text: Miller scowls at your calm request for him to leave. "I'm afraid I can't, Sir Kit. Please, come with us. I won't ask again." You can feel your anger flaring up, and for a moment you wish you had brought your sword to cut this bastard down.
  
  "You listen to me, Miller," you growl, hissing his name out like it's an insult. "I want to live in peace. You take your Gold Hawk Knights and get out of here. Leave me be."
  
  He shakes his head. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. Knights, apprehend Sir Kit." The two knights flanking Miller approach you, attempting to grab you. On instinct, you fight back, delivering a hook to one's face and causing him to stumble back towards Miller. The other quickly draws his sword and swings, but you duck under it and disarm him. With the longsword in hand, you quickly stab him in the chest.
  
  Blood pours out of his wound as you push him to the ground. You blink, suddenly realizing what you just did. Miller and the other knight look at you and their dying comrade in shock. Miller and his ally draw their own swords, pointing them at you. "You're under arrest, murderer! Surrender or our blades will taste your blood!"
  > You can't go down like this. You'll tell them to leave again, and if that doesn't work, you'll attack.
  No. You can't let them take you like this. Standing there with bloody sword raised, you speak slowly, "I don't want to have to kill you both. Leave now and never return." There's a tense moment for a while as you stare at the two of them and they stare back. They're too scared to make the first move, and you don't want to make it. The standoff lasts for a moment longer, then...
  
  "Oh screw this!" Miller's ally yells, before rushing at you with a shout of rage. He swings his sword, which you easily deflect, then duck down for a sweeping slash that cuts through his abdomen. Clutching his wound, he collapses to the ground, writhing and moaning in agony as he slowly bleeds out. Miller stays back, examining you.
  
  "Your buddy won't die with that wound. It'll take a few days for him to bleed out all the way. Take him and go, if you know what's good for you," you say, giving Miller his last warning. Miller looks down at his companion, as though considering it. Then he shifts his gaze back to you, looking more furious than ever.
  
  "I won't let you walk free you bastard." With those words, he advances towards you. The two of you clash blades for a while, and whenever one of you tries to go for an opening the other blocks or parries. You're not as good with longswords as Miller is, specializing more in greatswords and their overwhelming force, but you're too stubborn to let him beat you.
  
  In the end, that stubbornness is what grants you victory. While Miller has been tiring, you've only been attacking more and more ferociously. Eventually, his defense slips, and you slide your blade right into his chest. His face morphs into a mask of pure shock as he drops his sword. He stares at you in fear, which quickly shifts to anger. He pushes himself forward, forcing the sword deeper into his body, while reaching out for your neck. His hands squeeze against your throat, at first tightly, then slowly weakening in strength until they fall limp.
  
  As his eyes close, you pull the blade out of him and let his corpse fall to the floor. His ally is still on the ground begging for death. You grant him the pleasure, holding his head down and sliding the blade into the base of his skull. He twitches slightly, then goes limp. You stand and consider what you just did.
  
  You could just as easily burn the bodies and head back inside, but there's no way the king would allow this. He could send more knights, perhaps far more than you could handle. On the other hand, there's the option to use this to spark a rebellion among the people. Though the king is far from tyrannical, there's enough dissent from the long-lasting war against the Empire of Kishak for the common people to attempt an uprising. With how much the people love you for your deeds, they'd join you in a rebellion in a heartbeat.
  > You can't count on the goodwill you have built up. You're going to just wait this out.
  You can't be bothered to try something that stupid. The king has well trained knights and soldiers under his command; if you put together a rebellion, it would be destroyed as quickly as you build it up. Instead of deciding to go on a pointless endeavor such as that, you begin to gather the bodies up in a pile. You cover them in dried sticks and leaves, then start a fire. As soon as it's gotten large enough to engulf the bodies, you return into your home. The servants watch as you head to your room in mingled awe and terror, unsure of how to act around you. You head into your room, lay in bed and sleep the rest of the day away.
  
  
  In the morning Bertrand comes with your bread and wine, looking a bit more cautious after what happened yesterday. You take it, send him out of the room, and spend the rest of the day eating and drinking as you always have. The next day, Bertrand comes in the morning with the bread and wine, which you take and spend the rest of the day eating and drinking. It continues on for weeks without interruption, until one day, something changes.
  
  
  You wake in the early morning hours to a yell. Your head is pounding and your stomach is killing you, but you push through and get out of bed. Stumbling out of your room, you see a man slumped against the wall: Bertrand. "Bertrand!" you shout, running to him. As you get closer, however, you notice the blood trailing down his neck. It flows freely from a fierce red slash across his throat. Bertrand is dead.
  
  
  You look around, wondering who in the hell did this to your servant, when you feel a sharp pain in your arm. Looking, you find that a crossbow bolt has embedded itself into your bicep. "W-what the hell!?" you choke out. Another bolt flies true, hitting your thigh and causing you to fall to a kneel. Footsteps approach from your left, and you turn your head to look. What you see is a man, dressed in black. He approaches you, pulling out a dagger.
  
  
  "Who are you?" you ask.
  
  
  He simply sticks the dagger to your throat and cuts. As you fall to the ground, vision darkening and lungs filling with blood, he speaks: "The king sends his regards."
  
  
  Then, all is silent.
  
  
  THE END