Dawn was breaking.
The sky outside was a pale blue- icy and clear. Not a cloud dotted it. A lone blackbird flew across, singing his lonesome song.
Lucien gazed out of the window, looking at nothing, lost in his own thoughts. The city slept below, but still he waited.
He had always been good at waiting. It made sense for him to be so patient; what with all the waiting he had done... all the work. But no more. He was here now, and he wasn’t about to stop waiting now. So he settled further back into his chair, and waited some more.
Torches flickered in brackets, lighting up patches of the dark hallway. Portraits were lined up along the wall, going from the first king of the city right up to the current ruler. The corridor was silent and dejected. The engraved door of the King’s private presence chamber was shut and locked in a manner that befitted the paranoid ruler.
The castle itself was situated high above the rest of the city, on a rocky outcropping that stretched up into the sky. It watched the city constantly, its shape forbidding and imposing as it observed.
His throne was made of gold, embedded with jewels, engraved with poetry and pictures. All of them riches from other lands, stolen. Taken for himself and his country.
His tattered robes hung about his frame. They were regal, hand stitched. Every square of fabric taken from other people. Stolen. Purchased using money from those he had ordered dead. For himself and his country.
His throne room. That was his. It had stood for centuries above his. It was his- all his. Nobody else’s. His.
So, he sat in it. Hiding, maybe. He had a lot to hide from.
He checked the grandfather clock in the corner. It looked about time.
‘The king will see you now.’
Lucien glanced up at the guard and nodded silently. He stood and placed his hand on the door knob, ready to go in. The guard grabbed his arm, stopping him.
‘Before you go in,’ the guard’s eyes narrowed and his voice dropped,’ there’s something you should know,’ he paused and stared Lucien in the eye, ‘ the king doesn’t usually let people in with weapons. You are a... unusual exception. But I tell you now, you so much as touch your fancy dagger and you will be dead before you can move.’
Lucien looked at the guard’s shabby armour and low quality sword. He gave the guard a wry smile. ‘Oh, I doubt it,’ he said before entering the room.
It was dark, lonely and cold. Torches lit up what they could, but the effort made little difference.
The King was sat on his throne, watching. Lucien walked toward him and bowed.
‘My King,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘My citizen,’ the King replied in the traditional manner.
Lucien kept his head bowed until the King spoke.
‘I suspect you may be wondering why I brought you here,’ the King began in his cracked voice. Lucien kept his head bowed, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Not really he thought silently. He replied formally.
‘My King, I had wondered.’
The King smiled gently.
‘My citizen, I have a job for you,’ he turned to look directly into Lucien’s eyes,’ I am in need of an assassin, to put it bluntly, and I have heard tell of your abilities. Would you consent to this job?’
‘Of course, my King.’
‘Henri Perrick, that most evil man, he shall be your victim.’
‘My King, I shall kill this evildoer.’
The King smiled. Lucien could tell it was a cue to leave, but ignored it. He glanced around to make sure the room was secure. It was. He placed a hand on his dagger.
‘My King,’ said Lucien quietly,’ I shall kill this most evil man right now.’ The last words were a whisper.
The King’s eyed widened in confusion. Lucien raised his dagger. He stepped closer to the King, slowly and deliberately. He reached out and forced the King to his knees in one quick movement.
Then, he slit the King’s throat.
Lucien landed on the straw pile with grace. He stood and looked around. The city was still sleeping. He couldn’t help but grin- escaping would be easier than he thought. The King’s meeting could sometimes take hours. By the time people became suspicious and realised the King was dead, he would be far out of the city- maybe even near the countries boundaries. He kept to the shadows as he ran.
But still he couldn’t help but grin- he had done it. Finally done it. That wretched, evil King had finally been punished for all his evil.
An inane giggle escaped his lips. The King’s cold hearted murder of his father had been accounted for.
He slid through the gate and out of the city.
Finally.
The sky outside was a pale blue- icy and clear. Not a cloud dotted it. A lone blackbird flew across, singing his lonesome song.
Lucien gazed out of the window, looking at nothing, lost in his own thoughts. The city slept below, but still he waited.
He had always been good at waiting. It made sense for him to be so patient; what with all the waiting he had done... all the work. But no more. He was here now, and he wasn’t about to stop waiting now. So he settled further back into his chair, and waited some more.
Torches flickered in brackets, lighting up patches of the dark hallway. Portraits were lined up along the wall, going from the first king of the city right up to the current ruler. The corridor was silent and dejected. The engraved door of the King’s private presence chamber was shut and locked in a manner that befitted the paranoid ruler.
The castle itself was situated high above the rest of the city, on a rocky outcropping that stretched up into the sky. It watched the city constantly, its shape forbidding and imposing as it observed.
His throne was made of gold, embedded with jewels, engraved with poetry and pictures. All of them riches from other lands, stolen. Taken for himself and his country.
His tattered robes hung about his frame. They were regal, hand stitched. Every square of fabric taken from other people. Stolen. Purchased using money from those he had ordered dead. For himself and his country.
His throne room. That was his. It had stood for centuries above his. It was his- all his. Nobody else’s. His.
So, he sat in it. Hiding, maybe. He had a lot to hide from.
He checked the grandfather clock in the corner. It looked about time.
‘The king will see you now.’
Lucien glanced up at the guard and nodded silently. He stood and placed his hand on the door knob, ready to go in. The guard grabbed his arm, stopping him.
‘Before you go in,’ the guard’s eyes narrowed and his voice dropped,’ there’s something you should know,’ he paused and stared Lucien in the eye, ‘ the king doesn’t usually let people in with weapons. You are a... unusual exception. But I tell you now, you so much as touch your fancy dagger and you will be dead before you can move.’
Lucien looked at the guard’s shabby armour and low quality sword. He gave the guard a wry smile. ‘Oh, I doubt it,’ he said before entering the room.
It was dark, lonely and cold. Torches lit up what they could, but the effort made little difference.
The King was sat on his throne, watching. Lucien walked toward him and bowed.
‘My King,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘My citizen,’ the King replied in the traditional manner.
Lucien kept his head bowed until the King spoke.
‘I suspect you may be wondering why I brought you here,’ the King began in his cracked voice. Lucien kept his head bowed, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Not really he thought silently. He replied formally.
‘My King, I had wondered.’
The King smiled gently.
‘My citizen, I have a job for you,’ he turned to look directly into Lucien’s eyes,’ I am in need of an assassin, to put it bluntly, and I have heard tell of your abilities. Would you consent to this job?’
‘Of course, my King.’
‘Henri Perrick, that most evil man, he shall be your victim.’
‘My King, I shall kill this evildoer.’
The King smiled. Lucien could tell it was a cue to leave, but ignored it. He glanced around to make sure the room was secure. It was. He placed a hand on his dagger.
‘My King,’ said Lucien quietly,’ I shall kill this most evil man right now.’ The last words were a whisper.
The King’s eyed widened in confusion. Lucien raised his dagger. He stepped closer to the King, slowly and deliberately. He reached out and forced the King to his knees in one quick movement.
Then, he slit the King’s throat.
Lucien landed on the straw pile with grace. He stood and looked around. The city was still sleeping. He couldn’t help but grin- escaping would be easier than he thought. The King’s meeting could sometimes take hours. By the time people became suspicious and realised the King was dead, he would be far out of the city- maybe even near the countries boundaries. He kept to the shadows as he ran.
But still he couldn’t help but grin- he had done it. Finally done it. That wretched, evil King had finally been punished for all his evil.
An inane giggle escaped his lips. The King’s cold hearted murder of his father had been accounted for.
He slid through the gate and out of the city.
Finally.