Disclaimer: Ubisoft owns Assassin's Creed and all characters, locations etc. within the game. I only own my OC.
Her feet moved with a hurried anxiousness as her arms draped heavily over the package wrapped under her arm, hidden underneath the folds of her dress. Her shoes scuffled along the dirt road, a fine dust covering the black material and fading the tips to a dirt-coloured brown. As she dropped her head she walked faster, too scared to look behind her. Entering the town square, she surveyed the town streets and embraced the town market, selling all types of unwanted myths and goods. The sight of so many people relaxed her. She could blend in here but had to remain as normal as possible; she could not be caught looking suspicious. She slowed her pace to a speed where it seemed she was inspecting the contents of the stalls. She leisurely turned her head to the right, catching a lady who sold an elixir said to fix a balding head. To the left, another woman sold her powers of fortune telling, claiming she could see into the future with a deck of picture cards and a sprinkle of herbs. The young woman gave a quick chuckle. No such thing. Plus, the herbs could be better used to make a meal for the beggars than to give people false hope. Her stomach rumbled at that; she didn't know how long it had been since her last meal. The sooner the job is done, the sooner I can eat she thought. She gave the fortune teller one last look. There was only one way to know your future; make it for yourself.
As she walked through the stalls she caught a man selling mirrors and, as he flashed it towards her, she saw two burly men reflected back, following her at a safe distance. The mirror was soon turned away from her and her eyes widened as her pace quickened. She held the package a little bit tighter and walked to the direction of her destination. Not far now. As she turned into an alleyway of hostels and bakeries, she heard two sets of heavy footsteps behind her. She made the mistake of looking behind her and, when she caught their gaze, lifted up the hem of her dress and ran. Their heavy steps followed as they yelled insults at her. She knew she would not escape here on the ground so, tearing off the skirt from her dress (leaving only the coloured bodice and a pair of black pants concealing her), she jumped onto some piled crates on the side of the street and made a leap to catch a pole jutting out from a building. Having only one hand to hold her up with was difficult but she didn't dare to let go of the package. Swinging herself onto the rooftops, she glanced down and saw the men's angry fists waggling in the air at her while their lips screamed hateful insults. She gave a smirk and ran on the rooftops, landing softly on the tiles as her calculated leaps prevented her from falling to her death. She stopped for a second, catching her breath and looking at the town. Tiled rooftops, two storey houses, greedy people, hostels, brothels and bakeries. She wanted so much more than this but was not able to escape; she could not break her last promise and leave it here alone. As she jumped over the rooftops, she spotted her destination.
Her heart raced as she neared the building entrance; a huge wooden door with magnificent brass handles concealing the secrets that lay within. She grabbed the knocker – a shimmering lion's head with its jaw open wide to reveal bare teeth, a clear warning for anyone who dared to enter. She banged it against the door three times, took two steps back and let out one heavy breath. A man came to the door, noted her figure and motioned her inwards. She gave slight nod and made her way to the owner's study. She simply barged into the room without warning and he immediately stood and opened his arms.
"Always on time," he spoke warmly as he stepped around his desk. She handed him the package and he gave her a saddened look, his wrinkles further pushing into his skin. "This is boring you, is it not?"
"You know I need more."
"I know. I've been in your position. Honour your promise though. You know the consequences if you break it," he warned. "We are both prisoners in this world, you by your promise, and me by fear."
"My promise is none of your concern. But you? Fear?" she questioned, folding her arms across her chest. "What have you to fear? The strongest man in our empire, you can command this town with a wave of your hand. You can surely agree someone like me has more to fear; running from the intentions of drunken men, escaping death by mere inches just so someone can grab the crusts of bread from your hands, knowing that you are never safe, not knowing where your next meal will come from or whether you will generate an income for the week and forever running. Your life is easy. Tell me about fear. You are decorated in gold; no one would dare to touch you."
He stayed calm despite the anger in her voice – it dripped like poison. "But that is what makes me more of a target. I live in a different world than you, my dear. My fears greatly differ from yours. I fear steel blades and black flags."
She stopped. "These boxes I deliver to you, are they the source of your fear?" She would dig deeper until her inquisitive nature was fulfilled. He gave a light shrug, placed the package on his desk then opened the top draw, revealing a crimson-coloured envelope.
Handing it to her, he said, "Take this to him and thank him for our business deals together. I'm sure there will be many more in the future. Here is your money." His sudden coldness warned her that attempts to look into his private affairs were risky. She nodded and walked out of the room swiftly, carrying the letter with care as she made her way home.
She decided to keep her feet planted on the ground as her legs were tired from her previous escape. Though she could get home (what she called home) more quickly by skimming over rooftops, she decided that her body needed to relax as the day had taken its toll on her. As she walked at a delicate pace, much faster than others but she was not in the mood for a 'walk in the park', she contemplated her previous discussion. Steel Blades and Black Flags? What did he mean? Steel blades were obviously swords but black flags? The closest connection she could make was a pirate flag but crewmen and captains were always too drunk to wreak havoc on Havana. Though Pirate attacks had occurred in the past, what did he have to fear? The moment a cannon blasted, he was escorted out of the city to a safe-haven. His stance in society protected him from any physical harm – the guards always blocked his door. But then again, everyone was subject to emotional pain and suffering. The only guard there was you. And you were the only trainer of that guard and any emotional pain was blamed entirely from your lack of training. Perhaps his guard was not so strong anymore, all she knew was that someone had a hold over him and it wasn't imaginary. Her feet stopped for an instant and her body stiffened. If someone was to influence him, they could get to her via their association. Her part, even though she may not be aware of exactly what it was, could end up getting her killed. She always prided herself that her greatest instinct was self-preservation. Now was the time to use it. She knew she would have to get more information about steel blades and black flags for her own safety and to ensure that her last promise would not break.
She stopped at a bakery on the way back, picking up two loaves of bread.
"I see you had a job this week," the baker commented as she handed over the money to pay. "Last week you both must have been hungry." She nodded slightly. At least she was busier this week; she was actually able to afford bread. He gave her the two loaves and added a few biscuits into the package. She opened her mouth to speak but he interrupted before she could begin, "Don't argue. Take them while I have them. Next week there may be none." She nodded in understanding, thanked the baker and walked away.
Walking through the streets of Havana, you could often spot a beggar and, as always, pirates and drunken allies conversing loudly within the bars, yelling slurred words over bottles of rum. These were regulars in this town along with whores, unfaithful husbands and guards. She walked past familiar faces and worn-out places, often stopping outside a noisy bar as the strong smell of rum filled her senses. What she would give to have a taste! She shoved her hand into her pockets and pulled out a small amount of money, barely enough for a drop. Sighing heavily, she dragged her feet past the bar as she managed to control her near-unquenchable thirst. As the day was nearing its end, her body grew weak but she knew she must make one more stop before arriving home.
After walking for a while, she spotted a brown weather-beaten door with a faded sign above it, reading "Kitty's Brothel". She pushed the door open and saw half-dressed women walking around, men clinging to the bare halves of their bodies. She knew the faces of most of these men, high standing people in society, however were ruled by parts other than their brains. After looking with disgust at most of the drunken men and with compassion towards the women forced to be here, she walked up to the infamous Kitty. Handing her a loaf of bread and some biscuits she said, "Give this to her. Make sure she's looked after. I'll come by later on this week to see how things are."
She nodded, "I'll give them to her but there's only so much I can do to look after her."
"I know, I know. It's a tough time for all of us but she needs to be looked after, especially now."
"Understood," Kitty said with sympathy in her voice. Everyone was struggling here; if you weren't rich, you were a dirt-poor beggar. These two polar opposites seemed to exist side-by-side here in Havana, not without tension, but pleasant enough for them both to survive. However, most of the poor were kept for the pleasure of the rich, especially the females who had no other choice if they wished to eat every day, or the beggar who so desperately wanted proper shoes to protect his blistered feet from the hard cobblestone that he tolerated being beaten as a servant. Life was cruel here; an everlasting circle that could not be broken. You were a fool to believe you could change it.
She walked out of the brothel with a trace of sadness. Here, she considered herself lucky, the fact that she was employed (sometimes) however, when she walked the streets, she considered herself to be poor. Funny how self-perception changes as quickly as the wind. The only curse she thought she bared was her ability to see beyond the façade. She knew this life was bad for her and everyone stuck in it but she was unable to reach out her hand to help. The best she could hope for was a stable job – she was to look out for herself before anyone else. That's the way this world turned. Oh how often she had wished on a starry night that she was better off, that justice could be brought unto the citizens of Havana. That the rich would suffer for their crimes of gluttonous greed and that the poor would be set free again. That all the promises her father made to her long ago would come true; she would be happy and healthy, marry a wonderful man and be blessed with children, that she would live in a proper house and was able to keep warm on a winter night. Too many people here were enslaved by their suffering and hope for a better life. The sad thing was, so was she.
Hello all,
Welcome to my first published fanfic! I hope you all enjoy it and please, please, please share your thoughts on it (positive or negative. Comments are much appreciated)
I know Edward wasn't revealed in this chapter but you know how it goes, introduction to setting and character first. But he will pop up soon and begin to Captain this fanfic ship. But really, what's a ship without the crew a.k.a 'citizens'? As Ade' referenced the citizens of Jackdaw, I too, call upon all those reading this (if you still are!) to join this ship as it sets sail. Citizenship requires a love of AC! That's all!
Also, if I don't update for a while please keep pestering me to do so. I have a horrible habit of leaving stories without an end. It would be even nicer if you could give me some ideas of where the stories should be going (sometimes I lack inspiration). I am MORE than willing to collaborate with anyone who has any ideas for further story chapters! I know I can't do this all by myself.
Thanks for reading and hopefully I'll see you around for more chapters!
- Madzamicated