"No!"
Bren wasted no time, kneeling down and checking for a pulse while Kieran stood over the body, looking at his dagger as though it had betrayed him. The young thief's face was as white as a sheet when he looked up at the assassin. "You... You killed him...!" He stammered.
Kieran blinked repeatedly, stunned at the sheer fury of his sudden outburst. His hands were sticky with blood, and he wiped them idly on his thighs as his mind tried to rationalize what he had done.
"You killed him!" Bren stood up with tears in his eyes and confronted the murderer. "You slit his throat in cold blood!" His hand reached for the dagger at his belt.
The thief's threatening advance snapped Kieran back to reality. He brandished his dagger defensively in front of him, expecting an attack. "You'd be dead before you ever hit me, Half-Blood," he warned, his head motioning to Bren's hand, now firmly gripping his dagger.
Bren gasped and let go of the dagger as if he did not realize he had held it. It clattered noisily to the floor and he followed it down, collapsing onto his knees. His shoulders raked with sobs as he held his face in his hands, tears mixing with blood on the wooden floor.
Kieran scoffed. "Get up, you idiot."
Bren ignored him.
Rolling his eyes, Kieran pulled him up with one hand, roughly grabbing his shoulder and leaving a bloodied hand print on his tunic. "Get up! You're acting like you've never seen a dead body before."
"You killed him!" The thief swung a fist at the assassin, who expected the blow. Kieran ducked under it, flipping his dagger over in his hand and punching out with the pummel, landing a hard blow to the young man's stomach.
Bren groaned and doubled over, falling to the floor and grabbing at his stomach.
"I warned you," the assassin said calmly.
Walking past the recovering half-elf, he grabbed his rucksack from the foot of the bed and began packing, sighing as he saw his still-bloodied hands left marks on the clean fabric. He changed his clothes quickly, balling up the ruined bloody ones and stuffing them into the bottom of his pack.
Bren remained on the floor long after he caught his breath, the tears still streaming down his face. His own hands were stained a dark crimson after his contact with Rodrigo's body. He knelt at the foot of his boss, the man who had practically raised him, and felt anger grip hold of him.
He watched Kieran hurriedly packing clothes and supplies into a simple rucksack. Did he not even care that he had just killed a man - a friend? - not two minutes ago?
Bren's eyes wandered to the assassin's dagger, the normally well-kept and clean blade now sticky with The Boss's blood, tossed aside carelessly on the bed next to Kieran. Did he not even care about that?
Who is this man Bren thought he knew?
Kieran finished packing with a small nod to himself, as if putting a tick on a mental checklist he'd prepared in case he ever killed the man he worked for. He turned to face the half-elf, glaring at him from the floor. The tears in his eyes did nothing to hide the hatred Kieran saw there.
"Hate me all you want, Half-Blood," he said, snatching his dagger off the bed and moving towards the bolted wooden door, "but we've got to get out of here."
"We?" the thief asked, his voice dripping with venom.
Kieran nodded as he opened the door. "Yes, we." He held the door open partway, waiting for Bren to follow.
Bren glared at him with all the anger of the world.
The assassin raised an eyebrow at the young man's boldness. "Alright. If you want to be in the room when they find his body, be my-"
"Fine." Bren stood up on wobbly knees.
Kieran threw him a thick woollen cloak that was hanging up behind the door. "Put that on," he answered the thief's questioning look, "and pull the hood low. You've got blood all over you."
He pulled up his own hood, thin black fabric that barely covered his face, and walked out the door.
Bren complied, taking one last look at his employer and caretaker's lifeless body as he shut the door behind him.
They walked in silence, trying to hide from the patron's stares as they walked through the tavern and out the shoddy wooden door into the sunlight of the bustling street. Music drifted on the breeze, a happily lilting melody that contrasted with the noise of people passing and the darkness in Bren's heart as he followed the assassin.
"We have to leave," the Kieran remarked. "Get as far away from here as possible."
The young thief scoffed. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you, you're insane."
"And you think that you'll live a long life without Rod's protection?"
The full consequences of what had happened began to sink in to the young man's brain, and he felt the slow rise of panic burn through him. His heart raced as he followed the assassin in a daze, his mind flowing through the possibilities of what could happen to him.
Without a doubt, the city guard would be after him. Under Rodrigo's direction, Bren had stolen artifacts or important documents from all sorts of visiting nobles, all to help the Grand Advisor increase the city's power and influence. Without Rodrigo there to pardon these crimes, the young thief certainly had a long list of charges...
And Kieran's would be even longer, Bren realized as he watched the assassin's uncharacteristic hustle through the crowded streets. No wonder he was in such a rush to leave.
He followed Kieran into an alley, under the partial covering of a small awning. The assassin leaned his back against the wall near the back door of a small restaurant, the warm smell of spiced meats overpowering the stench of the streets. It would have been pleasant, but all Bren could smell was the iron tang of the blood that covered him.
We need to leave before they find Rod's body and close the gates." Kieran's words made sense, but the young thief was still angry.
"This is all your fault." He glowered at the older man as if the sheer intensity of his gaze would be enough to set him aflame.
Kieran merely rolled his eyes at the half-elf's ire. "We can talk about this later," he tried to bargain, "but right now we need to leave this fucking city."
Ignoring Bren's glare, the assassin continued. "We don't have a lot of time. I'm sure the Gran Advisor will be found soon, and then the guard's will have our descriptions from the innkeeper. I think we can make it to the South Gate before word spreads that far, though."
"You know the gates communicate through magic, right?" Bren scoffed. "The moment they find his body..." he choked on the sudden lump in his throat as he said the words. Coughing and regaining his composure, he continued. "The moment he's found, every gate in the city will be closed off."
Kieran started to run a hand through his messy hair, wincing as he realized his hands were still mostly sticky with blood. He wiped them on his thighs more in irritation than disgust, Bren noted grimly. Wasn't he the least bit repulsed by his friend's blood coating his skin? "The North Gate is closest, but it's heavily guarded. If we try to walk through splattered in blood, we'll get stopped for sure."
"We could wash it off?" the half-elf seethed.
Kieran raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure, and why don't we stop for a lovely meal here while we're at it? No rush or anything."
"We'll get stopped at the gate if we don't take the time now." Bren couldn't help but feel embarrassed at Kieran's amused smile, despite how angry he was with him. There was always something about the way the assassin rebuked him that made him feel like nothing more than a dumb kid.
"If we take the time now," the assassin chided, "we'll get caught regardless. Our best bet is to try to make a run for it."
"But-"
"We'll head for the river," Kieran interrupted, pushing off from the wall and moving to rejoin the crowded street. "We can clean up there."
Bren followed the assassin and pulled his hood lower, self-conscious about the tears running down his cheeks.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
