The resolution to Maria's blunder? In the paragraph below, which pertain to Ubisoft's characters from Assassin's Creed. As if you didn't already know! Enjoy :)
"Ummph! The fuck?" Altaïr cursed as he felt something slam into his muscles; he looked down, and realized with dread that it was that alluring courtesan. He berated himself for letting himself get distracted, once again, in this courtesan's hemline- it was, after all, his fault she walked right into him. As he felt her lithe form crush against his firm chest, he couldn't help but pull her closer, "To, uh, stabilize her…" he rationalized.
Maria apologized profusely, only after a string of curses left her mouth.
"Son of a bitch! Why don't you watch the bloody hell where you a-"
Altaïr gazed down at her, shocked by such vulgar words used by a woman. He was more shocked by how he found her feistiness arousing.
"I uh.. .Forgive me, " Altaïr stammered, flushed from embarrassment. "I um, uh… I didn't mean…"
"Maria I dare say you have knocked his brains loose! Either that or your proximity has rendered him speechless!" Jessica laughed.
Maria shot Jessica a scorching look, then turned her attention back to the mysterious, statuesque man who was still holding her in his solid arms. She observed him with curiosity, as he looked away from her gaze.
"Perhaps, " she began with a condescending tone, "you should watch where you are walking next time," Altaïr met her gaze, and Maria rewarded him with an alluring smile that Jessica couldn't see.
"Come on Maria darling, as much fun as being pressed to the chest of a very attractive mysterious- on second thought, move over!"
Maria rolled her eyes as she pulled away from Altaïr's arms. Altaïr flushed again at the compliment, and averted his gaze.
"We're leaving Jessica, don't get any ideas! Besides, I have to get back to work- don't want Mamraj to get any ideas about punishment!"
Jessica harrumphed and folded her arms over her chest, smirking. The two women brushed past the flustered Assassin, snickering and whispering to each other. Altaïr's eyes widened- had he heard that right? "She is one of Mamraj's courtesans? There might be some way I can use this to my advantage… " Altaïr smiled to himself, "Maria," he whispered to himself, "so that's her name", He decided to follow her from a distance, hoping she would lead him to the servant's entrance of Mamraj's palace.
Malik had just finished his second cup of tea and plotting new developments on his map of Jerusalem by noon. He decided that he had enough of the stuffy bureau air, and wanted to stretch his legs a bit. He reached under the desk and pulled out a wooden ladder that he used to get out of the bureau. He sighed, reminded once again that he could no longer free climb, as he had lost his arm a few months ago.
"Templar bastards!" He cursed under his breath as he pushed the ladder up to the wall, and deftly climbed out. He squinted as his head emerged from the shadows of the bureau and into the glaring sun that was at its climax in the sky. The white walls and roofs almost glittered in the sunlight, and the metal domes of synagogues and mosques reflected vibrantly. Malik inhaled deeply, pleasing smells of market wares and food travelling to him on the warm, dry breeze. He walked across the warm roof, and carefully lowered himself down onto another ladder that led to the street. Taking a quick glance around, he started into the crowd, looking for a nice spot to enjoy the pleasant weather. He sat on a bench overlooking the river that flowed through the city- a marvel to behold. Unlike many of his Brothers, Malik could swim- before he lost his arm, however. After the incident, he had not ventured near any body of water that was of any depth. The overbearing heat of the day, however, made his fear diminish exponentially.
Oddly enough, this particular section of the river was quite deserted, within the past hour in which Malik had been sitting in the sun, only two people had passed him. Malik looked around curiously, it appeared he was indeed, very much alone. He sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment, and took off his heavy black robe, "It is much to hot today for such a cloak!" He wiped the sweat from his brow and neck as he regarded the river with hunger in his eyes. Realizing that the river, at this point flowed slowly, Malik decided to give the idea of swimming a second chance.
"First the Novice apologizing to me, then swimming! What else will this day bring for me?"
He stood and started undressing by the river's edge. Taking his inner tunic off proved a frustrating challenge, as he had only one hand to undo the clasps with. Malik was not a man known for his patience to begin with, especially now, when he was standing in the sun, feeling the sweat rolling down his back his patience was already gone. With a grunt of annoyance, Malik ripped open his tunic, tearing the fabric open, reveling in the amazing feeling of the fingers of cool air caressing his damp chest. Despite the fact that Malik had been forced to take the station of Rafiq in Jerusalem, a job that would hardly be described as physically demanding, he still had the lissome, toned form of an Assassin. He shook himself free of the rough tunic, allowing his muscular chest and abdomen to breathe. Taking note that there was no one around him, he slipped out of his pants and boots, and with a genuine grin, scampered over to the river bed, and into the cool water
He gasped as the invigorating temperature splashed around his legs, and up to his muscular torso, making his muscles contract, and heart rate elevate. He continued deeper into the river, until he was in up to his taut waist in sweet relief from the sun's relentless rays. He floated onto his back, and attempted, in vain, to stay balanced. He soon felt himself dipping to one side; frustrated by his lack of balance, because of his missing arm, he flipped onto his front. He was surprised, however, by the fact that, for the most part, he was able to stay afloat, and upright with relative ease. Malik decided to see what could still be accomplished underwater, and with a thorough intake of air, he plunged down into the refreshing water below.
Jessica and Maria continued along together for a while longer, chatting and giggling- neither of them any wiser to the fact that a man in white had been following them in the crowd. Altaïr smiled several time as the two women discussed their thoughts on Mamraj.
"Quite a philanderer this man," thought Altaïr, " I wonder how he came into such a position of affluence. How many women must he keep in his harem?" Altaïr shook his head, "Foolish wonderings, just the sort of thing that would set the Master off." He chuckled quietly to himself.
Maria's friend was named Jessica, Altaïr had learned through eavesdropping on their conversation. He had also overheard Jessica teasing Maria about what had happened to her this morning. Altaïr blushed several times at Jessica's ridiculous description of the scenario.
"Now stop that Jessica!" Maria interjected Jessica's illustration of how Maria 'clung to his steel arms for her very life, ready to faint at the sight of such a stud…' "You sound like you are reciting something from a romance novel!"
The women laughed and continued on their way; remaining in each other's company until they reached the outer gates at the rear of Mamraj's palace. Maria turned to Jessica, and bid her farewell.
"Where are you headed off to know, Jessica?"
"Oh, I don't know. I have the rest of the week as a sort of a vacation before its back to Acre." Jessica frowned for a moment, then snorted, "Why must it always be so grey in that city? Just when one thought for a moment it would be possible to escape such weather!"
Maria smirked, "Why it's perfect, just like home; gloomy and depressing!"
Jessica cracked into a smile, "Ah, you are right there Maria, I'll give you that."
Altaïr was growing tired of their constant conversing; he did have a mission to complete after all. He crossed his arms over his solid chest, tensing and relaxing his muscles in his arms and chest out of boredom.
Jessica began walking away from Maria, and the latter made her way up to the gate. Altaïr made note of the lone guard by the gate. "Odd, " he thought, "such poor security for such an important man."
Maria cringed at the lecherous gaze she was treated to by the guard.
"Try not to drool on yourself, pervert!" thought Maria, however, she held her tongue. She did not wish to receive a beating for being insubordinate, again. Thankfully the last time, Mamraj had laughed it off- stating he "liked a woman of fierce composition". However, he had warned her that she would have to watch her tongue in the future, as the other men would not take the same view as he did.
She glided past the guard, and into the open doorway of what appeared to be the kitchen. As she stepped out of the light, she took a moment to let her eyes adjust, as she removed the veil from her head. Blinking back the darkness, she ducked suddenly to avoid a squawking bird that was attempting to escape its fate as the main course for tonight's feast.
"Don't let that bloody thing get away!" One of the English cooks shouted at Maria, who was the closest to the feathered beast.
The duck, which had landed in a dish of cream, attempted to right itself with a chorus of panicked honks and squawks. Feathers drifted in the air, and Maria snatched the duck out of the cream before it could fly away- procuring a savage bite for her fingers.
"Ahhhh! You fucking bastard! How dare you!" Maria drew a small dagger she kept in a leather strap bound to her upper thigh, and, taking the foul bird by the neck, swiftly and unceremoniously married blade and flesh.
"There! I will enjoy eating you for dinner tonight!" Maria grinned darkly at the dead bird, lifeblood still draining, held fast between her blood soaked hands. The women in the kitchen stood slack-jawed, stunned into silence by this sudden act of brutality. Maria's smile drained from her face, realizing what she had done. Dropping the twitching bird, she hung her head quickly, and skirted out of the kitchen, further into the palace. She passed by a mirror in the hallway, and regarded her reflection. Flecks of blood adorned her cheeks and throat; hurriedly they were wiped away with the back of Maria's hand. She shook her head, laughing to herself- "If only mother could see me now"; she smiled, and continued up the candle-lit hallway, passing mosaics and frescoes. The hallway ended with a guarded entrance; she drew a calming breath as she approached the doorway to the harem's salon, smiling as she passed the guards, and sashayed into the perfumed room.
Altaïr pulled his hood forward, ensuring his face would be shrouded in shadows, then approached the guard. As soon as he was within range, the guard turned and regarded Altaïr with alarm.
"Stop where you are infidel- come any closer and I will end you!"
The guard started to draw his sword from its sheath, as Altaïr shot forward, closing the distance between himself and the guard to a few feet. He launched himself into the air; his shadow on the ground like that of a bird of prey, coming in for the kill. Altaïr flexed his fingers out on his left hand; triggering his Hidden Blade to leap from its sheath, and a second later, plunge into the guard's neck, slicing clean through the tough sinews and bone of his neck. Altaïr's blade hade hit it's mark perfectly, the guard's head lolling unhealthily off to one side, blood spurting out profusely. In one elegant motion, Altaïr withdrew his blade, wiping the blood off on the rough material of the man's tunic, and stood up. He surveyed the empty alley, "Good," he thought, "no witnesses.". He dragged the body off into some nearby bushes, ensuring no one would happen across the body in their travels.
Altaïr averted his eyes, looking for some way to scale the building. The walls were ornately decorated in the Byzantine style that could be found on every building in the Holy Land. Ornate mosaics adorned the walls and courtyards, the windows had elegant shutters and covers; however, they were much to few and far between to be of any use to Altaïr. He made a frustrated noise as he rounded one side of the building.
"It's all the same, fucking architecture! Even with my height advantage, it would be impossible to scale these walls." Altaïr regarded the open doorway with irritation, "I suppose the servant's entrance will have to serve as plan B."
Altaïr made his way over to the open doorway, however, hearing the sounds of a busy, full kitchen made him change his way. It would be impossible to simply wander into such a crowded area as that without being noticed the instant he walked in. Altaïr huffed in exasperation at his predicament and folded his arms across his chest. His gaze went to the ground, and travelled up to the bush where the dead body had been placed. Altaïr's golden eyes lit up, and the scar on his lip was tugged ever so slightly upward by a faint smirk.
"That will work", he simpered.