Chapter 13: The Good Man and the Bad One
"I'm glad you've come," Nathaniel said. "I cut the bridge and ... Well, there's another way up here, but since your Assassins are going to let in the mercenaries who apparently changed their loyalty my men will be too busy with the fight to come help me. So we can talk in peace then."
"We have talked enough the last time we met," Connor snorted, having far too clear memories of the extortion.
"But you're eager to know why my men saved you and Meggie instead of killing you and why I left you the map, aren't you?"
Connor didn't answer, staring angrily at the Templar. Was he about to tell him how thankful he had to be over again?
"You see, you were only half-conscious as my men pulled you out of the water after the explosion," Nathaniel began his tale without an invitation. "It would've been dishonourable to kill you in a state like that. Capture you and bring you to our secret place, to your Brothers, knowing that you're a man who manages to survive his own execution? You would've found a way to break out and free the others. Capture you and challenge you as soon as you wake up? It wouldn't have been fair as well, because you still would've been surrounded by my men, and they wouldn't have let you go if you killed me. So my men made sure that you and Meggie would be unconscious for quite a while, so the Cesare would gain a lead over you. Why I wanted you to follow? Well, I couldn't let you stay alive just like that, free and uncontrolled, could I? I gave you the information you needed to follow, so I would know your exact location and prepare a trap by means of which I hoped to ensure your defeat. And if you were not to be defeated by the armada, then ... I knew you would infiltrate this stronghold. So there would still be a chance to kill you honourably. And this chance is now. It's only us in this room."
Connor lost his voice for quite a while, wondering whether Nathaniel was really serious.
"You are a madman," he finally said. "Nothing you say makes sense. 'Kill honourably!' 'Fairness!' 'Preparing a trap!' Your explanations are contradicting. What is it you really seek?"
Nathaniel only shrugged. "Peace," he answered.
"By what means?"
"I told you that I admire you, didn't I? Maybe you're right, and my actions and explanations are contradicting. I used to follow my instincts very much lately. More than usually. So what do I really seek? The same as last time, I guess."
Connor straightened his back, giving Nathaniel a contemptuous look. "You cannot extort me this time."
"You're right, I can't," Nathaniel nodded with a sad smile. "But don't you remember what I asked for back then?"
"You wanted me to join the Templars."
"In the first place, I wanted us both to work together. If all honest men in this world would unite, we could ban evil and injustice forever. But, apparently, this is not what is going to happen." Was his voice ... Was his voice quavering? Getting high? His hands, at least, were shaking ... His face was pale as death.
"Maybe ... maybe one last chance," he suddenly whispered. "For me. For everyone. It - it has to work. I am not a bad man, am I? I will succeed ... God - or whatever is up there - will help me ... If there's any hope for this world, then the good has to win ..."
Listening to this mutter, Connor couldn't decide whether he should feel angry, sorry for this poor lunatic or just confused by all this absurdity. Absurdity which had cost many lives ... This maniac was not only a danger for the Assassin Brotherhood but for everyone else as well. That Nathaniel was mad had proved earlier, but why did Connor realize the true extent of this madness just now? Nathaniel indeed was one of those especially dangerous madmen who didn't appear mad at all at first glance. Could it be that even Meggie, being his best friend for years, hadn't realized the true nature of Nathaniel's idealism?
"Win or die," proclaimed Nathaniel, and his voice was firm all of a sudden. "The same for you. Don't worry about your homestead - I'll see that the Templar Order will let it be after your death. In return, I'd ask of you to see that my family doesn't end up living on the street if I die."
He looked expectantly at Connor who nodded, knowing that he hadn't another choice anyway. He was going to fight and kill Nathaniel, leaving the innocent Elizabeth and seven children to their fate. Nathaniel was a madman, but it was a promise Connor could still make. After all, Nathaniel had made a promise himself ... An honourable promise ...
Nathaniel was the first to attack. He drew his sword, immediately making a lunge and taking out a dagger as Connor parried. It was also him who initiated the second and the third clash. As for Connor ... Too many thoughts were haunting his mind. 'But now their hold is weakened,' he recollected, 'which makes me believe there's a chance for peace. Imagine what might be accomplished if we were to unite.' This was what he had said once himself. 'But we have an opportunity here,' he had said to his father the day he killed him. 'Together we can break this cycle, and end this ancient war. I know it.' Yet ... 'Part of me once did as well. But it is an impossible dream.' His father's words. Was Connor in his role now?
'One doesn't join this eternal war because of a merry life,' Meggie had said earlier, 'for ours is the path of pain and loss, no matter which side we choose. So, in a way, we're brothers and sisters in fate. And if we want to prevent unnecessary bloodshed we should work together.'
He parried two more blows, lunged this time himself, his attack being blocked. He met Nathaniel's eyes. Those clear blue eyes which reminded him of a curious fact: Almost all white newborns had blue eyes; often their eye colour would change later, but in the beginning it was blue. And it seemed like Nathaniel's eyes had never changed. He was still a victim to his naivety which made him believe there was a clear line between good and evil, and he would use his talent to make what he believed to be the good win; he would seek control over everything, he would force the people to adopt his understanding of right and wrong and extinct those who believed something else, just as he had done with his own order. He had good intentions, yet ... There was something Father Timothy had cited on one occasion: 'The road to hell is paved with good intentions.' - 'In your haste to save the world, boy - take care you don't destroy it!' was Achilles' version of it.
He parried once again ... So they weren't different at all, huh? Nathaniel was just like ... Had he, Connor, been so blind and naive as well? 'If I sought to dissuade you, it was because you knew nothing! If I was reluctant to contribute, it was because you were naive. A thousand times you would have died and take God knows how many with you. Let me tell you something, Connor: Life is not a fairy tale and there are no happy endings.' Many had died before Connor realized the truth behind Achilles' words. 'I thought if I could stop the Templars, if I could keep the Revolution free from their influence, then those I supported would do what was right. They did, I suppose, do what was right - what was right for them. ... So many voices - each demanding something else.'
'Different from whom? From Templars? Common criminals? Face the truth, Connor: The Assassin's Creed is a lie. You kill people. Who gives you the right to decide whose death is necessary and inevitable und whose not? To decide who is innocent and who is guilty? Who are you to decide such things? A god? No. You're a common mortal, and this means: nothing.' ... 'The only thing that is really there is the desire to live and survive. Everyone is just living and surviving as well as he can. And he's right to do so. He has his own way of life. It doesn't make him guilty.'
Nathaniel was good. He knew how to wield a sword. But Connor was going to kill him, ruining the happiness of his innocent family, maybe that of some people Nathaniel possibly used to help, and having killed countless men to get to him. 'They had a life. They had families. They were sons, brothers and fathers. Other people probably depended on them. They had their dreams and plans for future. They weren't your enemies. They only fulfilled their duty.' Was he just like Nathaniel in the end, forcing on his ideals on other people by means of violence? Was he just as mad and dangerous as his opponent with whom he probably would have made an alliance if their views hadn't been so contradicting?
'Connor, are you always ... certain in the means and ways of the Brotherhood?' sounded the voice of Aveline de Grandpré in his head. 'I ... trust my own hands,' he had replied. Did he still?
As a matter of fact, what Nathaniel asked for was impossible. If Connor had learned anything during the Revolutionary War - then, most of all, it was this. 'Were we not meant to live in peace, then? Is that it? Are we born to argue? To fight? I believe things can still change. ... Compromise. That's what everyone has insisted on. And so I have learnt it. But differently than most, I think. I realize now that it will take time, that the road ahead is long and shrouded in darkness. It is a road that will not always take me where I wish to go - and I doubt I will live to see it end. But I will travel down it nonetheless.'
His grasp around his tomahawk became firmer.
'So maybe the Brotherhood is indeed not about feelings or about morality or guilt or innocence. It is about following the Creed. Nothing more.'
'To see differently, we must first think differently.'
Was that it? The true Creed? To question everything and to trust one's own hands, no matter what?
"I am sorry, Nathaniel," he said, parrying another blow. For the last time hopefully. "In another time, in another world we could have ended up as friends. But not in this one. Your talent and your ideals are a dangerous combination. I cannot let you live."
And with this, he engaged this hidden blade, aiming for Nathaniel's upper arm. The Templar who froze for a second as he listened awoke just in the last moment, ducked and turned, escaping the attack.
"I cannot let you live either," he smiled sadly at Connor. "For exactly the same reasons, brother. This world is indeed a pathetic place if everything has to end like this. But you wouldn't understand. You'd be in my way all the time. When did you become like this? When did you betray your original ideals?" he asked as he leapt forward, preparing his sword for a new strike.
"I never betrayed them," Connor snapped, feeling the full might of Nathaniel pressing against his tomahawk. "I just see the world as it is. Imperfect, perverted, yet still beautiful. As long as there is at least one man believing in freedom it is worth fighting for."
Nathaniel shot his sword down and then past Connor's tomahawk, yet it was blocked by the hidden blade.
"You're mad," he said, his voice quavering again. "I believed in you, but you're just mad. You still believe in freedom blindly. You won't realize ... You still deny how cruel this world is! Wake up! See! See all this injustice! See what they turned me into!"
What was that? There was a noise of metal hitting stone, and Connor felt Nathaniel's left hand catching and clasping his fist holding the tomahawk. Then, as Connor lunged out with his hidden blade, holding it like a dagger in order to free his right hand from Nathaniel's grip, he realized that the Templar had thrown away his sword and that his hidden blade met flesh. When he looked up he saw blood. Much blood pouring out of Nathaniel's right hand, pierced by the blade, but holding fast Connor's left hand.
A gambit. Once again, a gambit.
"No face, no name, no origin!" Nathaniel shouted, and his bright blue eyes mirrored the sunrise behind Connor's back. "A nobody! A bastard that should not exist! They killed me before I was even born! And you - even you, someone such as myself, turn your back on me!"
Connor ossified as a strange thought occurred to him. After all this talk of making the world a better place ... Was this the final truth about Nathaniel? Leaving Connor alive, giving him freedom, caring for his friends, giving him the location of St. Robert ... just to be ... acknowledged? Letting Connor be free when having him unconscious ... Was it just the desire for Connor to accept him - accept him as willingly as possible, being as free as possible, not influenced by hostages and chains around his wrists ... In exactly this situation - this moment?
Still being not sure whether he understood any of Nathaniel's logic, Connor shook his head. "No, you just refuse to -"
A sudden pain struck him between his legs, he skipped a breath and was like paralyzed. Then, strong and heavy, Nathaniel's foot hit his guts, and he toppled backwards, even unable to break his fall. At a single blow the whole world seemed so incredibly blurred and distant like a half-forgotten dream.
"I am a good man," he heard Nathaniel speak somewhere far away. "You're a good man too. But you're a traitor. You betrayed us bastards. You were my only hope, and you disappointed me. This is why you're sentenced to death."
Death ... The pain was still so hard that Connor could barely move. But for some reason his hand went instinctively to his chest, protecting the heart.
"In the end, the good has to win. No matter how filthy and cruel this world is, your death proves that I'm on the right path."
A short, deafening sound and a spear of fire piercing his shoulder. Connor desperately tried to catch some breath through his clenched teeth and to regain the mastery over his aching body. If not for the Shard of Eden he would be dead now.
Nathaniel's cursing reached his ears, but Connor didn't listen for the exact words anymore. He just grabbed and turned something with his hand, the ringing of a falling dagger, his left fist lunging out and hitting Nathaniel's face. Before he knew what he was doing he leapt up to his feet, throwing himself with full force at Nathaniel, hitting the floor and punching him in the face again. Then he bent over him, panting.
"It is not me to kill you," he said. "I made a promise."
"Meggie," Nathaniel gave him a bleeding smile. "Why is that so? I aimed at your heart, yet you're still alive. There's something protecting you - something I don't have. The bullet changed its trajectory, and I couldn't kill you. I couldn't even kill you when I tried to stab you. But you - you can just use your hidden blade and ... So that's how it is, huh? You won. You fucking won. You're the chosen one. Chosen by Meggie, by fate, by faithful friends, by everyone. So ..." His whole body was shaking. "In the end you're the good guy, and I'm the bad one. This is the proof. My entire life has been a failure. It makes no sense anymore."
There was a strange movement inside his mouth as if his tongue was searching the jaw. Then the biting on something.
"Poison," Nathaniel grinned at Connor's dazed expression. "You don't need to know which one."
To be continued ...
A very short chapter this time. Considering that some of the recent chapters were quite long I hope it isn't a problem. However, now there are only two more chapters to go. I hope you like this fanfic so far and thank you for reading, faving and reviewing. See you next week!