The Assassin Princess (On Hold)

Chapter 6: Magnus

Blood.  Inky red blood.  Thick blood.  

Blood that gives life.  Blood that bleeds out in moments of death.

That was the only thought that kept repeating itself in my head.  Blood.  Blood.  Blood.

Why I was so shaken, I couldn't be sure.  After all, I have killed  my fair share of people.  And I have been on the battlefield more times than I care to admit.  But, something about watching Death kill a man was unnerving.

Looking down, I traced the scar on my left wrist.  The only scar I bear, the only scar that father hadn't allowed a healer to heal.

Because he was the one to leave it.

It happened a while back, a faraway memory.  Back then, I had been a 10 year old boy.  Not quite old enough to understand the full pressure of being the future king of Wrewen, but definitely old enough to wield a sword.

But I hadn't wanted to.  The thought, the essence, of murder seemed so far-fetched, so cruel.  I had practically begged my father to let me not practice the art of murderer.  "But these are lives were dealing with, father," I had argued so long ago.  "You can't just take them like they're pawns.  What makes their lives so much more important than mine?"

My father had responded saying, "Someday, you'll learn that their lives are pawns.  And that some lives are worth more than others.  And your's, crown prince of Wrewen, your life is worth millions of others."

"I don't want to take lives," I had wailed.  In response, King Drust had picked up a dagger and slashed at my hand.

Feel the pain.  Take lives or have your life taken away, you pathetic coward.  Words that had haunted me for years.  Sure, I've killed-in battle, not on a person level or anything evil people do-, I've lied, I've grown.  For my country, I would sometimes say.  Or, perhaps, for the good of the world.  But, deep down, I knew the true reason-to make my father proud of me.

Now, I felt like that boy again.  The boy who didn't want to witness murder.  The boy who wanted to escape into his room and cry.  The boy who felt as if he life wasn't worth a single other life.  

Blinking myself back to reality, I thought about Death again.  Sure, ever since I met her, a part of me kind of knew that she was an assassin.  After all, no normal person would stalk around in dark alleyways in the middle of the night and go around with the name "Death."

Had the man crossed her in some way?  Maybe it was just my imagination, maybe it's me trying to justify murder, but the way she attacked him made it seem like...there was something personal going on.  Someone that affected her personally.

But, how?  Besides spontaneously killing the healer, I can't recall any other times I've seen him.  And, especially here, I knew that murders don't go around unnoticed.

Shaking my head, I tried my best to clear my thoughts.  After all, it's just a single murder.  People die all the time.   Doesn't make killing someone okay, that nagging part of me reminded myself.

But he deserved to die.   At least I knew that, even if his actual death is much harder to understand...

Trying to clear these thoughts, I walk out onto the balcony.  Looking up, I saw a shadowy sky decorated with diamond stars.  Looking down, I saw the lights of the village, bewildered on what happened.  And, taking a deep breathe, I smelled the fresh air of Alalidus.  Only...it wasn't quite fresh.  Suddenly, I understood why.  

All to present was the thick aroma of smoke.

Looking over to the East wing, I nearly jump back when I saw smoke ascending from one the windows.  Smoke that didn't exactly seem normal.