Berkley tapped his foot. It was often he’d get impatient as he counted up his recent earnings - an excited kind of impatience, flavored by the thought of what he might purchase with whatever surplus he had.
This, however, felt more like an uncomfortable knot in his gut.
It sat there, silently, in the corner.
Nothing makes me happier than using good storytelling to inspire people. Here’s the drabble I wrote:
I like the thought that the symbol of Kahl he stole off the soldier was an attack of opportunity: Small band of soldiers returning from an obviously lost battle, exhausted and in no position to fight back.
Berkley picks the guy in the back of the pack off as they round a corner and separates him out. The soldier claims he’s got nothing worth stealing, but Berkley knows these guys are paid up front. The soldier tries to get froggy, and after Berk easily puts him down with a shank to the neck, he shakes out the corpse.
Sure enough, aside from a terribly dull and dented blade, completely worn-through boots, and a still gaping, gangrenous wound in his side, the soldier only had an old emblem to that goody-good Kahl on him.
Berk didn’t even need the cash at the moment, but why pass up such an easy target?
That’d definitely be something that would make a man think long and hard as he dragged the body into a quiet corner of the alley near the accumulated refuse of the surrounding domiciles.
Of course he would keep it. It was the only thing that looked hockable on the guy. Talk about a waste of time, could’ve at least had a couple a coin to pay for the drink he left in the mead hall to go after the guy.