The Art of Rebellion

The Kill

I'm having dinner at a restaurant near the hotel where I'm temporarily staying, watching my target stuff his mouth with more food than should be physically possible. His name is Gerald Anderson, and he is among those who presume to call themselves The Council of The People, a group formed under the pretense of advising this once great kingdom's leader, a boy of twelve, on how to rule. In actuality, they feed him lies about the happiness of the people, telling him how content we are and how his wisdom inspires us, oppressing us all the while. The nobles who support them are allowed to do as they please with us common folk. It's been a long time since we were considered more than cattle. To them, we are no longer human. Anyone who opposes The Council mysteriously disappears, or absolute proof about a crime they've committed gets discovered, the king remaining non the wiser. How exactly do they succeed in taming the many? Aro, the puppeteer pulling the king's strings and the leader of The Council has the power to control minds. Only a few possess the capacity for magic, and even fewer can use it to such an extent. To even be capable of using it, you would require a power stone. There are many kinds of those, but few fall into the hands of sorcerers, which is the only time they have real value. Instead, they're mostly worn by nobility as accessories.

Gerald gets up and goes over to the bar, so I get up and follow him. The only way around the guards that are constantly with him is for him to willingly dismiss them, which only happens when he's having sex. It's one of the least kept secrets in the kingdom that he prefers men much younger than himself, so I'm qualified to get him alone. I sit on the opposite end of the circular bar from him, making sure he can see me. I smile and pulled the golden chain out from underneath my shirt and put it on display; A known symbol pleasure houses use to make it easier for their employees to be identified. It takes the old lecher less than ten seconds to notice it, and he smiles at me, revealing a set of disgusting, yellow teeth. I smile at him playfully, then add a wink, and he's hooked. Strutting over like he's the best thing since bread, he puts his hand on top of mine.

"I couldn't help but notice how lonely you look, boy." The words nearly make me sick. "How would you like to keep an old man some company?"

I turn to look at him. "I have to warn you, sir; I'm wildly expensive."

He gives out a hearty laugh. "You let me worry about that, boy. I am one of the richest men in the kingdom, after all."

"Oh?" I smile dumbly. "I had no idea I was in such esteemed company."

"Take me to your brothel, boy." he orders, all playfulness gone.

"It's quite a bit away. Perhaps we could use my room instead?" I offer. "It's in that hotel right across the street."

"Fine. Fine." he waves his hand dismissively. "So long as you keep your mouth shut, I'll make it worth your while."

I take him by the hand and start leading him toward the place where he would meet his end. We slowly go up the stairs as I prepare the key, and as soon as we enter, he slams the door shut and kisses me. I close my eyes and let him do what he thinks we're here to do. It's disgusting, but it's why I'm here. He pushes me back towards the bed, then climbs on top of me. He smells like gin and shit, and you never would have assumed he was a noble at that moment. As his hand gets closed to my groin, my hand gets closer to the knife I have hidden in the right sleeve of my jacket. I sit up and kiss him deeply enough for him to close his eyes, then strike. He never gets the chance to scream, as the blade pierces his windpipe. Blood spurts all over me after I pull it out. The disgusting old man brings his hands to his neck, trying to stop the bleeding, but I can tell from the look in his eyes he knows he's going to die. He falls on top of me, still thrashing. I lie there until his lifeless body finally comes to a stop, then push him to the ground. I'm surprised he doesn't fall through the floor.