A Family Matter

Blade for higher...and the price just went up

His tunic was emblazoned with the Red Flash of the Dharian Clan, hard dark boots now streaked with blood: Gilhart's blood. Gilhart had known his fate from the moment he saw the Flash. He stood next to the corpse calmly cleaning his blade.

"Two hundred talens richer.". He secured the dripping oilcloth bag at his side and turned to walk away.

"Oi! Oi, there, what's all this, now?"

Langhorn turned, his hand on the dagger's hilt. A fat man in a leather jerkin was puffing toward him.

"This is none of yours, soldier. This is kanly."

The old guard trundled to the top of the knoll. "Alright then, let's have it. Who's the houses? What's your part?"

This was the tricky part. Blood feud was to be waged by the families themselves. The use of mercenaries could be considered the deployment of a unique weapon by one family against another...or simple murder. Langhorn, who made his living through kai-kanlu—surrogate kanly warfare—was not inclined to let this guardsman fish for answers on the subject. Blindingly fast, he slipped his dagger between the guard's unprotected ribs along his side, piercing his liver.

"I told you it was none of yours, old man," Langhorn murmured as he lowered the dying man to the ground.

A complication like this would certainly need recompensed, so Langhorn performed the same operation in the guard as he had on Gilhart; in two minutes, the oilcloth pouch contained two hands--one with the Gilhart crest, and one with the Legion brand.

After disposing of the two one-handed dead men, Langhorn made camp in a grove of scrub pines. Too tired to even eat, he folded his cloak as a pillow, laid down, and slept with the smile of a man proud of good work done well.

NOTES: ▼

Word Count: 299
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the words "boots," "fish," and "pillow."