"The perfect as sas sin has no ties. He does not love, he does not feel guilt for the blood he spills across his blade. Life is nothing, life is worthless. The perfect as sas sin is an icon of Death" ~ Perfecting The Art, Volume One, Chapter One, Pa ssage Two.

So many times, those words were spoken by my teacher. It is a pa ssage that all young as sas sins were made to repeat until their mouths were dry. Other had fallen prey to their emotions, but not I. I knew I would one day be perfect. The one who was always called upon for jobs, a coveted member of my guild. it took me ten years to get to the top, to the position I had dreamed of getting to - an all consuming ambition fueled by each life I took. Finally, I was recognised to be the best, and I took on a mission that would be the beginning of my end.

It was the month of December that I was called upon, and I can remember standing in front of The Eleven as clearly as my first kill. The same adrenaline rushed through my body like liquid fire, setting me on an excited edge with energy that begged to be spent. To be before the eleven best as sas sins that lived was a privilige and honour that very few lived to experience. I knew that the job they would as sign me would be of the utmost importance. The murder of a rival, something that I would become famous for completing. I was at that point eyeing a particularly decrepit looking as sas sin, to the left of the leader. I decided at that moment that I, Victor James Hellphyre, would after this mission be a part of The Eleven. Looking back, I know now that I wouldn't have stopped there in my search for ultimate infamy and power; I was far too ambitious for that...

"Victor J. Hellphyre. You have come before the council of the eleven due to your outstanding skills in the arts of as sas sination. You have successfully completed every mission that has ever been as signed to you, and now, we call upon you to complete a reconnaissance job." Those very last words unearthed an anger in me that I had never felt before. My excitement transformed into undeniable disappointment that clawed at my stomach with sharpened talons. Perhaps the disbelief was evident upon my face, because the wrinkled mess I had eyed for death earlier cast me a smirk that suggested he knew exactly my intentions. A Recon misson for their best as sas sin? I was incredulous to say the very least. This, I was sure, I could stroll through. The details were of little importance to me; my mind wandered elsewhere, as I feigned an ex
pression of rapt attention.

"You will be watching the Princess Sonea. For three months, you will document her every move, track her schedule, monitor and log her daily routine, until you can find nothing more about her that will be useful to us. When you report back, we shall view your work, and possibly consider you for a higher position." He paused. "If you do well enough." I looked into the face of the *censored**censored*in who spoke to me, a smirk curling my lips. "No problem." I turned my back, and strolled leisurely out of the great hall, his last and final warning falling upon deaf ears.
"Be careful, and guard your emotions..."

My room was of average standard. The walls were made of cold stone, a single window of dirt-smeared and thin gl*censored* seperating the inside of the square box and the elements of the outside world. A world that begged for my expertise, my courage, my shadow-silent steps with the promise of an early death. I pulled on a grey and black mottled cloak, my weapons harness secured safely around my torso. The list I had compiled lay next to the several gl*censored* vials and flasks in which I had created my poisons. Four throwing daggers, one katana sword, ten 'knockout needles', one shortsword, and two smaller daggers, tipped with a deadly poison that I myself and concocted. The cloak around my shoulders bore the emblem of my guild on the inside, three swords behind a shield. A single blood red rose graced the centre. The three swords marked my advancement in training; only the eleven had four swords on their emblems. It was a tradition that had died a hundred years after the guild was founded, that every victim would be left lying face-down, a rose between their shoulderblades. That was a time when the *censored**censored*ins could risk being public about their kills. Nowadays, it was harder to get around the increase in the city guard. I picked up my mission scroll from my bed, and studied it's contents. A full map of the palace, complete with secret tunnels and entrances, as well as windows, heights of the towers and different sections, and escape routes in case of attack. I rolled the parchment into the palm of my hand, and slid it inside my cloak pocket, turning around and leaving. Little did I know that it would be the last view I would ever get of that room.

Getting into the palace walls bore no challenge for a practised light footer such as myself. (That was our term for the silent way we were taught to step during missions where keeping hidden was of the utmost importance. It meant the *censored**censored*in had to walk heel down first, lowering the rest of his sole to the ground afterward. This ensured a step that left little or no sound to alert anyone to his presence.) I leaped nimbly over the side of the castle wall, using misplaced bricks as my hand and footholds. Rain cascaded down upon my shoulders, drenching me through to the bone with the freezing reminder that Winter still gripped the city in it's icy claws. It made climbing the tower that belonged to the princess a little more dangerous than I had first anticipated; the rainwater made my ascent a slippery and dangerous one. It was after accomplishing this feat, and a number of minutes waiting crouched on the bricks that jutted out beneath her window, that I first caught a glance of her as she readied for bed. The young woman floated across my field of vision much alike to a swan gliding across water, it's feathers of snow almost glowing with innocence and beauty. Her hair was long, and as if someone had spun her locks of gold. Such beauty, such magnificence in appearance I had seen never before. In my heart I knew that from then on, I had been captured by my emotions, bound by infatuation that had come for it's revenge after being denied so many times. I wanted to complete this job, and yet, deep within my soul, I knew I had to stop, or watch everything I had worked for be destroyed. I did not listen to the latter reasoning, and I let my stupidity, my pride, my greed to be worshipped, take over.