[ WP ] You have been assigned to assassinate the king . However , he can only be killed by his own sword .

Contract killings have been my specialty for some time now. There's just something about the subtlety of executing without being seen, the unique challenge that accompanies each target. Yes yes, some are quite simple: a dab of poison here or an arrow shot from a secluded location, but every so often, a challenge arises that requires specific skills and, best yet, has no deadline. 
 My magnum opus began in the Spring of 1900 with the usual beckoning, a crate on my stoop filled with, what would appear to the common eye, apples. I dug through the top layer and about half way down finally found the payment- layers upon layers of gold, much more than usual. As I counted the gold bricks, my mind wandered... Who could want someone dead this badly? Was it a scorned lover? An petulant child seeking an early inheritance? My question would never be answered, but the target would be... I was to assassinate the King. 
 Now, most assassins would scoff at this task. Rate of success is practically non-existent and the risk of failure is certain death. I was, however, not a normal assassin have never turned down task. I set to work, mining information on his daily routine. I snuck into the castle under the guise as a servant and it quickly became apparent just how difficult this task would be. The king has all of his food taste tested before hand, and he has a personal guard even when he shits. No, this task requires more thought, more cunning and much more subtlety that any of my priors. The only weakness I could find was his habit of bedding his servants female family members. It was here that I struck. 
 Finding a concubine is not too difficult, the challenging part if sprucing one to the king's standards. I took Mary in off the streets, provided her with food, drink, and clothing. She knew the basics of what was in store and she relished the thought of being `` loved'' by the king, if only for one night, and it helped my plight in that she was easy on the eyes. 
 After a few days of grooming and teaching decorum, I shipped Mary to the king under the guise of winning favor. He took Mary in without hesitation. One night, I told myself, the King's sword, his own prick, will be his undoing. Mary emerged the next day chipper than ever. She was given her sum in gold and eventually moved to America of all places. 
 As for myself, the job was finished. Sure, the bastard may not be dead yet, but he soon will be. One year later, the queen -God bless her soul- passed and the king followed 9 years later. The tabloids declared the death complications from an ulcer, but I knew the truth. Not many escape the wrath of typhoid fever. 

