Assassination attempts were part of the royal game. Many kings and queens of the Hearted continent had sole heirs simply to try and keep their children from being required to destroy their siblings in the bloody rush towards the throne.

Edward always wondered how different the world would be if the royal reign ended, and power could only be transferred through peaceful means, rather than this awful bloody game.

The first thing he knew about such a utopia is that he would be out of a job.

Edward had not wanted to be an assassin growing up, he had just fallen into the wrong crowd. One day he was stealing sweets from the candy shop, the next he was stealing gold from noble houses. Finally, one day his friend handed him a knife and said that there would be some good money if he stabbed some guy.

It was a lucrative job, even if it was dangerous and a little morally reprehensible. It had gotten a lot better recently once he had come into the personal assassin force run by the princess Dahlia. He even received benefits now. Any injury he suffered on a mission short of death, would be healed at no cost. And he now had a dentist; Edward had never had a dentist before.

It was a pretty cushy life, as long as one felt no moral reprehensions about killing important people.

Edward had been surprised to learn that important people died just as easily as boring people. He had grown up in the slums of Vena Cava, the outer ring that wasn’t even counted as a ring. He had seen poverty; he had seen people waste away. And it had blown his mind the first time he had killed a nobleman to see him waste away in such a similar way.

There was no dignity in shitting your pants as you succumb to your wounds.

So, Edward didn’t worry about it anymore. Since life was so cheap his actions were essentially meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

Today was going to be a big day though. With the royal feud coming to a head soon, Dahlia was hoping to take the wind out of her brother’s proverbial sails. The prince did not lead by being the strongest, instead he had some sort of invisible magnetism that drew powerful figures to his cause.

Dahlia knew she had little chance of taking out Ian or even getting to his personal politician Rose, so she settled on a more important prey. She was going to take out his personal seer and steal their prized flute.

The meetings had been long and arduous in getting this assassination team ready to take Sam the seer out. Sam’s techniques were well documented, and this team had been created with the sole purpose of taking them out.

Their spies had concluded that Sam had a purely informational gift. They seemed to be able to read the future in the movement of snakes. This would have already made them a powerful seer, but then they acquired the flute.

There were no records of the flute ever existing, but it seemed to have strong ties to Death. It must have been a relic of one of the earlier ages, but if it had been on the Hearted Continent there was no way such a useful relic would have lain undisturbed for thousands of years.

Thus, the princess’ personal theory had arisen. They believed that Sam had taken a journey to the Dead Continent in secret. There was no record of any travel having occurred, but she was convinced that was how Sam had acquired the flute so tied to Death.

The flute allowed Sam to take dead things and make them turn into snakes. A terrifying power at the best of times but made even more ridiculous by the range of things that were considered dead.

Most of the team’s planning had been about finding weaknesses in what was considered dead.

Was the leather on their boots considered to be dead since it was made from a dead animal?

Was the food in their stomachs considered to be dead?

Would the wool of their clothes be considered dead since the animals that had given the wool up were now dead?

These questions and many more plagued the princess’ team as they tried to come up with the perfect ambush for Sam.

In the end, the team decided to play it safe and not eat for days before the assassination attempt. They would only wear chain mail and armor so that their clothes wouldn’t turn into snakes around them. These preparations left the men and women of the team incredibly annoyed.

Tempers were short and their genitals were cold. Metal was not a wonderful thing to wear without any padding and a few members of the squad were very vocal about their dislike of these working conditions.

Edward just felt that it was a return to the days before he was employed by Dahlia. He felt like a foolish child embarking on a mission that he barely understood. But that was what he was paid to do, and it was idiotic to give up on such a lucrative job.

The night was cold as the team prepared to enter the prince’s domain. This only added to the discomfort felt by the assassins, but Edward felt that it was Nature’s way of making them pay for such immoral acts.

Being an assassin made Edward give up his own sense of justice, all that was left was praying that his employers were truly doing something right and just. They had explored all the other options and all that was left was this final option - his knife. He left the blame behind and just became an instrument of Death; appearing only when the coin was plentiful, and the conditions were favorable.

But deep down there was still a smidgen of a conscious, and Edward used the cold as self-flagellation. It was the punishment for being out at this time of night, when only bad things happened.

The team had made a startling ally within the prince’s inner circle, and they were going to take advantage of this asset tonight. He would obviously be compromised this night, but these were the losses necessary to take out the big players in this game.

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Edward noticed a small patch of shadow become imperceptibly deeper for a moment. It was like he could see into some endless abyss, and from that abyss came a man with a trench coat and a bowler hat. Their contact, Benny, had arrived.

“Glad to see all you fine ladies and gentlemen could make it here tonight.” Benny fidgeted with the corners of his coat. His voice betrayed none of the nervousness he must be feeling, it was filled with enough false bravado to crumble empires. But his hands gave him away.

Edward could empathize a little with the squirrely man. He was betraying his employer and a man who trusted him incredibly. How did someone come to terms with those sorts of betrayals?

Apparently, by fiddling with his coat.

The team did one final check of the tools. The religious among them said the prayers to their chosen gods, and they entered the shadowy realm that Benny commanded.

Benny didn’t say much as they were brought through the shadows of his world, and Edward was glad for the silence. He knew Benny wasn’t a bad guy, it was just that his voice irritated Edward immensely.

The world around them was amorphous, the ground beneath their feet flickered in and out of sight. Great beasts made of shadow roared in the distance, yet never came close to the travelling group of assassins. It was a terrifying place of deceit and falsehoods.

The air shuddered around Benny as he declared, “we’re here.” All his false bravado had slipped away during their short journey. Edward felt bad for the kid, but he had a job to do that was more important than patting the little man on the shoulder and telling him that everything was going to be alright.

The assassins shared one more nod between them. There was a silent understanding between them. They would do the job, and whoever survived would eat a big meal after.

Benny commanded the shadows to engulf the team, and they appeared in a circle. Blades out, teeth bared, they looked down at the king Renoir who was eating dinner.

Edward knew that something was wrong, and he reached deep down inside himself to grab his gift, only to find a massive wall blocking him. The king’s guard, Cor, looked down at the ants that had interrupted the king’s dinner.

Cor raised her sword and beheaded the assassin closest to her. The assassins scrambled at the instant death of one of their companions. They had been betrayed, something was wrong, Chaos ruled this moment in time.

Everything was horrible, limbs flew in an array of directions as Cor hunted the assassins down one by one. Until the king rapped the table on time.

A terrifying force emanated from the king. The remaining assassins fell to their knees as blood trickled from their wounds and blood streamed from their eyes.

“I have far too many rats in my castle. You there, tell me how this happened?” The king gestured towards Edward to answer.

In Edward’s mind the king was a force beyond humanity, he was speaking to a god made flesh.

“We were going to assassinate the seer Sam, but I assume we were double crossed by the prince’s attendant, Benny, who we thought had been bribed to work for us.”

“Well, it seems that my children are letting this war make them impertinent. Cor, will you deliver these assassins’ heads to my unruly son and inform him that I will be doing no more of his dirty work. The next time he forces some of his sister’s assassins upon me I will let them have another try at him with your personal help, Cor.”

Cor nodded and started beheading the remaining assassins one by one. As Edward waited for the end, he was not filled with fear, only with envy for the bounty of food on king Renoir’s plate and wishing that he could have died on a full stomach.

___

Handel was princess Dahlia’s personal assassin. He had told her that misinformation was the most important part of any war and thus his current mission had spawned from her understanding of his lesson.

She knew that her brother had a very loyal base of supporters, so she was extremely cautious of the fact that Benny had approached her to help with her cause. Thus, she had created two missions in tandem; both of them were to assassinate Sam the seer, but Benny only knew about one of them.

As soon as your enemy thinks they know your next move, you have won. Dahlia was playing the game of deception well and Handel could not be more impressed with his pupil.

So, Handel and a small team of assassins were now sneaking into the prince’s castle and making their way towards the seer’s room.

The air smelled of death and reptiles. A pervasive stink that let everyone know that animals shit in this section of the castle, and no one cleaned it up.

Handel gripped his knives reverently before kicking down the door to Sam’s chambers. Silently, the team burst into the room trying to find where the seer was in the dark cramped room.

Handel slowly looked around the room and saw that the seer was not inside of it. Or if they were, they were not visible. He walked deeper into the room, noting that the smell of shit emanated from a pit on the floor of this room. Hundreds of snakes writhed ceaselessly in the pit, hissing in a chaotic melody.

It was unfortunate, but they had planned for the fact that Sam may not have been in this chamber. Handel called one of his subordinates over. Every single assassin on his team had some useful gift, but this one was able to find things. If they knew what an object looked like they were able to find it again.

Handel asked where the wooden flute was located, but his subordinate just shook his head and pointed to the pit of snakes.

No way, Handel thought. Sam can’t be in the pit of snakes, it’s insane, it’s stupid, it’s disgusting. Or maybe they leave the flute in the pit of snakes at night? But then how would they be able to get the flute out of the pit?

But Handel trusted his subordinate, so he reached into his own soul space and pulled out a shard of metal. His gift wasn’t flashy or powerful, when he had received it so many years ago, he had been quite disappointed. But now, he knew the true worth of complete control.

He had complete and utter control of this one hunk of metal. That was the entirety of his gift. Handel had the ability to move this metal with perfect precision.

Handel envisioned the metal cutting through every single snake in the pit. And he watched in awe as the scrappy piece of metal did just that. It flew this way and that, cutting the heads from snakes as it zipped back and forth.

Moments later, all that was left in the pit was a pile of dead snakes.

A mournful note was played. It emanated down from the pit, beneath the snakes, beneath all the death and blood and guts, a single note of pain was played.

“Shit, they’re here.” Handel said it calmly even though he did not feel calm at that moment. Even if he didn’t see them in the pit, there was no way they could have avoided his flying piece of metal. If they were beneath all those snakes, how were they still alive?

Handel watched as the corpses of thousands of dead snakes seemed to converge together then blur. Reality shifted as the corpses became one giant snake. Upon its head sat Sam, still playing the mournful tune.

The entire team burst into motion. Flames spewed from hands, knives flashed in the air, and words of power were spoken. But none of it mattered. The giant snake curled itself around Same and protected them from the onslaught.

The flute stopped playing as the snake started to succumb to the wounds that Handel’s team had wrought upon it.

“Who decides what is dead?” Sam’s voice reached through the chamber and brushed the ears of the assassins.

One of the women on Handel’s team with more bravado than good sense replied, “our employers.”

A quiet chuckle filled the chamber. It really was a good response to the question.

“A few thousand years ago, there was a man with the gift to see things that were beyond the human eye. He had questions for the gods themselves, he wanted to know what reality was made of. So, he peered deeper and deeper into the world and into the people in it until he saw. Our bodies are made of trillions of little, tiny cells, and we die when enough of them die.”

Handel was not in the mood for megalomaniacal monologuing, so he walked slowly towards the body of the snake, hoping to find a vantage point from which to attack the seer.

“But the most interesting thing that this man found was that some of the cells within human bodies are already dead. They are part of a living organism, but they have ceased all functions that we would think of as life!”

Handel heard Sam rap a knuckle against the lifeless body of the massive snake surrounding them.

“Goodbye, my lovelies.”

Handel felt a rush of fear as Sam started playing a less sorrowful tune. Were they going to reanimate the corpse of the massive snake? What was next?

Handel felt excruciating pain as all the hair on his body turned into snakes. Fangs rushed to meet him as he tried to bat them away. But they were in his clothes, on his face, and surrounding him on all sides.

They bit and bit until the world turned black and Handel felt himself take the first step towards Death.

Sam stopped playing the flute, but it was already too late for anyone. The assassins were dead or dying in a horrifying manner.

“All of this to say, who decides what is dead? If I didn’t know that your cells were already dead, would I be able to manipulate them in this way? When does something truly die?”

“We can only know that something is dead if it was known to have once lived. Without the proof of life, there would be nothing.”

“Ah well, my audience has finally died at last, let’s get this cleaned up.”

With a flourish, the mesmerizing flute music started again, and the corpses disappeared as if they were never there in the first place.