Using Lorma's carrier owl, I sent my letters off to Trin and Seamil hours ago. And it wasn't long after I did when Seamil replied, conveying his absolute shock and dismay at the accusation against me. He promised to do everything in his power to prove my innocence.

I knew he'd have my back in this but it helped deeply to see it written down. Not a good friend, but a brother.

Trin, on the other hand, hasn't answered. I sent the letter to her home. Maybe she's not there. I'm slightly worried but she can handle herself.

A knock rattles my thoughts and I look away from the portrait of Fey, her eyes seemingly moving from the flickering candle light.

'I'm not the sheriff anymore,' I call out. 'You don't need to knock.'

With a look of pity and sadness, Tready enters the study before saying, 'Sir, Jac just came back from Sir Blouf's residence--'

'And?' I say, anxious at any information. Just hearing the tiniest would comfort me.

'It's swarming with the king's guards. Jac asked if we could see the crime scene and he was quickly dismissed.'

Getting into the residence and searching for clues to the real killer is my only hope at not being executed.

Shit.

'Thank you for telling me,' I reply.

'Also, sir, I sent a message to the examiner,' Tready continues, 'asking if he could get in touch with the palace's. They're good friends, are they not?'

I nod.

'I'm sure he can get something from him,' Tready adds, 'information about Sir Blouf's murder.'

'Yes,' I pipe up with relative delight. 'It was a very good idea to do that.' I'm not surprised at his well-reasoning. I've taught him and the others well. 'Thank you again.'

'There's something else.' Tready moves closer to the desk. 'The king has put a guard on almost every corner of the city. There's one outside here. He just came. Scar noticed him.'

From my chair, I get to my feet and hobble across the room to the nearest window. Then peeking through its blind, I see him. He's at the far end of the street, standing and staring in this direction.

'The king is determined to find you, sir,' says Tready.

'Indeed he is,' I breathe back.

I'll need to be careful tonight when I leave for Trin's. Even if I don't receive a message back, staying with her is the plan. Now her accepting the plan is another story. But I'm sure she will. We've been through too much for her to leave me out in the cold.

Unfortunately, she still hasn't answered my letter when night falls and I'm getting more worried. But maybe she has company over. A woman that has kept her.

And now with the blinds open and the candle extinguished, I stare out at the king's guard from behind a bookshelf, his armour shimmering in the starlit night.

Suddenly, I hear the study door open before the dim beam of a lamp washes over the bookshelf.

'Pannor, are you there?' comes a whisper.

With my mind continuing to play tricks on me, I think it's Fey at first and my heart leaps like it hasn't leapt in ages.

'Pannor?' comes the voice again.

'Over here, Lorma' I reply, sticking my hand out above the tomes beside me.

Lorma places the lamp down and finds her way over, joining me in staring outside.

'Any more news?' I ask her.

'Tready informed me only a moment ago that the city's lawmen have been told of the accusation against you,' she replies, 'And by decree from the king, they're to join the king's guards in searching for you.'

'I'm not surprised by that. I am an outlaw now.'

'Please don't call yourself that, Pannor.'

'I'm just speaking the truth.'

'I've gathered some supplies to take with you, Pannor. They should hold you out for a few days. And are you sure you don't want to hide here? This is a big place. It will be easy to vanish.'

'It may be so but if by the minuscule chance I'm caught here, the king may sentence you to death for helping me.'

A moment of silence falls between us before Lorma asks, 'When will you be off?'

'Soon,' I reply. I then gesture to the king's guard outside. 'Not surprising but that man is a man of routine. Every once and a while he leaves his post to walk the neighborhood. The next time he does, I'll sneak out.'

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And it's not long after when it's time.

Down in the laundry room, at the opposite end of the house, my men and Lorma see me off once again.

'We need to stop meeting like this,' I joke as I sling my satchel over my shoulder, but it falls on deaf ears.

They're nervous for me.

'One of us should come with you, sir,' says Tready. 'I should come with you, sir.'

'I'll be fine,' I reply. 'I need all of you to continue with your lawman duties, to continue investigating the Night Cleaver and to help find out who really murdered Sir Blouf. Yes?'

'Yes, sir,' my men say at once.

'Good.'

'Remember, sir,' adds Jac, 'there are king's guards everywhere. You'll need to watch yourself.'

I nod before saying, 'Well, all of you, here's to seeing you again. Oh, and if a letter comes for me, rip it up and burn it. Leave no trace.'

'Will do,' says Scar.

With that, and as Lorma begins to tear up, I open the back door and breathe in the night air. Then stepping out, I don't look back, continuing on a path of stepping stones through the backyard until I reach a rusty gate.

A moan from the swinging bars salutes me into the unwelcoming city.

After making sure the coast is clear, I hasten to the shadows and start prowling the gloom. Soon, I feel as if I'm a ghost, as if I've become the Night Cleaver.

Found on my patrols, I take the city's shortcuts, the secret passageways only a few souls know. And it keeps me unnoticed until a flash of metal from an armour plate skips before me as I shuffle down a narrow crevice.

The king's guard pauses on the street ahead and gazes in my direction. It's too dark to see me but he senses someone.

'Who goes down there?' he growls as I continue towards him, my footfalls as silent as a grave.

I don't respond and watch as the king's guard stays rooted to the spot until I'm only yards away.

A wisp of breath escapes his lips as he grumbles, 'Fucking vermin.'

Death could be swift for him if I desired it. So swift that he wouldn't know what hit him.

'Fucking vermin,' he says again before turning and carrying on.

Stepping out of the crevice, I follow, padding directly behind.

It's then that something rekindles inside of me. A thrill. A thrill I only found on the battlefield. It calms me.

Is this what the Night Cleaver feels while stalking his prey?

Disgusted at the thought of a shared feeling, I leave the tail of the guard and slip into an alleyway, continuing on towards Trin's.

It is shortly afterwards, however, when a huge obstacle stands in my way.

The inner city wall.

From behind a discarded and moss-laden wooden barrel, I spy the gate and see a dozen guards, both regular and belonging to the king. The portcullis is closed, a rare sight even under the siege.

Fortunately, I know a way to the other side without being noticed.

Entering the park, my body begins to pound with heartache. I've been here many times since that day, when my world was taken from me, and it never gets any better.

I can't bear to look at the spot where I found her, found Fey, and swiftly carry on through a patch of gourds. A pond lies beyond, the entrance to a storm drain on the other side.

Wading through, water seeps through the cracks of my boots. And as I reach the grate of the storm drain, I grab a hold of the bars, rip it off and enter.

With only the brick walls to guide me, I traipse through the confining blackness, eventually coming to a fork. Turning left, squeaks and scurrying at my feet greet me. And several trodden rats later, the brick scratching my steering fingers turns to stone.

The foundation of the inner city wall.

Soon, I'm shuffling through the beams of moonlight descending from grills above my head. Talking drifts down too.

King's Guards.

Their voices fade as I proceed, my surroundings slowly beginning to shrink around me. They close in until I have no choice but to crouch, my knees almost touching my chin.

My leg does not appreciate the torment, creaking with every step.

But my limb's objection is only short lived as I come to the end, to another barred grate, albeit smaller. After peering out and seeing no sign of movement in the street on the other side, I open the metal lattice and clamber through.

As I stand up, my leg wails again. Much so that I stagger and drop the grate, making it clatter to the ground with a loud echo.

Shit.

The pounding of boots follow before a king's guard emerges into the street.

He sees me immediately. But does he know who I am?

'You, stay where you are,' the guard bellows and I do as I'm told.

If I could run, I would.

As he slowly approaches, the guard asks with weight, 'What is your purpose here? You do know there is a curfew?'

I don't respond.

'What is your name?' he yells.

If he keeps this up, he'll attract more guards, but again, I say nothing.

He continues to creep towards me, shouting commands, until he comes to a stop and goes quiet.

Now I can see his long narrow bearded face, meaning he can see mine.

'Pannor Harg?' he hisses, breaking the silence, his quizzical look turning to anger.

'That is me,' I reply with dignity.

'Get on your knees.'

'I'd rather not.'

'Get on your knees, traitor.'

Traitor? That makes me livid.

'Make me,' I growl.

'It will be my pleasure.'

The king's guard unsheaths his sword. And once he inches closer, we share a little dance, sizing each other up. Then I wait for him to make the first move.

When he does, yanking his sword over his head, I pounce as if I was young again. I swat his slicing thrust away with one hand and plant the other between his eyes, knocking him out cold.

Dropping the sword, the king's guard buckles to the ground.

Leaving him to his slumber, I leap back into the shadows. It takes me half the night to reach Trin's street, but thankfully, I don't run into any more guards.

A figure awaits as I approach Trin's house. Whoever it is, they're banging on the front door anxiously.

Edging closer, I see it's Trin's lover. And for some time she keeps on knocking.

Shit, Trin's not home.

The woman eventually halts her calling and goes back to her house across the street.

What now? I want to know if she saw something at Sir Blouf's residence.

With no other choice, I elect to wait for her inside. Hopefully she'll forgive me for breaking in. But as I creep to the side of the house, I find that someone has already done so. A glass pane from a window lays shattered on the ground.

Panic stings my senses.

Shit.

I crank my head, listening for any sign that the perpetrator is still inside. I hear nothing but they could still be here.

Carefully, I open the window and grab a chopping log nearby, dragging it over. And with its help, I scramble through the window and into the dark sitting room where Trin served me tea.

'Shit,' I blurt out once my eyes adjust to the lack of light.

There has been a struggle. Chairs and furniture are overturned.

I shuffle through the mess and to the door to the room. Then opening it, my eyes draw to something down the hall. Seeping through the bottom of another door is the flicker from a candle.

Squeezing out, I inch over, passing slashes carved into the walls. Once over, I place my ear on the dried, unpolished wood of the winking entrance.

Nothing.

I take a deep breath, rock back before leading with my shoulder. And as I burst through, a wave of foul, putrid air swarms around me.