Evidence

Evidence

Skrie checked the wall for handholds. She'd heard the manor house the mercenaries had leased for the season was well-guarded--that was a lie. The last bit of her revenge was almost complete. All she needed to do was plant the evidence in the sergeant's footlocker.

An hour of searching later, the halfling found what she was looking for. Breaking into the compound was risky during the day, but Skrie knew that was when most of the soldiers were out harassing the locals. Over the last few weeks, her reconnaissance told her that those left during the day were still drunk from the night before. Even better.

The tiny being slipped over the rubble in the far corner of the yard. A bleary-eyed guard stumbled past, giving the pile a cursory glance. When he passed, she slipped from shadow to shadow toward the back of the villa. The rickety hen house was the only way she could see onto the roof. She could not believe these mercs didn't have a yard dog to keep out the riff-raff.

The cook's voice berating a kitchen scut worker covered the noise of her passage up to the second-story window. Real glass! Green glass. The company must have paid a pretty penny to trash this mansion. The woman's name was Lash, so Skrie traversed the corridors until she found a door with the name carved into the wood.

Skrie put her ear to the door, cupping her hand to funnel the sound. Nothing. Finding the door unlocked, she slipped into the spacious room and looked for a suitable spot to place her evidence. After placing the dagger that had killed the sergeant's lover, she snuck out through the open window and into the streets.