It was a cool, crisp, moonless night. On the edge of a large manor, a pair of shadowy figures darted from the cover of a tree before vaulting the low wall that bordered the manor’s grounds. Covering ground as swiftly and silently as rats, they crossed pristine garden that was swept clean of fallen leaves twice a day at great expense. Lights blazed from the windows despite the late hour, and the two intruders took care to keep to the shadows as they approached the servant’s door.

“I wonder how much it costs to keep the lights on all night,” Vergan whispered as his accomplice studied the door.

Artek Genovian turned and pressed his fingers to his lips, demanding silence. He locked eyes with the pudgy youth until he nodded in understanding. Artek held his gaze for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the door. After studying the lock for a moment, he twisted the knob. To his surprise, it swung open.

As he was about to step inside, Artek felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his friend wearing a worried look on his face.

“It could be a trap,” Vergan hissed.

Artek shook his head and dragged his heavyset friend into the kitchen before closing the door silently behind them.

“When you’re as powerful as Lord…” Artek blinked as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights inside.

“Filern,” Vergan offered.

“Whoever,” Artek continued with a dismissive wave of his hand. “When you’re as powerful as a provincial lord, you think that no one would dare commit a theft against you.”

Vergan swallowed nervously, and Artek could tell that he was on the edge. He was sweating profusely despite the cool temperature.

“Calm down, eh?” Artek whispered, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “This is a milk run. We’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“I don’t know…” Vergan began, unconvinced.

Artek fought a surge of irritation and reminded himself that it wasn’t unusual for his friend to be nervous. They were both teens who had grown up on the same street, but Artek had lost both his parents at a young age and had been forced to do what he needed to survive while this was the first time Vergan had ever broken the law.

“Look how easy getting in was,” Artek said sweetly. “You’re just minutes away from being able to afford a lovely house for you and Marilin to grow old in.”

Vergan’s face coloured at the mention of his childhood sweetheart. Then, his doubts began to seep back in. “Lord Filern will be furious when he finds out…”

“So what?” Artek scoffed. “There’s nothing to tie the two of us to this theft. We’ve both lived in his province for years and he doesn’t even know we exist.”

Vergan wasn’t convinced. “You fought with him in the war!”

“War,” Artek snorted. “It was a four hundred soldiers against a hundred revolting peasants, and he dismissed most of us right before they surrendered so we wouldn’t be entitled to any plunder…”

Artek realized he had inadvertently raised his voice as his temper flared. A year ago, Lord Filern had raised an army to put down a revolt. Artek and many other commoners thought it was a good opportunity to earn some money. During the battle, the common soldiers had been sent in to soften up the peasant lines, while the noble cavalry sat back. The fighting had been brutal, and what had their reward been? After the peasant’s lines and their wills had been broken, they had been on the verge of victory when they were abruptly called back.

While the nobles crushed what resistance remained, the common soldiers were treated like criminals by the bailiffs, rounded and forced to surrender their weapons before being unceremoniously dismissed for their ‘embarrassing display’ against an inferior foe. When they demanded their pay, they discovered there were numerous deductions for food and transport, even though they had paid for it themselves and marched on foot. Ultimately, they were forced to accept a mere fraction of what had been promised.

Artek took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. There was no use in getting angry now. Life had never been fair to him, but if there was one thing that he had learned, it was that it was that nothing tasted quite as sweet as revenge.

“I don’t think he ever once looked at us common soldiers,” Artek said. “He wouldn’t have the slightest idea who I was if we bumped into each other on the street tomorrow.”

“But…” Vergan began and fell silent when Artek held up a hand.

“What is it?” Vergan whispered after a few tense moments.

Artek shook his head. “Come on, it’s just down the hall.”

Taking the lead, Artek poked his head into the hallway. Once he was satisfied the coast was clear, he padded down into a large reception room where he found what they were after, right where their employer said it would be.

“Is that the Sword of Immortality?” Vergan whispered as the pair entered the room.

“It must be,” Artek replied.

“It doesn’t look like much,” Vergan remarked. It looked like an ordinary longsword and was enveloped by a nondescript black sheath.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Artek shrugged. “All I know is we’ve been offered a pretty penny to bring this back.”

“Do you think it grants immortality?” Vergan wondered.

Artek looked at his friend and raised an eyebrow. “Of course it isn’t. This has been in Filern’s keeping for generations, and his father died at fifty!”

“Oh,” Vergan said, sounding a little disappointed.

“Besides, Filern doesn’t have the clout to own something like this if it did,” Artek continued as he looked around the room. There were several other baubles on display, and all looked valuable, but Gainan would be apoplectic if he swiped anything besides the sword, and Artek hoped to do more work for him in future.

“I suppose,” Vergan allowed.

“Keep an eye on the hallway while I grab it,” Artek ordered as he studied the sword and its display case for any signs of an alarm.

Finding none, he lifted the glass display case and carefully set it aside. As he reached for the sword, he thought he felt an aura emanating from it and hesitated.

“What is it?” Vergan hissed from the hallway.

“Keep your eyes on the hall, not on me!” Artek shot back.

He looked at the sword and it felt as though the sword was looking back at him. Artek shook his head. “What’s wrong with you?”

Shaking off his unease, he grabbed the sword and strapped it across his back. He paused to see if anything would happen.

“There, now don’t you feel foolish?” he thought when nothing did.

As he was about to walk over to Vergan, his head began to spin. There was a crash and he looked up to see that his friend had knocked a vase over as he stumbled to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I suddenly felt light headed,” his friend began as he picked himself up.

Artek felt his guts twist and considered dropping the sword when he felt the sudden urge to turn around. His hackles rose as he turned his head and saw a guard standing at the window, staring right at him. Their eyes locked, and Artek watched in horror as the man placed a tin whistle to his lips.

“Run for it!” Artek yelled.

As the whistle’s high pitched shriek pierced the night air, Artek broke into a sprint and dragged Vergan after him.

“We’re finished,” Vergan moaned.

His face was pale, and his nervous sweat dripped on the floor as they ran back towards the kitchen. Behind them, the front door flew open, and a pair of guards came charging in with their swords drawn.

“What’s all that racket?” a loud voice boomed from the manor’s upper level. “Do you louts have any idea what time it is?”

Their pursuers stopped in their tracks briefly upon hearing their master’s wrath, allowing the two intruders to dart into the kitchen. As they ran to the back door, Artek saw a shadow pass the window and hauled his friend to an abrupt stop.

“What are you doing?” Vergan gasped. He attempted to move for the door, but Artek’s grip was like a vice.

Moments later, the door opened, and a lone guard rushed in. Artek’s dagger slid from its hidden sheath at the small of his back, and he lunged for the heavyset man. The youth felt a twinge of grim satisfaction when he saw the man hesitate for a moment. That moment was all Artek needed to slice his neck open.

The sword fell from the guard’s hand as he slumped to the ground. In the corner of his eye, Artek saw that the colour had drained from Vergan’s face as he stared at the body in horror. They were living in the age of Pax Dei, or God’s Peace, and only the eternal elves remembered the last time there was a war between kingdoms.

The worst violence to happen these days were border skirmishes and peasant uprisings, and Artek knew that these guards had been here protecting their lord’s manor when his army set out. As a result, though Lord Filern’s guards certainly did not shy away from the casual murder of peasants who had upset their lord, they were unaccustomed to people coming at them with the intent to kill. The man had frozen at the critical moment. It was something that cost so many of his fellow soldiers their lives in the pacification.

Artek too, hesitated at first and had survived by the skin of his teeth. He quickly learned not to give any quarter on the battlefield if he wanted to survive, and he was confident that this hard earned lesson gave him an edge over every guard on these grounds. He glanced at Vergan. His friend on the other hand…

Artek glanced down at the guard’s sword and avarice overtook him. He’d always wanted one ever since he’d joined Lord Filern’s army. The common soldiers had only been given crude spears, and the sword on his back was promised for someone else. Besides, it gave off a bad feeling, and his instincts told him to have as little to do with it as possible.

“Stay close,” Artek breathed as he scooped up the fallen guard’s sword.

When Vergan didn’t reply, Artek turned around and swore. His friend was still rooted to the spot, staring at the body in shock.

“Come on!” he hissed as footsteps came thundering down the stairs. It seemed the master’s guards were waiting for him to lead them against the intruders.

When Vergan still didn’t move, Artek muttered a curse before slapping his friend across the face. At last, the chubby youth blinked and glared at Artek. “What was that for?”

“Come on!” Artek roared as he ran out the door. In the corner of his eye, he saw his friend take off after him and breathed a sigh of relief.

As they entered the shadows of the garden, Artek felt a surge of excitement. Their line of escape was right in front of them. Then, he saw movement in the corner of his eye. Then, he saw it, a shadow moving along the fence. It looked like it was aiming to intercept them at the edge of the garden. He turned around and saw that they were silhouetted against the bright lights of the house. Hiding would be difficult and cost them precious time. Then, he spotted Lord Filern’s burly frame leading three guards out of the servant’s door.

Artek came to his decision quickly and adjusted his course so that they could intercept the guard running along the fence more quickly. Evading him would only complicate things, especially if he managed to pursue them into town where he could raise the alarm. The sooner he was dealt with, the better.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Vergun panted as he struggled to match the change in course.

Artek didn’t answer and instead tightened his grip around his new sword which he tried to keep hidden as he ran. It wouldn’t be enough to intimidate this man into letting them through. He had to die. The man noticed their change of direction and stopped.

“Good,” Artek thought grimly to himself. It would make their lives more difficult if he ran.

The man then unslung something from his back and began to fiddle with it. Artek’s mind screamed danger and he quickened his pace. When he was almost upon the final guard, he raised the object. Letting his instincts take over, Artek twisted his body. Something nicked his cheek as it flew past, but he didn’t dwell on what it might be. Instead, Artek swung his sword with all his might, catching the guard across the chest. The guard fell with a grunt, and Artek used his foot to help leverage his sword out of the man’s ribcage and deliver the finishing blow.

His emotions were high. He had just emerged victorious from a fight to the death, and the final obstacle between them and the sanctuary of the dark beyond the fence had been dealt with.

“See, what did I tell you, Vergun?” Artek exulted as he turned around. He wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while, and he’d even managed to get even with old Filern to boot.

He paused when he saw his friend silhouetted against the burning lights of the manor. He was lying flat on his back and staring at the pitch black sky with glassy eyes. It was a look Artek knew all too well.

“It was a milk run…” Artek muttered as he stared at the crossbow barb that was sticking out of his friend’s chest. "Easy as pie.”