Essen, Germany – September 1940

The car comes to a halt in front of a nondescript café on a nondescript street. It was pitch black outside. Not a single lamp illuminated the deserted street, hemmed as it was by anonymous buildings on both sides. After Elisabeth cut the engine, there was complete silence. Jan couldn't help but look around, wary of the darkness. He wasn't afraid of ghosts or spirits – he didn't believe in those. But he was afraid that if someone pulled him into that darkness, he'd never return.

Without any of his hesitation, Elisabeth and Kevin left the car. The cold wind bit into Jan, all the way to his bones. Autumn was here, and anyone need only stand in the street to know it. Instead of going to the front door, the two Assassins led him into a side alley just wide enough for two people to walk side by side. It was even darker here, but they knew exactly where they were and how far their destination was.

The footsteps stopped. Elisabeth knocked on what sounded like a wooden door, then waited. It wasn't as cold here, but Jan was still shivering from the cold. There was no response, so Elisabeth knocked again. This time, they heard footsteps coming. Light appeared under the door, and it slowly got brighter as the footsteps got closer. The door opened just slightly, enough to shine light on Elisabeth's beautiful but tired features.

"Do you know what time it is?" the man from behind the door demanded.

"I don't, actually," Elisabeth replied indifferently.

"It's 3 in the morning." The man made sure to put special emphasis on the word morning. He sighed and continued.

"Who are you?"

"We're but blades in a crowd."

The door closed, followed by the sound of a lock being opened, before the man finally welcomed them in. Jan came in last, and he was grateful to be out of that cold. The man closed the door behind him and looked at them. He was wearing plain yellow pyjamas. He probably wore glasses, because his eyes kept squinting at them. His square face was lined with a few wrinkles. If Jan had to guess, he was middle aged. Contrary to his sleepy appearance, his short hair was neatly combed to both sides, divided straight in the middle of his head.

"Fräulein Lisbeth, you look awful." He said that as he put a gun he was holding behind his back into a nearby drawer. "Have you been driving all night?"

"All day actually. We've just come from Silesia. May we see the Council?"

"I told you what time it was. Everyone's asleep. Is it urgent?"

"Not really but–"

"Then you should all get some sleep first. I think there are empty beds."

"There always is these days," she said, her voice tinged with sadness and hopelessness. She took the lantern from the man before leading them down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, she pushed a brick on the wall to the side and was met with a clicking sound. Kevin then pushed the wall in front. It swung open as if it was as light as a door. They went in and closed the door behind them. What followed what a mazelike set of corridors and intersections, reminding Jan of the corridors of the castle he had been forced to call home for almost a year.

They haven't said anything, but Jan was sure they were going to the Assassin headquarters. Father had taught him that it was in Essen, but he had never been outside of Berlin before the invasion of Poland. The walls around him are old, made with crumbling, dusty bricks that were far older than he was.

Finally, they reached a dead end. But inscribed in black upon the wall facing them was the emblem of the Assassins. It was slightly faded, but still in good enough condition for it to be visible in the dim light of the lantern. Elisabeth pushed the brick in the centre of the emblem and the wall slid open, revealing a room partly lit by candles around the walls. At its centre, an Assassin stood in his robes with a rifle aimed straight at Elisabeth.

"Oh, you're back," he said as he lowered his rifle. "I take it it was a success."

As they chatted, Jan looked at his surroundings. The room was filled with furniture and decorations pulled straight out of a Renaissance painting. It was more accurately an intersection, with each doorway leading to a dimly lit corridor. In the room itself, there were tables at each corner holding candles. On the walls above the doorways were red banners lined in gold with the fading emblem of the Assassins on each of them. They would've looked more impressive if it weren't for the numerous spiderwebs covering them.

"I'll inform the Council. They'll probably want to see you first thing in the morning." Jan could not see the man's face in the dim light, hidden by the peak of his hood. But his voice was deep and firm, and his shoulders broad. A perfect man to keep watch at night.

"Are we at the headquarters?" Jan asked, wishing not for an answer but for confirmation.

"Yes," the man said. "Welcome to the bastion of the Brotherhood in Germany."

A bastion of dust, spiderwebs, faded banners, and outdated technology was all that came to Jan's mind when he said those words. The man soon left them. Jan followed Elisabeth's lead to reach a side room in one of the corridors. Inside were several beds, most of which was empty.

"Take any bed you want," she half-whispered. "Any empty ones don't have an owner anymore."

She closed the door and left him alone in the dark room, with only a single candle next to the door giving him light. He disrobed, taking everything off except his underclothes, and lay down on the bed closest to him. He was exhausted. Every part of his body ached with exhaustion, and even the hard bed gave him comfort in that state. But he couldn't just fall asleep like that. Elisabeth's words haunted him. Or to be more specific, one of her words haunted him. Any empty ones don't have an owner anymore.

At some point, he fell asleep because he was once again in that interrogation room. He was sitting in the chair. The torturer was hitting him with all his might, kicking him in the stomach. When did the chair fall? The officer was still asking his questions, but he was shouting. Jan felt the officer's spit on his face. But then, it began shaking. He looked up, and saw the faceless torturer over him, shaking him endlessly and with such force that he felt he was about to vomit.

"Wake up, Jan."

Jan opened his eyes and sat up in the bed. He half-expected to see the officer or the faceless torturer, but it was only Elisabeth. His head spun, and his entire body felt damp with sweat.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jan said, rubbing his temples. "What's happening?"

"The Council wants to see you."

"Right now?"

"You should be able to take a shower first," she said, glancing at his soaked undershirt.

After Elisabeth left, Jan took some time to reorient himself before pulling himself out of bed. He went out, but Elisabeth had neglected to tell him where the bathroom was. After asking a passing Assassin, he showered and was about to put on the same underclothes he was wearing before when an Assassin came to him and handed him a robe and some clothes.

It wasn't like his robe in Berlin, which was more like a dark trench coat which he wore over his regular clothes. This was an actual Assassin robe, made by and for Assassins. It was black and had a hood connected to it with a pronounced beak that would hide the wearer's face from light from above. Underneath it, he wore a standard white shirt, grey black trousers, a belt, and black shoes. When he went outside the bathroom, the same Assassin was waiting for him and led him to the Council chamber.

The chamber was vast, longer than it was wide. Intimidating old pillars lined the walls on either side and in between each was a yellow banner. Its borders were black, and on each was the Assassin emblem in the same colour. They were old – probably in the decades if not centuries – but were better kept than the ones he'd seen up front. The tall ceiling curved in, giving the appearance of the interior of an upturned stone boat. The entire place felt like it was frozen in time, as candles flanked either side of the red carpet. The entire place felt like a cathedral.

At the end of the carpet, Jan stood before the Assassin Council. They were looking down at him from the balcony that formed a half-circle in front of him. Five of them stood before him, the distance between each equal. They wore identical elaborate grey robes. In the dim light, it took Jan a while to realise that the brown panels behind them were the backs of their wooden chairs, each engraved with the Assassin emblem in a circle at the top. The one standing in the middle was doubtless the Mentor.

"Jan Adler, son of Ernst Adler." The Mentor spoke in a deep yet shaky voice. "The Brotherhood asked you to go to Poland, a battlefield unlike you had ever seen before."

"There, you and your brother and sister retrieved an artefact of great importance to the Templars," continued the man on his left. "A book which contents are unknown, written in an unknown language."

This time, the man on his right spoke. "Then you were attacked. One of our sisters killed, you fled with your brother to bring us the artefact."

"But your journey did not end there," said the man on the far left. "You were captured, and for almost a year you were a prisoner of the Templars."

"And yet," spoke the last one, the man on the far right, "You did not break. You did not divulge our secrets, nor betray our Brotherhood. Why do you fight? Why do you struggle?"

Jan looked at their hidden faces, dark and grim in the firelight. They wanted an answer. He was being tested, that much he knew. But tested for what? That, he was unsure of. He looked at them each in turn, staring into the darkness in which their eyes should be. He clenched his fists and gathered his resolve. And then, he spoke.

"It is my birthright. Just as my brother is an Assassin, just as my father was before him, just as his father was before him, and all that came before. It is our, my duty to follow in their footsteps to protect the innocent, protect justice and freedom."

"Justice, you say. Justice for the people, or justice for your father?" asked to the Mentor's right.

Jan's throat tightened. All the events of that night flashed before his eyes again. The ambush. The soldier aiming at his father. The sky-splitting shot. His father's body in his hands, the life slowly draining out of him.

"Both," he answered, just managing to keep his voice steady. "My father believed in the Creed, believed in the Brotherhood. I don't want to let his death be in vain. I wish to continue the work he started, to carry the torch he held."

"Do you seek revenge?" asked the Master on the far right. They locked eyes, or at least Jan thought they did.

"Yes." The Master would be able to tell if he was lying, so there was no point in that.

"Revenge will consume you, Jan," the Mentor began. "There is no comfort in there, no relief. Revenge will only cloud your mind, your judgment, and lead to your own fall. What happened to your father was a tragedy, and when the time comes the Templars will pay. But there are much bigger stakes at hand, bigger than any one of us."

Jan held his gaze, but it took everything he had to keep his emotions in check. He was trembling as he heard those words. He desperately tried to push down the words floating in his mind. It's easy for you to say. You didn't watch your own father slowly die in front of you.

Silence. None of the Masters said anything. They merely kept their eyes on him, watching him. He felt like holes were being drilled through his soul.

The Masters gathered behind the Mentor's chair. Jan couldn't make any words. He only knew they were discussing him, whispering. It wasn't long before they all returned to their chairs.

"Very well," announced the Mentor. "Out of the dark, you come into the light. From the light, you will return to the dark. Are you prepared to travel the eagle's path?"

"Yes." Of course I am. It's what he had trained for all his life. The eagle's path was his life. Outside of it, there was nothing.

"Then drink."

The wall in front of him opened, the bricks parting before his eyes. They revealed an alcove, with the emblem of the Assassins painted black on the wall. In front of it stood a goblet of gold on a marble stand. He stepped forward and held it in his hands. Inscribed upon it were the words Fraternitatem Numquam Periculare. If only he knew Latin. He raised it to his lips and drank it until no drop remained.

Wine, he thought. He had only ever drunk it in small amounts, certainly never an entire goblet's worth. It was sour, and as it travelled down his throat, he felt like his neck muscles were being pulled inwards. This must be what they called strong alcohol. As it spread throughout his body, so too did the warmth. His head started spinning and he stepped back into the centre of the half-circle.

He hit something – no, someone. He turned around, and all five Masters stood around him. The Mentor started speaking.

"These are the words spoken by our ancestors, and by all our Brothers and Sisters from the hills of the levant to the fjords of the North. The words that lay at the heard of our Creed."

"Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent." One of the other Masters said it, but Jan could not make out who as his vision started blurring.

"Hide in plain sight." Another.

"Never compromise the Brotherhood." One more, but not a single one followed. Instead, they all broke out in unison.

"Nichts ist wahr, alles ist erlaubt."

"May these tenets be branded into your mind and your heart. Follow them and be uplifted. Break at them at your own peril." The Mentor paused, before unleashing the final words: "Rise, Assassin."

As Jan raised his head, Mentor nodded at him and one by one they left, leaving him in the centre of the half-circle. But when it came for the final one to leave, he lingered. He stared at Jan, standing only a few paces in front of him. Somehow, Jan knew it was the man on the far left. Perhaps from the way he carried himself, or from his posture. But either way, Jan knew it. The Master stepped forward, and the fire light illuminated the bottom half of his face.

"Once you are feeling better, young Assassin, come visit my study."

Without another word, he turned around and started walking out of the sanctuary. Jan staggered after him. But his head was spinning horribly, and he couldn't maintain his balance.

"Wait!" he shouted as he lost his footing. "Wh-who are you?"

"Elisabeth will know." And then he left.