Eric barely had time to mentally prepare himself before one of the knights launched an attack that had the rest of the tavern's patrons to hold their breaths in shock and anticipation. Despite his drunkenness, Eric deftly sidestepped the attempt from the first attacker to grab him while the other knight tried to capture him from behind. Frowning, Eric evaded both knights who were trying to grab him while simultaneously assessing their capabilities as best as his drink addled brain would allow. At first glance, he'd assumed them to be skill-less lackeys based on the way they carried themselves as well as the poor state of their armor. But now? Now he could tell that they were trained.

Well trained.

But not as well-trained as him.

When one of the figures grew genuinely angry about Eric's surprising swiftness, he launched himself forward once more. Unfortunately, thanks to the drink, Eric wasn't as quick as he should have been, and the man was lucky enough to catch Eric with his shoulder. The force of the impact sent Eric flying back where he landed on a thankfully unoccupied table which splintered under the weight of his body before collapsing into a pile of wood shards.

That's when Eric suddenly realized that he was going to have to do something he really didn't want to do.

Groaning as he assessed his minor injuries and lifted himself from the rubble to stand on shaky legs, Eric flinched when one of the armored figures reached his side and swiped at him in another attempt to restrain him. With an imperceptible flick of his wrist, the metal bracelet Eric always wore began to grow warm then glow with a bright intensity that soon lit up part of the relatively dark tavern. At first, Eric grinned as the sight of what was happening to his bracelet gave both his attackers and Caroline pause. Then the thing began to heat up with an intensity that nearly burned him. Eric had missed this, missed that sensation and the rush of adrenaline before a fight, and he welcomed the sudden intensely scalding sensation around his wrist before a flash of magic left his hand clutching an artfully crafted sword.

This was the weapon, his weapon, a sword that was a delicate balance between light and dark. It was beautiful and monstrous.

Eric loved it.

And he hated it.

The intricate etchings of battles and warriors that wound their way down the blade made the object look like a work of art, something worthy of being stored in the most secure section of the treasury deep within the recesses of the Red Castle. But the glimmering beauty of the silver belied the item's real purpose. Those expertly crafted etchings, for instance, were there to guide blood and viscera from the blade in battle.

As he stared at the sword with red-rimmed and drunken eyes, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the memories he shared with it. This thing in his hands veritably pulsated with joy as Eric felt the baser part of himself awaken. He wouldn't let it consume him, though. Not again.

Part of his mind still registered that his attackers were observing him in stunned silence, and Eric smiled darkly as he dropped into a stance. Where he'd only sensed a dogged determination from his attackers beforehand, Eric now felt the hesitation of both the men and the confusion of their alluring master.

"That's...that's the Vorpal Blade."

Eric chuckled mirthlessly as he casually swung his beloved weapon, enjoying the weight of it in his palm. "Did you doubt that I was the Huntsman, Caroline?"

The woman gave him a gentle shrug. "I'll admit...I had considered you were lying about your identity. You fit the description and claimed you were him, but you didn't strike me as...well, now I know..."

Eric's gaze darkened as she trailed off. How could she have not believed him? "I don't lie."

The woman he'd spent the better part of his genuinely enjoyable night with gave him another half shrug before speaking. "I-I...fine. You didn't lie...But, this changes nothing." She squared her shoulders before meeting his gaze and continuing. "I am still demanding that you come with me."

Eric smiled then, flashing the woman a grin that he knew was as devastatingly charming as it was ominous. "I'm sorry, but I think I'll have to decline. I'll be taking my leave of this place. You and your men have two choices." As Eric spoke, he patiently observed the armored men shifting on their feet in obvious discomfort as they cast quick and quizzical glances at Carolina. So, they hadn't expected him to be the real Huntsman. He supposed he couldn't blame them.

"For your first option, you can continue to try and capture me by force, which will end in me taking your lives. Recently, though, I've developed a dislike for killing, so I truly hope you're not foolish enough to take this first tac."

Although she put up a strong front, Eric could sense the woman's uncertainty, and it was then he noticed the lines of worry on her face and the slight wear of stress that comes from years of living in this hellish world of theirs. Carolina didn't appear to want to be doing this. She was probably driven by a desperate need for money in a world where wealth was growing increasingly scarcer, which made him even more curious about who might be seeking him this time. Over the years, Eric had made many enemies for himself, so there was a long list of people who would be yearning to take him, either alive or dead. But he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly whose bounty payout Carolina sought.

When he spoke, he hoped his voice sounded gentler and more understanding because he got it. He knew what it was like to be impoverished, to starve and see your family and friends starving, too. Eric knew the hardships of living in this world of near-eternal winter. As a child, he'd experienced temperate autumns and sweet springs. Things had been normal in the world, well as normal as was normal for Underland.

But then the mythical Alice had arrived. Then there was the coup followed by the war that tore their land apart. And now...now they were left with this frigid hellscape where every day was a struggle to survive. So, promises of wealth, of security, were enough to drive even the saintliest person to do terrible things. Maybe...maybe that's what was driving Carolina: not an evil determination to fulfil the will of some master but a somewhat noble mission to help those she cared about.

Or she could just be a bitch, but Eric suspected that was certainly not the case.

Still smirking faintly, he continued. "The alternative is that you let me go. I'll take my leave of this place, this town. I'll go and never return and leave you to return safely to your families. Just give me my bag from my room and my cloak."

He could see Carolina's mind working as she eyed him with an expression half of wonder, half of fear. After several long moments, she spoke, "Are...are those stories true? All of them?"

Eric's smile became a little rueful as he watched the knights continue to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I don't know. I don't know what stories you've heard. But yes. They're probably true."

Carolina regarded him for several moments more, and Eric sensed the patrons quietly eyeing the interaction with a tenseness that was almost palpable. The tavern was silent enough that all he could hear was the crackling of the fire in the fireplace and the shifting of ice on the trees outside.

Eventually, Carolina spoke quietly to the innkeeper. "Retrieve his things, Geneva."

The older woman nodded before heading off in the direction of the stairs which led to the rooms. He and Carolina stared at one another for a moment before Eric broke the silence. "Thank you."

She rolled her eyes before calling off her men with a gesture of her hand. "I don't know why you're thanking me. You threatened to kill us if we didn't let you go. I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart."

He heard the heavy tread of the inn keeper descending the stairs as he smiled faintly. "No but you could have tried me. It has happened before. People can be...overconfident in their capabilities."

As the innkeeper appeared and handed his leather satchel over to Carolina, the woman smiled teasingly, reminding him a little of the woman he'd enjoyed the evening with. "How about you, Huntsman? Are you ever overconfident in your abilities?"

Eric snorted, keeping his sword at the ready as he motioned for her to throw his bag on the table between them. "Never. I've earned every ounce of confidence I have. My cloak?"

Another nod from Carolina sent the innkeeper into the back room where she stored the wet cloaks of travelers. She swiftly handed the garment to Carolina who tossed it next to the satchel. Still keeping his eyes on the knights, he made his way over to his bag and fished around one-handed until he located the cool metal of the object he'd been searching for.

The knights flinched when he quickly pulled out the silver container, but he saw understanding dawn on them as their eyes landed on what was in his: a flask. Grinning, Eric tossed the flask to Carolina.

The woman caught it with both hands and looked at it curiously.

"It's real silver." He offered smirking wider when the surprise crossed her features. "I'm giving up drinking..." He explained as he slipped on his cloak with one hand while clutching his sword in the other. "This kind of shit always happens to me when I've been drinking. Keep it."

He didn't wait to see her reaction. With his words delivered, he slipped on his pack and, keeping his senses attuned to the people behind him, strode out of the tavern and into the bitterly cold and dark night that was waiting for him.