A chapter that I've written to deal with my obsession of the first Assassin's Creed game. It's a bit long and I'm not entirely sure if I will continue with it (I find Middle Eastern history to be extremely confusing and complicated) but please, enjoy.
One step. One step and she will be completely vulnerable, alienated from her shelter of shade that provides her with anonymity and closure from the rest of the bustling society, to the paralleled realm of light that offers nothing but exposure. Yet, she cannot continue to put this off any longer. She has not eaten in three days, aside from a few scraps she had managed to scavenge, and as she observes the market stand in front of her, she has already calculated that the loaf of bread should last her for at least a week and a half. By that time, the city will have forgotten all about her petty crime and her face will once again belong to the shadows. It will all begin with one step.
She emerges into the seething afternoon sunlight, draping her cloak around her face though it lacks the familiarity of the shade. Already she is sweating and she can feel her clothes beginning to cling against her skin. She gazes up at the stand from underneath her hood. The crowd of people gathering around it has steadily grown larger; obviously the larger, the better, as it will most likely divert the merchant's attention from herself. She checks her surroundings towards her left, then her right. There are two guards a fairly good distance away to her left, talking amongst themselves, but as long as she acts stealthily, she should be able to outrun them, should they happen to notice her. She knows she cannot linger, or else the merchant will become suspicious of her presence; she must put her plan into action now.
Head bowed, she continues to engulf herself further into the crowd of people, inching her way to the right side of the stand, where the bread is located on a back shelf. Again, she subtly checks her surroundings. It appears as though no one has caught onto her motive. She is feeling confident, and with her new-found sense of confidence, she grows bolder, realizing that she is so close to obtaining her goal that she may actually get away with it.
With the merchant preoccupied with attending to his customers' needs at the front of the market stand, she turns her back to the crowd and slowly extends out her left arm towards the loaf of bread. At last, her fingertips sense the tempting texture of its soft, crusty exterior. It has been freshly baked, perhaps only a few hours ago; just her luck. Her fingers grow anxious at the thought and hungrily grasp themselves around the loaf until finally, her arm retracts itself back and she is able to stare at her prize face to face. A week and a half's worth of food rests in her grimy hands.
"Are you going to pay for that?" a male, disgruntled voice sternly asks as a hand slaps itself onto her shoulder and forces her to turn around. It is the merchant who holds her within his clutches, his expression gravely serious as he stares down at her, pursed lips concealed behind his moustache. She doesn't know how to answer, not that she could answer if she wanted to, for her voice has left her from the sudden shock of her lack of judgement. She had assumed things would go according to plan, but as she looks at the man, her mind wallows in a pit of helplessness.
And when no response is given, the merchant smiles cruelly and says, "I didn't think so."
He grabs hold of her arm and drags her to the front of his stand. At this point, most of the crowd has dispatched after witnessing her arrest and knowing fully well what is to come next, but a new crowd begins to gather as the merchant calls for the guards. Their faces exhibit the same looks of concern, pity and fright, and she loses herself in their sea of repetitive expressions. The two guards whom she had seen conversing now start to make their way over to her and the merchant. She notices that their hands are already resting at their swords, alert, and her mind races.
Again, the merchant forcefully pulls her forward, making her yell out in pain. "I caught this one stealing from my stand," he informs the two men, and again, she is caught in the act, for the bread is still in her hand. There can be no way for her to talk herself out of her predicament now.
"You should know what the penalty is for stealing," one of the guards sneers.
He motions for the other guard to approach her. In a last escape attempt, she desperately tries to break free of the merchant, biting at his arm, and as he yells, she bolts in the opposite direction. Her body quickly reminds her of the consequences of having not eaten for three days however, because she is already running out of breathe and has hardly any stamina to carry herself any longer. She screams as the guard tackles her to the ground, thrashes and kicks, throws dirt at his face in an attempt to blind him, but he remains ruthless and restrains her as he pulls her to her feet.
"Bring her here!" the first guard bellows from the merchant's stand.
Though her efforts were valiant, she had only managed to escape by a mere few meters. This reality makes her feel pathetic and being hauled back to her starting point at the market stand brings her shame. If she had all of her energy, she could have made it... Perhaps she should try to humanize herself in the presence of the guards.
"Please, you must understand," she begins, voice trembling, "I have nothing, no way to pay for it." Both guards remain untouched by her words as the one guard who continues to restrain her pulls back her cloak, exposing her left arm and places it on the stand. She becomes more fearful, her pleading more sincere. "No, please! I promise I will never do it again!" She gawks at the crowd. She knows she cannot expect help from anyone; if someone tried to interfere, they would most likely suffer the same fate as her. Yet, she continues to demonstrate negative body language as she whips her head to and fro, hoping to get a message across to them.
Again, she cries out in agony: "I beg of you! Please spare me!"
The other guard draws out his sword from his belt, blade gleaming against the sunlight, and he positions it directly above her wrist. She anticipates that it will be painful. She expects she will lose a lot of blood and may possibly die as a result from it. How could she have been so careless, to forget that the penalty for stealing costs the thief their hand? Now she is prepared for her punishment mentally, but emotionally and physically, her body betrays her as her eyes spill tears and she continues to tremble.
A few gasps erupt from the crowd as suddenly, a white figure dashes across the rooftop of a nearby house, which is strange behaviour to witness, and lands behind the guard who continues to wield his weapon above her wrist. It's a man, she's sure of it, but his cloaked hood has concealed most of his face. Immediately, he grabs the guard by the neck, slicing his throat with a hidden blade under his sleeve, the blood drenching his white cloak. The other guard has now registered the fact that he is in danger, pushes her aside, and draws his sword. She swears she catches the sight of a smirk on the man's face as he climbs along the side of a building, reaches into his pocket, kicks off of the wall, and flings a knife at his target. The guards yells, for the knife has penetrated through his simple clothing and struck his chest. He desperately attempts to pull the knife out of his shaking body, but the blood is seeping through his uniform, the colour draining from his face, and the air, escaping his lungs. She watches on numbly as the guard's life fleets before his eyes, while the other guard continues to choke on his own blood.
All at once, people begin to scream horrifically, dashing in all directions, like a herd of cornered animals, while the merchant, with his only defence having been brutally slain, obviously makes a run for it.
Her saviour, who has landed in a kneeling position, slowly brings himself back to his feet, staring at her all the while. His face is now a bit more visible, and from where he is standing, she notices his golden eyes—heavenly to look at, but ones that contain deadly intentions. Now that he is still, she also observes his outfit: both of his lower arms are armoured, a large belt covers the entire middle of his waist, and a sword dangles at his side. The man is obviously heavily equipped, ready for war. She has seen men like him before, and as the people around her that were brave enough to continue to stand in their place mutter the word, she realizes it must be true: he is an assassin.
Shouting can be heard a few blocks away. The yells and constant screams of distant people must have informed other guards that something treacherous has occurred. The man in white knows this is true as well because he becomes much more alert, body tense as he looks back over his shoulder in search of the oncoming guards. When they start to emerge, he quickly approaches her and huskily whispers, "follow me."
With that, the two of them break into a sprint. It is a difficult task to accomplish—remaining unseen through the hectic streets—as people refuse to move and must be pushed out of the way, beggars try to block one's path in an effort to achieve spare change, and women balancing jugs full of water on their heads can't get out of the way in time. Not only that, but the running has sapped her of her last bit of energy and she nearly collapses in the middle of the street.
The man in white takes note of her struggle. He swiftly leads her over to a wagon filled with hay, with the simple instruction of: "stay hidden here and don't move. I will return for you once it is safe." And just like that, the man continues to lead on the chase, climbing back onto the rooftops of houses, heading in the direction of a nearby mosque.
She obeys her orders, hustling herself into the wagon, her entire vision revealing nothing but mounds of yellow hay. From outside on the streets, she can hear the galloping of the guards and their threatening words of "you can never outrun us! I'll have your head!" She tries to stay awake, forces herself to stay awake, but her body fails her once more as her eyelids grow heavy and the muffled sounds from outside turn to silence.