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Chapter Three: Climb the Mountain

The moment she stepped foot through the doors of the Seven Bells, she regretted it. The place was big enough with two floors, but the stench of the alcohol was enough to make her stomach churn. Alcohol wasn't something she had acquired a taste for unlike her brother who deemed it a necessity. She walked through the entrance and kept her head low preferring not to make eye contact with any of the locals. The goal was to get a taste of the place then explore the environment outside.

But first, she was going to talk to the bartender while she waited for her brother. He had earned the attentions of some women, and was currently chatting with them both. In a few minutes, he'd join up with her but for now she was on her own. She walked past a couple of tables ignoring the looks she was receiving.

There was only one person carrying out the waitress duties – a young girl with brown pigtails wearing a green dress. She was walking back and forth between the counter and tables bringing out beer to the patrons. Evie raised a brow – the girl seemed a little too young to be working in a place like this, but she supposed it was better than being out on the streets. Perhaps this was a family business.

The owner was obviously the bartender. She spotted a middle-aged man with thin short light brown hair busy searching through the bottles on the shelves behind the counter. The bottles were lined up on a fancy ornate brown shelf, arranged in a way that made it easy to tell which one was which. Above each section was a label. The labels read as: Bonders of Old, High-Class Whiskies, and Direct Imports. On either side of the shelves was a trio of barrels most likely placed there for atmospheric reasons. The counter itself was a mahogany brown with decorated edges coupled with a four red pub chairs without spindles.

"Evie?"

Evie was about to reach the counter when she heard her voice. Turning around, she was surprised to see Henry clad in his usual colourful robes, holding a mug of ale in his right hand. "Henry," she said, acknowledging his presence with a nod. "I didn't know you liked to drink?"

"You are correct – I don't, but we need to blend in with the environment." He gestured towards an empty table in the far eastern corner of the dining area. "Come, let us sit." Evie followed him towards the table and took the seat on the right. He leaned forward. "Where is your brother?"

"He's outside talking to some women."

"Prostitutes, then."

"Hm?"

"They usually hang around taverns because it's the easiest way to pick up men and earn some money," Henry explained. "They work for the Templars, Evie. They're spies. Sleep with willing men. Take their money after getting information. How else do you think the Templars became so powerful?"

More enemies, and what a wonderful disguise it was. Undercover Templars posing as prostitutes. No one would suspect a thing, but she knew her brother would resist. For one, he would never pay to share a bed with someone. "He'll be with us shortly. What information do you have?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing – did you speak with your brother about dealing with the Templars?"

She nodded. "Yes, and we have a plan."

"I'm not going to like it, am I?" The disdain was all too evident in his tone.

"I'll let my brother explain. Better it comes from him than from me." Henry brought the rim of the mug to his lips then took a sip before putting it back down. How had he convinced the bartender to give him water anyway, and how much had it cost? Evie glanced over her shoulder and looked towards the entrance. She was about to stand up from her seat and head outside to drag her brother in, but he stepped through the doorway a few moments later. He caught their eye and wandered over.

"Prostitutes in broad daylight?" he said, planting himself down besides Evie. "Templars certainly have a bizarre sense of humour. Taking money off the weak and using that to strengthen their fortress here. What do you think their end game is? Are they hoping to impress the Queen?" he said heatedly, obviously annoyed at the recent event.

"They're spies, brother. I have to give the Templars credit – they've done well building up a network," Evie said.

"And we have to tear it down," he replied curtly. "There is no time to waste. We start building up a gang of our own and we take the fight to the Templars in the alleys. We'll invade their boroughs, kill their leaders, and convert their followers to our cause by whatever means necessary."

Henry took a drink from his mug again then cleared his throat. "You want to start a gang of your own? How is that going to make things better? You'll start a war and there will be causalities."

Evie leaned forward, both elbows resting on the table. "We'll be careful. We won't draw attention from unwanted eyes. We'll plan ahead and take appropriate measures to ensure we don't make the same mistake the Assassins of the British Brotherhood made." That meant no making treaties with the Templars and hoping they'd eventually leave to maintain the peace.

"Forming your own gang and using them to control the city… Doesn't this sound all too familiar to what the Templars are doing?" Henry replied, shifting his eyes between the twins, an expression of disbelief on his features.

"What else do you suggest then? I see no other alternative. The Templars are large in number; the Brotherhood no longer has any power here in London. We have to make do with the resources that we have," Evie debated. "You were a member of the Brotherhood once, Henry. Surely, you can understand our plight. We can't allow the Templars to continue to grow in power."

Jacob clapped his sister on the back and grinned. "Fighting words, Evie." His expression then turned serious. "As I told my sister earlier, this is a case of gang politics. One party will dominate the other and have control over the people. At the moment, the Templars have that control. They have their spies who feed them information. They have enough people to make them a force to be reckoned with. Now in a fight, only one person emerges victorious, and the winner is seen as the strong one. The leader. That's how gangs grow in power. People want to be on the winning side."

"That might be true to an extent, but this is not a back alley brawl," Henry retorted. "You can't just expect to charge into this fight and expect to win. There is more at stake here – look at the bigger picture."

"What I see is suffering," Jacob rasped, fist resting on the table. "For years the working class have suffered at the hands of the Templars. They're underpaid, they work until their bodies break and they live in shitholes where no one gives a damn. Even children are forced to work just so they can survive. Now you tell me – is this not worth fighting for or are you happy enough to sit back while the world around you burns to the ground?"

Henry looked to Evie, as if waiting for her to provide him with an answer. She shrugged. "What my brother is trying to say is that we are fighting for the greater good, Henry," Evie intervened, before her brother could debate his point further. Bringing up the past would only add to the tension and she didn't want that. If they were to succeed, both her brother and Henry would have to agree. "You'd be a welcome addition to the gang. The voice of reason. No one knows us better than you You don't have to fight, but you can still help us succeed. " It would also be nice talking to someone else trained in the ways of the Assassin who actually followed the three tenants as seriously as she did.

Henry drew in a deep breath then sighed. "All right. I'll help, but don't expect me to carry out any of the dirty work. I'm here to look after both of you, not take part in any fights. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime."

"Great. Now that's solved, we should worry about the next step – accommodation. We'll need a new place to call home," Jacob started. "Any ideas?"

"The Seven Bells has beds to spare," Henry said. "In fact, this place used to be the headquarters of the British Assassins a decade ago before the Templars took control. We'd have to talk to the bartender and convince him we can be trusted and won't bring in any trouble. There's also a girl I think you should talk with." He averted his gaze.

Evie turned her head and noticed he was glancing in the direction of the serving girl. The girl was still looking in their direction. "Do you know her?"

"Don't let her innocent looks fool you into thinking she's clueless – she's a little rapscallion, but she's knowledgeable about many things… including Templars," Henry replied, pulling his gaze away from the girl. "Her name is Clara, and I think it would be worth talking with her to obtain some information on our enemies."

Evie looked away, her brows knotted in confusion. "She's a child."

"A cunning child and a thief." Jacob snorted.

Whatever activities the girl liked to get up to in her spare time was of no concern to Evie. Despite being knowledgeable about Templar activities, questioning a child about such things seemed strange. Not that it would be too difficult – her brother might be a few minutes younger than herself, but often it felt like she was several years older. Sometimes her brother had to be treated like a child to get him to do the right thing. Reward him for his efforts and scold him when he did wrong.

"We'll order something. That'll give us a few seconds to talk with her at least and see what she knows."

"I'm going to find Clara," Henry said, rising to his feet. "I'll be back shortly."

"And I'm going to get myself something to drink," Jacob announced, rising from his chair. He moved towards the counter while Evie remained seated watching her brother. He traded words with the old man behind then pointed a finger towards Evie's direction. A few moments later, he reached the table and sat opposite to her. "Why the sour face? We should be celebrating. Henry has given his approval."

"Do you have to argue with him?"

Jacob shrugged. "He needs to loosen up a little and realize what we're fighting for. Maybe that's why the Brotherhood fell to the Templars – they didn't fight back."

Evie glowered. Most of the time she could tolerate his rants, complaints and tantrums, but sometimes he took it too far. "It wasn't cowardice that led to their loss. They made a mistake – they underestimated the might of the Templar Order, and the Templars used that to their advantage." Or so she assumed. No one knew what happened between the Assassins and the Templars. Templars never spoke of it, and the Assassins, all but Henry, had left.

"Maybe it was those three tenants that held them back. You know, the ones about hiding in plain sight, not compromising the Brotherhood and staying the blade from the innocents? If they truly believed in freedom then they wouldn't bind themselves to such pointless beliefs. How are you going to win a war if you spent your time hiding?"

A challenge. He was testing her to see if she would break. He knew she obeyed the Creed, and he liked to use that against her, but she knew better than to allow herself to be angered by his words. This was Jacob in defensive mode. When he was cornered, he lashed out in the best way he could – insults, fist fights and irrational self-justifications.

Before Evie could offer an explanation, Henry returned with two black jugs of ale in both hands. He laid them down on the table then turned to Jacob. "I managed to find Clara."

"And?"

"I didn't have much time to speak her, but she's agreed to give us some information about the City of London and its districts when she has her lunch break. I had to pay a few pounds, but it will be worth it."

Jacob helped himself to a jug of ale, took a swig then put it back down. Evie didn't even try to stop him – she didn't drink. "Why not just ask the bartender?"

Henry supplied an answer. "A child has no reason to lie, but an adult does. She's agreed to talk with Evie and I in an hour's time before the bar starts its preparations for the night."

"What about me?"

"I ran out of coin."

He frowned. Clara was a smart girl to charge a price for each head. "While you two chat, I'm going to speak with some people. I'll be back within the hour, I promise."

"Speak with whom?"

He smirked. "You'll find in an hour's time, sister." Jacob took another swig of his drink, placed the mug down then stood up.

"Try not to get into any trouble while we're talking to Clara."

"You don't need to worry, Evie. I promised I would be on my best behaviour," he replied with a wink. He finished the remainder of his drink then looked to the second jug of ale. "It would be a shame for it to go to waste…"

"I'm not having any," Evie said.

Henry shook his head. "I don't want it either."

Jacob took the second mug. "Great. More for me then."

Evie watched her brother drown down another mug of ale slightly concerned. Her brother already had a short fuse, but when combined with alcohol, trouble was basically unavoidable. At least he was in good spirits – that lowered the chances of a fight occurring, but what had he meant when he said 'talking to some people'?

She looked around the room again – it seemed even more people had entered the bar. Not a single table was left unfilled. Women and men traded stories, talking in loud voices and laughing about the most random of things, as if they didn't have a care in the world. Coming to the bar for a few hours was a chance to escape from the mundane lifestyle of work and provided a temporary relief to the stress of little pay.

"Those men… they keep looking at us…" she said in a hushed tone, eyes fixed on a pair of adult males in western corner. Both men were holding a mug of ale in a hand, eyes looking in their direction. One man wore a black top hat and a green coat, whilst the other wore a buttoned up white shirt. She noticed there were black markings on his face, though she couldn't decipher what they meant from the distance. "Do you think they suspect?"

Both Jacob and Henry looked then turned away. "I'm not surprised. They're probably drawn to Henry's garbs," Jacob answered, gesturing to Henry's white robes. "Everyone else is wearing drab and dull colours here. No wonder people are looking. Don't think anything of it – if they wanted trouble, it would've happened already."

"We should meet up with Clara now. She'll be waiting for us outside the back of the shop."

Evie nodded, and rose from her chair. "We'll be back shortly."

"I'll be off too then. See you soon. I'm sure we'll have exciting stories to trade."

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The leader of the gang, a man with shoulder-length shaggy black hair with smudges of dirt on his face, moved forward, fists hanging down at his sides. His expression was hard, his gaze unflinching, as he continued to take confident strides towards him. Jacob remained in place, arms crossed, shoulders pinned back, waiting for the other male to make his move.

"You've come to the wrong part of town, lad," the man said. He spat at the ground then wiped his mouth using the back of his right hand. "But please, feel free to stay. What do you think boys? This one looks like easy pickings."

The four men behind him all nodded. "He can't be too wise if he's come to this part of town on his own," one of the men said. His words were greeted with enthusiastic shouts as the gang members trade high-fives with each other.

Another man, one of the two men lacking a shirt, rubbed his hands together. "He looks like one of those rich pompous bastards from Westminster. Take him on now boss and then we loot what we can before the Templar assholes start their patrols."

There were Templars in the area then, and by the sounds of it, the local gangs were afraid of them. That would make it a lot easier to convince them to join with him if they believed he could help. He waited for the men to cease their chatter before speaking. "One on one? That's hardly a fair fight," Jacob replied. "Let's even up the playing field, shall we?"

The leader snorted. "You're joking with us. I don't take kindly to jokers."

"Five on one... That is, if you think you can manage." The other men started moving forwards, their grins now replaced with scowls.

Excellent, Jacob thought. Now we're making progress. He still remained in place waiting for his opponents to move within striking distance. One on one fights were too easy – three was a warm up, but five was almost a challenge. These men didn't look too tough and he suspected they would surrender pretty quickly once they were realized they were overpowered. All he had to do was prove his worth and he'd have power over them. He took his hat off and laid it down on the floor out of harm's way.

"Come on boys. Let us teach this fool why he should've started running." One by one the men attacked. The first man charged, and threw his weight against him, in an attempt to tackle him to the ground. Jacob stepped to the side, easily evading the blow, and sighed. That was disappointing. The second man let out a roar and charged. This time, Jacob allowed the man to knock him over, just to give the men false hope.

His back made contact with the ground. His attacker immediately climbed on top using his weight to pin him down. Fortunately, the man hadn't pinned his arms down yet allowing him to take control of the battle. His attacker had placed both his hands just below his neck. Jacob covered his attacker's hands with his right hand then raised his left hand, placing it on his opponent's right tricep. He pulled him down with a hard tug.

Jacob raised his knees, and angled them to the left, trapping his opponent's foot. He lifted his backside up from the ground then rolled to the side, swapping positions. Drawing his hand back, he curled his fingers into a fist then drove it forward, knuckles colliding with the jawbone. The man cried out in pain. Jacob rolled off him, climbed to his feet, and felt someone try to grab him. He brought his head forward then back, slamming his skull into his holder's nose. Hands released him immediately.

One man was lying on the ground, whilst the other was clutching his nose, blood streaming down his arms. Three more remained. Earlier on, the men were keen to brawl, but now they looked hesitant, reluctant and afraid even. "Is that all you have? I was expecting more," he taunted, unable to stop himself.

The leader took a cautious step back, opting to take on the defensive position rather than take the offense. The remaining gang members stood back, unsure what course of action to take next. They turned to their leader awaiting orders. No orders were given. Seems the leader was smart enough not to send any more of his men into battle.

Jacob sauntered forward. His rival moved forward and threw a punch. Taking a step forward, Jacob countered with his own punch, striking the man in the forearm. A satisfied yelp of pain left the leader's throat as he staggered backwards, struggling to regain his composure. Jacob punched him again. He toppled over. "I won't hold it against you if you want to surrender."

"Fuck you," the man spat, clutching his arm, as if fearing it would fall off if he didn't. "This is my territory!"

He collected his hat, then walked over to the leader's side and peered down. "You know as well as I do that's not true. You mentioned it earlier about Templars patrolling the area. Something tells me you want to avoid them… You're afraid of what could happen. I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" A dry bitter laugh left his throat. "Why would you care about our plight? You'd be better off killing me. Save the Templars from doing it themselves."

"If I wanted you dead, you would be." He reached an arm out then added, "Stand up."

There was a pause as the leader of the gang contemplated his next move. "...Are you keeping me alive to mock me?"

Jacob sighed. "I have no love for the Templars. To remove them from this city's presence is my goal, but I can't do that alone. The Templars have their spies – I need mine. You seem like a good candidate for the role… What's your name?"

"Charles."

"Come work for me, Charles, and I can promise you a better life. I can pay you good coin."

Charles helped himself up to a sitting position, but still refused to take his hand. "I can help myself up." With a grunt, Charles climbed to his feet, and dusted his clothes off. "Something tells me that I'm making a deal with the Devil here, but it seems we have a common enemy. We have a deal. My men and I submit ourselves to your cause."

There was a still distrust in the man's eyes – fear and uncertainty – but the man had been beaten. Continuing to fight now would only embarrass him further. There was still some work to be done to fully win over the man's trust, but at least he had agreed to help. Jacob took his hand and shook it as a gesture of friendship. "What do you say for a drink at the Seven Bells? There's someone there I'd like you to meet."

"As long as you're paying."

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