Clang! the bell went, signalling the start of the hunt. Clang! the sound reverberating through his bones.

All around a silence fell on his ears. Then, steadily, the noises began to rise. Shouts and cries, screams piercing the air.

He saw it almost too late but managed to collapse his body as the sword swept in front of him. Hot pain lashed across his face where then edge of the sword managed to catch him, but the pain was dull and he could ignore it.

He heard the clatter of armour as he saw his would-be killer topple fall from his horse and hit the ground with a grunt.

Wasting no time he clambered to his feet, scooped up the lost sword and drove it unrelenting into the neck of the downed hunter, doing his best to ignore the sickening crack of bones and gurgle of blood.

The horse had returned and he thanked the fake gods that had abandoned him long ago for his luck. Swinging his leg over the horse he surveyed the street around him. There was fighting, or, at least, killing, because those like him where not there to fight back, but only to be killed, set loose around the city to be hunted and struck down for the fun of it.

“Good riddance,” he said as he kicked the horse and rode for the Bell-Arch.

The exit.

His freedom.