TMWolf: Oh, dang, four reviews for my prologue! Thanks guys! xD Anyways, so I am posting this a little early since I figured that short little prologue was hardly a proper way to trick-er, I mean, reel in readers to this story of mine, so here's chapter 1 quite a bit early! It's nowhere near as much of a mind trip as the prologue, so you can be at ease people. In fact, it's much more normal and we even get to meet our first Assassin, yay! Also, you may notice my new little "Act I" thing. Yep. Dividing this thing up into Three Acts, of various lengths, because it seemed pretty cool to do. It'll only show up at the beginning and end of Acts, so if it bothers you, no worries-it'll be gone next chapter. No telling when it'll show again-I'm not even sure what chapter Act I will end on yet! xD
Right. So. Oh! This chapter's song title is pulled from the game Journey's soundtrack - The Call. I thought it was rather fitting... and you probably will, too, as you read;)
Now, for replying to those lovely Guests! (If you have an account please do log in and I can reply directly! :'D)
Guest- I'm glad! I hope it continues to be interested for you!
Woah - Thank-you, and, actually, I have not seen Lucy! It did look like fun, but I haven't seen it yet. Thanks for the review!
Right, so I don't have much to say and I don't want to spoil anything, so without further a do-Chapter 1, in which Catherine teaches everyone how to get new clothes the Renaissance way!
Act I
Voyager
01 – The Call
It was a little hot and a little humid, but nowhere near unbearably so. She could feel the trickle of sweat on her brow and the warmth of the hard surface beneath her. There was also a strange wetness on her other cheek and a strong, almost rank smell she vaguely recognized. Her head hurt and felt heavy; like it was made of lead. The rest of her tingled and retained a lingering ache, but it was fading with each passing second. Somehow, she managed to open her eyes. She blinked them slowly, letting them adjust to the shaded sunlight, and also to take in what she was seeing.
Stones. Grayish-white-tinted stone. And legs. Four of them, thick and bulky and covered in short, dark fur. There were small drops of drool in front of the paws, which were scraped here and there, matching the light scars further along. When she looked upwards, she found the large head of an equally large dog. It was a mastiff, and now that it realized she was awake, it made a soft whine and licked her with its slobbering tongue. She made a sound of disgust as she quickly sat up and wiped the slime from her face, and then had to push her hands against the dog's chest to keep it from licking her again.
"Stop," Catherine commanded, using the voice she always used with her own dogs. The mastiff made a chuff before it backed off and sat down, watching her expectantly. She raised a brow. "What? I don't have treats and I don't even know you. I'll give you pets if you… er… if… uh… where… where am I?"
Stone buildings, at least three to four stories tall surrounded her. She was at the back end, where the two sides met—an alley. There were a handful of dark, wooden doors, all of them closed, and many windows shared the same fate. A couple of laundry clothes lines hung above with garments strewn about. A few stacks of crates were here and there—she was actually slightly behind one obscuring her view to the exit—and she noticed some tools such as brooms or buckets or cloth spread out near a ladder. When she leaned forward, she could see the brightened street, and beyond that was the sunlight glittering off a river. It was there she spotted a small crowd of people walk by, and felt her stomach drop a little.
While she knew she wasn't in a usual place—she didn't know any city or town with buildings or alleys like the one she was in—but the people… their clothes… they were…
'No, no, that can't be right. I… I have to be at a Renaissance Festival or something or… but… why… the hell would I be here? I was in Scotland! I was in my family's castle! I was… I was…'
Catherine's heart skipped a beat and the flare of panic scalded her insides as the memories started to come back. That wasn't entirely true, though; she couldn't recall it perfectly. It was blurred; sporadic—like trying to recall a dream from the night before. She caught glimpses: a burst of light; the symbols; the man; the pain. It made her body shake and breathing difficult. She brought her hands up to clutch her body, but pulled them away at once as if shocked when she felt a hard surface press against her side. She looked to her hand and found the very thing that had done all this.
"No… no, no no no no," she whimpered, eyes wide as she gazed at the Clock. It was still there, in her right hand. Briefly, she thought it was stuck there—that it really had been burned into her hand—but then it fell to her lap when she her limb shook too much. It was cold now, and the single hand was set to the twelve mark. She just wanted to shove it off, run away, and keep on going. She wanted nothing to do with it and whatever the man had wanted. She just wanted to go home—go back to her family! To escape from this nightmare!
"Wake up!" she hissed, smacking her face and biting her tongue. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing this wasn't reality, but she knew it was. This was too real to be a dream. Too much had happened. She was awake.
Catherine jumped when a wet nose touched her cheek, and she looked to the dog with panic for a moment before she sighed with defeat. She rubbed behind its ear, much to the Mastiff's delight, and ultimately picked up the Clock again. Though the memories were vague, she did remember that the man had said she needed to do something—to help someone. Then… then she could be "returned". She could go back home. That meant she needed the Clock. It had brought her here, so it was the only thing that could bring her back. But by God—a time machine! She had a fucking time machine! She'd been brought back through time! She was in the past! She was stuck here to go on some God-forsaken mission that made no sense and she had no idea about, and she was expected to do it!?
Anger overtook despair in less than a second, and the red-headed young woman grabbed the Clock tight in her fingers. She brought her arm back to throw it, and almost did. Her muscles tightened, the coils and springs of flesh ready to fire, but then they never did. They stayed taut as she grit her teeth and struggled and warred against herself. Ultimately, though, she lowered her arm, and opened her hands to look down at the device.
"Fine. You want me to help stop whatever it is you want stopped… then give me a hint. I can't exactly remember everything besides the pain, which is all on you lady… and… thing, I guess," she sighed, rubbing its surface. It was quiet, though; cold and still. It refused to answer, and she scowled. Great. She was on her own then, wasn't she?
A sharp pain went through her head, and she might have found it ironic if it hadn't hurt a lot more than she wanted and if it hadn't shown her the image from before; the spear or arrow or whatever the hell it was with the center carved out. She bit her lip to keep her shout of pain a whimper, hating the Clock all the more. Thankfully, it only lasted mere moments, yet the picture remained and with it came a tugging. It was an odd feeling, thinking she was being pulled in some way. She wasn't completely like herself as she focused on the sensation, and she really didn't like it.
"Ow," she rumbled as sharp claws dug into her leg. She gave the dog a look, whom whined and shifted expectantly. She raised a brow and rubbed him behind the ears again as she shoved the Clock into her pocket. "What do you want, boy? You want a treat? I don't have any. Want me to get up? Well, I'm getting up. I'm up, I'm up. If it's not you, then it'll be this stupid Clock."
Sighing, she pressed against the stone and forced herself to her feet. Her legs felt a little wobbly, but she got her strength back soon enough. Of course, even though she could stand and move just fine, it didn't mean she'd stay okay. She was back in the past after all, and if she was guessing the time of the peoples' attire right… it was the Middle Ages or Renaissance or near it. Her clothes, however, were very much so modern, and she was a young woman and she was wearing pants. Sure, they wouldn't crucify or burn her, but it probably wouldn't go over so well. She vaguely recalled looking up what would happen once, so she knew people would find it odd, which meant attention, and attention was bad. Very bad. She needed new clothes.
"You know where I can get any new duds? Preferably a… um… cloak. I should hide my face," she asked the Mastiff, whom tilted its head, tongue flopping out. He was no help, though, and he even made a snort before he stood back up and trotted off back out of the alley. Catherine sighed, shoulders slumping. "Some help you are. Come and wake me up just for pets, but when I ask for a little help, you leave. Worse than my damn Huskies."
Shaking her head, she turned back to the alley, looking for something to help her. She eyed the clothesline, but it was mostly the undergarments or things that looked too big. She supposed Renaissance clothes were kind of puffy, but she didn't want to be drowning in them. She also didn't really want a dress. Sure, it would be a "safe" option, but she didn't trust herself to properly get into one or how to even walk like a lady in the Renaissance would. Now, a man… well, she could walk with a proper gait, or close enough, anyways. She'd need a cloak to pull it off, though… but what were the chances that the clothes would be here in this alley? There wasn't even a place for her to get in.
Or, actually, maybe there was.
Catherine hummed thoughtfully as she eyed the nearby ladder. It was tall enough to reach the high up windows, and those were the ones that were open. If she were lucky—as in, ridiculously lucky—she could get into them and maybe find a bedroom with clothes. It was a long shot, but what else could she do? She certainly wasn't going to go walking out in a sweatshirt, converse, and jeans, although if she didn't find anything that was going to have to become a possibility, which made things difficult. Not to mention she didn't even know where in the past she was. If it wasn't at least England or something… God help her, she would have an even more difficult time.
'Okay. Let's try this out…,' she hummed as she came over to the ladder, testing it slightly. It was only a little rickety, although still very different from the metal ones back home. It would just have to do. At least one good thing about being made of wood was that it was a lot lighter, so getting it to one of the windows was easy enough. She paused, though, glancing around at the buildings; trying to see if anyone had noticed. So far it didn't seem like it, and she supposed the people might be out. Maybe. She didn't consider herself all that lucky, but if the universe was smiling on her after all the crap she'd just been through, then so be it.
Checking one last time, she hurried up as quickly as she felt was safe enough—it was a bit shaky—and peered carefully into the room. It was empty, thankfully, and looked to be a bedroom. There was a bed, what she guessed was a vanity, a dresser, an armoire, and a chest at the foot of the bed. She couldn't hear anyone in the room or further in, and any other sound was from far away, beyond the buildings. She checked the entrance to the alleyway, but no one was coming in or going by right now, so no one would see. Good.
'Here goes nothing. Never thought I'd steal, but… well, it's for a good cause, yeah?' she mused as she hauled herself in, stepping down carefully. The floors creaked some, but not badly. She sighed with relief and hurried to the dresser and armoire. The dresser didn't give much, but she found a treasure trove, so to speak, in the latter. Now she was certain the universe was smiling at her when she found it was mostly men's clothes—pants, shirts, vests, and all. She quickly pulled out the shirt and lamented it was too big for her. Still, it was what she needed, so she slipped off her gray sweat jacket, but left her under-armor shirt on. It was comfy and did help reduce her chest a little, which she figured could be useful. Of course, the shirt was so loose her chest size didn't matter, really, but once she exchanged her jeans for the trousers and tucked the white material in, it fit a bit better. Renaissance clothes were poofy, though, almost oddly so—except in the pants. That, she left be to mull on later when she could afford amusement, and instead looked for some new shoes. If there was a full set of clothes there had to be shoes right?
"Come on, come on, come on," she whispered as she looked around, finding nothing until she got down on her hands and knee and spotted the pair hidden under the bed. She grinned as she got them out and switched them with her converse. She thanked her above-average shoe size, as they made the boots fit well enough, although it did feel weird having them come all the way up her calf. With that, she was just about set. Almost. She needed a hood or something to hide her face. Her clothes might hide her body's form, but her face and hair were a dead giveaway. Not to mention her red locks, pale face, and ridiculous amount of freckles probably weren't common wherever she was. She wasn't taking the chance they were, anyways.
Again, she got lucky. She didn't know how or why, but there was a cloak left on a chair in the room, and she happily picked up the dark cloth and slipped it over her shoulders and pulled the hood up. A quick look in the vanity's mirror showed her a satisfactory reflection—unless someone looked very closely, they wouldn't know she was a girl. Maybe. Hopefully. It would have to do.
'But… what about my clothes?' she wondered, looking back at the items. She didn't have anything to carry them in, but perhaps her cloak could hide them. She knew she couldn't wear them anymore, but she didn't necessarily want to give them up, either. She sighed as she ultimately went with the latter and bundled them so they wouldn't be too conspicuous under her arm and beneath her cloak. It looked okay enough, and so, figuring she was pressing her luck now, she returned to the ladder. After a quick check outside, she returned to the streets and put the ladder back as best she could. No one would notice. Probably.
"Okay… time to do, uh, this… but, uh… where do I…uh, go again?" she murmured, gazing out at the entrance, but unable to move. All the fears and uncertainties came rushing forth in that moment. What if someone did recognize her as a woman? What if they questioned her? What if they arrested her? What if they killed her? How would she get home then? How was she supposed to help whoever? Who was she even kidding? How could she help anyone? She didn't even belong here! It was crazy! All of this was crazy!
Catherine hissed as she felt a sharp pang in the back of her head, clutching at her neck with her free hand. At the same time, there was a warmth growing within her jeans' pocket where the watch was still tucked away safely. The tugging from before returned, only it came back harder and faster. It showed her flashes of the images—the mark and then… a man. The face… it had been blurry before, but now it was clearer. She… knew who he was. Yet, she'd never met him. She knew where to go, too. She knew exactly where to go, and suddenly her fears were no more. No hesitation. No concerns. No worries. Just a destination—a goal.
The heat became a soothing warmth and the tugging was now more of a dull ache; a small reminder of what she had to do. While she, personally, didn't appreciate being forced to do anything, if this meant going home… she'd do it.
Taking a deep breathe, she secured her hood properly, kept her original clothes tucked safely away, and walked right out of the alley into the sunlight. If anyone looked, she didn't notice, and the more she walked, the less it seemed anyone was looking at all. It could have been that there was a crowd out, and she was just another face in it. It could have been because she walked with such purpose that it would have been rude to interrupt her. She supposed the reason didn't matter—all that did was that she made her way about the city, following some path laid before her that she couldn't see, but that she knew was there. It took her through the streets and throngs of people towards a tall, magnificent home—a palace. Flags adorned its front with many windows and intricate designs, and it was certainly was no ordinary place. Nor was the man walking in front of her, heading towards the arched entrance.
Without thinking she reached out, touched his arm, and met his dark eyes, which were set upon his weathered, but strong face. For a moment, she faltered; her mouth and tongue dry as she struggled for the words. The Clock grew warm again, and her strength returned.
"You are… Giovanni Auditore? The assassin?"
Regret was instantaneous, as was the man's reaction. His hand was like a vice on her arm, and she feared he might break it if he didn't kill her in the next few seconds. If anything, she wondered how she was alive with the way he glared so fiercely at her. She was helpless again him, and for the first time in her life, she felt true fear. She'd never thought she might die, but in this moment it was all she could believe would happen to her. He was going to pull a knife from somewhere and somehow end her life in the middle of the day in a city full of people and no one would notice. She would die and never go home—all because she said something stupid.
"Who are you?" he hissed, any weapon he had kept at bay by some miracle. She saw his eyes flash—or was that a trick of the light? She couldn't be sure, and again she lost her words. His tightening grip and slight jerk reminded her, though, and she realized he held her in such a way that it did not seem as threatening as it was. Certainly, no bystander would notice. She was alone in this, and she knew he could stop her heartbeat at any second. She needed to speak. Now.
"C-Catherine. Catherine Wolfe. I-I was sent here—to find you," she replied as quickly as she could, doing her best to keep her voice steady.
"By who?"
"It was—a… a man," she replied, but his gaze only grew fiercer. "A-and the Clock—the thing I have with me!"
"What thing?" he demanded, and when she reached underneath her cloak, he moved as if to strike her. She held her hand back out, though, and shifted her cloak to show her clothes beneath. He glanced at the bundle and then to her, which she took as a means to continue. When he did not react again when she reached, she figured she was right, and pulled the Clock free. She showed it to him, and thought she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"This."
His grip faltered, and she couldn't help wondering if he knew of it; knew what it was; what it could do. If he did, he didn't truly show it as he looked around sharply and pulled her with him.
"Inside. Quickly!" he commanded, and she didn't dare resist. She couldn't. He would end her before that, and so she let him pull her inside the courtyard of the palace and then to a door in front of them. Inside was a darkened office lit only by the slim beams of light coming through the windows. It was well furnished and full of books. A wooden desk sat in the middle, cluttered with documents, quills, and ink bottles. Behind it was a fire place with an ornate decoration—one eerily similar to the one in her family's castle and the image the Clock had shown her. In fact, the center of it was the very same.
The man she "knew" as Giovanni brought her in front of the desk after he locked the door, putting her down into one of the smaller chairs while he came around the other side. There he stood for a moment before putting his hands onto the desk, leaning forward on them.
"Put it on the table."
Catherine set her clothes in her lap and did as he asked. She watched him stare at it, as if dumbfounded and yet… concerned? She wasn't sure, but he looked like a man who might have seen a ghost. She knew he had to know what it was, or at least have an idea. Why else would it have caused him to act this way?
"It's called the Clock," she began, and he glanced only briefly at her before staring at the item again. "The man—I... I don't know who he was… but… he said… he said it's called the Clock. It… controls… time or at least… moves through it. And it… it knowsthings. Tells me things. It's how I knew who you, ah, are."
The man was silent for what felt an eternity before he leaned back up, arms clasped behind his back. He was less furious now; seemingly less like he might kill her. She didn't dare believe the threat was not there, though, and so made sure to hold her tongue—to not make any dangerous moves. She tried, anyways. She didn't know what to expect from him anymore. She thought the Clock would bring her some place safe—to a man who could help her and whom she would help and go home, but this… this was not what she envisioned at all.
"Do you know what this is? This… Clock of yours… if it is what I believe it is?" he asked, and she started to wonder how reliable the device was.
"It's…it…" she tried, but there was no real answer. Not until she felt a small throb and the words came to her and flew from her lips. "Piece of Eden. It's a Piece of Eden."
The man's shoulders seemed to drop, as if some heavy weight were now upon him. He was no less terrifying, though; rather, he was more dangerous. He was a man with a burden, and she had a feeling he had a great deal to protect from that burden. A man like that was perhaps the deadliest of all.
"You said it controls… time? You have made passage? Through time?"
She brought her clothes to her chest, as if it protected her, "Yes… It… I know that… that sounds crazy, but… but I did. I came from the year twenty-fifteen. I found the Clock in my ancestral castle in Scotland—I don't know if that's around yet. I'm not even sure what year it is right now or where I am, but I found it and… it… something… something happened and I was brought to… there… there was a man. It's… It's hard to remember it all, but he spoke and I woke up here... and I… I had to find you. The Clock, it… it brought me here—to you."
The truth was far-fetched, but she needed to tell him. She had a feeling he might understand. Or, no, maybe not understand the truth, but understand the weight of things. She had a time machine. Maybe the concept of time wasn't something inherently common yet, but surely he could comprehend it? Surely he would understand her plight. He knew what the Clock was, didn't he?
"Can it work—can you alter time? Move through it willingly?" he inquired next, his gaze growing darker with each passing moment. Catherine swallowed hard before answering.
"I… No. I don't know how to make it work. The last time I… I cut myself and maybe it takes my blood. I don't know, but… but I haven't made it work—it activates on its own, but it's just been images. It… it tells me things, like I said. It showed me things. So many things. The man… he said it would. He told me it would guide me. Help me do what she asked. I just wish I could remember it all—it showed me so much of the past."
His mouth thinned to a firm crease, "And what did this 'man' ask of you? Who was he?"
"He… I… I can't… it… No, it's… it's coming back… slowly. He was like… a god or—or something. I'm not sure. He spoke strangely and said strange things—something about the Mark of Cain, and the Brotherhood? He said something was wrong, and I had to fix it," she replied, grabbing her head as the memories began another slight throb. She was remembering, however, but it still wasn't fully clear. Patches were missing, but it was there. If she could just reach a bit more, she might have it. For now, she shook her head and looked to Giovanni. "He said I had to help you. If I did then I could go back. To my time. Back home."
Though she was confident in her purpose here, her hope with the man before her was not. His face had only grown darker still as she spoke, and his shoulders seemed more burdened with each and every word that came from her mouth. His eyes moved from her to the Clock, as if trying to understand, or perhaps he already did, and he was only thinking what to do with it—and her.
Sighing for the first time, the man turned away, touching at the white fireplace behind him. It was perhaps a form of comfort, but she couldn't tell. It didn't help the place was so dark; it made it seem as though the walls were closing in on them—or perhaps just her. Certainly, breathing seemed more difficult now. Her heart raced fast, though she wasn't as afraid as before. No, this was an anxiety that ate her like a disease, and made her mind race with uncontrollable fears. So many possibilities, so many outcomes, so many ways to go, and she could think of so few good ones
"Giovanni…?" she tried when he did not speak or move for a long while. His hands had turned almost white as he stood there in his somber silence, and another sigh escaped him as he finally turned back to her. The anger from before was gone, but in its place was something just as fierce, but perhaps that was because she also found a touch of fear. He was afraid, but of what? Of her? No. No, that wasn't possible. The Clock then? Yes, that had to be. It was a powerful thing, but that was why it could help, wasn't it? It was why the "god" had brought her here, right?
"I do not believe you are lying. Regardless if your story is true—and certainly I find it hard to be—you are certain that it is, and so you believe it. What is true, however, is that this is a Piece of Eden, and it cannot stay here," he replied, causing her stomach to drop to the floor. He opened his mouth to speak as he took the Clock into his hand, only to have a shout of pain erupt from his throat instead. He dropped the device immediately, the grooves glaring in a bright light. Catherine could feel a throb through her body—like a pulse. A heartbeat. She could feel the heat of the device even without touching it, and like Giovanni she stared, wide-eyed, at it. They exchanged looks for but a moment before she dared to reach out and touch it, too. It was cool. There was no burn, and she did not cry out in pain.
"It… it hurt you?" she asked softly as she took hold of it, brushing the surface. "I'm… am I the only who can use it then? Did it burn you? Are you alright?"
The man held up his hand, which looked completely fine, "If you are the only one who can wield this, then that is a small relief. The danger remains, and my word stands. Neither you nor this Clock may remain here. It is too dangerous."
Her stomach dropped again, "What!? No! I have to help! It's the only way I can go home! You can't send me away!"
"And what will you do, hmm? How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?"
"I'm nineteen—an adult!"
"But a child still! And what do you hope to do? Can you fight? Do you have our skills? Have you trained in the art of our ways? Do you even know who our enemies are?" he snapped back, and she shrunk at once. She kept hold of a small flame, though, determined to secure her way home.
"I have some skills! Maybe not your—your assassin skills, but I can fight! I know how to take someone down!"
His glare was searing, though, and it silenced her, "Can you take on armed guards? Men who will set a sword to your throat without hesitation? Can you escape into a crowd? Can you hide from all eyes? Can you move without being seen? If you cannot even do these things, then you can do nothing. You are a child given an item of immense power, perhaps deluded by someone into thinking you might help. Perhaps you are right, though—perhaps some 'god' sent you to aid us, but what can you do? As you are now, you are a liability. You are a threat to this Order."
There was a lingering silence, as if words left unspoken. She didn't know what they were, but she supposed that didn't matter. Her hopes were dead. She couldn't go home—not anymore. The person she was supposed to help wouldn't let her, and she would be here forever. Her eyes stung from the disappointment and frustration, but she was not one to burst into tears. Instead, she bit her tongue hard and met his gaze, though hers held no true strength. She was beaten.
"What would you have me do then? I can't go home. I have no home here. I have nowhere to go. You were the one I was supposed to help—the one that could let me go home," she replied, her voice hardly above a whisper as she bit back her sobs.
"You must be taken someplace safer, more secure. A place you may be protected from our enemies, should they know you are here. I suspect they do not, but I will not take that chance. However, moving you will take time. More time than I would like, but there is such a place. You will be safe there until we might understand this 'Clock' better, and also why you are here and what you might do."
Catherine sighed deeply, nodded, "Alright."
"As I said, it will take some time to prepare. You will have to remain here with my family. I would rather you kept far from this place, but I am left with few options on such short notice," he continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You are certain you have no home here, though? No family? Nothing?"
"No. I'm from the future, and any ancestors would be in England or Scotland, but I don't even know all my ancestors!" she shouted back with exasperation, throwing one arm up. She heard him sigh again—she could no longer look at him—and she wanted to think it was one born from pity, but she didn't know anything anymore.
"England and Scotland… yes… you fit the appearance, although your Italian… hmm… but perhaps," Giovanni rumbled, rubbing his chin more, and she looked to him at last, if only to see what he was doing. As she raised a brow, he came around to stand near her and motioned for her to rise. She did as told, and he gave her a proper look over. "You are nineteen… above normal marriageable age, but… perhaps… yes… it could work."
"Um… excuse me…?"
"You will need a story for your stay here. Something to explain your sudden appearance and residence until you may leave. Few of my family knows of my work, nor do friends and my fellow workers. I would rather keep it that way."
She looked down at the Clock, squeezing it; blaming it, "Oh. That… that's smart. What did you have in mind?"
"The daughter of a banker—one I owe a great favor to. You will be the sole child of… hmm… what is your name, again? Catherine, yes?"
"Catherine Wolfe—with an 'e' at the end," she replied, and wondered how he could seem so different. Gone was the furious, deadly man. He was more… well, focused, she supposed. His mind was working so quickly, she wasn't sure she could keep up.
"Catherine Wolfe… daughter of Richard Wolfe. An English Banker. I did work there once. We would have met at a meeting and perhaps he saved me from a terrible action. Perhaps he might even be an Assassin—if only to satisfy those who know. For now, though, we must keep it simple. The best lies are the simple ones," he continued, that mind of his still racing. "You are his sole child, and so he has sent you here while he deals with some business for protection. It is not unheard of for a banker to have enemies or those who dislike him."
She nodded, "So… he… worries for me. He wanted me to be safe because I'm all he has. My mother died—perhaps in childbirth?"
"Yes. Good. You do not know how long you will stay, though; his business will take some time."
"Um… And, ah… he… dressed me like… this… because he did not have a boy?" she tested, knowing her attire was "wrong", but Giovanni shook his head.
"No—not fully. It is also for your protection. His enemies may know he has a daughter. To dress as a boy would hide you better. You—what of your other clothes? Do you have more besides them?"
"No… just these," Catherine replied, holding out her bundle. The man took them, looking at them oddly. She wasn't surprised. He would have never seen or felt such material.
"These… are… strange," he hummed, looking at her.
"They're normal from where and when I'm from."
"You… they should not be seen. We must keep these hidden and obtain new clothes for you. I will keep them here. Annetta will know where my wife and sons' old clothes are."
She winced, "I'll… need to wear dresses."
He smiled slightly, amused, "Indeed. I will allow you boy clothes for the sake of secrecy, but you are a young woman. You will be expected to look the part as well. I assume this, too, is not custom from where—and when—you are from?"
"Er, no," she replied, flushing a little and looked away as she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "Women can wear what they like. A lot like dresses, but I preferred pants and shirts. And, ah… I don't think normal women have the same etiquette, ah, requirements. I'm pretty sure I won't know how to act how women do in this age."
"Indeed… you do not act as a proper lady… no, you are more like my Claudia, which is perhaps not so bad, but will not help you. My wife, Maria, will see to that. She will teach you. You need only hold to this story and not speak a word of anything that has been said in this room."
Catherine looked to him sharply, and the fierce anger returned. Here was the man she had feared and did so again, though knew it was because he had much to protect now. She understood the reasons, and so nodded. Still, he grasped her arm to pull her close; squeezed to show the weight of his word.
"Should you do anything—speak a word you should not, act in a way that compromises you or my family, or endanger us or the Brotherhood… should this be your true purpose and all this an elaborate, well played lie… I will end you."
The redhead swallowed hard and uneasily as she nodded, knowing he would do just that. She just prayed she could uphold his expectations. She would have to check herself so much; make sure she didn't say anything unusual or out of the ordinary… God, help her.
"Good… now, Catherine, you remember your story?" he asked after releasing her arm, and she nodded. "Excellent. Stick to it as best you can. If you must add to it, keep it simple and reasonable. Try to act normal; as though you are the daughter of a banker. My family will be lenient, but they are not fools. I will do what I can to help, as will my wife, but you must hold to your end. For now, though, I will do the talking."
"I'm okay with that… I'm… this is all kind of overwhelming," she admitted, and at last he gave her a small smile. She almost hadn't thought him possible.
"Give it time," he replied, but she could only smile back weakly, eyes to the ground. She felt his hand on her shoulder a moment later, and she found a very different man from before yet again. There was sympathy in his eyes, and she could see the father and husband underneath his formerly cold demeanor. "Catherine… I am sorry for the fate that has befallen you."
"Thank-you. I think. I'm not really sure what this is beyond being stuck in the past, far from home," she sighed, giving him a thankful look, although she was no longer confident about her path. If anything, she was beginning to wonder why her? It didn't seem fair. What had she done to deserve this? Another sigh escape her as she turned her gaze to the door. "Before we go out there… what is the date, and where am I? I think I should probably know that at very least."
Giovanni chuckled ever so slightly, "It is the fifth of July in the year fourteen seventy-six. A most…. unusual day in the city if Florence."
All Catherine could do was give a short, pitiful laugh.
July 5, 1476
Florence, Italy
01 - End
TMWolf - Fun fact time! I was originally going to make the dog a big deal and even name him Ceaser... but scrapped that when I decided it was too silly. Really, I only did it because I love dogs, but ultimately it was just a silly thing that didn't really make much sense, sooo yep. Not doggie for 'Cat ;(
Anyways. You guys maaaay have noticed the date at the end there. If you know the game timeline really well, you'll notice this take almost 7 MONTHS before the actual game starts! This means a few things will be a bit different for our characters, but just small things. You'll see it as you go, and I plan to flesh out our lovely Assassin family, so expect lots of fun times with them.. and one other character that will show up soon-ish. For now, we start off with Giovanni! Sorry if he seems kinda mean here, but in my head, he wouldbe when dealing with something like Catherine and what she has. He has a family to protect and all, and he is an Assassin. I mean, you'd be kinda worried if that happened, too, right? Well, either way, fret not-Giovanni isn't a total mean/grouchy guy in my head canon, so he won't be like this all the time. Just at the moment as he works through things ;)
Right. So. We've met one Auditore, it's time to meet others next chapter and work on getting Catherine settled into life with them! Oh, it won't be easy of course, and it won't be terribly long, either, but a lot will still happen, I guarantee you that! I think you fangirls will appreciate chapter 2 a lot more, so bear with me.. there is some sassy Italians next chapter ;D
As always, feel free to review/PM questions and I'll do my best to answer without spoiling! Some things I will have to refuse to answer because of spoilers, but expect that a lot of things will be answered in the long run-it just may take a long time! I promise I have reasons for (most) everything!
