A pair of heavy, rugged black boots jumped and thudded on the biggest of tables, right in the middle of the main tavern room, crossing with two much smaller and cleaner shoes. Loud singing and clapping in rhythm echoed in the stale air, as Athran turned around in a fast dance with some woman. They danced and they sang, holding their jugs with one hand while the other was entwined with each other's and placed on their hips. He was singing as loudly as he could, his melodic voice grasping the song much better than the drunkards around, and he saw the woman grinning at him.
The business was going well, better than well. It was the first time in several weeks when his money bag was clinking with coins, full and heavy, and he could even afford new clothes that didn't altogether stink from wine, dust and his own body. Off course, it was no clean business, not at all. Rich nobles pay well for a silent, deadly assassin, and his sense of honor and loyalty to his homeland was long lost, drowned in the blood he spilled in his youth, when he still believed that idle talk like a fool. Now he was older and wiser, and cared naught who he was killing - only how much is it worth.
During the last three days, he was constantly busy, and money was raining like in a summer storm. He didn't waste it, though - he slept in the same rooms and ate the same food as when he hardly had an iron coin in his pocket. He spent all on weapons and armor, the most precious things to him.
But no matter how good the business was, he had to keep it secret. Nobody could know what he's up to, nobody could even speculate what he's up to - and so he spent every evening, just like today, pretending to be completely drunk, black out in his room, and then disappeared through the window. It was going well, and everybody seemed to believe...
There were some that were suspicious of his sudden money, especially merchants and traders, but for those, he didn't care, since their wits were slow and they knew little of the ways of the world. He was hidden before the world, living in the night when nobody is watching. Knight-not knight, he'd trade the remains of his honor for a mountain of gold any day.
He raised his hand, clutching the jug, to his mouth, and pretended to drink, but instead just spilled everything around in their fierce dance. It didn't take long till he stumbled down from the table and walked to the counter, asking for more wine with a wide grin on his face.
"Let it rain..." he laughed. The innkeeper pulled a pretended smile at him, but rolled his eyes when he turned his back to him. Athran was nothing but a lost existence that can't hold himself to him, but he was paying well, and as long as a customer pays, their life is irrelevant.
He returned to dancing. Someone tossed him a lute, and he didn't hesitate to play it, strumming the rugged strings. The time came when the night was darkest, and he dropped everything and strode towards the door.
A dark man with wide shoulders stopped him in the doorway, pointing a dagger at his chest.
"Where do you think you're going, spear-ear?" he growled. Athran popped his eyes out, unable to let out a sound.
Thoughts were racing through his mind. He could simply grab his wrist with the knife, break it, take the knife and kick him into the mud. The option of stabbing him was also simple... But then he would get into serious trouble. After four successful assassinations he couldn't be found like this, revealed by attacking some commoner.
What did the man even want off him? Did someone know about his affairs and dirty work? Oh good gods... If someone knows, there will be a lot of work and a lot of bloodshed. He only really, really hoped it wasn't that.
If someone knew, he'd be most likely dead, or hanging in chains somewhere in dirty, wet dungeons. He still remembered the irons on his wrists from when he was chained for the last time... And it wasn't something he'd like to repeat, but imagining his head severed from his body was a worse thought.
He gulped. His hand sled to a hidden knife in one of his pockets. If this man tries to do anything, he'll stab him...