Chapter 4. Asylum Shadows
After the grim task of removing Bert's body from the house, Jacob hurriedly led Effie and Agnes back to the asylum, convinced that her home was no longer safe. The looming threat of Templar agents tracking Bert to their location was too perilous to ignore, and Jacob was resolute in shielding his friends from harm. The Assassin's senses were now heightened to an exhausting degree, on constant alert as he navigated the streets, wary of any Rook member who could either betray him or reveal his hiding place.
Effie's words cut through the tense air, revealing a betrayal that struck Jacob to his core - a sizable faction of the Rooks had abandoned their allegiance, swayed by Bert's venomous lies. Once unwavering in their loyalty, Jacob's gang now stood fractured, seduced by the whispers of treachery and deceit, unwittingly aligning themselves with the very foes they were sworn to defy. In the midst of overwhelming grief, a beacon of hope emerged as Effie revealed that a handful of Rooks still stood unwaveringly by Jacob's side. This loyal bunch had cleverly embedded themselves within Annie Starrick's closest confidants, biding their time with calculated precision for the perfect chance to act if required.
Arriving at their destination, the trio was greeted by a symphony of innocent mirth and the sight of children whose faces were aglow with pure delight. Their eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky, reflecting sheer happiness at the return of their cherished, adopted family members. Agnes, who had become a mother figure to them all, held a special place in their young hearts; her popularity was clear as day when they swarmed around her like bees to honey, arms wide open in anticipation of her comforting embrace. Despite her regular complaints to Jacob about the difficulties she faced in her role, he knew all too well the deep-seated love she harboured for the orphans.
Jacob silently detached himself from the jubilant gathering, his footsteps whispering against the stone floor as he navigated down the corridor towards George's quarters. Pushing open the door, he found George propped up against his pillows in bed. The older man looked significantly healthier than he had been recently - his skin less pallid and his eyes brighter, signs that pointed towards an encouraging recovery.
Jacob settled into a worn chair beside the bed, its leather creaking gently under his weight. He began to relay the new information he had gathered. George listened intently, his face shadowed with concern, and let out a deep sigh when the younger Assassin concluded his report.
"So, the Rooks are theirs now," George said, his voice tinged with regret. "That explains an awful lot." He shook his head slowly, the lines on his face deepening with the weight of past decisions. "And exactly one of the reasons I tried to convince those council fools not to kick them all to the curb. They paid with their lives all because of their unwillingness to see beyond reason."
George's gaze drifted to the window. Afternoon light cast a warm glow across the room. "And another Starrick to contend with?" he pondered, a palpable fatigue lacing his words. "I think I shall retire to the countryside once this is over," he sighed wearily.
Jacob's restless energy propelled him from his chair, causing the room to feel even smaller. "We have the chance to stop this in its tracks before their hold tightens," he asserted with a determined gleam in his eye. "I'll infiltrate their gathering, eliminate their self-proclaimed 'grandmaster,' and it will all come crashing down. The other Templars will scatter like frightened mice, just as they did in the past."
"Jacob, the Rooks know your face well; they'll spot you in an instant," George cautioned.
"Not necessarily," Jacob countered. "Effie mentioned that Annie seldom allows them near the manor; she prefers them guarding the boroughs. Effie attempted to gather more information before Bert came searching for her, but she couldn't get close enough."
George paused to think. "How do you plan to approach her when even her own gang can't get near?"
Mention of 'her' gang sparked a flicker of irritation in Jacob, but he brushed it aside, gazing out the narrow window. "This gathering is all about cementing her influence. I'll pinpoint the key allies she's leaning on and secure an invite from a notable figure. My hunch is she's already entangled with a few government dignitaries."
George's demeanour shifted, his features darkening with concern. "I have reservations about this course of action. Our absent bodies must have raised suspicions, and they will anticipate a retaliation. Besides, the Templar assembly will be formidable, and you'll lack support. We ought to secure a retreat to regroup and plan methodically," he suggested.
Jacob's response was immediate and fiery. "No!" His assertion rang out boldly. "I refuse to flee like a coward. It's time to confront this 'Starrick bastard' head-on," he declared firmly before striding away with determination in his every step.
The resounding echo of the door slamming filled the air, punctuating George's urgent call, "Jacob! Heed my counsel, even if you choose not to follow it. Proceed with care. Underestimating them could imperil us all..."
Jacob's determined stride reverberated down the corridor, his clenched jaw revealing the inner turmoil stirred by George's cautious words. Each syllable grated against his nerves like a blade on flint. While he acknowledged the wisdom in his mentor's advice, patience had always eluded him. Especially now, as his domain slipped through his fingers and treachery threatened to unravel everything he held dear.
1 week later
In the final preparations for her extravagant gathering, Annie Starrick meticulously oversaw every detail with her staff, ensuring the opulent entrance lobby was being arranged to perfection. The room was a work of art, boasting two opulent balconies on either side adorned with luxurious crimson drapes bearing the Templar emblem. These balconies led to a grand staircase that swept down into the heart of the expansive chamber. Positioned at this spot, Annie planned to command attention and address her loyal supporters; hence, it had to radiate flawlessness, emanating both power and magnificence.
Many within the order had not taken kindly to her sudden seizure of power, but she paid their discontent little mind. These dissenters were the same who had scattered like leaves in the wind when her half-brother was murdered. Their personal feelings were inconsequential to her as long as they complied with her commands. And if they dared defy her? Well, some had already experienced her wrath and witnessed first-hand the terrifying capabilities of her monstrous "pet." This fearsome pet had dealt with those Templars who refused Annie's authority in ways that were chillingly creative, serving as a stark reminder of the consequences of disobedience.
The looming gathering was only hours away when Hunter approached Annie, interrupting her thoughts. His hand rested on his hip, a blend of exasperation and concern crossing his features. "This extravagant party is perilous," he warned in a low, serious tone. "Not all the master Assassin bodies have been found, and numerous young initiates are missing. Attending any one of these events could easily be your demise."
Annie defiantly lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh, for heaven's sake, not this again," she retorted with a dismissive gesture. "I assumed you, above all others, would appreciate the notion of drawing in the vermin here."
Hunter's gaze remained unwavering, his expression impassive. "Regardless, you called upon me for protection," he reminded her in a professional and resolute voice. "I am offering you my expert counsel."
Annie's gaze subtly shifted towards the shadowy wall beside her, acknowledging a lurking presence concealed within the darkness. With a nod in the direction of the hidden figure, she exuded an air of assured superiority. "Do you see that shadow there? That formidable silhouette, my ever-watchful protector," she remarked with unwavering confidence. "It appears your primary duty has become irrelevant. Spare me the mundane cautions and instead focus on employing your more thrilling talents, such as dealing with any daring Assassins who may attempt to disrupt our proceedings. However, should that troublesome Frye decide to make an appearance, I implore you to allow my scheme to progress unhindered. It shall provide a captivating spectacle for our esteemed guests. Once we have savoured our entertainment, you may attend to him... whatever remains."
Annie's laughter, tinged with subtle mockery, rippled through the air as she elegantly departed for her chambers. Her steps, like whispers on the polished floor, faded into the distance. Hunter's intense gaze lingered on her vanishing form briefly before returning to the lurking shadow, a vigilant protector blending seamlessly into the darkness.
Jacob felt the cab's gradual stop, a slight bump snapping him back to reality. Peering out the window, he observed as his driver handed the intricate invitation to the guard stationed at the imposing wrought-iron gates of the manor. Dressed in a crisply tailored uniform, the gatekeeper inspected the invitation under the warm glow of lantern light before giving a satisfied nod. With a subtle wave, he motioned them forward, and the cab commenced its ascent up the gentle slope leading to the manor's courtyard. The pathway was bordered by meticulously trimmed hedges and lanterns that danced with flickering flames, painting delicate shadows on the gravel below.
As they entered the courtyard, Jacob's gaze swept across the scene. A multitude of carriages, each more extravagant than the previous one, were scattered around, their gleaming exteriors catching the last rays of the setting sun. The cab halted decisively, prompting Jacob to step out, drawing in a deep breath that sharpened his awareness. His senses heightened, he scanned the area, recognizing Templars and their supporters by their distinct garb and vigilant postures. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation and a subtle undercurrent of tension. Engaging in this mission was undeniably risky, yet Jacob's reservoir of patience had run dry. In moments like these—fleeting and precious—he knew decisive action was imperative and that such favourable circumstances might not present themselves in the near future.
From his lofty perch atop the western wing, Hunter's sharp eyes scanned the lively activity unfolding below. The panorama spread out before him, capturing his attention as he honed in on a young man navigating through the throng with determined strides. Every detail of the figure resonated with the descriptions Hunter had meticulously memorized of the notorious Master Assassin, Jacob Frye. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him at the sight. Without a moment's delay, he pivoted towards a Templar scout stationed nearby, his tone laced with urgency as he commanded swift dispatch of a detailed message to Annie.
Hunter's attention returned to the young Assassin, who was now intently examining a hay cart stationed beneath a window. The unassuming cart sat quietly amidst the bustling courtyard, its significance not escaping Hunter's keen eye. A subtle smirk played at the edges of his mouth, a glint of anticipation replacing his usual stoic mask. "Ah, considering your options for escape, I see," he remarked with a chilling edge to his tone. "How thoughtful of you..." he murmured softly to himself
Jacob's deliberate steps carried him closer to the majestic manor, its ancient stones reaching towards the darkening sky. The imposing structure towered over him, casting elongated shadows that danced along the path as he neared the bustling entrance. Inside, a symphony of hushed conversations and clinking glasses filled the air. He adjusted his top hat, pulling its brim lower to shield his eyes, his other hand instinctively curling within the worn leather of his trusty gauntlet. Vigilant and cautious, his sharp gaze swept across the room, keen on blending into the lively crowd unnoticed.
His heart lurched in his chest, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through him as his mark glided down the staircase. Her icy blue eyes swept across the room, assessing each guest with a sharp, calculating gaze. At her side loomed a cloaked silhouette, the dark fabric draping elegantly to the ground, emanating an air of enigmatic threat. An uncanny sense of recognition washed over him at the sight of this figure, a prickling sensation that tingled down his back, setting his nerves on edge.
Determined to reach his target, Jacob forged ahead through the throng of guests. Suddenly, the mysterious figure in the cloak lifted an arm and pointed with a finger directly at him. His advance halted as he met Annie's icy stare. Reacting on instinct, he raised his pistol, poised for action. However, the figure swiftly positioned themselves in his line of sight like an unyielding barrier.
With a regal air, Annie emerged gracefully from beside the cloaked figure. Her voice sliced through the chatter, commanding attention, "Ladies and gentlemen! Let us give a warm welcome to our esteemed guest, Master Jacob Frye." Her words resonated above the din, causing the crowd to part before him like a curtain drawing back, exposing him to all eyes present.
In a swift motion, Jacob tossed aside his hat, baring his identity, and swiftly raised his hood, cloaking himself in mystery while Annie's words echoed through the room. "Behold the star of our show! A spectacle I trust you will relish as much as I." Her tone dripped with a chilling anticipation.
The guests murmured, a mix of intrigue and apprehension rippling through the audience. Jacob's heart raced as he found himself thrust into the spotlight, his instincts screaming at him to retreat. Yet, the fire burning in his chest urged him forward. He would not back down; not now, not after coming so far.
Annie's lips curled into a shrewd smirk, her frosty blue eyes glinting with wicked delight. "Kill him," she murmured, her words slithering out like a poisonous whisper, intended for the hooded figure lurking beside her. The silhouette commenced its descent down the opulent staircase; each footfall resonated with a bone-chilling determination as unyielding as steel.
Beneath his worn pistol, Jacob's hand tightened marginally, bracing himself to confront this fresh menace. But as the figure reached up to draw back her hood, unveiling a familiar face beneath its cloak, an involuntary gasp tore from him. It hit him with all the intensity of a lightning strike, leaving him shocked to his core. His voice was barely a murmur when he breathed out "Evie?" into the reverberating quiet of their standoff.
