For something steeped so deeply in enigma, the Assassin's Guild - Dirk reflected - was really not as solemn as he assumed it would be. More than anything else, it seemed to be a rag-tag group of deadly, but extremely different individuals. Still, it wasn't anything to get sore over. The facts remained the same: he, Dirk Strider, was a Recruit. Grueling years of swordplay, hand-to-hand, weapon-crafting and general exhaustion had led to this pivotal moment. Granted, he didn't really see his hard work pan out quite like this, but it was something. He had to stay professional.
And like hell was he going to allow himself to get distracted by a pair of incredibly well engineered wings. But there they were, gleaming copper and bronze; a miracle if they actually worked, but somehow he doubted they were just for show.
Dammit, don't get distracted!
His sponsor was intimidating enough without them: although Dirk himself was by no means a short man, Rufioh - Rank Warrior - towered over him at, what he could only estimate, 6'4, and was surprisingly friendly (Dirk had an inkling that these "surprising" revelations would not be unfamiliar to him).
"So, uh, yeah...that's what a warrior like me does here." Rufioh had a drawling lilt to his voice; it made sense how he had climbed so far up the assassin hierarchy at such a young age. He was unassuming, or, well, as unassuming as one could be with a massive sword strapped to ones back. The mechanical wings probably didn't help much either, if he wore them outside of the Guild. But that wasn't really a question fit for the moment. There were other far more important things to keep track of than an eccentric man's fashion choices.
"I couldn't help but notice that it isn't very crowded here-"
"Right, right. Well, i'm supposed to tell you all about that anyway, but you know, I think you should get to know the people and the place. Sorry," he added, though his tone remained light.
"Suits me," Dirk replied with a curt nod, pausing. "So is there someone I'm supposed to report to, who can tell me what a "Recruit" is or what the hell I'm supposed to be doing now that you've roped me in to your little club. You know, the basics that everyone should have from the start, so they don't end up failing miserably? It's the little things that matter."
"Whoa," he breathed. There was a look in his eye that would be akin to amusement, if it wasn't entirely polite. Rufioh was strange like that - he was so casual, it was almost polite. "You're, like, really eager, if you don't mind me sayin' - but I'm your Sponsor so walk with me, I'll let you know." He ambled away, leaving Dirk no real choice but to follow at few steps behind him, thanks to those ridiculous wings. Taking up most of the corridor's space, they forced anyone unlucky enough to be walking nearby at the time to flatten themselves against the walls - they were kind of sharp and jagged - something you really didn't want near skin.
Rufioh apologized to no one in particular (and thus, to everyone in general) at regular intervals, but Dirk was forced to consider the sincerity of these casual, almost well-worn apologies. It looked like he was used to giving them, but also used to being flat out ignored for them. So the wing thing was normal then. Great. He'd always wanted a giant bird companion anyway.
Oh, wait.
Luckily, they soon reached the common chambers. There were a lot more people here; most looked busy, but some were lazing around. Rufioh led him to a large tapestry near the back of the cozy, decorated room, looking pointedly at it and then back at him. Moving in for a closer look, Dirk could see detailed illustrations of the Assassins, their Creed, history and ranks. It seemed old and almost venerable; it had probably taken years to make.
"A manual," he noted in deadpan, enjoying the ever-so-slight eyebrow twitch this earned him. The previous joviality, the previous drawl of Rufioh was gone - instead, here was the Warrior, a strong, genuinely imposing figure. His tone was sombre, as he explained, "A manual, yes. Our legacy. Everything we stand for - that we have ever stood for - is on this tapestry. An assassin cannot hope to represent his creed if he does not respect each and every inch of this manual. So, initiate - are you here for the creed? If you don't mind me asking."
A soft smile played at the corner of the Warrior's lips, a slight twinkle in his eye that explained his reversion to his usual drawl. "I kind of need to know what that is first, don't I?" Dirk replied keeping his demeanor unphased. "Is it somewhere in the manu- sorry, the tapestry-come-legacy, then?" His eyes were already scanning the wall...crap, there was a lot up there. Not just the usual amount of stuff a wall hanging this size would have, he noticed, there was so much more written so small it was hard to discern it from squiggles. "History of Alpha Guild," "Affiliations" - there was a lot scratched out here and patched over - "Grand Masters," a map of the Guild, a field map to other Guilds...
Yeah. A lot.
"I'm just surprised you don't already know- but..." he trailed off. "The Grand Masters know best." As Dirk looked at him expectantly, Rufioh sighed and then sat down. It was a wonder he didn't hear the chair sigh under his sheer bulk. "Our creed is simple, but multi-faceted," he said, the somberness back in his voice. Here, again, was the Assassin. "You live them. You breathe them. You know them inside out. Number one-" he held up a long finger, the eye-contact intense. "Know your strengths well; know the enemy's strengths better. Self-explanatory, I think, sorry if I'm speaking over you here, but I'm pretty sure you would agree. Suffer no delusions - harsh word, I know - that you will definitely be stronger than the enemy. Like, y'know, I know I can fly and all, but the enemy might have flaming catapults and if one of them hits me..."
He shook his head. "Well. I'm fucked."
Dirk nodded, crossing his arms. That made sense. "Number two, and this is my favorite one: Loyalty begets freedom; treachery begets oppression. We are a brotherhood. Our success is based on our strength as a unit." Dirk shifted his weight slightly, interested. "If one of us slips up, we're all doomed. We fight for liberation, but how can we liberate people if we can't be a united front? No. We have to work together, and there's no argument about that. Divided, we fall, we leave cracks for the enemy to seep in through - and by leaving cracks, we crumble until a landfall hits the people we have to protect."
Suddenly, Rufioh grinned, "And we can't have that."
Without waiting for Dirk to comment, he went on. "Number three: Sacrifice above all." He fingered his sword, looking towards the tapestry. "We all have to give up certain things to be a part of this guild - I assume you did too - and it won't be easy. As Assassins, we know more than anyone what hardship and sacrifice is, but we don't hesitate. We're willing to give up our lives for this - and in the cases of our superiors, they have."
Before Dirk had time to ponder that cryptic statement, Rufioh pressed on, "But this - this is what we live for, above all else. Finally, number four, which, well, it's really number one. Let no hierarchy dictate your fate."
"That one I already knew. It's the one thing people can agree this Order stands for." And it was really the reason Dirk had decided to go along with this recruitment. He was sick of living in the world as an underdog, nothing expected of him because his older brother had already been too successful, if there was even such a thing. The guy wasn't even really his brother, just a guardian but no one other than Dirk seemed to remember this. But he'd been content-ish - becoming an apprentice mechanic wasn't the worst thing in the world for a dude - but then there'd been that little hiccup with the Midnight Assassin and Roxy and the decapitation...that would put a stopper on anyone's career path. Well. Unless they were also in the business of killing - which was the only way Roxy had enticed him into joining up. He wondered idly where she was...was she even in the building? A curt cough brought him back to the present, with Rufioh giving him yet another impatient look. Oh, he'd missed all of that.
"Like I said before, Sacrifice above all. That means discipline, so you might want to listen to your superiors before you go waving that sword at the enemy." And then he added with a big, goofy grin, "If you don't mind me sayin'." Dirk shook his head, mildly abashed. Rufioh turned, and took a book from the shelf, putting it down in front of Dirk. It was small, but definitely well-thumbed through. "This one's pretty important too, it's a more concise history of our guild. Not as abstract as the manual." He grinned, "Good bedtime reading."
And who didn't love homework.