I am in no way associated with the creators of Assassin's Creed 2. This story is merely a fanmade story, created with no thought or intention of financial gain, and only viewer pleasure.
Please enjoy.
Hot and stuffy, that's what the courtyard was. Unbearably so. Every breath, and he breathed in the scent -he could even taste it!- of sweaty, dirty people. Festivals in Italia… the first hour was to die for… by three hours in, though, he wished he could die. All around him the press of bodies pushing against him. He was a big man, but here that didn't matter. The people of Italia could party all night, all day. And he was only three hours in.
His name was Antoine Valcari, renowned blacksmith of Venice, Italy. Known far and wide for his superior crafting skills, he was here for one reason and one reason only. He was not a partier, and he never would be. He was here only because one of the most important nobles in the land had requested his attendance, probably to arrange a customized rapier or cutlass. The nobles were always asking him for such things, to brag about to their friends. It was something Antoine disliked, but didn't comment on. He made his blades to see action, but unfortunately, Venice wasn't much of a action-packed spot. Mostly they ended up being ornaments. It was a shame. A damn shame.
Sweat trickled down his neck, breaking him from his reverie. As if a signal, the heat in the courtyard inched higher, until Antoine felt he was choking. Finally, having had enough the oppressive heat, Antoine stood. Immediately, a gap formed around him. Sitting down he was impressive, but not shockingly so. Standing up, people noticed just how big he was. He was overweight big, but tall and muscular big. He was 6'4 in height, and working in the blacksmith all day had made his arms considerable. Too many times to count he'd been "bumped" into by the eligible ladies, nobles and non alike, and all wishing for just one dance. He'd always gently turned them down tough, claiming that in the heat if he danced he'd pass out. True, but not the whole reason.
As Antoine walked along, his circle of emptiness around him growing smaller by the second, he desperately searched for an escape route, even if for only a moment. Finally, he spotted it… a little path that led away from the courtyard, presumably to some hidden grotto. He hesitated a moment, not wanting to intrude upon any star-crossed lovers, but shook his head. At the moment, he really didn't care.
He reached the pathway just in time, cutting off a young couple going off on their own. He shot them a quick, possessive glare, and they both flushed bright pink. It would have been amusing, had Antoine not been so hot and sticky. At the moment, he wasn't in the mood. The couple quickly headed off in another direction, to another grotto he suspected, and he was able to sigh quietly. The darkness and coolness of night was incredibly relaxing, and he fought a chill working its way down his back. Yes, this was night.
Tall bushes edged the walkway, leaving Antoine with the deceiving feeling of utter privacy. He knew that only feet away a festival was in full swing, and yet he couldn't even hear them. It was nice.
He chose a small, rather unnoticeable bench, partly covered by over-grown hedges, and sat down quietly. Something he hadn't thought of was how his dark clothing, his best for the noble, hid him. He didn't realize it at first, but as a guard passed on rounds, he realized he was nearly invisible. It gave him a nice, powerful feeling. It was something that the normal man wasn't permitted to feel very often. Very nice.
And then suddenly, it wasn't. Antoine watched another guard pass, expecting nothing to happen once again. Then, suddenly the guard stopped dead, a strange expression crossing his face. His hands trembled, and he dropped his spear. Slowly his hand moved to his chest, and a pained expression crossed his face, an expression of which Antoine had never seen before. Then, before the blacksmith's very eyes, the man toppled forward, and died.
Silently, after a moment, a white shadow moved to his side, one hand reaching out to touch the man's throat, where the pulse should be. Evidently pleased with the outcome, the shadow stood.
What ran through his mind never should have, and yet it did. Later he would call himself a traitor, and a horrible person. The night would run through his dreams later, twisted into nightmares. And through it all, through the slow realization that someone had died in front of him, Antoine had time to admire the shadow. It was a … very handsome shadow.
And then it was moving away. Startled, Antoine stared after him, then frowned. He stood up quickly, but still quietly. He ran after the white shadow, speeding along ahead of him. The path went on forever it seemed, like a maze. And then the shadow was there in front of him again, staring up at the roof above the courtyard. Debating, it appeared. He stilled had not heard Antoine, and so Antoine took in a steady breath, and slowly crept forward. Slowly, carefully, and cautiously, Antoine prepared himself….
And launched himself at the shadow.