Type of Short Story: Short Story
Summary: Abelard has made enemies. The Assassin Without a Name is sent to deal with him. But death isn't always the answer.
Seized by a moment of disbelief, Abelard gasped when realization of what had happened hit him. It's not every day a man falls prey to an assassin, especially after having just wined and dined said assassin at his own table. It's not a usual part of my fee, the wining and dining, but I don't pass it up when it can be arranged.
His lardship moaned, and fell to his back, still clutching his gut. Strange that there was no blood…
I sighed. Killing a man when he was down was too much work. Not very sporting, either. "Get up," I said.
"Why have you betrayed me, my friend?" Abelard asked between moans as he curled himself into the fetal position.
I'd passed myself off as a fellow merchant, come to the city to move some goods. "I did not betray you," I said, "for I was never loyal to you in the first place. Now, get up." It was a hard thing to ask of a man who'd just been eviscerated, but Abelard appeared to be holding his insides in well enough, so not completely out of boundaries, I thought.
"You've killed me, my dear, dear friend. I bleed, and soon I shall die."
I sighed again. I'd been warned about Abelard's theatrics.
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