As he descended the stone steps, he noticed his hands were shaking. He put his right hand on the wall and his left on his hip as he took each step, in an effort to make the shake less noticeable, if nothing else. With a terrible knot caught in his throat and cold sweat trickling down the sides of his face, he reached the bottom.
He'd descended ten flights of stairs by that point, and before him stood a door. He paused to hear, and catch his breath; with no noise coming from above – and no noise seeming to come from beyond the door – he lay on the floor, with his back on the wall, to rest. A few large breaths afterwards, he pushed himself up. He leaned against the wall for a bit, trying to calm his nerves, and then turned to the door.
He pushed lightly against it, but it didn't move. It barely made a sound. As anger and frustration started building up within him, he crouched to take a look through the lock. He could see very little, but could still make out a fire-lit room. If there's a fire, there's probably people… he thought.
Letting out a deep sigh, he stood up, and held his head as it throbbed in pain. This is already going far worse than I expected... Thinking back to when he was navigating the hallway above, he tried to remember any other exits that led to a stairwell... No, he thought, none…
Damn it all to Oblivion. He took out his shiv, and kicked the door, releasing some of his anger in the strike. It did not produce as much of a noise as he'd expected it to, so heavy did it appear to be, but he had to hope. He kicked again and again, and then threw his body against it. And then – after what sounded like an unbarring – it opened, and before him stood a guard. There was a single second in which they made direct eye contact, the guard frowning in confusion – Coster wearing a similar expression (though his stemmed from anger, and despair), and he thought maybe this was a bad idea. Once that second passed, the guard drew his sword as Coster threw himself upon him, his shiv clenched tightly in his hand and aiming for the guard's throat.
He was not as lucky this time as he was with the other two guards. This one did not fall when he was attacked, but did recoil across the room. Unfortunately, the guard was also able to elbow the shiv out of the way with his off-hand as Coster lunged, and was not harmed.
Thus, with his sword drawn, the guard charged forwards, his blade pointed forwards. Coster was in the position to close the door, and so put his back against it as he pushed it. He did not do so for long however, as the guard was fast upon him. Coster dodged as late as possible, sidestepping to the guard's right; as he'd hoped, the guard missed him and fell on the floor, closing it for him. Whirling around, the guard sliced once, twice, and then performed a low thrust – huffing with each strike. Having avoided the first two attacks with back-steps, Coster found the opportunity to retaliate on the third, stabbing the guard's wrist with his shiv. As it pierced his skin, Coster used it to pull the guard towards him.
Already having extended his body in the thrust and being off-balance, the pull Coster performed send the guard stumbling down, his hand hanging in the air as Coster controlled it with his shiv. Putting a leg around the man's sword arm and a boot against his throat (the shiv still in him), Coster said:
"Drop the sword, and don't make a sound."
The guard glared back, but released his grip on the sword, as blood trickled down his wounded arm. Coster picked it up with his off-hand, and drove it into the guard's throat. He didn't have the time to react.
Taking a look at his surroundings, he realised he was standing in a small common room. There was a roaring fireplace with kettles of food above it, and a large table with several chairs. Two of the corners of the room were also stacked full of lidded barrels – he was surprised neither him nor the guard had tripped on them. The door he came from was closed but unbarred, whilst the door that led out of the room was closed but could not be barred. He only hoped no one had heard the struggle. He barred the door he entered from and placed the guard's body in the corner of the room. He then pushed a table and some chairs in front of it, attempting to make the whole arrangement look as normal as possible.
Having done that, he went to the door that led out of the room, and slowly opened it. Seeing and hearing nobody around, he exited the room, and found himself at an intersection. Three hallways stretched out, to his front and flanks. Stone walls, ceilings and floors, with carved wooden beams on the corners and every few feet. He wasn't sure if they were just decoration or actually had any structural benefit. Each hallway was dimly lit by candles on sconces, and whilst the right and left ones led to other rooms, the one to his front split after some distance. He chose the one to his front, and crept forwards, listening not only for threats, but himself also – to make sure he was moving stealthily enough.