"Immigrant Song"

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“Immigrant Song”

            The women reached into the slit at the bottom of her leather pocket, feeling around for the practically idolatrized dagger. The smooth metal was never more than mere millimeters out of reach at all times. While it was her choice never to go without it, the mentality of always having a weapon for protection was immutable. Within the garish party it was impossible to detect, though nobody would think to check the hostess. Such a weapon as she possessed was an act of sedition that warranted the death of even the elite few, not just impecunious citizens. Having lived most her life within the adulterating capital, it become clear at a very young age how ruthlessly the government reaction to any sort of rebellion. This could not be seen as impious, to plot another’s death, it could only be seen as a mercy to the people.

            But that mind set was exactly what would bring about her emanation into power. That diadem was more or less simply a figure upon the tyrant’s current wife’s head. It was almost too easy to take over control of the bucolic land when the women had arrived with an offer of resistance. Now, only a few hours lay between current reality and an epic revolution, she would practically smell the redolence of success. No gratuitous risks were being taken in the fear of a loyalist traitor within the Resistance defiling a plan that had taken years of strategizing and degrading actions to build.

One way or another, given the despot had received no caveat, which would have been virtually impossible since only those so far buried into the Resistance that they held “kill on glimpse” (for “kill on sight” implied that one must first identify then attack and within those few second the target may have a chance to escape) bounty knew the official route of execution. Four separate failsafe plans were in place should the dictator live though the first attack and the women herself had the onus task of delivering the final blow in each of them.

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