Shadowy figure

Stepping outside the brothel closely followed by my entourage we start making our way towards my residence.

The sun had long since fallen and the streets were dark and desolate, not a single person was in sight. Of course, this does not mean that there was silence, on the contrary, the streets were filled with noise coming from the buildings, people were talking loudly to each other, loud enough to be heard even outside their houses.

While listening to the laughter, cries, and moans coming from all around I can't help but think about how unproductive today was, well, it was fun, very fun, but unproductive.

All I did was walk around, eat some stuff, drink at the bar, then drink at the brothel, and probably drink something when I'm alone in my office.

Typical of me, the first thing I do once I get settled in is looking for ways to waste time, alright ill fix it, from tomorrow I won't be drinking anymore.

Well, actually, on second thought I cannot do that since whenever I go by the bar I need to order something, out of respect for the owner, of course.

And when I'm dealing with the paperwork or deep in my thoughts I get lonely and bored since there is no real form of entertainment here, so I have to drink in my office, yes, that one is paramount.

Then I won't drink at the brothel anymore, that should be good enough.

Satisfied by my iron will to abide by my own decisions I take a look around the street, it is frozen, dark, and extremely foul-smelling, the usual. I even recognize where we are, but a few minutes away from home, I've walked this way dozens of times at this point.

Lifting my head up I stare at the icicles threatening to fall down and impale any who dare walk close to the buildings, I have seen it happen once, one morning while I was heading towards the lumberyard I passed by a man with a snow-covered broom in his hands, he must have just cleaned the entrance.

That in itself is nothing unusual, what happened next is, the man decided it would be a smart idea to smack the broom against the wall in order to shake off the snow that had accumulated on it.

So he hit the wall once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth hit, one of the large icicles hanging right above his head broke loose and impaled him through his left shoulder, with the amount of blood and the lack of screaming I believe it hit some artery.

The man had not lived long. Well, there was nothing I could do to help, not like I even tried, really.

While thinking about the gruesome image of the man bleeding to death a few steps away from me I hear a crunch underfoot as I step down.

Thinking it was just some trash thrown out by one of the people living around the area I look down only for my gag reflex to kick in, I manage to not vomit but the sour taste of warm liquor combined with gastric juices filled my mouth.

Slowly and carefully I lift my foot and take a step back, my guards also stopped to look at me, they did not seem surprised about the thing on the ground, and truthfully I should not be either, I had seen it plenty of times already, but seeing and stepping on it only for it to crunch and shatter are very different things.

I, walking carelessly while fantasizing about the death of a stranger, have stepped on a frozen dead body, a very human dead body. This is nothing uncommon, there are some on every street, people die here, and no one even bothers to move the bodies unless they are obstructing the way.

This one here was covered by snow as many others are, making it close to impossible to see in the dark unless one pays close attention, and I wasn't paying attention, at all.

I had stepped on its toes, the same toes that now laid shattered in the snow, the dead body's feet were naked, someone had stolen its shoes.

Feeling disgusted I drag my foot through the snow as if to clean it and keep walking, no one says anything, this is life here, it is normal, it is so normal that it makes me sick.

----------

With a bang, the door to the third floor, also known as my living quarters and office closes behind me.

The first thing I do is head over to the fireplace and start a fire, no one had been up here and the room itself was freezing.

With the fire now burning I take off my ragged brown cloak and throw it on the ground near the bed, then I walk over to my chair, sit down, and take off my boots, these right here, are modern boots, made from some material or another, they are much more durable than whatever the people here use.

Thinking about the thing I just stepped on disgust once again rushes forward and I throw the boots next to the cloak.

Feeling slightly better I look down at the papers on my table, they are filled with scribbles that i cannot read due to the lack of light. I do not have a lamp, and while the fire lights up the room it is not nearly enough to be able to read.

Pushing the papers to the side I take off my hat and place it down on the table, I really like this hat, but I should really change the feathers, I forgot to clean them since the incident.

Slowly I lift my hand and pass it through my hair, my old friend is back, and while not being nearly as great as it had once been, it is still back. I have nothing against being bald, but the cold weather does not favor those less blessed.

As my hand makes its way to the back of my neck my fingers pass through a bald spot, the skin feels different here, harder and rugged, this is the scar that the damned thing gave me, I still see it in my dreams sometimes.

While leaning back into my chair and feeling up the scar on my back something catches my eye, all the way in the back of the room, in a place that light does not reach there seems to be a figure standing, seeing it makes my muddled mind instantly wake up.

As soon as I lay my eyes on it my whole body freezes and a dozen questions fill my mind, how did it get in here, the door was closed, I had guards at home, there is only one way in.

While panicking slightly, I lower the hand that was touching my scar and slowly hide it behind the table, I don't think the figure knows I noticed it. Even if I scream for help the giants would need at least a good thirty seconds to get up here, that's more than enough time for me to get stabbed.

Focusing my eyes on the cloaked figure standing eerily still, I focus my magic into my hand, a very small amount of it. What comes out is a miniature crow, about as big as a hummingbird, it easily fits into my palm.

I normally don't change the size of my summons because it makes them unstable, I don't understand why, but I know from previous experience that the thing I just created is unable to fly, it lacks proper coordination and structural integrity.

Still, the reason I made it is not to have it fly away but to use it for vision. With the bird hidden in my palm, I raise the hand and place it on the table, then, with my eyes still open I connect to the summon, the usual thing happens, the whole world turns into shades of purple.

With my new and improved night vision, I can now properly analyze the figure, and what I see makes me shudder slightly.

Closing my fist I crush the summon causing it to instantly disappear, then, without moving my head I look over to the bed, the hanger I usually use for my cloak is gone, I did not notice because I threw the cloak on the ground instead of hanging it like I usually do.

Moving my eyes back on the figure that I now know is certainly not human I grit my teeth and stand up.

Step by careful step I make my way towards it, what I feel is a mixture of fear and excitement in equal measure. Now, but a few steps away from the figure I can see its color, one I am very used to seeing, a rich burgundy.

Standing an arm's length away I grab the figure and lift the cloak in excitement, what lay underneath is my hanger, there was never a human here.

With my precious now back in my possession I feel what could be described as happiness fill me and, for some unknown reason, I lift the cloak and bury it in my face before taking a deep breath.

It smelled like oranges.