim it.
For now, I let the bloodshed continue. But soon, it will all belong to me.