The Shadow of the Accursed Executioner

Chapter 12: The Prince of Betterment

Now the black figure had appeared through the light of the moon, moving. It, was a slender figure in a black suit of armoured hide, along with a plate of armour across the right shoulder. Black too, with an eerie mask which had beat my heart, endless-and cold, to keep me at freeze of endless fright. For the mask were like a hollow shell of many thickly long squiggles, spanning out like the mind of an exposed child's thoughts. An infested sun, protruding of the many pointed squiggles from around the mask, brought upon like a spell of endless fear itself.
And the figure strolled closer, and closer, the mask etched of a slit across the mouth and two steeped eyes from where they were to be, as the figure reveals a dagger from around the hip of its body, the figure now creeping toward the candle.
Now the mysterious figure, her mask, her presence, appeared beside the candle's faint flicker, as the assailant had placed the blade against the skin my neck.
"Do not even speak...not even a sound." She said.

Black Sun Floria: An informant plotting within the shadows, for the king and the people...

For her voice was soft from beneath the deeply muffles of her mask, depicting what had looked to be a large sun.
A black sun.
I thought.
For were it truly a member of the Black Suns-assassins who perform hidden deeds for the king and, for the people of the realm.
To think, to believe or not, am I to die right here in my own bed, expecting her now to press the blade into the skin of my neck then slash away with flickers of blood across the walls and a red pool to die in.
Yet I had froze and obeyed with eyes in fear, in place.
"...Do you know who I am?" She spoke with intent, her voice, frail, yet cold. "I am a blade released from the shackles of a bid. But a blade to kill. However..."
Then a silence had lingered through the blind air beside the candle's weak flame.
"However, even till this day...such departure from ourselves. We are no more."
"......"
"...I know who you are," She continued, "I know all the ones you love, and I know, that you know, of the prince's ambitions." She said, speaking as if she knew each voice, each face, and all minds.
I thought.
For did the king send an assassin to keep me in silence-or to silence Ayu, perhaps.
But then a memory had appeared from the depths of my freezing fear and silent obedience with the blade of her dagger, still against my neck.
To expand upon the realm, he said.
A perfect world, he said.
"You will diverge the prince's intentions for the future. His intentions to merge with the world beyond, to side along with humanity's unruly ends of the world, along with our realm as a world of rule. Order...from a realm, truly an order to change us from who we once were. Unruly." She answered. "For the path the next king will take, there will only be endless hatred, endless conflict. Many will die." She assured. Then gently, she brought away the blade's dagger from my neck, as she sheathed it back around her waist.
"Your prince must know. Know to be king. He, must rule the unruly. The prince must not corrupt this realm's legacy. An eighteen-thousand year old dynasty of rule and trust cannot continue with the prince's current intentions."
"..."
"And you will not speak of this occurrence." She said, turning away as she gaits through the dark, her back facing me. "Speak nothing of my presence. Or cease to exist. We, had never met."
Then the assassin stood beneath the light as she stared up at the angled roof, then to turn back with her masked face, a black sun, gazing from within two hollow eyes like two pits of steeped and burrowed dark.
"Persuade the prince." She said, her voice grew toward an unforgiving, yet hidden frailty of softness, the cold within her voice now even more frail. "He must rule... He must not merge with the unruly world..."
Then the assassin reached for the angled roof of the window from the boards of the cellar's floor with a leap, then to climb through the roof then vanish away, her presence now gone as if she had never come.
For then after a moment passing within the sheets of my bed beside the candle's faint flame and dark, I had rose from the bed to see to the window beneath the moonlight. I began to seal the light of the moon from the angled window, which was a small section of the roof's wattle and wood I were able to pull down attached to a rope. And now the moonlight was gone and the shop now buried within a blind dark but the candle, continues to illuminate like the soul of a flame.
Approaching toward the candle then back to bed, I fell back into the ruggedness of my sheets, conflicted.
Afraid.
For the next hour was a sleepless passing, my eyes now burning for sleep, my face yearning for deep rest. Yet the sharpness of my mind, the wanting to live, brought me through subtle thoughts of fear and wonder from the assassin.
The black sun assassin.
But eventually the terror and dread from the assassin's appearance had begun to fade. For sleep was here to bound me within the midst of night, a comfort beside the candle's flame inside the shop, now sealed away from the appearance of intruders for good, as I attempt to close my eyes within the adjustment of darkness once more.
Shutting my eyes for sleep, and abrupt.
Sleep was here, deep, and sound.