Chapter 6

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The walk back to the inn was much quicker this time. You still weaved your way through alleyways and avoided people's eyes, while trying to make sure none of the assassins from the guild were following you. The last thing you needed right now was for them to track where the bard was staying.

Because of that, you decided it would be best to avoid going through the front of the inn. It would only bring attention to yourself, and you needed to lay low and not attract any suspicious eyes. You slid past a group of men who were just entering the tavern — they were seemingly already drunk, despite it being hardly past noon. You shrugged it off and went down the quiet and slim alleyway that lay just between the inn and another building. Your eyes scanned the side of the inn; from what you remembered, the bard was on the second floor in the room all the way to the left. That meant the third window from the right lead to his room.

Though the Kingfisher Inn was one of the best you had seen, the bricks that lined the walls stuck out in different places. It was an okay building structure, but an even better building for climbing.

Without hesitation, you grabbed at the bricks and hauled yourself up the building towards the bard's window. You moved quickly, your eyes flicking to the bricks that were sticking out enough for you to grip them. You shifted your feet so they leaned on the other window frames, using that to push yourself further up the building. Finally, you reached the third-floor window; one hand gripped the window sill while the other pushed the window slightly, testing if it was open. It was.

You rolled your eyes and pushed it further, leaving enough room for you to slide in. With one swift motion, you pushed your body up with your hands, grabbed the top of the window sill, swung your legs — then body — through the opening, and landed in the room with barely a thud.

You smiled to yourself as you looked back out the window to the drop below. Not bad. Smile still on your face, you turned to look at the room.

The room was just as messy as when you first saw it — clothes were thrown over different objects, bottles of alcohol were now nearly empty. Despite the overt messiness, the evidence of your...experience there was now gone: the chair you were once strapped to was in the far corner, the bed was neatly made. Any indication of a struggle was gone, except for the struggle of choosing what to wear.

That still seemed to be an issue for the bard, since he was sitting in a chair facing away from you, wearing only an undershirt tucked into his pants. He strummed his lute lightly, a similar tune to the one you woke up to this morning. Seemingly, he hadn't noticed your entrance.

"Your window is open."

It was then that he jumped halfway out of his seat. He stood up quickly with a hand to his heart, only slightly calming down when he saw you. "How did you—" He turned his gaze from you to the window, then back again. "Gods, you're worse than Geralt!"

You raised your eyebrows. Worse than a witcher? You took that as a compliment.

Despite the twinge of pride that coursed through your body, you kept a straight face. "Your window was open."

"Yes, I am well aware, thank you." He placed his lute on the table beside himself, frown still painted on his face. He shook his head slightly and deepened his frown. "How did you even get to this floor?"

"I climbed."

The bard blinked, his look of awe soon being wiped away with one of disbelief. "You know, there is a door. Multiple, actually. They might be useful to you sometime in your life."

"I didn't want anyone to see me."

"But seeing you climb three stories isn't suspicious at all?"

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