Northern_Lights_2014

seconds, until he heard the satisfying crack of Gibbs’ body breaking on the rocks below. “They really need to put a guardrail up here,” he said to no one but the darkness around him. He entered Cindro through the Temple Gate, and made his way over to Gibbs’ house. He picked the lock on the bedroom window with ease. “What kind of assassin uses the front door?” he thought to himself as he slipped inside. The bedroom he entered was dark, and the moon provided little light. He drew a candle from one pouch on his belt, and a tinderbox from another. He lit the candle and looked at his surroundings. The bed- room was sparsely furnished. There was a simple king-sized bed against one wall, a wardrobe with only one robe in it, also of a priest of Death. There was a dresser in one corner, with only one change of clothes. On top of the dresser, there was the box Gibbs had told him about. It unlocked and opened with ease, clearly signify- ing that Gibbs was well and truly dead. The first thing he noticed was a neatly folded note. It was covered in small, neat writing: “To whoever has killed me: I would like to convey my deepest gratitude to you for doing so. You have done me a great service, and I would like to repay you. In this box, you will find a pair of daggers. They are forged from magical obsidian and have been enchanted to never break or dull. Whether you decide to use them for yourself, or sell them, you will be gaining a great reward. Feel free to take anything in my house that you desire, and once again, thank you!” Royce folded the note closed and looked into the box again. There was a pair of very finely crafted ob- sidian daggers, just as the note had said. They were single-edged, and forged in a shallow 'V' shape. They were almost a perfect fit for his hands. They felt like they were made for him. Oh, yes, he was sure they were quite valuable, but there was no way he’d be selling these. In all his years as an assassin, he had never gotten a re- ward quite as good as this. They would make certain parts his job much easier. He still felt a little bad about killing a man he felt hadn’t deserved it, but he would get over it. He always did. Now, it was time to see if he had another client. There was always more work to be done. The way he saw things was that as long as there’s two people left in the world, someone is going to want someone dead. Back to Contents 31