The Assassination
featuring Tremel Darthur and Avalgen Kaptaris.
5th of March, 159 PE.
It was early into the night, the moon, barely visible behind the heavy clouds of the cold March day, was softly lighting up the rooftops of the newly built Imperial Palace. The assassin would've taken his time to admire the architecture, if he was there for any other reason, but he instead kept his focus on his target of the night. His Greatness, Avalgen Kaptaris. A man of stature and authority, full of charisma, who was currently commanding the room of the reception he had organized to celebrate the construction of his new palace. The assassin wasn't particularly patriotic, or hateful towards his prey, but he still felt a slight hint of resentment. Many were dying of hunger in the Empire, including the Taberxi people he had exchanged the loyalty of in exchange of enough supplies of food to survive the long winter. And meanwhile, the Emperor was feasting on a mountain of food, acting like nothing was wrong and he was the center of the universe. The man shook his head. He couldn't let it distract you. It didn't take him long to find a path to success. He had been doing this job longer than anyone else, and he had chosen this night for a reason. The palace wasn't fully secured yet, he had plenty of accesses and escapes, and in the middle of the crowd of interested nobles, he could be more discreet. Covered in an ethereal shroud of shadows, he slid down the wall from the window like a blade of air, and leaned his back to the wall like he had been there for hours. Nobody paid any attention, unsurprisingly. All eyes were on the Emperor, trying to figure out a way to extort some favors from him. Approaching the Emperor wasn't difficult: he simply had to act like another one of them, and to talk about his daughter, who would be a perfect match for one of the monarch's sons... And that was it. The Emperor certainly did not expect the blade that entered his neck, sectionning his spinal cord and his jugular. The abnormally sharp knife went through the carotid with no resistance, then exited on the other side, nearly decapitating the man, who barely had time to look shocked, before falling on the groud, his blood gushing out of his wound and splashing on the already-panicked nobles around him. Already at the other end of the room, Tremel didn't even get a drop of blood on his jacket, and slipped out of the room the same way he came in, stealthier than a whisper. His exit was almost easier than getting in, with all the guards of the castle now rushing in to the main room to arrest every noble and protect the lifeless body of their fallen Emperor. The assassin didn't feel anything. This was a job for him, plain and simple, and his employer wasn't in any way a better person than her enemy. The chaos that would follow in the next few days would probably take many more lives, and whether it would better or worsen the lives of the people, was to be seen, but that wasn't any of his business anymore. He stood still for a few seconds, and then, he was gone. All traces of his presence, erased, and the mystery of the murder of the Emperor, would remain for centuries, unsolved.
It was early into the night, the moon, barely visible behind the heavy clouds of the cold March day, was softly lighting up the rooftops of the newly built Imperial Palace. The assassin would've taken his time to admire the architecture, if he was there for any other reason, but he instead kept his focus on his target of the night. His Greatness, Avalgen Kaptaris. A man of stature and authority, full of charisma, who was currently commanding the room of the reception he had organized to celebrate the construction of his new palace. The assassin wasn't particularly patriotic, or hateful towards his prey, but he still felt a slight hint of resentment. Many were dying of hunger in the Empire, including the Taberxi people he had exchanged the loyalty of in exchange of enough supplies of food to survive the long winter. And meanwhile, the Emperor was feasting on a mountain of food, acting like nothing was wrong and he was the center of the universe. The man shook his head. He couldn't let it distract you. It didn't take him long to find a path to success. He had been doing this job longer than anyone else, and he had chosen this night for a reason. The palace wasn't fully secured yet, he had plenty of accesses and escapes, and in the middle of the crowd of interested nobles, he could be more discreet. Covered in an ethereal shroud of shadows, he slid down the wall from the window like a blade of air, and leaned his back to the wall like he had been there for hours. Nobody paid any attention, unsurprisingly. All eyes were on the Emperor, trying to figure out a way to extort some favors from him. Approaching the Emperor wasn't difficult: he simply had to act like another one of them, and to talk about his daughter, who would be a perfect match for one of the monarch's sons... And that was it. The Emperor certainly did not expect the blade that entered his neck, sectionning his spinal cord and his jugular. The abnormally sharp knife went through the carotid with no resistance, then exited on the other side, nearly decapitating the man, who barely had time to look shocked, before falling on the groud, his blood gushing out of his wound and splashing on the already-panicked nobles around him. Already at the other end of the room, Tremel didn't even get a drop of blood on his jacket, and slipped out of the room the same way he came in, stealthier than a whisper. His exit was almost easier than getting in, with all the guards of the castle now rushing in to the main room to arrest every noble and protect the lifeless body of their fallen Emperor. The assassin didn't feel anything. This was a job for him, plain and simple, and his employer wasn't in any way a better person than her enemy. The chaos that would follow in the next few days would probably take many more lives, and whether it would better or worsen the lives of the people, was to be seen, but that wasn't any of his business anymore. He stood still for a few seconds, and then, he was gone. All traces of his presence, erased, and the mystery of the murder of the Emperor, would remain for centuries, unsolved.
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