Aaron tested the point with his finger, ensuring it was sufficiently sharp. Life, it occurred to him, was much like this sharpened stick, in that it was more useful when prepared. A prepared life was infinitely more useful than one not prepared. He kept himself over-ready for any event he could foresee, but that came with the territory of being the king’s guard. His intelligence network had informed him of a rising threat in the eastern district of Taybridge.

He stowed the last dart in his pocket and donned his cloak, heading east. Twilight had newly fallen on the city; he preferred to travel at night anyway. Under cover of darkness, he slowly made his way through the streets by moonlight only, carrying no torch.

Passing out of the district with paved streets, he walked over the packed dirt, still damp with the water of recent rainfall. No passers-by stopped to bend his ear, but then, there were very few out in the road at that hour. Few shops were burning the midnight oil as he passed, and he stopped at an inn for a quick piece of cold ham and a biscuit.

“Some warm wine, please,” he asked the innkeeper as he brought out his fare.

“Of course.”

“Thank you, sir,” he tucked into his repast with alacrity. He was unwilling to reveal his identity or his purpose, and so avoided any small talk. The innkeeper brought the wine, and Aaron drank it, then got up to leave. He tossed a few coins, more than enough to cover the meal and wine, in the table and departed.

Entering the street again, he bent his steps once again to the east and followed the road toward his destination. Passing for nothing more than a slouched stranger to any who saw him, he walked through the city without detection. The sun began to appear as he closed on the public house which was rumored to house the traitorous woman, and he lifted the knocker once, twice.

A gruff man answered the door and demanded “Who’s there?”

“Just a patron,” Aaron answered, “looking for a pint of beer after a long journey.” Though the walk was not exceptionally long, his muddy boots and cloak gave that impression. The man looked him up and down accusingly before opening the door to admit him.

Inside, many patrons, largely women, gathered around one long dining table and discussed, loudly, the overthrow of the government. Aaron sat in a lonely corner of the bar and slowly nursed an ale along with a large pitcher of water to counteract the inhibiting effects of the beer in case he needed to spring into action. Little effort was required for him to hear the scheming conversation, and he listened intently.

The woman who seemed to be the MC of the group stood at the head of the table and gesticulated as she spoke, projecting her booming voice over the small crowd. “All they do is push us down deeper into the ground and send our men off to die for them, but we will not take any more,” Aaron stared into the bottom of his pint, waiting patiently for his backup to arrive and surround the pub. The woman continued to stir up those gathered around, “I’ve got a missive here that is supposed to reach the commander of the Third Company,” he realized now why she looked familiar, “and I plan to take it to the Baaman emperor myself!”

Besides being wonderfully beautiful, Aaron realized that she had been the chosen messenger to relay troop movement and deployment information to their Pitt allies. He spared a look around at her to confirm that it was indeed Jenn.

As he glanced round, she met his eyes. An expression of recognition flashed across her face. He tried desperately to fit into his beer mug, but the damage was done. He felt her pointing finger leveled at him before he heard her bellow “Get that man!”

He sprang into action and pulled his hand from the pocket of his cloak. Several sharp darts were clutched in his fist, and he threw the lot of them in one motion, spraying them across the crowd in an arc and causing some to fall in pain, grasping at wounds. None of the wounds were fatal, but the darts had enough toxin on the points to cause searing pain for several hours. He ran headlong at the door, plowing over several women as he chased his quarry.

His soldiers were just arriving as he burst through the door and he shouted “capture that woman!”

The men galloped off after her and Aaron made use of another horse that was hitched outside to chase the traitor. She soon passed within the border of a thick forest and Aaron offered the archers to shoot her before following one of the footmen into the undergrowth.

He heard a yelp of pain as one of the arrows found its mark and began to go that way, when he heard a male shout.

Briefly, he caught sight of Jenn as she stood and began hobbling away from him before another arrow pierced through her left breast and she fell to the forest floor. He approached cautiously and found her lying on her side and looking up at him, gasping for breath.

She should stand trial for what she had done, he thought, but she will never make it out of these woods with a wound like that.

He looked into her eyes as he raised his sword and brought it down on her neck.