It was a cold winter night, the silence of the snow fall only second to the silence of the man standing atop the town church, shrouded by the ever increasing dark brought by the night. His eyes shone a gleaming yellow. Cloaked all in black, a red eyed raven crest rested on the back of his coat.
He watched as a man in a lionskin fur coat strode by. Most would wonder where the nobleman by the name of Dehvan Veriditane was going at this hour, however the cloaked man knew all too well that he was on his way to a meeting. A meeting to discuss his marriage to the daughter of another noble house. The cloaked man had been hired by the Grand Crest family to assassinate him before he could do so, for he was a mercenary by the name of Forhoth Crowfowl.
As Veriditane passed by, Forhoth jumped from one rooftop to another. He intended to make this quick. Forhoth lunged silently for the nobleman, quieter even than the falling snow. Veriditane barreled out of the way inches away from death, his cheek dripping with blood. In each hand the mercenary held long, curved, blood-red blades that reflected the moonlight. The nobleman brandished a cane sword in his left hand.
Forhoth spoke not; instead he lunged once more. Veriditane blocked his first strike. The second strike took his right hand. Blinded by rage, the nobleman ran at Forhoth. The sound of clashing metal rang out in the night. A flash of red came sudden, crimson blood staining the white snow. Veriditane lay breathless in the snow, a long deep wound running from his brow to his breast. The job was done.
Story written in response to the following prompt: @mariannewest/day-1929-5-minute-freewrite-thursday-prompt-looking-at-snow
