Identity Protection

Silently retracing his footsteps through the darkness, Melothil made his way swiftly back to the castle, and scaled the wall to the king's chambers.

Hiding in the shadows, the assassin slowly lifted his head up above the edge of the window, looking into the room where the body of the king should be rightfully lying, bleeding, dead. But he was not.

Looking to the door, still hanging from the plant that grew up the tower, Melothil saw what appeared to be two guards, obviously patrolling the perimeter in case he returned. They seemed to be paying little to no attention, however, and so Melothil felt that it was safe to have a good look in the room. Safely from outside, still, however.

Upon first glance, there was no trace that there had even been a struggle here. The furniture was immaculate, and the bed had even been made. And, unfortunately, there was also no sign of the purple strip of cloth with the silver shortsword, the mark of an assassin.

Melothil lost himself in the room, gazing at single items for moments at a time, staring in the hope of spotting the well-hidden piece of material. But he already accepted that it had been found. And now the king knew that the Assassin's Guild was behind it. And now they were all in danger.

Melothil looked down at the street below, and was about to make his descent, when he jumped as a shout echoed through the room. He look up quickly, to see a guard running towards him, and another bringing up the rear. Melothil had lingered too long, and now he would have to cause a scene.

Lifting himself up on his hands until he was in a handstand position on the window ledge, he pushed off the window and into the room, kicking the first guard in the chest as he did so. He was knocked back, but barely winded. Landing gracefully on his feet, Melothil kicked at the guard with his left foot. The guard reacted well, catching the foot, but dropping his weapon in the process. This opened  Melothil up for an even stronger kick. Still holding the intruder's left foot, the guard felt the full force of Melothil's right foot as he brought it up to the guard's chest, knocking him to the floor, and taking Melothil with him.

Landing with his knees on the guards chest, Melothil felt a rib snap under his weight - as graceful and elegant as he was, he was well-built and fairly weighty.

Melothil quickly got up and with one quick punch to the other guards face, dazed him. Grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt, he threw him over the bed and onto the solid floor, where Melothil heard a satisfying crack as the guard's neck was broken.

Necessary losses, Melothil told himself as he climbed once more down the outside of the tower.

The End

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