Under Attack

"…I better get a move on before I become their next victim."

Unknown to him, on the roof right above him, the young boy already aimed his silent rifle at the nobleman's neck.

"Sorry old man. I'm afraid you will."

The air rifle which had an owl emblem on it dispatched its projectile to the elderly noble with pinpoint accuracy. Within seconds, the noble started to wobble and eventually fell to the ground unconscious. The agile teenager jumped down to loot the old man. When he approached him, he recognized the noble's face.

"It can't be…" he said, disbelieving at what he saw. "Count Viktor!" a flow of regret spurred on his skin like poison. His arm trembled, yet he held himself together, for the bullet of his air rifle could never take someone's life.

"…I'm glad this air rifle is non-lethal that it wouldn't threaten your life. You'll be okay. I'm… I'm really sorry, but I have a job to do."