I don't own Assassin's Creed or RWBY. Also, there is no action in this chapter. Sorry.
'thought'
"speech"
Amaranth dropped in front of a nondescript cafe, walking through the door. He walked to the back and opened a door that led to a cellar. He walked down the steps and followed a long hallway, coming to a stone wall. Placing his hands on it, he pushed and the wall rotated, letting him through and closing behind him. The path he was on led to another building supposedly closed and set as a landmark. It also served as the assassin's base of operations here in vale, with no doors in the building itself that weren't booby trapped and monitored. There were a few access points from other places, such as the roof and nearby stores and such, but they were near impossible to find unless you knew where to look.
Amaranth pulled off his hood, revealing his short and slightly curly dark red hair. He'd emerged directly in the main hall, which was constantly patrolled and guarded by several brothers and sisters of the creed. He walked past all of them, nodding and exchanging words of greeting. Amaranth walked up a set of stairs to the main office, where the Master was located, taking a deep breath, and knocking before entering.
The master was old, with a short grey beard, balding head, and a similar outfit to the other assassins outside, only black. Due to the advancements in technology, the assassins outfit had been modified to blend a little better, exchanging the stark white robes with a double sided grey trench coat and hood to blend in with the city and background, that could be flipped to a more colorful side to blend in with the crowd. It was rather helpful for different missions and could conceal weapons much more easily.
The master turned, fixing his gaze on Amaranth, and ordering, "Report." The master was always a serious, no nonsense type. Many of the younger assassins had cheerfully called him the type to yell at kids to 'get off his lawn' if he'd lived a normal life. Amaranth took a breath and stated, "Roman Torchwick is dead. The White Fang helping him were captured by a group of student huntsman and huntresses that arrived on the scene a little after me. However, due to certain complications, his death wasn't quite as unobtrusive as hoped, a rather visible explosion over water."
The master sighed, rubbing his eyes, then looked at a rather large map of vale on the wall beside him. "Well, there's nothing that can help that now. I assume that you at least were able to escape unnoticed?" Amaranth's "Umm..." made his answer clear. The master sighed again then turned to Amaranth again. "It doesn't matter anyway I suppose. You won't be around here forever." Amaranth blanched. "You're not banishing me from the order, are you sir? I know I messed up a little but he was going to shoot someone and-"
"No, I'm not banishing you. I have another mission for you that will make tonight's events and whether you were seen or not pointless. It came up rather suddenly when an old friend contacted me." The door opened again, as if for dramatic effect and in entered a silver haired man with glasses and dressed all in black except for a green kerchief tucked into his suit jacket. The tap of a cane at his side made Amaranth's eyes narrow. Ozpin, the man walked to the master's side and smiled slightly at Amaranth. "Hello, Amaranth, it's a pleasure to meet you. Your mentor praised your skills quite highly."
"... How long were you listening and waiting outside the door just for this moment?" Amaranth said, "And why couldn't I sense your presence or aura?"
Ignoring the first question entirely, Ozpin shrugged and said simply "The ability to suppress your aura is taught to every member of the brotherhood, isn't it?" the snick of a blade on his wrist making Amaranth's eyes widen.
"Ozpin is a very important member of our brotherhood," the master stated. "and he has offered a place for you at Beacon academy." Amaranth looked confused. "Sir with all due respect, I am able to and have fought on the level of a huntsman before. Do I need more training?" "On the contrary," Ozpin picked up the conversation, "I require your skills to combat a threat I believe to be in my school."
"An unknown assailant attacked the fall maiden some time ago and stole some of her power." state the master. Amaranth's surprise reached a new level. He'd known assassins had met the maidens before on missions and heard rumors about their power. If the legends were to be believed then any huntsman, even Ozpin, would be hard pressed to stand against them let alone defeat them. But if Ozpin knew about this then...
"You're harboring her and are expecting an attack," stated Amaranth. Ozpin nodded. "Yes, but I also have a feeling that someone, perhaps one of your enemies, has infiltrated the school." A Templar. Most likely trying to gain influence and/or skills to combat the assassins. Great.
"So it's my job to find out who the Templar is, kill them, and then help you prepare for the attack?" Amaranth questioned. both men nodded. "Will I be posing as a student?"
"Yes and no. Your skills do rival that of average huntsman already, so I thought it would be best if you posed as a teacher's assistant and substitute. You'll be helping Miss Goodwitch's combat class, perhaps setting up an obstacle course for students or survival training. You will be given a student dorm and will eat meals with them, however. Your master and I thought it best you pose as the son of a huntsman who taught you and frequently took you on missions to gain experience. You came to Vale and Beacon to complete your training but were seen as eligible to pass as a huntsman already. As such, you were offered a temporary teaching position instead, to pass the time until you were old enough to receive your license and go on missions officialy. Does that work for you?"
Amaranth nodded, committing the story to memory. "Seems like I have a very irresponsible father," he said, pointedly looking at the master who deadpanned at both him and Ozpin at the same time somehow. After hashing out the details, Amaranth left for his own room, a repurposed office space. A table, chair, bed, and coat rack were the only pieces of furniture. He first went to the table, pulling out his weapons; the twin curved short swords, silver in color and in dark brown sheaths, his powerful revolver designed to shoot through a damaged aura, a poison dart gun with sleeping darts loaded into it, his grapple with heat and shock functions built into it, and his twin wrist blades, the signature weapons of the assassin's brotherhood. He turned to the coat rack and, after a second of thought, flipped the trench coat and hood inside out to reveal a dark red interior, much the same color as his hair, before putting it up, figuring the flashier side would gain less attention at colorful Beacon Academy. Amaranth finally put a pouch of ammunition for his guns by his weapons before changing to sweat pants and a tank top. He lay down on the bed wondering about Beacon and the students he fought with, or at least not against, on the docks. Then cursed remembering the dead White Fang grunt he'd left there before the battle began. Now, if he was recognized, he'd be seen as a killer. With any luck the change in color and the fact that none had seen his face would make him unrecognizable. He shrugged, deciding to leave the problem alone until he got to Beacon, and fell asleep, falling into dreams of the ancient past, as ghost like figures seemed to surround his bed for a moment before disappearing.