Swamp of Death

CHAPTER 51

Vards decided to split up as soon as they reached the outskirts of Vallsynk. Individually, they had a much better chance to reach their targets unnoticed. And with the recent return of the army, the streets were almost empty. From the loud noise coming out of numerous taverns, it wasn't hard to realize where all of the townsfolk ended.

Vlaazh Niykav moved swiftly through the dark and narrow alleys, passing through the residential district, and towards the business quarter. Uniformed rows of four story buildings were stretching on both sides of the street. With the same brown, bland facades, and identical sets of windows. Each could house up to a hundred people, and with its low maintenance costs, they were affordable for practically everyone. One patrol made him stop for a couple of moments, but the guards were just passing by. Vlaazh had no need to worry.

Twenty odd minutes later, he reached the business district, in whose exact center was a tall building of the main mercantile guild. Two soldiers were leaning on the fence surrounding the estate, supposedly guarding the entrance. They seemed to have a rather amusing conversation, not minding their duties. Vard could not have hoped for a better opportunity. It was practically an invitation. He sneaked by them with ease, shortly stopping under a small, ground floor window. The room was dark, but he had to be sure it was empty, before climbing inside.

Vlaazh did not shy from a fight, but he wanted to finish the task with the least effort. Vards were patient and cautious by nature, approaching everything meticulously. Giving them a great advantage, in these kinds of situations. Small office of some merchant's secretary was empty. Vlaazh was in luck once more, as he found the doors opened. Clerk must have forgotten to lock them.

Small, lit, oil lamp was hanging in the far end of the corridor. Vard bent almost to the crawl, heading towards the staircase. His steps were careful and quiet. Narrow stairs led all the way up to the last, sixth floor of the building. He was nearing the source of the voices, coming from behind the large, wooden doors. Vlaazh waited for a moment, just to be sure there's no one else on this floor. Quickly removing his hood, vard stepped inside the office.

"Ah it's you, Xavnier. Excellent." gaunt, tall merchant, almost jumped out of his armchair "Pay up Panmorn, you've lost fair and square."

"Damned elf had to be late today." another, rather fat, bald merchant retorted angrily, taking out a small, leather pouch from his pocket "I think you'll find ten coins inside."

"I believe you." Fletcher said, cheering with the mug of red wine.

Panmorn tossed the wallet in the merchant's lap, turning towards the fireplace. He grunted and moaned, lifting one of the logs, throwing it carefully on the small fire. Thousands of sparks flew up the sooty chimney, rekindling the flames in a tiny cloud of smoke and ashes. Fat merchant coughed loudly, wiping his eyes.

"Pour me some mead Fletcher, I need to wash down my throat. This damn smoke nearly cho..."

Panmorn's words disappeared in a silent groan, as the sharp dagger pierced through his chest. Blade stopped just below his heart. Fat merchant could feel the entirety of its cold blade.

"B...but Xavnier, what is the meaning of this?" Panmorn still had the strength to say a few words.

His terrified eyes searched for Fletcher, but the lanky merchant could not have helped anymore. He was dead. Horror appeared on his face, once Panmorn realized his fate was no different. He tried to push the attacker, but was too weak, and too slow. Second dagger plunged just underneath his left arm. Blade scraped loudly, slitting in between the ribs, making the fat merchant jerk aside in pain.

"Xavnier, why are you doing this?" Panmorn coughed a little bit of blood, stumbling to his knees "You can stop..."

Vlaazh pushed him away, letting him fall. Supine, flat on his back, Panmorn hectically rolled his eyes, not able to move.