On the Wings of an Eagle

by FernandelDeLaFrance

Near the end of his life, Ezio Auditore, once Mentor of the Assassins, decides to serve his order with his dying breath by retrieving an ancient artefact. To his surprise, it whisks him away to a strange country of magic, where old eagles fly again...

5. Chapter V – To Teach How To Fly

DO NOTE that this story IS NOT endorsed by the original holders of the intellectual rights or copyrights mentioned at the end of this chapter. This is a work of fanfiction based on the two original works, with the intent to amuse and distract its readers. There is absolute no intent to make money or otherwise deny the original copyright holders their given due. Should the original holders of the copyright be offended by my use of their rightful property, I will gladly take it down in accordance with the Terms of Service of this website. Please support the official release(s) mentioned below.

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IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT. PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTES.

...Did I get your attention? Excellent. Sorry about the all capitals, but I really need all you ladies and gentlemen to read this, simply so I don't feel guilty about it later.

Anyway, welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Chapter Five of On The Wings Of An Eagle. Thank you – again and again! – to everyone who read and reviewed. This chapter is a few pages longer than usual, actually (I was motivated), even though it's mostly character development, foreshadowing, and character interaction. Oh, and there's training scenes. Lots of them. I hope you enjoy it!

As for the all-important announcement I wanted to make, here it is: I have exams. Really, very important exams that I desperately need to study for. And as much as I enjoy writing, I've noticed that it sucks up a lot of my time that I need to study and learn stuff by memory. Which is why, unfortunately, this chapter is going to be the last update to this story until my exams are over. I haven't completely stopped writing – heavens no! I'd go barmy otherwise – but you won't be get a new chapter every week as I planned on doing. I'm really, really sorry about this, but real life takes precedence over anything I might do for fun on this website, and I personally think it sucks that I have to disappoint you in this way. As soon as my exams are over (in a month or so), I'll have a lot of free time to write and update, so expect my schedule to pick up again at that point. I hope that you can understand my reasons, and I promise to write and publish as soon as I'm done with these flipping exams. Again, I'm truly sorry.

Now, on to some comments from reviews that I felt needed to be addressed.

A lot of people have commented that Louise seems OOC. They're absolutely right, and it's done on purpose. I've written her in a different manner than most ZnT fanfiction stories I've seen, and let me explain why.

As far as I understand, Louise is a loner, a pariah among the other noble students. She's been shunned and belittled for years, not only by her peers, but also by her disappointed mother, the teachers who were exasperated with her lack of control (Colbert being an exception), and not to mention her own disappointment. Of course, people react in different ways to being outcasts, but generally, they mature quickly and get a rather cynical view of the world. To be honest, I'm speaking from personal experience, as loath as I am to say it. Louise learned relatively quickly that raging against the world didn't exactly help her reputation – in fact, it only made people make fun of and avoid her more. So she simply cut herself off from everyone, simply so that it wouldn't hurt anymore, become aloof and cold with the occasional bout of rage and anger. She still has that explosive temper, but she tries harder to control it, because if she gave in to it at will, it would only make things worse for he, not to mention that it would dent her family's reputation.

So, actually, if people think she's acting OOC, you're completely right – I'm trying for my own interpretation of Louise here. I'm writing her the way I believe she would realistically have turned out had she been a social outcast, demeaned and belittled all her life. She's still a tsundere with a nasty temper, but she's learned to hide it so as not to attract any more unwelcome attention. A realistic interpretation of her canon backstory, if you will. Does that make sense?

And to be very, very honest, I was sick and tired of seeing the same model of Louise in every single ZnT story I've read. As much as rigorously adhering to canon can be useful (sometimes), I couldn't help but think that her reaction and development into a person with a trigger-happy temper was completely irrational, especially when she's she's supposed to be less talented than any other student at the academy. So I tried to interpret her differently. In my opinion, it makes things more interesting to deviate from the common model – and certainly far more fun to write. Tell me what you think, though – all opinions appreciated!

In this story are the first hints to the difference between canon ZnT and the new backstory I'm trying to write. It's only hints and foreshadowing so far, but tell me how it works.

And the reviewer who can tell me what television and book series I paid homage to in the first training scene between Ezio and Louise gets a virtual cookie. Enjoy!

Please, enjoy yourself while reading this story, and if you liked or disliked it, be kind enough to leave a review. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

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On The Wings Of An Eagle

Chapter V – To Teach How To Fly

...

A week later, Ezio waited patiently in the courtyard until he heard small steps on the grass behind him. "You," he said without preamble, turning around swiftly, "are late."

Louise grumbled in annoyance as she took off the cloak of her uniform. "I had classes! I couldn't get away earlier than this."

Ezio snorted disdainfully. "Books and scrolls and magic spells are all well and good–" and with a deft move, he threw one of the wooden practice swords he'd held behind his back at Louise, the weapon clattering to the ground as she fumbled her grip, "–but remember that it was you that asked for me to teach you swordsmanship. You told me that a week ago. I have not seen much enthusiasm since then."

"Sorry," Louise muttered, looking away in defiant guilt, "there was just no time–"

"Bah, excuses! I do not want excuses; I want action, I want resolve!" Ezio called out, tapping the point of his own practice sword on the ground irritably. "Tomorrow, you will be here when the clock strikes five and no later, or I will refuse to teach you any further than this first lesson. Do we understand each other, Louise?"

Louise nearly exploded right then and there. "How dare you, you insolent–"

"Louise!" Ezio snapped sharply, his voice lashing out like a whip. "This is not a children's game we are playing! I am not teaching you numbers or embroidery; I am teaching you how to kill. Do we understand each other, or do you want to leave?"

Cowed by his harsh tone, she nodded meekly. "I understand, Ezio."

Ezio nodded, his expression serious. "Bene. Now pick up your sword."

It had taken a while for Louise to get used to the idea of having an Assassin as a familiar. In fact, when the girl had asked him point blank what he exactly was, the former Mentor had been rather evasive, refusing to talk of his past and only giving vague answers that really told her nothing of his life.

Ezio had quickly found out, however, that Louise was quite possibly one of the most stubborn women he had ever met. It didn't take her long to wheedle out of him that he was really a killer for hire. He was able to leave out the more secret details of his life, figuring that the young girl wouldn't understand the differing ideals of the Templars and Assassins. Still, the idea of such a powerful fighter, capable of defeating magic users with nothing but the clever use of weapons and skill, had rocked the arrogant noble brat to the core. Nobles were not the unassailable wielders of arcane power that she had thought them to be. When Ezio had matter-of-factly listed a dozen different ways he could kill a noble with nothing more than a candle knife, each of them quite viable and possible, Louise had been forced to revise her opinion of her unassuming-looking 'commoner' familiar.

Now that she knew who Ezio was (and after he had reassured her that he had no intentions of hurting the students), she was slightly more relaxed around him, telling him more about herself, her family and the country's history and magic. She even (hesitatingly) called him by his first name now, a far cry from the impersonal 'Familiar' bestowed on him before. Even though she occasionally wanted to blow him into a smear on the wall for his incessant playful teasing and sarcastic comments, Louise found she could smile around Ezio, his sharp wit and advice making good company.

The other students couldn't say the same thing, however. Wherever Ezio turned up, the students would avoid him like the plague, stumbling over their own feet to get out of his way in the corridors, their faces terrified as he passed. As soon as they thought he was gone, they would whisper behind his back about the latest outlandish rumours that had cropped up about him, unaware of the Assassin's sharp hearing. Ezio had heard all the speculations about his origins, from being a very skilled mercenary (not too far from the truth, actually) to being a demon send to these lands to chastise the sinners that had offended God and the so-called 'Founder's Will', handing out divine punishment to all those who deserved it (he'd chuckled at that one, remembering how Rodrigo Borgia had excommunicated him, declaring him a traitor to God). Others called him an elf, some sort of creature of a folktale from times long past that hadn't been seen for centuries. Ezio didn't really know whether to be amused or insulted by the fact that he was being compared to some sort of fairie.

In the end, he decided to just not worry about it. He had better things to do.

Like teaching a frail noble girl how to use a blade.

Louise picked up the wooden practice sword, holding the heavy stick awkwardly in two hands. Ezio clicked his tongue, annoyed. "That's not a greatsword or an axe, ragazza. It doesn't need two hands to be swung. See?" He held out his own weapon with one hand, fingers outstretched before they clamped shut around the hilt, thumb lying lightly against the cross guard. "That is the grip. Not like that, you're holding it too tight!" he chided Louise, correcting her instantly, loosening her clenched fingers. "You'll only lock your wrist that way, and you won't be flexible. The grip must be... delicate. Yes. Finesse is the key. Otherwise, you might as well be holding a metal club."

"Won't I drop it then?" Louise argued, frowning. "It's too heavy!"

"Drop your sword?" Ezio laughed and flourished his weapon in a sharp movement, his grip never wavering. "Do you know what happens when you just drop your weapon in a fight, piccina?" Swift as a snake, the tip of the wooden sword jabbed into Louise's stomach, driving out the air in her lungs. "Lose your weapon, drop it while you fight, and you die. It's quite simple."

Ezio chuckled at Louise's expression of curious dismay. "I guarantee you, piccina, when you face someone on the battlefield and that length of steel is the only thing separating you from the dead scattered around you, you will never let go of your sword again. And do not worry about the weight. It's as heavy as it needs to be for you to learn, and to get strong. Now, turn your body sideways."

This time, Louise obeyed without question, although she looked far more disheartened. Ezio examined her build critically. "You're quite skinny. Eccellente!"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Being skinny is good!" Ezio repeated, frowning at her unhappy expression. "What? What did I say?"

"That's the first time I heard that being skinny is something to be happy about," Louise said bitterly. "The boys don't seem to appreciate it."

Ezio dimly remembered the girl telling him about her rivalry with the foreign noble... What was her name again? Kanter? Klara? Kirche! Yes, that was it. Those two seemed to fight like cats in a bag whenever they met.

...In any case, it seemed to be a thing of womanly jealousy. He was clever enough not to ask any more questions Louise looked about ready to kill, and that was only from remembering the slights she had suffered, imagined or not. He hated to think how she felt when the dark-skinned girl was actually in her presence.

He cleared his throat. "In any case," he continued quickly, snapping Louise out of her dark thoughts, "being skinny isn't too bad, see? The target is small, and that makes it difficult for your opponent to hit you. Now, the stance. Try and imitate what I do."

The girl grinned as she adopted the stance he'd taken, or at least lamentably attempted to. "I'll be sure to tell that to von Zerbst the next time she brags about those udders of hers..."

"Focus, Louise," Ezio chided as he went over to her, correcting her footwork and the position of her arms with light taps of his wooden sword as he lectured, feeling completely in his element. It had been far too long since he had taught swordplay. Years, in fact. "Concentration is the key to these exercises, more so than strength is. Now, that is the basic stance it's made to allow you to move between defence and offense at a moment's notice. A twist of the wrist," he demonstrated, "and you can block blows from one side, a little step to this side," he made Louise follow through the movement, "and you dodge blows from the other. Quite simple, but the devil is in applying it quickly during a fight."

Louise listened, not even thinking of interrupting, drinking in everything as Ezio lectured her about the different steps, blocks, parries and dodges, the Assassin running her through each movement several times, practicing by striking slowly at her, chaining the blows, picking up the pace after a while.

Ezio was a strict taskmaster, demanding nothing less than excellence when it came to the execution of the movements. He mercilessly pointed out any mistake she made, correcting her movements. When he found an opening in her still lamentable defence, he took it without hesitation, leaving her sprawled on the ground and nursing another bruise underneath her uniform. Still, she got up after every time she was disarmed or sent to the ground, gritting her teeth. At least she could get better in swordsmanship, unlike the secrets of magic that continued to elude her.

With that in mind, she persevered.

It didn't take long for Louise to feel herself getting tired, her breaths getting quicker and her limbs getting heavier with exertion. After only twenty minutes, she was already gulping for air, her usually immaculate blond hair stringy with sweat.

"All right," Ezio said loudly, "let's have a break. Not bad, piccina. For a first time, at least."

Louise stepped back immediately, grabbing her stomach as she took in much needed gulps of breath.

And was rather surprised when Ezio swiftly disarmed her, setting the point of his sword at her throat. He chuckled at her comically outraged expression. He loved playing this trick on his novices back in the day.

"You're dead," he said calmly.

"You cheated!" she yelled indignantly. "You said we should stop!"

"And yet you are still dead." Ezio didn't move the point of his sword, staring at her. "Tell me, Louise, if the two of us were fighting to the death, do you think that you would cheat to win?"

"Never!" she claimed, standing up straight and glowering at him. "That would be dishonour unworthy of the Vallière family!"

Ezio sighed. "Wrong answer." He stepped back, adjusting his grip. "Try and hit me."

Louise snatched up her sword and ran straight at him with a yell, aiming to run him through. Ezio stepped aside, avoiding the strike with elegant nonchalance, lightly tapping Louise on her back with the flat side of his stick as she passed him like a charging bull. "Dead."

Louise turned on her heel, snarling as she swung at him from up high. Ezio grabbed her wrist with his off hand and set the point of the practice sword against her stomach with his other. The Assassin grinned insolently as he released her. "Dead."

Louise tried to calm herself, settling into the stance Ezio had taught her, swiping the heavy wooden blade from the side quickly. Before she even completed her swing, Ezio had tapped her thigh on the other side with a quick lunge, a blow that would have easily sliced through a major artery, leaving her spraying blood all over the grass. "Dead."

Louise leaped straight at Ezio, sword swung high at a wide angle, only to see him lunge with a small step and find his sword at her throat before she could bring her own to bear. "Dead."

Jumping back, she tried to swing from the other side. With a slight twist of the wrist, Ezio's sword changed direction, avoiding her blade altogether and finding its way to her opposite side. If the weapon had been sharp, it would have cleanly severed her torso, separating legs and body. "Very dead."

And so it went for another ten minutes. Louise, stubborn as she was, charged him again and again, only to find herself disarmed or outmanoeuvred every time, Ezio's sword tripping her legs or his simple evasions sending her sprawling with her own momentum, his blade piercing her defences with casual ease.

Ezio made no secret of his deviousness: he mercilessly tripped her, grabbed her wrist to throw her off-balance, threw sand in her eyes, kicked out when she least expected it, or used his greater reach and strength to bring her to fall before she could even get close to him. Every time Ezio poked his sword's wooden point at a spot that Louise knew from Sister Catherine's anatomy classes would cause death, sometimes slow and agonizing from blood loss, sometimes quick and painless when it punctured a major organ.

Every time, though, she would get back up, grab her sword and try again to hit him, to no avail. Ezio was nevertheless impressed. She may have been tired and breathing heavily, her bruises multiplying with every bout she lost, but her earlier sluggishness was gone, replaced by a burning fire in her eyes. Probably anger.

Ezio couldn't help but feel some slight respect well up in him. That girl just refused to give up.

Unfortunately, Ezio knew that boneheaded determination to win, no matter what the cost, was just as useless (and hazardous) as lack of skill. And Louise's newfound determination to win, no matter how great, could do nothing against nearly seventy years of combat experience and skill sharpened to the near superhuman. One little mistake was enough to separate the living from the dying.

Again, Louise found herself lying on the ground after Ezio had simply grabbed her wrist as she slashed at him, tripping her with a simple push in the other direction. He jabbed his sword at her throat. "Dead again."

She pushed herself up from the ground, growling in frustration, anger, and shame. She had failed. Again. "Why?" she snarled. "Why can't I hit you?"

"Because I do everything to win," Ezio said simply as he grabbed her forearm, hauling the surprised girl to her feet. "Because I have been fighting battles and wars for over fifty years and have survived them all. You haven't even held a sword before today. Because I trick, I deceive, I feint, and I win. Because I do not fight fair." He spat out that last word like an insult, before controlling himself again, his expression deadly serious.

"There is no such thing as a fair fight, Louise," he said quietly as he gently examined the purple bruise on her wrist, caused by the strength of his vice-like grip as he repeatedly disarmed her. "Someone is always going to be stronger, faster, more experienced or better equipped than you. And even if you are all of those things, sometimes only luck saves you when you are outnumbered or when you overreach yourself." He dropped her arm and looked at her intently. "The only thing I can do is teach you to throw away all those ideas and preconceptions you have about honour in battle. There is no such thing. Fight dirty. Fight violently. Fight ruthlessly. If it saves you from death, then it's fair game."

This was probably the most important lessons a novice had to learn. Which was why he insisted on personally teaching it to every single of his students and was so very insistent that they understood exactly what he meant. Even if it meant giving them a merciless beating in the process. At least it would be one memory they wouldn't forget that easily.

Louise looked appalled. "For some of us, our honour is all that's left," she hissed angrily.

He blinked, curious. "Is honour all you have left, piccina?"

"Yes." She looked away, blinking away angry tears. "I can't use magic worth a damn; I'm the youngest daughter of a family that is on the verge of disowning me, I have no position at court, no friends, no connections, no power, nothing. That's exactly what a noble without magic is." She glared up at him. "My honour is all I have left."

Ezio smiled lightly, amused. "Not quite. You have me now."

"Yoohoo, Monsieur Auditore!" a voice called out cheerfully. Ezio turned away from an annoyed Louise to see a cheerfully waving Siesta walk towards them. "I have something for you!"

"Madamigella," Ezio said pleasantly, saluting elegantly with his wooden sword. "What can I help you with today? Is Marteau running the kitchen hands ragged already?"

"That old grouch hasn't changed from yesterday, you know!" The girl bounded over, smiling all the while as she chattered. "Actually, he told me to give this to you, Monsieur Auditore! He heard that you are always climbing buildings and practicing your swordplay in the afternoons, so he thought you would be hungry and thirsty! Just bring the basket back later, okay?"

She proudly held out a small basket with bread, fruit, and a bottle of wine. Ezio took them and bowed graciously. "Thank you, signorina. You probably saved us both from a horrible fate of starvation."

"Don't mention it!" the girl chirped happily before giving a curtsey to Louise.

"Popular with the help, aren't you?" Louise grumbled as the two of them sat down on a nearby bench, watching Siesta bound away, presumably to help Sister Catherine in the infirmary as she usually did in the afternoons.

"A bit," Ezio admitted as he broke the bread in half, handing one to Louise as he chewed on his own. "I'm a commoner like them, after all."

"Are you sure it has nothing to do with publically humiliating a noble known for his callous treatment of commoners and outrageous advances on the female servants?" she asked sarcastically as she uncorked the bottle.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's my pleasant personality," Ezio said with a straight face, causing Louise to chortle with amusement despite herself.

They sat in silence as they ate and drank. The bread was quite good, Ezio reflected, and so was the wine. He smiled to himself. When he told Louise that he was 'a bit' popular with servants working at the Academy, he had been guilty of the understatement of the century. When he returned to the kitchen for the first time after his little duel, the inhumanly strong head cook had wrapped him in a joyous bear hug, lifting the confused Italian cleanly off the ground and probably cracking another rib or two. The other servants had cheered and slapped Ezio on the back, offering him congratulations, compliments and praise. Ezio didn't quite know what to make of it until Marteau broke out several bottles of wine and shared them around. "A toast! A toast to Our Sword!"

Our Sword. For some reason, the title had stuck and spread like wildfire. It was catchy, after all. Simple, easy to remember. When Ezio visited the small town surrounding the Academy, people he'd never met occasionally called out to him using the strange moniker, smiling and waving. And every common servant of the Academy greeted him enthusiastically, offering help and guidance when he needed it.

Ezio had decided that he liked it. It reminded him of more pleasant times in Monteriggioni, when passersby would greet him happily with smiles on their faces.

"There's a special event happening at the end of next week," Louise began hesitantly when they had finished eating and simply rested. Well, she needed it more than him; he was barely winded after that little sparring session. No need to tell her that, though.

"Really? Do tell."

"It's a competition between familiars," Louise continued quickly, "and it's tradition for the winner to get an audience with the Queen of Tristain herself. Well, the Princess this year, actually the Queen's been ill recently."

Ezio considered that for a moment. "...So? Is that important?"

"You're being deliberately obtuse, aren't you?" Louise sighed, irritated. "Fine. The students usually jump at the chance to meet the royal family and the high nobility, simply because it gives them connections and offers an easy way into the royal court. The prize of a golden crown is nothing more than a trinket."

"And what, prego, does that have to do with me?"

Louise threw her hands up, frustrated. "Well, you're a familiar too, aren't you? What are your plans for the competition?"

"I can do a knife throwing act," Ezio suggested with a sarcastic grin.

Louise looked at him, excited. "That's perfect! Brilliant idea, Ezio!"

His face fell immediately as the girl started muttering to herself. "...That was a joke, Louise. I didn't mean it seriously. ...Hello? Are you listening to me at all?"

...

"Stupid girls and their stupid ideas and their annoying magic and irritating professors and flying dragons and..."

If any stranger had passed Ezio Auditore just now, they would have assumed that he had finally snapped. In fact, the students were giving him a wide berth as he marched through the corridors, boots clacking loudly on the stone floor as he angrily muttered to himself.

"Why do I have to actually do a throwing knife act? È stupido! I know how to stab people with knives well enough, yes, but deliberately miss? Hah!"

"Monsieur, I'm gonna haf ter ask ya ter be quiet."

Ezio's head snapped up to meet that of a spindly old man glaring at him, a stack of books in his arms. He looked around him, spotting the shelves of leather-bound books spanning the large hall he'd wandered into without really noticing, the room dark and the air stale with the smell of dust. The library.

"Mi dispiace, messere," he murmured quietly, bowing to the man he dimly remembered to be the librarian. "I have had a rather trying day."

The man's frown crinkled into something resembling a sympathetic expression. "Students giving ya trouble, aren't they?" His mouth widened into a wry, toothless smile at Ezio's wordless nod. "Go on already; I shan't trouble ya no more. If it's peace ya seek, the library truly is yer last refuge. Few students here, except the quiet and studious ones! Any questions, come and ask me, will ya?"

"Of course. Good day to you, Messer..."

"Dolus. Just ask fer old Dolus." A dry cackle. "He'll help ya out right enough."

The old man shuffled off slowly, occasionally replacing a book in its shelf while muttering to himself under his breath. Ezio threw him a look full of pity. Every time he walked into the library, the same scene repeated itself the man introducing himself to every visitor in the library, using a different name each time. Dolus today. Pierre the day before. The day before that, it had been Robert. Senility had completely destroyed the old man's mind, and yet he could still remember the location of each and every book in this vast library with perfect clarity, even though the faces of students and teachers, even his own name, eluded him.

Seeing the old man shuffle along the shelves, remembering nothing but the titles of books and the names of authors long claimed by death was a tragedy by itself, was a fate that Ezio couldn't do anything about even if he wanted to.

Ezio shuddered. Old age had taken some of his memories away too. He hoped that it would never happen to him again. He couldn't think of a more terrifying fate.

But now, to find those books again...

Soon, Ezio was seated at a lectern, a little tower of old tomes and scrolls piled up on the little side table. At first, he'd been worried about the language the mages used to write. He spoke and read French well enough, so he could communicate verbally, but he was worried that their script would be completely incomprehensible to a stranger like him.

He was only partly right. The language resembled the alphabet used by the Catholic Church to write their tomes, but it resembled some sort of strange Latin intermixed with Greek and Arabic, along with languages that Ezio had never heard of before... and the script looked like a mixture of symbols all those languages, but were slightly different, as if they had developed differently from the world that Ezio once knew.

The first time he read it, he got a headache after one measly hour, unable to continue as he tried to make sense of this strange world's language and expressions, terms and etymologies that made no sense at all, frustrating his progress. But he doggedly kept at it, continuing to read in the library every day. Each day he read more and more, and after a week, he noticed that he could read more or less fluently, even though he still had to guess every third word for it to make sense. Still, his guesses were getting more accurate, he was sure of it.

For some reason, Ezio thought that learning to read this foreign script was easy. It was as if his brain had suddenly cleared, lapping up knowledge like a thirsty horse would guzzle water from the trough. As if he was back in his youth, studying the Roman classics at his father's knee.

Ezio relished that feeling. But still, he was here for another reason. He now knew that Professor Colbert and the headmaster of the Academy were hiding something from him, even though he didn't exactly know what. Something involving the 'Gandalfr' and the return of something they called the Left Hand of God. Ezio smirked. Listening at windows did occasionally pay off.

Still, they had taken the Apple somewhere he couldn't find it, which was worrying. They called it 'magical', yet they had no idea of the true power the potential, the temptation, the danger that lay within it.

The whole situation sounded ominous to him, so he looked in all books he could: manuals to alchemy and magic, historical genealogies and records, old books that seemed to contain magical lore that he couldn't make head nor tails of, tales and aphorisms told of this world's God, his prophet Brimir and the men and women venerated by the common folk as his 'Saints'...

Nothing. The word Gandalfr and the phrase 'Left Hand of God' only cropped up in a handful of the oldest texts, and even then they were only fleeting mentions that led nowhere when pursued further. No footnotes, no interpretations by later writers, nothing. It was frustrating, especially to a man who had researched and decoded hundreds of years' worth of old coded messages and ancient documents of the Assassin and Templar Orders to search for the location of the fabled Temples or the Pieces of Eden. Leonardo had been the genius with figuring out these things, but his Assassin friend had been an avid student.

Ezio put his book back on the lectern, sighing wearily and closing his eyes. The light coming through the window was already growing faint, the horizon a bloody red as the sun set. Another evening with no tangible results.

Oh, well. I'll just have to come back tomorrow. It looks like I will have enough time in the world anyway.

The Assassin yawned widely, his jaw cracking with disuse. He drew his hand away from his mouth, thoughtfully eyeing the runes on the back of his left hand. He hadn't been able to find any information on those either, but he was sure that they were important in one manner or another. The magicians seemed to attach great importance to them.

He was so lost in thought that he nearly missed the small movement out of the corner of his eye as someone stood next to him. Ezio's arm inside its bracer twitched, an ingrained reflex begging to impale the one who had surprised him.

Luckily he showed restraint, especially considering that it was a frail little girl that stood there, staring at him without blinking.

He smiled. "Buena sera, signorina. Still studying at this late hour?"

Tabitha blinked, shifting the ridiculously large stack of book in her arms slightly, and nodded. Ezio smiled politely. "I see. May I ask what books you're reading?"

The silent girl hesitated for a moment and then nodded mutely, holding the stack out slowly. Ezio picked the first book off the top, carefully opening the cover. You couldn't be too careful with some of these old tomes, a lesson he'd learned quite bitterly when examining Altair's old documents. Some parts had become completely illegible thanks to careless handling.

"'A Repetitorium to the Uses and Applications of Triangle Level Ice Magicke and its derivatives, he read aloud, struggling with the odd symbols and the strange French dialect. He frowned for a moment as he skimmed the first page, understanding none of the terms used, then chuckled as he returned it to Tabitha. "It sounds interesting, but I'm afraid I cannot find any use for it. You must be quite a skilled mage if you are able to comprehend this art." He sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Unfortunately, I haven't found anything remotely related to the thing I have been looking for. Che fastidio..."

"Subject?" Tabitha asked quietly, startling him.

"Pardon?"

The blue-haired girl's expression remaining impassive at his befuddlement. "Research subject," she clarified as she set her books down on a free shelf.

"Er... does the word 'Gandalfr' mean anything to you?" he asked hopefully.

Tabitha cocked her head to the side, did an about-turn and disappeared among the darkening shelves. "Wait here," he heard her whisper before he could ask where she was going.

Ezio shook his head, bemused, and set about cleaning up his lectern. The only people he'd ever met that were as quiet as that odd child were either those struck dumb by illness or the poor souls that had gotten their tongues cut out when the Papal soldiers ransacked Monterrigioni. And even they showed far more emotion than the silent mage.

He was about to leave when Tabitha returned, her step as silent as a ghost's. "Here," she said softly, holding out a small book.

It was old and well-thumbed, though someone seemed to have taken great care of it. She was staring at him intently through her spectacles as he took it, his calloused fingers gently brushing against her small hands. He looked at the title and barely made it out in the dying sunlight from the window: The Book of Brimir.

"Molto curioso... What kind of book is it?"

"Stories," she whispered softly, never looking away. "Parables. Fairytales. A time long gone."

"And you will think I will find what I look for in here?"

"Not think. Certain," she said, her clipped answer all the reassurance that Ezio needed.

The Assassin smiled gratefully, bowing to the small mage. "Mille grazie, signorina. Your generosity truly knows no bounds."

Tabitha's expression never changed, though she seemed unsure at his reverence. Ezio read people far too well not to miss that slight shift in the girl's footing.

"Wait," the girl quietly ordered, before silently stepping to her own stack of books, returning a moment later with another, thicker tome. "For you."

"Me? What is it?"

Tabitha hesitated, just for a moment, before holding the book out a little further. "Present," she said quietly, nearly impossible to hear.

"From you?" He chuckled at the bit of colour that flushed her cheeks. "Generous indeed. Thank you; I accept it gratefully." He quickly slipped the two books into one of the larger pouches on his belt, picked up his stack of books and made another reverent bow. "I bid you good night, signorina." He smiled, repeating the blessing he'd often heard amongst the teachers in the school. "May the Founder and his Saints guide you."

"And you," Tabitha replied softly.

Ezio nodded, walking past the young girl. As he passed a certain corner full of shadow, he paused for a moment, turning his head slightly to peer into the darkness. He smirked widely and winked, disappearing through the library's entrance a moment later.

Tabitha hadn't moved an inch when Kirche approached her a moment later, looking put out. "I think he actually saw me. Did you remember to weave your concealment spell, Tabitha?" The redhead scowled as Tabitha nodded her head. "Then how did he spot me? Your spells are usually flawless."

"Always," she corrected, stepping to the window.

"Well, of course your spells are always flawless," Kirche muttered, tapping her foot in annoyance. "You are undoubtedly the most skilled mage among us students. No commoner should have been able to see through your illusion! How did he of all people do it, then?"

Tabitha shrugged, watching the last rays of the sun disappear through the window. She had a nagging suspicion, but she doubted that it could be true.

And yet, it made so much sense...

Gandalfr.

"He'll be a tricky one to snag," Kirche muttered, tapping her chin in thought. A grin split her face after a moment. "That's fine. It makes the game more interesting. Are you going to help me, Tabitha?"

Tabitha silently picked up her books, carefully balanced the stack in her arms and briskly walked away. The library would close soon.

Kirche pouted. "I guess that's a no, then."

...

In the week before the familiar's examination, Louise figured that something was bothering Ezio. He was still as unfailingly charming as ever to everyone he met, but he seemed withdrawn and distracted. When he wasn't practicing his climbing or swordsmanship or helping out the other servants with the occasional chore, Louise found him with a nose buried in one book or another, lengthy notes in his flowing script scattered everywhere around him. He'd once fallen asleep at a lectern in the library, and Louise, wondering what in the Founder's name could occupy him to such a degree, had skimmed over his writings. She was stunned to find it to be an extremely well-written outline of basic arcane theory, outlining several theories on the source of magic, the basic four elements, and most of their possible combinations and applications. Why a commoner would be interested in magic something he could never attain to such a degree was beyond her.

Now, the afternoon before the arrival of the princess (an event that Louise anticipated with equal parts elation and nervousness), they were both still in the courtyard, crossing swords. Ezio was walking her through her drills and the occasional spar she'd gotten much better since she began, or so she thought but he still seemed to brood over something, his expression thoughtful and distracted.

Louise was getting furious that he still could effortlessly beat her without even really paying attention. She lunged at him, aiming for the weak spot at his inner thigh, only one of many places he had pointed out to her to deal out crippling damage.

A moment later, she was sprawled out on her back, disarmed and her ribs hurting from the blow that the vest-clad man had landed on her chest. She sat up, wheezing and hacking, glaring at Ezio with a baleful eye. "Damn... you..."

"Now now, no complaining," he chided, shaking his head with a small smile. "You're getting better at this, but rushing in like a bull is dangerous. You need to wait for the opportune moment."

"And how do I recognize this opportune moment?" she asked spitefully. "So far, all you seem to do is beat me around the courtyard!"

"Practice, mostly," Ezio said cheerfully, throwing back her sword. She caught it effortlessly. "You can look at your opponent's feet, for example. When he stumbles or when his balance is otherwise unstable," he mimed tripping over his own feet, "rush in when his defence is weak. Or watch his arms and shoulders perhaps you'll spot a weakness or an opening you can break through by the way he holds his wrists, or see when he plans to strike. When he raises his arm for an overhead strike, lunge for the stomach or feet, or perhaps you should evade the first strike and counter-attack when his guard is still extended." The Assassin tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Che altro...I have always found that watching your opponent's expression is a good indicator of when they want to attack. People rarely hide their emotions in battle."

"I can't see or do any of those things yet!" she complained petulantly.

"Which is why I said that it is mostly a question of practice, piccina," Ezio acknowledged, adjusting his grip on the wooden sword, and smiled lightly. "Why do you think I make you spar all the time? It practices your reflexes, your eyes to watch your enemy and the environment around you. The grass, the ground, the walls, the sun in your eye, the sound of my footsteps." A smile flickered around his mouth. "Believe me, you are far more difficult to hit than a week ago."

Louise narrowed her eyes, temper still flaring. "So why do you still beat me around the courtyard like a children's ball?"

He shrugged. "Just because you are more difficult to hit than before does not mean that I cannot hit you. A week of training will not change the fact that you have no experience on the battlefield. I do." Ezio raised his sword in his usual ready stance, smirking. "But don't worry, that's what training is for. Preparati, Louise!"

This time he was the one who was attacking, repeatedly slashing at various openings that Louise had left in her defence. The frail noble backpedalled, evading or redirecting the heavy wooden blade as well as she could. She had learned early that directly blocking Ezio's attacks was a bad idea he was simply stronger and faster than her; even a perfectly executed block could be broken or force her off-balance, leaving her wide open for a coup de grace. So she stepped, evaded and dodged as well as she possibly could.

She stepped to the side, avoiding a lunge that would have speared her through the gut, attempting a counter to Ezio's head immediately afterwards. He ducked under the swing, but was forced to step back as she immediately kept up the attack, slapping aside an overhead swing using the back of a gloved hand with an approving smile.

Louise had no illusions that if Ezio had wanted to kill her, he could have done so instantly. She had seen him fight Guiche, and he'd been far faster and nimble then, cutting through the constructs like a sickle through hay. But this was training, so he was giving her a chance.

He smiled in approval as she quickly struck three times in a row, forcing him to step back to avoid her flurry of blows. He easily deflected her next strike with the point of his wooden sword, and Louise couldn't help but smirk back. She truly was getting better at this, just like he told her.

But still, if she wanted to actually hit him...

She feinted an attack to her left and Ezio turned, blocking her and twirling on the ball of his heel, intending to slash down as he turned. Louise could only imagine his expression of surprise as she grabbed the collar of his vest as his back was turned, pulling on it as hard as she could. He lost his balance, stumbling and falling onto his back at the unexpected attack, and Louise made to stab him as he lied helplessly on the ground.

Ezio was still faster, though: as he fell onto his back, he rolled over his own shoulder, the wooden sword's point missing him with nary an inch or two, regaining his footing and slapping away her next strike with practiced ease.

He didn't press the attack, though, looking at her with an odd expression that was both surprised and intrigued. Louise lowered her own sword, disappointed. "Merde alors," she muttered dejectedly, frowning. "It didn't work."

"Louise," Ezio asked carefully. "Why exactly did you do that? Grabbing me, I mean."

She scowled at him. "You know exactly why I did, you smug jerk! You're faster than me, you're stronger than me, and you had Founder knows how many years to gain experience!" She pointed her sword at him in anger. "I couldn't beat you in swordplay even if I wanted to! Not in a hundred years. So I had to try something else, something you wouldn't expect."

"So you tried to grab my collar to get me off-balance?" he asked incredulously. "Isn't that what you nobles here consider 'cheating'?"

"It nearly worked, didn't it?" she fired back belligerently.

Ezio just looked at her before bursting out in laughter. "Yes, it nearly did. Well done, Louise, well done indeed!" He patted her head, chortling. She glowered at him, angry and confused by his sudden show of affection. She had expected him to be angry. "I thought that you were never going to understand, but you are learning well! If you cannot beat a foe the normal way, cheat! That's how the greatest swordsmen win their battles!"

"Is that so?" a voice called out from behind Louise. She flinched and turned around quickly.

There, near the entrance to the hall, stood Guiche de Gramont. His arms, whole once again, were folded across his chest and he was scowling at the two of them, his expression quietly furious. He looked the same as ever in his dapper uniform and open shirt, but there was a new thing that drew the eye when looking at him. The scar across the bridge of his nose was there, cutting deep into his skin, the angry red slash marring the good looks and pretty face he'd once been so proud of.

Guiche hadn't taken his defeat during the duel in the courtyard very well at all. He'd been exposed as a shameless womanizer and soundly thrashed by someone unable to use magic, someone who was supposed to be inferior to him. The other boys had distanced himself from him and his disgrace, the girls keeping as far away from him as they could. His fiancé Montmorency apparently still hadn't forgiven him, refusing to even look to him, even when he tried to approach her. Louise knew that had the duel taken place at court, the Gramont family would have been the laughingstock of the entire nobility. Even now, rumours about his father's reaction to his youngest son's defeat still flew about, a subject which Guiche stoically refused to talk about.

So it surprised Louise that he had decided to keep his scar. Guiche was one of the vainest people she ever knew, proud of his good looks and shameless enough to use them to get his way. Any decently skilled healer would have been able to remove the ugly scar, Sister Catherine especially, yet Guiche had kept it. It defied everything Louise thought she knew about him. Had he once been jovial and cheerful, though condescending and arrogant, he was now far more quiet and taciturn, avoiding people whenever he could. It was worrying.

He now strode towards them, still glaring angrily at Ezio. "Is that what you mean to say, Seigneur Ezio? If you cannot defeat your opponent by honourable means, one ought to cheat, to soil their own name and that of their family? To disgrace themselves?"

Ezio shrugged nonchalantly, not even looking particularly surprised at the interruption. "I prefer being disgraced to being dead. Life is usually more enjoyable that way."

"Don't you have any shame?" Guiche cried out, looking frustrated. Louise quickly stepped out of his way, leaving a clear space between the two men. There was no wand in Guiche's hand, but it always paid to be careful with angry nobles. "Honour is what defines nobility! Without honour, magic is just a tool in a fool's hand, wielded for nothing more than the mage's gratification and petty desires!"

"Like the way you sought to humiliate me?" Ezio asked sharply, unflinching. "Like the way you wanted to silence me when I disgraced you in front of your peers? By wielding magic against someone who you thought was helpless?"

Guiche's mouth had snapped shut, unable to answer, so he simply glared at Ezio, his fists clenching violently at his sides, as if restraining himself from doing something he might regret later. His fingers slackened a moment later and he sighed, hanging his head.

"I have regretted my actions since the day you defeated me, Seigneur Ezio," he admitted quietly. "I was rash, I was short-sighted, I was foolish. Even if I had beaten you into the ground, I wouldn't have been in the right. I still would have been nothing more than a spoiled brat lording himself over others. Sooner or later, I would have offended someone who wouldn't tolerate my foolishness and with the power to destroy me utterly. My humiliation opened my eyes."

He suddenly fell to one knee, bowing his head as low as he could. "Which is why I humbly beg your forgiveness."

Louise stared at Guiche, dumbfounded. Even Ezio looked surprised, blinking quickly. "Prego?"

"I apologize for treating you like a common servant!" Guiche yelled out quite suddenly, making Louise jump. "I apologize for trying to blame you for my own disgraceful behaviour! I apologize for the way I insulted you and Mademoiselle de la Vallière!"

Now that shocked her to the core. Guiche had never referred to her with such a respectful form or address. She'd always been 'Zero' or 'Vallière'. Most students in the school refused to even talk to her, and 'Mademoiselle young lady, the term for a young, unmarried girl of noble birth was only rarely used, and then only by friendly teachers like Colbert or out of grudging necessity by her peers.

"And I also want to thank you for something else, Seigneur Ezio," Guiche mumbled quietly, but her sharp ears still caught it. "I want to thank you for sparing my life. You could have killed me without consequence, but you showed mercy. I thank you. I now know what true nobility is, even though you carry no title."

During his shouted rant of apologies and mumbled thanks, Guiche had never raised his head once, keeping it bowed in shame. Ezio just watched him thoughtfully before suddenly bursting out in laughter, causing the boy to look up at him in confusion.

"Well, that was unnecessarily dramatic, ragazzo!" the Assassin chortled, holding out a hand to the startled Guiche. With a quick tug, the confused noble was up on his feet, not really knowing what to say.

Ezio chuckled at his befuddled expression. "While I do appreciate your apologies and thanks, I do not really think that I am the one that needs them!" He raised a stern finger as Guiche opened his mouth to protest, cutting him off instantly. "You hurt the feelings of two very beautiful ladies that day, Messer de Gramont. I expect you to apologize to them as well. I think they would appreciate it more than I ever would."

The blond playboy winced with guilt. "Yes... I'm quite aware of that. But I felt that I should apologize to you first, for some reason..."

"It's easier to face your mortal enemy than the wrath of a woman you've fallen for, isn't it?" Ezio said knowingly, throwing an arm around Guiche's shoulder and winking.

"That's definitely true, yes," Guiche agreed, unable to stop himself from laughing nervously.

"You should talk to them soon," Ezio recommended cheerfully. "If you leave them to stew on it and think it over, you will have to endure more of their litanies later! And they get more inventive too!"

"And how would you know that, Seigneur Ezio?" Guiche fired back, all nervousness lost and instead smiling amicably, though he still looked slightly baffled.

Ezio grinned slyly and made a dramatic gesture. "Let me tell you a story of a young man of Firenze and the stupid mistake he made with a certain lady from Genua..."

Louise watched in fascination as Ezio and Guiche chatted animatedly with each other, almost as if they were old friends. The Assassin was telling the youth some sort of tale it wasn't exactly difficult to work out who the 'stupid young man' in the story was Ezio narrating with good humour and a twinkle in his eye, Guiche laughing and making the occasional comment. They looked like any two friends sharing lewd stories and trading jokes a common enough sight in the Academy. They looked nothing like two men who just tried to brutally slaughter each other just a week ago.

"–and then she fell down the balcony because she was haranguing me as loudly as she could, and I had to jump into the river to save her from drowning! She was surprisingly... grateful later, though," Ezio said with a mischievous wink, making Guiche laugh out loud. Ezio sighed dreamily, lost in blissful remembrance. "And that is the story how I lost my innocence."

"All right!" Louise called out loudly, her face flushing a deep ruby red. "As fascinating as your bedroom escapades may be–"

"Oh, did you hear that, Messer Gramont?" Ezio said, elbowing the youth in the ribs with a large grin on his face. "She finds those stories 'fascinating', she says! Do you think I should tell a few more? Why, there was this incident once in a bordello with a jackass, a honeycomb, and a priest who happened to pass by on business–"

"ENOUGH!" Louise yelled, flushing a dark red all the way to her throat, Guiche shaking with repressed mirth and Ezio doing nothing to hide the shit-eating grin on his face. "I came here to learn swordsmanship, not to hear tasteless stories about your exploits with some goddamned courtesans!"

"Some of the finest women I ever knew were whores, Louise," he chided, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval. "You should not insult them; it's terribly rude."

"I– what– rude– You were the one who called them whores!" she spluttered indignantly.

"Well, that's what they are," Ezio answered pragmatically, looking entirely too unconcerned. "I mean, the nobility uses the term 'mistress' because they don't want to admit that they have the same depraved urges as the 'filthy' commoners do, but–"

He managed to push Guiche away just in time to block Louise's furious strike aimed to slice him open from throat to groin. Even though she was holding a wooden stick, he didn't doubt her intent. He raised an eyebrow at her murderous expression as they broke apart. "Mi scusi, have I offended you?"

"Oh no, Ezio," she said, her tone deceptively sweet and even. Her face was still purple with rage, though, her eyes glinting dangerously. "This is just me practicing to find those openings you told me about. Practice makes perfect, right?"

"Well, I'm glad to know that these sticks are blunt, then," he said drily as they began circling each other warily. "Too much practice and you might start cutting me in earnest."

"I'm sure that Sister Catherine could reattach a limb or two. If you asked her nicely," she added with a vicious smile.

"How decidedly disconcerting... I think you can see, Messer de Gramont," Ezio called out to a concerned Guiche, "that my mistress has found a new motivation to learn! So," he dodged a slash to the throat, parrying quickly as Louise charged towards him recklessly, "if you'll just excuse us for now!"

Louise lunged forward, stabbing at him with several short bursts of speed. However, Ezio pushed against her, trapping the crossguard of his sword against hers, locking it in place. Louise snarled and tried to push against him, but Ezio kicked out, his foot slamming into her stomach and sending her flying. Louise tried to stand and winced painfully, clutching what she knew was later going to be a colourful bruise.

"You have to be careful, Louise," Ezio admonished, hauling her to her feet. Louise gasped in pain, still winded. "A good swordsman doesn't only use their sword, they use everything at their disposal feet, fists, elbows, kicks, a handful of dust to get an enemy off balance." He smiled genially at her as she glared at him, still unable to speak through the pain and lack of air. "Ah, don't frown like that. It does not become you very well. I am sure you will thank me later. Care to join in, Messer de Gramont?" he called out cheerfully.

Guiche blinked. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" the fop asked, startled.

"Do you want to practice swordsmanship as well?" Ezio repeated with a smile. "After your dismal performance last time, I think you need it."

"...You'd help me to learn how to use the sword?"

"Of course!"

"Why?" the youth asked, flabbergasted. "I tried to kill you! Humiliate you!"

"Well, considering that it was you who ended up looking like a fool and the noticeable lack of you trying to stab me with metal women at this moment, I think I can trust you not to try and kill me with a wooden stick during practice." Ezio chuckled. "Besides, Louise needs a sparring partner that doesn't constantly beat her into the ground."

"Thank you, Ezio," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I really needed that confidence boost."

"See? She agrees!" Ezio said, clapping Louise in the back with a grin. Louise winced, the various bruises all over her body flaring painfully. "We usually practice when the bell tolls five, after classes are done. Join us if you wish, Messere."

"I will!" Guiche said, sounding surprisingly happy. He produced his signature rose wand from the inside of his robes, striking a dramatic pose with hot-blooded enthusiasm. "But not today! Not yet! First, I must apologize to the two visions of loveliness degraded by my disgraceful behaviour and beg their forgiveness! Only then will I accept to learn the secrets of your awe-inspiring swordsmanship! I look forward to it, Ser Ezio! I will learn everything I can so that I can redeem myself! I promise you that!" He gave them both a deep, elaborate courtly bow, beaming as he stood up. "Until then, I wish you a good evening, Seigneur Ezio, Mademoiselle de la Vallière!"

And with a last dramatic flourish of his rose, he turned on his heel and walked back into the halls of the Academy, his confident stride returned at last. Ezio and Louise watched until he disappeared, the first with poorly hidden amusement, the other with distaste.

"I don't like him," Louise said bluntly. "He gets on my nerves."

"And why is that, prego?"

"He overdramatizes everything he does, like the main actor in a cheap play," she said disdainfully. "He would have done well in a group of travelling comedians, I'm sure."

Ezio laughed. "He would make a good capitano, I'm sure!"

"What's that?"

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you nobles supposed to be cultured? You should visit the theatre every once in a while."

Louise glared right back. "I've never been." Theatre, and any culture besides history and music lessons, for that matter, hadn't exactly been one of her mother's priorities. History, yes. Strategy, yes. Magic, yes. Anything remotely smacking of weak decadence? No.

"Really? I'll take you one day." Ezio stretched his arms over his head, sighing. "I quite like him, you know."

"Who?"

"Guiche. He reminds me of myself when I was younger. Young, brash, foolish, and an inveterate skirt-chaser. Seeing him act like this is... nostalgic, in a way."

"Really?" she said drily. "What happened to change that attitude of yours, then?"

"My family was accused of treason and publicly hanged from the gallows in the town square."

Louise's breath caught in her throat and she stared at him, stricken. He'd said it so casually, but his smile was gone, replaced with an unreadable expression. He was looking up at the clouds, his eyes seemingly staring at something far away. No mocking smirk, no teasing grin. By that alone, she knew that he was telling the truth.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have asked."

Ezio blinked and looked down at her, chuckling after a moment. "How could you have possibly known?" he said, patting her head like that of a child's and making her pout. "It's not important. It happened so long ago... I have come to terms with it."

"Have you really?" Louise asked, unable to stop herself as the words blurted out. "Accepted it, I mean," she added quickly, taking the plunge.

Ezio stilled and he simply stood there, thinking for a moment. "I guess I have," he said slowly, smiling wistfully. "For a long time, nothing but hate drove me. But after years, decades even, of living with that hate, I realized that it was all useless."

"...What was useless?"

He chuckled. "That's a story for another time, piccina. Now," he said with a cheerful grin, "let's get back to practice! God knows that you need it."

"Fine," she grumbled unhappily, assuming the starting position without even really thinking about it.

Ezio nodded approvingly. "That's a good form, Louise, but I actually meant that we should practice your magic for a bit."

"Magic?" she asked, flabbergasted. "Why in Brimir's name are we going to practice that?"

Ezio shrugged. "Why shouldn't we? You're a mage, vero?"

"But how are we going to practice?" she asked, grimacing. "You're a commoner, and I'm..."

"A failure," Ezio finished bluntly at her hesitation. "Louise the Zero. The only student to consistently fail all practical exams ever set by the Royal Magical Academy of Tristain. The most prominent student expected to be expelled for lack of magical aptitude in the last century."

She glared defiantly at him. "You're surprisingly well informed."

Ezio smirked back insolently. "You told me most of that yourself the day we met, remember? And the servants can be quite chatty once you get to know them."

"Even the commoners know about my failure?" Louise asked, sounding horrified.

The Assassin laughed at her expression. "Louise, these are the men and women that clean your rooms and serve your tables! Why shouldn't they know what you talk about amongst yourselves? Servants always know far more than you want them to, I assure you!"

"Great," she said drily, rolling her eyes. "Even the commoners make fun of me, then?"

"Perhaps they do, perhaps they don't... Why do you care? Does it really matter what unimportant commoners think of you?" he asked shrewdly, teasing.

"Oh, forget it!" she said, throwing up her arms in exasperation. "What was this all-important thing with my magic that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What impatience!" Ezio chuckled as she scowled. "All right, I will be serious now, I promise." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "How to put this... I have a question for you."

"Ask, then."

"It might annoy you, though... Well, then: did all of the spells you ever try to cast fail?"

She glared at him, but Ezio just looked back expectantly, tapping the wooden practice stick in a gloved palm.

Louise sighed, realizing that Ezio wouldn't simply stop because she decided to have a temper tantrum and storm off. He would just wait and ask tomorrow, or harangue her until he got an answer. He was stubborn like that. She poked the ground listlessly with her stick. "Yes, they all failed. Without exception."

"How, exactly, did they fail?"

She looked up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if you failed to do something, that means that you failed to achieve some sort of goal, right?" Ezio explained, sounding entirely too nonchalant. "When you cast magic, what exactly is your goal?"

"Now you're just confusing me," she said tersely.

Ezio rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Fine, altessa. Cast some magic, please."

"What, right now?"

"I can give you an invitation in writing, if you want, but I am not so sure that I am skilled enough to get your strange script right."

"All right, here goes," she snapped, raising her wand angrily.

Ezio backed off, frantically waving his arms. "Not at me, woman! I'd like to keep my limbs in one place, per favore! Aim for the tree trunk over there!"

"Spoilsport," she muttered, but did as she was told, taking aim at the tree at the other side of the courtyard. Concentrating, she focused on that vein of power she felt within her mind, restlessly twisting and coiling like an oiled snake, doing its best to elude her grasp. She began muttering the incantation, and she found the magic becoming docile, far more pliable, far more willing to listen to her.

"Fireball!" she called out, pointing the wand confidently.

Instead of the conflagration she expected, though, the tree trunk violently exploded, sending splinters everywhere.

Louise snarled, frustrated. That wasn't supposed to happen!

To her surprise, Ezio whistled, impressed. "Dio e cielo..."

He marched over to the tree, Louise reluctantly following as he inspected the melon-sized hole that had been punched cleanly through the front and back of the thick tree trunk. When she approached, Ezio turned towards her, raising an eyebrow. "Merda, Louise. You don't do things halfway, do you?"

"If you're referring to my failure..." she growled, hand clenching on her wand.

"Failure?" Ezio asked incredulously, pointing at the hole in the tree. "Have you seen what you have just done? You just made a remote target explode at a distance with a mere word and a wave of a glorified piece of wood! If that's not magic, what exactly is it supposed to be, then?"

"But that wasn't supposed to happen!" she wailed. "I was trying to conjure fire!"

Ezio gasped in mocking disbelief. "Oh, so it did not work exactly the way you wanted it to. Che orrore!" He became serious again, looking stern. "How dare you call yourself a failure when you are capable of things the commoners of this land can only dream of? Myself, I would have killed to be a walking musket."

She glared at him. "Now I know you're making fun of me."

Ezio palmed his face, getting more and more annoyed by the minute. None of his novices had been so... obstinate when attending his lessons. Having a reputation as a living legend amongst hired killers, he decided, was a teaching aid he was going to miss. "I am definitely not mocking you! Now please stop being so stubborn and look at the tree, bene? If anything, this little stunt you pulled proves that you're capable of magic!" He looked at the violated tree and frowned. "Well, at least you can conjure explosions, even if you cannot do anything else," he amended.

"What, you mean I'm only capable of blowing things to smithereens?" she asked sceptically. "That's not exactly useful."

"Making anyone and anything explode into tiny bits and pieces? Sounds like a rather useful talent to me," he said sardonically. "If I could make things explode with my mind, I'm sure I would feel a lot safer about walking into a dark alleyway, no?" He tapped his chin. "Now, if you could only learn to control the size and intensity of the explosion instead of making things disintegrate at random..."

"And how are we going to do that? Blow up as many things as possible and see what happens?" she asked sarcastically. Ezio grinned at her. "...I was joking."

"Well, I wasn't." He walked back towards the other end of the courtyard, still grinning rather maniacally. "Let's try it again! Andiamo, no loafing about!"

Deciding that her familiar was quite insane, Louise nevertheless followed him. At Ezio's urging, she again tried to feel for the power inside her, but instead of trying to conjure fire or manipulate one of the other elements as she usually did, she visualized something exploding outwards with great power.

Like that keg of gunpowder she'd once seen catch fire in her father's arsenal...

"Explosion!" she called out, pointing her wand.

There was a sound like a cannon going off, catching her completely off guard. The tree trunk literally burst apart higher along its length in a spectacular shower of sawdust, the grated wood being blown everywhere by the rush of air that accompanied the display of magic.

Ezio and Louise both blinked, both liberally covered in the powdered wood.

"Well, that seems to have worked..." Ezio said slowly. "It looks as if you can control the power of your spells after all—"

There was an ominous creaking sound before the tree toppled sideways, the upper part crashing to the ground in a rain of splinters and twisted wood before coming to a rest with a surprisingly human-sounding groan.

"—but I think it would be best that we go into the forest if we plan on continuing this. I do not think you would want to accidentally blow up a wall." He considered the obliterated tree. "Or the whole school, for that matter."

"No," Louise said faintly, puffing away a speck of sawdust on her nose. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Blowing up the school, I mean. Going into the forest sounds good, though. Yes."

Master and familiar quickly left the courtyard before someone could ask who would be responsible for cleaning up this mess.

...

"Well, that was exhausting," Louise grumbled as she changed into her nightclothes.

"What was?" Ezio called out.

"I don't think I've ever used that much magic in one sitting in years!" Louise answered loudly, frowning at the wide open window showing the dark town outside. "Can you please come back in now? It's freezing!"

"Stop complaining," Ezio retorted, and she thought she could actually hear the grin in his voice. "A little fresh air will do you good, no? You're not very robust to start with!"

Louise marched over to the window, leaning outside and glaring at her familiar, who was casually sitting on a stone gargoyle and relaxing against the wall of the dormitory wing, not caring that he was high enough to break all the bones in his body if he should fall. Though after seeing him climb the highest tower in the Academy and jump into a haystack without even getting scratched, Louise seriously doubted him ever falling to his death. For all his unassuming physique, he was as balanced as any travelling acrobat and as lithe as any cat she'd ever seen. It was unnerving, really.

"Using spells makes us mages tired, considering that we use part of our concentration and willpower to perform spells." She glared at him. "Didn't you read about that kind of thing in the library? I thought you were interested in magic."

He shrugged, hands knotted behind his head. "I am. But that doesn't change the fact that I don't know what it feels like to cast a spell. I'm nothing but a commoner, remember?"

She shook her head as he grinned insolently at her. If she would have to use a word to describe Ezio, 'common' would be the last word she'd ever think of. Not that she would ever say that to his face he'd only tease her again and walk around with a smug smile all day.

"Tomorrow is the Familiar's Fair. I expect you to be ready and rested for it," she ordered, doing her best to sound imperious and regal.

He gave her a small mocking bow, elegantly twirling his hand in the air. "Your wish is my command, signorina. Ever faithful to you."

She snorted, not buying his act for a second. Ezio might have been charming, but he was anything but submissive. She couldn't help but think that he was treating all of this as an amusing diversion, a little joke he was indulging in. It rankled at her, not even getting taken seriously by her own familiar, but she could forgive him tonight.

When she blew out her candle, climbed into her bed and drew the curtains around her four-poster bed, she still felt that small feeling of giddy elation inside her. Ezio smug, arrogant, teasing, infuriating, and absolutely brilliant Ezio had been right after all! She really was a mage!

They had spent the rest of evening in the forest, trying to exactly work out what Louise's magic could do and what not. It had been nearly midnight when they returned, muddy and dirty from blowing up trees all day, but Louise had rarely felt better. There was a logic, a system to her strange use of magic, and both she and Ezio were sure that they'd found the first foothold for Louise to master it.

Magic was all about control and intent. It was the utter lack of control and wanton destruction accompanying every single one of her spells that had frustrated her teachers and nearly sent Louise into despair. But she could control her magic if she had the intent to control her explosions. After blowing up a huge amount of trees in the forests surrounding the academy, she'd found she could manipulate the size of an explosion, its intensity, and the radius of its after-effects.

She had control. She really could do magic! She wasn't a failure!

Well, you're less of a failure now, a treacherous voice spoke in the back of her mind, whispering. But you're still Louise the Zero. That hasn't really changed, has it?

...Be quiet.

Oh, little girl, the voice continued with a chuckle, do you really think people will call you a mage now if all you can do is destroy things? You can't build things like Guiche. You can't heal like Montmorency. You can't conjure fire like Kirche. You can't control the very air like Tabitha can. You've always been different... And compared to them, you are still worthless.

Louise had now buried her head into her pillow, clutching it violently. I thought I had told you to shut up!

Perhaps, but I'm not going to listen, the voice that sounded so eerily like her mother's continued, stern and perhaps even lightly amused. Someone needs to take you down a peg or two. Overconfidence breeds arrogance, and arrogance breeds malice...

Those were Mother's words. Louise gritted her teeth, clenching her eyes shut. Whoever you are, you are NOT my mother.

Perhaps not. But you certainly cannot silence me like those peers of yours that doubted your skills by simply glaring and walking away. Fleeing. I'll just follow you until you can hear nothing but my voice... and right now, compared to the other students at this school, you are still worthless, and you always will be.

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Louise screamed out loud, her yelling muffled by the pillow crushed in her arms.

"Louise?" she heard a worried voice call out quietly. Her eyes snapped back open, and she saw that Ezio had drawn back the curtains, black eyes looking at her with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Nothing!" she snapped. "I'm fine, I'm fine..."

"Baggianate!" he retorted, sitting himself down next to her in the bed and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "You're crying."

Louise dabbed at her eyes, surprised to feel wetness on her cheeks. She glared at Ezio, despising him for seeing her as weak as she was now. "I hate you."

His mouth quirked in a small smile. "You don't."

"And how would you know that, pray?" she challenged.

"You have never felt true hate," he said quietly, still smiling. "True, burning hate; the kind that consumes every single part of your being until your only wish is to see the world consumed in flames, to make the world that caused that pain to be destroyed in its entirety."

"And how would be so sure?" she asked, her voice dropping to a small whisper as her head fell on his shoulder. "Apparently, I can only destroy things. What makes you think that I don't want to see the world burn?"

He chuckled. "Assurdo. I have seen men and women defined by their hate, and those that stepped back from the abyss. You saved Guiche from death at my hands because you felt it was right. When you had the choice, you stepped away. Don't worry, piccina." He gave her shoulder a small squeeze, smiling. "You do not hate me. You do not hate anyone. You have nothing to fear."

"...I can still hear the voices, you know."

He frowned. "What voices?"

She shuddered in his arms, and again he noticed how frail she was. "They come at night," she whispered, eyes closed and shivering. "Like a bee buzzing at the edge of my mind. I hear them, whispering and mocking me and telling me all of my faults and mistakes and they don't stop–"

"Do you pray, Louise?"

She blinked, looking at him in nonplussed confusion. "Of course I do."

"To whom?"

"God. Brimir. His Saints." She frowned at Ezio, who looked far more serious than usual. "What does it matter?"

"Then pray," he said, looking at her with complete seriousness. "Perhaps it will help."

She scoffed. "It never has before."

"Try again," he said, insistent. He smiled, running a hand through her hair that glowed in the moonlight. "Perhaps He will listen, just for tonight."

"...Alright," she conceded, slipping out of his hold and sighing. "I guess it can't hurt."

Ezio nodded, smiling as he patted her head and got up. "Bene. I'm sure it will help you sleep."

"Let's see," she said listlessly, looking unconvinced. She nevertheless leant back into her pillow, folded her hands and closed her eyes, trying to remember the words from long ago.

A moment later, she spoke quietly, almost singing under her breath.

"Hail to thee, eternal God, Lord of lords and King of kings.
Thou who hath created the seas and its fishes, we thank thee.
Thou who hath created the earth and its crops and animals, we thank thee.
Thou who hath created mankind in thy image, free to roam this beautiful world of thy creation, we thank thee."

Ezio had stepped back to the window to close the window, absentmindedly listening to the quiet prayer. He surveyed the city outside, frowning as his sharp eyes spotted some movement at one of the main gates in the wall below. The moonlight disappeared, replaced by darkness as he narrowed his eyes at the group of riders that were cantering through the dark streets. Louise was still praying, her soft voice sounding as if she was remembering a children's song.

"Though we may walk in darkness, thou hast sent thy saints to lead us.
Though we may be clouded by ignorance, thou hast sent thy Founder to teach us.
Though we may be thy creatures, weak of flesh and mind, thou hast sent thy sword and shield to protect us, and your Right and Left Hand to carry out thy will."

Ezio had carefully observed the gates of the town when he had some free time to wander the streets it always paid to know what kind of travellers visited a town. Most of the town's visitors were peasants from the surrounding countryside selling their produce, or merchants travelling in caravans to hawk their wares. Richly-clad courtiers and harried messengers galloped through the gates at regular intervals it was obvious that the Academy of Tristain held some political significance, as isolated and small a town it may have been.

But this group was different. For a start, the guards didn't bother stopping them, instead hurriedly getting out of their way.

"Though we may be weak and terrified, thou hast granted us power over thy domain, to protect us against the unknown horrors that wish us harm, and for that we thank and praise thee.
Surely as thy wrath is great and thy mercy is infinite, thou willst lead us back to the Homeland, in all its glory and greatness, where milk and honey run in rivers, to drive out the heathens residing there and create thy kingdom."

The group was cantering at an even pace towards the academy building, and even from a distance Ezio could see that all of them were experienced riders, moving in a practiced battle formation that denoted wariness. They all wore concealing hoods and travelling cloaks, but Ezio distinctly saw the sharp rapiers and arming swords hanging at their sides, the pistols and riding muskets in their bandoliers and saddles standing out starkly in the eye of his mind.

Ezio observed the group dismount in the courtyard below, their horses getting taken away by practiced stablehands in complete silence. Not a single word was uttered, the only sound being a horse's occasional snort and clopping hoof. In fact, the servants didn't even seem surprised at the riders' arrival at this ungodly hour, which probably meant that these men and women were expected by someone.

The Assassin closed the window quietly, frowning. Two dozen men and women, all experienced riders with battle-trained chargers, and armed to the teeth arriving in complete secrecy. Yet none of them seemed to be mages, at least not at first glance. That didn't bode well at all.

He heard Louise yawn quietly as she finished her prayer in a sleepy whisper. "May thy Founder... and thy Saints... and the Father of Understanding guide us."

"...That's a nice prayer," Ezio said softly as he silently walked to her bedside, doing his best to mask his surprise.

The last line of that prayer seemed eerily familiar. A Templar blessing, in fact.

"Thank you," Louise said sleepily, her eyes already drooping closed. She yawned again. "It's the Founder's Prayer... The first prayer any disciple of Brimir learns..."

"Do you know who wrote it, piccina?" he asked quietly, insistently, kneeling at her bedside.

Louise shrugged sleepily, eyes already closed. "Who knows? My mother taught it to me... it's said that the prayer was given to Brimir by God himself on a mountaintop in the Homeland..."

Ezio frowned as he took one of Louise's hands, stroking a thumb across it in a soothing manner like he'd done with his own daughter, even as his thoughts were awhirl. Isn't that the legend of Moses receiving the Decalogo from God at Sinai? But that's in the Bible, isn't it? Che fastidioso... Then what is it doing here in this strange world so far from home?

"Louise, can you tell me someth–" He stopped as he saw that she had fallen asleep, breathing lightly and evenly, her eyes peacefully closed.

Ezio couldn't help smiling ruefully. "Ah, Louise, tu sei una peste..." He gently gathered her bedcovers, pulling them up to her chin and making sure she was warm. Just like he had always done with Flavia. Louise moved slightly, snuggling back under the cover and now breathing easier.

Ezio chuckled quietly, quietly drawing the bed curtains behind him. "Good night, piccina. Sleep well. I am here for you."

Ezio himself quietly walked to his own mattress in the corner next to the door, a cheap linen affair filled with straw that Marteau had graciously loaned him (at Siesta's insistence, of course). Quitting his boots and leaving his dagger in easy reach, he soon drifted off into fitful slumber, his mind reeling with prayers and bibles and Founders.

Sleep wouldn't come easy that night.

...

At another one of the academy town's gates, a cloaked figure slipped past the snoring guards, the men having collapsed where they fell.

The woman, her distinctive green hair hidden underneath her hood, scoffed contemptuously. Her illusion had been nowhere near necessary – the men had been all but sleeping while standing, considering the tedium of guard duty at night – but it had been useful nonetheless. It was better to be safe than sorry, after all.

One of the guards, probably more resistant to magic than the others, mumbled something and moved in his sleep, as if to stand up. The woman lashed out, a heavy boot slamming into the side of his head and knocking him out cold. He wouldn't remember anything the next day except for a strange dream, cursing his bad luck when found out by the sergeant in charge of the gate.

Better safe than sorry. It was a creed that Fouquet – known here as Mademoiselle de Longueville, the youngest daughter of a minor noble and the headmaster's unassuming secretary – had lived by for many years now. It had helped, considering she was still alive to prove it.

An hour later, Fouquet was at a remote hill in the wild forests surrounding the academy, dropping small objects at regular intervals and waving her wand while muttering long, complicated incantations under her breath before moving on.

Fouquet looked up as she heard a dry branch crack, a flick of her wand sending out a fireball into the darkness of the surrounding wounds. There was a sharp yelp of pain as a predator's fur was singed, sending the animal scuttling away with a howl of pain.

Fouquet smiled in satisfaction as she continued with her preparations. There were few animals that could harm a mage, skilled or unskilled. No matter how clever or strong a wild beast may have been, they could do nothing against the pure fury of the elements summoned to cut them down. The same principle applied to humans – anyone with magic could dominate a commoner. It was a simple fact of life, and people had more or less accepted it, deciding to get on with their lives under the nobles' yoke.

There's an exception to every rule, though...

Fouquet frowned, remembering the Vallière girl's familiar slicing through puppets with contemptuous ease, as if they were nothing more than wheat before the scythe, felling a mage with nothing more than weapons and brutal, yet surprisingly efficient methods.

She remembered secretly watching the fight from a window of the academy. The familiar had been apprehensive, but never unduly nervous, concentrating solely on defeating his opponent. Taunting the young student mage had been just another tool to break down his opponent and cause him to make mistakes, allowing him to take advantage of the Gramont boy's weakness and fear. And he hadn't hesitated at all to use the chance to end the mismatched duel when he could.

She remembered his eyes during the duel black, cold, and utterly calculating as he dismembered Guiche de Gramont piece by piece, limb by limb, until all that was left of the boy was a crying, snivelling, and utterly broken mess on the ground behind him. A true killer.

Fouquet shook her head, smiling ruefully as she prepared another magical nexus point for her ritual. Why was she worried? Guiche de Gramont was a fool. Naturally talented, perhaps, but no one would have called him a trained warrior or particularly intelligent. Taking down a few hollow bronze puppets was certainly surprising – for a commoner, at least. But in retrospect, it was no great feat. Her worries were completely unnecessary.

After much walking, she stopped and held out an open hand, a small penknife in the other. With a grimace, she slashed the small blade across her palm, letting a few drops of her blood fall to the forest ground, muttering the final incantations all the while. She had finally completed her circle.

For a moment, nothing happened until the powerful Triangle-class mage felt something move beneath her feet move. The earth itself came alive, bowing to her will.

Fouquet smirked. There was a great difference between a few hollow bronze puppets and a specially created Blood Golem – the Vallière girl's familiar would be hard pressed to destroy something towering higher than the town walls, not to mention made of solid rock, grounded earth and sediment. From him, Fouquet had nothing to fear. The other mages like Colbert, Osmond, not to mention the royal heir Henrietta would be far more troublesome...

...But still, better to overdo things than fail miserably because she hadn't been properly prepared. Fouquet felt the earth move at her command, the hills changing slightly before becoming still on her orders, it could reform into any shape she wished it to, from a towering humanoid monster to a wall to a landscape of her own devising.

Fouquet couldn't hold back her smirk. It would be fun to see how he would react to this little plan of hers...

...

The original light novels of Familiar of Zero (Zero no Tsukaima) were written by Noboru Yamaguchi, originally published by Media Factory in 2004, and are still ongoing after twenty volumes and a four-season anime adaptation by J.C. Staff that premiered in July 2006.

The original video game Assassin's Creed was originally released in 2007 by Ubisoft, followed by its sequels Assassin's Creed II (2009), Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood (2010), and Assassin's Creed: Revelations (2011). At the time of this writing (May 2012), Assassin's Creed III is announced to be released in October 2012.

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