The lonely guard stood outside the tent. It was past midnight and already he was beginning to grow tired and longed for rest. He held his spear tighter and moved about in his armour. He was guarding the general sleeping in the more luxurious tent than what he had to sleep in, yet rank had its privileges. He slowly began to close his eyelids, no stopping it now, no chance, then everything went black. Rodger released the corpse from his grasp. “Too easy,” he thought as he hid the body in the tall dark shadows that weren’t defeated by the light of fires. “The generals in sight, all I need to do is cut his throat.” Roger moved in silence and peeked through the tent door. A lump in the ground was identified as General Enrique. This Republic of the Iberians General was known to be a superb warrior and hard to kill. Whether it is in the battlefield or off the battlefield, this man was invincible. But not to Rodger, Rodger had killed over ninety-nine victims in his service to the Royal Guild of Agents in his home country of Albion. This would be his hundredth in his short service to the guild of only one year. He was barely in his early twenties and had bright blue eyes and blonde hair that made him look more younger, yet his cold hearted approach to his missions, and mature responses to people during times of peace, made him act much older than he should have been.
“This is it, the moment you’ve been waiting for Roger, kill him and you’ll advance in rank,” his thoughts told him. He quietly entered the tent. Something wasn’t right; he felt it in his bones. He had learnt to trust his instincts in times of need and although this wasn’t a time of need it was suspicious non the less. He grabbed his short bow and arrow and aimed at the lump. If he heard a sound of piercing flesh, he knew it was human. If it wasn’t, he knew it was a decoy. He shot the arrow into the lump and it didn’t make a sound of flesh, oh no this was a decoy. “I’ve been tricked!” he hissed. As he moved towards the lump it was revealed to be bags of wheat under a blanket. His anger had to be quickly repulsed, he knew anger was often the cause of failure, and an emotion not needed to a murderer. He grabbed the arrow placed it in his quiver and sneaked outside. He then saw the true general walking with two guards down to this fake commanders tent. He acted fast cutting a hole through the tent with his knife and escaped into the darkness.
It wasn’t over yet, he released his hood from his head and revealed his blond hair sweaty and dirty from his many days travelling across the south of The Kingdom of the Three Lions (his homeland) and crossing by boat to the land of the Franks and then south to Iberia. His contact filled him in and before he knew it he was travelling across the countryside looking for Fort New Love. He was told it was called that because the first general who was posted there got married in the fort and it was rightly named New Love. Yet Roger was about to change the name to split blood. He was looking for a way to kill that blasted general. From his hiding place in the shadows he noticed a derelict part of the forts ancient stonewalls. “Perfect,” he thought. The sight was a crumbling tower of this old sight now showing the north was becoming lawless and derelict. It had rubble that obstructed anyone’s sight on him and it faced directly towards the tent. Roger sneaked past tents and sleeping guards. He raced up the broken stairs and arrived at the very top.
Enrique observed the hole in the decoy he could see an arrow shot had pierced it and the wheat was pouring out. His bodyguard entered. “Sir we have found the body of the guard who was stationed here,” he reported.
“Do you know his name?” asked the calm general, who wasn’t really interested in the death.
“Afonso my lord,” was the reply. He looked at his master for orders.
“Take his body away and bury him we will notify his family tomorrow.”
“Yes sir,” just before they left he added “What about the killer?” A look of a puzzled man was on his face and perhaps fear. “We will hunt him down, he cannot have gone far,” he said and they left the tent. Bodyguard side by side he only had show his upper body before an arrow pierced his throat and knocked him into the tent. Dead before he hit ground. The guards rang the alarm and soldiers struggled to get out of their slumber and look for Roger. Grabbing a rope he had he tied it on a fallen brick and abseiled down the tower, and to make sure they couldn’t follow him he cut the rope. He escaped into the wilderness never to be seen by anyone for time being.
Assassins Virtue
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