A Bounty Hunter
James didn't hold back his hands while taking out his knife. The moment the knife appeared, the man's face changed.
He was a youth, not much older than James, probably nineteen or twenty. As James took out his knife, he also took out his sword.
The sword seemed quite domineering, not inferior to the knife by much. James glanced at the sword that was long with a thin blade and broad hilt and sneered.
"You have such a nice weapon there," he said.
"You too," and the youth said, "can we solve this without fighting then? I'm here just to deliver a message," the youth smiled, trying to retreat a step and act respectful.
"A message can be delivered to me, either in words or in blood," yet James wouldn't let him do anything like this. This was his place, and he was the owner of everything.
He wouldn't accept someone to move inside his home without being stopped!
"This… you aren't the one meant to receive the message."