The Assassin

Chapter 1. The Escape

From the shadows I could hear him. Stumbling around in the darkness, unknowing of his fate, and unwittingly inching ever closer to it. My hand held my knife steady as I waited. What kind of a foolish guard gets this drunk when they know they have one of the Five Shadows under lock and key? What a foolish faith to put into such flimsy steel, especially when they missed five different lock picks I'd had hidden on my person during the "search" that left me so bruised upon my capture.

I inched closer to the man, silent as the shadows that surrounded me, his outline illuminated by torchlight as he began to relieve himself into a bucket tucked away in the corner of the jail. What a literal shithole I thought to myself. The smell of this place wouldn't really be all that worse when they discovered this man's rotting corpse on the morrow. I almost chucked at that thought.

As suddenly and quietly as it began it was over. It's always the worst to catch someone in the middle of bodily functions when the time comes, but it also had proven over the handful of time I had done this to be the second easiest time to assassinate someone. The easiest typically being when they are asleep, although I suppose that depends on the person. My hand clutched his mouth, the dagger pilfered from his own pile of things did the deed well enough as it slid easily across his throat cutting his corotid artery and jugular vein, though it was certainly in need of sharpening as it seemed to catch on the windpipe. The man still struggled for a few moments, still not entirely sure what was happening as he bled out into unconsciousness. I wouldn't need to stick around to confirm he was dead.

With that I gathered up his keys, and made my way uncontested to there store room where I found my things roughly thrown into a pile in the corner. I tossed aside the poorly balanced, poorly maintained and fairly dull butter-knife of a dagger carelessly, blood still dripping from it's edge. I gathered up my clothing and began to dress as I had been stripped naked when caught. First my black-dyed cottons pants, and undershirt. Then my leathers, on piece at a time from the shin guards to the greaves, then the chest piece, then the pauldrons, then my gloves before finally gathering up my cloak and throwing it around my shoulders, drawing up the hood, and lastly clasping the attached face mask piece into place. I found my coinpurse, empty of course, gathered up my bow and now empty quiver of arrows as I slung both over my head and shoulders, and lastly my belt with both blades still attached. Thank the gods.

As a Shadow I could fail without fear of severe penalty, If I was lucky it would only be a less desired assignment, unlucky it would be a small beating as penance. But if I had lost either my sword or dagger and been unable to recover them, returning to camp would be the most foolhardy thing I could do.

The Army of Five Shadows is many things. We are thieves, murderers, scoundrels. We are soldiers, knights, lords. We are physical representations of the five tenants for which we are named, but chiefly we are blades, and if we don't have our blades we are worthless to our superiors and not worthy of our place. To be a blade without a place? Well, that is to be a leaf without a tree. Dead.

I slipped out the window in the store room, and made my way along the rooftops silently, careful to avoid the notice of the few town guards roaming the now empty streets. I made my way over the city wall, into the forest, and slipped away into the cover of the forest knowing there would be no pursuit. Even when the did eventually discover the body I left no trail for them to follow, and besides, how can you follow a shadow? I made my way back to camp, alive and with my blades. What more could an assassin ask for?