Grantham grimaced. What had started as a simple assassination had devolved into a street fight. Those on the street who had no interest in trouble, melted away. No one went to alert the city guard.

“I hope whoever sent you paid you up front.” Stephen sneered. He was a nobleman the size of a blacksmith.

“This is charity work.” Grantham replied, looking for some advantage to even out the size difference between them. Both unarmed, they circled each other, hands raised to protect their faces. In a fair fight, Stephen would probably win with size alone, but Grantham had no intention of fighting fair.

“A crown to anyone that tosses my friend here a knife.” Grantham called out to the crowd.

Several knives entered into the fighting space.

Stephen dropped his guard to reach for a knife but Grantham was faster. He plucked a blade out of midair, driving it deep into Stephen’s belly. The large man crumpled.

Grantham tossed coins into the crowd, paying his last debt.

Now that Stephen was dead, he was whole again.