The Lilly on the Lake

Peter moved swiftly and silently through the dark corridors of the palace, his hand clenched tightly around his dagger. He paused suddenly, holding his breath. Footsteps. He quickly ducked around a nearby corner, hugging the wall as two imperial guards passed. The threatening yellow glow of their lamps soon faded as the guards continued on their way, blissfully unaware of the man cloaked in shadow, a man who craved the death of their leader like a shark craves blood.

With the guards gone, one of the last of his many obstacles had finally melted away, and Peter continued his swift pursuit of the Emperor. Finally, he thought to himself, after all these years, the scum will die by my hand.

The emperor was a tyrant, by far more feared than loved by his people. For a man with so much power, he was almost never seen. There were even rumors that he had transcended the need for a physical body, that he ruled through force of divinity. But the emperor had a very real hand, and Peter had personally felt the pain of its devastating blow.

Years ago, as an orphan youth, Peter met a girl by the name of Kiara. She was the only well-to-do person who didn’t treat Peter like dirt, and for that he was always grateful. The two were very perceptive for their age. They had picked up on the pain others were going through as they struggled to live their lives under the yoke of the emperor. They could sense the palpable aura of dejection, fear and despair that permeated the air, though they may not have understood all the reasons why it was there.

“It won’t be like this forever, you know,” she had said one day.

“How do you know that?” he had asked.

“Because someone’s going to change it all. Someone’s going to bring a better life to our people. Someone’s going to turn all their pain and hurt into joy.”

“But grownups must have been trying for years,” he had responded. “What makes you think things will be different in the future? Who will be the ones to bring that happiness?”

“We will,” she had said, smiling broadly.

For a time, it was as if Peter had found a bright ray of light in a world drowning in darkness, a sense of purpose where before there had only been a desire for survival.

Then, one day, that light was brutally snuffed out. Peter remembered the anguish he felt when, while heading over to her home to visit her, he came upon the horrifying sight of her and her family restrained by soldiers at the edge of the nearby lake. A nearby soldier had grabbed Peter roughly by the hair and forced him to watch as Kiara and her family were forced beneath the surface of the lake, their bodies thrashing violently beneath the churning waters. Peter looked on in horror as Kiara’s struggle grew more and more feeble, until her writhing finally ceased. The parents’ movements ceased soon after, their bodies floating like pale lilies along the lake’s surface, pallid and lifeless vessels of what had once been springs of vigorous hope. “This is what happens to traitors,” the soldier had said. “Don’t you forget it.”

He didn’t. Ever since that moment, Peter had been preparing himself to one day kill the man responsible for Kiara’s death. He followed the many discontented whispers throughout the empire until he discovered Nightwind, a shadowy organization bent on destroying the empire. After joining the organization, he trained vigorously, honing his physical and mental abilities. When he was ready, he began to play his role in Nightwind’s intricate plot to undermine the empire.

Over the years, Nightwind had developed relationships with the neighboring Farveldt Kingdom, as well as the Imperial General Wilhelm, an ambitious man with designs on the throne. Their plan was to instigate a coup through the death of the emperor, allowing general Wilhelm to fill the vacuum. Once crowned Emperor, the general would serve as a vassal to Farveldt.

Peter had only met general Wilhelm once, in a secret bar at the edge of the imperial capital. The pungent odor of the clouds of smoke had wafted through the dimly lit bar as the general sat chuckling, two hostesses at his side, drinking heavily. As the general boasted about what he would do with his newly acquired riches, Peter looked on calmly, steadily observing the man who would become the nominal ruler of his homeland. It seemed clear that the elements of corruption in the halls of power would not be so easily wiped away. But he had learned to face the realities of the world long ago. For him, the death of the Emperor was paramount, and he would do whatever it took to achieve that aim. With this determination and the assistance of Nightwind, Peter was eventually able to infiltrate the palace disguised as a stable boy, hired by one of the emperor’s most experienced stable-hands, who was secretly in Nightwind’s employ. A network of servants placed within the castle kept Nightwind informed of the Emperor’s potential movements and the layout of the castle. Now, the weight of the entire operation rested on Peter’s ability to assassinate the emperor.

Peter reached the corridor leading to the Emperor’s room. A shrill, piercing whistle echoed through the courtyard. There’s the distraction, thought Peter. While the bulk of the palace guards attempted to trace the source of the noise, he would make his move.

Peter watched silently as most of guards rushed to respond to the clamor. Once they had travelled far enough away, he silently inched closer to the remaining two guards. From the shadows, he drew his blowgun from his back and shot two tranquilizing darts at the door guards. The guards slumped to the ground, their crimson robes crumpled in a heap. Peter then silently slipped into the Emperor’s chamber.

The room was dark, the soft white light of the moon casting ornate shadows of the room’s decor. As Peter slowly approached the sleeping emperor, a wave of heat welled up within him, coursing throughout his body. It was as if every breath he took was a breath of fire, kindling his smoldering rage into an intense blaze. He reached the bed. As he raised his arm, the images of the scene of Kiara’s death flashed through his mind. Their desperate screams. Their violently writhing bodies. His sense of complete helplessness. He took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to cry out, directing all of his rage to gather into his arm, into his hand, into the tip of his blade. Then, he plunged the icy steel into the emperor’s throat.

As the emperor lay dying, his hands clasped around his throat, Peter took a few deep breaths to compose himself. I need to move quickly, he thought to himself. The guards won’t be distracted for much longer. He rushed across the room, leaping deftly through one of the windows onto the roof. He slid down to the edge of the roof, grasping it with his hands and swinging onto a lower ledge before leaping nimbly to the ground. He sprinted across the palace courtyard, toward the section of the wall where he was to make his exit. Peter heard alarm bells clanging throughout the palace as the guards raised the alarm. The emperor’s body must have been discovered he thought, glancing quickly at the palace. After reaching the palace walls, he began climbing. Almost there, he thought to himself.

Suddenly, he heard the ominous whistle howling shrilly in the night. It was the unmistakable sound of an arrow flying toward him. A sharp pain shot through his left shoulder. He let go and fell to the ground. A steady rhythm of footsteps trampled the ground as guards rushed around him.

“Get him on his knees,” one of them said.

As Peter was lifted from the ground, a guard approached him, unsheathing his sword and raising it above his head. Looks like this is it for me, he thought to himself, as the guard brought down his blade.

“Wait!” A voice cried out in the distance. “The vizier needs to speak with him.” After glancing at each other a moment, the guards lifted Peter to his feet and brought him into the palace.

As they passed the ornate pillars of the cavernous throne room, Peter fixed his eyes on the man standing beside the throne. He was puzzled to see that the man’s countenance bore no sign of smugness or rage, but in fact betrayed a hint of fear. The vizier’s mouth was drawn in a tight line, his brow furled. In his hand he was clutching a letter. The guards stopped at the foot of the throne.

The men stood in tense silence for a moment, as Peter continued to try to make sense of the situation. Eventually the throne room’s doors were thrown open with a loud echo. A man rushed frantically toward the vizier clutching a blood-stained bag in his hand. The vizier’s expression darkened. He motioned for the man to hand the bag over. He opened it, glanced at its contents, and winced. Then, he turned to face Peter.

“In this bag is the head of general Wilhelm,” said the vizier. So they uncovered the plot, Peter thought to himself. Then the vizier held up the note.

“This is a note that the palace guard just received. It describes the purpose of the Nightwind organization and claims responsibility for the assassination of both the Emperor and general Wilhelm.

Both the Emperor and the general? If true, this would fly in the face of the entire plan.

“I’m just as shocked by this development as you are,” said the vizier. “In fact, these two men weren’t the only ones to die tonight. The entire royal lineage has of course been eliminated, but so too have all of Farveldt’s conspirators within the court. You see, we heard whispers of a conspiracy to overthrow the kingdom and even obtained the names of the conspirators. So we too hired assassins to wipe out our enemies. Little did we know that those assassins also belonged to your organization.” The vizier paused for a moment. “I can only imagine,” he continued, “that the true aim of this plot was not to simply eliminate the royal family, but was in fact meant to create a situation in which the empire must face a devastating war, greatly increasing its chance of destruction. Now, more than ever, what the empire needs is a leader.”

Then, the vizier did something completely unexpected, bending in a full bow before Peter. “I would humbly ask that you assume the throne. Your organization’s leadership is shrouded in mystery, and I doubt they want to stand prominent in the public’s awareness. But forceful assassinations of the empire’s rulers are not uncommon in the history of our land. If you were to step forward as the rightful leader by virtue of the power you exhibited in slaying the emperor, you would be able to steer this country to the future you must have envisioned with the downfall of the emperor. Naturally, as vizier, I could give you counsel on matters of state, helping to guide your hand.”

“So you need a figurehead, to help you rule while being able to distance yourself from potential calamity should your efforts at saving the empire from collapse end in failure,” replied Peter. “But you see, what drove me to kill the emperor was more than simply a desire to see things change. I killed the emperor because he was a vile human being with little regard for human life, and he was a man who took someone precious away from me. So you see, my aspiration in killing the emperor was simply to see the emperor die. I have no interest in becoming involved in your schemes.”

“Then will you at least consider passing my entreaty on to some of the leaders in your organization?” asked the vizier. “Surely one of them might have grander ambitions, one of them could be persuaded to aid the empire’s salvation from a position of strength. If the request is passed on by you, they will trust the information.”

So this is one of the reasons he’s keeping me alive, thought Peter. Looking up at the vizier, he replied: “I’ll consider it. If they accept, you’ll soon receive word.”

“Thank you,” replied the vizier. “Let us treat your wound before you depart.” After having his injury bandaged, Peter took his leave, then turned and left the throne room.

Exiting the palace, Peter entered the streets of the surrounding capital. As he walked, he closed is eyes and allowed the cool night breeze to envelop him. His body was heavy with exhaustion, the wound on his shoulder still throbbing with pain. As he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on an old woman, weary from a day of toil. Her walking stick clacked sharply against the road as she wandering the streets collecting the refuse of the day. As he watched her, the voice of Kiara echoed in his mind. Someone’s going to bring a better life to our people. Someone is going to turn all their pain and hurt into joy. Now that the Emperor was gone, were they any closer to that goal? Sure, the tyrant had fallen, but in his wake were left the seeds of ruin. Could the people withstand a war? And would things be any brighter on the other side of it?

As Peter passed the old woman, something drove him to stop. Her face, he thought to himself. It looked familiar…where have I seen her before?” He turned around to face the old woman—and found that she was staring right back at him, her eyes full of sorrow. He noticed that her skin was healthier than it had appeared at a distance...and her posture had changed significantly. A disguise?

Wait a moment, he thought to himself, his eyes widening. I recognize her! She’s!—

The woman grabbed Peter by the shoulder and drew him to her as she shoved a blade through his chest. “Kiara…” he said softly, his eyes wide with shock. “You’re…alive….”

Hot tears began to stream down his face. A sea of emotions cascaded through him. Waves of joy, of sorrow, of wonder, of pain, all at once. “You…were dead…how…”

“I had to make them think I was dead,” she said, her voice cracking, tears flowing down her face. “When I stopped moving, they didn’t think to check twice. They’ve assumed I was dead ever since,” she said. “And it has to stay that way. You’re the last person left alive who even remembers what I look like.” She began to sob. “I’m so sorry Peter”

As Peter sank to the ground, with Kiara cradling him in her arms, he pondered what she’d just said. He recalled the image of the floating bodies in the lake, how Kiara’s body had floated face-down, while her parents’ bodies had been turned face-up. The soldiers had likely assumed that a little girl could not possibly hold her breath longer than her parents. They had failed to take into consideration the grief her parents must have gone through when they noticed limp body of their child floating right beside them in their desperate struggle. Faced with the death of their child right beside them, they had likely given up fighting for their life, succumbing to the depths.

“After that day,” continued Kiara, “I realized that our nation was a fallen nation. That any attempt to do good in the existing structure would be quashed. Our rulers accepted the commoners’ plight as a matter of necessity, and any attempt to improve their ability to think and play a greater role in their destiny represented a threat to the Imperial order. I joined Nightwind, transforming it from a mercenary band of contract killers to an organization with the goal of forever toppling the existing order. I had faith that, with the tyranny of the emperor fresh in their minds and the specter of a looming crisis, the people would rally around a more just leader who would be able to rally our people. And, if that leader was nowhere to be found and our nation crumbled, the memory of our people’s suffering would live on, and one day the right person would step up to rebuild our crushed society, steering it in the direction of justice.”

“Ah,” Paul said softly, as he felt his body grow colder and colder. “Justice.” His breathing began to slow. “Do you remember,” he said softly, “when you told me why you were sure that our people would be lifted from suffering?”

Kiara nodded, the tears continuing to pour down her face.

“It’s strange, how our visions of changing the world drifted from each other. For you, the light remained out there, in the world, waiting to be awakened. But for me, you were it. It is lamentable that this is how we’ve been reunited. Yet I still find solace in how fate has linked us.” He took a few final, shallow breaths. “Strange…isn’t it…”

Paul drew his last breath, then lay still. Kiara shook her head, tears streaming down her face, hoping that somehow, when she met her end, she would find him again, this time bearing witness to a better world.