The Art of Rebellion

I’m having dinner at a restaurant near the hotel where I’m temporarily staying, watching my target stuff his mouth with more food than should be physically possible. His name is Gerald Anderson, and he is among those who presume to call themselves The Council of The People, a group formed under the pretense of advising this once great kingdom’s leader, a boy of twelve, on how to rule. In actuality, they feed him lies about the happiness of the people, telling him how content we are and how his wisdom inspires us, oppressing us all the while. The nobles who support them are allowed to do as they please with us common folk. It’s been a long time since we were considered more than cattle. To them, we are no longer human. Anyone who opposes The Council mysteriously disappears, or absolute proof about a crime they’ve committed gets discovered, the king remaining non the wiser. How exactly do they succeed in taming the many? Aro, the puppeteer pulling the king’s strings and the leader of The Council has the power to control minds. Only a few possess the capacity for magic, and even fewer can use it to such an extent. To even be capable of using it, you would require a power stone. There are many kinds of those, but few fall into the hands of sorcerers, which is the only time they have real value. Instead, they’re mostly worn by nobility as accessories.

Gerald gets up and goes over to the bar, so I get up and follow him. The only way around the guards that are constantly with him is for him to willingly dismiss them, which only happens when he’s having sex. It’s one of the least kept secrets in the kingdom that he prefers men much younger than himself, so I’m qualified to get him alone. I sit on the opposite end of the circular bar from him, making sure he can see me. I smile and pulled the golden chain out from underneath my shirt and put it on display; A known symbol pleasure houses use to make it easier for their employees to be identified. It takes the old lecher less than ten seconds to notice it, and he smiles at me, revealing a set of disgusting, yellow teeth. I smile at him playfully, then add a wink, and he’s hooked. Strutting over like he’s the best thing since bread, he puts his hand on top of mine.

“I couldn’t help but notice how lonely you look, boy.” The words nearly make me sick. “How would you like to keep an old man some company?”

I turn to look at him. “I have to warn you, sir; I’m wildly expensive.”

He gives out a hearty laugh. “You let me worry about that, boy. I am one of the richest men in the kingdom, after all.”

“Oh?” I smile dumbly. “I had no idea I was in such esteemed company.”

“Take me to your brothel, boy.” he orders, all playfulness gone.

“It’s quite a bit away. Perhaps we could use my room instead?” I offer. “It’s in that hotel right across the street.”

“Fine. Fine.” he waves his hand dismissively. “So long as you keep your mouth shut, I’ll make it worth your while.”

I take him by the hand and start leading him toward the place where he would meet his end. We slowly go up the stairs as I prepare the key, and as soon as we enter, he slams the door shut and kisses me. I close my eyes and let him do what he thinks we’re here to do. It’s disgusting, but it’s why I’m here. He pushes me back towards the bed, then climbs on top of me. He smells like gin and shit, and you never would have assumed he was a noble at that moment. As his hand gets closed to my groin, my hand gets closer to the knife I have hidden in the right sleeve of my jacket. I sit up and kiss him deeply enough for him to close his eyes, then strike. He never gets the chance to scream, as the blade pierces his windpipe. Blood spurts all over me after I pull it out. The disgusting old man brings his hands to his neck, trying to stop the bleeding, but I can tell from the look in his eyes he knows he’s going to die. He falls on top of me, still thrashing. I lie there until his lifeless body finally comes to a stop, then push him to the ground. I’m surprised he doesn’t fall through the floor.

I take out the onyx in my possession - the power stone that lets one control the dead to a certain agree - and guide its power all over his body. Within moments, Gerald Anderson completely decays, then turns into dust, leaving no trace behind. “Ave Tyr.”

His death marks the twenty fourth life I’ve taken, and the first councilor the Rebellion has struck down. I ruffle my hair and crumple my clothes, making it look like we went through with the services he expected of me, then wait in the room for fifteen minutes. Once it’s done, I walk out of the hotel and head toward one of my partners in this city. It’s easy for a sorcerer to track down a sorcerer whose power they’re used to, as each of us gives off a unique signature. I’m not surprised in the least to find her in a tavern, drinking ale and cheating a bunch of suckers in poker. This has gotten her into her fair share of trouble in the past. Her small build, big blue eyes and innocent demeanor make it impossible for strangers to tell how formidable she is.

“En,” I say as soon as I walk through the door. “Let’s go.”

She gets up the table, stocking her usually empty bras with the cash of her fallen opponents, an idiotic grin on her face. “Ah, well. It’s been nice knowin’ ya fellas,” she winks at them. “Thanks for my new horse, and dress, and house and everythin’ else. Love ya!”

The people of this town are under the impression that we’re twins, despite the fact that I’m tall, tanned and dark haired, while she’s short, blonde and pale. How, you ask? Simple. En is one of the best illusionists in the entire kingdom - certainly the greatest one I’ve met - and she’s glamoured herself to appear a certain way in the eyes of the magicless. That, combined with my unique ability to sense a person’s desires, makes us effective at infiltration and assassination.

“Did you really gamble while I risked my life?” I ask, and she does her best to imitate an innocent smile.

“We’ll need the money to get to the capital, right?”

She’s not wrong. Nareth is our final destination, where the rest of the council members will be killed. They’re far from the biggest threat to us, but the people they surround themselves with will be tough to get through.

“How much did you use?” She cocks her head. “Anything we should worry about?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Just to get rid of the body. I’ll probably just get a nosebleed.” It was the way of power stones. Nothing came without a price with them. The use of an onyx means your body will start bleeding some time the following day. The more you use it, the more blood comes out. It’s even possible to die from it, which is why a lot of sorcerers steer clear of the stones. Not everyone is lucky enough to have that choice. Without them, we wouldn’t stand a chance against some of the kingdom’s higher ranking sorcerers.

“That’s good,” she says as we walk past the town limits. “I’d hate to have to get a new partner so soon.” Just another perk of being in this line of work. People died left and right. It was better to avoid getting attached to anyone. You never know when your grief and the anger that comes with it might hinder you. “You got our masks on you? It would seriously suck to get on a wanted poster.”

I nod, taking them out of my bag. Mine is black, with the lower part of it stretch forward in a beak, which earned me the codename Raven within Tyr. En’s is is white, resembling a swan. “I still don’t understand why birds are given to assassins,” I confess. “How exactly are birds murderous?”

“Ain’t about that.” She shakes her head, her annoyingly constant smile on her face. “Birds can fly anywhere, which means they can infiltrate anything. That’s what it’s supposed to be about, anyhow.”

We finally get to an empty well, and I can’t wait to get out of this awful desert town. I’ve got sand in places I wasn’t even aware sand could physically reach. “You’ve got it?”

She nods, then pulls out a small flask out of her own bag and starts pouring its contents into the well. Instead of water, a green liquid comes out and starts swirling in the air at the top of the well. Within seconds, she’s created us a portal.

“Ladies first,” I offer, but she just scoffs.

“I’m no lady. Not anymore.”

Suit yourself, then. I jump into the well and watch the lower part of my body disappear into the swirling vortex. I emerge from the main portal back at HQ, a large, underground fortress. As I step out of the large well, one of the keepers, a blonde boy around ten years younger than me, bows respectfully.

“What did I say about doing that, Hasta?” I shake my head as the words leave my mouth. “You’re not my butler.”

“It is the way of-”

“It’s the way of your people. Blah blah.” I wave him off. “Yeah, I get it. But you’re not with your people right now, kid.” He’s an Enian, the same race as En is. Their basic characteristics are blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin. Whenever they’re captured by the king’s men, they typically get turned into sex slaves, as blonde hair is pretty rare in the capital. “You don’t see En doing that, do you?”

Almost as if she’d hear me, my partner comes out of the portal. “Manners are bullshit.”

Hasta nearly faints as he hears the words. The two don’t get along well, mostly because he’s proud of his people, whereas she couldn’t care less. I can’t say I blame him. He has nothing else in this world, just like the rest of us; No family, no friends, no home. He’ll learn how little our former lives matter during his stay here, which I hope won’t be as short as most of them. I actually like the boy. He’s got hidden spunk.

“I wasn’t gonna bow to you, anyway,” he says, making me chuckle as En frowns.

“Have you no respect for your elders?”

“You’re two years older than me.”

“Exactly! I’m your elder!”

I walk away before they can force me to take sides. “Go report to the boss, will ya?” I throw over my shoulder, then leave the room. What I’m about to do might not be particularly professional, but being a assassin really makes one tense. I need a drink, and more. It doesn’t take me long to get where I plan on getting both, since I’ve been here for over two years now, and know the fortress just about as well as one could. I knock on the door, and a brown haired girl slightly younger than me opens. Her green eyes light up at the sight of me, and she throws her arms around my neck, then kisses me deeply. I push her inside, taking my shirt off as soon as the door closes. We’re both already used to each other’s bodies, so there’s no shyness. If you can die at any moment, you might as well live life to the fullest. She stripes completely nude, but I don’t do anything to remove my pants; She prefers to do that part. In fact, she’s really hands-on, which isn’t that common for women. Most of the ones I’ve been with only lied there, expecting me to know what they want me to do without even telling me.

“Nice to see you, too, Ry,” I can’t help but smirk as I say it. Our relationship isn’t romantic in the least. Actually, I think she might even be my best friend here, not that there’s much competition. We both know what the other likes, and we give it them. It’s as simple as that. Getting emotionally attached would only cause us pain when the other inevitably dies.

“No talking.” She pushes me down on her bed, then climbs on top of me, leaning down to kiss me again. She brings my hands up to the headboard and ties them to it with her sheet. “When we’re done here, you’ll be begging me to let you finish.”

She’s probably mad I was given the latest mission instead of her. She’s not one of the birds. Instead, she’s codenamed Viper, taken from her mask, just as the case was with the rest of us. She’s personally wanted to kill Anderson because of what his men did to her family, but the boss cared more about the mission than our personal feelings, which is what a boss should be like. The only reason I was chosen over Ry is because of the old man’s preference for men.

I’m well aware she’s incapable of making me beg. After fifteen minutes of her bouncing up and down, she gets off and stares at me, sulking silently.

“You know you want this even more than I do,” I say, smirking as her resolve crumbles away. She undoes the bindings around my hands, and I flip us over, then get to doing my share of the work. By the time we’re done, which isn’t that long, she’s pouting.

“Only because you were gone for three whole days, Kol.”

I’d tell you I’m surprised, but that would be an outright lie. Most days here I have to avoid staying in the same room for more than a few minutes, lest I risk her finding me and dragging me away. Now, sure, we aren’t romantically involved, and it’s not that I don’t want to hurt her feelings out of the goodness of my heart, but that any grudge she might hold against me as a result of defiance could come back to bite us both in the middle of a mission, which is a dangerous time to be bitten in the ass.

“This seemed like something you’d like, by the way,” she says, taking a book out of the drawer of her bedside counter. Oh crap, we’re at the point where we give each other things. “We aren’t at the point where we give each other things, by the way.” Oh, well nevermind then. “Some rich guy bought it for me while I flirted with him. It’s interesting. The main character is a sorcerer.”

“What?” That’s a surprise. Sure, everyone was aware sorcery existed, but we were discriminated against. Sorcerers have no legal rights, and we’re often executed just for existing. The main religion of this kingdom - the one which worships the god called Anesh - is against everything supernatural, despite the fact that gods are also supernatural. It makes about as much sense as every other religion. It’s a surprise to learn someone was bold enough to write about sorcery and then publish the book. If the author isn’t careful, he could be persecuted. I take the book from Ry and take the cover in. “The Sorcerer’s Vengeance by Eliza Drucelli,” I read out loud. “A woman wrote this? I’m guessing they already killed her.” It’s one of those places where women couldn’t legally own money, and where they were mostly expected to just marry rich men and have them be the providers. Honestly, we’re in the fourth century. They should stop acting like we’re still back in the Seison times.

“Nope.” Ry is smiling smugly. “She uses magic, too. Gave a guy a fake name and made him copy the book she wrote, then distribute it throughout the kingdom. She gave the guards a slip and is still at large. The guy she used is the one who got killed for it.” I’m probably supposed to say something like ‘poor guy’, but I have no pity to spare on strangers. “Feel free to stay here and read,” she adds. “I’m heading out now.”

“Mission?”

“Yep.”

I don’t tell her goodbye. If you do that, then your business with the person is done. They have no obligation to come see you again, and I don’t want that. I don’t want anything about this to be final, so I settle for another choice of words. “Good luck.”

She nods, a grim expression on her face, then steps out of the room. I stare at the closed door for several minutes, assuring myself she’ll be fine, and that even if she doesn’t make it, it wouldn’t affect me. Finally, I open the book and start reading.

The story is about a young boy named John, who discovers he’s a sorcerer. A neighbor sees him create fire one night, so the royal militia is called to take him away. His parents and older sister try to protect him, but end up being killed in the process, so he swears revenge against the kingdom. He ends up joining a gang full of members with a similar goal to his. They all want to bring about change. Hours pass as I read through it, feeling extremely uneasy. The book is nearly an identical copy of my life, from my family to the Rebellion. Who could the author actually be?

Eliza Drucelli, I’m going to find you.