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"channel the fire inside your soul and..."
An arrow cuts through the air, aimed directly at Antinous' throat. There was no chance of missing, the bow was perfectly strung and the arrow flawlessly aimed and fired, Odysseus had made sure of that as he lurked in the shadows.
And yet the arrow didn't hit its target, instead lodging itself into another suitor's arm.
Every pair of eyes in the room stared. At the beggar holding the old Kings bow, at the arrow meant to kill the head suitor, and at said man bowed deeply while still on the table, standing the highest of them all on a table as if it was a stage.
"Scene." He whispered into the room, keeping his eyes trained down on the table before straightening himself, turning to the man cast in shadows.
"My King, the stage is yours." He smiles at Odysseus, stepping down from the table and walking away as if nothing happened, as if his job was done and the curtains closed.
Once out the door, he could hear screams echo from the palace halls, the King broken out of his stupor finally got to work on the pests.
Antinous' smile grew smug, manic even, an air of mischief and the scent of alcohol surrounding him. Funny, he hasn't had a single drink yet.