PROLOGUE
Blood upon the throne
Javan stood at the tall arched windows of the Inner chamber and looked across the court at the sun climbing towards mid morning. His eyes roamed the cavernous hallway of the Palace. Another day of standing guard at the King's throne room until his feet ached and numbed. At least the weather had been so graceful to let him witness a beautiful sunrise instead of the cold winds that had torn across the city for the past few days. Unnaturally, it didn't carry along much rainfall though it has caused quite a lot of damage to property in the city. Scholars and elders claimed it might be the fore warning to the approaching death of an important personality. Javan moved slowly back to his guard post. What those useless scribes thought was none of his business. A day more, and he would have served six months at his duty post. His fellow guards had begun to regard him with some amount of respect. Surely, in a few months they would stop calling "the recruit". I am a member of the Elite Guard. I am a Death Handler. I report to no one except the King. Nobody underestimates me!!! Never!!
An ear deafening shriek shattered the silence of the Palace, followed by the sound of a crashing door. Javan snapped out of his reverie. His quick reflexes had already enabled him to draw out his sword. He slowly advanced towards the doorway to inquire what the commotion was all about. A disturbance in the king's Inner Chambers wasn't a new experience to Javan. Members of the Royal Council were allowed the privilege of unhindered entry into the Palace. However, a few of them never passed the opportunity to show their arrogance when court was in session. Javan expected to see Lady Vraeleen or Lord Belafonte.
A very tall man, perhaps six and a half feet tall, with a build as slender as a sword with slouching but very broad shoulders had appeared in the doorway. Clad in black apparel that hid all skin from view, the intruder looked like a character from a night tale told to frighten the little ones. Terribly Frightening. The color of his clothing might have been a shade darker than what would normally be considered as black in the Twelve Kingdoms. The stranger had the hood of his cloak pulled around his head so that his face was hidden and well shadowed. The cloak was fastened by a clasp with the image of a spitting serpent coiled around the hilt of a sword. Confused, Javan's gaze was immediately drawn to the scimitar clenched in his black gloves dripping with a fluid that looked curiously like blood. The man began to stroll forward in a stance that was as menacing as a wolf advancing towards a paralyzed prey. Captain of the Death Handlers, Varil Iamthrikr, was the first to recover.
"Halt in the name of the King" Varil announced in a commanding voice." No weapon shall be drawn in the -"
The man swung the sleeves of his silk shirt and a dagger sprouted right out of captain Varil's throat. A gurgling sound followed as the captain slumped unto the ground clutching his throat. Outrage replaced shock on the faces of the four remaining guards. The sound of swords being withdrawn from scabbards rang all around the room. Javan stood watching as the three guards charged across the room at the single cold blooded murderer. He didn't mind joining them but three against one was a good enough odds for any talented swordsman. As they closed the distance, one guardsman fell as another dagger thudded right into his forehead. That didn't slow the approach of the remaining two. The murderer raised his scimitar and casually parried the thrust of his first assailant, flinging the sword confidently aside as if it was a usual thing to have two men trying to kill you at the same time everyday. The guard lost his balance and rammed his shoulders into his fellow guardsman. It was at that moment that Javan realized that this man was no ordinary swordsman. With a half step, the man brought down his scimitar from its raised position and cut through the shoulder of the guard embedding it into his chest. Then pulling it out effortlessly, he thrust it once more into the belly of his enemy.
