A/N: This was not my intention. Delaying a chapter never is. I've seen this story through for the last four years, and I have no intention of seeing it be cut short with no explanation, just as another fic that I have not finished. Unfortunately, the last few assignments of the semester nearly sucked all the life out of me, and by the time school was done and my practicum was starting up, I was so drained of my ability to write after spending the semester locked in a sound booth, at least six projects to work on at once. But the summer has now officially begun for me, and along with working for my tuition for next semester, I plan on seeing this as far as I can this summer. The plan remains the same: the next update comes in early August with as many chapters as I can post at once, and will try to remain as such monthly. I know how this story will end after having known it for three years, and will see this through to the bitter end. For now, enjoy this single chapter after a very long wait!

Chapter 3: Asgeir I

February 1789

I needed to sleep. But I couldn't. I rarely slept at all in the last month. And in fairness, the opportunity that we had been in a desperate need for since we got here was now before us. That would keep anyone up.

I wonder how a traumatized soldier would feel if he was cured of his PTSD overnight. Literally overnight. Would he truly feel better? Or would it be as though a bandage was yanked off with a pair of pliers, and he still felt the pain of it weeks afterward?

The soldier was me. For a little over a month, I had been cured completely of the Curse of Shattered Sight, and my immortality with it. But after so long, after so much time of not being able to age, or die, I felt… hollow.

There were things that I did. Things I had seen. Things that I would never be able to forget. And they would haunt me until the day that I died because of how much of it was my own fault.

What would people in my shoes do? Ezio and Altair both made writings in their troubled states. But they were much better writers than me. They made the Creed for what it would eventually become. I myself, I had turned it into a blood-soaked excuse to kill people who didn't deserve it.

I sat there, at a desk in the corner of the War Room. A candle burning down to it's stump beside me, it's mild warmth passing over me. The sky was cloudless that night, and the stars were out. I could feel the cold winter air passing right through the window, and to my bones.

For the last month, I felt there were things I needed to say. Things I needed to write. And for the last month, I had brought out the same notebook and quill, and seen myself leaving the paper blank, sitting there in my haunted uncertainty of what I would write, or what I would do with what I would write.

I was not the same person I had been so long ago. I knew the others were noticing. I was always Asgeir Cormac in the flesh, but deep down, I had become a third Asgeir with a new view of the world.

The first Asgeir was a brother, fully dedicated to the Creed and the well-being of his half-sisters, his last living family. The second was a madman, hellbent on hunting down the witch who took those sisters from him, and cursed him with eternal life, no end in sight to the pain or misery. And the third… who was I, now? I was still not sure of that. All I knew was that my bad habit of acting before thinking had gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past. And now all I seemed to do this past month was think. Think of what would happen to all of us once we made our move. The first move, which we were preparing at the exact moment.

I had sent Zar and Rory out that night. They were to scout Lord Harding's compound, possibly get a guard shift schedule, and find me a clear path into the manor to give me a clear shot to Hans' tax collector.

Matthew was still on his own job, trying to reach out to whatever contacts he could get in touch with outside of Molrum. Hopefully find wherever Troy and Rabbit had been taken to, if there was still a chance that they were alive. I had no feeling in my gut that told me they were still alive. Only a desire to be absolutely sure they were still with us.

Noticing an itch on the back of my head, I reached up and scratched. I still hadn't gotten used to the haircut I had given myself. Anna and Elsa both did what they could to hide their identities, Anna dying her hair black, and Elsa using the Clover. I decided I needed to chip my own part in by shaving my head down to the grain. Half of us would not be recognized on the streets anyways, but better safe than sorry.

I was also not used to the quiet I was feeling. For thirty years I could hear the voices in my head. They tormented me. They haunted me and went on often of how I failed everyone that I cared for. Now they were gone, and the silence only made me feel uncomfortable. It was as though I could only wait for Shay to appear once again, giving me this cocky version of my own sad reality.

I doubted this new revelation of my real name could give us any edge here. The name Cormac had been dead for two hundred years after Asgeir the First killed him. He saw to it personally that every public record that mentioned the Templar Grand Master was destroyed. Of course, the Templars carried their own documents on the Rogue, but he had done enough by erasing everything that was within the hands of the people of Arendelle. But I wondered what I could have been able to do if anyone knew who Shay Cormac was in this world, and what he would have been known for, so many years ago.

The post behind me, right beside the map table was adorned with daggers. Like a sadistic Christmas tree, it had seen it's newest addition three nights ago. We had let Terej go back home to think over our offer. He was gone not two hours before he walked right back into this room, with a pack stuffed with his belongings, and slammed the blade right into the post, bringing the total to nine active Assassins in the war. Nine lives that were likely destined to perish before Elsa sat the throne of Arendelle once again.

I was done lying to myself. I was still twenty-six in the flesh, but my mind was old and worn out. I supposed to myself that this was what Ezio felt in his final days. Hell, he too also felt himself struggling to write down the last few words that he would leave his beloved Sofia. I was tired. I was very tired.

More tired than I have ever felt in my entire prolonged life. But yet, I still could not sleep.

The next morning, Anna was alone in the women's room, which gave me the opportunity I was looking for.

"Asgeir." She exclaimed when she saw me. She had been reading.

"Anything good?" I asked.

She shrugged. "With the library at the palace as big as it was, I've read almost every book that's been published in the kingdom." She held the book up. "Just another boring book of legends. I've read this a bunch of times before."

I chuckled. She had her opinions, and she couldn't keep them to herself. I admired that about her. I recognized the book she was reading, and she was right. Just another book of legends.

Legends… not the truth. I knew the truth. Maybe a quarter of what was in that book happened, but not as the author put it. All those gods, Odin, Frigga, Thor, Sif, they were all real at some point. They were our Precursors. Our Ones Who Came Before. But this kingdom was once Jotunheim, domain of the Frost Giants. And Elsa was their direct descendant.

And me… the visions that the curse showed me showed me much. A lot to process. Some essence of their magic was present within me. Nothing as strong as Elsa's ways with ice and snow. But it was what made me able to withstand Ingrid's magic so long ago. I reckon that I may have been more impervious to the cold than I previously believed, and no one ever noticed. Matthew didn't, my father didn't, no one. I would have to keep it that way. A lot of this wisdom that had been given to me, I would need to use sparingly. What now lay in my head was too much knowledge for one person.

"Something I've been meaning to give you." I said. "Something I've kept forgetting the last month."

"What is it?"

I drew the old blade. A rapier, finely forged by Keif, thirty years ago. Anna looked down at it, and then recognition hit her like a bullet.

"No."

"Anna-"

"The last time I held that sword, I was used as a puppet in Rumplestiltskin's plans to get the Hat. I don't need that sword, Asgeir. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, Anna." I replied. "That's why I'm giving it back to you. I held onto this for thirty years, protecting it as best I could. Because it was the last thing of yours that I had."

I held out the rapier by it's blade, the handle end pointed at Anna. She looked down on it, a somber expression that would look more fitting on Elsa's face painting her cheeks. She had named it Pick, like an ice pick. Though I also thought it looked like an extra-large metal toothpick.

"I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Neither does Elsa." I replied. "The problem is that our enemies don't have an issue with killing us. Some of them would even grin to get their chance with you. You think Hans is going to be willing to negotiate after everything that he has done to our family? He's done everything to this kingdom to cement his claim on the throne, and he's done it while he believes that we're dead. If he knew that we were alive…"

Hesitantly, Anna took Pick with one hand, gingerly taking the sheathe with one hand, and clipping it to her belt.

"You still know how to use it, right?" I asked.

"Yeah. I stab them with the sharp end."

"Attagirl."

Then Anna looked down at my own belt. "But where are yours? The cutlasses you had names for?"

I looked down, completely forgetting what she was talking about. Then I remembered.

"Lost them." I said. "Got captured by Templars who stole them away. Never saw them again. Along with that harmonica you gave me."

Anna looked as though she might cry. But she held back a bit.

"Do you know who they worked for?"

"Yeah." I said. "They captured me under the orders of Queen Regina."

"That Evil Queen from Misthaven? But we saw her back in Storybrooke. Why didn't you ever ask for them back?"

I shrugged, walking over to the window. This window faced the street, where I could clearly make out the stalls of the market below, all under the ever-present eye of at least four guards on the rooftops, rifles drawn.

"I had… I lost a lot of my love for sentimentality during those years of exile." I said. "All that time before everything, before Ingrid, I had been a sentimental person. I was someone who cared deeply for everything and everyone." I turned back to Anna. "And look what it got me. It may have been only five minutes or so for you, Anna, that you were frozen. But it was eternity for me."

Anna looked over at me uncertainly, clutching onto Pick's handle nervously. I knew she wasn't afraid that I would hurt her. She was only at understandable unease.

"And yet, some part of me may have never been able to move on from you and Elsa. I last remember putting that sword into a locker in the Assassin safehouse I was using, and never seeing it again until Storybrooke. William Miles left me a truck with every one of my possessions in tow, and among them was that sword. I didn't find it until after Elsa came back, but then I knew that if she was alive, you had to be too.

"I held onto that blade, at least." I continued. "After they took the harmonica from me, it felt like that was the only piece of you that I had left. And it wasn't a sort of… sentimental sense. It was more like knowing that you'd be truly dead once someone took the sword from me."

"…fair enough."

The door swung open behind us. I turned to see Torren standing before us.

"Pardon me, Your Highness. Mentor."

"It's alright, Torren." I said. "You have news?"

The streets were packed that morning, people selling whatever they could with the town as locked up tight as it was. It felt more like we were under siege, and the one who gave the order for it was our own fucking King. Torren and I could barely find room to move our arms, wading through the crowd like quicksand threatning to swallow us up. From the market stalls set up in the streets below, I could barely make out the massive brick wall that was still in the process of being put up. If one were to try to cross the border into Corona, they'd have to go through a massive fortress built right into the wall, or try to swim around it, and through the massive armada of ships in Sapphire Bay.

"Kevan and Keif have brought back intel?"

"Yeah." He replied. "I was also able to make my way into the compound undetected."

"Very good." I said, stepping out of the way for a man wheeling a cart past us. "Tell me about Harding."

"Lord Henry Harding is only allowing this occupation because of how little bloodshed he wants. If he knew Helga was alive-"

"We both know that can't happen." I shot back. "These people are under the oppression of outside forces. They don't need to turn to Helga to fight for themselves. What hope they have lost, what strength they need, it'll all come from within. They just need the push that we'll give them. They need to know that this kingdom belongs to them."

"Right." He muttered. "In any case, he's been hard pressed into allowing this occupation. His troops consist entirely of a household staff. Only thirty guards, and a brig docked at his private marina."

"I could get past all of them, no problem."

"Right, except you'll be face to face with Hans' troops, too." He explained. He pulled out a scrap of paper. "That's a copy of a letter I was able to get during my recon. It details how many guards will be coming along with Sir Damien, his tax collector. At least fifty guards will be patrolling the grounds alone. That's not even counting that they'll be doubling the number of troops in this town as long as Sir Damien stays here. Three man 'o wars are on their way up here as they speak from Karnard."

"All for his tax collector? And I thought Prince John was a right old prick."

Torren smiled a bit. "So, how will we be handling this…" He glimpsed uneasily as four guards passed by us, then looked down. They paid no notice to us, though. Ironically, it was due to the fact that we were no longer wearing our traditional garb. "Mentor?"

"Well, I'll need a map of the whole place. Where did you get this?" I held up the scrap.

"I found it in one of the guard houses close to the edge of the fort." He explained.

"Can you find me a map or blueprints of the compound?"

"I can try."

I smirked. He would try. "When this is all over, I'm gonna show you Empire Strikes Back."

"What?"

"We're gonna need to look into a distraction." I said, ignoring him.

"Why?"

"The lockdown is too tight, Torren." I explained. "Tighter than a bongo, and yet they're gonna press even tighter onto us for the tax collector. This man is worth a lot to Hans, and so far, his reign has gone by without much resistance."

"We're not killing anyone in the compound, are we?" Torren said, understanding.

"No. We can't afford to knock anyone out, either. I need to get in, take care of the job, and get out, all without being noticed."

I almost said, "kill Damien", but then I remembered we were on a busy street, right in broad daylight.

"Maybe you should borrow the Clover from Helga, just in case."

I glanced over at the boy. He had only just received his hood from me, going from Novice to Assassin by my call. Yet, I was impressed at how he was already proving to me that he had earned that hood. It was as though that hood was all that he needed to get the confidence in himself. I was impressed.

"That's a good idea. But get me a copy of the guard patrols so I can use it accordingly."

"Roger that. As for a distraction?"

"We won't be executing the mission until Monday." I said. "Till then, we'll think of something at the meeting tonight."

"Fair enough." Torren said. "I'll talk to you later, Mentor."

With that, he walked off, leaving me to check in on the rest of the operation.

Rory and Red were running our market stall this morning. It was sad because of what we had to sell. Most of it was stuff we were trying to grow ourselves, apothecary ingredients and such. That was another reason I felt we needed to recruit Terej to the front: he'd know how to triple our product yield before long.

We also had another export that we could have worked with if it wasn't winter: ice, made by Elsa. Ice was still in demand around the kingdom, though obviously not as good as it could have been. Still, people bought what we could provide, using it for medicinal purposes, and for their drinks.

"Mentor." Rory said as I came up.

"How's business?"

"Lousy." Red replied. "Today's not our day."

"It's what we can expect in the long run." I said. "How much Vytropi have we raised?"

"Overall, or today?"

"Overall."

"Overall, including today, about seven hundred."

I shook my head. Filip wanted at least six thousand to enter a deal with him. We all knew that his tavern's business wasn't worth that much for a single percent of his profits. That was our deal: all that money for one percent of his profits, as was the tradition Ezio had placed on us. It was the risk that made it the price that it was, however. This town's neck was one of many that the Southern Isles were wrapping their hands around, and I knew that if there was any chance for us to save these people, we would have to go completely unnoticed. Finance would have to happen in several different ways.

"Red, go talk to Filip. He might have heard if someone needs a favor or two done."

"The board's been empty for three days." She replied.

"In a town suffering this much, someone always needs help." I replied. "And they'll be more than willing to reward us tangibly for it."

She shrugged. "Alright."

"Rory, stay here." I continued. "Hold down the fort, but keep an eye out for anyone needing some sort of help."

"Aye, mate."

With the two of them set to work, I decided to check around. This town was one where troubles and difficulty were plentiful, and everyone was always in need of some help. Red and Terej would be handling small jobs as Novices, but I also needed to make my face and assistance known throughout the town.

It was thanks to Ezio I remembered what I had to do. There were a few spare books from old Assassin teachings at Cormac's back in Storybrooke, and Keaton let me take one written about Ezio. It was merely a copy of a copy written poorly by some fool who only knew him by reputation. Yet, he seemed to know some of Ezio's odd deeds done here and there to help the less fortunate of Roma.

Today it was a woman, sitting on the side of the street, crying into the hem of her skirt. Dirt and mud lay around her, yet the citizens around the street ignored her.

"Frøken. Pardon me, miss."

She looked up at me, shaking coldly as I sat down in the muck beside her.

"You… you speak the Old Tongue?"

It was Norwegian in the Land Without Magic. I had learned it long ago from my father.

"Yes."

"But it is illegal, now." She gasped.

"Let me worry about what the guards will do to me. Don't worry about it yourself. What is the matter?"

She pointed to a torn sack beside her, dirty potatoes spilt out beside her.

"The guards demanded tribute from whatever was in the sack I carried." She sobbed. "When I tried to explain that it was for my starving children, they cut it open and took half!"

I scowled as the woman began to hiccup with hysterics.

"I cannot take this much longer! My children live in constant fear that the guards will take them away as they did the family next door!"

"They shouldn't." I replied, standing and gathering up the potatoes. The sack had a large hole in it, too big for me to even try to salvage it. So I abandoned it, instead, gathering all the potatoes in my arms.

"I don't fear them, Frøken." I said. "And you must not, either. They are lower than rats to attack people who have already submitted to His Majesty. They attack an unarmed woman and call themselves soldiers of Arendelle. Drittsekker."

She wasn't moving. I had to keep talking.

"Where do you live, Frøken?" I asked, politely. "I will help you take what's left to your home."

She miserably stood. "I live a block away." She sobbed. "But why waste your breath on me?"

"It's not a waste." I replied. "All of Arendelle's citizens are worth it. Lead the way. I'll help you carry these."

She sniffled, then wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Thank you, sir." She replied, her frown lightening a little. "What is your name?"

"Connor. Connor Cormac." I replied.

Her eyes widened. "You?! Oh, sir! If I had known-"

"It would change nothing." I smiled. "If you had known right off the bat who I am, I would have still stopped to help. I am here to help in any way I can."

"I beg your pardon, Mister Cormac." She said. "It's only that you and the few others that we see of you around; You're stopping to help where so many others only look the other way."

I smiled as I heard it. What the others thought was a pointless crusade to help others with no gold to show for it, I knew would pay off in the long run. It was what I remembered Ezio doing. He helped all those around Isola Tiberina and made his face known to them, and they, in turn, protected him from the Borgia when he needed it. Admittedly, we needed gold. But we also needed friends.

"They refuse to help because they're afraid of what will happen to them if they help." I said. "Fear is what makes us do terrible things to each other. And you need not be afraid."

The words came out of me. Came out of me like one of the greats before me. I was only saying what I thought Ezio or Altaïr would say to another broken soul. But I was also starting to believe it. And I had to lead by some example.

"May I ask your name, Frøken?

"Maiken, sir." She replied. "I help Doctor Gunnarsen, my brother, around the corner from here."

"And only struggling to get by like so many others in this town." I said, holding up the loose potatoes for emphasis. There was still dirt on them, but they could be cleaned.

Three guards walked past, eyeing me with silent anger as we passed by. I was helping another with her troubles. Apparently, that was a minor offence, now.

"Everyone is choking for air, Mister Cormac." She said. "This town was prosperous with all the trade that went through here from Corona, up to the castle town. Now with the blockade set up-"

"All the trade's been funnelled up to Arendelle's castle town. I know." I said. "But we can manage if we stick together."

Maiken eyed me with wonder. "I've heard much about you on the streets, recently. Though I've never seen you before, having lived here all my life. Who are you, Herr?" She had the faintest of Old Arendelle accents.

I chuckled. "Only a citizen of Arendelle like yourself. Facing outsiders taking our land, I only hope that I can do my part for us to stick together. I came south to avoid the blunt of His Majesty's forces. Looks like I missed my carriage south a while ago."

We turned suddenly, coming up to a door. "Queen Elsa would be rolling in her grave if she saw this kingdom for what it had become." She said, sniffling.

"Aye." I said. "She is."

Maiken didn't hear me, focused on unlocking her door and letting myself and her inside.

"Just over on the counter, Mr. Cormac."

"Please." I said. "Connor."

She nodded, grateful she had found a friend. "Connor. Selvfølgelig."

She gestured to the kitchen, where I walked over, and put the potatoes down. The whole place was barren of any food, which made me only angrier at how much Maiken needed it for her children. She shortly came into the kitchen with a little girl and boy.

"Children, this is Connor Cormac." She said, pushing them forwards. "He was kind enough to help carry our food home for the night, and he'll be joining us."

I smiled but shook my head as I got down on my knee to get on the same eye level with the kids. "I'm truly touched, Maiken." I said. "But I can't stay for dinner. My friends and I have some things to attend to tonight."

"And I must insist…" She said, putting her hands on her hips, giving a motherly smile. "That they will wait for you."

She was a mother by nature, barely any trace of the scared woman left in her then and there.

I chuckled lightly, glancing to her children. "Your mother knows how to get what she wants, I see."

Her children looked over at me with interest as we sat down at the table. "Mommy says you're a great man around here."

I chuckled. "I would never call myself that." I said. "I only help where people need help. And right now, the 'where' is this whole town."

"Indeed." Maiken sighed. "Business has at least been good for my brother, but that's because so many people are being sent to him, beaten to a pulp."

"And he isn't sharing any of his earnings with you?"

"He can't with the surprise taxes from Hans. He's turning them into Lord Harding tomorrow night."

I nodded. Yet another reason to put forth the deed.

While dinner was meagre with how much Maiken was able to put together, it was still delicious. I listened intently to her stories, about her long dead husband and how her brother helped her raise the children afterwards.

"How much was that sack of potatoes?" I asked after dinner, getting ready to leave.

"Two Vytropi." She replied. "It used to be twelve Tryrins, but the blockade's hurt our imports so."

I nodded, taking out my coin purse as I stood back up. I placed four gold Vytropi on the table.

"You and your children have to eat." I said. "Take this. If the guards cause you any more trouble, come find me, or one of my friends at the Twelve Spades the next time you go shopping."

She looked as though I just gave her a whole fortune. She jumped forwards and threw her arms around me.

"Thank you, Herr Cormac!" She cried.

Her children did the same as I laughed, then pulled away.

"This town has been fractured by Hans." I said. "Us as Arendellians must stand together, or not stand at all."

With a polite bow, I headed back out into the wintery air, feeling a bit of a gentle jump in my step. Whatever feelings filled my once frozen and black heart, I now knew was what filled Ezio's own heart as he helped the others of Roma.

Matthew was inside the war room, looking down at the map. Molrum was the second largest town in Arendelle, behind only the castle city. Right now, it was a map of the town, and the surrounding areas between here and the first town in Corona. The wall Hans' men had put up meant a good five hundred yards of bare land, nowhere to hide from the searchlights. There used to be trees and shrubs to hide behind, but all reports gave the same news: cut down to prevent Sprinters from hiding.

"Mentor." He said, looking up from the maps.

"How goes our other problem?"

"Ugh. Mediocre at best." He said. "The blockade is what's caused this to be so hard. It'll only be even more difficult once Sir Damien arrives."

When Terej came to us with the intel about Sir Damien coming, I knew we had to book immediate passage out of the city to Corona. But so far, all public reports had said that only a few spare individuals had been permitted to leave Molrum, but none of them had gone to Corona. Only the whole of them had gone north.

"I have a friend, Sam." Matthew mused. "Smuggles cargo and people for a living. He would have been perfect to take us across the border into Corona. But he'll be leaving tonight to head back north. It's even more difficult for him because he can't legally show his face on the street."

"We can't leave until after Damien is dead. And we can't wait for him to come back when the deed is done. He won't do." I replied.

"What a shame." Matthew tsked. "He gave me a reasonable price of three favours."

"…maybe we find our own way across?"

He looked up. "How?"

"We can't afford to pay any other smugglers to get us into Corona. No one could, even if they somehow had the coin. They'd be paying thousands of Vytropi to take them across, and there's still no guarantees that they would make it across the field on the other side of the wall. So, we'll have to do it ourselves. Somehow."

Matthew legitimately laughed at that idea. "You'd be insane to even try. This is a town of fewer than five hundred people present, and it's still just as wound tight as any other city here. Hans wants everything to run according to his system."

"This town still outnumbers the guards, three to one." I replied. "We'll charge the gate if we have to."

"May I speak freely, Mentor?"

The nature of our conversations had changed. When he was Mentor, Matthew looked down on me like a frustrated parent looked down on their bratty child. But now, he held a kindlier presence, which was unlike any I had seen from him before. I would almost find it hard to believe, but I think he was actually proud of how quickly I took charge.

I smirked at Matthew. "I welcome it."

"We spend a month of planning and waiting, and you think we can just 'charge the gate'?"

"Maybe. Or maybe something will turn up before Sir Damien gets here."

My former Mentor shrugged. "Fair enough. Cross the bridge when we get to it?"

"Yeah. But remember that we still need to cross it, and have our plan once it's within eyesight. Right now, it's leagues away."

Matthew grinned. "There's your father's teachings coming to mind."

"I know. Alarming, isn't it?"

"Not at all." He grinned. "I've missed him."

"What about the underground?" I asked. "Any contacts of yours outside Molrum reach out?"

"Eh… two. Corona has an active Thieves' Guild working, but their Guildmaster Corbin has only been in his position for six months after their last one Peggy was killed on the job. He recognized my name from some of his predecessor's letters. He's friends with Queen Rapunzel through her husband Eugene. He's willing to meet with us if we can get to him.

"Then there's Captain Brovold. He was one of Elsa's Rear Admirals. He managed to escape to Corona and pleaded immunity from His Majesty. Hans can't arrest him while he stays outside Arendelle and the Southern Isles. Now he's working a black-market shipping route between Corona and Misthaven. I didn't mention that his Queen is alive by your discretion. If we meet with him, he can at least get us where we need to go next."

"Thanks, Matthew. So, we need to get to Corona after all of this, it sounds. Meet with both Brovold and Varin when we get there."

"Aye." Matthew said. "Preparations as best we can before the tax collector gets here."

"One more thing: how much are you estimating him to walk away with?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow and then opened a book close to the table. It appeared to be a ledger.

"I've been tracking our accounts since we returned. And with what knowledge I had about the Arendelle Treasury, I was able to chalk up some calculations as you requested. With as much as I was able to estimate in Molrum's income, I'd say Sir Damien should be returning to Hans with no less than a hundred and fifty thousand Vytropi."

I grinned.

"What are you thinking, Asgeir?"

"Only what concerns the one who will be shoving a blade into Sir Damien's neck."

The last month had seen nightly meetings at the war room after the tavern had closed for the night. Every night, the Twelve Spades held its last call at midnight, and every night after that, we came to our meetings.

I sat at the head, Zar to my left, and Rory to my right. Everyone else was free to pick their seats accordingly. Now Terej sat in his burly glory, a tight-fitting Novice Assassin hood now present over him.

Red sat there too, also a Novice. After much discussions with me, and her considerations into what sort of life she would be leading, she had made her decision to take the hood. Or rather, treat her infamous hood as her own Assassin hood.

"Let's go through our day's events, Assassins. Red, Rory?"

"Made a decent sale today after yah left." He said. "Add another fifty Vytropi to the total." He gave a sly grin to the whole lot of us. "Though, it ain't a contest."

Red held up a pouch, grinning. "One hundred more Vytropi, O'Dre." She placed it on the table. "Filip had a few people who needed letters delivered past the checkpoints into the other district."

Anna looked uneasily at Red. "You could have been killed going through!"

"But I didn't." She replied, smirking. "Guards made me a bit of trouble going in, but going back out was no problem since they recognized me. Easy enough to promise them a small cut of what I made." She grinned at Rory. "It ain't a contest, though."

I shrugged. "Whatever helps. The clients gave you that much for the letters?"

"Yep." She said, smiling. "A little less since I had to give the guards that small cut, but they think I only got pocket change for the job. I handed them a few coppers."

The Irishman squirmed in his seat. Maybe he just didn't like getting shown up by a newcomer. I respected that. Friendly competition might breed better effort between us.

"We work hard for the next few days, guys, and I promise you our funds will have us set for the start to our fight." I said. "Meanwhile, Sir Damien will be here in two more days, and when he does, we'll be ready to move."

"Move?" Anna asked. "We're going?"

"It won't be safe to stay here once I kill him." I said. "His death is meant to send a message to Hans, so once he gets word of that, we need to be long gone. Lucky for us, Matthew has been able to get in touch with some of his contacts in Corona."

"From there, we'll be able to determine our next course of action." He said. "Sam would have been perfect to take us south, but he left tonight. He won't be back in Molrum for a few weeks."

"Aye." I said. "Now onto other business. Our missing persons. Any news of Troy, Rabbit, Sven or Olaf?"

Matthew shook his head. "The best I can estimate is the prison camps in Sript. That's where Brovold said most of the Undesirables were taken by Hans."

"Fair enough. If they're anywhere, that'll be the best place to start. We'll look more into that when we get to Corona."

Zar nodded. "Other than that, there's no other news to be brought forth. We're still scoping out Lord Harding's manor to plan the infiltration."

"It'll get done, but it has to be of the utmost delicacy." I said. "Meanwhile, we need to start planning our escape out of Molrum. We can't stay here much longer after I kill Sir Damien, because once the guards get wind of his death, they'll send for Hans, or one of his brothers."

It was nothing I hadn't said to my Assassins for the last few days. What I hadn't told them was the personal reason why I wasn't going to kill anyone except Damien.

Of course, discretion had to be present. But I had also spilt blood before. Too much of it. Innocent blood to go with all the corrupt blood that I had spilt. And there was no way to excuse it. If I were to atone for my sins, I had to bring about a more measured hand than any Assassin before me. Altair, Ezio, even Connor. They all killed guards who worked for the Templars. Guards who maybe deserved it. But there were plenty of those people among them who were only doing their job. Some of them probably didn't even know about the Templars, or their sins. To truly atone, I would have to stay my blade from more than just the flesh of the innocents. To wash out the blood from my blade and my hands, I would have to let it dry over time on an unused blade.

Monday night came.

I found myself at the war table, alone. This might happen a dozen times over in the war to come. Every prince would have to die, and all of them by my hand. But just as regular as the deed, was the meditation that every Assassin made on it before it. They were about to take a life, and that meant a great deal to anyone.

So many of my weapons laid scattered on the table. My scythe, Shay's air rifle, my flintlocks, everything. The only thing I now carried was the only thing I would really need: my Rope Blades. By accordance with the old tradition of Assassins, I would go in armed only with those.

In the corner, set up in it's position as it had been hidden back at Cormac's, I saw the Armor of the White Reaper. In a letter my father had left behind for me, he explained that it was what gave me and my ancestors the name that so many people of the Land of Magic feared. To the Assassin who wore it, it provided them with total protection from death. It was what I used in my final battle against Ingrid a month ago.

But there was something my father had not told me about the armor. Something that I had realized only after I delivered the killing blow to Ingrid, and which now made me certain I could not wear it unless it was absolutely necessary. Only absolute death could pay for absolute life, in the bargain that the smith who forged the armor made with Hades. If I didn't take enough lives to satisfy him, the armor would consume my own soul, and kill me in return.

It was this realization, the promise I had made with myself, and the knowledge that any noise of unrest with the monarchy would send Hans south to our location made me decide to only go in armed with my hidden blades, and to kill only one target, sparing everyone else.

I had lost the right… was it a right? No, I had lost the justification to take lives beyond those that I had sworn to kill. I could have tried to kill only Regina so long ago, but instead I spared her after killing hundreds of her guards. I could have only tried to kill Maloy, but I took the lives of his wife and girls to go with him. And Ingrid… Sydney Glass betrayed the entire town for his freedom by helping her, and I tortured him before putting him out of his misery. He begged me to stop after I cut his first finger off. After the drill, he started begging me to stop his life. He had to wait an agonizing fifteen minutes before I granted his request.

The deeds I had performed would have to be atoned like no other soul before me. And even after what would happen in the war to come, I still could not be sure that I would be able to wash out the blood from my soul.

Two blades. One target. Hundreds of lives to be spared, and all to send a message to the King. This was going to be the greatest odds I had ever faced before.

Yet, I held one thing in my hands. The Cormac Templar Ring. It looked like any other Templar ring, with the red cross and the grooves around the band. But it belonged to Shay, and to Asgeir the First, passed down through the line of Cormac Assassins. After I found it, given to me by Matthew, I chained it to the finger guard on the air rifle. My own sort of way of honoring the only Templar I ever found myself agreeing with a few times.

Assassin and Templar propaganda both declared that Shay was a ruthless traitor that hunted down all the Colonial Assassins and drove Achilles Davenport underground. His ghost used to haunt me. I reckon it was a hallucination of the curse of Shattered Sight. But no longer. Some part of me almost missed him, and his taunting. The same part of me that felt disconnected and disoriented after being freed of everything.

About to go into a compound, kill a tax collector, and likely steal a good part of the funds he was taking…

"Hey, Father." I muttered down at the ring. "I know I'm not much of a praying person. I just don't know what I'm doing, now. More than half of the life that I've lived, I spent tracking down one target, and now I have to kill every single Templar that's infected our home with their toxic way of life."

There was no response from the ring. I didn't expect there to be. It was only a piece of silver, after all.

"I now know why Hans and the Templars are here. Maybe there's some sort of… plan that they have. A real plan for this place. But they wouldn't have invaded if we didn't give them the invitation. It was me who brought them here. They saw the Assassins walk right into Arendelle like we owned the place, and it was a slap in the face to provoke them to war with us." I paused. "Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe the Southern Isles only invaded us because they wanted to hurt Anna and Elsa for what they did to Hans. I may never know. What I do know is what I have to do. What I have always had to do."

I looked down at my Rope Blades, and extended them.

"One more time." I said, speaking to the blades like an old friend.

The air was clear that night, no trace of any snowflakes or stormclouds in all directions. I could not afford to be spotted on my way over, but some traditions had to be followed as I wore my old Arendelle hood. Off the top of my head, I couldn't remember if there ever a job as delicate as this in Arendelle's history of Assassins. One where I couldn't kill, knock out, or even be seen by anyone except Sir Damien.

Truthfully, I thought that maybe there could be a chance to go through this and kill some guards. But I wanted to try something new. The most measured approach I could think of: only kill those who absolutely needed to die.

Molrum was a small town, but tonight I saw no less than five guards on the street at a time. All Preparing for the arrival of Sir Damien, who's ship I could spot from the roof.

Knowing I would be spotted if I stayed put for too long, I ran across the roofs towards the marina, before jumping down to a balcony close to the top. A large garden brush lay below, and I took my position within.

Sure enough, the toll of the bells signalled the arrival of a massive escort leaving the ship. A handful of Lord Harding's household guard stood before the dock as at least thirty guards walked down off the ship, and onto solid ground.

A pompous looking man with a thin moustache and slicked-back brown hair sniffed as he came down from the ship. He was dressed much like how Hans was the day of Elsa's coronation, even down to the epaulettes. A captain of Lord Harding's guards stepped up.

"Sir Damien." He said. "A pleasure." He gave a quick bow, then held his hand out to shake.

Damien took it, looking around. "This is Molrum?" He said.

"Yessir." The captain said. "Lord Harding is waiting for you with the money."

Damien didn't appear to be listening, still looking about the town.

"Yes… well…" He said, unimpressed with the town. "Let's see what he has gathered for His Majesty."

People never look up. The captain present and Sir Damien never noticed me. But the same could only barely be said for the guards stationed on the rooftops.

There were at least four guards to a rooftop, and several times I had to jump down to the nearly empty streets, ducking into abandoned stores and hiding behind carts to keep up with the squad of guards and their escorts.

It was easy to discern the household guards with the Southern Isle troops, even with the clear differences in uniform. They were split right down the middle, with the small handful of Molrum guards clustered with their captain, and the battalion of troops with Sir Damien.

I was expecting Damien to be much more vocal with his distaste of Molrum. It came a bit of a surprise to see that he was not as much of a snob. But the reason that he was here changed nothing. He was still of Hans' inner circle, and his death would send a message.

Terej had told me what he had seen of Sir Damien. He was at the meeting where he was dismissed as the Royal Gardener, where only Hans' closest generals and admirals were present. From what knowledge we were able to gather in Molrum, Hans rarely came out of the palace. If he appeared to the public, it was at court within the walls of the palace, guarded by at least twenty guards in the entire room. Only those who were privileged to deal with Hans directly were his closest friends. And yes, even snakes had friends.

The property that held Lord Harding's manor was on a hill overlooking the entire town. Using what little cover I could get out of the emptied streets, and all the guards, I followed the group to the estate, where they went through the gates before they were locked behind them. Luckily, I knew where to go next from here.

One hidden part of the fences that surrounded the estate had two iron pickets pried off. Torren had noticed this during one of his scouting missions and had made sure to tell me. Sure enough, it hadn't been noticed by the guards, and it made it a lot easier for me to climb over the fence, and into the lot.

Immediately, I saw a group of five guards walking in my direction. The space between the closest building and the wall of the property was very narrow, so there was a chance that they didn't notice me. But I still lurched right into the closest patch of tall grass as soon as I landed.

"Hey!"

One of the guards looked up in surprise. "What is it?"

"I thought I saw something." The first one said, walking over in my direction.

I noticed a storage shed for tools up against the building. It was clearly sleeping quarters or something of the sort for guards. I was glad I had hidden here, and not in the shed, giving me nowhere to move if I had been seen.

The guard began to walk slowly forwards. He may have seen me jump from the wall, so I had to move slowly, and no sudden movements. Everything had to be executed with a precision that I was sure no Assassin had ever accomplished before me.

The guard walked over, eyes narrowed in curiosity. What had happened just then? What had he seen? He raised his rifle, and stirred the brush a bit.

If it had been a bird, the brush would have shaken more as it flew off. So the guard looked one more time as I remained as still as a rock, taking as much care as I could not move another inch.

"What is it?" His friend repeated.

The guard kept looking, but then turned around. "Dunno." He replied. "Might have been a rat, but it's gone now."

I let out a silent breath of relief as I sat back down in the brush. The guards walked away, after which I unfolded the map that had been made for me, and began to look about my options.

Opportunities were almost always about for an Assassin. And the key was in finding every one, and using the best one to exploit the situation.

Luckily, there was one advantage that I held here, regardless of how many guards swarmed this manor like wasps. The entire village had been on lockdown for months. There had been a few instances of unrest among the populace, but overall, nothing had been so drastic and so threatening to his regime that Hans had felt the need to do anything to provoke them. Therefore, no one had any idea of what was about to happen. Nor who would truly be to blame for it.

The guard quarters I stood in the brush beside was directly across the lot from the manor. I would have to move faster than ever if I were to manage to catch Sir Damien without being spotted. I couldn't afford to take the ground route to the manor, because there would be too many guards between me and the building, and a whole winding route through to the room where they would count the money. Top this off with the fact that Lord Harding and Damien were out of range from my Sight, and I needed to get to the manor as quick as possible.

I looked up at the edge of the roof of the guard quarters. It looks to be strong enough to hold my weight, but I hadn't tried using my Rope Blade like that in ages.

With nothing to lose, I turned the symbol on my blade, then raised my wrist, and tensed it.

The blade's mechanism triggered, but instead of the blade simply extending like a traditional Hidden Blade, it shot completely out of the mechanism, trailed by a steel rope wound up inside. Once the blade hit the edge of the roof, I tensed again, this time the rope winding back up again, lifting me up into the air.

I had forgotten how the rush had felt, using that blade. Keif had designed it special from plans I had found from a Templar engineer so many years ago. He and I agreed that the next order of business with him would be to gather up the resources to make the blades standard for the Arendelle Assassins.

I could clearly see the manor from here. But the distance was too far for me to launch the blade again, and try to zipline over there from here. So I had to start running. Running with at least three guards on the surrounding roofs.

I looked around, but not one of them had noticed me yet. I didn't think about it. I didn't wait. I just ran, and jumped for it, flying off into the air.

It was about at the peak of my jump that I realized what a bad idea this was. Because I had jumped thinking there was another building within reach, and there wasn't one for me to land on. I began to fall, looking down to see the ground rush up to meet me. My gut clenched, and I shot my wrist out again, the rope shooting out and embedding into the wall of the manor. Before I knew it, I had clenched my wrist again, and found myself pinned up against the wall, my feet flat on it with my wrist buried into the wooden grains.

"Shit…" I groaned. "You fool, Asgeir! Don't ever do that again!"

I was scolding myself, but I would later realize that either choice would have been the right one. Had I not jumped so quickly and recklessly, I likely would have been spotted right on the rooftop, with guards around me in ever direction, making me an easy target. But now I was on the edge of the manor, ready to start looking for Damien.

I took a breath, and focused. Listening and looking for anything through the walls around me.

I could see Lord Harding and Sir Damien through the walls. They were on their way to the other side of the manor on the top floor, the same floor that I was outside of. With luck, there would be a window for me to climb into.

I had climbed horizontally before. I was just a lot more work, and a lot slower to do. But I had no time to waste. I hurried and began to make my way over in the same direction they were, while I listened in on their conversation.

"And how is our King Hans?" Lord Harding asked.

"He is very busy with affairs back North." Damien said, curtly. "Strange you claim to care so deeply for our King, yet you waited until now to ask me."

"I didn't wish to impose anything, Sir Damien." Harding replied, thought with a bit of anger hinted in his voice. Well earned, as Damien was not giving him an easy time with the courtesies. "I must admit, I was expecting him to come down here, since he was the one who dropped the taxes on my citizens with such speed."

"But then you must understand the circumstances, too." Damien said. "His Majesty knows more about the cost of this occupation than anyone else. Molrum and the other coastal towns like it need blockades to ensure the security of Arendelle's citizens. They need troops, and they need rations to feed those troops. All of which I mentioned cost money. So where is it to come from?"

I scowled. This was not real protection, it was submission. And even if it was what he claimed it to be, no one in Arendelle asked for such a degree of it that they had to pay for it themselves. I kept climbing along the building, listening in as their conversation brought them to a hallway along the edge of the building, right on the other side of the wall that I was clinging to.

"Indeed." Harding replied. "Valid points, Sir Damien. My study will suffice for you to count the money, I presume?" He said, turning the corner down the next hall, to a room with a window. Perfect.

"It will." He replied. "Where have you left it?"

"My clerk is bringing the money here as we spe- ah! Here he is!"

A small man with a large chest in his arms walked down from the other end of the hall, coming up to Damien and Harding.

"Hand it over." Damien ordered. Then he turned to the guard escort that had been following them. "I will be out in ten minutes, no more, no less. Something has happened if I leave earlier or later than that. Understood?"
"Yessir." One of the guards replied, taking out a pocket watch, and eyeballing it. He was checking for what time it was right then and there. Quickly, I took my own watch out, and began to count.

With that, Damien opened the door to the study. He locked the door behind him, carrying the chest over to the desk. I fully expected him to open it and start counting, but instead, he sat there, and did nothing.

I was deeply confused, but wasted no time. I had a job to do. I climbed as quick as I could to the window, and began to slowly open it.

Damien remained sitting there, doing nothing. Why he wasn't doing the one thing that he was sent here to do made no sense to me. Especially since he said that he was only going to take ten minutes to do so. What did it all mean?

I had my plan. He wasn't expecting me. He had his back to the window, waiting for something.

I didn't even give him the chance to turn around. I partly expected him to anticipate me jumping him, so I wouldn't give him the chance to react. I saw him perk up when I opened the window, but shot my Rope Blade right to the back of his neck.

He choked in shock, which I then followed by climbing rapidly into the window, yanking him backwards from the desk towards me, and then lowering my other blade down into the front of his neck.

Sir Damien clutched his throat, gasping and straining to get a last breath through to his lungs.

"What have you done?!" He cried. "Who are you?!"

I grabbed him by the shirt collar. "I'm only a blade wielded by the people of Arendelle." I whispered. "I'm the White Reaper."

"No!" He gasped. "Assassin! I have done nothing!"

"You pried hard earned gold from the citizens of a kingdom who never asked for your presence. This entire town is choked by a blockade around it from all sides, yet you call it protection."

"It is!" He cried. "Elsa never put down order on her citizens! They were always free to do what they wanted, and it left her country in anarchy! We are simply picking up the pieces left behind by her death." He spat up at me. "My death gives you nothing to gain, Assassin!" He snarled. "When His Majesty finds out I have died, he'll put this shithole town to the torch!"

I raised my fist, and stabbed his neck three more times. "Wanna bet?"

But Damien didn't respond. He couldn't. He had already died from those quick stabs.

I bowed my head with regret, realizing what I had just done. It was a mistake to stab him again. He was beaten, and I still lashed out in anger. He was the only one I had killed here, but it was clear to me that I still had a lot more work to teach myself as well as my Assassins.

I pulled his glove off. I didn't expect to find a ring there, but it came as a welcome surprise to find the unmistakable silver ring with grooves and the red cross. He was a Templar. That at least relieved me of some of the guilt that had begun to plague me at that moment. Another chain of rings for me to start.

And for good measure, I did what Matthew suggested I did: pin the crime on another. It took a lot of his time, but he was able to forge a letter that would give the exact culprit Hans would love to blame when he heard about this. I simply needed to plant it on Damien.

I place it into his coat pocket, and then I pulled my feather out of my pouch and gently wiped it over his neck. It was time to start another tradition again. "Kaller det skatt, tolererer ikke tyveri. Hvil I Fred."

I searched Sir Damien's pockets, hoping I could get more information. Sure enough, there was a letter with Hans' personal seal stamped to it. Broken, so it meant that he had read it.

Sir Damien,

Three months of our reign has seen a complete submission from much of Arendelle, and acceptance to my rule. But there are still those who show resistance, so we must hurt them where it counts. They will be so much easier to control if we convince them that their lords accept us.

Molrum is to be the first to receive surprise taxes by my command. But it must be framed so that it is under Lord Harding's orders. They will hate him for it, and he will not be able to resist with the petty force at his own command. However much he is able to scrape together for the Southern Isles is not important, so don't bother counting what he gives you. This is only to send a message to him and his citizens of who is in control, and who protects them night and day.

May the Father of Understanding Guide You.

King Hans, First of My Name. King of the Norse, Lord of the North, and Protector of the Realm

And then it all made sense to me. The people of Molrum had scraped together what little gold they could muster for the sudden change in power, and Hans knew it would never be enough to meet the demand that he would have for them. But he didn't care how much money they managed to produce. Only so long as it would be enough to tell the people what he needed them to hear: he was their king, and resistance of any kind would be met by his boot pressing down more on the people.

I checked my watch. Five minutes left to count the gold. Hurriedly, I checked the chest on the desk. Filled to the brim with paper rolls of gold coins, I counted at least a good hundred and sixty thousand gold Vytropi from what I could see out of the rolls. That was only what a quick glance offered me, meaning there had to be much more than that. But what could I do?

I didn't even think. I only began to look around the office, gathering up what small items could fit into the chest, giving some weight to it. Following that, I quickly piled roll after roll of coins into my satchel. It was tedious, and I knew it would be heavy to carry myself. But the gold did not belong in the hands of Hans or the Templars. As well, now I knew that the only reason he had taken it from the hands of the citizens of Molrum was to show them who was in charge.

The chest was now weighted down with whatever I could find in the office, and Sir Damien's body was now propped up in the corner in a chair. After I knew that everything was ready, I pulled out the Six Leafed Clover, slipped it around my neck, and tapped it.

I felt my form shift into that of Sir Damien's. When the time ran out, I opened the door and looked out into the hall.

"Lord Harding." I ordered. "Come back in here and close the door behind you. We have to discuss the amount you brought us."

Groaning, the old lord went inside as I looked to Damien's guard.

"Two minutes." I said. "Two minutes and then we can leave."

"Yessir." The guard replied.

Lord Harding turned his back to me, closing the door behind him and leaving everything open for me to confront him.

I extended my blade and pressed it against the back of Lord Harding's head. Most of my clothes had changed with the magic of the clover, but my blade was still there, underneath my sleeve.

"Don't turn around." I ordered, quietly. "Look to your left."

Harding did as he was told, suddenly quivering with surprise as the breath escaped his mouth, noticing Damien's dead body in the corner.

"What did you do to him? Who… what are you?"

"Arendelle's last hope." I replied. "You can't take a stand against Hans. You don't have the men."

"You don't either." Harding replied. "No one does. Over two hundred thousand men make up the Southern Isles' armies. And that's only the smallest estimates"

"But numbers are nothing." I replied. "Not if you have the conviction. Not if you have an idea."

"There is no point to it." Harding said. "Queen Elsa is dead. Who can rule Arendelle?"

"She lives, Milord. She and her sister. They are alive in this town, and for obvious reasons, you will not be able to see them."

Harding's breath escaped his chest again, but this time with a hint of relief.

"Thank the gods." He said. "What do I do?"

"Wait for my signal." I said, slipping a parchment to his hand. Drawn with the Assassin insignia.

"But you're just one loyalist?"

"Now we are two..." I said, retracting my blade.

"… we?"

I smirked, then pushed him aside, picking up the weighted chest and carrying it to the door.

"Is everything alright, Sir?" The guard said.

"It is now." I sneered. "Lord Harding forgot to add his share to the taxes."

The guard glared at the lord. "You think our King is some sort of idiot?" He snapped.

"Leave him." I ordered. "He's not worth the trouble." I hefted the box and began to walk down the hallway. "Escort Lord Harding to his chambers and ensure that neither him nor his men leave your sight until dawn."

This was all part of my plan. Ensuring that no one would be anywhere close to Sir Damien's body by the time he would inevitably be found would ensure that Lord Harding be not arrested for something a renegade had done.

Lord Harding only looked down in concern. "What do you plan on doing with my citizens' money?"

I realized that he was talking to me, not Sir Damien. Luckily, he knew to word it carefully so as not to blow my cover.

"The hard earned gold of Arendelle's people is now in my hands, Lord Harding. And I will see that it is put where it belongs."

One of the guards sniggered. "He means in King Hans' hands, you fool! Or wasn't that obvious enough?" He turned to me. "As you were, Sir. Lead the way."

I grinned, and did so. I thanked my lucky stars I remembered exactly the route that we took to get here.

The Clover was what helped me the most in this deed. No other Assassin had used such a tool before, and I now understood why it was called such a thing: it gave unmatched luck with this ability to hide in plain sight like no other. There was no suspicion whatsoever from the guards as we walked back to the ship, still anchored at port.

"I will be in my cabin until dawn." I ordered the guards. "And I do not wish to be disturbed. Understood?"

"Yessir." They said, no hesitation.

The body was something else that I would leave to its own to be found. Damien's men outnumbered Lord Harding's at least three to one on the property. Every man that belonged to him would be accounted for, so that would mean there would be no way for Hans to rightfully accuse Lord Harding of being the culprit. And Hans would absolutely take the bait that I had left on the body for him to find.

I waited half an hour in Damien's cabin. I kept the Clover on, even then, knowing one of his men might still disobey the order to not disturb him, and barge in. This assassination had gone miraculously by without a hitch, executed with precision that would make Ezio proud. Not a single guard knocked out or murdered, only the target. I did not intend for anything else to happen.

After I waited long enough, I gathered my things, along with the stolen money, left the chest with what gold I would leave alone, and opened the window to climb back down into the water.

The searchlights the blockade had set up in Sapphire Bay were much further out in the water. While it was freezing outside, still at the peak of winter, I knew that there was a blazing fire waiting for me back at the inn. I had to hurry.

The waves lapping against the ship began to pick up in intensity, and looking down, I noticed that it would then be the best time as any to jump.

It was worse than how I imagined it would feel. I was still shaking with intensity like no other by the time I climbed back into the window. I fell down onto the hard wooden floor, and felt myself sprawl out.

"Fun night?"

I looked up, gasping with frost on my skin. I felt as though I was still with the frozen heart as Matthew walked up, offering a hand to me.

"Requiescat In Pace, Damien." I replied, taking it.

Matthew grinned. "One down, an army to go."

I nodded, looking back towards the portraits that lined the walls. Every one of them would have to die before Arendelle could see peace again. Every noble, every Prince of the Southern Isles, they would all die.

"Pack everything up." I ordered. "We leave tomorrow at dusk."

"Aye." Matthew replied. "By the time Hans realizes what we have done, we'll be in Corona."

I glared up at the bastard's portrait. His arse was warming the throne that never belonged to him. He'd likely staple it to the throne if he were so inclined. I'd pry it off with my blades in due time.

All in due time…

The dawn of a new day was rising on the town of Molrum. I had not left the War Room since I had returned. Soon, the rest of the Assassins would be waking up, ready to gather their things as we would attempt the escape into Corona. Now was as good a time as any.

Sitting back down at the desk, I took out the notebook. Ever blank as the day that I had gotten it, I placed it, and a quill and ink down on the desk.

I didn't know what to write exactly. But after a month of reflection, I began to understand that that was completely normal for an Assassin. I just did what I felt was natural, putting my words down on the parchment.

I, Asgeir Daniel Cormac, being of sound body and mind, hereby begin my accounts that led to the downfall of the Templars of Arendelle, and the actions that I took to ensure its freedom for eternity. No one but the Assassins will know the truth, for in much wisdom, will lie much grief.

Yes, that was a good start. And I knew what to say next. I began to lower the quill against the parchment again, when a spectacular noise rattled across the morning town.

Bells. Low bells that began to toll across the town. I knew for whom they tolled for. The one who had lost more than almost all of the gold he was sent to collect from this town.