Bill thought to their night's target. Duke Curtis. What a strong name, and a strong title. Beatrice seemed especially excited this time. He wasn't surprised. She liked the ones with power, status, fame. The shinies, exciting balls, and intrigue all enticed her. It was the kind of thing Bill had never gotten in his living, breathing life, and he imagined Beatrice hadn't either. Someone who fulfilled all their dreams on Earth wasn't likely to become a Reaper, as their mentor had told the pair. Bill didn't find it bad, and even he felt the attraction to the glamour and beauty of the nobility, but sometimes he didn't like the glimmer in Bea's eyes when she talked about the memories they would see. They were, after all, real people they were watching, not stage actors.<br/><br/>They didn't just take the souls of the aristocracy, but of the other servants and staff that lived in the castle as well. Sometimes it was a sad affair; some workers of the castle were owned from childhood to death. Bill thought of Marga, an old stable worker who had died the previous winter. Her life had been interesting, despite much of it being limited to the castle and the occasional trip to town, when the King felt like being generous. As well as unpaid workers, there were plenty of people such as carpenters, painters, horse and dodo trainers, and of course, many, many cooks. The nobles were always one for a feast. Bill and Beatrice would sometimes get the leftovers, or stealthily pocket food as they helped in the kitchens or brought it to the tables. Bill's favourite was Garneo pears, which was a bright, pink, juicy fruit that only grew in the Garneo valley, as its name suggested. It came to the castle every spring, and while Reapers didn't need to eat to survive, he could still enjoy and savour the taste. Bill didn't really consider it stealing. How could you steal from someone that had so very much?<br/><br/>Like Beatrice, Bill's weapon alerted him of when it was time to do their reaperly duties, his manifesting through changes in the carving on the wooden handle, creating etchings of the to-be-deceased. Bill had never learned to read when he was alive, being too low-class, but somehow his Reaper training had given him the ability. He had been so delighted, the first few days of his return were spent sneaking around in the Royal Library. Bill had been nervous around Bea when they first started, as he always was with strangers, but now they were as close as two peas in a pod.<br/><br/>"He won't utter a single peep, I swurr," Bill assured Beatrice in reference to the naughty dodo, after pretending to be extremely offended by her 'strong and short' comment. His head bobbed much like the creature that had so abruptly been added to their party. He gave the dodo a glare from the corner of his eye as he spoke, hoping he was right about the bird's noise levels. The dodo shrank back slightly, letting out a quiet burble as if it had understood. Bill nodded, satisfied. He let himself be pulled along by Beatrice's strong, slightly mannish hands.<br/><br/>"Peaceful indeed," Bill muttered, staring up at the beautiful, hazy moon, its silvery light giving the night a mystical vibe. Bill had died on a full moon. The sudden memory of his death startled him, and he pushed it back into its mind corner. He didn't want to think about it. It had been a bad week overall.<br/><br/>As they peered through the garden at the older gentleman, Bill began to make out the words that the Duke was humming. "Kiade's Third Sonnet," Bill mumbled under his breath, "what an irony, ey?" The sonnet was a famous one, known word-for-word by almost every man, woman, and child in the kingdom, and it was spoken or sung at every birth because of tradition and maybe a bit of fervent hope and good luck.<br/><br/>A ring, worth so much? Bill peered out of the bush to look at the thing. It was pretty, but why did it have such value? Why was it worth more than him and Bea? That's wasn't fair. He suddenly felt quite aggravated, and was pleased when Beatrice offered the "end" to him.<br/><br/>"I'll do," Bill responded, his eyes fixed on the Duke as he fetched his shepherd's axe from his belt. As he did so, the dodo that had followed them pressed its beak into his hand. "Shh," Bill hushed, turning and putting his finger to his lips.<span style="font-style: italic">Maybe it's trained,</span>Bill considered, and put his hand out, palm facing the ground. The dodo sat slowly.<span style="font-style: italic">So it's not completely stupid,</span>Bill mused, turning back to his task.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Right in the chest,</span>Bill thought, sidling up to the unaware man,<span style="font-style: italic">and there's never blood or nothing.</span>In the faint distance, Bill could hear the town's clock tower announcing the time.<span style="font-style: italic">Ten, eleven, twelve!</span>he swung towards the man just as the final bell rang. Instead of a spray of red mist that usually occurred with such strikes, the axe sort of just... sank in, like it was going through the man's shadow, not his physical form, which was of course true. It wasn't a 'killing', it was simply the implementation of a magical lever, helping to dislodge the soul from the body.<br/><br/>As soon as the stroke fell, Bill was filled with memories. Not his own, but Duke Curtis'. It flew by in a fraction of a second, but felt like a lifetime. Bill wondered how many lives he had lived in this way.<br/><br/>Too many.<br/><br/>It was awful this time, too awful. The anger Bill had felt before multiplied as he learned what the Duke had done, in private, in secret. He had been lauded by his peers, and treated servants and slaves like animals. So many rewards for being born of the right woman. He wished he could unsee it, and from such a view. He was only fourteen and a third.<br/><br/>Reapers had to mature fast.<br/><br/>It wasn't like Bill to throw down his Reaper's axe, tears in his eyes, hands in his hair after seeing an aristocrat's life, but it was what happened. It had always been Bea's job to be high-strung, emotional. He was the level-headed, guarded one, the one that calmed her down after all the selfish lives. "It's not fair, Bea," he hissed, rubbing his eyes furiously, causing them to go red, "not fair."<br/><br/>The dodo suddenly let out a tiny, worried warble, poking at Bill's shin with his beak. Bill turned to look down at the creature, struggling against a smile breaking through. "Shaddup," he said hesitantly, arms crossed.