Pitch black and quiet. Guards posted but one asleep; entering the enemy camp was easier than I’d hoped. My target: the king, for abolishing my people (and related tribes) from these lands and following up with this invasion. His presence on ancestral lands is an affront which must be paid in blood.
The rows of tents are endless but the King’s palace is obvious. Death, Your Highness, will take you tonight. I hope your soul is prepared.
My dagger slices through the tent wall, loud in the silence. It can’t be helped.
Luck, you’ve guided me. Now guide my hand.
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