Damiel fumed in his mind over Maria's lover. What kind of man would make love to his woman and then leave her for a year, never sending word of how he's doing? It made no sense to Damiel. It made no sense to him how Maria could still love such a monster. Monsters such as him shouldn't even be allowed to make love. No, they should do what their kind does best: stay hidden in a dark corner.
'What man does that to begin with? Does the bastard not have honor?'
Though the boy remained miffed with that terrible Assassin, Damiel could not help to be annoyed with Maria. For nine months, she had been acting very strong around Benjamin, Hildegard, and himself, but that was only when she was in public. Come night time, when she would go to bed alone, he would hear her staggered breathing and cries of solitude. For the other three months that made up the year, she made it visibly clear to her friends that she was suffering from his absence.
It was not his place to tell her to leave the past behind and look to the future, though. She had been, after all, Robert's second in command, and he just a low soldier that she found talent in. How she had ever seen such potential in a slaveboy, he would never know. But he was glad. Because of her open heart and creative mind, he had been allowed to dine with superiors once in a while, and Hell, their food was so much better than a sacrificial soldier's.
But he couldn't mask his worry for her with his usual bluntness and expectant attitude. Since she had taken him under her wing in the Crusades, she had been like an older sister to him, and it was only natural for a little brother to be worried about his family in their time of need. Maria used to be so strong and had a sharp tongue. True, she was still strong physically, but he was afraid that her will had died over the year. He barely saw her the last three weeks because she found more comfort from the walls confining her inside of her room instead of her friends willing to hold her and heal her wounds.
He made up his mind: he hated that man. He hated him with his whole being. He wanted to chop him up into tiny, chewable pieces so that he could spit him over a cliff.
'One day, you heartless scum, you'll pay dearly for what you did to her. Mark my words, if I must be the one to deliver the punishment, I will.'
The nine and ten year old boy walked idly in the busy markets of London. The streets were lined with such architecture different than that of Syria. It resembled that dull and gloomy city, Acre, fairly well. Though, London wasn't literally falling to pieces.
He overheard dull conversations of merchants trying to bribe their customers with their seductive prices to purchase their wares, the sound of their desperate voices causing him to frown in disapproval. He carried on his stroll, a face of stone plastered onto him as shopkeepers waved him over to their stalls, ushering him to buy one of their goods. 'Try selling something useful, and maybe you'd get a customer..'
He continued to walk until a scuffling sound caught his attention. The footsteps retreated when he stopped still in his tracks and made his way casually to a stall, feigning interest in a trinket. The footsteps gathered themselves up in a smoother strut. Damiel appeared to be listening to a merchant ramble on about the item he held in his hand, but paid more attention to whoever was putting so much effort into following him.
Barely turning his head to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of his pursuer, he managed to make out a man clothed in armor with a-
'Lord of all cow droppings and flies!' Putting the item back on the counter, he shook his head at the merchant, making it clear he was no longer 'interested'. Turning away from the stall, he made his way quickly through the crowd without fully breaking into a run. The other man kept up with him nicely. Damiel knew that he could not stay. If he did, a fight would be in order and he doubted the people would be such kind spectators to keep their babbling mouths quiet. He looked on ahead, noticing that the busy swarm of consumers thinning out further on. Cursing under his breath, he broke out of the partial safety of the mob surrounding him and leapt out into a sprint away from the man.
How did the Templar find him?
Deep under the structure of St. John's Chapel, the work of evil was brewing with each passing minute. Common knowledge taught men that power cannot be destroyed; it is only passed down from one form of leadership to another. Thus saying, when Altair killed the nine Templar's that Al Mualim had commanded him to, life was destroyed, though not the awesome energy that cycled on and on.
Nine Templars had taken the place of those that have fallen before them. Nine more threats to the world, and after them, nine more would rise and take action. The work of an Assassin was never done in times like those.
Out of the nine new members of the Templar faction, only five were present, the others tending to other matters. The meeting had called for all of them to be there, but of course, something far more important just had to interfere with their plans. Under the church, secret tunnels had been constructed by forefathers of the Templar's. The tunnels lead to chambers suitable for living, dining, and conversing. It was as if it was an underground fortress- one that they would keep secret if it meant their lives taken from them.
The men were seated at a large wooden table that was a rectangular shape with a large cross bordered with carved vines closing around it in the middle of the table. Each member present had either a look of disgust, disappointment, or a blank expression worn on their faces. Who could blame them, though? Their topic of conversation was not something they would like to remember. After all, a traitor was not something common amongst the Templar's.
"This cannot go on further. First, she turns her back on Robert and tells the Assassin exactly where he's going and what his plans were." A man with fair hair said, smooth and manicured hands placed neatly, if not arrogantly, in his lap.
"Then, she runs off to Limassol with him," another said with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, nearly compressing himself together with the force. He was a rather grumpy man to begin with.
"Next, she ends up killing one of our own." Yet again, a different Templar voiced his opinion with fidgety eyes darting around the room, looking at his allies.
"And to surprise us even further, she ends up becoming the Assassin's whore." A grim expression was etched into this Templar's face. He was not overly fond of Assassins, but yet he did not force himself to hate them as the others did. They were men, just like them, who had a belief in something. However, he was disappointed in Maria, a woman who had shown so much promise to the Templar's cause, because she had betrayed them.
Grunting, a man with obvious authority rose from his seat and folded his hands neatly behind his back. They all knew the treachery she had done to each of them. They all knew the summary, why say it again? "If you four are finished," a husky sound escaped from his lips, "then I suggest we decide what to do with her, not contemplate on everything she has done."
The men looked at each other nervously. They did not want to anger their commander any further; he was not a man to be trifled with. He was as unpredictable as a cornered wolf.
The light haired Templar spoke up first in a hushed voice. "Perhaps we could persuade her to become one of us again.."
Disagreeing, another man spat at him, "Oh, really? Just so that she can cause further harm to our organization? In case you have forgotten, Clarence, we're trying to be rid of her, not gain her back."
The man by the name of Clarence looked dully at the other. Such ignorance.. "Your ears only hear, not listen, Brother." He stood from the table, running his hand along the edge while he walked the perimeter of it. " We all know the corruption she had brought us. We all know how much we had suffered. But, suggest the tables would turn."
Gaining the attention of all others present, he smiled thinly and continued on. "She has much wealth due to her father, and much authority, to say the least. She has assisted in commanding armies, she knows how to plan strategies, and she knows how to play the innocent housewife when need be. Say she were to join us again-"
"Where are you going with this, Clarence? Are you saying that if she were to rejoin us, we'd benefit from it?" The leader frowned at Clarence, the venomous look unnerving the fair haired man slightly.
"My Lord, I am saying that yes, we can benefit from her. True, it would be difficult getting her back, but if we did..." Taking a deep breath, almost foreseeing the arguments that would erupt from his words, he carefully said, "Then she could easily infiltrate Masyaf, as she has connections with the Assassin's, especially the one that slaughtered Robert, and gain information for us."
The others looked at him shocked. The thought had occurred to them before, but they never had the nerve to voice it. But then again, it was Clarence, a rather straight-forward member. He was always boisterous and outspoken—always so talented at talking his way out of death.
Clearing his throat, the superior motioned for the man to sit back down. Clarence smiled gracefully and did as ordered. The leader paced back and forth across the width of the table, the others looking down at their laps in deep thought. He scratched his chin and rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to respond to the other's words.
After several moments, he finally questioned him. "And... how do you propose we accomplish this?" The others looked at their leader as if he were mad. What was he thinking?
Smiling from his achievement, Clarence continued on, "I know it seems rash and disturbing, but.." He again thought his words out with much care. "... My father and hers had a mutual friendship back in the day. It would be easy to.. ahh.. take advantage of that friendship."
"What are you saying?" The fidgety Templar looked at Clarence with terrified eyes.
"I'm saying we're to be wed, of course." He leisurely took a sip from his goblet of wine. "It would look very natural to citizens of London, would it not? Everyone knows how much my father wanted me to be her man, and likewise with her father." Looking at the leader, who showed a look of encouragement on his face, Clarence smiled further and looked eagerly at the other men, his excitement showing clearly. "With her at my side, I can easily keep a tight leash on the bitch and make sure she was never to betray us again. With our wealth combined, we can train more soldiers, purchase more horses, expand our territory, and thus, wipe out the Assassin's. Furthermore-"
Raising his hand to silence his ally, the superior closed his eyes and thought out his strategy. Marry her? Inherit her money? Inherit her power? The idea caused a sly grin to creep up on his lips. He liked the plan. "Please, continue."
Sighing from relief, he pressed on. "Furthermore, her actions of treachery can be punished daily, if need be." He stood up abruptly from his seat, the smile escaping from his mouth and a rock hard expression gazed at each man seated. "That way, each of your morbid desires would be satisfied with her punishment and we would become the most powerful group of people in this world. And even in the next, perhaps," he mused.
His words had a stunning effect on others present. They looked thoughtfully at each other, at their leader, and then at Clarence.
The unhappy and grumpy Templar spoke up first from their temporary petrification. "And of the Assassin? Maria was his whore. What if he-"
"If she was a whore, Earl, then she means nothing to him, as do all women who find a living off of selling their flesh. The man probably has a woman in every city waiting for his touch." Clarence laughed at the thought, shaking his head from the ill-spirited Templar, Earl.
"How do we know if he won't pursue us? What if she was his favorite?" The timid one looked at Clarence with eyes bulging out of his head. The man was terrified of the Assassins, but he knew how to hold his own in combat, surprisingly. Although, he did not like battle. He was a negotiator, and sometimes a coward.
"A man who inserts his shaft inside a bitch's secret cavern without the smallest trace of love behind his actions harvests no thoughts of such things, Tyler." The leader said quietly to his comrade, nodding his head at Clarence. "How do you propose we separate her from her allies? After all, she has the Rose surrounding her at all times, protecting her from us."
Chewing the inside of his lip, Clarence thought over it. Was it really so hard to catch them off guard? Sighing, he shook his head. "I propose-" the sudden knocking of wood interrupted him from finishing his thought. All five men turned their head simultaneously at the robed figure at the entrance to their meeting room.
A high pitched, terrified voice sounded from the man. "Ah.. M-Master Clarence? If I may.."
Making his way toward his squire, he exited the meeting room. Waiting several moments before continuing on, the other four templars burst out with arguments.
"Maria is not an easy woman, My Lord! It is IMPOSSIBLE to capture her!"
"The Assassin will come for her, I assure you! Not yet do I have a wife, but I know passion when I see it!"
"Clarence only wants an easy target! The man's been driven mad with his lust for revenge—"
"SILENCE!" The leader threw his hands down on the table and shook his head at each man. "His plan is not well thought-out, obviously. But do any of you have any better suggestions?" When the room turned silent, he hissed, "No? Well, then we just need to figure out a way to find-"
Walking back into the meeting room with a smirk on, Clarence said charmingly to his comrades, "My apologies, friends. It seems that something has popped up, which acquires my full attention. Please, excuse me, we will have to finish this discussion later." He gave a small bow to the others who frowned at him suspiciously, and then turned his back on them, leaving the room, followed by a shaking squire.
Earl growled and shook his head, once again compressing himself with his arms folded tightly across his chest. "Now that that charming subject is gone, I propose we discuss the Piece of Eden."
All the men looked nervously down at their laps again, including the leader. They knew their failure: they had lost the Piece to an Assassin.
"I belive Maria has it.." Tyler, the nervous one, said with a quivering voice. The others looked at him with complex expressions, pondering his words.
Without thinking, Earl snorted. "Don't tell me you too are indulged in having this woman?"
Gawking at him, clearly appalled, Tyler defended his dignity. "For you to say such a thing, my dear Earl, may seem that you want her all to yourself. True, I am not seeing anyone, but at least I know a woman from a whore."
The unhappy Templar glared at him with daggers as eyes. He was about to speak until the leader finally asserted his authority.
"Enough. If Maria has it, we will leave it to Clarence to find it. If she doesn't. we shall leave him to persuade the information out of her."
"Persuade her..? How?" The other Templar who had a clear thought of Assassin's asked.
Earl laughed, his voice booming across the table and off the walls. "She is to be his wife, Christopher! It'd be simple for him: tie her, strip her, and claim her repetitively. I very much doubt that traitor would enjoy having her pride be taken so easily by a man. Though, she probably wouldn't be allowed to resist to moan..."
The others, except for Christopher, chuckled at his words. Earl was always irrational.
Christopher said with clenched teeth, "You forget who we are dealing with. She is like a hellcat, Earl. She's strong, she's smart, and she knows Templar's. For you to make it seem like she's your every day woman is insulting. It is insulting to know that we Templar's put so little consideration into other people. I'm not saying I don't think Clarence can handle himself," he added when the others eyed him accusingly. "I'm saying that although Clarence is tough and like a brute when in combat, she is still very sneaky and lithe. Furthermore, let us not underestimate the Rose for once. Damiel, Benjamin, and Hildegard are not to be messed with, clearly. Damiel's Riva, Benjamin's Dynamo, and Hildegard's Panthers are weapons that should not be crossed with our blades. They may like us to believe that they're common folk, but they are killers. All three of them are former Templar's, don't forget that. Also keep in mind that we don't even know the Rose's headquarters. You four make it seem so easy to capture Maria, when it is near impossible!
"To add more, let us think of the consequences of capturing Maria. The Rose would be onto us within moments and fight to the death for her. Do we want to deal with the stress and suspicion that would give us? Do we really want to fight those three? No, we do not. Also think of Maria's skills with swords. Her Ebony and Ivory would slice through our flesh like a knife through butter. And, My Lord, you must think if the Assassin does feel for her. It may not be love that a man has for his woman, but she could still be precious to their own Cause.
"He is a man; she a woman. They shared much in common while on their adventures, physically and emotionally. I believe that yes, the Assassin will come for her. To conclude my reasons why we shouldn't pursue Maria, consider that she doesn't have the Piece of Eden. What if it is a trap? What if the Assassin's want us to believe that she has it so that our attention is diverted to the Rose, hmm? What if the Rose and Assassin's are in league with each other and have all of this planned out, and we are their pawns in the game? I'm disgusted to know that you men cannot seem to grasp this situation."
Everyone stared at the table. They were embarrassed that such thoughts didn't cross their minds, yet they were proud of Christopher for seeing different perspectives on the matter.
Finally, Earl broke the silence with his rude voice. "Paranoid bastard. You'll lead us to disaster."
Christopher breathed in heavily and clenched his fist from the man's words. "We shall see."
Morning's light filtered its way through Altair's bedroom. He was still asleep, the sunlight sprinkling its rays across his skin. Never before had a morning felt this beautiful to him- it was beautiful because she was there with him in Masyaf. Masyaf.. the town was a dull color with some patches of vibrancy here and there. The sand that was swept from deserts always arrived in his town, causing many of the buildings to be weathered away and lose their sparks of interest. But no matter how bland it seemed, Altair still loved this place. He loved every rare blade of grass, he loved the sand that was unwillingly blown here, and he loved the people.
They were not like the other citizens in the other cities. These men and women knew responsibility and most knew how to defend themselves. He supposed that was because of the Assassin's that had taken residence there, but one could never be too sure about these things.
He stirred slightly from his sleep, eyes slowly opening to the sunshine. Stretching his legs and limbs out, he breathed the sweet air in around him. It was spring time, and the flowers were releasing their pollen across the land, changing the scent of the air in the process. He loved spring time. Although it seemed feminine for a man to say that, he truly loved it. He loved it because he believed spring was the climax of the year: the animals were waking up from their deep sleep, flowers were blooming, and people had a cheerful spring in their step. Spring was when life reached its peak. and all organisms were alive and animated. Even nonliving things. such as the wind and sun. seemed to possess a strange joy that one could not explain through words.
Sighing from his legs and arms being stretched out, he turned his head over to the peaceful form sleeping beside him. She lied on her back, head turned toward him, still in the embrace of sleep. Her chest rose up and down in a steady pattern, hair covering her breasts. He smiled from the sight of her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even with faint battle scars on her body.
He loved the way her body was formed. It had a stunning hourglass shape to it- not too skinny and not fleshy, just the way he liked it. Her waist was slender, yet there was a faint trace of toned abdominal muscles protruding from her skin. It wasn't like a man's muscles, but yet it wasn't scrawny like a six year old's. It was perfect. From her waist came her hips which filled out more. They had a wickedly seducing curve to them that lead to her legs. Maria wasn't exactly tall, but she wasn't exactly short either. She was around six or seven inches shorter than he was. He loved that distance, though. He loved how she would have to stand on her toes to reach his lips during a kiss and how he would have to lean forward to her.
They both had to play their part in their relationship.
"Maria," he whispered her name softly, a gentle smile playing at his lips. She stirred from her slumber, but her eyes did not open to him. Reaching a hand over to her shoulder to bring her closer to him, he called her name again. Still, no reply.
When he touched her skin, everything seemed to vanish. The walls came crumbling down, the morning light disappearing, and Maria disappearing. He was left alone in the dark.
Moaning, Altair woke up from his dream the moment he had 'touched' her. His eyes darted to the side of him. He sighed in disappointment when there was no one next to him. He was alone, and suffering alone. He stared up at his ceiling, fuming in his mind over how foolish he had been to think that she was sleeping naked next to him. Maybe he did need to get out of this fortress.
Across from the bed, a life-form looked at his companion with large, brown eyes. He removed himself from the lush rug he slept on and rose on all four legs over to the upset man's bed. There, he placed two legs at the foot of the bed and stared confusingly at Altair.
The Assassin looked at the dog and sighed. He was just yet another reminder of his responsibilities. The canine, Bayo*, once belonged to Maria. He was her 'war dog', as she had put it. The Greyhound-Whippet was beautiful and had bright white fur with beige spots. He lolled his tongue out as he climbed onto the bed and licked Altair's cheek and whined. Sighing once again, he scratched the dog behind his ears and hoisted himself out of bed.
Bayo had followed Altair home the night he had spent with Maria. It was as if the dog knew the two of them wanted privacy. He was waiting outside of the fortress the two had occupied that evening, lying down on the stone floor relaxing. Altair tried to shoo the dog away and even kicked it, but it stayed by his side and only looked at him with a sad look in his eyes. The dog knew that Maria was going to leave for England in a few days, but Altair had no idea. Thus, her quick departure from Acre had disheartened and saddened him.
He whined again and nuzzled the now clothed man's leg. It was morning, and he was hungry. Not that Altair would feed him, no- he had neglected Bayo for almost two months now. But that never dampened his spirits. He knew his new master had stress to deal with due to Maria's absence, and he knew all the responsibilities placed on his shoulders taxed him. Bayo just wanted a little attention now and then, something that Altair could not succeed at, but something Malik was quite good at giving him.
Malik was fascinated by the dog. He had never seen such a slender and tall canine before in his life, and especially one not the same colors as Bayo. Malik felt that the dog was a big help for him. Since he only had one arm, sometimes every day tasks like opening a door could prove difficult to the man, so he relied on the help from his furry friend. Bayo was happy to be of assistance. The days of battle were long gone for the six year old Greyhound-Whippet now that he was not an acknowledged member of the Crusades.
Altair looked sympathetically at the dog and shook his head slightly. It had been forever since he had taken care of him, and he couldn't remember what the dog ate. "I'm sorry, boy.."
"Ahh, so the great Master finally awakens! How was your beauty sleep?" Malik said as he entered the room looking quite amused with what he was seeing. Bayo, recognizing the man, barked happily and ran cheerfully at Malik's side and nudged his hand with his nose. Malik pet the dog and once again, that look of admiration and astonishment was plastered on his face.
Frowning, Altair replied, "It was fine. Malik, can you-"
"Don't worry, Brother. I'll handle the mut." Clicking his tongue to gain the dog's attention again, he walked out of the room, laughing as the dog chased ran ahead of him and startled some of the guards further on. With the dog's distraction out of the way, Altair made his way to his study. With Maria out of his head, it was time once again to be the Leader. Sitting down and gathering his quill, ink, and paper, he began to write a message to one of the guards. Without any commotion from the Templar's lately, he was worried. He wanted the perimeter of Masyaf scouted and now. Finishing his plans, he called for a guard.
"Take this note and deliver it to the guards in the barracks. They'll know what to do." Accepting the command, the guard hurried off to the others to tell them the news.
The Assassin sighed. It was always write a letter then give it to someone else to pass it along. He missed when he still bore the white hood instead of the black. He was truly honored that he was selected to be the Grandmaster of the Hashashin, but he could never help but to feel that thorn occasionally digging in his side.
Altair began looking through the notes and letters he had sprawled over his desk. He clicked his tongue together with how unorganized everything was. He'd have to start sorting things properly, else he'd have to hear another berating speech from Malik. Putting away his writing utensils, he began leafing through the papers and placing them in separate stacks. The Assassin was terribly bored until something caught his eye. Something unusual. Underneath the heap of papers was a scroll tied shut with a vine with rose petals attached to it. Frowning, he examined the letter.
His breath caught in his throat, the seal on the scroll having stars dance across his vision.
He couldn't believe it.
The letter was from London, England.