Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Assassin's Creed.
Warning: Language. I imagine the Georgia bureau much like the Levantine one; large, obvious, and in its prime. It's not like a secret hiding spot with so many Assassin's running in and out, but the towns people rarely speak of it so word of its presence rarely gets out. POP QUIZ: You will read about a character in this chapter that is mentioned briefly in Assassin's Creed II; what was this character known for? Need a hint after reading this chapter? Go to the bottom.
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Of course, I tip my hat to Believe in Fairy Tales, who is my ever-diligent beta.
vvv *This song was my summer jam… just sayin'* vvv
If I could write to the kid I was before
I'd tell him you'd get everything you ever wanted
But you will still want more.
Someone's gonna tell you
Who you should wanna be
So you forget the vision that they didn't want to see
And when they give up, 'cause they will give up say
"Here I am alive".
They say you don't grow up you just grow old
It's safe to say I haven't done both
I made mistakes, I know, I know
But here I am alive.
So many people close to me cut me down
This is supposed to be a bad luck town
I jumped, I fell, I hit the ground
But here I am alive.
"Here I Am Alive" by: Yellowcard
Chapter Sixteen: Assassin's Aren't Elegant
I woke up with a dry throat and feeling like shit. I tried to stand up but my vision grew blurry where I couldn't see even an inch in front of me. I dry heaved for an indefinite amount of time before staggering into a standing position and using the wooden beams of the bridge as a crutch. I stood with my head pressed against the cool wood, regaining my balance before starting to head towards the bureau. The normally passive-aggressive citizens of town near the bureau now stood with their backs against the street walls, pointing and whispering to one another. Nobody bothered to help my practically drunken stumbling. I even fell to my knees and dry heaved a couple times and nobody helped me. My location was too far away for any patrolling Assassins to help me. I wanted to start crying and screaming for help, but an Assassin caked in blood, puke, and sand wasn't much of a pity case in town. Plus I refused to swallow my pride.
After five more minutes of stumbling through town, I got help from an unlikely case. The girl who I had given money to on when waiting to meet Altaïr for his armor came and placed herself underneath my arm; supporting me with a surprising amount of strength. She wrinkled her nose in disgust before looking up at me and smiling shyly.
"You help me, and I'll help you."
I nodded slowly before gesturing towards where the bureau was located and we started shuffling there. When we got to the base of the bureau entrance, one of the guards stepped forward and started helping me on my other side. He nodded briefly to the little girl helping me with a sparkle in his eyes. I couldn't remember the man's name through my struggle to remain upright, but I knew he had a daughter around the age of the girl who was helping me.
Which reminded me, "What is your name?" I rolled my head towards the girl I gave money to.
She jutted her chin out proudly. "Novella, ma'am."
"Call me Anima." I replied before we finally made our way inside the main part of the bureau and Novella's eyes became as wide as saucers.
All of the Assassin's lounging around looked at me wearily. One of them got up and started running ahead of us to The Mentor's office. Another got up and headed towards the training ring. I was being dragged up the stairs after a moment. Dazedly, I heard the calls for the Mentor ahead of me.
When I was lugged through the doors into the Mentor's office, Altaïr was already there with a deadly look on his face and Malik looked well, pissed - to say the least.
The Mentor examined me up and down before looking at Novella and running a hand through his graying hair. He dismissed me with a flick of the wrist after an exhausted sigh. Altaïr stepped forward and plucked me out of the grips of my two temporary assistants. I saw Malik roll his eyes skyward before offering a hand to Novella, who begrudgingly took it. The two of them walked off to I would assume to be Amelia or Cien. Altaïr, however, took me in the opposite direction to my room.
He set me down carefully on my bed before turning to accept some tea that a random working lady had brought to my room. I drank it with some help sitting up with some help from Altaïr. He was silent as he took off my filthy robes; leaving me in men's trousers and a lightweight shirt that fell past my fingertips.
My head had by then cleared up slightly with the help of the tea. I instinctively snapped my hurt wrist away from him when he reached for it. Instead of taking that as a warning to leave my wrist alone, he grabbed it carefully and rolled up the sleeve of my shirt. The bandage that I had been wearing was worn and had seen better days. He unwrapped it slowly and I almost gagged when the smell of rotting flesh as the infection reached my nose. I was too scared to look at my wrist, but I made myself anyways.
The place where I had been stitched back together less than a month ago was brown and black and yellow. It was also hot and oozing random stuff. The stitches that were supposed to be removed by Cien in a week from now were torn and I could see a glimpse of bone and inflamed muscles. Dead flesh hung off the stitching and the rancid smell almost made me puke.
I made a point of not looking at Altaïr or the wound. That was until Altaïr gently grabbed my chin and moved my face towards his. He looked livid. No, more than that; he looked absolutely feral. His lips were pulled tightly over his teeth; giving a hauntingly good impression of a snarl. Altaïr's eyes were glowing with unfiltered rage. The pure intensity of his eyes as they seared into mine made me look away after a moment. His fingers applied a slight pressure to my chin, making me glance back up at him again. This time his eyes entranced me and kept me there.
"What happened?" The two words were practically undistinguishable; a deep bass that came from low in his belly that rumbled throughout his whole being. It was a voice I'd imagine the devil would have because there was a slightly seductive ring to it that made me shudder, and yet it was merciless and promised death.
I briefly noted that I probably had necrophilia, but damn the boy was hot when he was mad.
"When I was away for a month I got in a fight with some men. One of their daggers caught my wrist. A doctor I was learning from stitched me up."
"How long ago?" His eyes were still connected with mine and still molten gold colored.
"Roughly three weeks." I shrugged casually.
He let go of my chin and used the hand to trace lightly around my gash. "You weren't supposed to use this wrist while it was healing." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"No, I wasn't." I admitted.
"But you did." His voice was monotonous now and he moved his eyes towards the wound.
"Only on the mission!" I explained myself quickly. "Otherwise I didn't use it at all. I wrapped it and did everything the doctor said. I didn't use it for three weeks! It was supposed to be healed better, but-" I cut myself off.
"But?"
I shook my head and looked down. "It isn't healing correctly. Even doing everything the doctor said, it just isn't getting better. He said- he said that the infection was deep and it may never heal. I figured that I could do just one mission on it and it wouldn't do any damage."
"You never told anybody."
"Cien and Cahil knew, they just never mentioned it. I didn't think it would affect me this badly. Besides, I've gotten worse injuries and recovered perfectly."
The woman who brought me my tea stepped into the room to collect the dishes, took one look at my wound, then turned without a word and walked away. A moment or two later, she returned with a pouch full of medical supplies and equipment along with a bowl full of warm water.
Altaïr took the pouch silently and glanced at the woman, who was now blushing. She retreated quickly and he pulled out a clean rag before dipping it into the water and cleaning off my wrist. I attempted to keep in the hiss of pain, but failed miserably. He kept cleaning the wound steadily. To distract myself, I started talking again.
"What does Malik think?"
"He's worried for you, but not showing it." He answered fully, his voice regaining his normal baritone.
I chuckled. "In other words he thinks I'm insane and a novice?"
Altaïr actually gave a smile at the comment, albeit a brief one. "No, but I think you're insane."
"I'm pretty sure everyone here does." I laughed slightly before wincing when Altaïr prodded the deep gash. It ran through the meat of my palm, the prominent tendon in my wrist, and wrapped around slightly; running about 5 inches long. It was hard to open and close my hand because my palm was swollen from infection also; my fingers were purplish. Altaïr then took out something that smelled strongly of alcohol. I braced myself against the burning feeling.
He glanced up. "Besides your wrist giving out, what happened last night?"
"I ran away from the guards and jumped in the river."
"That explains the infection and fever."
I nodded. "Don't worry; I try not to make a habit of it. That is, unless I'm saving some idiot Assassin's life in one way or another." Altaïr tensed and I did the same in response. He glanced up at me. It was quiet for a couple minutes besides me hissing as Altaïr tended tediously to my cuts. I would even go so far as to say that it was peaceful and comforting.
Kinja suddenly burst through the room with a wild look in his eyes before tackling me and pinning me to the bed. He had grown within the month I was gone. I howled in pain as he put his hand directly on my gash and his weight made all the air rush out of my lungs. Almost as quickly as pinned me, he was thrown against the wall by a murderous looking Altaïr, whose hidden blade was out and against his throat.
"At ease," I choked out.
Altaïr reluctantly backed away before starting to tend to my wounds all over again; re-washing them with warm water and applying some type of numbing ointment that I hadn't been aware even existed on them.
"Kinja." I nodded towards him.
"What the fuck, Anima? I leave with us pissed at each other, come back to have you missing completely, then you get back and right as I come looking for you, you supposedly ran off injured again and were nowhere to be found! I thought you had died!" He choked out before shoving past Altaïr to hug me. Again, Altaïr threw him into the wall, this time with a considerable bit more force. Kinja sprang up and gave a death glare at Altaïr who was shaking with rage.
I reached over slowly and tugged on his robe. Kinja gave me a grateful glance before giving me a 'this isn't over' look and hopping out of the room temporarily.
"Where's Malik anyways?" I turned my attention back towards Altaïr.
"Speaking with The Mentor, Al Mualim, Amir, and some other full Assassins."
I nodded slowly. "How are Cahil and Cien coming along?"
"Cien is enjoying her medicine studies."
"And…" I prodded.
"She's an excellent free runner."
I snorted. "Of course she is. I taught her."
Altaïr smirked. "I'm aware of that; she brags about you whenever we compliment her skills."
"Hopefully I have nothing to do with her when she does something wrong." I joked. Altaïr let out a deep chuckle. "And how is Cahil?" I asked innocently.
"Stubborn. Proud. Ignorant. Impatient."
"Reminds me of someone I know." I laughed.
A scoff came from Altaïr. "I wouldn't suggest talking about Malik like that."
I rolled my eyes. "I was talking about you, silly."
"Me? Never." He joked back.
Just then Malik strode into the room and Altaïr straightened from cleaning my wounds. "I heard my name. I can only assume they were used along words of praise." He didn't wait for a response before cutting to the chase, "I just finished conversing with the others about Trystan. We have evidence that he fled from his hide out in the mountains a half day ride from here last night after he heard news of Afzal's assassination."
"To where?" I asked.
"We don't know." An annoyed look crossed Malik's face. "We'll have to force him back here, because these are obviously his headquarters. However, we have news of his suppliers that need assassinated, which will make it harder for him to work away from base. If we cut all his ties, he'll have to come back himself to mend them."
"How long will that take?" I shifted uncomfortably.
"Matters how long it takes for news to reach him after the deaths. Could be days, could be months." Malik glanced out of the window.
I sighed. "We'll have to lay low for a while."
Malik made a sound of agreement. "Unfortunately. Well, I must leave now." He turned to leave before hesitating. "Oh, and novice?"
I took a gulp of air before nodding slowly. "Next time tell me if you're injured."
Altaïr let out a deep huff after Malik exited the room.
"So…" I started awkwardly, "how about more swimming lessons?"
He glanced down at my injured wrist. "Sure."
I blinked slightly. What just happened? Where had that come from? And wasn't I not supposed to get my palm wet? What?
As if I wasn't confused enough before…
I mean, how random can I be?
Do you want swimming lessons?
!*!*!*!
I groaned and slipped into the warm water with a sigh. I was on the brink of sleep before the door slammed open and in rushed a very irritated looking Amelia, a confused Cien, and a still awestruck Novella. I sunk lower into the bath.
"Hey…" I started lamely.
Amelia walked right over to me and slapped me. I blinked up at her before she hugged me; getting her clothes wet.
"Are you on your monthlies or something? Or have you finally just lost your damned mind?" I questioned her while rubbing my cheek.
"A little of both, dearest." She answered flippantly. "Anyways; big news."
"What?" I sighed irritably.
"Altaïr is head over heels for you."
And then I fainted. Thankfully the girls were there or I would've drowned.
Hint: This character was a part of Ezio's quest for Altaïr's armor. Read the warning at the beginning.
HEY! Check out this book about Assassin's – It's really great:
The Way of Shadows by: Brent Weeks
IT'S AWESOME!
