Alright guys, there are fifteen positions in this RP which shows the silent battle between fifteen princes over the throne. Assassinations, politics, poison, murder and mystery abound. You know the rules. Kill or be Killed.
It only took one second for the dagger to strike the Emperor in the throat. It took another four for him to fall to the floor. He spent the next seven seconds, dying, blood gurgling in his throat. Twelve Seconds in all. That was how long it took to kill the most guarded person in the world. Easy for a person of his caliber. Twelve Seconds. As the shouts and screams wafted into the skies, now dawning, stained with a bloody red, the assassin rose gracefully, and jumped into the night. The next day, there was a funeral, held on a sunny, slightly clouded morning, the dead man's body not even shown, his grotesque image too horrifying. The black-clad mourners stood in silence, and the priests read proclamations of sorrow, but, observant reader, take note of this; no one was crying.
The boy opened the door quietly, the polished wood giving way as he pushed it with two outstretched fingers. The small creak alerted the bent form of his mother to his presence. She raised herself with a prideful gaze and graceful demeanor, her dress sweeping over the floor as she stood. He knew better.
"Child. You know what's going to happen next. The family of the Emperor has always done this. Your father never chose an heir before he died. There are sixteen of you, and you are only the third son, of his fifth wife. If you are not Emperor, where will you be? Sent to die on the Continent? I think not. You know the rules. Kill or be killed." Her voice was a condemnation, though he knew this would happen. He clenched his fist as he turned and stalked out of the room like an angry cat. His head turned once as he left. Only once.
"I don't need you to remind me, mother. This game has already started." He said the words stiffly, with decorum and pride. It was twelve seconds later that the yells informed the palace that the first son had died in his sleep the night before, poisoned in his ear. A somewhat ironic way to die for the posturing idiot who knew only how to recite pointless plays. The game had already begun. They knew the rules. This game had been played among the families of royalty for years now. Kill or be Killed.
