*Phil's point of view*
I've heard people say countless times that wars start for stupid reasons. They say there are about nine main reasons war starts. What are those reasons you might ask?
#1: Economic Gain. This is when one country wishes to take control of another's wealth.
#2: Territorial Gain. This is when a country decides it needs more land.
#3: Religion. This is when a group of people believe in one thing whereas others don't.
#4: Nationalism. This is when one country attempts to prove it's superior to another.
#5: Revenge. This is usually when a country attacks another because they got beat last time.
#6: Civil War. This is when there is a sharp disagreement within a country over who rules.
#7: Revolutionary War. This is when a large group of people attack a small group leading the country.
#8: Defensive/Preemptive War. This is when, "we are attacking them before they attack us."
Finally, the ninth reason. Love. Wars start over love because of reasons like: somebody runs off with the man she loves and the whole country has to fight to get the leaders wife back. Sometimes it starts when nobody wants two people in love and try split them up.
Why did the war I was fighting start? The reason I hated on that list the most.
Love.
When the leader of my country's wife ran off to have an affair with the leader of another country, my country was forced to attack.
And what you're wondering the most? Why I was I having a drink with the enemy.
You see, that's a long story.
I happened to be one of the best assassin's of my time. At first I went to people with a lot of money. They always wanted the same things: shooting down the other business that was doing better than them. Sometimes the occasional ex-spouse. Whatever it was, I made millions on it.
The only thing that sucked? I lived in a world where you couldn't harm your soulmate. I haven't run into my soulmate yet, considering the amount of people I've killed. I don't intend to, I have no time to fall in love.
The thing is, I never got caught, I got trapped. It wasn't until the leader of my country assigned me to kill Clint Freshner. Clint Freshner was the leader of our country's Parliament. The leader of our country, King Frederick the VII, doesn't have much of a decision in the Parliament unless it agrees. Because Clint Freshner is one of the leaders, his decision was usually the one the Parliament took. The thing is, Clint purposely went against the King no matter what because of- long story short, trust me- a childhood thing. The King tried to talk to him many times, but nothing worked, so he sent me in.
I killed him easily. Nobody could figure out who did it. There were no fingerprints. No weapons in sight. No body in sight until they found it floating in the river on the outskirts of the country. My job is kill without evidence and without talking. I keep quiet and I kill efficiently. It's completely worth the millions of dollars I get out of killing innocent people.
It's a rule of mine to never kill for the same person twice. That was, until I was forced to. When the King of your country needs something done, you do it the second you're asked. I thought that that one kill would be it. The King had other plans. When I told him about my rule, he said that I would end up in jail if I denied. So, that's how I ended up as the royal assassin.
After the King declared war to get his wife back, he then- and only then- realized that he had me. What did he do? He sent me to another country, sent me to get information on King Steven II. I know became a spy, but if worst comes to worst I'd do what I did best.
After a week of gaining the man's trust, I was sitting at King Steven's dining room table, getting him drunk on wine. It's what I usually did for jobs. People become open books when they became drunk.
"What did you say your name was again?" Steven asked after laughing at one of my "hilarious" made up stories.
"Simon Smith," I smiled at him.
"Are you a soldier?" He questioned.
"No sir. As I said, I've been traveling, avoiding the war," I shrugged.
"Ah, the war. Nonsense don't you think?" He huffed. "Rosie has said herself she hates good ol' Freddie," He rolled his eyes. Rosanne was the seventeen year old woman sent to marry the thirty year old King Fredrick. I felt bad for her, I didn't know why Fredrick was chasing someone who hated him. But it wasn't my business to judge my clients.
"So, speaking of the war, what do you think you're going to do?" I questioned leaning forward in my chair.
"Well, you see-" The King started to talk, but immediately got cut off by a man in uniform.
"Sir, I think it is unwise of you to share our battle strategies with a complete strangers," He cut in. My throat tightened, I already knew what this meant. I could already tell from the look in this guy's eyes that he had doubts. When I did end up killing the King, he would know right away it was me. As gorgeous as he was, I was going to have to kill him too.
"Well, it's your call Surgeant Howell, so whatever you say," The King laughed drunkenly again.
"As I said before sir, I don't think it's wise," The man cleared his throat and stood his ground confidently.
"Could you tell me where the toilet is?" I asked standing up.
"Down the hallway, last door on your right," The Sergeant's jaw clenched.
I walked into the bathroom and grabbed my knife. I could hear the man walking down the hallway, he for surely knew what I was doing. I slightly opened the door- knife in hand.
I grabbed him by his collar and yanked him inside. I pushed him against the door and held his hands above his head. I had my knife sitting right below his ribs.
"I knew it," He said through gritted teeth. Up close I swear he got more beautiful by the second. I felt like the world was begging me not to kill him. Maybe my heart was too.
"Then why didn't you kill me?" I smirked starting to dig the knife into his stomach.
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Thank you Verabxx for the idea for this!