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WriTEathon
A job well done.

A job well done.

“Good job,” I say to a knight with a sullied, bloodied sword. “Must’ve been hard, right?”

“Yeah…” he begrudgingly replies, taking off his helmet to reveal his flawless yet troubled face.

I bend over, using my knife to decapitate the corpse lying in front of us.

“This is still worth a ton of money though, so pep up champ,” I tell him, slapping the back of his armour in a friendly manner.

He sighs and remains stationary. “I guess…”

Waiting for him, we both stare up to the starless new-moon night for a while.

Looking back at him, I creep slowly behind him, pocket him some gold and whisper, “Want to see her?” Knowing he was about to deny it anyway, I step back and say, “Dude, just go in, I’ll cash this out and join you when I’m done.”

Turning around to see his half-conscious nod, I walk off down a certain alleyway, somewhat hoping he was actually listening past his thoughts.

When I’m far enough away, my walk turns into a sprint. I use my ability to jump over scaffolding and utilize many shortcuts on my way to the ‘bank’, bagging the head whilst I do so.

Eventually, I reach my goal, an unmarked building in a pitch black dark alley, and give the ‘secret’ knock.

“Password?” a voice behind the door asks.

“Want me to kill you, 'Jonny'?”

“Woah, no need to get personal sis. Well, you know the drill, they’ll kill me if I...” they say, and I know how flustered he probably is knowing I was on the other side.

“Just let me in,” I demand, cutting him off. The door in front of me swiftly opens revealing a now hobbling ‘tough guy’ at the door, this being Jon.

Stolen novel; please report.

The hallways are pitch-black, but following the paths I know and the voices in the distance, I make my way to some stairs which show some illumination.

I grab behind me, feeling metal which nearly pierced my back. “Job done, pay me or you join him. I don’t negotiate.”

“Proof?” a female voice behind me says, receiving the bag I give her.

She sighs, opening the bag. “Yep, that’s him. Here, I hope to never see you again.”

“Same,” I replied bluntly, grabbing a different, heavier bag that she gives me.

“This feels light,” I comment, turning around to face the blonde, lecherous vixen who hired me.

“Its platinum, not gold,” she answers, giving me a look as if she was egging me to look for myself, which I did. The white sparkling coins from within tell she wasn’t lying, so I nod back and swiftly leave.

-

Stepping outside to a sheltered, desolate area, I grab another bag and transfer ten of the twenty-two coins from within, then proceed to lock my rucksack and strap the new bag to my belt.

Having done that I move on, leaving the shadows of the under-city, I walk towards the streets blessed with actual lighting at this hour and make my way to a certain inn.

Walking in, I release a sigh of relief, because amongst the crowds I see the chiseled face and flawless armour I needed to see.

I stroll up to him, but can’t bare myself to interrupt his moment with his special miss. Before me is a scene of pure love, even the uneducated me can easily see the distinction.

Seeing him and her, amongst a crowd of murderers and casual adventurers mingling together through gambling, the look between the two is what I can only describe as entrapment of the good kind as if the room of hooligans screaming their lungs out around them were merely air to them.

The only knight still wearing his sparkling armour, his honestly dashing looks and perfect condition putting him heads above the muddied, sweaty peons surrounding him, and the bard, who although addresses the entire room with her song, only bothers to look at him with such focus and swoon, it makes even me blush.

Sighing, I slap myself and force myself to walk up to him, who, unlike before, has genuine sparkles in his eyes.

After reaching him, I slap him on the back and he opens his hand and reaches towards me without daring to break of his stare with the bard.

I deposit the bag into his hand, whisper ‘its platinum,’ and leave for the bar. Ending my night in a drunken blur like any other.