Hour of the Night

It had been sixty years since the death of the last master swordsmith. His death meant that man could no longer forge swords that would never break. His last known masterpiece was stolen from the king’s vault twelve nights ago. The governor’s son went missing at the same hour of the night last night. As that same hour approaches this night, more guards are seen wandering through the streets of the sleepy city.

The thief won’t be found, though. He made sure of that. But the body will. He made sure of that as well.

Slowly, a cloaked figure stalked through the back alleys, pausing every now and then as a different guard moved by on the streets. Soon, the cloaked figure alighted upon the great lawn out front of the library. Here, he created his scene, depositing the body of the governor’s son before he fled over the rooftops.

The thief paused on the wall that surrounded the city. He watched the silhouettes of guards roaming around below. They’d find his work soon enough. After a few moments, he turned his face skyward, enjoying the gentle breeze as he gazed at the stars. He was about to turn, to leave the city. He never intended on returning. Maybe he would though. It wasn’t something he had given much thought.

“Hey!” a voice called.

He whirled in time to see one of the wall sentinels dashing towards him. He cursed for a moment before drawing the stolen sword.

B. Valdez 1.16.14



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