The hooded figure swerved through the crowd carrying a wooden box that jingled with each movement. Chased by guards in red, he scanned down alleyways for the fastest way up to the roofs. 

   Trickles of blood ran down his head like beads of sweat. The man was exhausted, tired of running and tired of the close calls with death. 

   A few more blocks of running, he went into a secluded alleyway hoping to scale over a wall. All he was met with was a dead end and the clinking of the iron boots. Morri turned around to see two guards making their way towards him. 

   “Nowhere left to run, Morri,” said the skinnier guard. 

   “Now, now, we’re all gentlemen here. Why not all bite our tongues to this one? What do you say?” Morri said, hands trembling when he laid down the wooden box. 

   Morri unlatched the lid and peeled it back, revealing the jewels scattered inside. The eyes of the guard’s lit up, but things were never that simple. 

   “You say you want us to bite our tongues, but what if you smack me from behind and I start to bleed? Loose ends are never good. And nothing stops us from kicking your head in and saying we're not able to find the stolen goods.” said the burly guard. 

   “Fair point. Well, I guess there’s no helping with what I’m about to do.”

   “And that is?”

   “Living.” 

   Morri kicked the wooden chest forward and scrambled to the pipes on his left. He dug into his pockets and his hands were now covered in white powder. He proceeded up the pipe and held his footing between the wall. 

   Morri let out a smug grin, he knew the burly guard was not trained to climb these pipes. And the other stickler would not last long in a fight alone for Morri excelled in running away. Morri’s ego reached new heights, until he felt the pain on his back. 

   The clanking sound of the crossbow loaded up again, firing another bolt into his back. Morri struggled to keep his footing and grip, but it was looking bleak. The sound of the crossbow loading echoed in his ear once more. And it became the last. The bolt whizzing through the air as clear as day, he could hear it.

   Yes, he heard as the third bolt sent him crashing down onto the ground. Eyes rolling back into his head.

   “Looks like he was only a piss-low member of that group.” 

   “Seems like it, now come on. Let’s send a message.” 

   The bigger guard grabbed the leg of the now dead man, dragging him to the middle of the cobbled road. The skinnier one picked up the scattered gold and jewels on the ground, placing them back into the chest to carry.

   The crowds of people did nothing more than simply walk around the man, as if it was just another day. Stepping over the long trail of blood that followed from the alleyway. 

   Sickening

   Up on the rooftops overlooking the scene, perched a young Griem. Tears were raining down like a storm down her olive mask beneath her grey hood, but nobody was present to witness her mourning. Not the man below, who had bled out. Not the stars or moon above, who hid behind dark clouds.

   Griem slowly pulled herself further onto the roof. She laid there for a while pulling her faded-gray cloak around her body, silently crying while holding her knees to her chest. Hiding from the moonlight that shone in front of her. 

   The iron clatter from the guard’s boots faded away long ago, leaving only the chatter of the busyfolk in her ear. Wiping away stray tears, she leaped down onto the lower leveled roofs below until planting both her feet beside the now discolored man. Griem looked down on the body at her feet, letting out tears without a sound. 

   The crowds of people walked by, not paying any mind to her and the deceased. For in the end, no one cries for a thief… and that’s what Griem understood. 

    People will not mourn her loss. She could give a rat’s ass even if they did. No, what she really understood was that they will only cry when something of value is ripped from their greedy hands.

   And that was her goal, to steal every fuckin’ thing in this damned city. 

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

   Griem unclenched her fists and knelt with one leg, snaking her hand into the inside coat linings of the man. Rummaging for a few seconds, she pulled out a golden sword the size of a keychain and laid it in the middle of her palm.

   “Your will passes on, requiescat in pace,” said Griem, clutching the miniature sword into her hand, “my father.”

   Griem crossed the arms of her father and ran down the wide cobbled street, weaving through the crowd. With her young age and short stature, she was nimble enough to move at ease without catching the attention of any more of the crimson soldiers.

   She sprinted on the sidewalk, catching something interesting in the corner of her eye. She stood in the entrance, peering into the dark alley with a silhouette of a burly and stringy man stomping on someone’s head. 

   “No more, please! You’ll have your money I swear!” 

   “Oh we believe you, this is just a friendly reminder!” Sneered the skinnier guard. 

   “Eh? You trust him? That’s funny, I wouldn’t trust a poor bastard like this with cleaning up my piss!” yelled the burly guard beside him.

   Their barrage of stomps continued, not letting up on the wailing man on the floor. I looked around at the crowd. Again, not even a single glance in our direction. This city can throw all of the peasants down a well and people would only be worried about the cleanliness of the water.

   Griem sneaked through the shadows making sure not to make a sound. Moving with the few years of stealth training she learned from her father, she made it behind the two guards. 

   The guy getting beat on the floor peeked at Griem through the gap of his fingers, to which she replied with a finger to her lips. 

   Griem pulled out a cold silver dagger from her belt and out from under her cloak, holding it sideways at the leather hilt. She sneaked up closer behind the guards until she was in arms reach. Their heavy breathing hid her nervousness but she has already solidified her resolve. 

   “Gah!” The burly guard wailed, falling to his knees in writhing pain. 

   Griem stabbed between the leather leggings behind both knees of the burly guard.

   “What th-” 

   With elegant movement, Griem slashed the legs of the skinny guard next. 

   “You little shit! If you kill a crimson guard you're a dead man!” cursed the bigger guard on his knees, turning around to face his assailant. 

   Griem didn’t hesitate. Before his eyes could match hers she slashed the right eye, causing him to double back in pain, letting out a ferocious wail. 

     The skinny guard looked  over his shoulder at his counterpart in fear,as he was on his stomach trying to crawl away, grasping at the rubbled cobblestone below his fingertips.

   “Let me go! I won’t tell a soul! Just let me live!” 

   Griem walked casually on the blood trail, stepping one foot on the back of the pleading guard’s head like he did to his own victim. 

   “Sadly, I don’t believe you,” whispered Griem underneath her mask. 

   With a sharp thrust, she stabbed both hands that clawed at the ground two times each. Blood spurting out onto the ground with each pull. Both of the guards laid on their backs screaming in pain.

   “Help! Someone help!” the bigger man wailed, staring with one hand on his eye, down the alleyway to the crowd passing by. 

   Once again, not even a single glance. They should be glad. This is the result from them telling the people to never mind the acts involving the crimson guards. Revel in your shit now you disgusting pigs. 

   Griem searched through the pockets of the skinnier guard first and pulled out a brown coin purse. He didn’t even try to resist. She walked over to the bigger guard and pulled out two extra coin purses.

   “Hey!” he yelled, trying to swat her with his other hand to no avail.

   Griem swiftly stabbed the hand covering his bleeding eye and pocketed the three coin purses into her cloak. 

   “What in bloody hell is this?” a voice yelled from behind her.

   Griem turned around and a patrol of four crimson guards were standing with swords in hand at the entrance of the alleyway. 

   “I’ll be taking my leave now,”  whispered Griem to herself, “find yourself reeked in despair.”

   Griem sprinted down the opposite end and climbed up a pile of crates and grasped onto the jutted cobble of the side building. Griem scaled the building slowly until a bolt whizzed past her ear, grazing a part of her hood.

   She glanced down to see the origins and saw the small wooden weapon being loaded in their hand.

   “Crossbow. Shit.” 

   Griem lunged closer to the rooftop and grasped her hand onto the ledge. When she swung one leg over onto the roof, a sharp pain surged through her lower half. 

   She looked down and to her fear, was a long piece of wood plunged into her left thigh. She tumbled over the ledge and onto the roof, writhe with pain. 

   Knowing the guards will be up any second, she gritted her teeth and snapped the arrow in half, leaving the tip inside. She brought her palm over her mask to try and muffle her whelps of agony.

    Standing up, she limped across the roof as fast as she could. The door on the lower roof below her flew open and the glares of a crimson guard tilted up at her. 

   “Fuck.”

   Griem ran to the other side, looking forward. There was a sizable gap between the adjacent roof and the one she was on but there were no other options except being thrown behind steel bars. 

   She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to resolve herself once more. Taking a few steps for momentum, she jogged to the best of her abilities and leaped over to the other roof.

   She hit the ledge hard with a thud and scrambled up to the roof. 

   “Agh!” she screamed, feeling her leg drenched in blood. 

   She knew she couldn’t just lay there. Pushing herself up to her feet, she opened the door to the building and descended down the stairs. Tumbling down the first few steps and struggling to get a hold of the railing, she grunted with pain. 

   The building seemed abandoned, floorboards cracking beneath her feet. Griem reached the bottom of the building and tightened the cloak around her body. She embraced her torso with her arms and opened the door to the street.

   The road was still bustling with people and the dim moonlight made it even better for her. She proceeded into the crowd and swiftly blended in with everyone else. The sounds of bells and whistles echoed behind her as she limped further and further away.

   After a few more blocks of painful walking, she slunked into the shadows of another alley and laid onto the garbage. She was exhausted and nothing left in her to make it just an inch farther. If the guards caught her so be it, she excelled at escaping from perilous situations.

   She started to close her eyes against her mind protest. Through squints, a hazy figure walked up to her. Her cloak flowing in the win with a...golden mask?

   “You’re going to be fine. You’ve sure made a mess? Huh, Griem?” 

   The voice wasn’t familiar. A scent of lavender became apparent as the blurred face leaned closer to her, feeling the brushes of someone’s cold breath.

   Griem couldn’t stay awake any longer, shutting her eyes to the awaited sweet comfort.