The night was dark since the moon was shrouded by the grey clouds that loomed above the quiet town. The city had gone to sleep after a fair day's worth of work, lanterns and candles snuffed out. A handful of civilians, along with a platoon of sentries, wandered the shadowy roads that winded around every building and structure, wielding only torches.

A pair of guards leaned against a stone wall, resting their torches upon a wall stand. With every movement they made, the clanking of armor resonated abruptly, but quickly dissipated in the air. The shorter guard took a seat on a small barrel as he unhooked a flask from his belt. He took a swig of the ale and tossed it to his partner, who nearly dropped it. The second guard, taller, but also plumper in the waist area, held the flask up in the torchlight, examining the designs grooved along the bottom.

"S'been quiet lately, huh?" the shorter guard muttered. He glanced up at the clouded sky as his partner took a sip before returning the flask. Holding it loosely with his left hand, he mumbled, "Losm, d'ya think that the Night Hunter is just a rumor after all?"

Losm clumsily took a seat on the stone pavement, fidgeting to get comfortable before replying, "Um, I don't think it's a lie." He peered up at the short guard and quickly added, "B-but, I can see why you'd think that, Rojle." Losm glanced up at the road and noticed a woman wrapped in shawls walking quietly. He got to his feet and approached her, asking whether she would like an escort back home.

"I mean," Rojle grumbled, "two weeks we've been patrolling the town, but what we find? Nothin'! Absolutely nothin'! Not even as much as a footprint!" He clenched his fingers around the polished ebony handle of his axe and huffed impatiently.

Losm stumbled back to Rojle after the woman had gently refused his offer and commented, "But that might just show how skilled he is, if he exists, that is." Losm pulled out his pocket watch and said, "Well, we're almost done with our patrol." The antique copper clock was implanted inside a thin, yet firm, crystalline box, making it seem as if it was suspended within time itself.

"Hey," Rojle spoke up, "you said you were workin' as a guard to make money, right? To help your kid brother?"

Losm nodded. "He's been frail ever since he was a baby." He clenched his fist, determined, as he added, "I hope he's doing fine... I forgot to tell him that I had the night watch today."

As Rojle hooked his flask back onto his belt, he murmured, "I'm sure he's fine." When he turned towards Losm, his eyes widened as he broke out in a sweat. "Losm..."

But Losm didn't respond. Running through his chest were several lance-length arrows, all coated heavily with Losm's blood.

Rojle drew his axe and shouted, "Who's there? Show your damn face!"

"That'd be problematic if I complied," the assailant clad in black replied from behind Rojle.

Rojle whipped around, brandishing his weapon, "You... that voice..."

With a glinting blur, the assailant revealed a large crossbow and fired miniature stakes into Rojle's chest. Though he managed to deflect the first stake, the onslaught of projectiles overwhelmed him and pinned him against the wall.

With an unsatisfied sigh, the assailant turned and left the scene, leaving the two guards with their own blood trickling down their bodies.

"Y-you, son of a..." Rojle sputtered, getting one last glance at the assailant.

"Oh," the assailant murmured, "you didn't die?" Almost casually, the assailant drew out the crossbow again and said, "Well, my deepest apologies for that."