Buried Truths

Death is Beautiful

Shadows only exist because there is a light somewhere.... and because no one remembers them or thinks about them- who would when that's the job of this so-called 'light'. So when I walk into "The Final Inn", no one is looking at me or noticing the beautifully carved daggers under my coat. The only thing they will want to see is an average slum-dweller coming for a drink to drown all her sorrows in, and that's what I make them see. 

I roughly sit down on a stool and grunt for a beer - beggars aren't choosers so no-one will be expecting me to sit with clasped hands and ask for a napkin with my champagne. The bartender slams the drink onto the tabletop.

"Your drink ma'am," He walks off to the next customer and I roam my eyes around the place, Three windows on this floor, four on the upper one, one main door where I came from and there might be a possible backdoor for the servents by the kitchens. I take a chug from the dirty tankard, only to almost vomit it all back. These bastard rodents and their filthy run-down drinks, can't even make a decent beer. Well good, gives me more of a reason to dispose of them.

I turn to look for the target only to catch a glimpse of silver, a sword. Now, who in the world would be carrying a sword around this god-forsaken place? I turn my head slightly and catch the frame of a tall broad-shouldered person - who resembles a male - and definitely out of place. I grin under the dirt on my face, it looks like I got my light. I leave the seat and limp towards him, as he goes to move through the hoards of people I trip and spill my drink on him. Everything happens quickly, as I move backwards apologizing, his hand goes to his sword revealing it to everyone in the pub. I make myself tremble even pulling out a few tears,

"Oh no, no,..pu..pl..l..please d...do...do.. don't ki..kil mee.." I continue moving backwards until I bump into someone, turning around I grasp their clothes,

"Please help me, he has a sword, he...he.. might k..ki..kill.. me...me I didn't mean to....d..do it... I swear!" The tears beautifully flow down my cheeks, the man I had grabbed looked up from me and saw the sword before turning red.

"Carrying a weapon in our holy ground? Its beer and cards here you uncultured swine. Everybody on him!" he roars before charging at him, of course so does every other thug sitting on any chair in every nook and cranny of the inn- well, who doesn't love a bloody brawl. I slip through them and move up the stairs, smoothly dodging the oncoming charges of big scary men. I scan the tables and recheck every meeting room placed on this floor, the one in the far left at the end of its row catches my eyes. The curtain is swaying the tiniest bit from the bottom and the floor creaks every other second. I laugh quietly and thank the gods for making this easy for me, I resume my limp and wander slowly down the corridor before standing still at the doorframe, listening to the snippets of conversation that flow over to me.

"He promised us a hefty price if it worked." a rough voice said,

"yes, if it worked. I'm not sure if you noticed but we don't the luxury of an unlimited cache of soul stones." Another, more educated, voice whispered.

"He promised us it will though." the rough voice was back again,

"he seems, to love making us promises. How can we know he'll follow through, Wilksons?" I grin, I had the right targets then. I pulled my hood over my head and slid through the curtains, daggers raised. 

And just like that, The Shadow successfully completes another mission and no-one spotted that slum girl as she jumped from the window onto the roof and merged back into the shadows.