Quickly, the people scattered throughout the village, returning to their homes. The caravan was escorted to the front of the house that served as the self-proclaimed town hall. It was a warm, small cabin—far more modest than one would expect for the village leader, yet cozy all the same. The elder was already waiting for the young man at the entrance, watching him with a mix of nervousness and respect.
Before stepping inside, Trill removed his boots and, without the slightest shame, slipped on a pair of eccentric blue rabbit slippers he carried in his bag."I hope you don't mind," he said with a mocking smile. "My boots are full of fat, stinking guts.""Don't worry, I appreciate the thought," the elder replied, surprised but genuinely grateful for the gesture.
They both took seats in cushioned chairs, separated by a handmade wooden table. Around them, a few people had gathered. One seemed to be the elder's wife, while the other two were the young siblings who had nearly been kidnapped earlier. The girl and her brother placed a couple of trays on the table, each holding what appeared to be roasted pigeons.
Without a second thought, Trill lunged at one of them, devouring it with ravenous hunger. In a single bite, he nearly finished the whole thing, choking in the process. Waving desperately, he signaled the girl to pour him a cup of homemade beer. With just a swig, he managed to swallow it all—bones included—ending the scene with a slightly friendlier smile. This time, he took care not to bare his sharp teeth, hiding the unsettling expression he usually wore."Thank you," he said in a calm tone.
The simplicity of his gratitude eased the tension in the room. Gradually, those present began to relax, and as the minutes passed it became clear that—despite his lethal nature and unsettling smile—Trill was surprisingly pleasant company. With witty remarks and varied jokes, he eventually won everyone's favor. Even other villagers, concerned for the elder's safety, joined in, bringing more food: fruits, soups, whatever they had on hand. Trill accepted everything gladly, eating as if he had no limit.
After a couple of hours of this impromptu feast, Trill broke the merriment."Well," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "everything was delicious—almost enough to convince me to lower my fee, old man. But the deal stands: four gold coins… or I kill everyone in this room."
The jovial tone made the chilling words sound almost like a joke, but the smile showing his sharp teeth, and the seriousness in his eyes, made it clear he wasn't lying. The elder had no doubt the young man could kill them all in an instant, so he answered quickly."I'll pay you that and more… but I want to rent your services for a bit longer."
Trill raised an eyebrow, intrigued."I want you to kill the creature that lives in the ruins north of the village. The sovereign who commands those men. I know it won't take long for him to learn what happened today and—""I see," Trill interrupted, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed expression. "Not surprising. Let's say I accept the job and blindly walk into whatever it is you're all so terrified of. How do you plan on paying me? One thing is killing stupid orcs—a child with a silver sword could do that. But… what guarantees me there isn't something more powerful there? Could be a sect of druids, child-eating witches, or… a vampire."
At the word vampire, everyone in the room flinched. The truth the village had tried to ignore for decades was now out in the open."Your reaction says it all," Trill continued, taking another roasted pigeon and biting into it. "My rate for killing zombies is four coins per pack. But if we're talking about a vampire… that's a hundred. For just one."
The elder paled at the exorbitant sum. Such money was impossible to obtain; even selling the entire population as slaves to the neighboring country wouldn't bring half that amount. Trill noticed immediately and, with a smile that blended mockery and pragmatism, went on."I don't think there's anything in this house you could pay me with, am I wrong, old man?" he said as the man lowered his head in resignation, hands clenched in helplessness.
The hunter continued, his smile neither mocking nor warm:"But I already told you—I'm not cruel or merciless."
For a moment, the elder lifted his head, a flicker of hope in his eyes. It vanished quickly when Trill raised a hand, stopping him before he could speak."It wouldn't make me happy to leave you at the mercy of the master of those fat-brained fools. So… I'll make you an offer."
The elder shot up from his seat as if sprung by a coil, shouting at the top of his lungs:"Anything! As long as it doesn't harm anyone in the village, I'll do whatever it takes.""Great," Trill replied, sinking back into his chair, his usual smile hidden. This time, his face turned serious—almost blank—with a sharp gaze that pierced the elder.
The village leader felt every fiber of his being scream that this was a bad idea, but there was no turning back. He swallowed hard and nodded."Let's forget mundane things like gold for a moment. Gold comes and goes, but there are more important things: health, love, life, time. But do you know what I truly want—what keeps slipping through my fingers?"
The elder stayed silent, dreading the answer. Trill leaned forward, showing an emotion difficult to read as he gripped a silver cross hanging from his neck."All I ask is that you help me reach a certain object—be my catalyst. It's something insignificant. Even useless to you. You won't suffer; you'll just have to open the way for me to take it with my own hands. What do you say? You could save yourself up to two hundred gold pieces with just a little help."
The elder swallowed again.*"Sir hunter…""Call me Trill, please," he interrupted cheerfully. "We've eaten and drunk together—we're more friends than strangers now."
With that, Trill spat the pigeon bones he'd been chewing onto the plate before him.
"Mr. Trill… what exactly is it you need from me?", the elder asked gravely.
"I already told you. You'll just open the doors so I can get something. Don't pretend you don't understand. Everyone your age knows the legend of the "Legacies of the""
"SHUT UP!", the old man barked, startling everyone present. "Don't say another word in front of the children. Those things bring nothing but evil into the world."
His tone was enough to send the adults scurrying to gather the children and, with respectful bows, leave the house in total silence. In minutes, only Trill, the elder, and two men guarding the old man remained. The elder sat down again, visibly shaken.
"Why do you want those things? Haven't you thought about what you could unleash?"
Trill clicked his tongue, annoyed.
"Don't start with the whole 'A thousand years ago, they sealed the world's evil into 127 cursed objects so it would vanish from this filthy, stinking continent' speech. Because, clearly, their little plan failed."
The air in the room shifted. An imaginary cold seemed to seep into every corner, as though merely mentioning the Legacies had sucked the warmth away. Trill leaned back in his chair, gazing at the ceiling with a far calmer expression.
"I'm not looking to start wars. I'm not even after collecting them all. I only want one. One in particular. I need it… to wipe out every last damned Nemir on this planet. And to find one in particular".
As he said that last part, he finally released the silver cross he'd been holding, tucking it back beneath his shirt. The elder stayed silent for a long while, head bowed. At last, with reluctance, he spoke:
"I'll help you with your ritual… but only because I can't afford to pay you".
Trill leaned forward theatrically, gripping the old man's hand with force, his smile stretching ear to ear.
"You won't regret it, old man. Be it one, two, or even a hundred vampires, I'll kill them all for you free of charge. Well… you know my payment. And if you decide to refuse, you also know what'll happen to your lovely little village, don't you?"
He rose to his feet and extended his hand in a mock-reverent gesture.
"Deal struck…"
The elder, trembling with doubt, extended his hand to seal it.
"…and never undone".
With a spin on his heel, Trill headed for the door. No one stopped him. The elder let out a deep sigh, as though releasing a breath he'd been holding for days. He was afraid. Whatever lived in the ruins north of the village was already a problem… but now he feared even more the wrath of that creature.
Not paying him isn't an option, he thought bitterly.
"Well", Trill called from the doorway, flashing a sinister grin, "I'll be off. Time to take care of this plague once and for all. The sooner, the better, right?"
He slammed the door behind him. His caravan awaited loyally just a few steps from the chief's cabin. Standing before it, Trill stretched as though preparing for a leisurely stroll through the park. With a few precise taps on the vehicle's frame, a compartment opened. He stepped inside only to emerge with a sleek black leather case, shiny as obsidian, along with a pair of comfortable boots. He took a moment to brush his teeth.
"Good thing I had garlic for breakfast. Still not sure if it's a vampire, but it's the most obvious bet. Kidnapping villagers without selling them as slaves? That only leaves… food, right?", he muttered, though there was no reply.
He kept talking as if continuing a private train of thought.
"Using the Sirmn as a food source… terrible management. Weakening your stock by consuming the young? If you want to keep the village as livestock, it's a bad idea to sacrifice the breeders before they've reproduced. Unless… they don't plan on staying here long".
Trill lifted his right hand, studying its back as though searching for an answer.
"Anyway, I'm just rambling, Skipper. Why don't you save me the surprises and tell me straight, are we dealing with a vampire?"
The right hand opened to reveal a large sky-blue eye, blinking like a feline's. The eye blatantly ignored its owner, closing again at once. Trill sighed, resigned, letting it drop onto a stool while he took up the suitcase with the same hand.
"You're adorable, though I wish you wouldn't make me look like I'm talking to myself… Well, I do talk to myself. Who talks to their dog expecting a real answer? You could at least bark or something".
He began poking the closed eye until it lit up red, its iris widening like the maw of a worm. Instinctively, Trill pulled his bare hand away, realizing the eye wasn't going to give him anything but another cryptic hint.
"Don't be cryptic, just tell me", his tone sharpened with frustration. "It fell asleep! Sometimes I hate you, partner. Whatever, let's get to work".
The hunter stood, clearly irritated. His arrival in this village was nothing but the doing of his own hand—and the indirect order of his mistress, Carmen the Crimson Witch. Finishing his preparations, he muttered with dry irony:
""You'll find your destiny at nightfall." Sure, right. As if the Jackal were anywhere near these lands".
He stepped out of the caravan, now fully equipped, and began walking out of the village. Taking a deep breath, he shouted:
"Where's this ruin, anyway?!"
He quickly turned and pointed a finger at a boy standing to his right.
"Hey, you!"
The boy jumped to his feet, startled.
"Y-yes, sir?"
"Tell me, where are the ruins where they take the people?"
"I don't know, sir", the boy replied, shrugging before returning to what he was doing.
Trill pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed in exasperation.
"Kids these days are so useless. At your age, I'd already killed my first target… and got paid well for it, too", he said with a crooked smile, more to himself than to the child. Then, turning his attention back to his right hand, still inert:
"Skipper, darling…" he murmured sarcastically, then shrugged. "Ah, whatever. Let's walk".
With no apparent destination, Trill began making his way into the depths of the forest. The place seemed dense and hostile, yet his senses guided him almost instinctively.
"An expert always knows where to look", he said to himself with a confident smile as he vanished among the trees.