John squatted down in the river grass beside the road. It had grown tall enough to hide a full grown man's body, and was the perfect place for an ambush. Just the kind of place needed for today's mission. He reached down for his brown boot which splashed with dried mud and grabbed the knife hidden inside. Then he went for the other boot, now holding an identical blade in each hand.
Only a few stars, in addition to the moon, painted the black veil. A gentle breeze brushed passed him. Hooves from not too far away made the ground tremble, quaking in tempo. John prepared himself. The time was ripe. He put up his hand, making his wrist barely reach past the high grass to be seen. Then he waited. Patiently, without hurry, he waited for the right moment.
Then his hand fell, to sound the attack. He leapt from the high grass, like a cheetah on a hunt, and came face to face with an armoured guard. His blade stabbed through the guard's armour like tofu. There wasn't even time for the guard to scream.
Blood splattered onto the ground, and the moonlight made John's face visible. It was the face of a man who had lost everything. A man who lived only because he didn't dare to die. He was forty-two this year, far too old to be doing this. The once youthful face was covered with a gloomy veil. He uttered a sigh. The dark eyebrows that rested above his dim brown eyes didn't move even slightly from the sight of a man dying or the blood staining his knife. It was, after all, all too normal for him.
"Enemy Attack!" Someone screamed. John threw the armoured guard into the river and look ahead, at the caravan now surrounded by several black clothed men who were attacking the guards.They were his men.
John searched for his next victim. It was a young man, standing near the far end of the caravan. His legs were shaking, and a yellow puddle had formed underneath. Probably his first time getting ambushed, thought John. He made his way to the young man under the cover of the night. By chance, the young man turned around and noticed him. The young man held his spear up high and did his best to seem as intimidating as possible, although it was all an easy-to-see-through-facade.
Determination flickered in the young man's eyes. A second later, he charged, his stab at John so clumsy it wouldn't even hit a dummy. John easily dodged it with a sidestep, then took another step, this time toward the young man. Silver flashed in the night and John moved onward. His aims the caravan.
The young man, now alone in the darkness, looked down to his chest. Blood poured out from the gaping hole, staining his steel chestplate crimson. How did the knife pierce my armour, was the last thing the young man thought with widened eyes before all life left him.
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John didn't find any other guards on his way to the caravan. His guess was that they were busy fighting his men, or even better – dead. As he came to the caravan, he jerked the door handle. It was locked. Without thinking, he ripped away the whole door and stepped inside.
The caravan was dim, just like his eyes. A single copper lantern lit up the entire space and made it hard to see the other end of the room, all to John's dissatisfaction. His eyes quickly searched the room in hope to find the goal of his and his groups' ambush. There. Hmm? A frown appeared on his face. That wasn't the important documents his mission detailed.
From what he could make out in the dim light, the room was completely empty except the outline of a young woman. He walked closer, not afraid the least. The lantern flickered and shed light over the spot where she was. He gasped, his heart racing faster than it had done in a long time. She was... beyond his scope of beauty.
"So you're the man who's here to kill me?"
She was absolutely impeccable. Her hair was as lustrous as the moon's eternal shine. It swooped down past her ripe neck, dropping below her shoulders. She looked at him with a gentle smile. As her sapphire coloured eyes met his own, he felt his heart race faster and faster. His lips grew sticky and he couldn't help but swallow. She had a willowy waist which seemed as fragile as a sapling's trunk, and her crescent-shaped eyebrows relaxed as soon as she set eyes upon him. He forgot to respond. That's how taken he was. She laughed at his reaction, revealing two rows of Archangel-white teeth.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"John," he answered her. "my name is John."
"So John," she said, the words flowing out between her heart-puffed lips like the tones of a flute. "Are you here to kill me?"
"No," he said and put back his daggers in his boots. He looked at her again. She wasn't the goal of this mission – but would she be left alone if he brought her back to the base? Could he keep her by himself? John knew the answer. And it wasn’t the answer he looked for.
"Hard to decide?" she asked, not hurried at all as if the lives spilt outside didn’t concern her.
John shook his head. "No," he said, for the second time. "I’m just weighing my options.”
“Do tell, maybe I can be of help.”
“I doubt it,” he uttered a laugh. She squinted her eyes. “Fine, listen well then,” he said. “Either I take you to our base and let you warm everyone's bed. Or I kill the others and keep you for myself."
“Neither of the options sounds very promising,” she replied truthfully.
“I never said they would."
“But you know,” she said, revealing the dagger in her hand. “I could just kill myself with this dagger, then you’d be without anything.”
John became silent for a while. “Then what do you propose I do?”
“Win my heart,” she said with a smile. “As simple as that.”
"And exactly how do you want me to win your heart?"
"I only have one request," she said and fingered at the rim of her white. "and If you do this one thing for me, I will let give you have my everything. My virginity. My heart. Even my Soul. But until then, you cannot lay a single finger on me."
He didn' take long to nod. "Tell me this request of yours."
"That is," she said and smiled. "to help me kill the crown prince!"