Chapter Fifteen
The next day, the boy woke early so that he might seek out the Raven, his newest friend in his small world on the farm in the country, where only he and his grandfather had lived for the last few years.
"Did you learn of he? Wasn't me! Wasn't me! Indeed." a voice suddenly says. The boy, twirling around, sees the raven perched on the wooden fence near the house. "Not yet! But it's so exciting! The Assassin is going to fight with the remaining Knights!" the boy explains, then realizes that the Raven doesn't know the entire story.
"How many left? A Kingdom Bereft. Their Knights dead and gone? Indeed, Indeed." the Raven says, and lets out a mighty "Koo-raw, Koo-raw!" and with that, he shows the boy a mental image of a pile of seeds, and files off to find them. Waving goodbye to the bird for now, the boy goes about his chores.
Grandfather trains the boy later that day in the way of dagger fighting, and more of herbalism. "All very useful skills, my boy, that's why I'm showing you. As you may need them someday. Perhaps it's time I considered sending you off to school, seeing as how I have that gold saved in our favorite treasure spot…" Grandfather reflects.
The boy, sensing that he might soon be sent away, quickly says, "Not before I get to hear the end of the story! No way!" Grandfather smiles at this and says, "Of course not, now wash up and we'll get dinner." And with that, they go in for the night.
"Ready, my boy?" Grandfather says. "Yep, all set!" the boy says, waiting eagerly for the story to begin.
"Sir Bolor was walking back to his chambers after the great hunt that the King had decreed for the day, the one to prove to the rest of the world that no Assassin was going to ruin his life, when the candles in Sir Bolor's room suddenly all went out at once. Then the heavy door slammed shut behind him, with a loud thud of the locking bar in it's place. Sir Bolor, a huge, battle hardened man, still dressed in his armor, but without his shield or helm, drew his sword almost immediately after this. "You're going to have to fight for my blood this day!" Sir Bolor roared at the darkness. But the Assassin, ever a pragmatic sort, set about the Knight without a single word. Clangs in the darkness resounded like a strange symphony of death, with sparks setting off where the two combatants collided in the meager moonlight filtering in through the window. Sir Bolor, being trained in night-fighting, surprisingly held his own against the streaming wall of blades the Assassin spun around him with both hands. But it was not enough, for even with his armor and sword, Sir Bolor was without his shield, and because of this, he slowly began to lose the battle. Tearing across the bed, through the pillows, over the night-table, crashing and slashing, both combatants fought ferociously. Sir Bolor even managed to pick up a candle holder and throw it at the Assassin with a thud against his chest. Just as the Assassin was closing in for the kill, pounding on the other side of the door began banging loudly against the strong oak.
With renewed energy, Sir Bolor grabbed the side of the large bed with his free hand and picked it up with the Assassin still standing in it! With a mighty tumble the bed crashed toward the window, breaking it completely apart, spraying glass to the stones below.
But the great wooden bar held firm, and the would-be rescuers on the other side could still not get in. Peering over the side of the tumbled bed to try to find the Assassin, Sir Bolor found nothing. No Assassin at all. He then turned and released the great bar on the door, and found three guards crashing into his lap.
After getting them off of him, and assuring him that he was still all in one piece, the guards began to file back out of the room. The last one turned to ask Sir Bolor what all the commotion was, and found Sir Bolor standing there staring at him, with a look of utter surprise painted across his face. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, Sir Bolor didn't move. The guard, suddenly worried, grabbed the Knight to steady him, and found out the reason for Sir Bolor's expression. He had been backstabbed from behind, just above the collar of his breastplate, right in the neck! Sir Bolor then fell over with a resounding crash and clang of armor, despite the smaller guard's attempts to support his weight.
A thorough search of the room immediately following this found nothing, nothing at all but the dagger, left as a calling card in Sir Bolor. It was later assumed that the Assassin had used the open window to escape." grandfather pauses while reading. "And that, my boy, is why you never, ever, assume that your enemy has fled the battlefield just because you brought in reinforcements and can no longer locate them." grandfather says in his familiar lecturing way, making sure the boy is listening.