It was way past dark when the weekly guild
meeting had concluded. Jean walked quietly on the tiled roads, his head filled
with the discussions and arguments 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 sun sets. His
bodyguard, Jarl as always walked quietly behind his employer, his armor gleamed
in the moonlight. For such a large and intimidating man, the swordsman could
move as quickly and quietly as a cat. Jean passed a look back and saw the
swordsman as alert as a wolf on a hunt. Jean smiled to himself, any would be thief or bandit after my purse is in for a quick
end. As if they were reading his
thoughts, two men emerged from a dark alley in front of him. There were dark,
dangerous men dressed in dirty tunics; one of them wore rusty maille under his rags, probably stolen from
a corpse that lied in some forgotten battlefield. They were armed with rusty
swords and had dirks strapped to their belts. 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. He stepped
into a middle guard stance with the tip of his longsword pointed at the thieves.
Jean had no doubt that the thieves were no match for Jarl’s experience and
sheer ferocity in battle. But even Jean knew that it was still dangerous to
face multiple enemies in battle. Time to prove that you’re worth your silver, thought Jean.
The thieves were the first to break the
silence. With a yell one of them lunged
forward swinging the sword above his head. It was obvious that he had never had
formal training in swordsmanship. With a short step forward Jarl thrusted the
tip of his longsword through his attacker’s throat with a soft crunch.....
