It was way past dark when the weekly guild meeting was over.
Jean walked quietly on the tiled roads, his mind filled with the numerous
discussions that had occurred in that large bright hall they called the
Thompson Merchants Guild. The streets
were now dark and empty, as if the life of the city had been drained with the setting
of the sun and the only company for the merchant was the occasional stray cats
looking for a meal. The desolate night streets were not without reason; thieves
and bandits, the scum of Pyre emerge from their dark holes when the night rises.
His bodyguard Jarl as always walked quietly behind his employer. For such a
large and intimidating man, the swordsman could move as quickly and quietly as
a cat, his armor gleamed in the moonlight. Jean passed a look back at Jarl and
saw him with hand on the sword hilt and eyes alert. Jean smiled to himself, any would be thief or bandit after my purse
is in for a quick end. As if to prove the truth of his thoughts two men
emerged from a dark alley in front of him. There were dark, dangerous men
dressed in a dirty tunic; one of them has a rusty maille under his rags. They
were armed with sword and mace. Before Jean could say a word Jarl had already stepped in front of his master with sword in hand. “The foxes come to the hound's jaws," he said with a fierce grin. Time to prove your worth, thought Jean.
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