Slowly, I pull back the string of my long bow. The back of the steel tipped arrow tightly placed between my index and middle fingers. I concentrate on the target, observing every movement he makes. He is my eighteenth contract. Just another man to mark off the list of many. Just as I am about to release the arrow, the target wakes up to the sound of knocking. He grabs his robes and hat and heads to the door to greet his visitor. I gently disarm my bow and wait patiently.

The man’s name is Corbett de Lucceio, commonly known as the “Black Raven” in this village. His name doesn’t mean much to me, but it is helpful to know when performing the assassination of such contracts. Not only will it help me to track the contract, but also allow me to know the name of the poor life I will take.. I don’t mean to be heartless. This job isn’t easy to endure. Especially when it means taking so many lives. But the people I kill are just as cold and heartless as I am. Murderers, thieves, other assassins, bandits, we even have to hunt down tyrants from different kingdoms. Lucceio is no different from any of these.

My name is Demetrius. I have no last name. Well, I should say I don’t remember my last name. When I was six years old my mother and father were kidnapped and killed by a group of bandits. I remember only a little bit of that night. They lit our village on fire as they spilled havoc across the land. I am unsure how I survived the disaster, but I was found by a man known as Marcurio Lachance. Marcurio is the leader of a league of assassins. A guild known as the Shadow Brotherhood. A guild of which I have been a part of ever since that night.

Marcurio took me away to our sanctuary. The place I now call home. It is hidden within the mountains that stretch so high you can see every village for miles. The sanctuary is where Marcurio raised me and taught me the ways of the League. The Shadow Brotherhood is not evil. We may be assassins, but we do not title ourselves as murderers. Our ways are different from those given the name
of murderer. The brotherhood does not kill through hatred or by our own concern. We kill those who the people believe should be executed. Some may call it a sin, but we like to call it justice. We receive letters that we call black letters occasionally. These letters are written usually anonymously. They include the name of the person they wish to be executed, the reason of execution, and any extra information that is of use to us. We call these educated writers “the people”. Most of those who write to us are very wealthy in both currency and power. I know this because not only can they read and write, but give a very satisfying reward for completing the execution.

I have completed and confirmed the execution of every person I have been assigned. Each one a villain in their own devilish way. Mostly murderers and thieves. What makes de Lucceio any different? He is the leader of an organization of marauders that have been causing destruction in many villages. We have received many contracts the past month about this guilty soul and we have finally came to his name on the list. I have been studying his schedule and following his shadow for the past four days. As it was stated in the letter, his leadership is secret to the public. I would keep my leadership secret too if I was behind all the murders and tragic disasters he is supposedly responsible for. Nonetheless, he is a contract and must be executed.

It is the fourth night I have been following de Lucceio. I am positioned on a tree branch located right outside de Lucceio’s bedroom window. My black light armor helps to blend with the darkness. I wear a hood and mask over my face, only to reveal the shine in my light blue eyes. I slowly arm the long bow once again as I see de Lucceiocreep back into his bed. I shut my eyes and take in a deep breath. I pull up my bow and carefully pull back the arrow. I open my eyes to steady my aim. Carefully aiming to impale his cold heart. I release the arrow. It soars through the window, and pierces through Corbett de Lucceio’s chest. I can see the helpless look in the man’s eyes right as they flash open. He struggles to breath as blood runs down his body and onto his bed. I waited until the rise and fall of the man’s chest was seized by death itself. In declaration of his execution I whisper, “Kill confirmed.”