Assassin's Creed:
Alliance Chapter 2
Ratonhnhaké ton swiftly vaulted into the building's open window, for a moment he scanned the room in which Dorian had placed his residence. Nothing in the room was very personal, except a painting hanging squarely in the center of the far wall.
The painting depicted an elegant red-haired woman, Ratonhnhaké ton had no idea who this woman was, but the Templar cross hanging from her neck convinced him of Dorian's turn.
Ratonhnhaké ton advanced into the room, the furniture was bland and one small table held several bottles of wine and a simple feather bed lay in the corner, nearly shredded to pieces.
In one corner, an ornate sword was placed against the wall, it's radiance reminded Ratonhnhaké ton of the Apple of Eden he had come into contact with many years earlier.
Ratonhnhaké ton reached to pick up the strange weapon when the point of a sword reached his throat as well.
"Not a good idea, sauvage. (savage.)"
Ratonhnhaké ton slowly turned to meet his attacker, the man wore a brown leather trench coat and a red undershirt. From his missing teeth and scarred face, Ratonhnhaké ton knew it wasn't his target.
"Where is Dorian?" Ratonhnhaké ton demanded.
"Funny," his attacker said. "I was gonna ask you the same thing."
"Interesting, the Templars are looking for Dorian as well. For what, I wonder?" Ratonhnhaké ton asked.
"Him and that wench," he said while gesturing to the painting on the wall. "murdered the Grandmaster, the remnants want him dead."
"You won't get to him." Ratonhnhaké ton threatened.
"And why is that, fou? (fool?)"
"Because I am going to find him first."
Ratonhnhaké ton knocked the man's sword away and drove his wrist-mounted blade into the man's throat. Ratonhnhaké ton smirked at the man as he fell to his knees, gargling horrendously as he died and collapsed to the ground. Ratonhnhaké ton yanked his blade from the man's neck and wiped it off with a rag.
Suddenly, a musket ball flew past Ratonhnhaké ton and landed in the wall behind him, Ratonhnhaké ton spied the sniper nestled on the roof adjacent to him. Ratonhnhaké ton drew his flintlock and fired at the sniper, his forehead shattering as the ball blew through it and out the other side.
Ratonhnhaké ton sighed as he reloaded his gun. "Do they never learn?" he said to himself.
"Apparently not." a voice said from behind him.
Ratonhnhaké ton whirled around to see an old man in a similar outfit to his, an Assassin.
"Connor, is it?" the man asked.
"Ratonhnhaké ton." Ratonhnhaké ton replied.
The man's eyes widened. "I'll stay with Connor, si cela ne vous fait rien. (if you don't mind.)"
"Vous aurez à pardonner mon Français , il est pas narine. (You'll have to pardon my French, it's not good nostril.)" Ratonhnhaké ton stammered.
The old man laughed. "No, it is not. So what is your business in Paris, Connor?" he asked.
"First, who are you?" Ratonhnhaké ton said coldly.
"I am Herve Quemar. French Assassin's Mentor. Now, why are you here?"
"I am looking for Arno Dorian, the deserter." Ratonhnhaké ton said.
"Ah, I see. Arno was excommunicated from our Order because of his radicalism in avenging the former Templar Grandmaster, Francois de la Serre and his passionate love of de la Serre's daughter Elise." he said as he gestured to the painting.
"So you sent the contract." Ratonhnhaké ton guessed.
"I do not entirely know who sent the contract, but I will not oppose it. My only wish is to talk with the lad before you bring him in." Quemar said.
Ratonhnhaké ton nodded. "Agreed." he said as he climbed from the window and out into the street below.
