When the world is held in a single room and Death walks the land, the child of the chaste shall arise to strike down the evil seeking to devour the world.
The assassin sat crouched near the corner of the gate marking the Archbishop's manor. He had been waiting there all day: no food, no rest. His muscles ached from his endless vigil. Such was the price of his craft. He didn't mind. He would do anything asked of him if it pleased the master. Even so, the hours seemed to stretch into oblivion. It wouldn't be too much longer though. Even as he watched, the guard was beginning to nod off. It would've been much easier to just kill the guard and enter, but for this mission to be successful he must remain hidden for at least a little while. A body would…complicate things. Eventually, the guard was snoring softly, and the assassin made his move. He leaped the gate and crossed the front yard quickly. The glow of twilight allowed him to see where he was going while simultaneously masking his progress. He passed the guard and a hint of amusement crossed his face. Apparently the years of peace had dulled the Holy Guards' edge. They were no longer the feared warriors of old. The assassin turned back toward the ornate entryway of the palace. It didn't even have a lock, symbolizing the Clergyman's trust of the people. Foolish old man. He will know the error of his ways before the night ends.
The doors opened silently, a testament to the builder's skill. The halls were completely still. No servants, holy men, or watchmen broke the silence. Truly the defenses had become slack with disuse. The assassin passed through many doors and halls, moving with the certainty of someone with incredibly accurate reconnaissance. It was only a matter of minutes before he arrived at the Archbishop's room. He readjusted his vizard, checking that his face was still covered and his identity hidden. He slowly opened the door and peered inside.
The Archbishop was still awake, going over work even at this late hour. He was shuffling papers around, occasionally stopping to scrawl his name on a proposal of some sort. He pushed up his glasses as he looked up towards the door.
"Well, come on in." The archbishop rumbled in a deep voice. "Don't just stand there in the door like a lost child looking for his mother. Surely you have some business here other than admiring my beauty." The assassin twitched, momentarily startled by his discovery. He quickly composed himself and walked calmly into the room.
"Archbishop Elias, I have come on behalf of my master. He wishes you to be…removed from the picture." The assassin spoke in a smooth voice matching his flowing movements.
"Surely your master would have a name? Bah, I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm getting too old for this job anyway. I've not the power I once had. Pity though, that I won't get to experience retirement. You wouldn't be interested in coming back a few years from now, would you?" The assassin moved behind the clergyman's chair, pulling a long dagger from it's sheath.
"My master does indeed have a name, but dead men need not know it. As for the rest, our plans don't account for your retirement. So in response to your request for a rain-check, not on your life." The assassin emitted a short laugh at the irony as he plunged the dagger into Elias's chest. Elias slumped over the desk as the assassin removed his blade and wiped it on the back of the Archbishop's robes. He turned to the window and slipped out into the darkness. It would be a long trip back to the master, and his report of success couldn't wait. The plan had been set into motion and the consequences irreversible. Let the pieces fall where they may.