Percy Jackson and the Olympians: Assassins Creed:
Location: Piazza del Colosseo, 1, Rome
Date: March, 6, 2013
Time: 7:12 pm
The sun sat upon the horizon, casting the shadows of dusk upon the city of Rome. As the sun fell beneath the horizon, the city of Rome was cast into the silky night. Most of the city's residents have returned home, spending time with their families,eating home cooked meals, and sleeping in their nice warm beds.
Well...except for one.
As he walked into the stone structure, the old fashioned lantern in his left hand serving as his only source of light other than the silvery light of the moon. The orange glow cast of the stone walls of the Colosseum. He began his search, his right hand trailing the wall searching, feeling the cold stone against his fingertips. He was prepared to continue his search on the other side of the structure, when he felt a crack in the wall, a small indention in the stone surface, but his target had been spotted. When he felt it, a small smile appeared on the cold mask his face had set into. Remembering the instructions given, he took twelve steps back from the wall. Pressing his weight down into the ground, he felt nothing happen. Had he been wrong? Were his instructions false?
These thoughts had vanished when he was met with the sound of rock sliding, moving out of place.
Quickly, he moved over to the wall where the crack once was, noticing the surface had slid into a cache, opening a small compartment . The compartment was small, and inside was a iron lever. Grasping the lever firmly in his right hand his body involuntarily shivered as his hand made contact with the cold metal. Using all his might, he pulled the lever down, and waited.
The sound of moving rock appeared again, only this time it was in the center of the floor. A circle of stone appeared and then fell , stone stairs jutting out of the chasm. The man watched in surprise as a rock staircase formed. His path was now clear.
Finally,was his only thought as he descended the stairs, into the cold. As he went down the stone steps, he heard the staircase entrance close behind him.
He continued down the stairs until he reached a thick iron door. He knocked heavily on the door, and a small piece of iron slid out. Now a guards deep brown eyes shown as he spoke in a low, gruff voice "We must remember..." His reply was short and swift, his heady English accent showing "Nothing is true, Everything is permitted." The sound of a lock unlocking was his reply, and the door opened. The guards reply was "Proceed brother, the Mentor is waiting." As he passed through the door, the door shut the moment his robes were out of the doorway, the lock resetting once the heavy iron door set into place.
He put out his lantern, he didn't need it in the torchlit hallway. Setting the lantern at his side, he walked down the corridor into the main hall. Most of the members of the Order were either asleep or in the training room, as the main hallway was void of people. He made a quick left as he went in the direction of the Mentors Quarters, it was best not to keep the Mentor waiting.
Eventually, he made his way to the the end of the corridor, reaching a door made out of solid oak, the Orders insignia inlaid in the door in silver. He knocked on the door, and was meet with a swift "Enter." before entering the room.
Stepping into the room, he was met with the scent of burning wood. In the stone fireplace at the end of the room, a warm flame burned through the firewood steadily. The walls of room were covered in bookshelves, filled with records of the history of the Order not kept in the Archives, biographies of previous Mentors, and assorted information on contracts and other intel retrieved by members in the field. Sitting in the chair behind the oak desk, was Nikola Giordano, Mentor of the Order.
Nikola Giordano was an elderly man, as most Mentors were. At the age of 65, he was the youngest Mentor in fifty years. His once deep brown hair had grayed quickly, the gray advancing until little of the color remained. His body had begun to shrivel and wrinkle, and his deep blue eyes had lost the youth and sparkle that they held when he was younger. His face was lined with wrinkles and worry lines, the stress of the duties the Mentor must carry had only catalyzed the aging process. His hands had begun to shake, his teeth had begun to ache, and his eyes were bloodshot.
As if hearing his thoughts, Nikola's soft voice called out to him "If you're done being awed by how old I am, Thomas, there is something we need to discuss." His face flushing in embarrassment, he sat down in the chair in front of desk.
Nikola said" Now, Thomas, I must ask how is the United Kingdom faring?" "My Mentor, the United Kingdom has fallen into almost complete Templar influence. The city of London remains the only territory remaining in our protection, the other areas have fallen under Templar control. I am one of the only three remaining members in all of England." At this revelation, the Mentor's features had twisted into a scowl, and for a moment, he wondered if the Mentor was angry at him. Then, the scowl turned into a frown."It is as I suspected, considering the power the Templars have." He stood up, and turned to look into the fire." The Templars are too strong, their wealth and power make them nearly untouchable. With each passing day, the Templars grow stronger, and our numbers grow smaller." He turned to face him, and in his eyes shown the fear the members of the brotherhood have had for centuries. That the Order would fall, that the Templars would finally achieve their century-old goal. And if that happened...
No. He wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't. He and every member of the Order would fight to their last breath to prevent it.
He attempted to speak, to say something, anything to try to calm the Mentor, to soothe him. But the sight of the Mentor ready to collapse in fear made him swallow any words he could say. The only thing he could do is watch the Mentor in his state of misery and despair.
Eventually, he found his tongue and replied"What-What are you saying?"
The Mentor then put himself together, and looked Thomas dead in the eye, and said "The Order cannot survive like this, Thomas, we need to begin to grow stronger, to regain ourselves. Soon, my time here as Mentor will end, and then we will be divided once more. For years I've been holding the Order together by a thread, and when I'm gone, the senior members of the Order will fight over my position. We need to rebuild, or else..." the fear in his eyes returned, and he had to look away, as if the thought were too much for him to bear.
Thomas remained silent. This was too much for him to take, he had to think of something.
Before he could respond, the Mentor replied "Thomas, there's something I have been working on, a special project I have been waiting for the right time to put into action." He then walked over to the bookshelf just left of the door in which he entered. He then grabbed a small statuette of a Terra Cota Warrior off the shelf, and took its head off. Where the warriors body once was a gold plated key. He then walked back over to the desk, and took out a small chest. Placing the key in the lock, he opened the chest and pulled out a file folder. Thomas's curiosity rose with each second that passed. His breathing had become short and erratic as he wondered about what could be in the folder. The Mentor then handed him the folder and said "Inside are the names of a few promising recruits that could be of use. Find them and convince them to join the Order". The Mentor would have said more, but it would have been a waste of breath. Thomas had already begun to look through the folder. Seeing few of actual use, he made his way towards the back of the folder.
And a name caught his eye.
"Mentor," he turned to look at him "this last name sounds very familiar." The Mentor smiled "Do you remember how you got that free microwave oven when you were in California seven years ago?" "Hmmm..." he thought trying to remember...wait a minute! " That kid that was chased cross country by his captor in hopes of escape? You want to recruit him?" "He managed to evade a muscle-bound psychopath as he traveled across the entire continental United States and faced his captor in a rifle to shotgun death match, he shows promise." "Well, yes...but how old is he now. Seventeen? Eighteen? Isn't that a little young?" "There is an old saying, Thomas. Beggars can't be choosers." "But!" "No, Thomas. We need these people. We need Percy Jackson."