The Assassin of Ebonmere

Serin Sablethorn moved silently through the dark, stinking alleys of Ebonmere. Despite the cold, rainy night, a few businesses were still open. Lights, voices, and something that rang like music were the only signs of warmth and humanity in that filthy part of the town. Quickly scanning her memory, Serin reviewed all the information about Godfrey, the mysterious man who had arrived aboard a ship in the old port a few weeks earlier. As the client had informed her, a few days after docking at the port, the former pimp of the Hollow of Thirst had died under brutal and suspicious circumstances, Godfrey had replaced him. After that, the deaths didn't stop. Almost every night, a courtesan disappeared without explanation, and in the Hollow of Thirst, an atmosphere of terror persisted among the young women who feared for their lives.

Serin walked further into the maze of streets that led to the brothel. Camouflaged among the shadows and mist, she was the most sought-after assassin, death incarnate of the nights in Ebonmere, blind arrogance personified. The sharp call of a crow suddenly echoed and brought Serin back from her wandering thoughts. The brothel was right there, at the end of Pleasure Street. Despite the emptiness, Serin could smell a repulsive, oily odor in the air, a mixture of alcohol, urine, and human sweat. People are so disgusting, Serin said, suppressing the urge to vomit. How do people subject themselves to this?.. As if by some trick, she materialized on the street beside the brothel, holding her breath and moving as gracefully as a predator. The smell intensified, making Serin wrinkle her nose and want to finish the job as quickly as possible.

Serin studied the brothel's layout, adjusting her vision and slowing her breathing. The Hollow of Thisrt seemed only slightly old, but it was certainly dirty and noisy. The plan was clear. Serin would set up an ambush at the back of the brothel, the darkest and least frequented place in the area, full of garbage and waste. Suddenly, she perceived something. Holy shit, it fucking stinks back there — how many goddamn showers am I gonna need to scrub that shit off? Shaking her head, the rambling stopped. Perhaps she would ask Godfrey some questions, only perhaps. Serin liked to kill in the blink of an eye, less time, greater efficiency, no risks.

She had brought with her three sharp daggers at her waist, two karambits strapped to each ankle, and a Japanese shikomizue fastened to her back, concealed by the black tunic she wore. Serin circled the establishment as if floating and disappearing into the fog, positioning herself on the street behind the brothel. Based on her observations from previous nights, Serin knew that Godfrey always went out to the back street to smoke something late at night, alone. It was like his own ritual; Godfrey always seemed irritated, bitter, and grumpy.

As expected, the nearly 2-meter-tall man abruptly opened the back door, carrying something in his hands and in the same mood as on other nights, as Serin had observed. Everything flowed perfectly; Serin was already firmly bringing her hand to the dagger strapped to her waist, ready to attack. And then, another person came out. Fuck, Serin raged internally and withdrew. No, no, no, I hate changing my plans. Do you know what your problem is?. The other man, who had left shortly after him, asked Godfrey. A strange fellow, rather pale and with a suggestive scar on his face. Discretion, the lack thereof, Godfrey! Why so many whores? Although he wasn't shouting, the tone of his voice was threatening. Fuck you, Digby, I don't care what the hell you think. Everything's under control, I'M in control, and you know it, said Godfrey, lighting whatever he was going to smoke. Serin's ingenious mind began to work. Damn, who is this guy? How could I not have predicted this? I need to sort this shit out. I can kill him, she smiled mischievously. With no witnesses, never, she remembered.

Digby just stared at Godfrey with disdain and disapproval. Oh, really? I wouldn't be so sure about that, Digby smiled sarcastically. Damn, you're screwing everything up, the boss knew, that's why I'm here. I'm going to replace you, Godfrey. Godfrey slowly approached Digby, wiping the smile off his face. Digby, Digby, Digby...the target of serin hummed, You're not going to do shit, Godfrey drew a long, sharp dagger in his right hand. Digby didn't seem scared or threatened. On the contrary, the strange man shook his head in negation, a malicious smile lingering at the corner of his mouth. Serin noticed; she could feel a dark aura surrounding Digby, something that made her hair stand on end. I don't like this, I don't like this guy, Serin pondered, entering a state of alert. In the blink of an eye, Godfrey lunged at the other man in a rush, ready to kill him. Digby held out his left hand and whispered something so fast Serin couldn't process it.

Blood. There was blood and bits of human flesh scattered on the floor in front of Digby. The assassin's eyes scanned the floor searching for Godfrey, but found only death. Godfrey had exploded. What the fuck is this?? Serin felt her body recoil at the scene she had just witnessed. Serin, you need to go. Now. She said, taking a few steps back, preparing to leave. By the way, I know you're there, Digby spoke frankly. Serin's eyes widened, and she held her breath; her heart had raced so fast it felt like it would explode, just like Godfrey's. Shit, shit, shit, she let it slip between her lips.

Why don't you come to talk? Digby suggested with a rather disgusting voice. Serin glided out of the shadows with such speed and agility that Digby murmured something surprised. The assassin was completely covered in her clothes; only her feline eyes were visible. Why would I talk to someone like you?, Serin spoke with disdain. After a long break, Digby raised his voice, because I like to at least know who I'm killing. Before he could even finish his last word, Digby threatened to raise his left hand, just as he had done with Godfrey. But it was Serin he was dealing with. As if she were the wind itself, the assassin ran towards Digby in the blink of an eye. The strange figure had barely finished its maneuver when Serin was already there, slitting its throat with the dagger and then disappearing into the fog of the alley.