Hours after the dust settled, echoes of victory pulsed through the Altinos castle. The courtyard thrummed with the cheers of soldiers, celebrating their survival against the Bevois' assault. Yet, amidst the revelry, the warrior stood on the balcony. His heroism had turned the tide, but the burden of his past gnawed at his soul.

General Li approached, his voice booming with relieved gratitude. "Your blade, sir, it carved our victory. I was right to bring you with me."

The warrior offered a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment. But Li was not done. "The King wishes to express his personal thanks."

A flicker of something dark crossed the warrior's eyes. Every passing second was a calculation, a search for an opening. He could have erased the next target from his list. Yet, this wasn't the moment. He followed Li, stepping into a chamber adorned with opulent treasures, a stark contrast to the battlefield outside. He decided to keep his killer urges aside as he would see what the king would have to offer for him.

The King, flanked by his vizier, descended the stairs, his demeanor a curious mix of regal bearing and nervous energy. "Hero," he declared, a forced smile stretching across his thin lips, "your valor inspires awe. Unlike some..."

Li opened his mouth to protest, but the King silenced him with a sharp gesture. "Don't interrupt, Li. This warrior, though you may not know him, saw my peril and rescued my daughter, my light."

Li's eyes narrowed, mistrust swirling in their depths. "He seemed to know..."

"Enough, Li! We owe him gratitude, not suspicion. Leave us."

The King dismissed Li with a dismissive wave, then fixed the warrior with an unnerving intensity. "I saw your hate for the Bevois, warrior, burning in your eyes as you cut them down. You despise them as I do."

"I did what needed to be done," the warrior replied, his voice a low rasp.

The King leaned closer, a predator scenting prey. "That's why I have a mission for you, a mission that requires a hand as merciless as your own. In the southwest, pockets of Bevois remain, refugees, clinging to a fading hope. I want them eliminated, an act of vengeance for their atrocities."

The warrior considered the offer, his mind a maelstrom of conflicting desires. "And if I refuse?"

The King let out a dry laugh. "Then the dogs may well find a new chew toy. But I jest, of course. This offer, however, is for your own benefit."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Finally, the warrior spoke, his voice laced with steel. "Will the General accompany me?"

The King shook his head. "He remains to guard the castle. Most of our forces head south, but you shall have a dozen men at your side."

A ghost of a smile touched the warrior's lips. "Very well. We leave tomorrow."

He left the chamber, consumed by the King's words, a new target etched onto his memory. But behind the mask of obedience, a different game played out. This mission, this twisted dance of vengeance, would be his own. He would find his prey, yes, but the King would ultimately be the one caught in the snare.