May 9, 1812
A small grey mouse scampered across the dusty, old and wooden floor. The room itself was dark, save the light emanating from an oil lamp in the middle of the room. It rested upon an old wooden table, the yellow hue almost giving it a foreign color all together. Sitting around this lamp were two men, both with a fair complexion.
One of them had short brown hair that was pressed backwards which matched his pair of light hazel eyes. He had quite the slender build to him and wore a brown hide jacket with a white under shirt. He had no cuffs on for his wrists, as was the style in Britain at the time, as he was not at some formal event. His eyes had bags under them, from lack of many days of sleep. His worked hands were clasped within each other upon the table.
The other man present at the table was much younger than his companion. His hair was long, black and tied up with a white ribbon. His eyes were an almost electric blue. He was wearing a white robe, which had a hood to it. He was currently not wearing the hood, however. The robe had consistent whiteness to it up to the belt which was red, and his cuffs which were also a deep hue of red. Around his neck beneath the robe was a red scarf.
"John. You cannot go through with this assassination. We do not have enough information. We do not have any allies. You will die John. What of your family? What of your lady?" The blue eyed individual asked with a hushed tone. Though quiet, his tone had a sternness to it.
"Robert, after all these years you honestly think you can sway my decisions? I've taken you into my home stead after your father was executed and I've provided for you well, despite the obvious dangers. I've taught you how to follow in your father's foot steps, despite your own reluctance. After all this, I simply ask you to trust me. I knew what I was doing when I brought you in and I knew what I was doing when I trained you." John said in response, tapping his index finger on the table to the effect of making his point clear.
Robert frowned and looked down at the yellowed table. He then looked up again to the saddened face of the man. "I was always grateful for what you've done for me John. I just don't want you to give yourself up and to kill a possibly innocent man -"
John reached into his pocket and slammed something down on the table. It made a small clicking sound against the table as it made contact. When John removed his hand, Robert saw the figure of a ring under the light of the lantern. Robert picked it up to get a better look and his eyes narrowed when he saw the blood colored cross atop the ring.
"It can't be. The Prime Minister...he..." Robert said, shaking his head in disbelief. John snorted as he picked the ring out of Robert's hand, then held it between his own index finger and thumb.
"How did you get it, John?" Robert asked, his tone growing far more concerned than anything else. He needed to be one hundred percent sure if he was to let his friend go on a suicide mission.
"I stole it many years ago from his belongings. Before he was prime minister, he was just an errand boy for the Templar order. It was the Templar's the built up his family, his reputation and appointed him Prime Minister. The only way to end him and rally the people of Britain is to hold a public killing." John explained silently as he grasped the ring tightly in his hand.
"I can't believe it. He did not push to limit our liberties. The other Templars did such terrible things. I've spoken to him myself, I've aided his damn cause!" Robert snarled as he stood out of his chair and slammed his hands down on the tables. John sighed and ran a hand through his own thinning hair.
"I know, though it was out of your power to know whether he was a Templar or not. Everything is True, Nothing is Permitted. You forgot that one tenant of our Order. You are still young Robert, and even your father made misplaced judgements. Though what I cannot abide by is letting him stay in power. He is after something, and I don't know what it is...but rest assured he will NOT have it." John said as he placed the ring back down on the table.
Robert sighed and sat back down, resting his head in his hands. "We must plan. We can plan, and you won't have to die. What happened to being sneaky? What happened to having subterfuge? Why throw aside all your training and -"
"We have NO time boy! No time at ALL! By the time we figure out all we need to plan an attack, he will be putting his plans into action! He must die NOW! He must not draw another BREATH by the end of this week! This man does the work of the devil, and pushes to take liberties, whether he does it in open view or not!" John snapped at Robert, making him slink into his chair slightly.
It was clear that the man could not be persuaded against this course of action. Part of Robert wanted to knock him out and tie him up. Though he loved John like a father, a brother and considered him among the most trust worthy of men. Where most men would smile and stab you in the back, he would never place others before himself. Whether it meant giving up his liberties in Russia, or whether it meant his own sacrifice would save many from oppression. Robert admired him so greatly, that he felt no power in convicting him off his desire to murder the Templar Spencer Perceval.
"I won't say you have my blessing as an Assassin of the Order, but you have my blessing as your friend John..." Robert said calmly as he reached out his hand for his mentor to shake. John let a small smile spread on his face as he reached out and took his disciple's hand.
"I've taught you everything I could have, Robert. Know that you have helped breath new life into this order. King Charles shall soon be no more, and these corrupt men will learn the place of liberty. Nothing is true. Everything is permitted." John said with a nod of his head, releasing his hand from Roberts. He stood and walked towards the door.
"John. What shall I tell them? You've never told them what a hero you were. All they thought of you was a simple man." Robert said as he too stood up.
John reached for the door handle, hesitating for a split second. He thought for a moment and turned to Robert. "Tell them I'm a crazy old man that wanted nothing more than to show the world that even men in power can bleed." he said with a smile as he opened the door, and made his way out.
//
~May 11, 1812~
Standing in the lobby of the House of Commons was John Bellingham, knowing full well whom was going to step into it at any moment. His hazel eyes gazed at the door way as he paced back and forth, his hands behind him, holding onto one another. He was wearing his white cuffs on his wrists now and he could feel the musket against his chest within the newly tailored pocket within his coat. Did he have regrets? Was he having second thoughts? There was no sense in those now. He needed to show the people in it that men in power, no matter how high up, still could be reached. He wanted to show everyone that when a man tries to oppress them and limit their influence on their own lives, they can be held accountable. Courts were folly, and so were the judges presiding over them. They rarely served justice and that was why he was here.
John heard Spencer before he saw him. He was speaking of the proceedings that would come if not a few moments later. Everything seemed to go much slower when the prime minister stepped into the lobby. Such a man who was willing to throw away the principles of equality and liberty did not deserve to even sit in the lobby, let alone hold the voice of the people. This was where it all ended. This was where he earned his place among those who fought injustice.
His hand reached into his tailored pocket and he pulled out the musket. He knew at point blank range, he could not miss. John also knew that the force of it would ensure the death of the prime minister. He pulled on the trigger and with a pop followed by the smell of gun powder, the prime minister fell.
The men rushed to the aid of the prime minister, and he calmly sat down along one of the benches within the lobby. Officials ran for him, and grabbed him, holding him in place. He raised his hands up and dropped the empty musket to the ground, in surrender. No matter how great an Assassin he was and no matter what he tried now, his life was to end by trial.
"Why? Why did you do this you lunatic!?" One of the officials snarled. John calmly looked to him and snorted.
"To show everyone that even fools in black gowns can be held accountable. Execute me if you wish, I accept all justice for my actions. My life is fickle, but I've just saved liberty for thousands of people. I have no regrets, or remorse."
Within a few minutes, a surgeon had arrived and pronounced the prime minister dead. A warmth fell over John Bellingham that day. A warmth that would leave his body only a week later when he was hung for the assassination of prime minister Spencer Percerval.
Among those in the crowd at his execution, Robert stood in black garbs of mourning. He could see his wife among those in the crowd, not too far from him. Their children were obviously not present for their father's execution. As the noose was fastened around his neck, John asked for a chance to speak. The executioner nodded and moved aside for a moment.
"I would like to tell you all! This was no act self ratification! This was not an act of loathing or political views! This was an act to show that we are not stupid obedient dogs! We are mortal men and women, just as the man I killed! He was an oppressor! He was a mediator for injustice and was going to work to take what was yours from you! He would not give me my right to compensation, for a government to act! I showed that you cannot deny a man his right! I have shown like few good men before me that a government is in the hands of its people, not the other way around! We are not their slaves, but their masters! I was told by my peers to let this injustice go! I was told to settle this trifling matter in the courts! I refuted them all! I told them that this was more than just money or even my rights! This was to show all of you good men and women that even the GOVERNMENT CAN BE FOUGHT!"
Robert felt a rush flow through him from his old mentor's speech. He shared some of his wisdom with the many present at this execution. Many still booed, and many clapped in response. There were always going to be Templars, but to show that their money, power and influence meant nothing in the face of a gun...was to take the fear of the public away from acting on behalf of their own liberty. Pride swelled in him as well as ambition. He hoped to be half the man John was, and knew he had many years to reach that goal. The next day he would be getting on a boat to go to the British Colony of Upper Canada, as he'd heard there was activity of a Templar order there. That's where his own legacy would begin. That's where he would establish his own Order.
