Creative Writing: Sacrifice

A shadowy figure strode through the streets, their figure concealed by a billowing black cape that splayed out behind them. People moved out of the way, unsure of who the figure was and what their purpose in the small town could have been. No strangers visited... Or at least, not for a long time. The figure turned down an alleyway purposefully, the flow of the cape revealing a sword strapped to their waist. One boy stared at the sharp point of metal with wide eyes before he was grabbed by his mother and pulled inside the nearest house, the whole street becoming virtually deserted apart from the odd pair of eyes peeking through cracks in the window shutters. The figure continued to stalk down the alley, the emptiness allowing their footsteps to click against the cobbled

She fell to the floor as the scarlett liquid dripped from the wound, her paid cries piercing the silence. The Cardinal watched as the woman became quieter, his eyebrow raising in mild interest as the light faded from her eyes. He kicked her, checking she was gone. That she wasn’t going to interfere in his life again. Satisfied, he made his way out of the house, stopping first to pick at the small block of cheese on the table in the front room, before he swooped out of the door, leaving it open to let the thieves in. Let it be them that found the body. Let it be them that would have to report it. Ha! As if they would! They’d be blamed for certain. And even if they didn’t report it, if people had seen them enter the house they would blame them. They wouldn’t have the nerve to pin it on him. He was the Cardinal! The second most powerful man in France! Nobody would know that he had been there, and if they did they wouldn’t know if was him. If someone figured it out somehow, then their claim wouldn’t get very far at