The Modern Scheherazade

The Beginning of the End

Hello again.
It's been awhile, I'm sorry. I really am. I swear I didn't mean for it to happen!!!
The next story is about a child. A child who's not allowed to be a child. It's a shame, but we won't go into that until next time we see him.

Three figures in brown cloaks and bows across their shoulders wait in the trees for a carriage . It's slowly making it's way toward them, but they are still growing impatient.

"Ugh" the larger of the three groaned. "It's too early in the morning for this."

If you pulled down the hood of the speaker you would see a handsome boy of about 17 years of age with olive skin and black hair that flopped over his eyes. The eyes in question were deep and the color of dark moss. Currently they were bored and unfocused.

"Wye, this is the only chance we have and you know it." Reminded another cloaked figure.

You didn't have to pull down her hood to see her frizzy cinnamon colored hair. If you did pull down her hood, you would see chestnut colored eyes that shine with kindness and strength. Not just the strength to persevere, but the strength to kill.

Her name was Erittona.

The last figures name was Hemon.

Hemon was the youngest at fifteen years old. He was bouncing softly and doing so he caused his to fall off his head, revealing maple colored hair and icey blue eyes and the entire tree to shake. Unlike his teammates his childlike features showed a mixture of fear, anxiety and excitement.

The Duke finally ended his training and now he was on his first mission. He was undeniably ready for a mission, but wether he was ready for a mission do this importance was questionable.

The carriage was making it's way closer to the team.

Hemon stopped bouncing and stood deadly still. Wye's hands were in fists at his sides and Erittona was leaning so far forward it appeared she may fall.

They waited until the carriage was below for Wye to give the signal, a nod of the head, to Erittona. When he did, the two of them shot at the carriage until their quivers were empty. Then they traveled noisily from tree to tree, drawing the attention of the guards and leaving Hemon behind.

Hemon climbed down to a the level of a small window in the carriage and looked at his target for the first time.

The target was Crown Prince Marcis of Ballaris. Son of Antannita's greatest enemy, King Alphon of Ballaris.

Hemon could see him though the small window of his carriage and he was shocked at how...normal Prince Marcis looked.

Hemon had always expected royalty to look have a divine beauty. The Prince could be and exception and Hemon hoped so. Most of his targets were doing to be royals and seeing them as a deity rather than a person made the thought easier for him to bear.

Hemon drew back his bow and took a deep breath, in and out, in and out, trying to calm his nerves.

Then he let go.

The arrow flew into the Prince's neck and blood immediately started gushing out and the Prince started gurgling in an undignified manner.

Hemon started climbing just as the guards came running back, without Wye or Erittona in their clutches.

The rough bark of the trees cut his hands as he slung himself from tree to tree as silent as he could. He headed to where he and his team planned to meet with relief and dread mixing themselves inside his tiny body.

He did it. Little Hemon started a war.