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Streaming through the windows of a small brick building, the morning sun dries the ink on thirty crisp parchments. Children sit in rows. Some are attentive, some gaze out into nothingness, whilst others whisper tales behind their hands. Their writing is uneven, messy, and hurried, but they seem content. Striding to and fro before them is a slender young man, a teacher of numbers, who instructs them in how to count, bargain and save their coppers - a valuable lesson for the urchins who have had to learn to rely on themselves. This man provides his classes for free, to all those who would learn. And there are many: this is but one class amongst numerous he will see today. Perhaps this work takes its toll on him - there is a dark rim beneath his eyes, and he clearly has slept very little - but the fluidity with which he moves about the classroom suggests that he is barely affected by this, as though he is a regular creature of the night. Posing a question now, he stops moving, to cock an ear.

While the students struggle with the numbers, he suddenly thinks back to his own youth, a time in his life that he had suppressed for so long. He remembers faintly the night he killed his deranged drunkard father: that was his first assassination. Shortly after, he fled the kingdom of Maluria with his mother. She did not make it to Llaranastra alive: he told the travelling party that the cold smothered her, but really, it had been his fault. In a moment of weakness, he had confided in her about his patricide. The shock and horror had bitten right through her pure heart.

A shout comes from the doorway, bringing him back to the present. Thirty-one heads turn in unison.

Silhouetted against a blazing light stands a man dressed entirely in white armour. Something glimmers in his hand.

"For the Light!" he shouts, making a circular gesture with his hand. Within seconds, he is upon the young teacher.

The teacher dodges the first strike of the intruders weapon, a vicious downwards sweep that would have cleaved him in half. Children are screaming. Involuntarily, his eyes dart to the children, his mouth opening to shout that they flee. The intruder presses forwards with the pommel of his weapon. The teacher spins away just in time. His leg buckles beneath him. In that instant, he is beheaded.



Many will mourn the passing of this teacher, but most will forget him. They never truly knew him, and he had no friends, no family.

Such is the life and death of an Assassin, after all.

Fate

flinter

Hinduragi

kiwieagle

Mist Beauty

Oversoul

PeregrineV

Riceballtail

[L-4]

Shadow Dancer

Not Voting (7): kiwieagle, Mist Beauty, Oversoul, Riceballtail, Shadow Dancer, Hinduragi, flinter

With 9 alive, it is 5 to lynch

10:30pm GMT, 3rd November 2011

Vote: Flinter

Vote: Peregrinev

Vote: PeregrineV