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June 1798 – Off the Coast of Malta

"My Quartermaster delivered my results." Napoleon said to Arno as they lounged about in the Captain's quarters of one of the ships bound for Egypt. Arno picked his head up off of the couch he was laying on to respond.

"And?" He asked turning himself into a sitting position, still dressed in his night clothing from the night before.

"The calculations for utilizing the facilities on Malta under the Knights agreement isn't feasible. It would take weeks to resupply, essentially put us in a perpetual state of resupply here. All while leaving us open to an attack by the British Fleet." Napoleon rambled on, pacing, while tapping the folded calculations in his hand.

Arno knew full well what this meant, there was going to be a ground invasion on Malta to resupply the ships. The Knights of Malta, had tied Napoleon's hands on this one. Had they just agreed to let as many ships as possible dock.

"These 'Knights of Malta' are they affiliated with your lot at all" Napoleon asked, obviously grasping at straws hoping for a diplomatic solution to a problem like this so early in the expedition.

"Afraid not, if anything they're associated the other way...with a name like 'Knights' of Malta." Arno said standing up "I suppose I should go ready my armor then?"

Napoleon's head turned towards him, "Be ready by tonight. I'll be sending you in ahead on the main body of forces." Arno's response didn't require words, he simply gave the commander a nod as he exited the cabin to go and prep his equipment.

Since the Revolution and rejoining the order quite a few changes had been made to the equipment Arno carries with him into battle. He still carries a mastercrafted rapier and wears the signature Assassin hood, but the similarities stop there. Two six barrel pistols to double his ability to fight his way out of a sticky situation. The rope dart, an Assassin favorite, finally found it's way to the French Brotherhood.

Then there was his Phantom Blade, while still the same in concept it was built with stronger materials allowing a more power per shot thus increasing the range. He acquired a second from the Brotherhood armory and now wore them on both wrists. Despite the Phantom Blade's ability to toss knife sized 'darts' at lethal speed and range, Arno took to wearing several throwing knives on his pauldron, a style popular with the Assassins in the 1300's. He found that he favored leather armor, despite other armors offering better protection simply because it was lighter and easier to move about in than chain or plate.

Several Hours Later

"Are you listening to me Arno?" Napoleon asked watching Arno make final adjustments and tightening his equipment to ensure that it would all remain in place during the battle.

"Yes." Arno stated, though not admitting he had only listened to the relevant parts of what Napoleon had to say.

"Alright, what is your task tonight into tomorrow morning." Napoleon asked crossing his arms.

Arno turned around and looked into the inky darkness that was the direction of the Island of Malta as he spoke.

"I will be functioning as a sole forward scouting party for the landing party led by General d'Hilliers. My task is to stealthily make landfall and place myself in a ready position to help clear out the artillery battery that will be opposing his landing." Arno said in the most military style he could muster. The mission certainly wasn't going to be easy. The battery he was going to be infiltrating was staffed with at least a thousand men.

"Very good." Napoleon said with a smile on his face. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon in Valletta"

Arno nodded, but he took note that Napoleon spoke in very uncertain terms. He didn't have a time line for this small campaign to take Malta. As Arno climbed into his little row boat he had to wonder how well the plan for this battle had been put together.

The small rowboat was lowered into the water gently and Arno began his trip to shore. Judging by where the ship was before the sun went down, with the help of the current, he would make land fall in about and hour.

Soon the ship melted away into the darkness and Arno was left alone in a rowboat surrounded by darkness and the smell of the ocean. He drifted off into thought.

'If you had asked me a year ago if you'd ever find me paddling alone onto Malta to lead a one man sabotage operation against a garrison of 1000 or more men...I'd probably think you were crazy.

Though maybe I am crazy, I've put the Order and my life in general on hold to go on a romp around Egypt with a French officer, with at this moment what I would qualify as questionable tactical judgment.

The chance to be in Egypt, and potentially find an Ankh, or another Piece of Eden. Is worth it, who knows perhaps I'll have something to bring back to the Order for all of my trouble.'

The rough sound of the row boat running aground through the beach sand snapped Arno out of his back and forth discussion with himself. He stood up and quickly hopped onto land. His arm muscles burned slightly from the rowing he did, and effect he assured himself would be worn off by morning. He glanced around searching for anything to help orient himself with the direction he needed to be traveling.

Further down the beach from him the contrast of the ocean water breaking over a rocky out cropping stood out to his strained vision. He knew that the garrison he needed to position himself near was on the other side of a similar outcropping.

Arno dragged the rowboat up the sand and attempted to mask it with some driftwood and foliage he recovered. After that he moved off the beach and set his direction of travel to the garrison. The simplicity of the mission was great. There was only one way the French landing party could arrive from and only one direction the cannons could shoot at them from. However the volleys of French musket fire would be aimed right at him...something he hadn't considered until he found himself overlooking the garrisons not so impressive fortifications.

Arno positioned himself atop an outcropping overlooking the fortifications. He would have to develop a plan that would keep him out of the line of fire.

'At least I've got all night to think about it' Arno though to himself.

Several Hours Later

Never had Arno had to think so tactically. The front of his head was throbbing from the level of thought he was putting into this mission. Fortunately that throbbing was distracting from what muscle burn was left from the trip into Malta.

To avoid getting killed by his own forces as they stormed the garrison, Arno decided that the best method to assist would be destroy the powder reserve, this way the only powder available to them would be that which was already on the artillery line.

Arno had done his best to inventory the amount of powder on the line, while it was quite a bit the morning misting rain over the island may play a helping hand in disabling the powder that was sitting out. He had come to the conclusion that casualties were unavoidable on both-sides...people were going to die in this fight, just as people were going to die on this expedition.

'My job is to ensure they can take the garrison, not to save every life' Arno reminded himself again as the sun began peeking over the horizon enough to profile the French landing boats and mark the beginning of Arno's mission.

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