The skull made a loud thunk as it was placed on Elder Benson's table. The man studied it wide eyed before looking up at Harken.

"This is the Krole?" He asked.

"What remains of it. I burned the body and the Heartwood tree it was inhabiting, too. It won't be coming back anytime soon."

"Good. Good." Twice already, the Elder was at a loss for words.

Harken took the knife from his boot and placed it on the table. "Now, it's time for you to fulfill your end of the Pact."

"So it would seem." The Elder nodded. "To be honest, I didn't believe you would make it back, Slayer. You're a cut above the rest." The Elder took the knife and swiped it across his thumb. Once he had welled enough blood, he stamped it into the center of the pentagram.

The pentagram and Harken's tattoo began to glow in unison. Instead of pain, however, the power washed over him like a soothing breeze. The criss cross shaped star slowly peeled off his left cheek, revealing the scarred flesh underneath. It floated in the air for a moment before disintegrating into nothing. The glow from the pentagram faded away once more. The Pact had been fulfilled.

"Will you be staying for a while?" the Elder asked. "I'm sure the people of Irgencourt will be much more grateful to you once news gets around of your accomplishment."

"I cannot, unfortunately." Harken wiped the blood off his knife and slid it back into his boot. "The Slayer's journey ever goes on." He turned to leave.

"Wait, before you go." The Elder pressed a small, jingling pouch into Harken's hand. "Here's a little something for your trouble," he said. "If you find a place that will have you, use this. A good man should never forget the comforts of a bed."

Harken stared at the pouch for a moment before pocketing it. A strange sense of warmth washed over him. Perhaps it was joy. Perhaps it was relief. He felt compelled to say something, but ultimately nodded and left.

His horse was waiting for him patiently back at the tavern's stables. The barman was standing close by, spearing fresh hay into the feeding trough.

"Leaving, are you?" he asked. Harken nodded. "A shame, really. I liked what you did to Everett. Bastard needed a good walloping."

Harken nodded again and saddled his horse. To his surprise, the barman held out a hand. Harken shook it, the grip firm and warm.

"Thank you, Slayer. For everything. I hope one day you walk a free man in this world."

"You're welcome." Harken managed to say before he hitched his horse to ride. However, after a few steps he pulled on the reins and turned back to the barman. "And thank you."

Harken left the village of Irgencourt as the sun neared its zenith in the sky. A cool wind was blowing, whispering sweet melodies in his ears. For a moment, the blistering heat of yesterday felt like nothing more than a bad memory. He closed his eyes and gave a ragged sigh. Time would only tell when the next Pact came.

END