Diane looked frazzled and distant, trembling with the adrenaline rush of defending against her assailant. She hadn't been caught, not yet, but it was clear she would have no idea how to hide evidence or act normal if questioned.

It might be another person's first instinct to leave this alone. Sympathetic or not there was nothing but risk in getting involved with a clean-cut murder, regardless of it being self-defense. My life, however, had been built on taking such risks. After years of building a criminal organization with talent from all over, I had a good sense of potential, enough to take risks for.

In my eyes, it seemed our little Diane might be a born killer.

Killing a grown man twice your size was no walk in the park, especially after he had pinned you down to take advantage of you. The quick thinking required to adjust to the situation, utilize the surroundings, and then overpower him with a single, lethal blow to the heart was impressive. She did it with such speed that he didn't even have time to scream. With a bit of training, this girl could make a perfect subordinate. A cheery attitude and soft, innocent appearance made people let their guard down, but the job she had done here signified there was beautiful, deadly potential.

My gaze lazily traced over her form, considering things. It was a huge danger to make myself a target my first night here just for some potential, and just because she could kill others didn't mean she would want to.

Oh well. I was too much of a showgirl to turn down a performance like this anyway. Besides; I wasn't planning to play the good guy in this world, and a grand debut would have to happen sooner or later.

The hood came off my head for just a moment so that I could switch the bandage on my right eye over to the left. Tonight, descriptions of me would focus on how I was a young, crazed, hooded boy with a single strange red eye.

I cracked my knuckles.

'I wonder how little Diane would feel if I took credit for her murder?'

Bringing my bag with me had been a good idea, since after this was done I would be on the run. It was a shame I wouldn't be sleeping in a room tonight, but I was experienced in huddling on street corners.

I lept from the roof, landing beside Diane. She opened her mouth to scream, but my hand shot out to cover it, stifling the sound.

"Not yet dear, the show hasn't begun," I whispered, prying the shard of glass from her hand and tossing it on the ground behind me. It cut ever so slightly into my own as I released it. The broken bottle looked like the better weapon, and with a quick wrist flick, it swapped ownership from her to me. Her eyes looked up with fear and confusion. I had caught her so off guard she hadn't even thought to fight back.

"You want more out of this life, don't you Diane?" I met her shining eyes with my dark-bloodied one. Seeing that she had calmed, my hand slipped from her mouth. "Wouldn't be worth ending it like this, would it?" I gestured to the dead man behind us, indicating how she'd pay for the crime. Her head turned to him. She clenched a fist, eyes welling with tears and fury.

"It isn't fair." She cried, voice trembling, "He deserved it-"

I cut her off. "No time. Someone could see any second, so play along."

"Wh-" She questioned, before letting out a yell as I pushed her to the ground. My head pivoted backward, crazed eyes fixed on the sky as I let out a cruel, maniacal laugh dripping with vitriol.

"You stupid wench!" I screeched, "How dare you turn me down! Did you want him instead?" I swung the jagged bottle behind me, vaguely gesturing at the man in the alley. "Well I've killed him, and you still reject me!"

In a rage, I stomped towards the crates of glass bottles and pulled one out. I threw it just past her head so it smashed the wall with a piercing shatter.

I screamed again, grumbling and roaring like a man scorned. A swift kick knocked a crate full of wine over, the bottles tumbling everywhere with a crashing cacophony. Crimson liquid slithered away from the glass remnants, flowing like a river underneath me. My soaked shoes followed the trail as it reached Diane, mixing into her blood-stained gown. Diane began to sit up out of the forming puddle. I waded with ease through the sea of wet glass and liquor, throwing myself on her and pinning her under my weight. With one hand on her throat, my fingers bit down just hard enough to leave a bruise. Her hands gripped at my wrist, legs flailing in defiance. I didn't budge.

"Help!" She screamed, "Help me!" Her fear seemed genuine, though an odd calm in her gaze appeared cognizant of my lack of murderous intent.

"Truth is," I shouted, squeezing tighter, "I don't care about you. You're just another pathetic bitch in a world that isn't worth saving." I giggled, and let it become a cackle, before finishing with a shout "You are just an excuse to shed blood!"

I aimed for her throat with brutal precision, raising the broken bottle above my head like a prayer. A sickening, wild grin spread on my face.

'Come on, any minute now…'

"Ahhhhhhhh!" A woman's voice pierced the air, followed by the shouts of men. Lanterns had begun to come on as people peeked from their houses at the commotion, only to find a murderer as they rounded the corner and saw the bloody scene.

My head shot up with a scowl, bathed in lantern light and torches. I was sure my red eye was fully on display for all to see.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

'Okay medieval peasants, make a devil out of me.'

Just leave the girl out of it.

Upon seeing his server girl, the barkeep rounded the corner and barrelled toward me with an enraged battle cry. I rolled off of Diane, tossing the glass aside before leaping over the remaining crates and swinging back onto the rooftop.

Without looking back, I sprinted across the tiles, rounded the smokestack, and slipped back into the shadows as I vaulted between rooftops. Within minutes I had escaped all pursuit.

Once people had dispersed far enough to look for me, I slinked back to the scene to see how Diane planned to handle this charade. Here, I got my first look at the city guards. They were dressed in light armor, with chest plates and chainmail that covered the vital areas, as well as metal shin and thigh plates. Each had a helmet they held under their arms. Two knights were with Diane, one with dirty blonde hair and a lankier build who appeared in his mid-20s. His face was overly serious as he scanned around, hand on his sword at the ready. The other one was beginning to show gray in his dark hair, sporting an impressive beard and a sculpted body with clear, faded battle scars. His expression was much calmer, and his hands were relaxed at his sides. This was not his first crime scene. Despite looking relaxed, I could sense he was far more alert than his companion and exceptionally good at concealing it. The barkeep stood beside Diane, a hand on her back that now had a blanket wrapped around it. They had all moved from the glass-filled area to the tavern's side. The body had been covered with a sheet. From the darkness of a nearby alley, I listened in.

"Are you prepared to talk?" One of them spoke up, in a harsh, accusatory tone. The older knight turned to him and hit him over the head with his fist. "Ow!" He cried, gazing at his companion in confusion.

"Show decorum, Piere. You are only a squire, and there is no question this girl is a victim. I will do the talking." He chided in a low, gruff voice. With a softened look he kneeled to speak to Diane. Before addressing her, he gestured to his partner and the barkeep as if to say 'get the rest of the story from him.' The two other men wandered off to talk, leaving Diane and the elder knight alone.

"Anything I can get you?" The knight began, "We can move inside if you'd like." In response, Diane tried to stand but her legs shook and she collapsed back down. My eyes squinted in suspicion. Was that intentional? The knight caught her by the arms, softening the fall. "Woah, it's okay. There is no rush. Do you think you can talk? I promise you aren't in any trouble. No danger either, there are plenty of well-armed men nearby here to protect you."

Diane gazed up at him.

"Y-yes." She stuttered out. I raised an eyebrow. She wasn't stuttering earlier. A small smile crossed my lips.

"Alright then. Tell me what happened, from the beginning. Feel free to stop anytime."

Diane began telling the man the story, and I noted the differences. She had come out late at night because she heard sounds and was worried animals were getting into the trash. She had then been hit on by the drunk fool, who had been making the noise and had turned his sexual advances down. Suddenly, from the darkness, a hooded figure appeared and stabbed the man straight in the heart, accusing her of being a 'slut' and saying things she didn't understand. Yelling and frothing, he pushed her down and nearly took her life after getting her gown soaked with wine.

I nodded in approval. I sounded like a huge, crazy asshole, and there was no way to tell Diane had blood on her. Success!

The knight asked her about my appearance. She said she couldn't remember, it had been such a blur. When he mentioned the red eye, she replied with an unsure 'maybe.'

Eventually, not getting anything else out of Diane, he escorted her back inside. The knights began to talk among themselves, but not about anything I cared to hear.

Without a sound, I slipped back into the night to find a place to sleep.

***

Hayrod had never heard such a strange description in all his years.

'Red eyes?' He thought. That one was new. He'd never seen anyone with that color of eyes before, but so many witnesses wouldn't separately all tell the same lie. The older knight rubbed his head and looked around for his overly serious squire in training. He was still off with the barkeep, but would probably finish up soon. In the meantime, Hayrod investigated the body.

After flipping the sheet off and double-checking what he had seen before, there was nothing unusual about the death. Not even about the situation. The young girl, Diane, was quite a beauty. It didn't surprise him that foolish men might try to take advantage of her and that other even crazier men would get jealous.

So why did he feel like something was off? Sure they still needed to catch the criminal, but there was something more, a gut feeling that he hadn't been told the whole story.

There was the sense he would be seeing a lot more of this criminal before it was over. Should he report it to...? No. That man was already doing so much for them, and they were grateful to have the funding and support of royalty. To ask him personally was too much. They would find the culprit in due time, and bring him to justice. They didn't have much of a physical description to work off of for now, but people would be on high alert, and a first-time offender was almost always a second. He would commit another crime before it was over, and at that time they would identify him and put his face for bounty.

There was a process to these things. Hayrod just had to be patient. He called to his squire, informing him to have him and the other nearby knights move the body, and to rotate out the guard for the early morning shift. For now, it was time for them to rest. He could continue his perusing tomorrow.

Hayrod began the dark hike back to the East Trevel guard building, planning the report he would have to write in his head.

A sigh of relief accompanied his thankfulness to be leaving the crime scene. Although the knights hadn't been there too long, he had experienced a continued unease he contemplated mentioning in the report.

An unease that stemmed from the intense feeling someone had been watching him.