Taris let go of the shadow, a glimpse of Aera’s bare skin the last thing he could see. No need to torture himself watching her bathe. Besides, if she ever found out he spied on her in the bath, one of her hands would end him. [i]Still, she has a fantastic body[/i], he thought. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, [i]Again with the self-inflicted torture...[/i]

The assassin made his way to the inn’s tavern, picking a small table in the corner and signaling the barkeep. He ignored the glances and glares that came his way while he waited. A slightly nervous-looking wench came over and took his order, retreating quickly back into the crowd. Taris leaned back and scryed around him, shuffling through the shadows he looked out of and listening to people’s conversations.

His ale arrived and the elf sipped at it distractedly, focused on his scry. Sifting through the voices of dozens of people was hard, but could be rewarding on occasion. He shuffled through a few more times, and stopped suddenly. Somebody mentioned a name he knew. He glanced through the shadows and his ears twitched in concentration as he shifted back to the last patch of darkness. Two men a few booth’s down were whispering to each other.

“Seems Baron Kirro thinks someone’s after him,” said one, a man with a bushy orange beard.
“What? Why? Does it have to do with those Dukes?” asked the other, a man clean-shaven except for a large, waxed mustache.
The bearded one nodded, “Looks that way. A friend that’s bangin’ one of Kirro’s maids told me. Apparently he thinks they were connected.”
“But how, the first was just a random psychopath, right? And Duke Mamron and his son were ambushed by bandits.”
The Beard leaned closer, “That’s just what everyone thinks. There’s been reports of Dark Elves entering the city, but nobody can say for certain cause nobody can find them. And then there’s that strange elf what won the Archery tournament. Nobody can remember ever seeing one with skin black like that. He must not be from around these parts.”

Taris’ food arrived and he absently tossed a silver piece on the table. He continued to listen as he ate his dinner…

“Shh,” the Mustache warned, “that elf is over in the corner, what if he hears?”
Beard scoffed, “Bah, it’s far too loud in here for that. Anyway, I guess the good Baron has locked himself in his manse, refusing to come out and turning away anybody he don’t know.”
“What a nutter. Come on, I hear there’s a new brothel in the Silk Quarter that Lord Kasca frequents. If he goes there the women must be wild.” A laugh burst from the Mustache’s throat at his own so-called wit.
The Beard chuckled, “As if you could afford them high-priced whores the lords use.”

Taris let the shadow fade and finished his meal. Either the Baron was paranoid, or he’d been tipped off about the assassin. Either way, access to Kirro just became more difficult to obtain. He should perhaps lay low for a week or two, and let the suspicions surrounding the Dukes’ deaths fade.

After the meal he retired to his flat once more. Something was nagging at him, like trouble was brewing. He checked in on Aera once more, stopping to watch as someone else entered her room. It was Kentaro.