Moving into the hallway, Risens felt no need to continue the effort to hide his footsteps. The thunderous sounds of the ongoing deconstruction of the late Lady’s estate hid any traces of his movements, intentional or inadvertent. The intersection of the hallway ahead still danced with the dark shadows of soldiers as they continued their thorough scouringof the grounds.

  Peering carefully down the hallway, he watched the pair dutifully rummage through a series of wardrobes built into the wall. Elaborately trimmed clothing, ancient books, and priceless artifacts were cast carelessly into a pile behind them. The workers chortled amongst themselves as they made light of the duty of rooting through the property. Perhaps twenty meters beyond them, a few doors lay open on either side, while in the distance, a staircase spiraled upward.

  Risens probably could have strolled casually down the hall, slitting throats. However, the skills and abilities that now lurked within him begged for use.

  In the opposite direction, the hallway was familiar. The sight through the opening at the end provided a limited view of the large spiraling stairwell beyond. It was a view that he recognized from his brief, yet consequential, previous visit. This was the corridor where Sir Korning had beaten the young servant girl, Aleth, a child whose name he now knew. It was here that the soldier, puffed up by the false superiority bestowed by his title, abused the youngster for the insult of accidentally spoiling his meal. Nobility was no justification for his actions.

  In death, nobles, peasants, murderers, and even kings suffered the same fate.

  There was no concealment available in the hallway as he stalked out from around the corner. The mageLights suspended from their golden sconces burned with a steady blue glow, casting a uniform light over everything they touched. There were no shadows to shroud his vengeful form, though he cared not. He reached the unsuspecting pair with a few lengthy strides. The Raven Talons whistled as he nearly decapitated one soldier while embedding the opposite blade through his partner’s fat neck. Both died with nothing more than a wet gurgle as their fleeting grasp at life bubbled from their throats.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The duty ahead of him was grim, though, one that must be completed. He collected the pair, stuffing their fresh corpsesinto the wardrobes they’d only just emptied in their investigation. The act was likely pointless as the crimson stains on the stone hinted at the gruesome secret that would be contained within the compartments.

  The quiet click of the lock engaging had only just sounded when a startled gasp echoed from over Risens’s shoulder. Nearly a half a dozen meters down the hall, his arms heavily laden with gold platters and polished silver utensils, a soldier stood frozen to the ground. His eyes were wide, his mouth hung slack. He hadn’t witnessed Risens slaying his companions, yet the alarm was clear. There was no reason for any beyond the king’s soldiers to be lurking in the manor.

  The irony wasn’t lost on him. He was, in fact, at least currently, the king’s soldier. He was Lathrenon’s silent blade.

  The King’s Rightmaker.

  There was no hiding the growing pools of blood dripping from the wardrobe, nor the crimson streaks on the floor left behind when Risens dragged the freshly slain men.

  “Hey,” the man screamed as metal clattered to the floor at his feet. His hand desperately reached for the blade strapped to his hip.

  Any subsequent words were cut short bya Talon. Starving steel buried itself to the hilt in the man’s skull, and the elated cry of the blade rose like thunder in Risens’s mind. The only thing louder was the cries of inequity belted out by its companion.

  He couldn’t resist the wicked, fierce grin that curled the corners of his lips as the clear tone of the man’s voice settled into his mind.

  In death, the man would prove useful after all.

  Wrenching his blade free, he paused and noted the glowing symbol on the right increased as the left, screaming at the neglect, decreased. They had already drunk deep and were now worked into an insatiable frenzy. He doubted that there would be enough blood in all of Halthome to satiate their desire.

  Hastening toward the staircase at the end of the hall, Risens struggled to block out their ramblings, stopping at the expected call from above.

  “Clumsy bastard. You know the King won’t pay for damaged goods,” a voice barked down the spiraling stairs. “What are you screaming about down there?”

  Cupping his hands around his mouth, Risens focused on the Voice of the Raven, mimicking the sound of the dead man’s voice.

  “You’re gonna wanna see this! Gimme a hand. I think I found something.”

  The steadily increasing cadence of the heavy footfalls approaching told him all he needed to hear.

  This would be far too easy.