Chapter 1: Past

Dante

It was night. The streets were dark. Only a few lights were seen in the windows. The sky was bathed in deep black and the stars glittered with the moon to the bet. I crouched in an alley and waited.

Tonight I was supposed to kill Francesco Autorio, a wealthy merchant who was involved in the murder of the king's daughter Lucia, some time ago. He had pulled the young woman into an alley, along with 3 other men. They raped her and then strangled her. And all this just because the king had not given them permission to operate with Greece.

It's terrible what people do to harm others.

But one thing was, Francesco had to get his punishment and I had to do it. His other two accomplices had already faced death, so I had to be even more careful, because he probably made arrangements to avoid having to share the same fate.

Autorio lived in a pompously furnished mansion. Even from the outside could be seen that he had to be a big shot. I looked at the villa. I knew that he wasn't at home. There had been a meeting at the other end of town from which he would probably return soon. I prepared myself to kill him without much tumult, but he anyway should suffer from terrible pain. He didn't deserved it different.

I shifted my position, because the grip of my dagger began to bore into my belly. I was getting impatient. Not really a good attribute for an Assassin. But now I've been waiting for 2 hours. I sat up and leaned against the wall of the alley. Hidden in the shadows I saw nobody. I pulled the dagger from its sheath and looked at it. It had a simple grip with a few small ornaments. The blade was also made easy. All in all it was a seemingly simple and ordinary dagger, however, it meant a lot to me.

I remember exactly how I'd get it. I was a little boy. A street kid with little to eat and no family. My parents were murdered by a group of armed men. I was only 8 years. My mother was the daughter of a rich trader and my father was an assassin. I was training a lot with him. He taught me everything. The movements, the use of the sword and dagger - everything. One day before their murder, he had given me his best dagger. I still see him standing in front of me.

"Dante, I have a surprise for you." I came out of the crouched stance, in which I found myself and I turned to my father. His golden brown hair shining in the sun. He was wearing a brown pants and a beige shirt. His hand was resting on the grip of his sword. His brown eyes looked at me. He was young, but the scar on his left cheek gave him a little old, wise and experienced touch. He got it in a fight.

I went to my father and looked up at him. He looked at me and put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm very proud of you, my son." he said. Cautiously he knelt in front of me and held me against his dagger. "This dagger is now yours. Always take it with you, you never know when you'll need it." I took the dagger in my hand and inspected it. Again and again I turned the weapon in my hands. He confided me his best dagger. Me, an eight year old boy. I did not know if I was ready for it. I looked back at my father, who had been stood up again. "But Father ..."

"No. No "But" Dante. It's yours. I know you can handle with it.. You are very good for your age."

Again he put his hand on my shoulder. I looked at the dagger for a while. A deadly weapon in the hands of an eight-year-old. Nevertheless, I noticed that my father knew exactly what he did. Once more I looked him deeply into his eyes. They shone with pride and satisfaction. His actually hard gaze gave way to a warm smile. I also began to smile. Slowly I walked toward my father and hugged him. He answered my action by concluding his arms around me and pressed me to him.

"I'm very proud of you, my son." He whispered in my ear. We lingered so some time before we perceived the calls of my mother.

"Dante! Remo! Please come into the house. Food is ready." My mother stood in the door. She was still young, and had dark brown, long hair, which fell as curls over her shoulders. She was slender and almost always wore a dark red dress with a bright apron dress. I ran to my mother and proud presented her father's gift. She looked at me surprised. In her eyes there was a shocked expression. Nevertheless, she tried not to show it.

" What a great gift from your father." She replied with a tired smile. "Go into the house, my dear and set the table, please. I still have something to discuss with your father. "

My mother looked with an anxious and angry facial expressions equal to my father, who was calmly walked towards us.

I disappeared into the house. My mother closed the door a little, but I could hear what my parents said. I crept to the door that was ajar and watched her.

"Do you think that's really a good idea?" My mother asked anxiously.

"He is good for his age."

"This is not the answer to my question." She replied tartly.

"It is for his own safety. Eventually, he would need it. Perhaps very soon. I want him to defend himself. "Said my father back seriously.

"I do not like it when you talk like this." My mother's expression was sad.

"Fabrizia, you don't have to worry about. I'll try to protect both of you as best as I can. You two are the most important things I have in my life. "

"Of what you have to protect us?" Asked my mother scared.

"There's danger in the air, Fabrizia. That is why I trained so much with Dante. He must be prepared. "

"But for what?"

I had eagerly followed the conversation between my parents. I also wanted to know what my father meant. Finally it was about me. But as I knew my father he would not tell my mother what I had to be prepared about. And I was right.

"Let's talk some other time," my father avoid her question and took her in his arms. He gently kissed her and stroked the flour from her cheek.

"Let us go inside. It's getting cold out here. "He whispered to my mother. She nodded and turned to the door. Quickly I jumped up and ran to our closet to get the plates for the food.

What did my father mean? And why was he so worried? These questions went trough my head. But I should get the answer soon.

The next day my mother brought me to bed as usual.

"Sleep well." She said to me before she blew out the candles and went back down to my father.

In the middle of the night I was suddenly awakened by loud cries. It came from below. I just wanted to stand up, when suddenly my bedroom door flung open and my mother came running toward me.

"Quick! Get dressed." She said to me. She was very hectic and already had her brown coat on and her hood over her head. I was very sleepy and wanted to ask what was wrong, but my mother pushed me that I should hurry and we had no more time.

I did what she said and dressed up fast. She gave me my coat.

"Put it on and then come." She said, handing me her hand. I took it. We just wanted to run, when I received a flash of inspiration.

"Wait, my dagger."

She turned to face me. "Dante, we have no time for anything."

"Got it yet already." I said, and came running toward her. Just when we were about to leave the room a large and powerful man stood in our path.

"Where are you going so fast?" He asked with a shabby grin. I could exactly feel the anxiety of my mother. The man came up to us. We went a step backwards. My mother desperately looking for something. Suddenly she saw the candlesticks on the table next to us and grabbed it. Quickly and accurately she beat the man on his head. But he act without batting an eyelash. He pulled a dagger from his pocket and slammed him into the belly of my mother. I screamed. With an obnoxious grin the man pulled the dagger out again. My mother fell to the ground. Blood trickled from the wound and pooled on the floor.

"Dante, run!" She tried to bring out, but the words were only a quiet sound. My mother fell to the side. The eyes and mouth open. A pool of blood formed under her body. Blood dripped also from her mouth. Tears ran down my cheeks.

The man who killed my mother, freezing grinned me in the face. I could sense his foul breath. And otherwise the smell of alcohol. I was angry and sad at the same. Hated I ran to the man with a drawn dagger. He was much taller than me but I could chase him the weapon in the thigh. With a pained expression he exclaimed. I pulled the blade out of his leg and pushed him with all my strength to the side. He fell on the table, which collapsed under his weight. He laid there unconscious. So fast my legs could carried me, I ran down the stairs. In the kitchen, I met my father, who fought against two other men. I stayed in the doorway. The view of my father met mine. In his eyes I could see exactly what he asked himself. Where was Mom? But he could read the answer to his question out of my eyes. In his hard, fierce face mingled sadness and vulnerability.

"Dante! RUN! "He shouted at me and cut one of the men trough the throat. This one fell to the ground. A pool of blood formed under him. I saw at my father's movements, that he was injured. At his side there was a deep wound from which blood flowed.

The second man only stared in shock at the corpse of his accomplices, he became angry and attacked my father, but this avoided the hateful whip.

"Dante! I said RUN! "He yelled at me again and tried to escape the attacks. Suddenly, the man grabbed another knife and burred it into my fathers belly. I exclaimed. My father's eyes widened. But he countered and rammed his attacker also a dagger into his abdomen and then pushed him away. His attacker staggered and fell against the chairs, and finally he broke down and was lying dead on the kitchen floor next to his accomplices.

Shocked, I stared at the two corpses. The blood of the two mixed up already. I looked over to my father, who tried desperately to hold on to the kitchen cupboard. I ran over to him. At the exact moment when I was by his side, he collapsed. I knelt down to him and let my dagger, which I grabbed the whole time fall to the ground.

"Papá! Papá! "

I looked at his wounds. From both a lot of blood flowed. He was holding his side. I pushed with all my strength against his wound in the abdomen in order to stop the bleeding.

"Dante." He began weakly. I looked at him. His eyes were sad and tired. "You have to flee my boy. Are you listening? "

Tears ran down my face. I did not know what to say. My father raised his hand to my face and wiped a tear away. His breathing was heavy.

"I'm so sorry I could not protect you and your mother." His voice died away . I looked at him as a tear ran down his cheek.

"I'm very proud of you, Dante." I could hardly hear the sentence. My father turned his head to the side. His hand, which had rested until then on my cheek, fell lifeless to the ground. He was dead, I let go of his wound. His blood stuck on my hands. I cried and put my head on my father's body. Thus passed some time until I had recovered.

I stood up slowly.

"I'm very proud of you. And to Mom."

I picked up my knife and ran from the house. Far away. I never turned back.

I stared at the dagger in my hands. With this knife I would now kill Francesco Autorio. He didn't deserved it different, just like the pigs that had killed my parents 16 years ago.

I was ready to kill. Because I'm an assassin.

Suddenly I heard footsteps. I knew it was Francesco and I was the one who knew his time was up. I got ready to jump out from my hiding place.

And then ...

Hey guys,

I'm so sorry for not uploading so long, but anyhow I was a little bit busy.

Please forgive me and Mia the few grammar mistakes. Nobody is perfect...

So I hope you had enjoyed these chapter and could tell me if you like it or not.

I also hope you had wonderful holidays and a great start into the new year.

PiaNoir (writer) &&'nd MiaNoir (translater)