Alright this is half of a story im writing for english.
And so upon the table placed was it, the sword. “My god. You found it, the sword. How is this possible? I thought it was really just well myth.” Jonathan began to speak, “Much blood was spilt on the night that I completed the task.”
“Now”, said Jonathan as he pulled out a chair at the same table that his payer sat at, in the dim, candle lit room. “It was 20,000 you offered. Due to my injuries, and the now chipped and dulling blade that is at my side. I suppose 35 would be fair.”
The payer who is known as Norman, from Cornwall, took the silver, long blade that lied on the table, and examined it. Its handle was gold, yet it seemed much stronger than gold. Its blade was the color of silver and had etchings on it that glowed when he had the sword in his hand. “You’re but a mercenary. I am better than you John.” Norman placed the tip of the white sword on Jonathan’s throat. “I do believe we can say your pay is 20, but you are humble, you did believe this sword was worth more than 40 didn’t you. Else wise you would have not brought it at all. You just want to do what was asked and stay alive, so how about you pay is 10. But I would feel bad, let’s make it 12.”
“You can’t cheat me Norman; you’re as good as dead!” He pulled out his sword, but his body merely jerked back as blood trickled down his body. Norman then left the candle lit room; Jonathan had to stay behind, and had decided on the ultimate price.
The door to the once candle lit rim was opened. As the morning let its light shine on the unwell man that sat in inside. A guard of the town was at the door, keeping people out as men 2 men from London had asked if they could see what had happened, insisting it was for the greater good.
“This poor fellow doesn’t look so good” Peter said. “Looks like the wound wasn’t that horrific. It seems to be deeper than if it were slit from behind, or slit at all. Wouldn’t you say the same George?” The other man in the room from London was looking at the candle on the table. “I suppose it is Peter. I’m sure you would know that about it, considering you seem to fancy the awful things that happen outside safe walls.”
“This candle is slightly warm; it must have been last night that this happened.” George turned to the body then kneeled next to it. The corpse had a dark leather cuirass now stained with blood, which had a cross coded with stars in the center of it. He had a white cloak on with the hood down but his head was conceived by a mask and his sword was slightly drawn. Peter who was on the other side, pulled the mask down. “His name is john; he is one of our own. I had him tracking someone for the were a bouts of an artifact. Perhaps the man we are looking for is one and the same as the one he had found.” George put his head down; he hadn’t recognized his friend immediately, not until Peter had told him the name.
“Don’t bother for remorse George; he wasn’t even that useful, as you can see. The company will send a messenger to tell whoever raised the boy up that he is dead. Lets head out there’s nothing more we can find out here.” George took a moment, and then got up. He couldn’t believe john had been with the company. “You are a wise man Peter, I’m glad I am with you, I feel like I’m in good hands.” They walked out of the building informing the guard that they would find the murderer or a Bounty hunter. “There is an inn nearby; perhaps he headed there for some drink to wash this act away”.
They mounted there steeds and made haste for an inn 10 miles up the road, west towards the castle of Cornwall in which perhaps the murdered could hide for a few days.
There horses were chestnut brown, with smaller hooves which were good for speed. They bore white cloaks and steel armor under it in which had the same cross as the corpse etched into the armor. They had steel wrist-gaurds, greaves, and cuirass. They also had broadswords which blades were sharp, and ready for…occasions. The cloaks also had a mask in which could be pulled up if they needed to hide themselves, the company wasn’t enjoyed by most including the under belly of England, and even the Higher places of royalty.
They made it to the inn by Mid-day. It was about 2 stories high and had 2 windows on the upper floor and 2 on the bottom from the front view, there was one door to enter what might be the dining hall and a sign that creaked back and forth, it had the symbol of a tree on it. “Before we enter Peter, if that man is not there or see’s us first and decides to make quick work of us…” “He won't George, I will spot him first, but perhaps you should stay behind me just in case he spots us and does decide to make quick work of us when our backs are turned.”
They entered the inn. The first room had 5 tables, a fireplace to the at the far end left from the door. There was one table in the center of the room and 4 in the corners, past the center was the door to the kitchen and a window for drinks or food to be passed through. Then to the far right to the room was a staircase that stretched on the right wall that led to a railing for the upper hallway. A window was above the stairs, that let light in, and the fire was dying due to lack of attention.
Only a few people were there. A drunk asleep on a table and an innkeeper too busy not caring to try and remove him or escort him to a bed. Then there was a man talking to a woman at the table in the far corner of the room. After the innkeeper left, they made sure that the attendants wouldn’t be a bother later and dragged them outside, making sure no stains or evidence was made. Then George went and asked the innkeeper to wait in the kitchen. “Innkeeper said there are two upstairs, he has locked himself in the kitchen. For safe reasons.”
“You let him live, alright I guess this way there is less chance of us being reported.” They sat by the fire and tended to it, swords drawn, and the blades now cleaned off. It began to get Dark outside.
