8 The Master Hunter

A man in his late twenties stood gazing out a large window in the central room. His dark brown eyes meditated on an invisible point in the back courtyard. His black-brown hair was almost as dark as his eyes. A smooth, embroidered leather vest covered his chizeled muscles beneath his woven shirt. Skill and an iron demure echoed from his statue. He was a hunter. A master hunter.

Heavy wood double doors opened as a high ranked servant entered to announce the success and arrival of the captive. "At last", the Master murmured under his breath. "Bring her in", he commanded. Not three minutes later the doors opened again to reveal Atila being drug inside in chains. Two guards held either ends pulling her to the floor.

She knelt in a tense, but firm position. The air she gave almost made the guards holding her nervous. But whatever air she gave was crushed in comparison to the Master. To them he was the Master Hunter. If it wasn't for his secrecy, he would be know as such to everyone in the nearby gatherings and further.

The Master turned as she was brought in and gazed calmly on her. She refused to look up at him and set her face as stone. He observed he intently and was strangely pleased as if this reaction was what he wanted. She could feel his gaze and wondered how much he already knew about and why.