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

The king needed to die. 
 
 This, of course, there was no debate about. As it stood, there was no other way to free the magic. And I needed to feel it for myself. I needed to know that my grandmother ’ s stories were real. *The tales of a better world, a brighter world could be real again*, she would say, *if only the magic would return. * 
 
 She told me about how the night sky would light up with millions of dots, far above the pale white haze. *Like a pattern in the quilt, * she would say, *just a whole lot prettier. * She talked of a world without the haze at all. A world where you could see the trees- just by themselves. *They were green little one, * she told me, *and they ’ d change color with the seasons. So many reds, and orange and brown…* There were so many things that day that I hadn ’ t understood. How could trees change color? Weren ’ t they supposed to be a pale yellow, with leaves glowing in the haze? Didn ’ t they make the haze itself? I tried to imagine such a time, but I couldn ’ t. Green was a weird color to try to look up to. 
 
 And about the haze itself, she told me there wasn ’ t any. You could see across whole valleys and actually see the mountains. You used be able to run across fields without the fear zapped if you got too close. *You could actually climb those mountains if you wanted to! * Most importantly, she told me, you could leave if you wanted to. 
 
 So of course the king needed to die. Everyone knew he held the magic hostage. The only real question had been how. 
 
 And recently, we got to know it was bound to him. Physically bound to his soul. Kill the king and kill the link. It was that simple. 
 
 Naturally, I volunteered. 
 
 “ Only it ’ s not that simple, ” Renne, one of the rebellion leaders was saying, as we went over the plan for the millionth time. 
 
 “ We can get her in, and we can get her close, ” said David. He was coming too, in case I needed a distraction. I could use a quick retreat in case things didn ’ t go as planned. 
 
 “ Besides, she doesn ’ t look a day over 12, biology be damned! ” he continued, “ The king would definitely stop to talk to her. There hasn ’ t been a single Remembrance Day parade yet where he hasn ’ t picked a kid to bless. ” 
 
 “ You just make sure that no one from the crowd intervenes, ” I said, looking at Renne, “ I ’ ll take care of the rest. ” 
 
 “ The guards? ” 
 
 “ Threatened and paid for. ” 
 
 “ So we ’ re sure they won ’ t be a problem? ” 
 
 “ Yes ” 
 
 “ The king ’ s a great swordsman too. ” 
 
 “ Not as good as Shannon. ” 
 
 The conversation went on like that for a while - back and forth until the Rebellion ran out of things they could possibly plan for. I smiled, and nodded, trying to actually feel as confident as the face I was putting on. 
 
 It was hard, though. Months of preparation came would finally come down to me tomorrow. And usually, there isn ’ t a cause for worry. I ’ m the best swordsperson in the Rebellion by far. I ’ ve been to the most missions, I ’ ve brought the most goods. But all of that had been with my own sword. 
 
 Due to all the power in his possession, the king was practically immortal. He didn ’ t age, and can only be killed by his own sword. A sword that I didn ’ t know too well. 
 
 A sword, that, in all his 40 years of rule, hadn ’ t yet lost a battle for him. 

