Ulrich stood alone on the rooftop, his only companion the dead body cooling against the stone behind him.
He held his sword out for a moment before slowly lowering it. Reaching into his coat pocket with his free hand, he pulled out a small cloth and set to work cleaning the blade with careful strokes. He drew the napkin along the full length of the steel several times, wiping away every last smear of blood until the silver surface was as immaculate as it had been the moment he first unsheathed it.
When he was satisfied, he tossed the stained cloth aside and raised the sword before him, scanning the blade as it caught the sunlight and threw back a clean, brilliant gleam.
Then, without warning, he drove the blade into the rooftop stone.
His left hand shot up to cover his mouth.
"Coughh—!"
