Merke stared up at the dark ceiling. Tabitha slept soundly next to him with her thick arm slung across his chest, holding him in place. He carefully lifted her arm off of him, and substituted himself for a pillow. She stirred, and for a split second, Merke's breath caught in his throat as wondered if she was going to wake up.
His worries were for naught, as she simply pulled the pillow closer to her and held it against her chest tightly. Merke shivered at the thought that he could have ended up like that. He could faintly hear the phantom sound of his bones cracking and shivered again. For what he assumed to be a retired soldier, she was freakishly strong.
He turned his gaze from Tabitha and began to gather his things quickly. It was time to go.
I gained some meaningful information from her, but this cost me far too much time. My competitors certainly wouldn't waste a night like this. Merke mused as he dressed and began to hastily pen a note. He may not care about this woman in the slightest, but leaving a note was common courtesy. On top of that, she'd been useful. He placed two gold coins on the paper and folded it in half before placing it on her nightstand so that she would see it when she woke up.
Then he slipped out of the room and shut the door soundlessly. Merke's steps were entirely silent. This was one of the first skills he ever learned, though it had taken him many years to master it.
There, in the corner, sat the mangy man, penning something by moonlight. From a quick glance, Merke could see that his pen was gilded. A curious thing for a moldy madman to own, much less use with such grace.
Merke crept towards the man, taking extra care to move silently, and to avoid moon beams, so as not to cast a shadow. The tavern floor was quite large, and much to Merke's chagrin, quite rickety. He had to keep one eye on the floor at all times, so as to avoid stepping on a dodgy board and ruining his approach.
Step by step, Merke closed in on his prey. He was now close enough to barely make out what the man was writing. The man's handwriting was neat and entirely unfitting for one of his appearance. While Merke would have liked to say this was just proof that appearances could be deceiving, he knew for a fact that this man was up to something.
Now, Merke was behind the man. He had already been armed with suspicion, but now he drew a curved blade from his belt. The hilt was short, specifically sized to fit his hand and his alone. The blade was curved like a hook, and the edge was serrated. This blade was meant for cutting throats and nothing else. He put on a pair of black gloves, and prepared to make his move.
Bothersome as it may be, I should question him before I kill him. Can't go about killing people for mere suspicion. Merke thought as his arms shot out, and he put the blade to the man's neck, and covered his mouth with his free hand, taking care to place his palm against the man's teeth, to prevent any attempt at biting.
"Make no play at madness, and answer my questions. If you scream or move, I will tear out your throat. Do you understand? You may nod." Merke spoke softly in an even tone. To emphasize his point, he pressed the point of his blade to the man's neck hard enough to draw a single pearl of blood to surface.
The mangy man hesitated for a second, but gave his head a quick shake without further threatening. Merke held his hand there for a second more, before loosening his hold just enough to allow the man to speak.
"Oh, and just to be sure, do not lie. I will know, and you will reach the previously mentioned conclusion. Now, My first question. Who do you serve?" Merke asked, maintaining his tone from before.
"There are many middle men that my reports go through, but I serve King Albric of Tarm." The molded man said. His voice was tight and brittle, making it clear that this man was hardly holding his composure. Unseen, a thin smile stretched across Merke's face.
"My second question. What is your mission in this town?" Merke's voice was smooth, confident, seemingly to make his advantage clear.
"To gather any passing intelligence that I may regarding the Sage of Thirteen Circles and the Child of Prophecy, and to spread rumors concerning the Thorned King." His voice was weaker this time, ever so slightly closer to breaking. Merke's smile widened. Typically it was more difficult to shake up his targets.
Merke took a closer look at the man. In the moonlight, he could see that beneath the beard and grime, this mangy fellow was no older than twenty two.
But how could no one else see through this..? Unless, there were some minor enchantment on him. People like Tabitha don't have my eyes. Just last year they would have tried to hide this beneath grease paint. I suppose Tarm is trying harder now. Merke mused, casually pressing his blade deeper into the young man's neck. A thin lance of blood raced down his neck, and his eyes watered from the pain, but he dared not make a sound.
"All right, My third and, potentially, final question. Do you know who I am?" Merke's tone was softer, almost friendly. Yet, the young man began to shake under his captor's grasp. The words were unnatural, and were very clearly a death sentence.
"... Ye-" Before the man could give his affirmative, Merke's blade sunk into his throat. With a slight yank, Merke slid his dagger through the poor youth's throat, severing his wind pipe and spraying blood across the table.
The crimson spray arced through moonlight, shimmering beneath the night's eye. As the blood fell, Merke raised his index and middle fingers. Instantly, the blood stopped in place, held by some unseen force. Then, Merke lowered his fingers, commanding the blood to sink down, placing each individual drop into it's shadow.
When the blood finished sinking, the table was clean as it had been before the murder. Merke sighed, and wiped his blade on the man's shirt. He stowed the blade on his belt, and then placed his hand around the dead man's neck. With a slight grunt of exertion, Merke lifted the man into the air, high enough that he cast a shadow. Just as before, he raised two fingers, and the man froze in place. Merke removed his hand, and lowered his fingers, dropping the corpse into his shadow.
A few seconds later, the only evidence of the spy's existence was his notebook and pen. Both of which Merke took and placed in a pocket within his cloak, fully erasing the moldy spy.
What an amateur. His capability aside, I must have more following than I knew. They shouldn't have caught wind of my presence here for at least another two weeks... My mission was known to my king and his other... advisors... Shit. Merke pondered as he pulled his hood up again and made his way towards the door.
It was clear to him now that there had to be a double agent within the Thorned King's cabinet. Troublesome. Merke slipped out the door, into the biting cold of the night. He winced, and began to slither through the shadows as he done on the docks.
If his mission had been compromised, what kind of counter measures had King Albric taken against him? Clearly that boy had been a lookout of sorts, but the locals didn't know of his arrival. If they had, Merke was certain that Tabitha would have been more on guard.
The thin man cursed his luck. First, he'd been given a vague mission with minimal information to go off of, and of course it had to have world shaking consequences if he failed. Then, the weather had taken a turn for the worst. Finally, there was some kind of double agent in the Thorned King's cabinet, who had sold him out to Tarm's intelligence.
Frustration began to burn at Merke's resolve, but rather than weakening, his determination only strengthened. Times like this, bothersome as they are, gave him the best chance to prove his worth, and to curry favor with the Thorned King.
More importantly, the Sage of Thirteen Circles was involved. Troublesome, but perhaps in lesser way than his spotty cover. Perhaps a folk hero could help him find the Child of Prophecy. He'd heard tales of those kinds of people having a connection of sorts.
In any case, the Sage resided in Coolidge Forest. Merke had never been in the forest, but he had at least heard of it, and knew it's location. So to the west Merke turned.
Merke had heard that the best way to find a hero was with another hero. Supposedly they were drawn to each other by destiny, or something similar. Perhaps it was time to recruit a hero.