As I arrived home, I sighed. Lighting a lantern, I shuttered the window, and covered myself with a blanket in my corner, one arm propped up against my pillow.
The other gingerly held a book.
Organisms of the Earth
a picture on the third page showed a funny-looking horse-like creature, covered in short light-brown fur, accompanied with a long neck, and a large, hump-like midsection. It's legs were spindly, and ended in triangular-shaped hooves.
It was called a camel, or a dromedary camelus.
After studying the creature for the millionth time, I set the book to the side, away from me to prevent damaging it in my sleep.
I closed my eyes, laying on my back, my trench still on my shoulders.
I woke up with a blade at my throat.
A figure dressed in black held a small dagger at my throat, his eyes wide, and his mouth open in amusement. His voice was thick, like gravel.
"Ohh? Who knew the silver prince was a girl? Maybe I'll have some fun before I kill you!" His eyes were almost maniacal.
Quickly, I flipped the man over, and took the knife from his hands.
"Some fun, huh?" I snorted. "Tut, tut, tut, didn't your mother teach you any manners?" He scrambled away from me, in shock, and as he disappeared out the window, I threw the knife out after him, stabilizing my elbows on the small windowsill.
The knife disappeared into his neck, and he screamed in pain as red liquid poured from the wound, he stumbled away, further and further from the actual scene of the crime.
The black clothes stopped him from leaving a blood-trail, and I judged he could wander for another 5 minutes before he died.
I yawned.
What an unpleasant way to wake up.
I rubbed my hands together. It was early fall, and the cold was setting in.
I'd deal with that later.
I put on my civilian clothes, hiding my white hair, and re-positioning my trench on my shoulders, so it flowed out behind me like a small cape.
I leapt out of the window, re-obscuring the rusty staircase with ivy, and setting out.
In the city center, after getting a cup of tea from a bakery, and sitting outside in the slightly chilly breeze, I caught sight of my next mark.
A fat (there's no other way to put it) cow of a woman, in a frilly yellow dress. She was scurrying around, two assistants at each of her sides.
A fat wallet sat in the crook of her arm.
I set my tea down, paying for the drink with three 1-bills.
I caught up to the woman, keeping a safe distance behind her, until her assistants turned their backs. My index and middle fingers snaked into her wallet, and in a simple movement, I had 10 bills in my hand. In her wallet, I left a small white paper cross.
I brushed past, never touching the mark, going unnoticed by her watery, beady, eyes.
I kept walking, until I was out of sight, and pocketed 10 one-hundred bills.
Thief, indeed.
I looked at my clothes, which were becoming too small, worn, and attracted too much attention from the rich inhabitants of the capital city. My shirt had a slight tear on the front, and the knees of the pants I usually wore were the thickness of paper.
