By Sedrith Two daggers laid on a wooden table. One was made of glinting steel and the other from dark, almost rusty metal. These daggers had seen a fair share of violence, betrayal and just pure hatred. They would never question any action. They were made only to do bidding of their master. For now, their master is a thirty-one year old man called Sedrith Armster, a freelance mercenary. As he walked to the room the daggers reflected the sunlight that came out from window, shining like eyes of a child. Sedrith inserted both daggers into pockets in his black jacket, ready to be pulled out whenever needed. He then scratched his mustache. Now he was ready to do some killing.