Heeeeeeeere is part 1 of chapter ten... Been working on this, mainly been fussing over the Altair and Hildegard scene. I failed miserably in my previous chapter, portraying Altair as some ninny pathetic little goat, as Maria would say. I tried to fix it, I did. I know it isn't perfect yet and isn't what my readers were looking for, but I tried. Thanks to my reviewers and also to Fate Likes Fools for offering some suggestions.
Editors are outta town, so cheers to me for editting. Woo.
All original characters belong to Ubisoft, everyone else is officially stamped as PWOPERTY! by the Era-Age. Got it, get it, doubt it, got it.
Review, tell me what needs improving! I love criticism! I bathe in it! Don't leave me smelly, people!
...And can you say... REUNION... in next part...?
Oh, and one of my editors, wants me to say this to all of my readers. Please, forgive me for this, but she demands it o.o;
Meadjean would like to say: DAMIEL IS MINE, BITCHESSSSS!
"Whoa," Maria said in a low voice to the horse. She jerked the reins back when the beast refused to listen. Unwillingly, it came to a stop and snorted in annoyance. She rolled her eyes but turned her attention to the sleeping boy in front of her.
Five days had past since they had witnessed their friends being taken hostage by Templars. They had spent their nights either setting up camp or at a small community, while their mornings were spent riding. They hadn't said much during their travels, but Maria had no complaints. She was either sleeping while he had the reins, or while he was sleeping and vice versa, she'd be too busy lost in the depths of her mind. It seemed too much for her- too rushed, too fast...
She was only meant to assist her friends in finding Hildegard and escape the clutches of Clarence at the wedding. It was never supposed to go this far- the Rose was not meant to be kidnapped. Of course, everything just had to not go according to plan.
'What was that phrase that Benjamin used to say to me? Ahh, what was it... Even the smallest of holes can sink the greatest of ships? Was that it? Oh, Maria, not only are you worried over friends, but now you're in turmoil with yourself.' The woman sighed and was about to shake Damiel's arm when she heard him mumble something under his breath. She frowned, and leaned closer to him to make out what he was saying.
"Ngh... y-yeah... you know I... course I..." She raised an eyebrow and blinked in confusion. What the Devil?
Damiel shifted in his sleep and a soft smile appeared on his lips. "Mhm... course I... course I like... like it... ngh..." He pouted his lips and shriveled his face up. Maria breathed in deeply and resisted the urge to punch him off of the horse and to ride away without him. "Don't... don't stop... I- I like that..." Maria rolled her eyes and pinched her brow with her thumb and index finger.
'If that fool says one more word...'
"Woh, baby... I like them big-"
"Damiel! Wake up!" She shoved his shoulder and smacked his cheek. "Come on, sleeping hormones, nap time's over." She smirked when she saw him open one eye to glare at her. She shrugged innocently when the other eye flung open and he frowned. "Pardon me if I don't like hearing your mumbling."
He huffed and flexed his shoulders, cracking his back while he did so. "I was having a good dream," he looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at her, "until someone had to ruin it for me..."
"Don't give me that accusing tone, Damiel. Besides, we're about to enter a town."
His ears immediately perked up from this. "Ahh, magnífico!" He grinned happily and his eyes took on a dreamy look as he continued, "I can use a bath, some food, a bed, a couple of girls- ow!"
She cracked her knuckles and glared at him. "We'll get you a bath. And food. And maybe a bed, but absolutely no girls."
Damiel gave her an impish smirk. "Why, you jealous?"
"Don't even start that with me, I'm in no mood, Damiel," she sighed. His smirk turned into a concerned grin and he hopped off the horse, snatched the reins from Maria, and began leading the animal. Maria humphed and crossed her arms in the saddle. "I'm perfectly capable of riding my own horse, thank you," she snarled at him. He merely chuckled and waved her quiet with his hand.
"I know, I know, just stretching the legs out is all." He jogged happily while leading the horse. "Hey, Ria?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. She grunted and tilted her head to the side. "You're not worried about the others, are you?"
She sighed and the corners of her mouth turned downwards. "I suppose that means you aren't worried?"
"Don't worry about them, then. They can take care of themselves-"
"Did you see the condition Aden was in?" Maria sharply inhaled and closed her eyes. "Damiel, I don't think the situation should be taken lightly. Anything can happen to them- Aden was basically the muscle of that trio. Olivia... she's effective if she has distance between her and her targets and if she even has her bow and arrows. And, well, for Zaina, I wouldn't count on that girl for even dumping her own chamberpot. So, Damiel, to put it simply, they're in grave danger. And on top of that, we have no idea where Benjamin is."
"What about Belle?"
She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I'm not worried about the dog, Damiel. She may not be the best that I've ever trained, but I doubt the Templars are going to rip the entire Holy Land up just to find a hound that can't even listen to the basic 'stay' command. My concern is with the people of our Order."
"Then why are we not helping them?"
"Because our mission is to reach Acre. We cannot rescue them on our own. If we find our allies, then, maybe..." her voice trailed off as she bit her lower lip. "Maybe we have a chance at saving them. But we will never know unless we reach Acre."
He sighed, but kept his mouth shut.
Five days. Five blasted days! She had refused to speak to that man concerning her friend and purpose of her visit. She had snuck out of her room, visited the baths, and accepted the food that the other Assassins had sent up to her room. More than once, that one-armed man had knocked on her door and had requested her audience with the Master of Assassins. And more than once, Hildegard had refused his offer. For the past four days, she had difficulty staying calm and controlling her anger. Her pillow had suffered the consequences for that. It was shredded, the feathers stuffing it littering the floor and sheets. Not that she cared, though. There were servants for a reason, after all.
Hildegard sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her now clean tunic and her fresh britches were stuffed into her boots. Normally, she'd have dressed a bit nicer for a meeting, but not only did she not have her clothes with her since her satchel was stolen, she honestly didn't care what that man thought of her. She only had to tell him what an ass he was for leaving Maria, tell him about the Rose, and discuss the wedding with him. Oh, she very much wanted to see his reaction to that so that she could sneer at him and mock him further.
She looked forward to the meeting.
Swinging her door open, she descended the flight of stairs to confront that bastard Altair and speak with him in a civilized, controlled, polite, and ladylike manner. 'Best put the mask on now, Hildegard, before it's too late.'
The two Assassins rummaged through the papers scattered across the table in the library, filling out what needed to be done and separating the sheets into different piles. Malik, who was handing Altair another stack of papers, frowned when he took note of how red the man's eyes were. "Sleep isn't a friend of yours, is it, Altair?"
He grunted and took the papers from him, his quill immediately attacking the parchment and writing down orders. "Hasn't come for the last four days. The Apple... it's... it's been very generous lately."
Malik sighed and turned his attention back to the papers. "Should I ask why you resort to being addicted to that artifact, or do I already know?" He muttered underneath his breath how disorganized everything was and began to tidy the papers up.
He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "You know why, Brother."
"Is Maria really that important to you?" Malik placed the papers back on the desk and gave him a serious stare. "I want the truth, Altair. Why do you care about that woman so much?"
Altair closed his eyes and slowly opened them to return his friend's gaze. "It's... complicated, Malik... She is-"
"Oh, please, do tell, do tell.." Both men swiveled their heads around to stare at the intruder. However, they immediately frowned, and Malik even gawked when they saw the blonde woman casually making her way over to their table and helping herself to a seat across from the two of them. Her hair flowed down the length of her neck in curls, stopping just past her breasts. She smiled sweetly at them, her elegant face holding a remarkable beauty to it. If only they knew the anger hidden behind the pretty face.
By Allah, was this a divine being sent down from the Heavens?
However, Altair sighed when he recognized it to be the bold woman known as Hildegard that had insulted him four days previous when he scanned the clothes she was wearing. She looked significantly different. When they had first spoken- or rather, accused- with each other, she had dirt covering her entire figure. Her hair was a disgusting greasy, almost light brown mess. But now, this woman sitting right in front of him resembled that of an angel.
Altair glanced at Malik and frowned when the man was still slightly stunned from her appearance. He bit the inside of his mouth in annoyance and kicked him from underneath the table. Recovering from his trance, he stuttered, "I take it you have finally recovered enough of your senses to speak appropriately to the Master?"
"Yes, I have, thank you," she said in the most beautiful and sing-song voice the two had ever heard. Altair, however, was not impressed with her beauty nor her speech. There was already a woman in his life that he thought to be a goddess. "Please, forgive me for my behavior when we first met. I... I was a bit out of my spirits."
Malik slowly nodded his head and gave her a dubious look. "Right... a 'bit'..." He cleared his throat and continued, "now then, shall we speak of why you are here?"
"Alone, Malik. We shall speak alone of why she is here." Altair looked at his friend and the two nodded at each other before the one-armed man reluctantly left the library. He very much wanted to hear what other sort of language came out of the woman's mouth, but orders were orders. Once he had heard the door click shut, he resumed his conversation with the woman. He stared her down, aware that he was not wearing his hood. His features were hard, his face holding emotion that of a rock. He felt inner pride and satisfaction when the woman glanced nervously around the room. Excellent. She now knows her place when in front of the Master of Hashashins. He took a deep breath, erasing his sudden satisfaction. "So, tell me, Hildegard," his accent flowed off of each word, creating an atmosphere of insecurity around the woman, "tell me: how is it that you, a woman that has so very few manners, knows Maria?"
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and looked him straight in the eyes. She ignored his insult. She knew that he was trying to get her riled up and at his throat- probably so that he can see the fear in her eyes as his blade entered her own neck. She would most certainly not give him that satisfaction. Although his expression was menacing, she was somewhat glad that he was not wearing his hood. When he was wearing the garment, it was as if he had something to hide. She had thought him hiding his own hideous face, but the man before her was anything but hideous. A strong jaw, deep hazel eyes, tanned skin, rich hair the color of chocolate, high cheek bones- he reeked of masculinity. Not only that, but he was incredibly attractive. It wasn't the same features that Aden had- that man was extremely handsome. But, rather, it was unique and exotic, definitely not something common in England. Figures Maria would choose an absolutely beautiful yet lethal man to couple with.
"We've known each other for years, now. We both met during the Crusades," she said flatly. She was completely aware that he was watching her every move, her every breath. If he was trying to unnerve her, he utterly succeeded. The woman did her best to not show her discomfort.
He nodded and continued, his voice emotionless and husky with his hands folded underneath his chin. To one looking in on the conversation, it would have seemed like a normal and simple gesture. Though, Hildegard saw that gleam in his eyes- that look of domination. How dare he try to degrade her in such a way by appearing to be bored and not interested in what she had to say! "So you are her acquaintance-"
"Best friend," she interrupted, smiling with a hint of pride. "We are best friends- should I call you 'Master' like your kind, or by your name?"
"My name would be preferred, Hildegard." He cleared his throat and slightly narrowed his eyes at her. "Maria is no longer one with the Templars. How am I to know that you are not, as your letter claims, a Templar?"
"It is... difficult... describing the matter," she sighed and bit her lip, pretending to be in thought, "I was once a Templar, yes. I served Sibrand since he took me under his wing, but that came to an end when you dispatched of him. I do not hold anything against you," she added in quickly when he raised an eyebrow at her. "He was losing his mind slowly during the entire events that dealt with the nine Templars choking the Holy Land. He... he became obsessed with his own fear even before your blade met the first man's neck. But, anyways, I am now part of the faction known as the Order of the Rose, as I've told you.
We are not Templars, yet we are not Assassins. We despise Templars, yes, but we do not fully understand the Assassins to call ourselves 'friend' to them. Every member was once a former Templar, as I've written to you. There are seven of us in total: four women and three men. The women consist of myself, Maria, a German archer named Olivia, and an Arabic young lady called Zaina. The men are the following: a brute of a man known as Aden, a very respectable war veteran that is a fatherly figure to Maria known as Benjamin, and a soon-to-be man that has yet to mature and refrain from being an idiot called Damiel- he is also a good friend of Maria's and also to myself. Are you satisfied with the information I've given?"
His eyes were closed the entire time while he absorbed the knowledge. She seemed confident enough with her answer, but it could always be a trap. Opening his eyes once more, he replied emotionlessly, "And do you have proof that you are indeed affiliated with these people you've listed?"
She breathed out and stared hard at her lap. "I did have proof, but as I've said, my belongings were stolen-"
"A fine excuse, then-"
"But I can describe the proof I had," she frowned at him and lowered her voice. He blinked and tilted his head, waiting for an answer. Fine, fool, keep that disturbing and impolite expression on your face. I'll give you a reason to be impressed. "It was a piece of paper that had a drawing of a woman we both know, Altair." Recognition flashed in his eyes, and Hildegard smiled from winning her little battle. "She was not looking straight ahead, but rather off to the distance, as if the illustrator was drawing her without her knowing. She wore a hood," Hildegard's hands trailed to her head while her eyes were looking up, trying to remember what she had seen, "and a cloak, and had the Templar emblem on her tunic," her hand trailed down to her chest, and then back to her side. "There was an oval surrounding the picture with roses drawn into it. I think we both know the artist behind the parchment, Altair."
"And you lost this?" His voice was colder and his eyes narrowed.
"It was more like it was stolen from me."
"I see," he breathed out and rubbed his forehead. "It was once part of a collection of sorts that I had-"
"Yes, I'm familiar with it. It was scraps of paper stitched into a leather-bound booklet, correct?" He nodded slowly. "Whenever I would visit Maria, she'd often be flipping through the few pages. I tore the picture out of the book. Please forgive me for destroying your property." Her voice was sweet, yet her face held the devil's smirk on her lips.
He shook his head and changed the topic. "If this 'Order of the Rose' is not comfortable with the beliefs of Templars, but yet does not have the same beliefs as Assassins, then what are your beliefs?"
"Our beliefs?" She bit her lip and looked side to side, her smirk disappearing. "Well, we certainly do not believe that world domination is a way to create peace, that is for sure. We believe that men and women should have their own free will and learn to appreciate each other and live in harmony and not by force, I guess you can say."
"You are saying you do not know?" He held an amused expression on his face from her answer not being entirely confident. And so the bitch finally slips..
"We aren't exactly an orthodox faction that has its rules written out and stamped, Altair. In fact, I suppose it is safe to say we are extremely unorganized. Not all of us get along with each other, yet we cope. The only thing that binds us is the fact that we despise Templars."
'A very weak organization, then. If need be, the Assassins can put it to rest. However...' He brought his hands down from his chin and rested them on his lap. "Hildegard, this is not something that I can easily believe. You should know this, since you too are part of a Brotherhood of some sorts." She nodded once. "But tell me, how is Maria?"
She laughed lightly and flipped her hair behind her shoulders. "How did I know that question was coming up? She's been better, Altair. Much better." And here comes the wedding. Augh, Hildegard...
"But she is alive?"
"And slowly dying from missing you."
"I never figured her the type to mourn over a man."
She scoffed and frowned at him. "Fool, she loved you. Still does, probably. But, there recently has been a problem-"
"Why did she never come back, then?" he demanded. He averted his eyes and placed his left arm on the table, running his other hand over it almost lovingly as he stared at the gauntlet. Hildegard gulped, remembering the blade that had almost claimed her life.
"We did not allow her to leave," she finally sighed. He tented his eyebrows together, but did not look at her. One would have thought that he was disapproving of the craftsmanship put into the design of the blade had they not known the conversation. "She never told us about you. Two members of the Rose, Damiel and Benjamin, wrote a letter to her, asking her to return to England. That letter reached her in Acre the day after you two, ahh... you know." She rolled her eyes when he smirked. "She didn't know that they were asking her to permanently return, and so she thought a little visit wouldn't harm anyone. She figured that once she saw her friends again, she'd sail back to the Holy Land to be with you. However, that was not to be the case. I... I am mostly to blame for her absence in your life and vice versa." She sighed and wrung her wrists together. He raised both eyebrows, never looking away from his left arm. He felt a victorious feeling from having Hildegard crack and spill forth information. "I was so thrilled to see her again- we thought her dead for two or more years. And then, there she was, walking off the boat as if she'd been gone for no more than two weeks.
And seeing as I'm the fool that I am, I told her how everything was going to be so much better. I told her of the Rose and that she was part of it, I told her that she was needed in England." She stared at the desk and clenched her hands into fists. "I said so many things that hurt her that I had no idea about... I told her that there was no reason for her in the Holy Land anymore. I said... I said that there was nothing for her there. And when she gave birth to a dead baby boy..." She looked away and closed her eyes, the memory too painful for her to bear. "I kept her away from you, and I am sorry."
Silence past between the two for several minutes until he looked up from his hidden blade and stared at the woman who was now resting her head in her hands and kneading her forehead. He was angry for the past year that she had left him. He was still furious that she would just hop on a boat and never return. But the information he had learned over the weeks had begun to change his mind. She had sent him letters, she did miss him, she did love him. She wanted to come back, but she could not. And here was Hildegard, blaming it all on herself? Would an enemy break down in front of an Assassin and confess like she had just done? Not only that, but ribbons of pale blue flashed from her figure, only enhancing his trust. His sixth sense told him that she was not to be feared, but rather trusted.
He had missed Maria very much; her insults, her smile, her glares, her mockery, her body. He had neglected his own welfare just to mourn her absence, almost weeping from her not being in his life. He had remembered every moment he had spent with her; how they met in Jerusalem, how he kidnapped her in Acre to bring her to Cyprus, how he had brief conversations with her during their adventures in Cyprus, how she had led him to the Templar Archive, how they both escaped its collapsing walls, how they had sailed to India together but never reached the country, and how she had loved him in Acre. He relived all of his precious moments with her whenever he needed to, whenever he felt himself dying from not having her near him. She gave him part of his life that he had thought he had lost when Adha had died. She was the one who had made him human, who had shown him that even Assassins were allowed to love. He would always be grateful towards Maria for bringing love back into his life, as he would always love her. And if she had never received that letter from her comrades, she'd be with him presently with their baby boy. They'd be a family- be able to show the Assassins that even they deserved to love their children.
For a year, he had wanted to destroy the reason that she had left and never returned. He wanted to spill the blood of the person responsible and smile in satisfaction at seeing the blood stain his hands. He was not fond of vengeance, but he was a man that would settle a score and not run from a challenge.
And now, the reason was right in front of him, doing her best to not let the tears wetting her eyes spill forth. He licked his lips and barely whispered, "I believe you."
She looked up at him and swallowed a lump in her throat. "I wasn't expecting that.."
"But I do not forgive you."
"I expected that." She took in a shaky breath before asking, "And why didn't you go after her?"
The question did not catch him off guard. He'd been expecting this question ever since she arrived in Masyaf. "Her letters and my letters were burned, Hildegard. My letters never left Masyaf, and hers never reached me once they arrived here. I believed that she did not want to see me anymore, that I might have dishonored her."
"She didn't have much honor to begin with, Altair.."
"I know, and it was foolish of me to think that. But, also, business at Masyaf kept me from leaving. My Brothers and I have heard rumors of civilizations of great power rising, threatening to overshadow us. Armenia and its lesser Kingdom of Cilicia have become very... questionable over the year. King Levon I has been supporting the Crusaders, and with them, the Templars. The Rubenid's aren't exactly a dynasty we can trust, Hildegard."
"They are Templars?"
"We can only assume to be safe. If I was to leave Masyaf, and word spread that the leader of the Assassins was out looking for his woman, then they would attack. We can ward off armies, but we cannot ward off an entire country."
She rolled her eyes and groaned. You are indeed a fool, Hildegard, for putting all the fault on this man. "I wish we would have learned of this while in England. Maria would have surely understood-"
He closed his eyes and placed his forehead in his palm. "She... misses me, then?"
"Very much," Hildegard whispered. She smiled softly. "You know, for the first month she was away from the Holy Land, we'd hear her every day at noon sing from the top of the church we resided at." He opened his eyes and stared at her, completely stoic as she rambled on. "We would be walking outside, and we'd hear this voice. It was... so beautiful, so moving. I've never heard anything like it before. It was... so..." her voice trailed off as she fought to control the sobs that threatened to escape her lips.
"Forlorn?" he asked quietly. She nodded and looked at him. His face no longer possessed a dominant glare. It still told a story of much work and suffering, yet it was somewhat at peace. Strange how thinking of Maria made this man's core soften. "I've heard her sing once before," he said just as softly when she raised an eyebrow at him. "We'd just defeated Armand Bouchart in Cyprus. The people finally left their homes, no longer fearing what the Templars would do to them. I was looking for her, told her that we'd board the ship to India in an hour. I found her, surrounded by children wearing nothing but rags. She was kneeling down, smiling- something I thought she was incapable of doing- and... singing..."
Hildegard shook her head slowly, casting her eyes down. "Was it beautiful?"
"Entirely."
"What... what did it sound like?" She kept her mouth slightly parted as she noticed the pained expression on his face. Was this... was this the same man that she had seen less than a week before?
"Like rain. It was soothing, yet sounded as if she was missing something, or, someone. She sounded so..." He sighed and looked back at her. "Heartwrenching. You understand?" She mouthed the word 'yes' and sighed.
"Forgive me for accusing you, Altair. I- I had no right to do such a thing."
He blinked and slowly nodded. "Is there... anything else that Maria did?"
"She tried jumping in a cart of hay from the church once. Though, that didn't entirely work out, seeing as how we dragged her back inside right when she was about to take off." She smirked from the memory and he looked slightly amused. "I don't know much of Assassins, but I do know that they like to perform suicide acts such as-"
"Leap of Faith, Hildegard. We call it a Leap of Faith."
"Ahh, yes. Leaping into the Face of Death is what I shall call it, hmm?" she chuckled. However, she immediately sobered when she remembered a crucial part of why she made the trip to Masyaf. She straightened in her seat and stared at him, her eyes wide and holding a small amount of fear. He frowned and was about to ask, when she said, "There is also something else, Altair."
"And that would be?"
"The Rose has done its best to work in the shadows, however, it seems we were not careful enough. The Templars were plotting something right under our noses. I do not know if my comrades were successful evading the issue or falling right into their clutches." She took a deep breath, adding in, "Or, rather, if Maria fell into their clutches."
He immediately tensed in his seat, ready to spring into action. "What do you mean?"
"There are nine new Templars, Altair, to replace the ones that you murdered. One of them, a man known as Clarence, had arranged a... a wedding," she spat the word out as if it was the worst of curses, "specifically to unite his soul with Maria's."
He blinked and slowly settled back down, his muscles occasionally trembling in anticipation. "And was he successful?"
"I received the information while on the boat to the Middle East. All I know is that they were married two Fridays ago." She dug her nails into the chair and breathed in deeply. "But what I can tell you is that if they were successful, then the Templars are now twice as powerful as they were before. Maria isn't exactly a common woman. She owns her father's and her uncle's wealth, and if she belongs to Clarence-"
"She does not belong to him, even if they are married," he hissed at her. His hands were balled up in tight fists, his knuckles turning white. "How could your faction have let this happen to her? Do you not have proper conduct, scouts, informants-"
"Please, let me finish. Clarence is stupid, though. He is full of self confidence and does not look a plan over twice. He is not the brains out of the new batch of Templars, to say the least. However, if the wedding was a disaster, then I can only assume that the Templars are tracking them and they are staying under cover. Altair," she rose from her seat, "my comrades do not know that I left to speak with you. They have no idea where I am or if I am dead or alive."
"I see." He breathed in deeply, his sudden concern vanishing. "I thank you for your time, Hildegard. You may go now."
She blinked and recoiled her head back. "Excuse me? You're just going to dismiss me like that?" She waved her hand at him and crossed her arms, pursing her lips stubbornly. "I don't think so, buddy. I came all the way from England to have an audience with you, and you are not just about to shoo me away while you tend to this matter." She frowned and wrinkled her nose, lowering her head as she did so. "If you're going to be finding information out about Maria's whereabouts, then I will monitor you, understood?"
A completely unnerving and ruthless smile spread across the Master of Assassin's face. He cleared his throat, and called out, "Malik?" Just as the words escaped his lips, the one-armed man returned into the room and stood at attention. "Show our... guest... the room, hm?"
Malik slowly smiled and chuckled. "Do you mean the room?"
"Indeed."
Hildegard slowly stood up, her body tense as the cripple casually made his way over to her, and then-
"PUT ME DOWN, FIEND!" She kicked and punched his back as he slung her over his good shoulder and carried her out of the room as if it was an everyday feat. "HOW DARE YOU TREAT ME WITH SUCH DISREGARD! DAMN CRIPPLED FOOL, I SAID PUT ME DOWN!"
Malik sighed and continued strolling through the halls of the fortress. The other Assassins stared at the two of them with perplexed stares. They glanced back and forth between their Brothers, and each one shrugged in return. Why there was a screaming European woman being hauled away by Malik, they had no idea. He grunted when the woman dug her nails into his neck, piercing his flesh and drawing blood. She raged on and on, her voice becoming louder and more desperate as new waves of energy came to her and commanded her to hurt the poor cripple. Finally, after they descended endless stairwells, he kicked open a door and all but threw the shrieking woman into the room.
"The Master wishes that you inhabit our wine cellar, woman," Malik sneered at her. He chuckled humorlessly as she tore away the hair clouding her vision and glared furiously at him.
"After helping you and giving you valuable information," she spat at him, "and this is the courtesy that Assassins are capable of showing? Throwing a reliable source of information in their WINE CELLAR?"
Malik looked unamused and shrugged his good shoulder. "I am but a loyal servant to the Master, Hildegard-"
"GOD AND THE ANGELS DAMN THAT MAN!"
"-I do as he wishes me to do. Please, do stop shouting. You will only ruin your already annoying voice." He blinked, then continued, "No, please do keep shouting, on second thought."
She was about to stand and punch the living Hell out of the man before her, but then she saw the one responsible for her predicament. HIM...
Altair stood a few feet behind Malik, a malicious smirk stretched across his mouth. "I do thank you for the information, Hildegard. Truly, you have the Leader of the Hashashin's complete gratitude," he said with a hint of sarcasm, giving her an exaggerated bow. "But, you must understand, the information that I have given you today cannot just simply walk away freely..."
She screeched furiously and flung herself at him. She would have succeeded had Malik not slam the heavy wooden door shut in her face. So, instead, Hildegard plummeted into the wood and gave yet another ear-splitting howl. Both men rubbed their foreheads from the sound as they retreated back to the library.
"I take it you've learned something of interest, Brother?" Malik finally gave a sigh of relief when they could no longer hear the woman in the cellar. Altair nodded and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Indeed. It seems that there are Templars on the move, Malik."
"And... do you believe any word that the woman has said of Maria?"
Altair smirked once more and closed his eyes. "It all seems like rubbish." Malik laughed and shook his head.
"You truly do know how to play pretend, don't you?"
"Isn't it what makes an Assassin an Assassin? To hide behind half truths and say one thing yet mean another completely?"
Damiel shook his head back and forth, looking at all the people swarming the streets of the town. Maria had just stabled their horses and was stretching her arms out, not impressed with what they saw. "Good grief, Ria! I've... I've never seen so many cloaks in my entire life! Look at 'em! There's blue, dark blue, light blue, medium blue, black, medium black, grey, light grey, medium grey... Whew, who'd of thought that so many colors even existed?" He chuckled and threw a light punch at her shoulder. She raised a bored eyebrow at him and rolled her eyes when he began hopping up and down excitedly. "Just... just look at 'em! White, medium white, dark white..." He frowned and turned the corners of his mouth down in question. "Maria, is there even such a thing as dark white?"
She sighed and wrapped a choking arm around his shoulders. "Now, listen, Damiel," she hissed in his ear, "I am going to give you freedom for two hours here. Understood? I have some-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa WHOA, back up, Maria. Hold the reins, pull 'em back." He shook her arm off of him and crossed his own arms over his chest, jutting his hip out as he did so. "You're gonna let me wander around here when there are Templars lookin' for us? Are you for real?" He frowned, then took a step closer to her. "You haven't been drinking, have-"
"That's exactly it, Damiel!" She smacked his cheek and growled at him. "Visit the tavern, see if you can learn any new information. You can go to the brothels for all I care, Damiel, we just need to know what's been happening while we've been travelling. You never know, perhaps there's a Templar agent here and we might get lucky and intercept him if we pick up the pace. Do you understand, you gutless monkey, or need I repeat myself in different languages so that you may comprehend the meaning behind my words?"
He blinked, then smirked boyishly. "It'd be absolutely splendid if you- I mean, ahh..." He gulped when his friend held a dagger not even an inch from something extremely precious to the boy's future, should he ever choose to become a father. "I'll get right to it, Maria! Heh... heheh.." Damiel gave an uneasy smile before he ran full speed away from the woman. She smirked and sheathed the dagger back to the side of her boot before she too joined the cloaked citizens.
Damiel slowed his pace down to a casual walk. If there was indeed a Templar agent nearby, he wouldn't want to tip them off to his and Maria's presence. Damiel even went as far as to purchase a cloak from one of the vendors and pulled the garment on, securing the hood over his head. He sighed, feeling much better now that his identity was hidden by the cloth, and did as Maria told him to.
The tavern was a disgusting place, much like any bar. No, the entire town was a disgusting place. It resembled Acre slightly, with the gloomy grey sky and the lifeless colored bricks and houses. Puddles of sickening colors littered the streets, people stepping in them without much thought. Obviously, this settlement needed much work. A pity that the government was not showing much care. It had the potential of becoming a pleasant resort- if everyone would remove the cloak trend.
He swung the half-rotted door open and stood, slightly horrified at what he saw. Men of all ages, some even around his age, sat at creaky wooden tables with holes in them, helping themselves to ale and alcohol from moldy mugs. Women scantily dressed sat on their laps, cooing at them and the men practically burried their faces in their swelled and revealed breasts. Damiel gulped, wishing that Maria was with him to kick some sense into the drunks. What was worse was that everyone had their hood removed in the tavern. He prayed to Riva that no one would recognize him as he pulled down his own hood. He walked with the confidence of a snail and took a seat at a less crowded table, cringing when his bottom felt something wet and warm on the chair. He breathed in deeply, but regretted it when he smelled the aura of alcohol, sweat, and something that was perfume and urine combined. He closed his eyes, knowing exactly what he had smelled. 'Sex... oh, just my luck...'
He gave glances around the bar, refraining from scowling at what he saw. Honestly, did these men have no manners? Even he, a boy of nine and ten years, knew better than to stick his hand down there or to put his lips on that, and, oh dear Lord, most certainly not pull that-
Damiel looked up when a girl no more than twenty years came flocking over to him. It was apparent that this town was heavily influenced by the Christians and Europeans, seeing as how the locals were fair skinned and did not wear clothing relative to what the Arabs wore. The woman's rose blond hair was tied up, revealing a corset that was much too tight for her torso, however, it did a magnificent job emphasizing her voluptuous curves. He averted his eyes, lightly blushing from even looking.
"Anythin' I can get fer you, darlin'?" She reached out and ran her pale and petite hand across his cheek, tracing his smooth tanned skin. He gulped and stared hard at the table.
"One beer will do," he mumbled under his breath. His face twisted in frustration and agony from sitting in this filthy place for so long, and to add to his discomfort, he could feel the tavern girl's stare on him. She smirked, her painted red lips turning up seductively, had he been looking, and took a seat on his lap. He tensed, but did not say anything.
"Now, sweet, why look so... virgin?" She played with the curls on his head with her fingers and giggled in a most naughty fashion when he turned his head away. She took the opportunity to run her hands down his exposed neck, threatening to enter his tunic. "There's no need to be shy," she purred at him. He pursed his lips and balled his hands into fists. "You could be.." she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "my virgin..."
Damiel groaned from having her near him, and almost choked when he felt something warm and wet outline his ear. His hands gripped the table when he felt something wrap around his waist. He took his chances and turned his head around to glance at what the wench was doing. He felt sick to his stomach when he realized she had one leg around him, holding herself close to him as she rubbed a very important section of the female anatomy against his leg. He had no idea what to do, he'd never been in a situation like this before! When he had told Maria that he would have liked the company of a couple of girls, he never meant this type of girl! 'Oh, God, Maria, where are you...'
"Something wrong, my little prince?" She licked his ear once more before taking it entirely into her mouth. She slid her hands down from his neck and into his shirt, feeling his toned chest. His breath hitched in his throat when he felt her fingers circle one of two sensitive areas of his chest, toying with the flesh. Damiel grimaced and closed his eyes. He reached out and tried shoving her off of him, but instead, she had grabbed his hand and placed it in a very soft and fleshy part of her anatomy. His eyes flew open and widened in shock and disgust at what he was touching- no, at what the girl was making him touch. She moaned and trailed her lips across his cheek, licking the flesh as she did so. He shook his head and ground his teeth together.
"Miss, I am indeed a gentleman," he said hoarsely, "but if I need to remove a whore from my person, then I'd be obliged to." He narrowed his eyes at her and lowered his head, dark shadows being cast across his features. She looked at him through half-lidded, lust-crazed eyes as her mouth was nearing his. He heard deep laughter, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was coming from his head. He knew that voice all too well.
Aden.. laughing at him...
"Get. Off. You. Bitch," Damiel growled at her as he grabbed her throat and threw her to the ground. She squealed and looked absolutely shocked at his behavior. Several of the other drunk men looked at the two of them, but then turned their attention back to their own drinks and the whores on their laps. Damiel smirked at her and glared viciously. "Oh, and, my beer, if you will." He pulled out a silver coin from his pocket and threw it at the girl. She quickly pocketed the money between her breasts and hurried off to help him to his request.
He sighed and readjusted his tunic, tying the collar shut. The tavern girl quickly returned, if a bit hesitantly, with his beverage and quickly scurried away once she placed the mug on the table. He stared at the mug, completely repulsed by the color of the beer and the fact that there were some peculiar things floating in it. He shrugged, and took careful sips.
"That was quite a show ye put on there, boy." Damiel's head immediately snapped straight up from hearing the voice. A man with long, stringy greasy hair sat down next to him, his clothes torn and ripped covered in dirt and sweat. He smelled absolutely ghastly, yet the boy did not respond to the stench. He averted his gaze back to his mug and took a gulp of the drink. It tasted God awful.
The man watched Damiel carefully, his gaunt and greasy face looking over his every feature. "What's a virgin like ye doin' in a place like this?" Damiel remained silent as he drank from his mug. The man let off a hoot of laughter, exposing gums that were missing several teeth, and slapped his knee. "Ahh, the ol' quiet type, eh? Pretty boys like ye shouldn't be here, ye know. Them tavern girls can be a real somethin' when a virgin like ye steps foot in 'ere."
Damiel grunted and continued with his beer. The man watched him as he sipped the liquid. "Ye know, 'aven't really seen anyone quite 'ike you 'ere before. What's yer name?"
The foreign nine and ten year old boy closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows at the question. He remained silent. The man slowly nodded. He scratched his crotch, then continued, "Look 'ere, boy, if ye want ta survive this town, yer gonna be needin' my help." He sighed, his smelly breath reaching Damiel's nose. He cringed and drank the last of his beer.
"I do not need your help," he finally said. The man laughed once more. Damiel glanced at him and almost barfed the beer back into the mug when he saw the man's yellowed and rotten remaining teeth. He hadn't seen teeth in such condition since he'd been a slave.
"A'ight, a'ight, I understand. Yer the 'independent' kind, as well. Look, I'll leave ye be if ye can do somethin' fer me." He pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket that was stained with something Damiel did not want to know, and also pulled out a quill and vial of ink from his cloak. "Now, don't ye be pickin' at me, ye virgin, but I was never taught how to write. And ye see, I'm meetin my dear betrothed, and I gotta tell 'er where I'll be at. So, could ye write fer me?"
Damiel sighed, but agreed. "Now, 'ere's what ye gonna say..."
Dear M,
Meet me at the place you hate yet loved the most.
-D.
Damiel reread what he just wrote and frowned, but the paper was quickly snatched from him by the man. "Thank ye, boy, ye've done me a great deed t'day. Now, here's yer tip." The man spat in his hand and wiped it on the back of the boy's neck. Damiel winced and breathed out in anger from the insult, ready to punch the fool that dared to smear his saliva on him, but decided against it. Starting a brawl, which was clearly what he wanted, was most certainly unwise. And seeing as how his pride had plummeted in the last hour, he let the man walk away without raising any objection. Damiel's eyes narrowed when he saw the man hand the letter to another, yet this man had his hood up. How strange... Pah, at least the man had finally left him alone.
Damiel sighed and removed himself from the table and walked out of the tavern. He pulled his hood over his head once more. Hopefully Maria had discovered something worth while.
He walked along the streets of the town, his hands shoved into his britches. It was disgusting, everything was. The people, the buildings, the cobblestones, all of it. Even the food that was being served from vendors was sickening.
'I can't believe that actually happened to me... what kind of place is the world turning into?' Damiel sighed and trudged on, doing his best to not step in anything questionable. True, London had its share of false features, but this... this was beyond anything he had ever seen before. Well, besides Talal's slavehouse and seeing his own blood spill forth and litter the floor when his masters whipped him for not living up to his contract.
He brushed past a group of cloaked men and turned his head to glance in the direction of an alleyway. From what he could see, there was a ladder- perfect! Freedom from the filth! But what he could also see what disturbing, to say the least. The sounds of a man and woman moaning and the latter whining caused Damiel to close his eyes. 'Absolutely unacceptable. Do these people NOT know standard conduct?'
Damiel braced himself and walked hastily through the alley. He didn't look at the couple becoming intimate as he climbed up the ladder and hoisted himself on the roof. He tugged his hood off and lowered his head. The view was terrible though. It only further enhanced his dislike toward the town and caused him to scowl and grimace. Just terrible.
He jogged across the length of the roof and leapt the distance to another rooftop. He repeated this process, searching for Maria. He might as well have been looking for a needle in a haystack. Everyone looked alike- all cloaks, no distinguishable figures. He groaned in frustration and was about to give up his search, had he not heard a voice call up to him.
"Hey, lost soul! Down here!" Damiel frowned and blinked. Did he just hear that, or was he going mad? It sounded so much like her.
"FROTHLESS TANKARD OF BEER SPEWING YEAST! I SAID, DOWN HERE!" Yes, there was no mistaking it. Damiel peered over the edge and almost jumped in joy.
"Maria! I've been looking everywhere for you!"
"Likewise. Now, please, remove yourself from the roof so that I do not have to attempt and fail at climbing up there. I really am not in the mood in humiliating myself, Damiel." She smirked at him from underneath the hood, and he quickly climbed down the wall and was standing in front of her in a matter of seconds. "Ahh, so he still can climb like the monkey he is! Good. You'll be needing those skills for what I've to tell you." She grabbed his hood and pulled it back over his head. She made disapproving clicking sounds with her tongue.
"You find something out?"
"More than you did, I assure you." She smirked at him and motioned for him to start walking. He smiled and walked parallel to her as she spoke. "It appears that I was correct. There is an agent here, after all. And, thanks to my cunning skills and keen eye, I have managed to spot a pigeon coop not far from here. The trick is," she paused and took him by the arm and gently led him away from the center of the street, for there were grumpy drunkards barreling their way throughout the town, "it's guarded and it's too high for my limited abilities."
Damiel smirked and chuckled. "I assume you want me to get up there and retrieve the letter for you?"
"Oh, very good, Damiel, when did you become so sharp?" She rolled her eyes and made an annoying sound with the back of her throat before walking into a courtyard filled with more cloaked townspeople. "Now, Damiel, you see that tower up there?" She nodded her head in the direction. He looked up and his eyes practically shot out of his head. "Good, you see it. I need you to climb-"
"I've climbed plenty of structures, Ria, but..." He gulped and gave her a pleading look. "That's a little too high for my standards..."
She clicked her tongue and looked at the dirty cobblestones. "Oh, what a pity. I thought for sure that you were capable of completing something so... mundane." She sighed dramatically. "I suppose a simple task of climbing a tower is out of your league, isn't it, Damiel?"
He shook with anger and shoved his way past her, grumbling under his breath, "I'll get you that damn letter..." Maria smirked and chuckled to herself as she watched him push people out of his way to reach the roof of the courtyard. They stared at him in shock as he scrambled up the wall, gripping the loose stones, and pulled himself onto the roof. He snorted in fury and ran from roof to roof to reach the tower. His companion merely closed her eyes and took a seat on one of the nearby benches. Oh, how easy it was to get Damiel to obey.
Damiel eyed the tower, sizing it up. He stood at the base of it from where it was joined with another roof. It seemed much, much taller than when he was looking at it from on the ground. He gulped and shook his head. He'd gone too far to return to Maria with his tail between his legs. He would not prove himself a failure- not after what had happened in the tavern. He braced himself, tensed his muscles, and began the climb. It wasn't easy, for he had to stop many times to better his grip and figure out how to maneuver across the wall. It wasn't like the tower he had climbed in Jaffa. That structure had many loose footholds and bricks sticking out. It seemed the Devil himself had created this pedazo de mierda he was climbing. He almost shouted in relief when he reached one of the tower's balconies, but quickly became one with the tower when he heard voices.
'So, Maria was right. There ARE guards up here...' He flexed his shoulders, glad that Riva was strapped to his back. At least if he ended up in a fight, he'd have a way to protect himself. Damiel scaled the tower and gripped the balcony's fence. He pumped his muscles with energy and lifted himself halfway up. He could make out a man's boots walking away from the balcony. Deeming it safe, the boy pulled himself up and over the balcony, unsheathing Riva and silently stalking the guard. With one clean swipe, his throat was sliced and blood stained the floor as he was gently lowered down to it. Damiel frowned when he realized that it wasn't just a tower. No, it was part of a rampart that was the perimeter of the town. He sighed, wishing Maria would have told him so. That meant there were many, many guards on patrol- archers, to be exact.
'I hate archers...'
He bit his lower lip and continued his ascent up the tower.
Maria sat on the bench, impatiently twitching her leg that was crossed over the other. There were two other people on either side of her that smelled terrible. 'What is WRONG with this place? I've seen Poor Districts that are in better condition than this! What a disappointment...' She sighed and kept glancing about. It'd been almost a half an hour- Damiel should have been back by now. What was taking the damn boy so long? She grumbled underneath her breath and closed her eyes, yet was still aware of her entire surroundings. She didn't dare fall asleep in such a place.
"John! You imbecile! You toothless hound! GIVE ME BACK MY DOLL!" Maria raced throughout the townsquare of Canterbury, chasing her cousin. He laughed over his shoulder, the six year old taking pleasure from causing his relative such distress. She pouted as she pelted down the slick streets of England. It had just stopped raining, a slight drizzle taking the place of the thunderstorm, and the first thing the children had done was bolt out the door of Xavier Thorpe's residence and enjoy the outdoors. Maria was innocently playing with one of her dolls that just so happened to be a knight. She was sitting underneath one of the trees of the property, minding her own business, not causing any harm whatsoever, and then John happened.
John, her annoying cousin.
"Can't catch me, Maria!"
"You better hope I don't! I'll kick your face off, you dumb boy!" She huffed and shrieked when she slipped on the slippery stones, flying face first into the street. She groaned and felt her cheek. Holding her hand out in front of her face, she bit her lower lip as blood smeared her skin. Her mouth trembled and her cousin was nowhere to be seen. She sat on the cold, damp street, the cobblestones soaking her clothes. Tears oozed their way from her eyes and down her face, her lips giving way and sobs escaping her mouth. She didn't know how long she sat there, crying, until she saw a man's boots standing right in front of her.
She looked up at the man clad in all white, his hood pulled down, his dark brown hair lightly sprinkled with the drizzle. His blue eyes stared at her grey ones. He was worried, she could tell that. "D-Davy?" she squeaked. He knelt down and scooped her petite figure up in his arms. She rested her cheek against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, crying into him. He didn't say anything, but from the way he was breathing heavily, she knew that John was going to get it from him. And oh, was he going to get it BAD.
"Jonathan Xavier Thorpe! YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO BRING YOUR SORRY BEHIND DOWN THESE STAIRS IMMEDIATELY!" David Thorpe stood at the base of the stairs, his sister Sarah wrapped up in thick towels in the parlor. He had his arms crossed over his chest, a scowl set on his face. Very rarely did David ever raise his voice. He was the quiet one in Canterbury, and quite the charmer. He was known by the ladies of England as 'do you mean, David Thorpe?', as if he was some sort of god. True, he was very polite to the women and knew how to twist his words to have their hearts flutter in desire, but there was already one particular lady he had his eyes set on.
Slowly, Jonathan tiptoed down the stairs, his head hung low in guilt. He soon stood next to his older brother, his shoulders hunched and looked down. He glanced side to side at the floor, squirming from being under his brother's gaze for so long. Usually, whenever he had to scold them, he'd just frown and tell them never to do it again. Of course, they never listened, and sometimes they even had to sew blankets, and MANY times he had picked his fingers. And then there was Maria, who NEVER poked herself with a needle.
"Jonathan. Xavier. Thorpe," he repeated. "Do you know what you've done wrong, young man?"
"No," John mumbled. He gulped when his brother raised his voice.
"Look at me when speaking to me, Johnathan." And so, slowly, very, very slowly, Jonathan lifted his head up and cowered when he saw his brother's icy blue eyes glare furiously at him. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" he slowly repeated.
"No, Davy," he answered with a shaking voice.
"'No'? You are telling me that you do not know what you did wrong?" He narrowed his eyes and grabbed his brother by the arm, yanking him into the parlor. "Perhaps looking at your cousin will tell you! John, you left her outside all alone!"
"It was just a game, though! I've taken her doll from her before, and you've never yelled at me because of that!"
"Have you ever left your cousin outside in the freezing cold rain alone?"
"N-no-"
"Did you ever PURPOSELY abandon her outside?"
"N-no, Davy-!"
"Have I ever found her in such a condition? Crying her eyes out with a bleeding cheek?"
"N-no..." John shrank from each accusation and his lower lip began to shake.
"John, if I didn't find her, Maria could have been still out there! Do you understand how serious this is? What if someone else was to find her? What if that person wasn't nice like I am? What if he took Maria home with him, took her clothes off-"
"That is quite enough, David." Both of the boys looked up and David gave an embarrassed bow with his head. It was never a good sign when Father disapproved of the eldest's actions. "I believe John has learned his lesson, son." Xavier Thorpe stood in the doorway of the parlor, his wife Emily at his side. John immediately ran to his mother and buried himself in her skirts, bawling his eyes out. Maria waddled her way over to her aunt with her towels wrapped around her like a pancho and shawl combined and did the same. Emily Thorpe wrapped both of her arms around the children, leading them into the kitchen where she would prepare a meal to quiet them down.
Xavier sighed when he and his oldest son were the only two left in the parlor.
"Father, I can expl-"
"David Abel Thorpe," Xavier sighed. "How many years do you have on you?"
"Six and ten, Fath-"
"How many years of training have you received?"
"Six, Fath-"
"How old are Maria and John?"
"Six years, Fath-"
"Do you think John would understand what could have possibly happened to Maria?"
David sighed and closed his eyes. "No, Father."
"Son," Xavier put an arm around his boy's neck and sat him down on one of the couches. "They are still very, very young yet. I am just as upset as you are on the matter, I truly am. But they're still children. They will make mistakes, hurt each other's feelings, and then act like nothing happened five minutes later and go back to scheming ways to torture the neighbor's cat or... whatever it is they do."
"I am sorry, Father, I... I was scared." David looked down at the rug and frowned in guilt.
"Never let your emotions show on the outside," Xavier said to his son, looking at his face. They had the same hair, the same eyes, while his son had Emily's nose and soft features.
"For such a thing makes you vulnerable and weak," David finished. His father shook his head and clicked his tongue. David looked up and raised his eyebrow in question.
"For your brother and sister will never understand what it is you are showing to them." Xavier slowly smiled and nudged his son. "Come, Emily's probably preparing biscuits for the two troublemakers as we speak," he stood up from the couch along with his son, "and I would hate to miss your mother's cooking. Lord knows that that woman has a talent with the range."
David smiled and walked into the kitchen where John and Maria were giggling together, the towels now wrapped around both of them. His mother was just setting another tray of biscuits down on the counter. The little monsters had already gobbled the first tray up! And in how many minutes?
"Daddy?" John asked from his place at the table. He and Maria were small enough to fit in one chair together, and that was exactly what they were doing. His father looked over at him and chuckled when he saw the crumbs around his son's face. "What'sa temperature?"
Xavier frowned from the question and looked at his wife for support. She shrugged and looked at Maria who was rolling her eyes. "He means a Templar. Uncle, what's a Templar?"
He was shocked from hearing her say the word- he didn't even know she knew that word! He and David exchanged worries glances, yet they composed themselves. Yet, it was the son that was able to speak first. "Ahh, I take it you two have been paying Doctor Foo more night visits lately?"
Emily laughed and took a seat next to Maria and John. The former immediately hopped down from the chair and found a new seat on her aunt's lap. Xavier looked at the two of them with regret in his eyes. Emily's long, wavy black hair matched the little girl's hair so well- even their eyes were identical. Emily looked at her husband, sadly smiling at him, knowing what very well should have been hers as her arms wrapped protectively around Maria. The girl made no complaint and snuggled further into her aunt's warm embrace.
"Weeeell?" John whined. He pouted and leaned his head in his palm impatiently. "What'sa Templar?"
Xavier nodded and sat down next to his son. "A Templar is... a Knight, Johnny."
"Like the ones we read in books?"
"Is that what Doctor Foo's been teaching you?" David laughed and ruffled his brother's hair. John squirmed from the gesture but kept a smile on his face. Maria giggled as David lightly squeezed her cousin's nose. John squealed and ran from the chair, only to be caught by his father. The man tickled his son, earning more laughter and squealing from the boy. Maria pointed and laughed at John, sneering at him. David glanced briefly at his mother, both of them holding the same look in their eyes. Soon, just like John, Maria was being held by an adult, having her sides poked at and tickled.
And soon after that, both children were sound asleep, being carried upstairs to their bedroom by man and wife, David having gone out to the barn to check on the animals.
Xavier opened John's bedroom door, said boy's arms wrapped around tightly his father's neck as his face rested on his shoulder in deep slumber. Maria was being carried by her Aunt Emily, the woman rubbing the girl's back as she held onto the girl in the same fashion that Xavier held onto John. They quietly stepped into the room and Xavier lowered John gently down on the bed. The boy squirmed, but soon settled down as his father tucked the sheets around his son and gave his forehead a soft kiss. He turned to his wife, only to see her still holding onto Maria. Her eyes were watery and nose red, the tears obviously there yet refusing to show. Xavier sighed and gave his wife a knowing gaze.
"Emily..."
"It isn't fair, Xavier," she said, tilting her chin down to stare at the child in her arms. "Why can she not stay with us, where she belongs?"
The man gave a small smile and gently brushed his hand along his wife's cheek. "Emily, I know what you feel- I believe she too should live with us-"
"Your brother is a horrible man, Xavier. Every time she comes to visit us, there is a new scar on her body." A tear silently rolled down her cheek, only to be thumbed away from her husband. "How much more do you think we can take?"
He gently pried Maria out of his wife's grip, aware that the woman was extremely reluctant to let the child go. The girl's arms instinctively wrapped around her uncle, but soon loosened their hold as he softly laid her out next to John's sleeping form. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead before turning back to his wife. "I know, love, I know," he whispered. She had her arms wrapped around her while she bit her bottom lip. Xavier Thorpe took the few steps separating himself from his partner and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest while more tears spilled forth. "Shh, shh..." he whispered. She nodded once and pulled away from him.
"My crying will wake them up," she said softly as she wiped her hand across her face. She walked out of their bedroom, Xavier following and shutting the door behind him. She made her way to their own bedroom and stopped once she was standing in the middle of the room. She crossed her arms once more and slowly turned around to look at her husband. "Xavier..."
"Please, Emily," he stroked her cheek once more and brought his mouth to her forehead, giving her a lingering kiss. "Please, love, try to at least enjoy her company while she is still here with us." He nuzzled her cheek with his own and pulled her to himself once more. "And be thankful that she is nothing like Alan."
Emily nodded and buried her head in his shoulder. "Every day, Xavier, I hate myself more and more.."
He ran his left hand up and down her neck, reminding her of exactly what she decided to marry. "Do not say such things, love. What happened was not your fault, we've been over this. Be glad that Maria is healthy and happy when she visits. Be happy that she and John get along so well," he murmured into her ear. "Things could have ended a lot worse than they already have, love. Try to appreciate what you have, Emily- for Sarah's sake." He turned his head to the side as she did the same. He kissed her lips gently, knowing the pain that she went through every time she saw Sarah Thorpe.
"HEY! What do you think YOU'RE doing, boy?" Damiel gasped when he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind him, pulling him back down to the balcony. He had just resumed his climb when he heard the voice of an angry guard.
The boy fell to the floor on his back, Riva digging into his spine. He quickly scrabbled back onto his feet and would have been successful in unsheathing Riva, but the guard threw a punch to the boy's jaw, the impact causing him to stagger backwards. Damiel blinked away the lights dancing across his vision and clenched his hand into a fist, ready to retaliate and mimic the guard's attack. However, he let out an oof! when he felt the guard's foot connect with his groin. The boy bit back the pain and threw himself at the man, sending them both to the ground. They rolled around, each fighting for dominance, until Damiel felt new pairs of hands lift him off of the guard. More archers had come to the aid of their comrade. Two of the men held the nine and ten year old boy by both of his arms. Damiel whipped and turned his body around side to side, screeching like a rabid animal while trying to free himself of the men. He violently tugged at his arms, but they held on with renewed strength. The two men held onto him while the third dealt blow after blow to his stomach.
Spit flew out of his mouth as each punch connected with his ribs. He groaned and his knees gave way, slinking to the ground. The guard that had previously assaulted him stood off to the side, smirking. "Well, boys, what 'ave we here?" He grabbed a handful of the boy's curls and pulled his face up to look him in the eyes. Damiel bared his teeth at the man and growled not only at him but from the pain. "Looks like the boy the Boss has been looking for, don't he?"
The other men gave murmurs of agreement, nodding their heads. The guard held an amused expression from the boy's useless act of fearlessness and backhanded him across the cheek. More saliva sputtered out of his mouth, as well as blood, and dripped onto the floor. "Boss was right. He certainly doesn't look like he belongs in England." The man knelt down in front of Damiel and sneered at him. "What's a mutt like you going out and about and defiling the Templars?"
Damiel pursed his lips and spat in the man's face, smiling when he staggered and almost fell on his bottom. He wiped his face with his hand and smacked the boy once more. "You shit of a halfbreed! I'll teach you respect-!"
"That's enough, Boris. I believe my men can take it from here." A new figure with a band of men trailing behind him approached the group of guards and their captive. He was a stout and short man with a face that reminded Damiel of a rat. He glanced side to side nervously, like he was expecting an attack. "Ahh, Damiel, so good to see you- and in one piece. Splendid..." He curled his lip disgustingly, his eyes shining brightly with bloodlust. Damiel squirmed and tried to shake himself out of the men's grasp, but he was quickly rewarded with a swift kick to the middle of his pelvis for his efforts. He groaned and hung his head low, his eyes shut tight.
The new man chuckled and gave a jerk of his head to his men. They immediately grabbed hold of Damiel and dragged him through the balcony's door and made their way down the tower. "You know, Damiel," the man began as they descended the stairs, "I consider this an honor that I was able to capture you. You, the pitiful dog that serves that bitch Maria Thorpe."
Maria rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself stubbornly. Damn that boy! Where in bloody oblivion was he? She was about to stand up from the bench and begin a search-and-lecture party, but a group of men wearing cloaks made their way past her. Of course, they looked like just about everyone else in the town, but their hoods were down, revealing freshly shaved heads and frantic eyes searching the crowd, as if they were looking for someone. She frowned, her own hood secured over her head. Peculiar...
Her eyes searched their figures, looking for something that identified them. Perhaps they were the guards? If so, they were doing a poor job of keeping the peace within the settlement. Just look at all the drunks walking about and the feces decorating the ground!
Two of the men stopped right in front of the bench that she was sitting at, their sides turned towards her. "She isn't here, I told ye that an hour ago!"
"Doesn't hurt to check again, eh? Besides, wasn't she spotted with that mangy hound?"
The other man chuckled and waved his hand in amusement. "Ye mean that foreign boy? The one pretendin' ta be an Englishman?"
"Yeh, that's the one! Him! Didn't she come in with him?"
"Aye, and our other men 'ave foun' him, too. Found him in the south tower, they did. From what I've heard from the others, he put up quite a fight, that one did." He laughed and shook his head.
"I s'pose this means that our job 'ere is done, then? Afta all, we we' only meant ta capture one of them-"
"Think about how the Boss would reward us, though, if we we' ta capture the lass!" Both men nodded their heads from the thought and chuckled. "Perhaps he'd even let us get a bit of a... taste of 'er, eh?"
Maria's eyes widened from eavesdropping on the men. They... they captured Damiel? But, how? Yes, the tower was guarded, but only by two men! How could he have been captured? He had Riva on his person when he took off, and Damiel wasn't one to show mercy when cornered. She narrowed her eyes when she saw a ring with a cross etched into it on one both of the men's ring fingers. Templars... God damn you to the deepest pits of Hell where you'll both rot until the day you die. She bit her lip and waited until the two guards had left to leave the bench and wander the streets. This isn't good... This isn't good at all... What the Hell am I going to do?
She walked on and on, brushing past other cloaked figures until she came across a group of men carrying what seemed to be a bundle in their arms. She squinted and almost gasped in shock when she realized the bloody package was a human- and not just any human, but Damiel! His eyes were closed, his entire body limp. So much blood...
Ten, eleven, twelve- there was no way she could handle all of them, and it looked like they were set on their mission. Maria bit her lip in frustration and her fists shook violently. She had no idea where they were taking him, or what they'd do to him, but she knew what she had to do.
She had to continue onto Acre without him.
"DAMN ASSASSINS!" Hildegard screamed as she kicked each shelf containing wine and threw her fists as the wall. "STUPID, FUCKING ASSASSINS!" She cried out in agony and frustration, ripping at her hair and falling to her knees. "I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!" She sobbed and wrapped her arms around herself; her last attempt to hold onto her sanity. "And now... now Maria's going to pay for what I've done..." She whined and crawled to the darkest corner of the cellar and held her knees to her chest as she rocked back and forth. "You try to do something nice, Hildegard, and it ends up biting you in the ass and throwing you into a wine cellar. Damn the male species!"
She buried her head in her knees and let the helpless tears escape her eyes, no longer caring about pride or behavior. If they were not going to treat her like a lady, then she would most certainly not act like one! If she had to throw every last bottle of wine at the door in an attempt to break it down, then she would. And the Lord knew how many bottles the Assassins kept. "Stupid, drunk men..."
"That man probably didn't even believe me... May his penis melt off his body and may breasts develop on him. I can't believe this! Why... why is it so difficult to accomplish anything in the world?" She sniffed and pouted into her legs. "Assassins... all they're good at is lying. He didn't even know... didn't even know what Maria said about him- what she told me. 'Oh, Hildegard, he's a very quiet man, doesn't talk too much. He seems cold-hearted, but there's a person deep down underneath the Assassin robes. There's actually a human being in there and a warm heart.' Donkey piss, Maria! DONKEY PISS!"
Altair watched silently as the birds flew out from the grand window of the Masyaf fortress. He had sent a letter to each of the bureau leaders of Acre, Jerusalem, and Damascus to keep a sharp eye out for Templars. They were here in the Holy Land, he knew it. And if they intruded further, they'd threaten the Assassins' goals and ways of life. They had to be put to an end.
He made his way to his bedchambers and sat on the foot of his bed, throwing his head into his hands. What was he going to do? He had told Malik that he thought Hildegard's words to be filth, but he believed that filth! And now the woman didn't trust him- again. He couldn't go to her to speak about Maria. Hildegard was the only person who was able to give him information on his beloved, and now he had her thrown in the cellar. 'It could have been worse. I could have thrown her in the waste pit.' He chuckled humorlessly at the thought of seeing the woman sprawl about and flail her arms as she struggled to remove herself from body wastes.
He threw his robe to the side, kicked his boots off from his feet, and shrugged out of his kameez, leaving him only in his shalwars. He sighed and flexed his muscles. He had made a mess of things, he knew that. He also knew that if what Hildegard spoke was true, then Maria was in grave danger. If she was married to this 'Clarence', then he would personally make sure that the man's testicles and penis were thoroughly removed- after Bayo was done chomping down on it. He swore that if that, that filth touched his Maria, he'd have each of his finger and toenails ripped off of him, his eyelashes plucked, his ears sliced off, wood wedged so far up his ass that he would never be allowed to relieve himself again-
A violent smirk played over his lips, deepening and becoming terrifying each passing second. He would love to teach that man who Maria rightfully belonged to, and most certainly not him. Maria Thorpe belonged to one man, and only one man: Altair Ibn-La'Ahad.
But, if she was not bound to that man, then what would he do? 'She was in hiding' is what Hildegard had told him. He'd be able to find her, given the chance. But what if he was never given the chance? Armenia was rising to power, the King clearly showing signs of corrupt leadership. And now, nine new Templars to replace the ones he killed. Nine out of the ten...
What would he do with Hildegard, to be exact? He couldn't keep her in the wine cellar forever. She'd go insane, and even though she was downright barbaric, she was an innocent. If she lost her sanity because of him, he'd be violating the Creed, and he was not in the mood to demote himself. But he couldn't just let her leave Masyaf, no no. It was much too risky. She knew his face, his concerns, where the fortress was and its darkest secrets... He could not become dependant on her, it'd only weaken the Brotherhood. If he had to keep her within the walls of Masyaf until she breathed her very last breath, he'd do so. Or, she could conveniently fall from the castle and conveniently fall into a pile of sharp rocks...
He shook his head. No, he couldn't kill her. He had to keep the madwoman alive. If not for him, then he'd do it for Maria. She had claimed she and his lover were the best of friends, as he and Malik had a brotherly bond. If Maria was to ever walk back into his life, she'd gut him, skewer him, and roast him over a pit of fire, creating an Altair-kebab. She'd probably throw Malik in there as well just for the fun of it and make Malik-kibbeh.
'Ahh, Maria, why must you be such a tigress?' But he wouldn't want his woman any other way. A little bit of passion, some attitude problems, a whole pile of pride and ferocity, plenty of brains, and of course, beauty. Yes, she was more than qualified to be his partner for life.
He breathed out and let his back hit the bed as he curled up in the sheets, grabbing a pillow and holding it close to him. He wished dearly that it was her.
"You damn Assassin! You're bleeding and you won't let me bandage your wound?"
"It's just a scratch- I can handle myself, Maria!"
"Oh, I'll believe THAT when I see it! You constantly need me walking behind you and picking up after you, protecting your lazy ass!"
"How can you accuse me of something such as that? Who was the one who killed the Templars imprisoning YOU?"
"I could have dealt with them on my own!"
"Oh, yes, Maria, of COURSE. Because, from what I can see, you're waiting for Prince Charming to come on his fiery steed and save you from-"
"I WILL RIP YOUR TONGUE OUT AND HANG YOU FROM YOUR TOES IF YOU DO NOT SILENCE YOURSELF!"
"I'd like to see you even try."
Maria galloped throughout the kingdom on her horse. She was only one day from reaching Acre- another day added to how far away she was from her comrades. She clung to the horse, her body crouched low against the saddle, and shook her head furiously. 'How did this all happen? How COULD this all happen? Damned bloody Templars...' She gripped the reins tighter, urging the horse faster and faster. She would have to be strong for her friends and for the sake of the Rose. She was their last hope now and she'd find the allies Benjamin spoke of even if it meant travelling through Hell and back.
She would never abandon her friends.
Translations:
Magnífico = magnificent
Pedazo de mierda = piece of shit