10 November 1938 – Berlin, Nazi Germany
I could feel the heat from the flames around me. I felt the cold sweat pouring down my face as confidence and pride were replaced by rage. I could hear them shouting and screaming as I swirled and slashed. I was surrounded by armed men swinging and aiming their weapons at me. I didn't know how many I killed. As soon as one fell, I'd turn my attention to another. I thought it would never end, and that I would be stuck there forever at midnight on the burning streets of Berlin, killing and spilling blood. Unwittingly, my mind went back in time and thought,
How did we get here?
Just an hour before, I had been awoken by the sound of glass shattering down on the street. I woke up and rushed to the window, and my brother Karl followed not long after. A group of young men were throwing bricks into Mr. Nichelsberg's shop across the street. When Mr. Nichelsberg himself came out to confront them, he barely dodged the brick they threw at him. And then he was down on the pavement, being kicked and beaten. I could hear Mrs. Nichelsberg screaming from inside the store. And then father came. He didn't do anything, and it seemed for a while that they were only talking. "I'm going down there," said my brother as he rushed out of the room. I was about to do the same when the hooligans ran away and father brought the Nichelsbergs to our house. But what we saw was just the beginning.
Everything went by in a flash. I ran downstairs after Karl and found my father sitting by the telephone in the living room. His face was serious, and his eyes were fixed on it, waiting for it to ring at any moment. Karl and I stood near the doorway, looking uncertainly between him and mother tending to the Nichelsbergs in the kitchen. We asked him what was going on, but he told us to go back upstairs and sleep.
Even though we didn't want to, we did. We knew better than to argue against him in such a situation. But we couldn't sleep. While Karl sat by the door to see if he could hear anything downstairs, I stayed by the window and looked at the night sky. When we were awoken, the sky was black and dotted with stars. But as time passed by, red and orange rose above the horizon. But it wasn't the sun; it was the light of the fires burning across the city. I could see pillars of smoke rising high, covering the stars in a thick blanket of grey.
Not long afterwards, Uncle Rudolf came by. At first, I couldn't see him come down the unlit street, but eventually I was able to make him out in the darkness. He was wearing his black coat with his hood pulled up, almost indistinguishable from his surroundings. He knocked, the door opened, and he went in without a word.
I kept my eyes on the horizon while Karl put his ear to the floor to try and listen to what they were talking about. And then we heard father raise his voice, and I ran over to Karl. We couldn't make out what it was, but father was angry. We decided we could no longer just sit and wait, and we rushed downstairs again to find father in the midst of a heated debate with Uncle Rudolf.
"Damn it, Ernst!" shouted Uncle Rudolf at my father. "The Council told us to stay put. There's nothing we can do. There are too few of us left."
"It is exactly because the Council refuses to do anything that this is happening in the first place! How could we not know that this was going to happen? Not even an inkling?"
"I understand that you-"
Uncle Rudolf's words were cut short by our arrival in the living room.
"Boys," said Uncle Rudolf in greeting. He smiled, but I could see that he was in no smiling mood.
"What's happening, Papa?" I asked father. He sighed.
"It's the Nazis," he said, as he turned around and faced the living room window. "They're out on the street. Their soldiers, the Sturmbateilung. They're destroying Jewish shops, houses, synagogues, everything. They're setting fire to them and beating up the people."
"What? Why would they do that?" I asked, confused.
"If only we knew. But the Assassin Council refuses to send us in. Instead, they're telling us to stay put and keep low."
"What do you want to do, Ernst? Rush out and kill as many of them as you can? Blades slashing and guns blazing? There are less than a dozen of us left in Berlin. You know that very well."
"So, what now? We stand here and watch as the city burn, and innocent people's lives are ruined? Let them die at the hands of those Hurensohne?"
To that, Uncle Rudolf was silent. He seemed conflicted, and reluctant to say what he was about to say. "We have no other choice."
Father stayed silent too, and just stared at Uncle Rudolf.
"Well, I can't. To hell with the Council. I'm not going to stand by and just watch. I'm going out there."
At that moment, mother, who had been listening from the kitchen, came in and asked what my father was going to do. They argued, but father's mind was set.
Suddenly Karl spoke up. "I'll go too."
My mother's expression turned to one of pure terror. She shouted that she would not allow it. But my father said he was old enough and that if he wishes to go, he should go. I didn't want to be left out, didn't want to be the only one just sitting around and doing nothing, and so I announced my intention to go too. But if I expected my father to say the same thing, I was completely disappointed.
"No, you won't. You're too young, and your training isn't complete. You will stay here and protect your mother and the Nichelsbergs."
"But, Pap-"
"I'll go too," said Uncle Rudolf. "I don't agree with what you're doing, but it doesn't sit well with me to just stay here and watch while you and Karl go out there fighting against these bastards." He told mother not to worry and that he'd keep them safe.
And so, they left; father, Karl, and Uncle Rudolf. I was left alone, gaping in the hallway while mother went back to the Nichelsbergs. I felt frustrated, being treated like a kid and not being trusted to be able to go out and do what I was born to do. I was only a few years younger than Karl, and my training was almost complete. Father had always taught me to do the right thing and to not shrink away from danger if it was to do the right thing, but now I was being told to stay away. I didn't want to. I couldn't.
I ran upstairs and changed. I put on my coat, pulled up my hood, and fastened my twin hidden blades. I ran downstairs as fast as I could. I made sure that mother was still in the kitchen, and that she couldn't see me. I opened the door quietly and ran in the direction they had left.
I caught up to them and followed them at a distance. I stuck to the shadows and walked as silently as I could, just as I had been trained. For the most part, they didn't fight. They only helped get those who had been hurt to safety, and sometimes they'd intimidate some unarmed hooligans so that they'd run away. Once or twice, father and Uncle Rudolf had been forced to defend themselves and fight on the streets.
Finally, they came on a unit of Sturmabteilung in the middle of beating up an old man on the street. What seemed to be his shop was burning behind him, and his wife and children were being kicked about on the pavement as they cried and screamed. Father, Karl, and Uncle Rudolf came to them and asked them to leave. They scoffed and laughed at the request. I could see seven of them, and they seemed to have been confident in the fact that they outnumbered them.
Three of them started moving around my father, flanking him on two sides. They talked and taunted, but they didn't attack. When my father showed no signs of moving or going back, they had had enough. One who seemed to be their leader pounced on him, but my father moved out of his way as if it was nothing and the soldier fell face first onto the street. They continued like that for a while, them attacking my father from all sides and him dodging and sometimes getting a punch or kick in.
Eventually, only my father and their leader remained standing. His two comrades had been pulled away by the others, beaten and unable to continue fighting. My father didn't get hit even once, while his opponent was already a mess. But he refused to back down, out of pride or disbelief I didn't know. For a few moments, none of them spoke and neither attacked. They just kept moving, circling each other, as if both of them were trying to find some weakness in the other.
And then he rushed and tried to get a hit on father's face, but my father caught his hand before he could. My father pushed him off, and he fell again onto the street. Karl was laughing, while the soldiers were trying to look away in embarrassment. Father was saying something, and I moved as close as I could to hear what he was saying.
"Leave. You're proving nothing by doing this."
Their leader was still lying down on the street. He didn't lift his head. He was looking at the asphalt, probably embarrassed or brimming with anger at having his pride injured. He lifted his head a little and turned to look at my father. And then in a flash, he had a gun out and was aiming at my father. My heart jumped as the shot rang out.
Crack!
My father wasn't standing where he was. He had dodged the bullet and rushed towards him. The gun had fallen onto the street and my father was twisting their leader's hands so that he was screaming in pain. One of the soldiers who was watching took out his own gun and was about to aim it at my father, when he felt a cold, sharp blade on his neck. He looked to his left and found Uncle Rudolf had moved there and extended his hidden blade across his neck. He dropped his gun and moved back, raising his hands.
The hooligans ran away, leaving their leader bloodied on the street held down by my father. His bruised face was filled with confusion, anger, and fear. He shouted at his fleeing comrades in fury, telling them to come back and help him. But when they went out of sight, all his anger faded away and what remained was only fear and terror. Suddenly, my father stood up and pulled the leader up with him.
"Go, and don't ever do this again." He pushed the leader towards where his comrades had run. He immediately ran as if his life depended on it, not looking back at all.
They came around the old man and his family. While they were talking, a haggard man in torn clothing came around the corner. His face was dirty and bruised and his lip was bleeding. He limped over to where my father, Karl, and Uncle Rudolf were gathered. I saw Karl tensing his arm, preparing to engage his hidden blade, but my father's hand stayed it. The man came near and half-fell to the ground.
"Sir, please, you've got to help."
"What's wrong?"
"It's the Nazis. A group of soldiers came by, armed to the teeth, and they started burning our shops and beating us up. I managed to get away, but I saw that they were rounding up my neighbours. Please, sir…"
He was begging on his knees, and I could see the tears in his eyes.
"Where?" asked my father. The man gave directions and offered to bring him there.
"Alright, we'll follow you." He turned around and spoke to Karl. "Karl, get these people to safety. Rudolf and I will go ahead."
With that, my brother helped the old man up and brought him and his family back towards the way we'd come from. As for my father and Uncle Rudolf, they followed the haggard man as he limped through the streets. I followed them from a distance, still making sure I was not seen. With Karl being sent back, I would be there to help them if things got worse. That was what I kept thinking as I followed them through the streets.
They reached a wide street flanked by endless buildings on either side. Several of the shops were on fire, their glass storefronts shattered and whatever remained inside having turned to ash. The streetlamps weren't lit, but the flames provided enough light. And bathed in the fiery light, they could see a group of people sitting on the ground, guarded by three soldiers armed with rifles that you'd see on the battlefield. The soldiers noticed their arrival and turned to face them.
"What are you doing here? Go away."
The haggard man retreated, but neither father nor Uncle Rudolf moved an inch.
"Are you deaf? I said go away."
The other soldiers started moving closer to them, unslinging the rifles on their backs.
"What are you going to do to those people?" confronted my father.
"It's got nothing to do with you. So. Clear. Off."
The soldier had just begun to aim his rifle at my father when my father pulled it from his hands and kicked him to the ground. With one swift move, Uncle Rudolf kicked another one and delivered a blow to the face of the other. In less than ten seconds, all three soldiers were writhing in pain on the ground. Suddenly, they could hear a loud voice sounding from all around them.
"Impressive, Assassins," said the voice. "Tales of your skills and… savagery are not exaggerated, it would seem."
My father and Uncle Rudolf wheeled around and looked uncertainly around them, trying to find the source of the words. "Who are you?" demanded Uncle Rudolf.
"You can probably guess by now to what order I belong."
"Templars," father spat as he engaged his hidden blades. "What the hell do you want? What do you gain by doing this?"
"There's quite an interesting reason really. We don't just kill people for fun, do we? Or misguided beliefs, such as some do."
Suddenly, more than a dozen soldiers streamed out of the buildings and the alleyways. A group of them started running out of one I was hiding near to. I hid behind trash cans right at the mouth of the alley, and it was all I could do to quickly hide as I heard their footsteps. They came out and surrounded my father and Uncle Rudolf, blocking any path of escape. They were all armed with rifles, and I could see they wore a different uniform, with the stylised letters SS on their helmets and collars – the Schutzstaffel, the so-called Protection Squadron and the primary foot soldiers of the Templars. They didn't aim their weapons, but they held it at the ready so that when the order came, they'd be able to shoot.
"But unfortunately, you won't be alive to hear it."
One of them raised their rifle and aimed directly at my father's head. I panicked. I couldn't let my father get shot. But there were so many, what could I do? A thousand thoughts ran through my head as to what I could do. But I couldn't figure anything out and I just ran. As he was pulling the trigger, I reached him and tackled him to the ground with all the strength in my body. He fell under my weight and the shot went wide in the sky.
The soldiers were taken by surprise and looked one way or another, some aiming their rifles, others holding back. I got up as quickly as I could and ran over to my father.
"What are you doing here?" he said, the surprise and horror evident in his tone.
"Later," urged Uncle Rudolf, who was standing in a defensive posture.
The voice came again. "My, my, what do we have here? A son? A father and son team of Assassins fighting together, back to back… dying together, in the face of overwhelming odds. My, how heroic. I hope you don't regret that, boy."
He paused.
"Kill them."
At those words, one of the soldiers began to shout. "Ziel!" but before he could finish his orders, I and Uncle Rudolf had closed the distance to the soldiers to our back, while father had done the same with the soldiers in front of us. Like a storm we came upon the soldiers, who were now forced to fight with their daggers and bayonets. I saw that my father had cut down two of them immediately and Uncle Rudolf had taken down one. I did the same with one as I rushed towards him. The fighting was chaotic, and we didn't realise that the circle around us was becoming smaller as the fighting became more intense. Father fought half a dozen on his own, while I and Uncle Rudolf fought another dozen. It was the heaviest fighting I had ever been in, and we tried our best to not kill anyone, using our blades only when we had no other choice.
One came at me and swung his rifle clumsily, hoping to hit my head. But I was quicker, dodging the blow easily. I ducked and delivered a blow straight to his chin, knocking him backwards and out. Distracted, I didn't see another coming towards me from behind. The butt of his rifle hit the back of my head, and I fell to the ground. As I lay on the ground, I turned over and saw him about to thrust the point of his bayonet into me when my father took hold of his rifle and punched him right in the face. My father hurriedly turned to me and extended his hand.
"Are you alright, Sohn?"
I took his hand and stood up, the pain in the back of my head still sharp and my head spinning slightly.
"It hurts quite a bit, but I'm fine. I can still fight, Papa."
There was no time for conversation, as another approached my father from behind. His hit would've landed on target if my father had not ducked. As my father ducked, I pulled the attacker's rifle and he fell forward. I kicked him hard in the stomach and gave a hit to his face. We had taken down more than half of them, and we were making short work of the rest. None of the soldiers were a match for three highly trained Assassins.
Suddenly, the tide changed. A truck came, and more soldiers poured out. We were separated from Uncle Rudolf as more soldiers joined the fray. We were fighting back to back against the onslaught – punching, kicking, dodging, slashing, ducking.
As half a dozen men fell upon me, I was separated from my father. They were attacking me from all sides, swinging the butts of their rifles. Some of their hits got me, and I was bruised and hurting all over. I knocked two out, but four more still came at me. I dodged a swing from above only to have another swing hit me right in the stomach. I fell to my knees, feeling sick as the world around me began to spin.
In the distance, I saw my father fighting a dozen men. He wasn't like me. He was skilled, experienced, and strong. Two of them attacked him from two different sides, and yet he skillfully deflected both and knocked them out. Three more came after him. One swung the butt of his rifle towards his face, another towards his stomach, and the third one his back. But he dodged them all and delivered a heavy blow to the one aiming at his stomach. He knocked out another one with a punch to the face and was forced to use his blade to slash the other one's arm and kick him in the face, knocking him out too.
As I was about to stand up and continue the fight, I saw a bit farther away from father one of the soldiers aiming his rifle at me. I stared at him, afraid and unsure of what to do. But my thoughts were cut short by a blow to my face. I could hear father shouting my name. As I fell, I could hear the loud, deafening sound of the shot… and to my horror, I could see my father slowly falling down onto his knees in pain. He had rushed between me and the shooter and had taken the shot meant for me. I hit the asphalt hard, but I couldn't feel the pain. It felt unreal. I wasn't sure where I was, or what I was doing.
"Ernst!" I heard Uncle Rudolf shout in the distance.
But it quickly faded away, and rage, fear, and desperation overcame me.
"Bastarde!" I shouted as I jumped up. I engaged my blades and ran them through the necks of the first two men in front of me. Another came at me from the left and his bayonet grazed my arm, but my blade found his stomach and I pushed him down. I kicked away one as he came to my right. I rushed towards my father. Two soldiers came near him with their rifles held up. They heard me coming and turned towards me, but it was too late. Both fell down as my blades found their mark.
I heard the sound of a bullet casing falling out and saw that the bastard who shot my father was reloading and aiming at me. I pulled up one of the men I just took down and used his body as a shield. The shot took him right in the chest, and he died in pain.
Gathering all the rage in me, I ran towards the shooter. He was shocked, and in vain he tried to quickly reload and shoot me. But his shot missed me, and in a matter of seconds, my blades found their mark in him. I ran my blade through his neck, and as the blood poured out and he gurgled in pain, I shouted at him.
"Die, you Bastard!"
He cried out in agony before finally dying by my blades. I ran over to my dying father. His limbs were limp, and his face was getting pale. There was so much blood on his shirt. The shot had hit him right in the chest, and my father was struggling to breathe. His eyes were dazed, and he couldn't focus. Tears started rolling down my cheeks. I was shouting and screaming, but I couldn't make out what I was saying. I held him in my hands as he lay dying. He finally focused his eyes on me. He held my shoulder with his hand, and he smiled a sad, gentle smile at me.
"Nichts ist wahr… Alles ist erlaubt," he coughed, and blood came out. "Remember that, Sohn. Don't ever forget that. You're an Assassin, just like me." He coughed again.
"I'm sorry." A single tear rolled down his cheek. He breath was ragged. He kept coughing, and with each cough more blood came out. His eyes were becoming unfocused, and his face went pale. As I sat there trying to keep my attention away from father's blood seeping through his clothes and coating my hands in red, I found myself wondering what he was thinking at that moment. Although fires were burning around us, I felt cold and so did his skin. His hand was shaking, and I could feel his grip on my shoulder getting weaker. He brought his hand to my cheek and caressed it. I could feel the tremor in his cold hand.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. He was caressing my cheek, and on his face was an expression of regret, but also love and kindness. "I love you. I love your mother, and I love your brother too. Please tell them for me." I was sobbing, and more tears were streaming down my face. I wanted to say something, but my voice had gone. I wanted to say don't leave me, don't leave us, but I couldn't. He caressed my cheek, trying to calm me down. "I'm sorry," he said as he pulled his hand slowly. He closed his eyes, and his hand fell onto the ground.
And then his entire body went limp in my arms. I was silent. I wasn't crying anymore. I felt empty, dead. I felt like my entire world had fallen apart. I laid down his body and stood up. I felt like I couldn't breathe, and that there was only one thing I could do. I turned my attention to the soldiers who were still alive, some still fighting against Uncle Rudolf.
I ran towards them.
I could feel the heat from the flames around me. I felt the cold sweat pouring down my face as confidence and pride were replaced by rage. I could hear them shouting and screaming as I swirled and slashed. I was surrounded by armed men swinging and aiming their weapons at me. I didn't know how many I killed. As soon as one fell, I'd turn my attention to another. I thought it would never end, and that I would be stuck there forever at midnight on the burning streets of Berlin, killing and spilling blood.
By the end, more than two dozen men lay dead on the street, turning the asphalt dark and red. My blades were slick with their blood, and cuts and slashes dotted my clothes and face. I didn't feel any pride or happiness or relief. I was dead. Of all the corpses on the street, I was looking at only one: my father's. Uncle Rudolf came to me and said some things, but I didn't catch them.
With Uncle Rudolf, I carried my father's body home. The sun had risen by the time I reached my house. I went inside and into the living room. My mother came in, her face full of worry. But her expression turned to that of horror when she saw my father. She stood silent for a few seconds, and then she started crying hysterically.
"What happened? What happened? Is he dead? What happened? Ernst, wake up. Ernst, don't leave me. ERNST!" cried out my mother frantically. She fell onto her knees and started sobbing.
I gently placed my father's body on the couch. I closed his eyes and said to him, "Ruhe in Frieden, Papa."
Mr. Nichelsberg and the old man who they saved walked over to my father's body. They were silent, their eyes full of regret and grief. They knelt and prayed for my father's soul.
Nichts ist wahr, alles ist erlaubt. Those were some of his last words to me. Nothing is true, everything is permitted. The Creed of the Assassins. He died believing in the Creed. He died an Assassin. He died saving me, because I couldn't stay put and disobeyed his orders. He died because I wasn't strong enough to save him. The Templars murdered him, and I will make sure they pay.
My name is Jan Adler. I am an Assassin.
Notes on German Terms
Sturmabteilung - literally "Storm Detachment", they were the paramilitary wing of the early Nazi Party who provided protection for the party, disrupted opposing parties' meetings, fought with the paramilitaries of other parties, and intimidated their targets of persecution such as Jews
Papa - papa (all nouns in German are capitalised)
Hurensohne (sg. Hurensohn) - literally "whoreson"
Schutzstaffel (abbr. SS) - literally "Protection Squadron", they were a major paramilitary wing of the Nazi Party and later became their primary one
Ziel! - "Aim!"
Sohn - son
Bastard (pl. Bastarde) - bastard
Nichts ist wahr, alles ist erlaubt - German translation of the Assassin's Creed "nothing is true, everything is permitted"
Ruhe in Frieden - German equivalent of the phrase "Rest in Peace"