Chapter 5:
117isme: Ahhhh! gamer girls unite! I started on the first one, the smosh song being my kick to start it, having just finished the dead space series.
Okay, So I think two people asked if I stopped working on this story, and I did actually forget about if for a while. :p But I got too it, and actually didn't have too much trouble writing up a chapter. A few chapters actually. Soooo, heres the requested chapter. I know its not very interesting but it leads up into the next one.
I looked back out over the west tower over the dry landscape, trying to imagine myself looking out over this same stretch of landscape for the rest of my life. No falcons, trees, flat rooftops and gardens with their bright red and yellow banners. I frowned and looked away from the disagreeable landscape. I didn't intend on being pleasant on my stay here, and shut myself in my room, taking my sweet time with putting away my few clothes.
It seemed that no matter what I did, my thoughts wandered back to Fang. Like what he was doing in Florence, why he probably lied to me about his name, and what I felt when we made eye contact. I felt the window, sitting on the pale blue bed, toying with the beading on the comforter.
I jumped when someone pounded on the door, the voice of the boy from the courtyard trying to get me to open the door. He told me his name was Dylan, and that he was my fiance, that of course that shut down any future conversation.
I cringed as he cursed and left, his boots stomping angrily down the hall like a ten year old who didn't get his way. I huffed and rolled onto my back, looking up at the high ceiling, wishing it was the lower one at home. I stayed as quiet as I could, hoping that if I just lied here for long enough I would just shrivel up and die.
Fang P.O.V.
I moved away quietly as Dylan pulled Maximum into his arms, who visibly stiffened and didn't return the hug. He glared at me over her blonde head and I sent him a half smile, my eyes concealed under my hood. I moved away from them towards the gate to the top of the castle. It was coincidence that Max would be married to the future governor of Florence, the place where the heart of the brotherhood was located. I climbed up the steep stairs to find the master, pushing past women with pots balanced on their heads and guards who stiffened at the sight of me.
Ignoring them, I walked into the haven, up to the library to where the master was looking out the huge windows behind his desk. Without even looking at me, his low voice boomed through the open space,
"Fang, I received your progress. Very good, I can say I was impressed." I struggle to hold down a smirk of satisfaction, and he reached under his huge wood desk, pulling out from under it my crossbow and my quiver of red-feathered bolts (like arrows just thicker and shorter). I watched the sun glint off the sun glint off its metal in the afternoon light from the tall windows, it was pushed carefully across the table to me, and I quickly swiped in up, buckling the quiver over my shoulders, and hanging the crossbow over the top of the quiver.
I quickly straightened, and the master turned to look away from me, looking out the tall windows with his hands clasped behind his back.
"I have no more missions for you. Take a few weeks, Fang." He said, turning to send me a warm smile. I stood stock still, not used to receiving any affection, but he walked slowly around the table to place a hand on my shoulder.
"You may stay up in the masters loft if you wish, you have reached the highest status in your training, there is nothing else I can teach you." I just watched him, not quite sure what to make of his words. He dismissed me and I slowly walked out of his library, wondering to myself what to do with myself now. The brotherhood took me in when I was two, having lost my parents. Until I was six I lived and admired the assassins who came and went around me, seeing the master more as a parent as the memory of my true parents faded from memory.
I climbed up the ladder behind a bookshelf to the lofts, only three doors on the narrow, hidden hallway. I went town to the door at the end of the hall, cracking the door open a crack to see if anyone else had taken this room. It was empty aside from a light wood wardrobe to the left of the room beside a small glass window and a bed with sheets stood in the middle of the room, a small fireplace with an old, unused cooking pot suspended over it and several embroidered cushions scattered around it sat near the small fireplace. I walked slowly into the room, taking in the musky smell and the soft light that streamed in through the windows.
I didn't have a place that was labeled as home for me since I was two, and the warm feeling of someplace solid and tangible to call home was a new experience for me. I looked around the room and took off my long, white tunic after removing all my weapons and setting them in an empty corner to my right, I hung my tunic on a corner of the wardrobe, leaving me with only my loose brown pants and boots on.
I stretched as I looked outside over the small city of Florence, the sun sinking and orange over the flat-roofed buildings. I turned away from the window, and back into the cold room. I took a few logs from the floor next to the fireplace and stacked them inside the fireplace, and lighting them, the logs slowly catching on fire. I went back to the wardrobe, hunting through the bottom two doors for anything I could eat. Finding a new day old rolls and what I guessed was a quarter pound of horse meat tied in rough brown cloth. I smiled and tossed it in the air and caught it, unwrapping the fresh meat and throwing it in the small cooking pot that hung over the fire on four long, iron legs. I ate small pieces of the bread, breaking up pieces of the meat with a knife in the drawer, and just smelled it cook. I didn't eat very often because of how much I moved around Israel, and food was too hard to carry around with me.
"Tomorrow, will be a spa day!" I declared softly to myself, pumping both fists in the air as I flopped back on the floor cushions around the fire. I rolled around in the pile of big, silk cushions in the soft warmth of the fire as the sun sunk. Feeling sleepy, I used an old black tunic that was bundled in a wad inside of the dresser to pull the pot, now full of meat simmering in its own juices, and set it down in front of me. Impatiently, I raised a spoonfull of a few chunks of meat above the pot, wanting it to cool faster. I couldn't name the last time I had meat, more specifically meat that was mine and not stolen. I greedily ate the meat from the spoon, burning my tongue and having to tip my head backwards and blow out white steam.
The room around me slowly darkened as I ate the last of the cooked meat and watched the orange fire. When the pot was empty, I scooped up the last scrapings of the bowl with my last bite of bread. I pushed the iron bowl away from me with my foot and leaned back into the floor cushions, taking my hair out of its ponytail and letting it hang down my back. I pulled out some of the tangles, and pushed myself up from the cushions and got into the bed that was pushed neatly into a corner. All the bed really was, was a big bag full of all the hay it could hold, and covered in pillows that lined the walls and many layers of blankets.
Outside was dark, and the usual bustling of Florence had fallen quiet. I pulled the thick blankets up around my head so only my face had to be in the cold. I watched the fire as I blinked sleepily. I ducked my face out of the cold and under the soft blankets, falling asleep with thoughts of fresh tomatoes and...Maximum?