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...

6. Chapter VI – The Familiar's Fair

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 original work and its associated franchise, 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.

...

Ladies and gentlemen, both long-time readers and newer ones, a very, very warm welcome to the Chapter Six of On The Wings Of An Eagle!

After an odyssey of broken computers, foreign keyboards, and a shitload of handwritten notes, I have finally gotten to updating this story. Thanks a lot for the reviews, they were the encouragement I needed when I felt the need to bang my head against the wall.

My Author's Notes will be more detailed at the end of this chapter, so I'm kind of breaking tradition. In any case, 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 VI – The Familiar's Fair

...

Sleep refused to take Ezio Auditore as he lay on his straw-filled mattress, tossing and turning uncomfortably. As much as the arrival of the unknown riders bothered him, they weren't the reason why he was so unsettled. No, what was wracking his mind was that last line of Louise's prayer.

The Father of Understanding. That elusive figure that the Templars spoke of to greet each other, to swear their oaths, to recognize each other across the multitudes of the civilized world. For a very long time, Ezio had assumed that this 'Father' was some sort of senior figure in the Templars' hierarchy, only to be repeatedly proven wrong when uncovered not one, but two Grand Masters of the Templars, no authority higher than theirs to be found anywhere. His other theory, that of the Father being a guardian deity of some kind, was also disproven when the Templars turned out to be as agnostic, atheistic, and individually religious as the Assassins themselves. The Father of Understanding wasn't revered, prayed to, or given offerings. Ezio had infiltrated enough Templar strongholds and spied on enough of their meetings to at last know that.

So Ezio, who had rather more important things to worry about in his capacity as Mentore, decided to leave the matter be. His hunt for the Pieces of Eden and those mysterious Temples, the reconstruction of the various branches of the Assassin Order, and in the end his own quiet life in the Toscana with his family took priority over the search for a shadowy figure that may not have ever existed.

Until now.

Louise had said that that specific prayer was one of the oldest ones to exist in their country's religion, apparently written by their famed prophet Brimir himself many centuries ago. And the prayer itself seemed to be quite important by itself, if it was the first one any acolyte of Brimir learned. Did that mean that there were Templars in Halkeginia, so far away from his home? But how?

Ezio forced himself to stop thinking, taking a deep, measured breath. Whatever had happened such a long time ago, he wouldn't learn anything about it by needlessly speculating and losing sleep. Tomorrow, once this frivolous Familiar's Fair was over, he'd return to the library and start combing over the older texts. Perhaps the senile old monk would be able to help him find some tomes on the history of this world's religion...

Course of action decided, Ezio stretched himself out on his mattress and yawned. He'd need his rest for tomorrow; if that Familiar's Fair was as important as Louise claimed it to be, at least. And besides, just sleeping after that exhausting week would be fine too.

Soon enough, Ezio found his mind slowing down and his eyes drifting closed, lulled by the tranquillity of the Academy at night – until his abnormally sharp hearing picked up quiet footsteps at the end of this floor's corridor.

He frowned. The students were all asleep, and the servants wouldn't get up for a few hours yet. His hand drifted close to the dagger lying in easy reach next to his mattress.

He heard the footsteps quietly move along the corridor, approaching slowly before they suddenly stopped right outside Louise's door. Ezio's fingers clasped tightly around the dagger's hilt as he held his breath.

The door to Louise's dormitory opened with a slight creak of old hinges, a cloaked figure slipping inside before taking great care to silently close it. Ezio immediately recognized him – or her, for that matter, though he couldn't really tell thanks to the riding cloak's bulk – as one of the mysterious riders that he had seen entering the courtyard not too long ago. Unlike the others, though, he couldn't see this one carrying any visible weapons.

Which meant absolutely nothing, of course. A dagger could be hidden in a sleeve, or a string of silk meant to choke unfortunate victims was easily wrapped around a killer's wrist. Not to mention that poison only needed the small prick of a needle to kill. And he shuddered to imagine what kind of devious tricks those mages had come up with during their little feuds...

Life as as Assassin, he thought absent-mindedly, truly did give you an unhealthy sense of paranoia.

The figure snuck on tiptoes across the room towards Louise's bed, gently drawing back one of th four-poster bed's curtains. Louise lay in her bed, serenely asleep, and the figure hesitated for just a moment.

It took Ezio only that small moment of hesitation to slam his palm over the figure's mouth, holding the dagger to its throat in a silent warning. "Silenzio, per favore," he hissed menacingly into its ear, "or I will have some trouble explaining the bloodstains to my mistress tomorrow morning."

The figure had struggled, but as soon as he spoke, he or she stopped, frozen in fear. Sometimes, Ezio noted with dark amusement, he relished the effect he had on people.

"Now," he spoke quietly into the figure's ear, "I will move backwards towards the door. We are going to go outside, and then we are going to have a little... talk. If my mistress wakes up, I will kill you. Nod once if you understand."

The figure nodded, beginning to shake silently in his grip. Whoever he or she was, Ezio admired their control – there was genuine fear there, yes, but it didn't seem to take away their ability to think rationally. Surprising, really. A rare talent.

Ezio quietly began to move backwards, his captive taking the same small steps as him, until his back bumped into the door. With an elbow on the handle, he opened the heavy door and stepped outside.

"Close the door," he ordered the shivering figure. "Discretamente, per favore."

As soon as the figure had done so, he slammed him or her into the opposite wall, setting the dagger's point as the figure's throat and stepping close, cutting off all possible avenues of escape. At least Louise wouldn't have to see this.

"Now," Ezio said amiably, though his eyes were cold, "I have a few questions I want to ask you."

"...who are you?" the hooded figure asked, sounding panicked. "What were you doing in Louise's room?"

Ezio's eyes narrowed. A woman, and a rather young one too, by the sound of her voice. Not that this warranted any less caution. Many women he'd known in his life – including those he had personally trained – had been skilled killers even before they reached adulthood.

"I think you'll find, signorina," he said glacially, "that those are questions I should be asking, not you. Now, answer me: who paid you to kill Louise?"

"What? I didn't want to k–"

Ezio glared right into the darkness of the woman's hood. "Smettila di fare la commedia!" he snarled, driving his forearm into her throat and slowly choking her. "Louise is the third daughter of the Duc de la Vallière, one of Tristain's most influential generals and landowners! Scores of his enemies, noble, common, foreign, local, would kill to get at him! Now answer me! Who paid you? And if you didn't come here to kill Louise, did you come to threaten or kidnap her? Speak already!"

"None of that," the figure choked out, weakly grappling at his arm. "No one paid me... I would never hurt Louise... I am her friend..."

Now Ezio was even more suspicious. In the few weeks he had spent in the young girl's company, it was painfully easy to see that she was utterly alone. The other students shunned her for her volatile magic and angry outbursts, and she had become cold and withdrawn as a result. There were no letters for her, nothing to indicate that anyone had ever tried to contact, that anyone had ever even cared about his fiery little mistress.

So who was this woman, claiming to be a pariah's friend?

"How, exactly, are you Louise's friend?" he asked suspiciously.

"We met... as children..." the woman gasped out, her breath becoming short and wheezing. "Je vous-en prie, lâchez-moi..."

Recognizing that she was close to fainting, Ezio stepped back and let the woman slide down the wall to the floor. She was hacking and coughing, taking in deep, greedy lungfuls of air in a desperate attempt not to black out.

Ezio had no sympathy, however. He squatted down before her, dagger in hand. "Take off your hood," he ordered sternly. As the woman looked up, apparently not understanding, he impatiently tapped the dagger's blade against his palm. "Presto, per favore."

With shaking hands, the woman reached up and carefully drew her hood back, revealing quite possibly one of the most beautiful women Ezio had ever seen. Shoulder-length chestnut brown hair framed a fair-skinned and pretty face, gentle mouth, and eyes of a strange blue shade that Ezio had never quite seen before.

She only looked at him for a moment before her eyes snapped to the stone floor, afraid. Even as she sat there, helpless, powerless, and frightened, she had a presence that was hard to ignore.

"What is your name?" Ezio asked quietly, stowing his dagger in his belt. A quick look had told him that she really was unarmed, and she looked as if she wouldn't hurt a fly.

"Henrietta," the young woman said meekly. "Henrietta de Tristain."

"Henrietta de Tristain," Ezio repeated, scratching a stubbled cheek thoughtfully. "Now where have I heard... that name... before..."

His words drifted off as he stared at his captive with steadily rising horror. Henrietta de Tristain.

De Tristain.

Ezio slapped a palm to his forehead, groaning as he drew it down his face. Of all the people he had to manhandle, interrogate, and nearly choke into unconsciousness by pure accident in the middle of the night, he absolutely had to come across the sole heir to the country's throne, not to mention one of the most powerful mages in the entire realm. If Ezio could have cursed any gods he believed in, he would have certainly done so now.

"Oh, maledizione... Louise is going to murder me..."

Henrietta looked up at him, blinking uncertainly. "...I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, nothing," Ezio said charmingly, standing up and sighing. "Only talking to myself and contemplating my fate. I do that on occasion." He gave the princess a deep, elegant bow with as many courtly twirls as he could manage, smiling. "Allow me to introduce myself. Ezio Auditore da Firenze, manservant and guardia del corpo to Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Vallière, al suo servizio."

"Henrietta de Tristain," the young woman said, smiling uncertainly at the sudden about-turn in behaviour as she accepted Ezio's offered hand, the Assassin easily hauling the light woman to her feet. "Princess to the kingdom of Tristain, sole heir to the throne, and current regent due to my mother's illness." She gingerly touched her throat, wincing. "And one of Louise's oldest and dearest friends."

"Does that hurt?" Ezio asked worriedly, gently reaching out with a few outstretched fingers. "Perhaps I can—"

He stopped when he saw that Henrietta had drawn away, pressing her back into the wall with panicked eyes when he came closer. He stepped back and raised his hands in apology.

"I am truly, truly sorry, vostra altezza," he said softly, showing her that his palms were empty in an effort to calm her. "I thought you were someone hired by Louise's father's many enemies to hurt him through her, and I reacted accordingly. Had I known who you were, I assure you that I would have never treated you in the same manner."

"...that's quite alright," Henrietta said quietly, her breathing easing as she gave him a faint smile. "I just never thought that there would be someone guarding Louise's sleep."

"Are you really alright?" Ezio asked, concern in his voice. "I wasn't exactly gentle."

Henrietta lightly touched her throat, the tips of her fingers coming away red. "It's nothing," she said hastily as she saw Ezio's expression. "Just a small cut. Nothing that a small healing spell can't cure." She smiled at him, obviously trying to put him at ease.

"Still, had I known–"

"Oh, stop it," Henrietta interrupted him, gathering up the courage to step closer to this strange foreigner that had attacked her and now looked genuinely repentant, putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling crookedly at him. "Really, it serves me right for trying to visit an old friend by sneaking unannounced into her room at night like a common thief or cutthroat. It's not your fault, but mine."

Ezio relaxed, smiling back. The princess had a way about her that put you at ease, it seemed. "Louise is an old friend, you say?"

"Oh yes, we used to play as children when her family visited the Royal Court." Henrietta's face fell. "Didn't Louise know that I would come to the Familiar's Fair to visit her?"

Ezio hesitated. "I'm not really in my mistress's confidence, vostra altezza," he said carefully, "but she never mentioned you."

"Oh." Henrietta looked away and gingerly rubbed her throat, seeming as if she was trying very hard not to look hurt. She finally turned back to him, clasping her hands together in supplication and looking up at him. "So, Monsieur Auditore, could I please go see Louise now?"

Again, Ezio hesitated, trying to phrase his answer is the most respectful way possible. Nobility – both the magical and non-magical kind – could be very dangerous if offended, and even though the princess looked and sounded like a reasonable person, being careful was just common sense.

"I cannot deny you entry, vostra altezza," he said cautiously, "but I do not think it would be best for Louise. She has had a very trying day, and she was also very anxious about tomorrow's competition. She only went to sleep a short while ago as well."

"...I see," Henrietta said slowly.

Ezio sighed. "If you really want to see her, I can wake her–"

"No, no, that's quite alright," Henrietta said quickly, holding out her hand to stop him in his tracks and smiling wistfully. "I really have no right to barge in on her like this. First I find no time to write to her for her in years, then I try to sneak into her room, and then I endanger her chances for a very important and prestigious examination, all because of my own selfish desire to see her. I have been a rather bad friend, wouldn't you say?"

"And I would say that there is nothing shameful about wanting to see those you care about," Ezio answered, peering at her intently.

"No, I guess not." She studied him for a while. "You really care about Louise, don't you?"

Ezio started, surprised. "And why would you say that, prego?"

"Well, I may not look it right now, but I am the princess of an entire kingdom," Henrietta quipped drily, giving him an amused smile. "Normally, any one of my subjects would trip over their own feet to fulfil one of my requests, no matter their station. If only because they expect to be rewarded." She paused for a moment, studying him once more and making him quite uncomfortable. "But you – you are different, aren't you? You had Louise's interest in mind before mine, or before your own, for that matter." Her mouth quirked into a genuine smile. "You were prepared to defy a princess for your mistress – your loyalty is to be admired."

Ezio chuckled. "You give me too much credit. Perhaps I simply wanted to get back to bed with the least fuss."

Henrietta giggled. "Perhaps," the princess agreed, smiling mischievously. Her face suddenly fell as if she remembered something important. "Oh dear, Agnès is going to be angry that I snuck away without telling her again..."

"This Agnès – is she a chambermaid?" Ezio asked curiously.

Henrietta started giggling rampantly, muffling her laughs with her cloak's sleeve. "Oh, that would be a sight to see! No, Agnès is the one leading my Musketeers – the soldiers guarding the royal family," she added quickly when she saw Ezio's confused frown. "Oh, she is going to be furious that I left her behind again, I'm sure of it..."

"And she would be quite right," Ezio said, tapping the pommel of the dagger stuck through his belt and giving the princess a significant look. "Had you been protected, then I would never have been able to put you in danger, vostra altezza."

Henrietta grimaced. "Let's not talk about that anymore," she muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life."

"Again, my apologies–"

"I distinctly remember telling you to stop doing that," she ordered sternly, though she was smiling. "I told you that I was to blame, didn't I? You have done nothing wrong."

Ezio smiled, relieved. "Admittedly, it's not every day that you hold a genuine princess at knifepoint," he joked. Though I have done it before, once or twice, he neglected to add.

She laughed quietly. "An unusual experience for both of us, I'm sure." She smiled up at him. "Will I see you tomorrow, Monsieur Auditore?"

"If Louise participates tomorrow, certainly."

"I'm glad that Louise has you to take care of her," Henrietta said suddenly. "If her familiar is only half as dedicated as you, I'm sure that she will have no trouble winning tomorrow's competition."

Ezio gave her a deep courtly bow, partly out of genuine respect and partly so that she couldn't see him laughing. "You honour me with your words. Thank you." He straightened up, smiling charmingly. "Buona notte, altezza."

Henrietta gave him a small, elegant curtsey and smiled. "Bonne nuit, Monsieur Auditore. May the Founder and His Saints guide you."

"The same to you, vostra altezza."

And with a last exchange of smiles, Henrietta quietly walked down the corridor until she disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness of the Academy's hallways. Ezio watched her leave, then silently slipped back into Louise's dormitory, made sure that his charge was still fast sleep – Louise managed to sleep through all that commotion, thank goodness – and finally stretched himself out on his lumpy straw mattress.

It was only as he lied in the calm and quiet darkness of Louise's room that he fully realized that he had been only one slip of a dagger away from killing the last remaining royal heir, decapitating an entire royal dynasty and possibly plunging an entire nation into the chaos of civil war. And all that by pure accident.

Needless to say that it took quite a while until Ezio Auditore da Firenze finally fell into a fitful slumber.

...

There were few occasions in her life that Louise could recall feeling so nervous that she wanted to be sick. One of these had been her first day at the Royal Court, all eyes on her as the youngest daughter of the Vallière family was introduced to the King and Queen. Another had been the first of many fruitless attempts to use magic under her mother's disappointed eye. And the most recent one, of course, had been only three weeks ago, before having to perform the Spring Summoning Ritual.

And now, that familiar feeling of impotent panic and fear had returned so strongly that Louise thought she tasted bile on her tongue. She wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner in the Academy somewhere and vomit, all in the faint hope that it would make her feel better.

However, standing amongst the chattering crowd of students, commoners, and visiting nobles mingling in the Vestri Court, it was obvious that finding a quiet place would be impossible. It was a longstanding tradition for the Royal dauphin or dauphine to attend the demonstrations of newly minted familiars, and the commoners living in the city and nearby villages surrounding the Academy, never ones to waste an opportunity to brighten up their dreary and rather boring lives, had turned the once overly formal ceremony into a full-blown festival that attracted nobles and commoners from all over Tristain, renowned in the whole country as the Familiar's Fair.

Food would be carted in from nearby farms by the wagonload, garlands hung from gable to gable to criss-cross in cheerful patterns over the city streets, pots of coloured flowers put on windowsills; merchants would set up stands where mugs of beer and flavoured pastries would be sold to the adults and sweets to the children, and commoners and nobles alike would go out, dressed in their best finery, to chat, laugh, and joke in the company of their friends and family. It was a time when commoners and mages could mingle to enjoy life together, social class all but forgotten – even though the latter would then invariably deny it.

Even Louise, who usually despised gatherings of all kinds with a passion, had occasionally found the time to enjoy herself during previous festivals. After all, it was easier to celebrate when strangers filled the Academy's streets, when no one cared whether she was born noble or common. Whether she was a Zero or not.

But today, Louise watched gloomily as a group of local carpenters worked frantically to raise a stage at one end of the Vestri Court, working quickly to hammer together a solid structure that would support today's demonstrations. Madame Chèvreuse strengthened the edifice with a few waves of her wand and a longwinded incantation, much to the watching crowd's interest, and then happily proclaimed it stable enough to support a landing dragon. Like every student with a newly summoned creature, Louise would have to go up there and present her bonded familiar to a panel of judges that included most of her teachers and Henrietta – no, not simply Henrietta, the Princess of Tristain, the Dauphine herself – and hoping that she wouldn't make a complete and utter fool of herself in front of this audience of hundreds, perhaps thousands of students, commoners, and nobles.

Oh, Founder, she was really going to be sick.

"Nervous, Vallière?" a mordant voice called out to her, loud and mocking.

Louise whirled around to see Kirche walk through the crowd towards her, her salamander familiar Flame easily making a way for its mistress through the throngs of people. Admiring looks from the men and envious ones from the women followed her – Kirche was beautiful, exotic, and powerful, her magical familiar as incontrovertible proof, and walked with an easy grace that drew the eye of all she passed, especially considering that she had prettied herself up even more than usual.

The dark-skinned Germanian was everything a noble could want to be – beautiful, charismatic, powerful, and carrying herself with a bearing that would have turned heads at any Royal Court, from the Amber Chamber of the Germanian Emperor to the Hall of Mirrors of the Gallian King.

And she cheerfully flaunted it, right in Louise's face.

Louise's fists clenched at her sides, but she did her best to give her hated rival a blithe smile. "Nervous? Terribly sorry, Zerbst, you must have me confused me with someone else."

"Interesting," Kirche drawled as she drew closer, grinning at her. "Because I could have sworn that you looked rather green around the gills just a moment ago."

"You would have sworn wrong," Louise answered curtly. "I am a Vallière."

"Ah, yes; that famous 'Rule of Steel' of your family," Kirche chirped merrily. "I've always found that those without fear are either suicidal or fools. I wouldn't have believed you to be either, to be honest, but I suppose everything is possible. Now," Kirche said, throwing a look around with a raised eyebrow, "where, exactly, is that incredibly good-looking familiar of yours? I've been trying to corner him for weeks, and yet he always seems to evade me."

"He shows more common sense than most boys around here, then."

"Oh, rubbish. Why would he run away from me? It's not as if I want to hurt him." Kirche threw her an amused grin. "Quite the opposite, in fact." Her expression suddenly grew thunderous. "You're not hiding that prime example of manliness from the rest of us women, are you?" she said, pointing accusingly with a finger. "How selfish of you, Vallière!"

"I would assume," Louise snarled at her, barely containing her anger, "that he is preparing himself for the examination, like all conscientious masters and familiars should!"

In fact, Louise had no idea where Ezio was. Unusually, she had been the one to wake up first this morning, shaking her summons awake. The Italian had grumbled unhappily and complained that he hadn't slept well before simply disappearing to somewhere and leaving her alone without saying another word. Perhaps the seriousness of the Familiar's Fair and his mistress's situation had finally gotten through to him, though Louise couldn't be entirely sure.

Kirche raised an eyebrow. "How utterly boring of him. I wonder what he will think of, though. Admittedly," and here the Germanian took an exaggerated look at the crowd and hubbub surrounding them, "if you were looking for a bigger venue to embarrass yourself and your family, I doubt you could have chosen a better occasion. Her Highness herself is coming, no? Heirs and new regents always like to show off, so there'll be quite a few visitors from the Royal Court, I imagine. Why, perhaps the Queen herself will be here!"

"If you spent more time outside of a different boy's bed every week, you'd know that the Queen won't be here," Louise snapped angrily, gritting her teeth. "She's ill."

Kirche blinked, looking down at Louise with surprise. "Really? What happened to her?"

Louise goggled at the flirty Germanian in disbelief. "Are you actually trying to be funny, or are you really that ignorant?" she demanded incredulously. "The king died two moths ago! It's no wonder that Her Majesty is feeling unwell!"

"But that's – so – romantic!" Kirche squealed, clapping her hands together in delight. "That a woman would be so devoted to her husband that his death takes away her desire to live, making her slowly waste away until she can be together with her beloved one, united in death! Why, that is the pinnacle of romance!"

"I see nothing romantic in a slow, agonizing death by illness," Louise muttered.

"Oh hush, you," Kirche retorted, annoyed at getting ripped out of her fantasy. "You were always as emotional as a doorstop. You wouldn't know romantic if it mugged you in broad daylight."

"That's rich, coming from someone who has slept herself through half the boys' dormitories in her time here!" Louise snapped, outraged.

Kirche grinned and sidled closer, making a rather suggestive hand movement. "Well, courtly love is all well and good, but the... other parts can be fun too. And besides, don't you know the saying? If it doesn't work the first time, get experience!"

"If I want to hear about your bedroom escapades, Zerbst, I'll ask for it," Louise retorted, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, some of us have better things to do."

"Boooring," Kirche sing-songed cheerfully. "Goodness gracious, at this rate we'll never find a husband for you! Well, if we're already talking about love and familiars – and preferably about combining the two into something recreational, healthy, and wholesome – let me ask you a question." Kirche leant closer, a rather mischievous look in her eyes. "Have you jumped that familiar of yours yet?"

"W-WHAT?"

"You. Him. The beast with two backs," Kirche listed succinctly, now grinning from ear to ear. "Have you done it?"

Louise got her scrambled thoughts back in order, her face redder than it had ever been before. "How dare you even suggest such a thing!" she shrieked furiously, wanting to do nothing more than to draw her wand and make that infuriating Germanian's head explode. "He's my familiar, for Founder's sake! It would be improper beyond belief!"

"So you didn't?" Kirche frowned, sighing and shaking her head, not caring in the least about the quizzical looks their argument was drawing from the people around them. "Disappointing, Vallière, truly disappointing. You had such a fine specimen at your beck and call for over three weeks, and yet you did absolutely nothing? Why, he's absolutely wasted on someone like you."

Eyebrows twitching rampantly, Louise forced herself not to scream her frustrations to the heavens – it wouldn't help, no matter how much she wanted to do it. "Some of us have other interests besides bedding the nearest man available," she gritted out through clenched teeth, glaring.

"And I will tell you again and again that you are boring, Vallière," her rival said, smiling flippantly. "Where's your adventurous side? Oh, after I saw him fight Guiche," and here Kirche got a rather dreamy look in her eyes, "I don't think I could have waited another hour! I wonder if he is as dominant in bed as he is on the battlefield..."

"And I think that you have said quite enough for today," Louise said glacially, having finally had enough.

Kirche pouted at her. "Spoilsport. Do you always have to ruin my fun?" Her expression suddenly turned thoughtful. "In all seriousness, though, I do wonder what he will be presenting for the competition. I mean, he is a commoner, isn't he? What can a simple man do that could impress Her Highness?"

Again, that nervous knot in her stomach made itself known, but Louise ruthlessly squashed it. She wouldn't show weakness in front of her. "I'm sure he'll think of something," she said curtly.

"Oh, so it'll be a surprise for both of us then?" Kirche smiled at her, a gleam in her eye. "Interesting, how very interesting. Well," the dark-skinned Germanian said jovially, "you look far better than just a few moments ago! We should talk more often; it seems to do wonders for your teint."

Before she could lash out with an angry retort, Louise realized that her fear, that crippling nervous that had gripped her only a few minutes ago, was now reduced to nothing more than a few flickers of unease. Still present, but repressed under anger and frustration.

...had Kirche actually planned for that to happen?

Louise threw the Germanian beside her a suspicious look, but the redhead had turned to look towards the other end of the Vestri Court where the double doors to the Academy's main building stood. "I think Her Highness is coming," she stage-whispered to her shorter rival, grinning.

Indeed, a group of four men had stepped through the open doors, all uniformed in the royal red livrée and each of them holding a long fanfare in their hands. A moment later, the clear sound of the brass instruments rang out across the courtyard, silencing all conversation and capturing everyone's attention. All turned towards them, hushing and waiting expectantly.

As the heralds stepped aside, a troop of finely uniformed soldiers marched through the gates in picture-perfect drill step, four men abreast and five men deep, hefting long muskets with bayonets fixed, pistols in their bandoliers and heavy arming swords at their sides, serious expressions on their faces. At their head marched a woman, burn scars on the side of her face and her hand on the grip of her longsword, glaring at anyone that stood in her way. Wisely, the crowd parted before her as the soldiers marched towards the stage – no one, commoner or noble alike, was stupid enough to defy Agnès, Chevalier de Rouvroy, the feared captain of Her Majesty's Royal Musketeers.

When the guards had cleared a way through the crowd from the double doors to the stage – glaring Musketeers standing a few paces apart on both sides alongside it to enforce it, by bayonet if necessary – a figure strode out into the open, the shadows cast by the Academy's entrance obscuring its features for just a moment. But when she stepped into the sunlight, Louise recognized her instantly.

The first thought that went through Louise's mind when she saw her oldest friend for the first time in years was not quite what she expected. She hasn't changed at all.

But as the princess stepped out into the courtyard, smiling graciously as her subjects erupted into cheers around her, Louise could see that her friend certainly had changed these last few years: had she once been a small, if pretty child, she had now grown into a tall, stunningly beautiful woman, the grace that befitted her station in every single one of her movements. The tiara on her brow was completely unnecessary – it was obvious who she was by bearing alone.

But still, in some ways Louise realized that her first thought had some truth to it: her smile, that gentle smile that had enchanted the mothers and daughters of the Royal Court when she was a child, those same blue eyes that her father had absolutely adored, and that strange magnetism that had compelled nobles and knights to swear themselves to her after meeting her only once or seeing her from afar.

And so Louise cheered and laughed with abandon along with everyone else. She hadn't changed. She was still Henrietta, her friend that she had known so many years ago.

Thank goodness.

When Henrietta finally stepped up onto the stage, smiling and waving merrily all the while, she gracefully walked up to the jurors' table to greet the assembled faculty members. Old Osmond beamed as if his birthday had come early as he shook the princess's hand, Colbert gave her a polite smile as he exchanged a few pleasantries with her, Sister Catherine and Henrietta seemed to hit it off immediately when they were introduced to one another, and the Alchemy lecturer, Professor Rogue, actually seemed to sneer less than usual when Henrietta spoke to him, a miracle all by itself.

Before Henrietta took her seat at the very centre of the jurors' table, she surveyed the cheering crowd with a smile and drew her wand out of her sleeve, waving it once. "Thank you very much," she called out, her voice amplified to ring out clearly across the filled courtyard, silencing the happy cheers and cries of "Vive son altesse!" "Vive le royaume!" "Vive Tristain!" Silent air manipulation, Louise realized with amazement and quite a bit of awe. She's gotten better.

"Thank you all for being here!" Henrietta called out happily, before giving them all a rather mischievous smile. "I know it's an established tradition for my family to make a long-winded speech before the beginning of the demonstrations, but that's not what you're really here for, is it? That said," and she raised her wand, a loud crack echoing around the Vestri Court. "May this year's Familiar's Fair begin!"

Even if Henrietta had wanted to speak for longer after this, she would probably have been unable to as the crowd exploded once more into cheers, even louder and more enthusiastic than before. Louise clapped along with everyone else, smiling rampantly and feeling happier than she had in a long while.

"My, my," an amused voice spoke into her ear. "She's quite popular, isn't she?"

Louise whirled around to see Kirche stand close behind her, surveying the cheering students, commoners and nobles with a rather amused look on her face.

"Isn't it obvious?" the young Tristainian snapped challengingly.

Kirche laughed and tweaked her nose, making the smaller girl squawk in outrage. "Careful, Mademoiselle de la Vallière. Appearances can deceive." Kirche drew herself up, stretching languorously and grinning at her familiar. "A tough crowd to play to, nicht wahr, Flame? Should be fun." The Germanian winked at her fuming rival. "May the best familiar win, alright?"

Louise glared at her, holding her nose and glaring indignantly. "He will!"

Kirche smiled approvingly. "Good answer." She suddenly bowed down until her mouth was right next to Louise's ear, whispering so that no one else could hear. "When you're up there in front of everyone, don't look at the crowd and don't look at the judges. Look at Her Highness. No one else matters."

Before Louise could open her mouth to ask what on earth Kirche was talking about, the Germanian had disappeared into the crowd with her familiar in tow, vanishing like a ghost. And then Louise had other things on her mind as the first student was called upon the stage.

...

There were dozens of students with their newly summoned familiars, all of them quite nervous about presenting themselves before their future monarch and such a huge crowd of their peers – and even though the audience were 'mere' commoners, the reputation of their families was at stake as well. So it was unsurprising that many of the students were sweating bullets, their knees buckling, hands shaking, and their familiars skittish thanks to their master's nervousness and the noise made by the large crowd.

The demonstrations of those unfortunate enough usually broke down halfway through, and while they still received polite applause from both jurors and audience, it was clear who the losers were as they slunk off the stage under the sympathetic eye of Henrietta, shamefaced and embarrassed. Other demonstrations, while well-rehearsed and potentially interesting, were nothing more than average and served nothing more than to show the gulf between mediocrity and those students with the most memorable familiars.

Kirche strode confidently onto the stage, accompanied by Flame, her salamander familiar then beginning to spout huge gouts of fire into the sky, the licking flames taking the shape of criss-crossing lines, stars, runes, and letters.

Bosco and Malicorne rumbled portentously on stage, the huge bear dancing a jig before performing a row of clownish sketches with his master that left the children in the crowd (both young and old) laughing uproariously and applauding as the bear imitated his master's clumsy bow of gratitude.

Quiet Reynald walked on stage, the picture of quiet dignity, before loudly calling out for "Romulus!" and waiting until a wolf's howl sounded out across the courtyard, unnerving the visiting peasants until the feral sound became a beautiful song that the crowd listened to in quiet admiration. They granted the white-furred beast respectful passage as it made its way through the people to its master.

Gimli, boisterous as ever, marched on stage to loudly extol his familiar's great beauty and many virtues – at least until a cheeky heckler ("Get on with it!") compelled him to raise his arm, clad in a thick leather glove, and summon his hawk Aesalon with a sharp whistle. The large raptor appeared over the Academy, dived steeply and settled down onto his master's arm with outstretched wings – much to the crowd's approval, as falconers were rare and respected by commoners and nobles alike.

Tabitha stunned everyone by appearing high above in the sky on Sylphid's back and performing a series of death-defying aerial stunts, all before landing onto the stage amidst the cheering crowd, most of whom had never seen a dragon this magnificent before. Tabitha simply jumped off and bowed to Henrietta before burying her nose in another book.

Louise watched all these demonstrations, her nervousness increasing with each and every single once as she frantically tried to imagine how Ezio could possibly come up with to compete with these magical beasts, and drawing blanks.

"Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière!"

And again, just like three weeks ago, she walked out into the open, that familiar fear and nervousness taking a ahold of her, the whispers of the crowd in her ear as her family's name caught everyone's attention and interest. She glanced nervously over her shoulder, not daring to look at her old friend sitting right there in front of her at the jurors' table, a friend who had probably already forgotten her. Oh, she was going to humiliate herself again, wasn't she? Sullying her family's good name and reputation another time, the useless youngest daughter of the prestigious family—

Louise spotted Kirche standing in the first row of the multitude, right next to the stage, shaking her head and silently mouthing something to her, and for a moment, Louise heard her rival's voice again.

She immediately calmed down. So what if she made a fool of herself? She had a familiar. No one could deny that, could deny her station, her right to be a noble. People would forget a little embarrassment with a little time. And she had Ezio, and he would still be there for her after the demonstration whether she made a fool of herself or not. The only thing that wouldn't come again was the chance was the chance to find out if Henrietta – her friend – still remembered her.

That's right. None of that really matters, does it? Only Her Highness does.

"Hail, Your Highness," she greeted loudly as she bowed towards the jurors' table, holding it, not daring to look up and hoping against all hope that her voice didn't waver. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

For a moment, no one said anything, and Louise could almost feel those blue eyes studying her intently. "Louise Françoise," the princess spoke quietly. "It's been far too long, hasn't it?"

Louise's head snapped up to see Henrietta smile happily at her, none of the accusation, none of the anger, none of the disappointment she had expected to be seen anywhere.

Louise nodded, confused. Wasn't her friend furious with her? She hadn't been able to write for years; Mother had forbidden it… "It has been, yes," she agreed cautiously.

Henrietta blinked quickly, still smiling happily, until she quickly wiped her eyes with her dress's sleeve, smiling. "I have so much to tell you! I couldn't write to you, Father forbade it, but I regretted it every time I thought of you, and–"

"While this is incredibly touching," Rogue interrupted snidely, "we are not here to gossip, but rather to see the ability of Mademoiselle de la Vallière's familiar. If that creature even has any, that is," he added spitefully, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at the Vallière girl.

The tiny mage glared back furiously, using the look she trained on Ezio during their sparring sessions when he was cheerfully taunting her. Louise noted with quiet satisfaction that the greasy-haired man actually flinched, quickly looking away.

"You're right, Professor," Henrietta agreed quickly, though her smile looked slightly strained when she addressed him. "Duty always comes first, doesn't it? One could assume that I would know that by now." She smiled apologetically at Louise. "I'm sorry about this," she said quietly. "We'll just have to catch up later, won't we?"

And smiling giddily, feeling happier than she had in years, Louise nodded and bowed gratefully. "Of course, Your Highness!"

Throwing a small, thankful nod to a cheerfully smiling Old Osmond, whose privacy spell had kept the crowd from overhearing their conversation, Louise quickly turned to face the assembled mass of commoners and students. The impatient fidgeting, curious looks, and expectant expressions didn't bother her anymore. And why should they? Her princess, her friend hadn't forgotten her!

"My familiar," she said loudly, her voice carrying steadily over the crowd, "is rather unusual, even compared to all these fantastic beasts we have seen so far. He's... human, for lack of a better word, but quite interesting nonetheless! Ezio!" she raised her voice even further, hoping he was somewhere, listening. "Would you please come out?"

For a moment, there was total silence as absolutely nothing happened.

"Ezio?" Louise repeated uncertainly, louder this time. No smarmily grinning familiar appeared. The onlookers started to look disgruntled and annoyed, muttering amongst themselves and throwing the tiny mage disappointed looks.

This time, however, Louise ignored them all as a very familiar rage took hold within her, one that she hadn't really released in years, building up until she finally and spectacularly blew her top. "Ezio Auditore da Firenze!" she roared, and she thought she heard a small gasp of surprise behind her, but ignored it as she shouted as loudly as she could, red-faced and angry. "If you don't come out RIGHT THIS INSTANT, I swear I will–"

And then her voice was drowned out by the sound of a thunderous explosion that made her and all the other onlookers jump in fright and then hunker down as the cannonade continued relentlessly, the visitors cowering and covering their ears with grimaces on their faces as the rumbling thunder assaulted their ears. It was as if a royal artillery company had decided to greet the visiting heir with a surprise salute, except that there were no cannons to be seen anywhere.

Because everyone was wincing, hands clapped to their ears, no one noticed the soft sounds of small clay containers impacting amongst the crowd until their broken shells released a thick white smoke that quickly enveloped the whole courtyard. Louise, blind as everyone else, could nevertheless hear the panicked questions and mutterings of the commoners and students, and she wondered what in Founder's name Ezio thought he was playing at—

There was a shrill whistle coming from high above them in the sky, still visible through the wafting fog, followed by a small moment of silence.

And then a red flower bloomed above them, followed by a musket-like sound and crackling sparks falling to the earth. Soon, other whistles and explosions followed, snakes of coloured flames corkscrewing into the clear blue sky only to explode into magnificent stars, rows of choreographed comets trailing billowing white smoke, scores of little firecrackers shooting up into the clouds only to make a multicoloured rain of sparks drift down to earth.

Fireworks, Louise realized with awe as she watched the display, mesmerized. He made fireworks!

Fireworks were a luxury that only the richest nobles of Halkeginia could afford, and even then displays were few and far between, limited to grand occasions like a royal marriage or the baptism of the dauphin. Producing rockets, firecrackers, and other assorted pyrotechnics was expensive, time-consuming, required skill, and above all dangerous, as the crippled fingers of many an aspiring alchemist showed. Most peasants and commoners would never have occasion to witness such an event, and it would have been rare even for the nobles to see one.

So the cheers, laughs, happiness and general amazement of the watching crowd was understandable as children sitting on their fathers' shoulders gleefully tried to grab falling sparks out of the sky, whistles, applause and gasps following each new explosion and change of colour – blue, red, green, yellow, purple, gold, turquoise, white – and delighted laughs and cheers accompanied each new missile streaking into the sky.

After a few minutes, though, the last rocket exploded, the largest fiery flower (blue this time) and loudest boom yet ending the spectacle. Cheers and thunderous applause followed, but Louise's eyes were frantically searching the surrounding rooftops, looking for a familiar silhouette—

There. Up on the highest roof of the Academy's main nave, balancing right at the very edge of its highest gable was a figure cloaked all in white, a large hood concealing their face. Yet Louise could have sworn that he was smirking right at her when she clapped eyes on him.

Louise smiled back. Oh, how could she have ever called him common?

…

Ezio gave a small smirk as he surveyed from high above the cheering masses his little display had caused. While Yusuf had showed him how to make incredibly lethal and otherwise useful tools for his work as an Assassin, the Master Assassin from Konstantiniyye had delighted in showing him more peaceful applications of smoke and gunpowder – coloured flames, rockets, delayed timers… Sofía, Marcello, Flavia, and his neighbours in the Toscana had loved the displays he put up for the New Year's celebrations and various birthdays and other festivities. Putting together a small batch of firecrackers had taken nothing more than a few words to a few of Marteau's friends for the ingredients, a borrowed alchemy table, and a few hours of work. Simple, and quite nostalgic, really.

"Honestly, sayun Auditore!" he remembered Yusuf chuckling. "Who is the one teaching whom, exactly?"

Ezio had laughed at his friend's exuberant joke, but the katara-wielding Assassin had been far wiser than he would ever know. Even as a teacher, you never stopped learning.

Carefully balancing on his feet to cancel out the wind, the rejuvenated Florentine fixed a sharp eye on the stage in the courtyard below and saw Louise hold out a ahnd to him, smiling quite possibly the brightest smile he'd ever seen on her. She could actually see him up here? She had far better eyes than he thought.

He read her lips easily as she whispered. Give them a show.

Ezio smirked. She needn't have asked. Assassin or not, shadows of night or light of day, he only truly lived for moments like these, that single moment when you pulled the wool over someone's eyes, tricked them with a spectacle, and then pounced on them like a diving eagle on a fleeing mouse. Oh, it was simply exhilarating.

It may have been his old pride whispering to him, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

He stood-up, his white-hooded cloak (deftly stolen from the scullery without Siesta's knowledge) fluttering in the wind behind him. He raised his arms wide as Louise shouted something down below, and he knew that every eye in the courtyard below was on him, their owners watching with bated breath. He grinned.

And then he jumped.

He didn't hear the gasps and screams of shock of surprise as he twisted slightly in mid-air, he knew that there was no cart of straw or flowers below to catch him, he needed to concentrate—

A quick tug on a string fluttering from his back pouch, the snapping sound of cloth unfurling and snapping as it filled with air, ropes creaking as they strained to hold his weight in the air—

And then he was flying, really flying over the crowd using Leonardo's parachute, basking in the stunned looks of amazement, the cheers of admiration and applause, and generally gobsmacked expressions of the nobles when they saw a commoner fly without magic.

Oh, how he loved doing this.

He circled above the courtyard for a few more moments (long enough to be nearly deafened by the cheers and applause of the crowd that filled it to near bursting, even up here in the air) before lightly tugging on the ropes and dropping towards the makeshift stage placed against one wall of the Vestri Court. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to crash feet first into the jurors' table but a few well-placed cuts of the hidden blades jettisoned the whole contraption.

Ezio landed on his feet, rolling to dampen his fall and stopping before Louise, stooped on one knee and bowing his head low as he knelt before her. "Hail, Louise de la Vallière," he said loudly and formally, at the same time struggling to keep a straight face and congratulating himself on remembering to wear a hood. Oh, these theatrics are far more amusing than they should be. "As you have called me, I have appeared."

He glanced up to see Louise smirk at him, though she looked as if she was trying very hard not to break out into an undignified ear-to-ear grin. "I think I saw your entrance," she said drily, but she gave him an honest, genuine smile as she held out her hand to him. "Thank you, Ezio."

With a small smile of his own, he took her hand and briefly kissed her knuckles – a sign of allegiance that even the lowest of commoners would be able to recognize. "Non c'è di che, Louise."

And again the crowd exploded into cheers and applause as he got to his feet, the loudest for any student yet. Louise basked in that admiration, smiling at the attention and respect she'd always craved but never gotten from her peers, looking happier than Ezio had ever seen her.

Ezio chortled quietly to himself, shifting in his predecessor's armour that he'd worn only because it would make him look more impressive. All this was nothing permanent, only smoke and mirrors that would soon fade away, but who would be cold-hearted enough to deny a lonely girl some small measure of happiness? He certainly wasn't.

There were some rumbling sounds in the distance, one after the other, and he pricked his ears, frowning. Those explosions had been soft, quiet, barely audible if one didn't have an Assassin's sharp ears, and they certainly hadn't been any of his.

There was a soft, rumbling impact that could barely be heard over the noise of the crowd, as if stone had crashed against stone. Ezio turned around, quickly scanning his surroundings and trying to block out the brouhaha of the crowd. Whatever it had been, it had definitely not been part of his plan.

Louise saw his expression and nudged him, concerned. "Ezio?" she asked quietly. "What is it?"

"Something's wrong," he muttered to her, not even looking at her as his shoulders tensed. "Something's very wrong. But where—"

There was another sound like a boulder crashing down the side of a mountainside, this time nearly drowning out the cheering masses. Ezio willed his second sight to come alive and swore loudly - the wall of the courtyard closest to the Academy building had cracks running through it, both large and small, and they hadn't been there this morning.

Before he could shout out a warning, the whole wall came crumbling down like a collapsing cliff, crushing those unfortunate enough to be squeezed against it by the crowd. Cheers turned to screams, applause turned to panic as commoners and nobles alike fought to get away.

And then something surged through the breach in the wall, engulfing the nearest Musketeers in liquid stone before they could even try to bring their weapons to bear. Ezio watched with horror as the stone was forced down their throat and noses, suffocating them as they vainly struggled, their bodies going limp a moment later.

And then those tendrils of stone flowed back towards the breached wall as a great mass of the fluid rock surged through it like a wave – which was impossible, Ezio tried to desperately convince himself – forming a single greater rolling mass that grew taller and taller until it towered over them and coalesced into something that looked like a human – two arms, two legs, a torso, a misshapen lump of rock for a head – but seemed more like a parody of a human being, a child's drawing of a monster from its nightmares. It took a lumbering step, crushing another part of the wall and sending the students and commoners screaming.

On its shoulders stood a single cloaked figure, a hood hiding her face, but Ezio's sharp eyes could nearly see the smug glee rolling off her as the abomination trudged toward the Academy's main building with earth-shaking steps, wails of terror echoing around her.

"Louise!" Ezio bellowed, grabbing her shoulders and bodily shoving her towards the jurors' table before she could argue. "Stay with the princess, intesi? Don't follow me!"

He thought he could hear her shout his name as he bodily leapt past the swearing Musketeers onto the jurors' table and used the surrounding scaffolding to vault onto the surface of the courtyard's wall behind it, quickly finding his grip in cracks and crumbling old masonry and climbing as fast as he could to the very top of the rampart.

As he reached it and clambered to his feet on the walkway, he heard an angry voice yelling at him, a scowling Musketeer holding his musket's bayonet under his nose. "Oi! You can't be up her—"

Ezio had no time for him. With a deft move, he grabbed the musket's muzzle with both hands and yanked as hard as he could. The man stumbled towards him, cursing, only to have Ezio's boot silence him as it slammed into his groin and drove the breath out of him. Before he could say another word, Ezio had taken a solid hold of the musket with both hands and viciously smashed its heavy stock into the Musketeer's jaw, leaving him sprawled insensibly across the rampart.

There was another loud crash of stone hitting stone, and Ezio managed to keep his balance as the whole wall shook. He looked at the Academy and swore – the stone monster had driven first into the building's facade, completely obliterating one of its upper floors. He saw the cloaked woman cheerfully stroll along the arm of its creation to enter the building. He wouldn't get there in time.

It was only then that Ezio realized that the back of his left hand felt as if someone had set it on fire, but he was absolutely sure that it had only felt like this since disarming that bodyguard and... holding his musket?

Before he even realized what he was doing, he had shouldered the heavy weapon and drawn back the crude hammer, squinting along its barrel to see the sauntering figure prepare to jump into the shattered building, something telling him to aim slightly left and high and pulling the trigger.

Even from the distance of a few hundred yards, he could see the splatter of blood that flew through the air as the cloaked woman fell like a ragdoll into the hole its monster had created, disappearing from sight.

Ezio frowned as he dropped the weapon. That was surprising. He'd never liked muskets – long, heavy, slow to reload, unwieldy, and decidedly cumbersome to carry when climbing – and he'd never really practiced using one. So why had he known exactly how to use it, not to mention shoot someone so far away?

The Assassin ignored it for the moment and simply waited, hoping against hope for the abomination to collapse or disappear – he was sure he'd read somewhere that spells lost their power when their caster died...

No such luck – in fact, the creature only seemed to intensify its rampaging. Ezio swore and started to run along the rampart towards where it connected to the Academy's main nave.

The traditional way it is, then, he thought grimly as he flexed his hidden blades.

...

Fouquet snarled as she stumbled along the Academy's dusty hidden corridor, blood seeping thickly through the fingers clenching her shoulders.

He shot me, she thought disbelievingly as she stopped to examine the deep hole the musket ball had punched through her shoulder. He actually managed to shoot me!

Such a feat of marksmanship was impossible. The Vestri Court was several hundred yards long, and she had seen him on the other end of it! Shooting a single moving target with nothing more than a crude battlefield musket was something that even the best snipe hunters in Albion wouldn't be able to match, not even by half the distance! And yet the Vallière girl's familiar had done it in a heartbeat!

Fouquet angrily waved her wand, and a small trickle of stone provided by her Blood Golem slithered across the dusty stone floor towards her, flowing up her leg and attaching itself to her shoulder, sealing her wound tightly. Just in time – she'd been losing blood far too quickly for her liking. Of all the places to hit her, she cursed, he absolutely had to hit the shoulder with all its major blood vessels, didn't he?

The Sculptor gingerly moved her arm, the stone flowing around her to ease the movement, and she couldn't help but grimace. It wasn't exactly the pinnacle of battlefield medicine, far from it, but it would have to serve as a stopgap until she got away and found a water mage willing to treat a renegade noble. Still, it did nothing to dull the excruciating pain that threatened to make her black out.

Oh, she was going to kill him.

Focus, she sternly told herself as she took a deep breath and continued on her way down the corridor, ignoring the near-crippling pain as best as she could. He's not important. Don't underestimate him anymore, but don't get sidetracked either. He's not what you're here for.

Soon, she found herself calming down, thinking clearly again. In a way, the familiar had actually helped her – setting off those fireworks had distracted the city's guards long enough for her to kill a fair few of them, and few people would have noticed her planting those firebombs in the city, even less when she set them off just before her grand entrance. Soon, the city would be nothing more than a flickering torch, distracting the mages and guards long enough to make her escape – if they would even bother when they had to protect their 'beloved' princess from a rampaging golem. Fouquet scoffed. The theft itself was ridiculously easy. She could have done this weeks ago if she didn't need her Blood Golem to punch through the outer wards and the princess herself to tie up her pursuers.

Take the good with the bad, she thought as she continued on in the darkness, determined and gritting her teeth. She was injured, yes, but her plan was proceeding well. She could still do this.

Soon enough she reached a large wooden door, armoured plates of metal enchanted with powerful spells devised centuries ago making a direct assault nothing more than wasted effort. Fouquet raised her lit wand, narrowing her eyes as she ran her fingers over the old wood and steel... Where was it, damn it?

Ah. There. A small plate of metal in the shape of a cross with equidistant arms, decorated with runes and a small slit in its centre. Fouquet flexed her unencumbered left arm, her father's old blade hissing out of its sheath. He had never told her what this strange weapon was for, exactly, except that it was an old heirloom. When Matilda de Saxe-Gotha had fled Albion after King Charles's betrayal, she had fiddled with it for months, wondering how it was supposed to be used. She would never have thought it to be a key, of all things, but then again, stranger things had happened in the kingdoms of Halkeginia.

With a deft twist of her wrist, she slammed the blade home, a loud series of whirring and clicking sounds announcing that the lock was opening bit by bit. A moment later, the door creaked open slowly, dust falling in small trickles from its old hinges. Fouquet summoned a small light from the tip of her wand and peered inside. Her breath hitched. The Academy's Vault was huge and cavernous, her small light doing little to brighten the darkness, instead throwing shadows onto the walls and into every corner of the room.

But that wasn't what had caught Fouquet's undivided attention, what even made her forget the intense pain in her shoulder. There was more treasure here than she could ever hope to rob in several lifetimes. Racks of bejewelled weapons of many styles and makes, their shafts humming with many barely suppressed enchantments stood side-by-side with hundreds, thousands of leather-bound books, older scrolls and rolled-up parchments, their bookshelves reaching higher than her small torch could carry. Suits of armour that hadn't rusted a single day accompanied rings and amulets whose runes and alchemical arrays were so intricate that Fouquet, no slouch herself as a triangle-class mage, couldn't even begin to understand them.

The noble-turned-thief shook her head and snapped her jaw shut. She didn't have time for this. She was here for one specific object only. As much as it offended her warped sense of morals and professional ethics to leave such beautiful loot behind, she knew that she wouldn't be able to carry it all. If she wanted to escape afterwards, at least.

So the renegade mage searched deeper inside the vault, quite often wistfully eyeing some particular treasure that she was loath to leave locked up in the darkness. She decided then and there that she would return here when the Reconquista finally liberated Tristain – it would be a crime to leave these powerful artefacts here, unused and unappreciated. When she finally found what she looked for at the very end of the vault, however, all other thoughts were driven from her mind as she simply stared.

The Staff of Destruction stood upright in a specially built stone plinth, the magical light from Fouquet's wand that was reflected of its surface casting a dim golden sheen into the vault's darkness. She eyed it gleefully. It was exactly how the old texts and her contact had described it: eight to nine feet long, a simple staff with three pairs of metal arms at one end, forming a cross. Runes were inscribed all along its shaft of Elvish make, and the power that emanated from it was nearly palpable in the air as she approached it.

The renegade gingerly touched it and immediately she felt the Staff come to live as power through both old artefact and herself. She knew instinctively that her power as a mage was now greater than it had ever been before, enhanced by this mythical object handed down by the Founder himself.

Fouquet grinned ecstatically. So much power. With this, she would finally be able to drive out the House of Tudor from Albion. After all these years, she would finally have her revenge over the ones who had mercilessly slaughtered her family, retainers, and subjects. Oh, how she had been looking forward to this moment!

She shouldered the Staff, slightly surprised at its weight, and turned to leave when her eye fell on a small round object placed next to the now empty plinth. She bent down to examine it and frowned. It was perfectly round, as large as a children's ball, and seemed to be made of the same material as the Staff, fiery veins along its surface glowing brightly at regular intervals.

Those fools were keeping another of the Founder's possessions here? All the good they could have done with it, and yet they kept it locked up behind heavy doors, never to be used. What a disgusting waste!

With a nod to herself and a decisive grip, she stowed the small orb into one of the many pouches on her belt. Even if they would never use it, it would be unwise to leave such a powerful object in the hands of the nobles. Besides, Fouquet and her allies would need every advantage they could get their fingers on. Fouquet grinned as she closed the Vault's heavy doors after herself.

After all, the revolution had just begun.

...

Ezio recognized the strange ironic humour some might have seen in his situation, even though he found it anything but amusing. After just jumping off the Academy's highest roof, here he was, being forced to scale it once more.

No, he thought grimly as the building threatened to shake him off once more as tremors ran through it, not funny at all.

He had quickly given up on the idea of climbing the side of the Academy where the stone monster had decided to make its entrance – apparently, it had taken to cheerfully punch the old edifice at random, leaving house-sized holes in the ancient stonework despite those centuries of layered protective enchantments that Colbert had so proudly told him about when the distracted professor had given him a small guided tour of the Academy.

So Ezio had taken the safer, if decidedly longer route by climbing the building's other side, trying desperately to hold on as the monstrosity merrily laid waste to the old cathedral-sized edifice, nearly losing his grip every second moment or so and dodging bits of falling masonry.

I reiterate, he thought, scowling as a razor-sharp broken shingle sailed past his head, barely missing him by a few inches. Not funny at all.

He kept scaling and heaved himself onto a comparatively safer windowsill, throwing a quick look down into the courtyard below. One of the Vestri Court's walls had completely collapsed, the Musketeers trying their best to herd the panicking festival visitors out of the danger zone as chunks of stone of all sizes and glass shards rained down upon them. There were flashes of fire, streams of water flowing around to deflect falling debris, and the earth moved like a sentient being to protect the fleeing commoners and free those trapped by the – apparently, the teachers and more powerful nobles were doing their best to protect everyone. But still, it was easy to see that it wasn't enough – the still forms of men, women and children littered the courtyard, crushed by falling stones or trampled in the stampede. Some of them were wearing the Academy's uniform. And who even knew how many had found themselves under a falling boulder...

Ezio grit his teeth and launched himself up, his fingers finding a grip on a scowling gargoyle that he used as a small springboard to climb even higher, not stopping even for a moment and feeling nothing but murder in his heart. That madwoman had killed innocents. Had killed children. She had to be stopped. He would gladly make sure of it.

After an agonizing effort that set his muscles on fire, he finally reached the main nave's highest roof, the whole building shaking under his feet as another punch of the stony fist impacted against it, shaking loose roof tiles and breaking coloured glass. Ezio swiftly ran over to the other side and peered down at the stone monster defacing the Academy in a brutal, roughshod, and apparently completely random manner. Apparently it had little intelligence on its own.

Suddenly it stilled and cocked its deformed sideways in a disturbingly human gesture before slowly moving an open palm towards one of the destroyed floors. Ezio tensed, watching carefully as the cloaked woman from before stepped onto its hand, something long carried over its shoulder.

Something long, golden, and very, very familiar.

Ezio stared in disbelief, jaw agape. The Papal Staff. The Papal Staff was here, of all places? But that was impossible! It had been lost in the catacombs of St. Peter's cathedral decades ago! He had seen it disappear himself! Niccólo had promised him that the Assassins would make sure that it stayed there, out of the hands of man! And this was another world, entirely separate from his own!

But then all rational thought left him, the cold calculating fury of a predator replacing it. This woman had killed innocents, had butchered children for this? To gain power? There was no question in his mind now. She would die.

He took a deep breath, centring himself and running the estimates he would need for distance, and stepped back for a small running start. And then he leapt like he had countless times before, hidden blades hissing out as he brought his arms to pierce her stomach and throat, gravity and momentum giving him more weight and power than he would ever have when crossing blades on the ground.

Perhaps he had stepped on a cracked roof tile when he moved. Perhaps it had been a slight shift in the air when he leapt down on her. Perhaps it had been some unknown sorcery that he would never really understand.

Whatever it was, the hooded woman turned around and looked up as he hurtled towards her, blades extended, her eyes widening in utter shock as Ezio crashed down on her, bringing her down onto the golem's scraggly surface with all his speed and weight and driving the hidden blades home.

Instead of the familiar sound of metal tearing flesh, however, he only heard the scrape of metal on stone. The stupefied Assassin watched as the liquid stone bubbled through her torn clothes, the magical earth encasing the woman's body to protect her.

Oh, that was just not fair.

"YOU!" she shrieked, struggling as she lay trapped under him. "How did you get here?"

Cold black eyes narrowed as he glared at her. Green hair, spectacles, green eyes, and that voice... "I know you."

That only made her fight even more against him, her panic increasing, but Ezio held firm, raising his blade to ram it through her eye. "Requiescat in pa—"

The earth around her body moved and bubbled in an instant, flowing towards her head, and before Ezio could finish his words, she had drawn herself up and headbutted him with all her might.

Feeling as if his skull had been stomped on by an elephant – did she encase her head in stone? – the Assassin staggered back, unable to keep his hold on the woman as she scrabbled to get away. A boot slammed into the side of his head, making his vision blur, and he looked up groggily to see her look down at him in disgust, green eyes full of fury as she got to her feet, shaking as the skin of the golem moved around her feet like splashing water.

"How dare you!" she screeched at him. "For years and years we and our people have been oppressed, and you think a simple commoner is going to stop me now, when things are finally about to change? I'll have you burn in hell for this, tyrant's henchman, make sure of it!"

She raised her wand, and Ezio, still half-stunned and reacting more out of instinct than anything else, leapt up and grappled with her, interrupting her spell-casting mid-movement. He slammed an armoured fist into her face, making her stumble back and curse him.

No more words. She will die.

Easier thought than done, however. Fouquet stepped back on the golem's swaying arm to get room for the wand movements required for her spells, Ezio doing his damnedest to close in and interrupt her, yet still unable to pierce the moving stone that had engulfed her body like a suit of living armour, protecting him from his attacks. They both stumbled around as the golem moved spastically, the gigantic marionette confused by the many cut-off orders its master was sending its way, trampling a few houses under its feet.

Ezio grit his teeth as a violent movement of the golem's arm nearly threw him off – the thief seemed to have found a way to anchor herself to her damned creature's skin. If he had carried a double-handed war hammer with him, the kind that crushed skulls and bones even when the opponent wore plate mail, he might have stood a chance of injuring, perhaps even concussing her through her unnatural stone armour. But he only had blades – more versatile, lighter, easier to conceal, and utterly useless against this unnatural tool of Old Osmond's treacherous secretary. And who would have expected an attack like this on a festival?

The Doge's killer cursed as a tendril of flowing stone slammed into his chest, the impact dulled by Altair's armour. Of all the people here, he should have at least considered the possibility. In his old age, he'd become complacent.

There was an explosion that shook the golem, making it totter back on its stumpy legs, arms waving frantically to keep its balance. Ezio and the woman, now grappling with each other on the monster's shoulder, were violently thrown apart before he managed to get his fingers clamped around her throat, both somehow managing to grab onto the monster's craggy skin and hold on.

Ezio heaved himself back up only to see his enemy prepared and ready for him, Papal Staff in one hand and her wand in the other. The Staff pulsed once with golden light and her wand slashed upward like a sword, the command "Étouffe!" leaving her mouth as a scream.

And then Ezio felt himself unable to move as the part of the golem's skin he stood on flowed upward like an inverted waterfall to grab him around the throat, constricting his windpipe and cleanly lifting him off his feet, choking him.

Fouquet marched towards him, her raised wand trailing circles and a sadistic gleam in her eye, enjoying every moment as the malleable stone slowly made his lungs soundlessly scream for air—

And then another explosion, the largest and loudest this far, tore into the golem, reducing it to nothing more than a few huge chunks of inert stone and loosening the improvised garrotte around his neck. Ezio stumbled away from her, grabbing at his own throat and gasping for breath. Moments away from fainting, he never realized he was standing at the very end of the collapsing golem's shoulder.

And then he toppled over the edge, falling freely.

...

Louise wanted to run after Ezio and ask him what in Founder's Name he thought he was doing, leaving her all alone to fend for herself, until she found herself behind a wall of Musketeers barring the crowd's way from stampeding the princess. Her familiar had been right again – she really was safer with Henrietta, after all.

Agnès had jumped over the table in front of Henrietta, drawing her sword even though it would be as useful as a toothpick against the rampaging golem. "Fouquet the Sculptor!" she shouted, catching the assembled teachers' attention immediately. "Musketeers! Protect Her Highness!"

The princess herself had leapt to her feet as pandemonium broke out in the Vestri Court, students and commoners fighting to get away from the gargantuan monster of living stone as it started destroying the Academy, the teachers shouting and drawing their wands, the screams of the injured filling the air as chunks of falling masonry found their first victims.

Henrietta frowned as she helped Louise to her fee without even looking at her. "Fouquet's not here to kill me," she muttered to herself as she watched the scene unfold.

Louise blinked, confused. "Pardon?"

"Agnès!" Henrietta shouted, her Musketeer Captain looking quizzically over her shoulder at her sovereign. "Tell your men to open the gates and get the people outside! Now!"

"Your Highness, I can't! We won't have enough soldiers to protect you!"

Henrietta glared at her bodyguard, her blue eyes chilling. "If they were trying to kill me, they would have done so already instead of using a clumsy golem to attack the Academy itself! Open those gates now, Agnès!"

The scarred woman swore in a rather unladylike manner before beginning to bellow orders at her subordinate, the armed men wading into the stampede to throw open the gates and perhaps restore some order, as hopeless as it might have seemed. You didn't become a Musketeer by simply giving up at the first obstacle.

Henrietta drew her wand, smiling faintly at Louise. "Et bien," she said casually as she began waving her wand in a complicated series of movements, "this isn't exactly how I wanted our reunion to go, to be honest, but I guess Fouquet had other plans. Are you injured?"

"N-no, milady, I'm fine," Louise got out, quaking with fear as she saw the golem punching holes into the Academy and dropping debris into the courtyard. She wanted to scream when she saw a small commoner family nearly crushed by a house-sized piece of masonry, only for it be reduced to a thousand harmless pieces away by a stream of superheated flame. She saw Professor Colbert step forward, his face furious and the tip of his staff smoking.

"Shield spells if you can manage them, Mesdames et Messieurs!" he barked out, his commanding voice ringing out loudly across the whole courtyard. "Protect the visitors! Ignore Fouquet, a Blood Golem is nearly indestructible! Earth mages, raise shields and get the injured out of here! Water mages, get ready to give first aid! Air and fire mages, shoot the larger debris if you can; deflect them if you can't! Let's go!"

And then he was gone, experienced strikes of his staff gaining him easy passage amongst the stampede. A moment later, another boulder was reduced to nothing more than molten slag when a snake of fire snatched it right out of the air.

Henrietta smiled brightly, finishing her own wand movement, a streamer of water as long as fifty to sixty feet forming from the tip of her wand. "You heard him, ladies and gentlemen!" she called out. "Protect the people!"

Soon, Louise watched with awe as Madame Chèvreuse erected roofs of solid stone to protect cowering commoners and hurled large chunks of stone into the sky to reduce falling debris into nothing more than falling grit. Rogue had drawn himself up, jabbing his wand like a sword and muttering incredibly complicated incantations under his breath, his air spells diverting falling debris from fleeing students and commoners, invisible blades of air cleanly slicing a house-sized balustrade into smaller pieces with a mere flick of his wand. She thought she saw Professor Colbert a few times in the crowd as he summoned burst after burst of flame, melting the smaller pieces of falling debris into cinders, the flaming snake at his command grabbing larger hunks of masonry in its jaws and simply melting them until nothing was left.

Henrietta had apparently used the humidity in the air to create several tentacle-like streamers of water, the talented magician using them to bat away the lethal wreckage with ease as Sister Catherine ran to and fro, frantically attending to the most grievous injuries. Old Osmond had gotten up from his seat, waving his wand in a complicated movement and simply stopping part of the falling rubble in mid-air, compressing it into minuscule cubes with a single wand movement and letting it safely drop.

The less talented teachers and even some of the more powerful students joined in, waving wands and muttering incantations of varying complexity, the most level-headed students and commoners helping the Musketeers with the evacuation and carrying out the wounded and those that couldn't leave by themselves ("Children and elderly, lads! Get 'em out of here!").

And yet it wasn't enough, not even nearly enough. Thanks to her training with Ezio ("Always be aware of your surroundings, Louise,"), she saw and heard it all: the screams of the dying, wailing commoners as they tried vainly to lift far too heavy boulders that had crushed one of their loved ones, others writhing in pools of their own blood, missing limbs or deeply lacerated by shards of falling glass, the nearly indestructible Blood Golem continuing to deface the Academy and hurling broken stone onto the panicking crowd below. From the surrounding city, trails of smoke rose into the sky – Fouquet had apparently set fire to a few houses to distract the rescue efforts. Clever and cold-blooded, as expected of him.

Louise wanted to be sick as she watched the carnage unfold. Never before had she felt so utterly useless. She couldn't summon shields, she couldn't deflect a measly pebble, she couldn't do anything to help, she couldn't save anyone, she was again a ZERO!

"You have an interesting familiar," Henrietta addressed her, sweat on her forehead as she finished another incantation and batted away a cannonball-sized missile out of the sky, badly startling Louise as it sailed part them to crash into one of the Vestri Court's walls.

"Yes, I have," Louise got out as she watched someone run past them towards one of the gates, bleeding profusely from the scalp and screaming incoherently. "Thank you for noticing," she added lamely.

"He's very interesting, I mean," the princess continued as if they were at a dinner party instead of dodging death with every piece of falling masonry, giving her a brief smile before concentrating once more on her spells. "You summoned him in the Springtime Summoning Ritual, correct? And yet he's a commoner? Ah, no matter. Where did he run off to, anyway?"

"I don't know, Your Highness," Louise said worriedly, trying to get a better look around. Ezio wouldn't be in the crowd, it was teeming with people; he would probably prefer the heights; but why had he suddenly run off like tha—

"Injustice is one of my pet peeves, child. People tend to die when I'm annoyed."

She frantically looked up at the golem and gasped when she saw a white-cloaked figure jumping from the Academy's roof, sailing through the air to land on the gigantic puppet's shoulder. Moments later she saw two figures struggling furiously with one another on the stumbling creature, metal flashing in the sun, earth flowing to block it.

"Oh, God and His saints," the girl whispered, watching with growing horror as her familiar was nearly thrown off the rampaging and twisting golem, only to launch himself again at Fouquet when he regained his footing, blades drawn. "Don't do this, Ezio, please."

"You see him?" the princess asked eagerly.

"He's fighting Fouquet!"

Henrietta looked at her, eyes widening in shock. "But he's a commoner! He's going to get himself killed!"

Don't say that, please don't say that.

Louise jumped onto the forgotten jurors' table to get more space, drawing her wand and realizing that she could do absolutely nothing with it to help Ezio. She wanted to scream. What kind of master was she if she couldn't even protect her familiar at a time like this?

Wait. Control. Magic was all about control. Ezio had shown her that she had control. He'd shown her that she really was a mage, not a failure. He'd proved it to her, hadn't he?

She desperately called for that elusive power inside of her, forcing it to bend to her will. When she thought she had a half-decent grasp of it, she pointed her wand at the golem and desperately yelled out her incantation. "Explosion!"

The monstrous humanoid stumbled back as half of its arm was simply vaporized, but both Ezio and Fouquet held on doggedly. Fouquet quickly got the upper hand as Ezio lost his balance, the thief's wand moving like a whip to encase to encase her familiar in stone, suspending him in the air and choking the life out of him.

Please don't die, Ezio, please—

She screamed out her spell once more in fear, more power than she ever thought was even possible flowing out her arm and out the tip of her wand. The torso of the immense golem was torn apart by a gigantic ball of flame, the shockwave that followed it shaking Fouquet and freeing her familiar.

And Louise was forced to watch with absolute horror as Ezio simply fell from the golem's shoulder, dropping out of sight beyond the courtyard's walls.

...

I love the smell of cliffhangers in the morning.

Right, now that we have that out of the way, ladies and gentlemen time for the obligatory explanation why this update is about a month late. I actually have a very valid one, at least in my opinion.

Voilà: my computer broke down. Literally died on me from one moment to the next when I turned it on. No prior warning, nothing, nada. Just beep, dead. And all my stories, all the ones that I had poured all of my loving care into, my blood, sweat, and tears, were gone just like that. This included chapter six of On The Wings Of An Eagle, Chapter Ten of Miserly Old Man, Trickster Fox (my Naruto story), the four chapters I had already written for The Oncoming Storm (My Mahou Sensei Negima! story), and all my notes and sketches for the stories I had buzzing around in my head, and there were quite a few of those. All in all, I must have lost about sixty to eighty pages of work that was more or less ready for publishing and only needed minor editing, and all it took was the push of one button and a computer that seemed determined to troll me to destroy it all.

I think you can imagine my stunned disbelief while I stared at my blank computer screen, followed by probably the greatest bout of incoherent rage I've had in years. 'Flipping the table' doesn't even begin to describe what I wanted to do. I settled for simply kicking the floor (I was in a friend's house, and furniture is expensive) and walking off my stress in the city until I could actually talk civilly to someone again. God, I was pissed off.

But! And this is an important but. I have a tendency to edit a chapter three or four times when finishing a scene. You'd be surprised how much of that gets stuck in your head. This allowed me to more or less reconstruct the lost work, and I thank my lucky stars and guardian angel (if I have one, that is) that I seem to have been blessed with an extraordinary memory for language. Or maybe I'm just a stupid bighead. I guess we'll never know.

However, the chapter has taken some hits, and some parts are inferior to the original – Louise's and Kirche's conversation, for example, flowed better in the original version. By the way, I swear that Kirche wrote that scene, not me – it wasn't planned to be that long when I started writing it, and decidedly less suggestive. She's the one responsible for the 'beast with two backs' comment, I swear! Don't blame me!

Ahem. Well, I wrote this chapter back down by hand (no computer, see?) while on holiday (in-between finally relaxing a bit after exams), coming in at about twenty or so hand-written pages, and then spent the last three days at home typing it up and editing, which was about twenty-seven typed pages. And here it is, all fresh and shiny. I hope you liked reading it.

Right. My computer still has warranty, so I hope I'm getting it repaired or a replacement soon. Life is generally good, even if it can occasionally kick you in the nuts. Well, I guess I'll have to live with that like everyone else.

Anyway! I want to thank a few people, if you'll allow me.

First off, a big hand to Shadenight123, who was one of my first reviewers, always provides excellent criticism, and – more importantly – has provided me with incredibly awesome translations for Italian phrases that I'm too stupid to know. Mille grazie, maestro!

A big thank you to The Q Continuum, Sigma-del-Prisium and Mutant Rancor for your incredibly detailed reviews and the enlightening conversations we had on various random subjects afterwards. There's more to this website than just publishing stories, and you guys proved it to a complete newbie like me. Thank you very much.

Oh yeah, and The Q Continuum and I had a lot of fun by writing an 'Author's Creed' for us writers in the fanfiction community. Well, he wrote the basics, I adapted it a bit to make it flow better. All the melodrama in this is mine, not Q's. Hope you like it!

...

There are many stories that are nothing more than... pastiches, written by unimaginative copycats and lazy writers, repeating word for word events in other stories and wasting the time of the one reading it.

And then there are many stories that are written by shallow and greedy men pandering to their audience, not daring to break out of the cage they have built for themselves, to surprise them, to create something new.

And then there are those who blindly follow what is known as the 'canon', not daring to break out of the mould that the original Creators gave us. Yet if they gave us such great gifts of imagination and the ability to exercise our free will, is it not a travesty for us to cling to stringent and arbitrary conventions, to write stories that make no effort to create something new, something inventive, something different?

And that is why, Author, realize the truth of these words.

Where other men blindly follow others, fearful of creating something entirely their own, remember: Nothing is true.

Where other men are limited by the fear of their audience's backlash, by mainstream demand, terrified of breaking the mould and example set by society and their peers, remember: Everything is permitted.

To write what is right, and right what is wrong.
We work in the dark to serve the light.
We are Authors.

Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.

Rise, Author. Join the ranks of your countless brethren, and go on to enchant your readers, horrify them, make them laugh and cry and fear and feel.

Then you will surely have changed the world for the better.

...

I should think of adapting that a bit. Hm. What do you think, ladies and gentlemen?

I have a few other specific questions for you, if you don't mind answering them in your comments. Of course, I will welcome anything else you wish to tell me as well!

What did you think of the way I wrote Henrietta and her interaction with Ezio?

Did you like the descriptions of the Familiar's Fair?

What did you think Of Louise's and Kirche's conversation?

What did you think of the scene from Fouquet's POV?

How did the fight scenes between Ezio and Fouquet flow, in your opinion?

Anything else you think is worthy of mention, please, tell me!

Well, I will be eagerly awaiting your critique and criticism. I will say again and again that all opinions are welcome!

My next update for this story is still hanging up in the air. It will definitely come at some point, but it still needs to be written, edited, and all the other hullaballoo (I love that word) associated with writing. I won't give you a specific date (because I am apparently awful at keeping deadlines), but the next chapter is in the works, and will probably be out in a month (let's just hope I didn't jinx myself there). If my style of writing amuses you, go take a look at my other stories; I think you'll get a few hours of amusement out of them.

It was an absolute pleasure to have you back here again. And if you actually read all of my sleep-deprived rambling above, I congratulate you. And thank you very, very much for having read this story of mine. Your comments brighten up my world. Thank you.

...

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.

Again, please support the official release, and be kind enough to leave a review.