A tall warrior squirmed restlessly in his seat, looking around the almost empty tavern. "No business tonight," said a thin, sleepy-looking man across the table.He slumped back in his chair, crossed his legs in front of him, and threw a thin arm over his head. The man with a stronger body looked at the other party carefully and became alert. "And you know why," he replied. "That's right." The burly warrior turned back just in time to see the last customer slipping out the door. "You asked them to leave?" he asked. "That's right."

"Marco sent you." The thin man curled his lips in an evil grin.He laughed even wider when the burly warrior looked at the opponent's slender arms with obvious questioning eyes. "To kill me." The burly warrior finished, trying to appear calm.But the fingers of the tight hands moved as if they wanted to find something to grab, revealing their own tension. He licked his dry lips and glanced around quickly, not daring to let his dark eyes leave the assassin for too long.He noticed that the man was wearing a pair of gloves, one black and the other white, and he cursed himself that he should have been more alert.

The lean man replied slowly, "You know Marco will seek revenge on you for his cousin's death." "That's what he asked for!" retorted the burly man, "he shot first, and I had no choice--" "I'm neither judge nor jury," the thin man reminded him. "Just a killer," replied the warrior, "and you will work for whoever gives you the biggest bag of gold." The assassin nodded, not at all humiliated by these words. But the thin man noticed that his target was reaching with seemingly ease into a ferret rear pocket, just above the right hip, in the V-shaped recess of the jacket.

"Don't do that," the killer said.He had watched the man carefully and thoroughly for weeks and knew that there was a knife hidden in the pocket. The warrior's hands stopped, looking at him in disbelief. "Of course I know your tricks," the assassin explained. "Don't you understand? Dear and damned Falclaff, I already know everything about you." The man paused, then began to protest. "Why now?" The burly man's anger rose with obvious frustration. "Now is the time," the killer replied. "Everything has its own time limit, and so does killing. Besides, I have other important business in the west, so I don't have time to play with you anymore."

"Before that, you obviously had many chances to kill me." Falclaff argued.In fact, the small man had been hanging around him for weeks and had gained his trust without knowing it, even though he didn't even know his name.The warrior's eyes narrowed in deeper frustration as he pondered the thought for a moment, realizing that it was the man's emaciated appearance - so thin that he didn't look like a threat at all - that broke his defenses.If this man, who is now clearly an enemy, looked more threatening, it would be impossible for Falclaff to let him get so close to him.

"More than you can imagine," the killer replied with a snicker.The burly man saw him often, but not as often as the perfectly disguised and changeable assassin saw Falclaff. "I'm at the top of my game," the assassin continued, "unlike the other stupid killers hanging around the Realm. They just keep their distance until the opportunity presents itself, but I—" his The eyes gleamed with pride, "--I like to get close to my goal. I am always around you. Several of your friends have died, and now I know you in such detail that every next move you make predict it."

Falclaff's breathing became shallow and harsh.How many friends have died?And this skinny kid is threatening him openly?He has killed countless monsters whose weight is ten times that of the person in front of him, performed outstandingly in three battles, and even fought a dragon!But now he was afraid.Falclaff had to admit that the whole situation was not only extremely dangerous, but completely caught him off guard. "I'm an artist," the thin, drowsy-looking man went on, "that's why I'll never...well, I'll live while so many other killers die. " "You're nothing but a killer!" the burly man yelled, his frustration exploding.He jumped up from his seat and drew a huge sword.

A sharp pain slowed him down, and he found himself sitting again without realizing it.He blinked, trying to figure out what was going on, because he saw himself in an empty bar, and what's more, he was staring at his own face!He stood there dumbfounded, watching his own body insert the heavy sword back into the scabbard. "It's cruel," Falclaff heard his own body say.He looked down at the body he was in now—the killer's emaciated body. "And it's horrible," continued the killer. "What's going on...?" "I'm afraid I don't have time to explain," the killer replied.

"What's your name?" Falclaff called, desperately trying to find a clue. "." The killer replied, leaning forward suddenly, quite sure that the almost womanly thin body, which he knew so well, had no speed of escape or strength to stop it at all. Falclaff found himself lifted off the ground, feeling huge hands grabbing his neck. "Whose ghost?" uttered the words from the man, unable to contain himself and desperate.He tried to kick with all the strength of his new body, but this weak movement looked ridiculous in front of the strong body occupied by the enemy now.Then, he couldn't breathe.

Falclaff heard only the crack of bones, and that was the last he heard. "No one's ghost," the victorious killer replied to the corpse, "just a 'ghost.'" Then he sat down and finished his drink.How perfect the task was, and how easily Falclaff was lured into such a vulnerable position. "What an artist," said the ghost, raising his glass to toast himself.The body he was more familiar with would be repaired by magic before dawn, and he could exchange it back then, throwing away Falclaff's body. The ghost said before that there are important things waiting for him in the west, which is true.A magician contacts the Assassins with an outrageously high reward for a not-too-difficult assassination mission.

The reward must have been quite high, and the ghost knew it, since he had been named for this task by his superiors.The magician obviously wanted the best. The magician wants an artist.

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