The Assassin's Story

The Assassin's Story

'One day they will write stories about you Archer. They will write about this journey, and all of the lucky souls that got to join you. Each time their tale might change but the same idea will remain. Archer you have done something Kings, noblemen, the poor, and Knights dream about, you have become a hero.'  

Prologue

He stepped out of the shadows as his glistening brown eyes focused on the red lined stone stair case. The beauty of it made the room look so bright. The man moved part of his long black cape out of his way revealing his glistening silver sword that hung from his leather belt. He took off up the stairs, it looked like he was gliding. His movements were so swift and smooth.

His mind wondered on as he climbed the stairs, it wondered to unspeakable places. Though he needed to try to focus on this, no he had to. A few more missions, he thought, just a few more. He reached the top of the stairs without being noticed amazingly. He could still hear the loud footsteps of the people dancing, the hum of the lovely music, and the talking of all the people. He took a long deep breathing thinking of the true purpose of this mission, the only reason he was here.

To Kill the Prince of Pimobtl. The eldest son of King Belfazar.

He moved his long thick brown hair form his eyes, which were covered by a simple plain black mask, as he looked upon the large oak door that laid between him and his success. He lightly laid his hand on the door letting all his emotions and thoughts settle. He gripped his sword tightly as he closed his eyes. A moment more of thought and he opened his eyes sliding quickly into the room.

The room was quiet empty. There was a large dark brown canopy bed that sat in the center of the room, large red painting spotted the walls, and lastly a brown bear's pelt laid on the floor. He looked around quickly, there was nobody here. Suddenly from the corner of his eye he saw the silhouette of a man sitting outside a thin, almost paper type, of door. There was the prince.

The Prince was right there, just a small bit away. He was sitting in a chair on a balcony overlooking the dance floor. The man could see it, the dance floor. The people gliding gracefully to the music while the brilliant musicians performed, the giggling of all the young single ladies, the clapping after each song, the laughs of old men who have had too much wine. He could see it all.

It was so close yet so far. He closed his eyes for a second taking in those thoughts. He needed to focus, he must. He opened his eyes going quickly yet quietly to the door. He looked at the silhouette, studying its forum for a second. The image flashed in his memory. He took one more breath then he slide though the door without making a sound.

He looked at the prince for a second. He was a young man, probably his first (and last) ball. He looked so confident and strong, upheld by the throne he presumed. The Prince smiled as he looked onto the dance floor, probably thinking when it will be him dancing with a young lass (though again that will never happen). The man gripped his sword tightly, taking it out of his frog (weapon case of a belt) on his belt. It made a certain sound that caught onto the prince's ears.

The prince's head turned towards the man. Right as their eyes meet the prince's face changed. He didn't know this man. "N-"Before the prince could finish what he was about to say, the man swung his sword. He watched as it cut through the prince's through like a knife to butter. It was a perfect cut. The sword went right through his neck. The man watched as the prince's body fell onto the railing of the balcony and fall onto the dance floor. Blood spilled out of if all the while, staining everything. Screams erupted the room.

The man slid his sword back into the frog and took off running. He went through the prince's room and began to run down the stairs. Though before he could even get halfway down and large group of guard came at the stairs. They all began to climb it quickly, swords drawn. They were ready to kill him the man who killed the prince. The man looked around, there must be another way out. A thought came to his mind. He grabbed onto the railing and hurtled himself over it. He fell to the floor but landed perfectly on the ground. The guards began to run down the stairs as he took off into the castle.