The Seventh Night

It was dark and quiet. This is never a good combination, and is usually a sign that bad things are about to happen. This night would be no different.
A figure sat perched on the wall of the palace. The darkness veiled his tabard but could not conceal his eyes. The brown eyes peered out into the night, watching. He seemed like he was ready to leap at any moments from the shadows where he clearly belonged.
Then a faint sound pierced the silence that had comforted the night. It was caused by a rock tumbling ever so slightly from an abandoned building adjacent to the palace. Within a heartbeat the figure on the palace walls was gone, leaping from roof to roof. A second figure appeared in the night sky, springing up from the abandoned building. This one had caused the sound of the falling rock. And as his cover had been blown and a pursuer entered the equation, he started out in a dead run. The black-clad figure raced away from the scene of his unveiling and the creature from the shadows chased him over the rooftops. The one who had remained so silent in waiting, was now in full dash and started gaining on the assailant in black. But before he could gain, his prey jumped down and crashed into an unoccupied cart. The black-clad man rolled out of the debris and broke out in a flat run. His pursuer, still on the roof headed back in a different direction. The unknown assailant hurried through the streets, looking back but not seeing his pursuer. As he glanced back he saw the man in the tabard jump down from a nearby roof in front of him, tumbling to get up in one swift motion. As the figure in the tabard stood up, two daggers appeared in his hands. As this was a creature of the shadows, so were his daggers dark as black and they shimmered in a fleeting wind.
The black-clad figure just stopped in fear, savouring what he thought was his last few moments, but then decided that running seemed like a better option. He dashed away, straight into an alley. He didn’t look back anymore; he just wanted to get away. The alley ended and he ended up in a new street. Only here he was expected, ten palace guards awaited him with their swords drawn. The black-clad figure raised his hands in surrender as the figure in the tabard coming up behind him.
‘Don’t worry, we’ve got him, sir’ one of the guards said towards the newly arrived figure.
‘Good, search him’ he answered back. Feuntes swiped away some dust from his tabard, he probably could never get used to wearing the king’s colours. Even though it seamed only a while ago that he sailed across the world, having adventures in strange foreign countries, actually a few years had already passed. And now he was head of the palace guard, protecting the king with his life.
‘Sir’ the guard said as he handed over a yellow envelope just recovered from the black-clad figure. This is what Feuntes had feared. A number of murders had happened in Vaticine city over the past few days, each time a yellow envelope had been left. The envelope was empty but the message was clear. And now an assailant had tried to sneak into the palace carrying such an envelope.
‘Take him in for questioning’ Feuntes told the guards. He had enjoyed himself jumping over the roofs, chasing down the bad guys. But now it was time for more serious work. This is what he did now.