The docks were supposed to be dangerous, especially for nobles, and deadly for those without guards.

Nicolai Stranghetti walked on without fear, his mind elsewhere.

Three shapes paced him, waiting for the right moment to strike.

That moment presented itself when he turned down an alley.

They hurried after him, knives in hand.

“Hey! You!” The larger of the three yelled, hoping to slow their quarry.

Nicolai stopped, turning to face his pursuers. They had the hard look of desperate men who had killed before and would kill again.

The slim Italian drew a rapier, seemingly from nowhere. “Let. Us. Dance.” He punctuated each word with a practiced swing of his sword.

The three gutter rats snarled and backed away. They weren’t use to prey that could fight back. Three knives against even a single sword was poor odds at best and suicide at worst. Dying tonight would be a waste when there was other, easier prey to be had.

Nicolai watched them until their forms became one with the shadows before moving on.