On the far eastern corner of the known world, in the barren land of the dragon folk, and as the hearts of kings were fixated on exploration and glory, an old flame rekindled as the hundred years came to a close. A small flame, almost imperceptible. One may even call it a glitch in the centuries-old system. A small glitch, a minor error to be rectified at the most local level of government. A cigarette butt to be stumped without hesitation, and without consequences. The local sheriff did just that. He saw the threat and, afraid of catching fire, he stumped on it mercilessly. He persecuted the perpetrators with the most capital punishment known to man. The punishment of the one God. Fire. What he failed to realize, what they all failed to realize, was that words have meaning in the hearts of men. Time can sometimes cover it up, like dust on stone. But the meaning remains, hidden, waiting to be conjured. And these words were no ordinary words, these were the words of Panjia, th...
Short stories about bounty hunters