The year was 1723, the wind whistled as it hit the windows, and the dim light coming from the lantern lit the room just a tad bit. Thunder crashing against the trees and roofs of civilians, rats scurrying throughout the Parisian streets and the gutter flooded with water, three men gathered at the centre of a bridge transcending across the River Seine. Nobody was around, inside during that sort of weather.
"We must not let a chance like this go to waste, it's too important," one man explained gripping onto the knife by his side.
"Are you sure this is right thing to do, what if they're right?" Asked another, shaking in his boots.
"Does it matter? Let's just get the job done Amir," replied the third person.
I stared at them closely, watching their every move and wondering why they were just standing there. They weren't close, they weren't far either, and when they started to charge towards my home, I knew something wasn't right. I charged out the room slamming the door behind me, knocking on my parents' bedroom door heavily, I thought it was hopeless but as I was turning, I heard it creak behind me. My father stood before me, I still remember his brown beard and hair, and I could never forget his blue eyes. They shined brighter than anything I'd ever seen, it was amazing. My dad was trying to calm me down but suddenly he stopped, I wondered why but it became clear after I heard the doorknob begin to rumble. I still remember the last words before they barged in.
"Son! Grab your mother, hide inside the closet, if you hear shouting and screams, don't come out!" He shouted, I didn't hesitate, I sprinted passed him and shook my mother repeatedly. She eventually followed me, though she was half asleep, we hid in the closet and kept the doors locked. The sound of screaming echoed throughout the house. We remained when suddenly, it all stopped, everything just went silent. I exited the closet to see what had happened when I found my father laying there, bleeding from the mouth, two of the men by his side and Amir standing there with the knife.
"Where is it?!" Shouted Amir, tears pouring down his cheek. He quickly ran away, smashing through the door and into the rain. My father was lying there, helpless, and dead. I guess that's how this all started.
"How did you find yourself in this position?" Asked a well-fitted man, sipping his expensive glass of fine wine.
"It's fairly simple, I've been across so many jobs I don't know where to count, been involved in the military, apparently I'm mentally unstable, got discharged, so I started working at the college, I was recently fired though for misconduct, apparently students don't like the smell of a roaring fire right next to the main building," the other responded, his rags reeking of booze and his feet as dark as mud.
"Robert-François, you're crazy, what are your motives for all these actions? Does it please you? Or are you, as most say, mentally unstable?" The man questioned, watching Robert closely.
"Alright, I'm going to be perfectly honest with you Giuseppe, I see shadows behind me, everywhere I go, I do all these horrible deeds in hopes of them stopping me, it's strange, I know," Robert told Giuseppe closely, gripping his arm.
"Even here Robert?" Giuseppe whispered.
"Even here," Robert responded, noticing a man who clothed himself with a white garment, covering his face with a hood. Robert was quick to his feet, knocking over the stool, the hooded man stood up straight, a tall man, a jacket made of silk and the shine of steel reflecting from his wrist.
"I've had enough of your games, I see the hood every time I see the shadow, who are you and why are you following me?!" Robert shouted in frustration. The Assassin quickly flicked his wrist, the steel of a blade launching out. His legs skipped across the table in front of him and he leaped like a cougar, placing himself on top of Robert, holding the blade to the throat of his frightened victim. The man just laughed, not only at the bartender hiding behind but the expression on Robert's face.
"Relax, I'm not going to kill you, if I was, I would've done it by now, I guess you deserve to know, even if your friend here knows he won't survive with this sort of knowledge," the hooded man got to his feet and aided Robert in getting back on his.
"I am Manfreddo Enemmi, I'm a part of the age old order of Assassins, I would tell you more but this place isn't the most secure location for disclosing our secrets," Manfreddo said to Robert and Giuseppe, handing Robert a piece of paper and eventually storming out of the Pub.
"Are you seriously going to go?" Giuseppe asked, Robert nodded his head slowly; unsure of what had just happened.
The sun was settling and the drunkards were beginning to emerge from their nests, Robert arrived at his destination, Giuseppe decided to leave Paris, shocked from the Assassin's attack in the pub. Robert opened the door quietly and peered inside, it was pitch black, and the wooden floors creaked as he entered. It looked abandoned, though signs indicated that it wasn't, the map was one and the dim light in the distance was another. Robert entered the room, it was bright and surrounding it were maps of Paris, plans and contraption blueprints. Manfreddo stood by a door, seemingly on guard.
"The Mentor wishes to speak with you, enter at your own risk though, nothing suggests he won't knock you out if anything goes wrong," said Manfreddo, opening the door. Robert walked up the steps, water leaking from the pipes on the ceiling and one even dripping onto his back and down his spine. Robert entered a small room, the desk at the very center and a bed behind it. Robert looked around, hoping to find somebody in the room.
"Welcome Robert, I'm Giacomo Casanova and I'm in charge of the Assassin Order in France," the man said, pushing himself down into his chair.
"There's more of you people?" Robert asked, curiosity booming.
"Did you think we could shape the course of Italian history from here? Or even Indian history, American history, just history in general? No, we're everywhere, though unfortunately, so are they," Giacomo responded cynically, grasping the arms of his chair tightly.
"And who are they?" Robert continued.
"They are Templars, they killed your father and ''they'' will kill you too, given the chance." Giacomo answered, with a grin.
"So they're the bad guys?" Robert questioned, wondering how true this information is.
"Templars aren't bad guys Robert, they strive for the same goals we strive for, what makes them different is how they wish to achieve it and what would happen once they achieve it," Giacomo told Robert.
"What do the Assassins and Templars strive for?"
"Peace. In all things, though as much as I'd like to discuss it, we'll need to talk more tomorrow or later, I've got business to take care of" Giacomo answered. Robert left the building and began to think about all the conclusions of events that these two organizations may have altered. The assassination of Cleopatra, the fall of Cesare Borgia, the Third Crusades and maybe even the Renaissance.