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Henry Winter · 01-03-08, 11:31 AM

The deer moved through the woodland. Occasionally it looked up, its ears pointed, searching, ever watchful for the dangers that lurk in the shadows. Henry knelt quietly watching the deer, still as the trees on this bright, crisp air day. His butcher knife gripped in his right hand. The deer looked down and continued eating. The old brigand moved closer as quietly as he could. The deer turned and looked him dead in the eye then bolted! “Bugger” Henry exclaimed as he got to his feet “I must be getting rusty….or old”. Sliding the trusty yet rusty butcher knife into his sheath, Henry set off through the woodland once again. It had been an uneventful few weeks. The mess the gang had made of the kidnapping and hits the brigands had been hired to do still played on Henrys mind, and though they had succeeded in one of the jobs, at least, there had been no word from Lady Jade of the payment she owed. That would have to be remedied soon.

The woodland soon cleared and Henry found him self on the Britain, Yew, Cove road once again. It had been a good hour since he had set off from Britain and he figured he must be near the northern marshes. A foul smelling swamp if ever he had seen or smelled one! Glancing over the area he noticed a few buildings in the distance. Henry moved in for a closer look, never one to pass up the opportunity to fill his pockets for free! A few old ruined looking towers and castles stood in the area. A few seemed to have guards on the walls and Henry knew to avoid those problems! Then he noticed an old ruined looking castle, its high walls left seemingly unguarded. He decided to take a chance and have a look around the old place. Taking out his tool kit he began working the lock on the front doors. It took only a short time and he was soon inside. Darkness and shadows were all that met him on his entering the first corridor. He felt his way along the darkened walls and soon found him self turning a corner to find a wall torch burning brightly, illuminating the area around it. Henry drew his butcher knife, if there’s fire there’s people! Removing the burning torch from the wall and holding it in his left hand, the old brigand continued on through the corridors and walkways of the half derelict castle. An ancient place no doubt about it and surely it had seen better days. Making his way up some old winding stairs he soon began hearing the sound of a quill moving over paper. Someone was near by. Henry put down the torch and crept as quietly as he could toward the sound. He found him self facing a half open old wooden door. Peeking inside he could see there sat an old man, his hair grey as the streets of Britain. His clothing was that of a noble, but the lack of any form of men-at-arms or guard force in the castle seemed odd to Henry. Perhaps the old man had lost his fortunes gambling or had fallen out of favour in the royal court. Either way Henry didn’t care.

He moved into the room, making his way across the space that separated him from the old man, as quietly as possible. The old man still sat at his desk, scribbling away, unaware of what was sneaking up behind him. The blade found its target as the brigand stuck it in the old mans back! A load outburst of pain leapt from the old mans mouth then he fell off the chair. Henry smirked and took a step back, so as to watch the old mans last moment without any threat to his own safety. Old hands reached for the handle but were unable to find it, out of reach, stuck to deeply, dead centre in his back. With a thud, the grey haired man slumped to the floor. Motionless, he lay there. “About bloody time!” the brigand mumbled to him self as he retrieved his butcher knife and began his search of the old place.

Henry murders a helpless old man.