Chapter 4: Memoirs of a Clandestine Antiquity

Date: 14 July 1909 (18 years old)

The cold splash of water felt refreshing over Arman's face. He reached for a dry cloth that hung over his wash bowl. As he dried himself he admired his patchy facial hair in the mirror. A reminder of how father often kept a full, thick beard. Perhaps one day, his too could be just as rich. He ambled to his room and threw on his best outfit; a pair of charcoal gray dress pants tailored specifically for his legs, a lighter shaded gray button up shirt tucked into his trousers with a white suit jacket complete with a deep red neck tie. He slipped on his polished black oxfords and finished his outfit with one of his favorite possessions, the white and black fedora hat.

The apartment felt comfortably quiet, albeit lonely without mother strolling from room to room as usual. Arman always hated how often she worked. Most days were spent counting the interminable moments until she would arrive home when he hadn't spent all morning training at Harry's. The past couple of years had become something of a rhythm for Arman. Performing for pedestrians kept him busy on the days he wasn't perfecting his skills. But nothing made him more happy than coming home to his loving mother. Some days he'd be greeted with the heavenly scent of her homemade dinner, other times he would have a kettle of hot tea ready for her to enjoy. Although he could do nothing to stop her constant coughing, Arman did whatever he could to keep his mother pleased and comforted.

Before leaving, Arman assured the apartment was clean and in line in case mother happened to arrive early. He secured every window and double checked the locked door and began his frequent travel to Harry's. The summer heat radiated from the scorching sidewalk making the long walk even more miserable. By the time Arman arrived upon the familiar brick porch, a wide patch of sweat had formed across Arman's back. He lightly tapped at the wooden door with a middle knuckle, usually loud enough for Houdini to hear. A few moments passed without an answer. Growing impatient, Arman knocked more firmly. Another minute passed without a response. Arman briefly removed his hat to wipe away a small bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Harry? Are you going to let me in?", Arman called out. Again receiving no reply. He reached for the handle. It hadn't been the first time Harry couldn't hear the door. Luckily for Arman, he left it unlocked quite often. His luck held out as he slowly opened the door and peeked inside, again calling out for Houdini.

"It's Arman! Where are you?", he hollered into the house. Arman curiously allowed himself inside. It was strange that Harry would leave his home open and unattended in the middle of the afternoon, unusual even for a man as forgetful as Houdini.

Arman could feel something amiss throughout the house, something different. What was it? Arman stood in still silence in the middle of the living area when all of a sudden, something sprang to his attention.

'That humming noise! It's here again! But where is it coming from?', he questioned himself as he spun around the room frantically. The answer had to be there somewhere. Perhaps behind the dozens of books clumped against the wall. Arman began quickly pacing from one area to another hoping to isolate the location of the eerie sound.

'Wait, I got it!' , he exclaimed to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated as hard as he could on his surroundings. Suddenly the sound began to grow louder in clarity as every other noise began to fade into the background. Arman used his talent to rapidly pinpoint the spot producing the humming.

'There!', he turned towards a large poster of Harry himself promoting one of his many New York shows that hung framed between two shelves fully stocked with books. A ghostly golden glow pulsed behind the picture. Arman became frightened. Where had he seen that glow before? It was so familiar but seemed to escape his mind. He heedfully approached the poster and reached out. The light pulsed brighter and faster the closer he came. Before he could touch the frame, the front door loudly swung open, causing a startled Arman to nearly topple over. It was Harry, whose suit had become drenched in sweat from the summer heat and carried a box full of books. He seemed surprised to see Arman in his home.

"Arman! How in the world did you get in here?", he shockingly asked as he plopped his box of books on the closest chair.

"Your door was open. Where have you been?", Arman queried a panting Houdini.

"The bookstore, where else would I be?", he slightly cocked his head to Arman who studied him carefully.

"Harry, why was your theater performance poster lighting up like a candle stick in the dead of winter?", Arman demanded to know. Harry paused as he quietly examined the framed picture, appearing as though he was searching for a quick answer. Arman grew suspicious.

"Ah that! The sunlight bounces from the window, to the glass table and onto the wall. That must have been what you were seeing. It happens quite often in this old place mostly in my bedroom.", he justifiably responded. Arman had no interest in believing such a blatant lie, but knew there was no way Harry would reveal the truth at this moment. He decided to let it go for the time being considering the glow had vanished and the humming once again ceased.

"If you say so, then I'll leave it at that. It's much too hot to argue.", Arman faked a tiny smile. Although he agreed to forget about the situation for now, he and Harry both knew deep down that it wasn't the last they'd hear of it. Arman was determined to draw the truth from him one way or another. The two gentlemen proceeded about the rest of their routine as usual without another word regarding the incident.

The sun had set in the evening sky as Arman leisurely hiked his way back across town. He began to scramble for clues in his mind as to what Harry could possibly be hiding from him.

'Why would he have a reason to keep a secret from me?', he asked himself. Arman had never given anybody a reason to hide things from him let alone Houdini. Although he was thoroughly bewildered by the days occurrences, Arman felt compelled to unveil the veracity surrounding Harry's sunlight claims. When the best opportunity to do so was the biggest problem on his mind.

The days passed and another week had flown by without any more mysterious happenings at Harry's house. Arman's magic courses had become more intricate and complicated as he moved onto learning many different variations of escapes, the newest being the infamous straight jacket.

"Come on, Arman. You can do this!", Houdini encouraged Arman as he struggled to remove an arm from the jacket. He wriggled around the living room like a mad man. He grunted and panted while thrusting his shoulders repeatedly at an attempt to loosen a sleeve. Several moments full of cursing and grunting passed before he finally freed an arm. Using his newly freed hand, he unlatched a series of clamps constricting his right arm. What seemed like an eternity for Arman had finally come to an end as he whipped the jacket to the ground and threw his hands up in a triumphant manner while Harry applauded him. He slumped down in a chair and took a long swig from a glass of water.

"I knew it. I knew it from the moment I saw you in the shop. You are a born natural, Arman.", Houdini praised as he poured himself a drink.

"It means a lot, Harry. Really, it does. I wouldn't be able to do the things I've learned without you.", Arman said appreciatively. A sudden stinging sensation worked up his arm.

"Ouch. Son of a -", he whimpered as he clutched at the pain. A lengthy scrape had appeared down his forearm. It slowly began to trickle a bead of blood.

"Must have caught yourself on a latch. Don't feel embarrassed. Used to happen to me dozens of times when I began learning escapes myself.", Harry recalled. "Let me grab you a bandage.", he stood up but Arman politely declined his offer.

"I have my own for just such an occasion, no need to waste yours.", Arman insisted as he reached into his shoulder bag. It had been well over a year before he began to swing himself back into the habit of carrying his essentials with him again. The tattered bag had seen better days but Arman still found use out of it. He dipped a hand deep into the bag full of random trinkets and papers.

"I know it's in here somewhere.", he muttered as he finagled around the bottom of the bag. Crumbs from old sandwiches and clumps of dust stuck to his fingers. He felt around until he touched something odd. It was cold and hard, like metal. He quickly realized what it was without removing it.

'The tube! That's where I remembered the glowing from!', he thought to himself. He became discerned that whatever was hiding behind the wall had to be somehow connect to the tube.

"Can you find them? Or should I grab my own?", Houdini asked concernedly. Arman fidgeted around the bag again until he stumbled upon some old rags.

"Ah, here we go. Perfect.", he said as he removed the rags and fashioned a bandage around his bleeding arm. He began to feel uneasy. Originally having no immediate intention to draw up a conversation about the light, he started scanning his mind for a way to push the truth out of Harry.

Arman leaned forward and clasped his hands together. His gaze never lifted off of the floral designed carpet. He spoke softly.

"Harry. I really need to know about what it is that's behind that picture.", he pried. Terrified of angering Houdini, he refused to look up.

"What? I don't believe I understand what you're talking about.", Harry lied.

"That light, Harry. I know what I saw and I know that you're keeping something important from me. I need to know what it is.", Arman dictated. Houdini became irritated. His accent grew much more thick as he spoke.

"It isn't any of your business, Arman. There isn't any cause for concern that involves you and I would appreciate it if you would not tell me what I should be doing.", he growled as he rose from his chair. Arman secretly slipped the tube from his bag into his pocket before rising from his seat as well. The pair stood face to face. Arman could smell the alcohol on Harry's breath as he ranted on.

"Haven't I done enough for you? A snot nosed kid with ridiculous dreams of becoming better than the great Harry Houdini! And here you are, snooping around my house, poking that nose where it doesn't belong!", he flailed his arms in a fit of rage. Even though the harsh insults hurt Arman, he didn't move a muscle.

"I have a mind to show you the front door! After everything I have taught you, this is how you repay me!?", Harry shouted. Before allowing him to yell another word, Arman swiftly removed the tube from his pocket, holding it mere inches from Houdini's nose.

"Then would you mind explaining what in the hell this is?", Arman madly asked. Houdini froze in a state of utter disbelief. His eyes as wide as the moon.

"W-where... Did you get that?", Harry stammered as he reached for the object. Arman silently snatched it away before he could lay a finger on it. He raised an eyebrow, fully aware he had Houdini right where he wanted him.

"Okay. Fine. You win. I'll show you.", Harry said while throwing his hands in the air. He spun around and faced the painting. Arman relaxed his shoulders and sighed in relief of avoiding any further conflict.

"To be fair, Arman, I've been keeping this from everybody. Not just you.", Harry admitted. Arman kept his distance as Harry carefully removed the poster from the wall revealing a shelf about a foot deep embedded into the building. A large square box sat in the center. Houdini retrieved it, cradling it in his arms.

"This is perhaps the greatest secret that has been kept for centuries. Longer than you could ever imagine.", he whispered as he unlatched the lid and slowly revealed its contents. Arman's mouth dropped. Inside the box lay a large golden sphere decorated with shimmering engravings similar to the design on his strange tube. It gently pulsed the evading golden glow. It was beautiful, yet terrifying at the same moment.

"What... Is it?", Arman asked in amazement. Harry removed the sphere from the box and held it out in his hand.

"Traditionally, we call them Pieces of Eden. Created by Those Who Came Before. Their purpose? Ah... I'm afraid that answer has been lost to the test of time.", he explained. Arman's head swarmed with an overwhelming amount of questions. He stuttered as he spit them out.

"Why do you have this? What can it do? Who is this 'we'?", Arman desperately begged to know.

"I have a bit of a story to explain, Arman.", Harry reclaimed his seat with the Apple firmly planted in his lap. Arman settled in next to him and gave his full attention, eager to hear an explanation.

"It starts with two factions that have fought for longer than we have records of. The Assassins and the Templars. Have you heard any stories of either of the two?", Harry asked. Arman shook his head. Never recalling a moment he had ever heard of such a strange thing.

"Throughout the history of humanity these factions have waged many wars against each other over objects like these. Luckily for me, I have stumbled upon one given to me by a man who claimed it once belonged to Napoleon Bonaparte. Whether or not this is true, I'm afraid I cannot say. How ever I will say that it does an excellent job at creating illusions that only I can perform.", Harry cackled. Arman flinched. This was Houdini's secret? A magic orb that was capable of bending reality? It became immediately clear why he had become so popular.

"But why do they fight? Over what?", Arman curiously asked. Harry sipped from his glass before he spoke again.

"Peace and order for the most part. However, both sides have different methods of obtaining this goal. See, the Assassins work behind the curtain, always watching silently, keeping us safe. They wish for humanity to be free willed as a whole.", Harry took a breath before continuing. "But the Templars... They wish for total control. They do not have a brotherhood unlike the Assassins. They do not follow a certain set of rules, by which I mean the Assassin's Creed. They will mercilessly murder any of those who stand in their way to achieve their desire.", Houdini explained.

"Then why haven't they been stopped? Surely one of the Assassins have tried to put them out of commission.", Arman interrupted. Harry laughed.

"Boy, do you not think they have tried? There have been many notable individuals throughout history that have fought valiantly against their enemy. Here, let me show you a few.", Houdini said as he extended the Apple away from his body. The orb began to pulse brighter and emitted the familiar humming sound. Suddenly, a large blast of golden light drenched the room. Spooked, Arman quickly jumped to his feet, unaware of what to expect next. Harry still sat relaxed in his chair. The room sparkled in the glittery light. Without warning, the pieces of glitter clumped together in the center of the living area forming a detailed recreation of a tall hooded man. He posed heroically with a studying gaze, as though he was fixated on something. Arman reached out to the man, allowing his hand to pass directly through his chest.

"Wow.", he marveled at the display. "Who is this?", he asked.

"His name is Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. He was a very crucial member of the Levantine Assassins. His actions created a domino effect across the world within the brotherhood bringing new tactics and ideals to the table. Were it not for him, the Assassins would have been extinguished long ago. He passed away at the age of ninety two years old. Impressive if you ask me.", he chuckled. Arman admired Altair's outfit. It was relatively simplistic comprised of a white robe featuring a well constructed cowl. He carried many throwing knives and sheathed a sword with a hilt shaped into an eagle like fashion. He bore a strange contraption over his left arm built from metal and leather. A long sharp knife protruded from a casing that appeared to be strapped to his forearm. His left ring finger was missing. Before he could get a closer look, the model burst into the thousands of glimmering pieces and again regrouped in the center of the room, this time forming a silhouette of a much older man. His robes appeared to be darker in color and had much more elaborate decorations. This time, the face of the man was more hidden by his dark hood. Arman could make out a thick graying beard across his mouth and chin. The stranger had two of the peculiar wrist knives extracted from his hands. He was posed in a fighting stance, as though he was facing attackers.

"Ezio Auditore da Firenze.", Harry announced as Arman inspected every detail of his attire. "A rich Florentine noble from the Italian Renaissance. This man had become most famous for removing the influence of the Borgia rule throughout Rome. Many Assassins today still admire his courageous acts that could have drastically altered history had he not intervened. He followed closely in Altair's footsteps until having died at the age of sixty five.", Harry rambled on. "It would take me days to explain all that this man had accomplished in his life time.", he said. Fascinated, Arman became anxious to see who was next. The Apple again dispersed the shards around the room and quickly formed another male figure. This muscular man stood hunched, legs spread wide apart. He held a tomahawk in his right hand and an eagle shaped knife in his left. His white and blue robes appeared to be tailored in a colonial-esque fashion. Arman had recognized the style of his robes as he had seen many pictures of similar outfits in his history text book. It was clear the man was of American-Indian descent as his wardrobe contained many Native elements throughout as well as his notable facial features.

"Who's this one?", Arman asked.

"I could never pronounce his real name. Most referred to him as Connor Kenway. An Assassin born to a Templar father.", Harry said.

"What did he do?", an impatient Arman asked. Harry smiled.

"This man bravely fought for his people during the height of the American Revolution. He, with the help of his mentor, Achillies, saved the North American brotherhood from complete extinction. Once he sought to unite the Assassins and Templars, to end the bloodshed. But alas, here we are today still fighting the same ancient battles.", he said.

"Well, what became of him?", Arman inquired. Houdini shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Rumors say he married an Irish woman he recruited into his brotherhood. Others say he fought and died in the French Revolution. Nobody knows for certain.", he clarified. Arman was dissatisfied with his answer, but it couldn't be helped. One more question burned in Arman's mind that had yet to be fulfilled.

"Harry, this is the most captivating bit of magic I have ever seen, but one thing doesn't make sense. The first day I arrived here, I overheard you speaking with a woman. When you showed me into your home, there wasn't anyone but you.", he described. Houdini broke eye contact with Arman. His gaze shifted to the Apple that returned to his lap. He drew a deep breath before speaking.

"Her name is Juno.", he confessed after a few silent moments. "She spoke of the future. Of my association with the Assassins. Most importantly...", he returned his gaze to Arman and lifted a boney finger in his direction.

"She spoke of you.", he solemnly said. Arman blinked. Him? Why? What purpose could he serve here? His body became tense. Houdini went on.

"What she didn't speak of... Is your artifact.", he divulged. The boy looked at his hand that grasped the tube.

"I found it the day my father was killed.", he stated. "I think it was his. I always assumed the men I told you about that knocked me over were the same who murdered him. One of them dropped it as they ran.", he expounded.

"Only a Templar would know of the existence of such an important item.", Harry assured. Arman held back a breath. Had his family been caught in the cross fire of an age old war? Father couldn't have been an Assassin. It just didn't make sense. There had to be more to the story.

"May I see it?", Houdini softly asked. Arman nodded and handed the tube to Harry who examined it closely.

"There are only three of these known to exist in human hands. We know them simply as Cylinders. Ancient codex pages briefly mention them. They are able to imprint on one specific person, an Appointed as we know them. One who will be shown unimaginable visions of the future in time. Only the Cylinder dictates who will become an Appointed.", he elucidated.

"It stuck me with a needle when I found it.", Arman said. Harry gasped. His eyes became moist as he stepped away from Arman.

"It's you! You are an Appointed! Tell me, did you feel strange after it happened? Different?", he keenly asked as he grasped the broad shoulders of the young man.

"It uh... I passed out not long after it occurred. Ever since then, I found myself with an ability to hear things in an odd way. I can focus everything on a single sound. The world becomes louder and infinitely more clear. It's changed my life.", he disclosed.

"Just as I thought.", Harry said as he swung his hands into the air. He continued, "It is a sensation we have come to learn as Canine hearing. You know, like a dog?", Harry explained to an unimpressed Arman, "Ah never mind the name. Either way, you possess an incredible gift granted to you by the Cylinder. Many Assassins have learned an ancient ability they call Eagle Vision. It works as a visual aid in seeking out targets. Yours is much more special, however. Only two other people have had the privilege of utilizing such an amazing talent.", Harry concluded.

"So what does this mean?", Arman nervously asked. He felt a terrible pit in his stomach as he already knew what the answer was.

"Arman this isn't something to ignore. The Cylinder is pointing you in the right direction. You must become an Assassin!" Harry urged.

"What?! No. How can I help the Assassins? I'm nobody special.", Arman quickly dismissed the offer.

"But Arman, all of the signs point to you! Juno, the Cylinder, your Canine hearing. Perhaps your finding of my Apple was not by mistake after all.", Harry argued. Arman remained silent for a long time debating an answer. What if Houdini was right? What if this was all part of some age old prophecy? It seemed too strange to simply ignore.

"I'll tell you what, Harry. Let me sleep on it. I've got a lot to think about.", He answered after a moment of deep thought. Harry agreed and the two men parted their ways for the night. Arman felt exhausted after the chaos that had transpired that day. The moon shone brightly in the clear night sky over the sleeping city. Arman trudged his way home, ready to throw himself onto his bed. Arman desired to know everything he could about the struggle between the Assassins and Templars. He knew Houdini expected an answer in the morning, but Arman felt burdened with his new found information. This wasn't something he wanted. It wasn't anything that he had asked for. His thoughts weighed heavily on his mind, more-so than usual. He stopped over a puddle and studied his reflection in the dirty water. He wished Father was here to guide him. To understand him. He clenched his fists as a spike of anger shot through him. William's murderers still wandered the city. Arman felt an intense hatred for the Templars. If the Assassins sought to rid the world of such a vile scum, then maybe joining the Brotherhood was his calling all along. Arman shook off his dark thoughts, hoping to continue dealing with them in the morning. Until then, he felt entitled to a long comfortable night in his bed.