• “You have failed, Kaitin. You bring failure, not blood. Do you know what this means?”
    Kaitin stood before the council of assassins. True, he had failed to kill the guard captain, but he was poorly equipped, and as all assassins know, the council supplied the equipment.
    “If I may,” Kaitin said. He waited for a sign from the council before he spoke. In this kind of position, it was best not to anger the council.
    The woman in the red robe responded. “Speak quickly.”
    “I was sent into battle with just a rusty dagger. How do you expect me to kill him with that?”
    This time, a bald man replied. “A good assassin kills with good equipment. A master assassin kills with no equipment. You are lucky we gave you anything at all.”
    The woman chimed in. “We are not looking for good assassins. We are looking for master assassins.”
    Kaitin knew what was coming next. He bowed his head in shame and waited for the inevitable. I’ve given the council seven years of assassination, and this is how they repay me? I know who will give the order. It’s going to be Jart.
    The man sitting at the head of the table looked very pleased. “As the leader of The Council of Assassins, I would like to suggest that we hang the b*****d.”
    “Jart, isn’t that a bit harsh? Shouldn’t we strip him of his title and throw him out in the streets?” The robed woman said. Kaitin was surprised. Streya had never cared for him, so why was she arguing on his behalf?
    Jart replied in an almost angry tone. “What if he decides to tell someone about the council? We could be facing a war here!” He turned to Kaitin. “You are sentenced to be hanged tomorrow, at noon. Dismissed.”