At the Inn of Ill Omen
He struggled with sleep,
His reason for hiding
To himself he’d keep.
As the days turned to weeks,
In the cellar he lay,
With nothing but rats
That shared with him their hay.

And with the brother’s
Ever seeing eyes,
They’d not let his mishap
Go unrecognized,
And search for the one
Did the moonlit shadow,
For murdering prize
And to where he did go.

A brother awakened
And tested his fate,
By searching for who
Had disappeared of late.

Once covered the kingdom
Reported his find,
A dagger presented
And contract would bind,
As the mystery watchman
Crept into the Inn,
He searched for the exile as
Patience grew thin.

To slaughter in sleep would make
Contract fulfill,
The welcome to brotherhood
Tested his will,
As he readied his blade
Who did long for the taste,
Of blood soaking vengeance
With which he’d made haste.

So Sanguine my brother
Assassins would hiss,
When leaders and cultists
Would recite with bliss,
As the chosen did fulfill
The death of a spy,
Reducing to ashes
The one who’d defy.

Jonathon Best© 2010