Rotted Oak

Prologue

It is the fifth year of the rule of Berham the cruel, the kingdom of Malati is in uproar. Strict laws, merciless punishments, heavy taxes, and the like have led to a state of near civil war. Uprisings are breaking out in villages, towns, and cities all throughout Malati. Even in the capital city, despite the strong presence of the kings elite guard, unrest is growing.
In the midst of the chaos, stands the kings palace, right in the center of the city. Guards patrol every corridor, day and night, making it the safest place in all of Malati. The doors are all guarded, and entry is strictly regulated. However, for the skilled assassin, there are more ways to enter than just doors.
The hooded figure, Khazkan, approached the outer wall silently, completely indistinguishable from the shadows that filled the night. From his belt he pulled a small device, attaching it to the wall before making his way back across the courtyard into the darkness of the streets.
He pulled a small cylindrical device from his belt, holding it in his gloved hand, his thumb resting lightly on the button at the end.
"Kaboom" he whispered under his breath, before pushing his thumb down on the button.

An explosion shook the ground, the wall consumed in a massive fireball. A bell started ringing, signalling immediate curfew. Khazkan moved silently through the empty streets, making his way toward the main gates. After only a few minutes a convey began leaving the palace, evidently moving the king to a secure location.

"...two, three, four..." Khazkan counted the vehicles under his breath. "... seven, eight."

On eight, Khazkan pushed another button on the device, and the gates erupted in another explosion, much larger than the first. The vehicle passing through the gate at the time, a large, heavily armored landship, was almost completely destroyed. And with that, Malati no longer had a king.