A/N: And here it is, the next chapter. Long wait - very very sorry about that (school and uhm... other stuff got in the way). Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Assassin's Creed universe. All i own is my hyperactive imagination and my own characters.
They arrived at the raided house roughly forty minutes later. It was in the outskirts of London's middleclass district, but it looked to belong in the poor. Everything was knocked over, the few pieces of furniture were broken and anything of value gone. Adea stood there for a little while, just looking at the debris. Her mother's body had already been taken away. The local authorities had most likely already dumped it in the Thames. She then slowly made her way to the far corner of the room and knelt down on the floor. She grimaced when she moved her ankle a little too much. Grabbing a broken fire poker and sticking it in between the two of the wooden boards, she pried one of them open. Emilio watched in silence as she pulled out a long rectangular box. It was nothing special, just an ordinary box from the looks of it. But it had to hold some value, if it was hidden away like that. He was quick to help Adea up when he saw she was struggling on her own. She smiled at him and he felt a small tug in his stomach. But he thought it to be nothing more that hunger, since he had not eaten much that day. The young woman blew a light layer of dust off the box before opening it. Inside rested a pouch that jingled as Adea lifted it up. Underneath it laid a letter and what looked to be a pair of bracers with neat metal workings. With slightly shaking hands she picked the piece of paper up. Ignoring his curiosity, Emilio walked over and picked up the only unbroken chair. He placed it so Adea could sit and read.
"Thank you" she said, but she didn't lift her gaze from the paper. Emilio leaned his back to the wall and quietly watched her. He saw a single tear run down her cheek. She didn't even bother to wipe it away. After a few minutes she looked at the box and pulled out one of the bracers. The assassin thought the design was familiar, and a few moments later he realized what they were. But he said nothing.
When she was done she looked up at him. He could see her eyes were watery, but despite that a smile was on her lips.
"My mother," she started, "she wrote that my father was an assassin." At this the Italian lifted his head from the slightly bowed position it had been in.
"Really?"
"Yes. These were his," she held up the bracers, "what are they?"
"Hidden blades," the assassin replied and demonstrated one of his own, "an assassin is not whole without their hidden blade."
With spiked interest Adea slipped one on, but it was much too big.
"It can probably be refitted," he told her when he saw the disappointed look on her face.
"Ezio Auditore?" she asked, "who's he?"
Emilio's eyes narrowed slightly. How did she know that name? If all she knew about the Assassins were rumors and legends, she shouldn't know the name of his Mentor. She seemed to notice his slightly more aggressive posture. One he had not even noticed he had switched to.
"My mother mentioned it in her letter," the assassin relaxed again, "she told me to find him." This made Emilio frown. Why would Adea's mother tell her to find il Mentore? She must have had a reason to write it. Perhaps Maestro Ezio would know.
"Anything else?" he asked and Adea shook her head.
"Let us find you some better clothes then" he extended his hand and she took it. As gentle as he could, he pulled her to her feet. Her hand remained on his for a few moments before she blushed and hurried into the next room. Emilio just stood there for a little while, staring at his hand. Why did it tingle like that? Shaking his head he walked after Adea and leaned his shoulder in the doorframe. She was busy picking up clothes strewn all over the floor and sticking them in a rucksack. A few minutes later she straightened up and declared she had what she needed.
He had explained to her how they were to get to Rome. First a boat to France, then they would ride across said country and down Italy. He said it would take approximately 15 days. He would have been able to get there faster on his own, but with her ankle still throbbing from pain they would not be able to ride faster than a walking pace. He had also wanted to buy her a horse, but she had insisted to do so herself. There had been more than enough money in the pouch her mother had left for her. It had surprised her. She had never realized how much her mother had sacrificed just to save all that money for her. She did not have a hard time picking a mount. The midnight black stallion with big brown eyes had seemed to wait just for her. The stable master had told her the beast had been uneasy with letting anyone touching it. Adea had been a little nervous around the horse at first, but she had been drawn to it the second she laid eyes on it. And much to her happiness the creature had affectionately nudged her shoulder and with a smile she had rubbed his muzzle. Emilio said it was a good horse; he had examined it while Adea had patted the stallion. The stable master had been eager to get rid of the horse. No one else would buy it and Adea had ended up paying only half of what it was worth – including saddle and saddlebags.
They had stocked up on supplies; a couple extra water skins, a blanket for Adea and more food, for them and the horses. Adea had briefly wondered if it would last the entire trip, and when she had asked her companion he had told her they would get more along the way. Emilio had also bought more linen for her ankle and had folded it neatly and tucked it in one of his saddlebags. With all they needed for the time being they made their way to Dover. They had to ride through the night if they wanted to catch the boat that would carry them across the English Channel to Calais. Emilio had explained they would have to pay an additional fee to bring the horses along, but it would be no problem.
Adea had never sailed before and she found she wasn't very seaworthy. She had been nauseous the entire time and despite the trip only being half a day, it seemed to be much longer. Emilio had suggested she got some rest, but she couldn't fall asleep. She just lay there on her cot and fought the urge to empty her stomach in the ocean. Emilio seemed completely unaffected by the swinging motions of the deck, but he did not do much else than sleep. While Adea had rested there, she could not help but wonder what she had to expect. She had never been further away from her home than a few miles. Old home, she corrected herself. She was headed for a new life and new opportunities. She would follow her father's footsteps and become an assassin. She would fight the Templars, just like her father, and she would prevent them from harming others. At the thought of her father, Adea felt the memories well up in her. Adea had never known he was an assassin, she had always thought he was a merchant. And now she realized that when he had been away on 'business trips' he had really been out on missions for the Assassin Order. She remembered one of his departures in particular. Her parents had been arguing. She was only twelve at that point – not old enough to understand what they were talking about, but old enough to remember it. Her father had told her mother that he was going to Italy. Her mother had refused to let him go, she said it would be too dangerous. But her father, being stubborn as ever, convinced her to let him go. He had been away a couple of months when they got the letter. Adea had not been allowed to read it, but her mother told her what was written. Her father had been killed. Even though Adea did not spend a lot of time with her father, with him being away most of the time, but when she thought of him, all she remembered was joy. He had always been with her when he was home; he would bring her small presents when he had been abroad for longer than usual. It wasn't much, but Adea had been happy when he was with her. She had gotten used to the pain from thinking of her father, but in the light of recent events, it felt more vivid than ever. Adea sighed. She did not want to think about pain anymore. Pushing her pain aside – for now at least – she rolled to her side, hell-bent on getting some sleep.
Her legs felt wobbly under her body's weight. Her bad leg doing nothing good to help her from falling on her face. Finally, finally they had reached France. She never managed to get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time, but now, standing in a whole new country, she felt energy buzz through her tired veins. The harbor was filled to the brim with people speaking and shouting in languages she did not understand. As Emilio guided her expertly through the masses she could not keep herself from staring at the rapidly speaking Frenchmen, all of them talking so fast that it seemed to her they were just yelling random words. People kept bumping into her, forcing her from side to side and not giving a damn about the rest of the world. They had their own business to care about. After several 'Excusez-Moi's, 'Pardon's and several other French words beyond Adea's comprehension – she was pretty sure Emilio's choice of words included a few swearwords – they reached the edge of the port. She had only been mildly surprised that the assassin could speak French, and when she asked him about this, he only said that Maestro Ezio thought it advantageous to know more than one language. The amount of people started to thin out the further away from the docks they got and to the young woman's joy Emilio considered it plausible to ride out of town. It was only noon when they had arrived in the foreign country so they rode to the outskirts of town to stay overnight there. By the time they found a suitable inn, Adea was exhausted. She groaned when she dismounted the horse. Her legs felt like they had been molded to the form of the saddle, and were now unable to return to their regular position. Back on solid land, the girl had no trouble falling asleep, and she was blessed with dreamlessness.
Emilio awakened her just after dawn. Her eyes would barely open and her mind was still fogged by sleep. A long, annoyed moan escaped her throat.
"Good morning," Emilio greeted her, sounding too awake for Adea to wrap her head around. She huffed a weak answer, but she was quite sure he could not hear it. Her vocal cords were not yet fully under her control. She sat up, shoulders sagged and eyes closed. She dreaded the moment when she had to move her legs. The girl still felt the stiffness that came from riding the first day. She was fully convinced that it would be even more painful now.
"There is a bathhouse not far from here," the assassin said, "it would do you good."
Adea, suddenly much more awake, hesitantly moved her legs. Fresh pain bloomed in her calves and bottom. A very unladylike grunt escaped her lips. She heard the man chuckle. She lifted her tired gaze to him, irritated by seeing a hand slammed over his mouth.
"I bet you weren't feeling any better after your first longer ride," she said making her voice as offended as she could.
"I am sorry. I have almost forgotten," he said, a smile still grazed his lips and Adea had a hard time staying mad at him, "I will wait downstairs." And with that he was out the door and gone. She took a moment to calm her heart. That smile… shaking her head she went find some clothes. It was a long and painful process to put the dark grey leggings on, the forest green tunic only took less time. With stiff limbs she gathered her belongings and went to meet Emilio. Adea had never imagined it could be so painful to walk down stairs. Of all the things in the world, this was what caused her the most trouble. Obviously it would not be a pleasant time when she had to get back on the horse. Hopefully a hot bath really would help. She found the assassin outside waiting with the horses. Dread settled in her stomach. She moved to gently pat the horse on the muzzle. Trying to delay the inevitable as long as she could, she never heard the assassin move closer to her, not until a soft voice spoke; "Need help to get up?"
Adea's heart jumped and she turned.
"Don't do that!" Slamming a hand over her chest to calm her thumping heart, she mentally pictured kicking the untactful man in his shin. She did not do it, of course. She had seen how he had killed with ease, and quite honestly, it scared her. He scared her. The way he carried himself, so balanced and composed, and that hood of his sure did nothing to lighten that feeling. She had never seen his eyes. All that was visible of his face was his chin. She had noticed the stubble on it the first time she saw him, but she never saw the scar, running parallel with his jawbone. It started under the right corner of his mouth, stretching past the lips and ending a centimeter away from the jaws.
Only now did she realize she had been staring. A smirk lurked in the visible part of his face and she felt like punching him all over again. Not wanting her pride to take a blow – not caring if it was going to hurt like Hell – she defiantly walked to the side of her mount and placed a foot in the stirrup. Biting back the grimace that was about to break out on her face, she hoisted herself on the horse's back.
"Are you going to stand there all day or are we going to get that bath?" she asked with fake confidence. The man gave her an uncanny smile and swung himself into the saddle. He spurred his hazelnut brown horse into a light trot and Adea could not do much else than follow. She made sure to stay behind Emilio so he could not see each time she made a face of pain.
The steaming water wrapped her body in divine bliss. A heavy sigh echoed on the stone walls. Steam swirled lazily in the air and Adea was mesmerized by the patterns. She felt her muscles relax in the hot liquid. She trailed her finger through the soft water and felt it tickle her palms. It seemed like no time passed before she was lightly tabbed on the shoulder by a young girl.
"Il est temps pour le massage" her high-pitched voice breaking Adea's silence. Grudgingly she pulled her body out of the water and accepted the towel from the younger female. The girls' feet patted on the marble floor as Adea was lead to another room. A large marble slap took up most of the adjacent room and the younger girl motioned for Adea to lie down on it. Adea did so and not long after a woman with a robust figure marched in. A sharp command was barked in French and the girl left the room quickly.
"Tout simplement se détendre," the woman said, her high voice itched in Adea's ears. The pitch did not seem to belong in her chubby body. Her meaty fingers started working on Adea's naked back. Slowly, but steadily loosening the knots in the girl's body. At first Adea was unable to relax any bit. The riding had done that to her, and if she had to be honest, the massage hurt. Nevertheless, as her tense muscles started to loosen, Adea could not help but enjoy it. At some point the little girl returned and patiently sat in the corner until the woman was done kneading Adea's back. Handing Adea a fresh towel, she steered her to yet another room. Hot mist filled the atmosphere and the air was moist and heavy.
"S'asseoir, s'asseoir," the girl said and patted a wooden bench placed along the wall. Other people were seated on benched of their own. All of them seemed oblivious to the world around them. Adea got the hint and placed herself on the surprisingly comfortable bench. Still leisured from the work on her body, it was easy for Adea to sink into the seat and let her skin soak up the steamy air. She briefly saw her little guide pour a liquid over a rock. It sizzled and more steam rose. Adea let her mind go blank and let the rest of the world fade.
A much more relaxed and ready Adea exited the bathhouse. Her body was fresh and clean, as well as her mind. Emilio waited outside, perched on an old crate of sorts. The horses were tied up not far from him. He jumped down as soon as he saw her and both of them went for the horses. With practiced ease Emilio untied the mounts and handed Adea the reigns of hers.
"Have you thought of a name for him?" the assassin asked.
"No, I haven't," Adea said. Honestly a few had crossed her mind, but none fit the beauty of her stallion. She wanted it to be good and fitting.
"Well, you do not have to decide now," Emilio said. Adea spared him a glance. Half hidden behind the horse between them, she could not read his body language.
"What's your horse called?" she asked instead of trying to figure out his mood and settled for giving her nameless horse a good rub on the muzzle.
"She is called Leale," he said from under the hood and tugged his horse after him, "it means Loyal One. I have had her since the beginning of my training."
"I want the name to represent a part of where I come from," Adea furrowed her eyebrows.
"Where is that then?" Emilio countered. Adea bit her lip. Was she ready to talk about her deceased family? She'd have to sooner or later, and now seemed like a time as good as any.
"My mother was born in England. I don't know much about her parents, but they didn't like that she married my father. He was Danish, and he traveled a lot," her gaze dropped to the ground, "to be honest, I don't think I knew him as well as I thought. I didn't even know he was an assassin."
She could feel her traveling companion's stare on her. It pained her to admit this. That she didn't know her own father wounded her more than she thought it would.
"My mum used to tell me stories when I was little. She'd tell me how the Vikings – big bulky men – feared nothing. Everyone was scared of them," she smiled, "and stories from Norse mythology. She'd sit by my bed at night and tell me how Odin sacrificed an eye to gain wisdom. And Thor riding across the sky in his chariot, causing the thunderstorms that I used to get scared of."
Silence fell between them. Adea took in her surroundings. The air smelled better than it had back in London, but she could still detect the stink of sweat. This was a rather nice district, she thought to herself. The cobbled street wasn't littered and every once in a while she saw young boys sweeping the street. The hum of foreign voices had withdrawn to the back of her mind during her slightly one-sided conversation with Emilio. Now she once again felt the full power of yelling Frenchmen.
It was a beautiful city, Calais, and she couldn't quite help herself from gaping at the buildings. Of course, London had its beauties, but after living there her entire life they had more or less lost their shine.
"Balder" Adea said all of a sudden.
"Sorry, what?" Emilio said, sounding rather confused.
"That's the name! I'll name my horse Balder," she replied with a smile. Even though she could not see his face, she was pretty sure he had no idea what she was talking about.
"Balder is the Norse god of beauty," she explained.
"Ahh, I see," Emilio mumbled, "that is a good name."
Adea patted the newly named horse on the neck. A cheerful whinny made her smile even wider.
"I think he likes it," she grinned, oblivious to the fact that Emilio was no longer listening. When she didn't get a response in any form, she looked up from her horse.
"Emilio?" she asked, concern creeping into er voice. Still not getting an answer she followed his apparent line of sight. A group of armed men a few hundred meters down the street caught Adea's attention and they were walking briskly in their general direction.
"Merda!" she heard Emilio say, and even though she did not know the language, she was pretty sure it wasn't a flattering word.
"This way. Quickly!" he said and moved to an alley and tugged his horse after him.
Adea cast the group of men another glance before she went after the assassin, "who are they?" she demanded.
"I may or may not have angered a certain influential person last time I was here," he said while looking over his shoulder. She could still see out the alley, and now she saw one of the men hold up a piece of paper, practically shoving it in the face of a poor old woman, who held up a shivering arm and pointed to the alleyway they had just disappeared into.
"Adea, come on!" Emilio hissed, yanking in Balder's rein. The men moved their heads in the showed direction, and then the alley took a turn and they were out of Adea's field of view.
"What do we do?" the young woman asked, panic making its way into her head, but she refused to let it take control and pushed it down.
"Hopefully we lose them. If not, we will have to fight," he said through clenched teeth. Adea gulped.
"And what about me? I don't even have a weapon," she couldn't resist taking another look back. The men had not yet passed the bend in the small street, but they could not be far behind.
"Here, take this," the assassin said and handed her a dagger; "you know how to use this? Pointy end go at them."
Adea nodded and was about to make a protest, but Emilio held up his hand.
"Stay out of it if you can," he bade, "I got you into this, I will get you safe to Rome."
She grabbed the dagger tighter. "Let's see if we can't lose them before we make any assumptions," she mumbled under her breath.
"How many did you count?" Emilio asked, either ignoring her comment or not hearing it.
"I saw six, but there's probably more," she replied quickly. She had seen him take out five men without breaking a sweat. Hopefully these weren't any better at fighting than the ones in London had been, but Adea had a grudging feeling they were.
"I counted eight," he said and another curse left his lips.
"You can take them, right?" dread settled in Adea's stomach like a rock when she didn't get an immediate answer.
"I should be able to, yes, but there was a Brute and he may complicate things."
"Is there anything I can do?" the young woman said, sounding a lot more brave than she currently felt.
"Leave the Brute to me. If you absolutely have to join the fight, attack from behind. Your ankle is still sprained, so you will not be quick enough to deal with the agile men." Emilio quickly scanned behind them, and Adea couldn't resist copying his motion.
The assassin looked back at her: "If you can, stay out of it in the beginning, use the moment of surprise. They will most likely not pay you much attention if you just keep that dagger hidden."
Adea nodded and held said dagger closer to her lower arm, so it wasn't as visible.
"In here," Emilio said and steered them through yet another alley. They rushed down the unusually twisting street. The horses felt their anxiety – mostly from Adea's side – and shook their heads in discomfort. Adea almost felt her heart stop; a dead end. It was a bit wider than the alley itself, but not by much.
"Bloody hell," Adea breathed. Emilio moved to a scaffold along the wall in the far end of the blind alley.
"We will tie the horses here," he said and started doing so, "I will climb up on the roof and get an advantage there. Just keep them talking a little while when they come. They are looking for me, remember?"
Adea nodded and tied Balder next to Leale; "Got it."
Emilio had just disappeared over the rooftop when their pursuers caught up with them. Adea clenched her jaw and stared at them.
"Où est l'assassin?" One man spoke.
"Uhh…" she said deciding to play dumb and smeared a sheepish grin on her face, "English?"
A sour look passed on all the men's faces.
"Where is l'assassin?" the same man said with a heavy French accent.
"Oh, you mean if I've seen an assassin?"
"Oui, oui" he said impatiently.
"I haven't seen any recently, no."
"Ach! Fille stupide…" he mumbled thinking Adea couldn't hear it. She may not understand French, but some of those words sounded an awful lot like English.
"Oi! Are you callin' me stupid?" she said, doing her best to sound offended, when in reality her heart was doing things hearts aren't supposed to do.
"You were seen with l'assassin not minutes ago," he accused her while stepping a little closer. Adea silently begged Emilio to hurry up. As if on cue, the infamous assassin jumped off the roof, both arms aiming for a target of their own.
Adea winched a tiny bit when she heard the hidden blades sink into the unfortunate men's flesh.
At first the man who had spoken didn't realize anything was wrong. Not until one of his friends yelped in surprise when he looked to his left to say something to the person, who was busy being stabbed by an assassin. The French men didn't spare Adea any second thoughts and all of them focused solely on Emilio. The apparent leader of the pack looked with disgust at the calm assassin, who had just killed three of his comrades.
"Tuez-le!" one screamed and all of them drew weapons. All, but Emilio. It was a few moments before anyone dared attack the silent Italian, but finally someone thought the wait too unbearable. With a silent war cry he stepped toward the assassin with raised sword. He brought it down in a deadly arch of steel, expecting to cleave the unarmed man in half, only to meet no resistance at all. He stumbled forward and felt a strong hand guide his head into a solid wall. A sickening crushing sound echoed in the dead end. The bold French slumped to the ground. His countrymen just stared at him, not sure whether to think him dead or not. After a few seconds, the lack of a rising chest made up their mind.
One of the men carried a spear and thrusted said weapon forward, aiming for the still unarmed assassin's stomach. Emilio simply took a step to the side, griped the spear and twisted it out of the owner's hands. In one fluid motion he flipped the spear and rammed it through the dumbfounded man's neck. Yanking it back out he moved to parry the Brute's incoming blow. The spear's wooden shaft snapped like a twig under the heavy weapon's weight, but that didn't stop Emilio. He jammed the lover half of the broken spear in through the gap between the helmet and the neck piece, sticking it solidly in soft flesh. The half with the spearhead was forced into the Brute's lower ribcage.
With only two Frenchmen left, Emilio drew his sword just in time to block a blow. The sound of steel against steel clawed in Adea's ears and she involuntarily tightened her grip on the dagger. Emilio didn't seem to be tiring, fighting like he did, but she still felt useless. She wanted to help him, like he had helped her. Moving as silently as she could with a sprained ankle, she inched closer to the man who had called her stupid. He didn't hear a thing – he was too focused on looking for gaps in Emilio's defense. Just as said assassin finished off the other man and turned around to end the life of the leader, he saw the latter fall to his knees, throat slit.
Behind the dead man stood Adea bloodied dagger firmly in her grip and a fierce look in her eyes.
A/N: Originally I planned to get them to Rome, but eh, things got in the way :) Next chapter contains Ezio, promise. I hope you liked it, in case you did; feel free to review, like, favorite and whatnot :)
-Selene