Gregory slipped out the mansion window, the medalion in his hand. It had been a close call there but he'd made it. Greg made a mental note to go back and free the fur tied in the garden. 'It's just wrong,' he thought, 'No one has the right to treat them like that. I'll go back for her in a few days when the heat's off.'
Greg dropped onto the roof bellow and sprinted off the edge. It was about time he got his money.
Minutes later, Greg was outside Bicars place. It was dark, but the light shinning out of the open upper floor window was like a beacon, calling him towards what he had rightly earned. He was through it seconds later.
"Good evening Bicar." Greg muttered, bowing deeply.
"Ahhh, greetings Ghost." went the raspy voice of Bicar. He was a small, thin man who always seemed to be tired, as if he'd never slept in his life. Right now he was smiling widely. "You have my new Medalion, yes?"
"No. I have my new medalion. However, you can have it for 500 gold pieces."
"Right, the money, the money. Well, you see, I don't have the money."
The medalion slipped into Gregs pocket. "What do you mean you don't have the money? We agreed on 500 gold!"
Why am I complaining? It's worth more than that on the black market.
Bicars smile didn't fade. "Instead, I have some information that you might like to hear."
"...go on."
His smile widened. "There has been a raid organised. A raid on a village of furs. Women, children, all kinds of species of fur."
Dammit!
"Where?"
"South. 7 or 8 miles. They left at midday."
"Why didn't you tell me then? Gah, I don't have time for this!"
As Greg turned towards the window, Bicar held out his hand. "This information is worth 500 gold, yes? For the medalion?"
"No, it's not."
With one clean swipe, Greg cut off Bicars hand and dove into the night. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe...
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