Chapter 83: Chapter XX: A Vile Man [2]

Sat upon a wooden bed stuffed with wool and straw, Velmund gripped a dagger coated with parched blood; the blood of an innocent man yet to commit a grave offense. Nevertheless, an innocent life all the same. Hours had passed since the murder of the Lord of Falmundth, and he managed to flee from the town unscathed. It was his first kill, and it was awful. More so than eating the flesh of a rat in the sewers he once saw a beggar did, or drinking muddied water in a putrid swamp. It was not remorse he felt, nor guilt. It was something akin to disgust. Like the blood in the blade that had already dried up, the feeling of disgust had rigidly lingered in his mind, prompting a wish from him that desired of turning back time. Perhaps he may have convinced the Baron otherwise, and perhaps his murder could have been avoided. But alas, the deed had already been committed.