The Assassination
By: Ben
Written: 5/25/05
The young king was afraid. His advisors had discovered a plot to kill him. Worse, the assassin was the notorious Shakka the Half-Dragon, a criminal wanted in half of the world. The assassination was supposed to occur in two days, when the king was to give an audience to the public in honor of the Feast of Logic. The king had become very worried, but finally decided on a plan.
“I shall hire an assassin to protect me from an assassin,” he said to himself, thinking himself clever.
“Guards!” he called and his 15 personal bodyguards came running. “I wish to hire an assassin. Which of the inns in town would I be most likely to find a good one in?”
The guards led him to a disreputable part of the castle town, to a pub called Royalty’s Demise. The king saw the name and at first panicked, but, surrounded by his guards, he felt that he could not possibly be in danger.
In the pub, he asked the bartender, “Is there an assassin here?”
The bartender, who reeked of old cheese, looked at the king strangely, but pointed toward the back corner, where a man cloaked in a dark robe sat. None of his features were visible except for his right hand that held his mug of ale. The king sat down across the grainy table from him. The thought of the cloaked man’s eyes watching him from beneath the robe frightened him.
“What do you want?” the man said in a low voice like a lizard’s growl.
“I need you to assist me,” said the king, trying to overcome his fear of talking to an unknown man. “Can you kill someone for me?”
“Maybe,” came the reply.
The king growing bolder, said, “I need you to kill Shakka the Half-Dragon when he comes after me on the Feast of Logic. I will pay you 100,000 gold coins and provide you with a sniper rifle for your services.”
“It seems we have a deal,” the mercenary said, his hand reaching to shake the king’s.
Two days later, the king was to give his speech. Even with the assassin he had hired to give him protection, he was still afraid that Shakka might kill him. So he crept from his chamber to his courtyard, watching every shadowy side corridor with suspicion and fear. Finally, he reached the pulpit above the courtyard. He could see his assassin, still cloaked, on a far wall, peering at the gathering crowd through the scope of his rifle for the unmistakable reptilian features of a half-dragon. The guards at the gate were making all the people coming through the gate remove their headgear to see if they had scales. The timid king began to speak to the crowd, gaining confidence as he spoke.
After several hours of speaking and answering requests, the king saw the sniper suddenly become alert, appearing to track something. The king’s fear of Shakka came back. He ran to the edge of the pulpit and looked down. The sniper rifle fired—BAM—and the king felt the bullet enter his chest. The sniper he had hired had shot him. He looked toward the battlement where the sniper stood. The recoil of the gun had knocked off his hood, revealing the reptilian features of a half-dragon. The king fell back, tasting salty blood in his mouth, realizing that, in his own paranoia, he had given his enemy the opportunity to kill him. Then he died.
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