(Short Stories) Tales of Assassins (Short Story Number 2)

[TheDarkKnight]

Based on events and characters from both history and Assassin's Creed II. This is an experiment for me, and I have spent several hours researching and writing and re-writing this.

Tale of a Roman Assassin

Tale of an Assassin Leonius moved from corridor to corridor, quietly and quickly. He had so far managed to avoid the patrols of guards that roamed the palace. He was grateful for that, for he did not wish to have to turn as few women widow than what was required of his mission. After several months of deliberating, the decision had finally been made: the Emperor of Rome known as Caligula was to die. Leonius was the one his brothers had entrusted for this crucial mission, and he had nearly failed them earlier. Caligula had made an appearance earlier at the Circus Maximus to enjoy the variety of entertainment that the day had to offer, and Leonius had nearly made his move then. But Leonius, mere seconds away from accomplishing such a purpose, stayed his hand: he realized that such a public place, surrounded by perhaps two dozen or more of Caligula’s fearsome Germanic guards, would surely spell the death or capture of Leonius. He could not afford either. So he had waited. Surely, Caligula would eventually retire from the day and return to the palace. It would not be as public as the Assassin’s wished, but the seclusion would allow a greater chance of success. He had infiltrated the palace unnoticed and was now looking for the underground passageway that connected the Circus Maximus to the palace, exclusively used by the emperor and his companions. If Leonius could find the passageway, the narrow and relatively dark environment would work to Leonius’ advantage. But he still had to find it. At a distance, Leonius was quite inconspicuous. He wore a long set of robes that made him appear quite ordinary and harmless, if not out of place in the palace. But underneath, the assassin was far from vulnerable. Leonius’ robes concealed his gladius and his pugio, two blades that Leonius had become very adept in during his training to join the Roman brotherhood. He also wore lorica hamata underneath his robes, armor that protected him while also allowing him to freely move. But his sword, dagger, and armor paled in comparison to the weapon that made the Assassins notorious in their deeds: a hidden blade, concealed underneath a bracer on his left arm. The blade was retractable, allowing him and other Assassin’s the opportunity to quickly and stealthily dispose of their marks and be gone before the last breath escaped their victim’s lips. It was this blade that Leonius had intended on using on Caligula at the Circus Maximus, but the sight of so many guards and the realization of likely failure left Leonius’ concealed blade unwetted. He gazed down at his bracer as he walked, at his hand, the missing finger. A mark of devotion to the cause of the Brotherhood, as well as a necessary mutilation for the operation of the blade. Leonius’ footsteps on the marbled floor echoed throughout the hallway, despite his best attempts to remain light on his feet. A nearby guard would have to be deaf to not hear him, Leonius thought. How he had not been discovered yet by anyone, guard or otherwise, astounded him. Leonius reached another intersection of corridors, still at a loss for where the passageway was. On the verge of despair, Leonius’ gift of great sight allowed him to see a trail…a trail of blood. Faint, much of it swept away in haste, leading down the right corridor. Leonius’ curiosity led him to follow it, leading him to another intersection of corridors. The trail led left, and finally, Leonius found the passageway. After a short descent down a flight of stairs, the assassin was finally where he wanted to be. The passageway was illuminated by a number of portals in the ceiling, as well as the exit about three hundred pes away. Leonius could hear the sound of commotion outside, cheering. The entertainment at the Circus Maximus, no doubt, he thought. A slight smell was in the air, a smell of death. Turning left, Leonius found a body stuffed into a nook, a body that looked like that of a female servant. Her chest was punctured, a small wound just under her breast. Her eyes were wide open, and Leonius knelt, reached out to close them. A soft yet harsh sound echoed off the walls of the passageway…the sound of steel being drawn… Springing to his feet, Leonius turned and managed to dodge as a blade swung, striking the stone of the walls instead of the flesh of the assassin. Leonius countered, using his right hand to grab the arm of the attacker and the left to punch his face, sending the attacker to the ground. Another sword came for Leonius, the assassin again dodging. He lunged for the man, clasping him by the throat and pushing him against the opposite wall. He held the man against the wall with his right hand as he activated his hidden blade, the blade extending from his left bracer. As he was about to finish the man, a voice cried out. “Assassin, stay your blade!” The forcefulness of the command made Leonius pause, and he looked to the sound of the voice, a man emerging from the shadows. “Assassin, I am Cassius Chaerea of the Praetorian Guard. Please, release my man. We thought you were here to stop us, but now I believe we are here for the same purpose.” Leonius, releasing the man and retracting his blade, cautiously spoke. “What purpose is that, Chaerea?” After taking a long breath, Chaerea began. “For several years our dear emperor has run our people into debt with his expansive construction projects. Many of the projects have been of benefit to the people, but most have been for himself. From expanding the imperial palace, to building giant ships on Lake Nemi that serve no useful purpose, his desires have greatly harmed the empire. In addition, Caligula has exiled or executed many high ranking Roman nobles, and oppressed and humiliated many others. He is an insane tyrant, one who thinks of himself a god, and one that must be struck down. My men and I are here to ensure that happens, and more should be joining us soon. ” Leonius heard these words, spoke “Chaerea, you were correct to assume that we are of like mind. My brotherhood had concluded much the same two days ago. I, Leonius, was selected to carry out the mission. But I must ask, I suspect that you, being a Praetorian Guard, must have more motives to wish the death of Caligula. Is that the case? I only wish to know the heart of the man who calls me ally in this conspiracy.” Chaerea was silent. Leonius suspected he had touched a nerve with his query. Finally, the man spoke “It is true that I have many personal motives. The man has insulted me, an officer of the Praetorian Guard, on numerous occasions. From calling me effeminate to making me use watchwords such as Priapus in order to humiliate me. But believe me when I say that I, my men, and the others all wish to see the end of Caligula for reasons beyond our own personal ones.” Leonius responded “The others? You mean there are more that share your desires?” The other two men were now facing towards the exit, waiting. Chaerea continued. “Many more…Senators and equestrians mostly, and some will be joining us shortly.” The flurry of footsteps coming down the stairs seemed all too well timed. Leonius turned in time to see five men reach the bottom of the stairs, and rapidly four became nine. One of the men spoke. “Chaerea, I am glad to see you here. We were concerned…who is this?” “Senator, this is Leonius. He is here to help.” Leonius’ eyes turned towards the body in the recess. “Not quite yet, Chaerea. I have one more question. What is the meaning behind the dead servant?” Chaerea gazed towards the body as well, sadness clouding his face and voice. “Ah, a dreadful thing. She encountered us in the palace several corridors before the stairs, and in her fear she ran. She was carrying a platter full of various utensils, one of which was a knife. In her haste, she tripped and fell on the blade. We did not wish her harm, we tried to save her. But the wound…it was mortal. We carried her body here, hid it, and hoped to bury her upon the completion of this deed. Chaerea’s men nodded in agreement. Leonius could sense no falseness in Chaerea’s voice. “Very well, Chaerea. What are your plans?” Chaerea took a deep breath. “We will hide in the various niches of the passageway and await the arrival of Caligula. Whether or not he has his guards with him or not, we will accost him here, my men distracting the guards long enough for me to inflict mortal wound on the emperor. We will then flee, and hope to live to see another dawn…” -- They waited for half an hour. During that time Chaerea’s two men had apologized to Leonius for their assault on him, and Leonius responding in kind. But mostly, he remained silent while the other men talked quietly. Eventually, a wave of very loud cheers erupted from outside. Chaerea spoke up “That is likely the crowd cheering for the Emperor. I believe he is retiring for the day. Prepare yourselves.” Within a few moments, a figure appeared at the exit, a silhouette against the light. He was alone. Chaerea whispered “That’s him.” The man made his way down the passageway, oblivious to what lay ahead. As he got closer, Leonius took note of Caligula: he was not an imposing figure, nor was he slight. He was rather average looking for someone from such an esteemed family. He was close now, very close. Leonius gazed back at Chaerea. He could see fear in his eyes, hesitation, perhaps doubt. Whatever the reason, Leonius saw weakness. He had to act. In one swift motion, Leonius emerged from his hiding place, and charged. The sudden motion startled the emperor, shouting profanities and screaming for guards. His loud voice would surely draw attention…he should not have charged ahead. Only feet away from the emperor now, Leonius drew his pugio and activated his hidden blade. Caligula raised his arms in defense, ready to receive him. Leonius, in mid-sprint, jumped through the air, bringing his hidden blade down towards Caligula. Surprisingly, the emperor was able to deftly avoid the blow, but he did not escape the secondary thrust of the assassin’s pugio. The blade penetrated the abdomen of Caligula, tearing through flesh and muscle. The force of the blow combined with the momentum forced both Leonius and the emperor to the ground. The emperor let out a cry of pain as Leonius climbed off of him, withdrawing his blade and pulling his hood down to reveal his face to the young emperor. Blood pooled around the wound as the emperor tried to speak. “You think…that you have killed me? I am a god among men, and your blade will not…stop me…” he said, rising slightly, resting on his knees Chaerea appeared behind Leonius, followed by the rest of the men, who surrounded the emperor. “No, Emperor, but mine might”. Shock spread across the emperor’s face. “You!? You are nothing! You are weak…” Caligula exclaimed, shortly before Chaerea’s dagger plunged into Caligula’s chest. The rest of the men followed suit, thrusting their blades in and out of the tyrant on his knees. Finally, the emperor was sputtering blood and back on the ground. Chaerea spat on the still living Caligula before kneeling to the ground. “No emperor, you are weak. You are as weak as your hold on this empire, which has ended.” Chaerea whispered, thrusting his blade into Caligula’s heart, life fleeing from the emperor. Chaerea rose. “It is done. We best get a move on, for our work is not yet done.” The rest nodded in agreement. “What do you mean? The emperor is dead.” Leonius said as he sheathed his pugio and retracted his blade. “Indeed, assassin, but as long as the emperor’s family still lives the taint of Caligula shall never be completed cleansed. We must strike now at Caesonia, Caligula’s wife, as well as their daughter Julia.” Chaerea stated, his tone turning harsh. Leonius could not believe his ears. “You wish to kill the wife of this madman as well as his infant daughter? Did I just kill a monster, or create another? I will not help you in this endeavor; I will not help you slaughter innocents” he said. At this, Caligula’s guards appeared at the exit of the passageway, as well as at the top of the stairway. The cries of the emperor had finally found ears, and those ears were now charging towards the group of men from both sides of the passageway. Leonius witnessed the triumphant faces of the assassins suddenly turn to fear. Chaerea spoke up again. “Whether you agree with our future plans or not, Assassin, do not let us be overwhelmed by Caligula’s guards. Please, help us.” Leonius turned away from the group and began walking towards the exit, his back facing the conspirators. He jogged towards the exit, charging the roaring guards. “Leonius!? LEONIUS!” he heard behind him, and a commotion as the men engaged in battle with the guards that had already reached them from the stairs. Leonius drew his gladius and extended his blade, ready for the first guard. He repeated the movement he used against Caligula, succeeding this time. His blade sunk into the guard’s neck, forcing them both to the ground, and Leonius sprung forward from kneeling, thrusting the gladius towards the next running guard. The guard slowed, but not enough. The tip of Leonius’ sword nicked the man’s throat, blood spilling to the ground. The guard fell to his knees, raising his hands to his wound, attempting to stop the bleeding. Leonius ended his suffering, pushing his smaller blade into the man’s heart. More guards were coming towards him, and he continued his run. Two of the guards ran abreast of each other, and Leonius jumped sideways in mid-sprint, propelling himself off the wall. The sudden change of direction of Leonius’ movement took the two guards by surprise, and both were unable to stop Leonius from piercing them both with his blades. Both fell with a grunt, and Leonius continued, slashing at two more attacking guards, wounding them both. His gladius and hidden blade took several more lives, before no more guards were left before him. His way was clear, and he was almost to the exit. He heard behind him “LEONIUS! PLEASE!”. The plea made him slow, turn around. He stood silhouetted against the sunlight that illuminated the exit. He could not see the battle that raged at the other end of the tunnel, but he imagined that the conspirators were not faring well against the guards. He felt little remorse for leaving them to their fate…their lives were not his concern. He sheathed his sword and withdrew his hidden blade, and turned and fled into the sunlight, into the crowds of the Circus Maximus, the people ignorant as to the fact that their emperor, their tyrant, was dead. -- Leonius later learned that Chaerea and the others had escaped, and later murdered both the wife and daughter of Caligula. Unfortunately for the conspirators, Chaerea did not command the complete loyalty of his fellow Praetorians, who proclaimed Caligula’s uncle Claudius as the new emperor. Chaerea was later sentenced to death, and he was executed with the weapon that he had used in the assassination. Claudius ruled for thirteen years, and was succeeded by Nero, who would become a nightmare of a ruler for the Empire in his own right…

[Rex Anglorvm]

Thats your best work so far GC, very good writing indeed I found it an enthralling read

Rep+ from me

[TheDarkKnight]

Not quite sure if a compliment towards my newest written work or an insult towards my previously written work...

[Rex Anglorvm]

Not quite sure if a compliment towards my newest written work or an insult towards my previously written work...

More the former than the later

My friend you are on an upward trajectory A writer should always be seeking to improve their work

[TheDarkKnight]

Well I wrote this as an experiment towards future such stories (perhaps even a serial), and I had history as well as just a mention of this in Assassin's Creed II to draw on. I was hoping to get a thousand or so words out of this...Did not expect 2,600 words.


Just wanted to get a feel for some reactions from people...and by people, I mean my whole four known fans

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

I've added this to the Hall.

(still have to read it! )

[TheDarkKnight]

If you haven't read it, how do you know it's worthy of adding?

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

If you haven't read it, how do you know it's worthy of adding?

Everything finished is added to the Hall.

[Tigellinus]

I love Assassins and the AC series! You have a great writing style!

+rep!

[TheDarkKnight]

Well, get to reading it

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Yeah really good job mate, come far from that first Aron update.

+rep for the great read.

[TheDarkKnight]

Well given the response to this, there actually may be another short story to come. If I decide to do it, it will be based around another Assassin mentioned in the game series. I'm not entirely sure I could make some of those other stories as exciting as this one, but I will try.

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

I'll look forward to it.

[TheDarkKnight]

Okay guys I have a question.

I promised to write a sequel and it will still happen (when, I don't know, trying to find the time for House Divided and Tale of Aron) and I'm fairly certain about the time period, setting, characters and all that. But I am also hoping to maybe write a third short story. I don't have any ideas for it so I'm hoping to get some from you guys.

So what I'm looking for is, if you wanted to see a completely original story, where and when would you want it located? I obviously can't guarantee your selection would be chosen, but I will try to make sure what I do choose is well written and hopefully authentic towards the spirit of this game franchise.

[TheDarkKnight]

Assassin Story Number Two

Tales of an Assassin 2 The large man slipped through the dark hallways of the house, careful to not be discovered by any of the inhabitants. He had come too far to fail in his mission now, and if the alarm was raised, the whole island would be searching for him. While he was still robust, still a warrior, he was old, too old to handle such a fight, a fight he knew he would not be able to win. After several minutes of searching for the right room, he found it. The door was slightly ajar, and he entered the bed chamber. A quick look around the room made it clear his target was in there, alone and asleep. The man inched over to the bed; going around the foot of it to be sure it was the one he sought. Pale moonlight shone through the window, revealing that it was indeed the one he had been after for nearly two decades: Napoleon Bonaparte. The large man hovered over him…At last, I have you. After so many years, Connor had finally found him. Only, Connor was not his real name: he was Ratonhnhaké:ton, and he was an Assassin. Over two decades before, Connor had traveled to France to witness the growing fervor in France, a fervor that soon boiled into revolution. The French, tired of their monarchy, overthrew them, beheading their king and queen with such mad fury the likes of which Connor had never seen. He had participated in the assault on the Bastille, as well as numerous other smaller events. Revolutionary spirit was alive and well in France, and soon the French had rallied behind a new leader: A young Corsican named Napoleon. However, Connor soon realized that the charismatic leader, who promised to bring great armies to the enemies of France, had a dark side. Connor suspected, rightly so, that Napoleon had access to a piece of Eden, an Apple that gave him such great power that he was able to easily expand the lands of the France. It was after Napoleon had been crowned Emperor that Connor decided that Napoleon had to be assassinated. As Mentor of the Order in America, Connor could have sent any number of men to Europe to do it. But instead, Connor entrusted the order to Aveline de Grandpre, and returned to France. What followed was year after year of Connor following Napoleon throughout Europe. He had attempted on numerous occasions to kill the Corsican, each time failing and only barely escaping with his life. He had participated in numerous battles on the sides of the Coalitions, aiding the Austrians, the Prussians, even the British, in hopes of reigning in Napoleon’s power. Napoleon’s defeat and subsequent exile to Elba finally allowed Connor to go home after years in Europe. However, he was soon forced to return to Europe when news reached America that Napoleon had returned from Elba to begin anew. Connor rushed to Europe, returning just in time to pledge his services to the Duke of Wellington. The defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo did not bring the mortal end of Napoleon…The emperor was exiled to the island of St. Helena, isolated in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. He had tried one final time to assassinate Napoleon before he boarded the ship but it was to no avail. Believing that Napoleon was finally beaten, Apple or not, Connor returned home, hoping to live out the rest of his years in solitude. He was in his sixties now, and while still in good shape, he was far from the man that he once was. However, Connor dreamed frequently of what would happen if Napoleon had ever somehow returned to power again…he could still use the Apple to bring war once again to Europe. Years of effort had finally brought him here. His blades and tomahawk had known the blood of many Frenchmen, but finally had the chance to be wetted with the blood of the emperor. Now he stood over the object of his years-long pursuits and wondered, was this it? Was this finally the moment he had been waiting for? The emperor suddenly stirred, coughing vigorously. Connor extended his hidden blades, the blades his mentor Achilles had given him decades earlier, ready to finish the man off. Napoleon opened his eyes at the sound of the extending blades, staring blankly at the shadowy figure in the room. “Are you here…to kill me?” the emperor asked weakly in French. Connor ignored the question. “Where is the Apple?” Connor responded. He had learned French throughout his travels Napoleon laughed. “The what?” Connor roared in a whispering tone “The Apple! Your golden orb that allows you to command the minds of men.” Napoleon laughed again. “Gone…It is gone. A young British officer ransacked my belongings before I left the Continent, and he took it as a prize. I imagine a gold-colored orb was quite enticing to the man. I do not know his name.” “How can I be sure you are telling the truth?” Connor asked. He gazed into the weak eyes…the emperor was sick. Very sick. Napoleon laughed again, this time coughing up some blood. He sat up weakly, the movement taking its toll. “Look at me…If I still had it, do you think I would be here still on this wretched island in the middle of the Atlantic? If I still possessed the Apple, I would not have stayed here for long…I would have left years ago. I would have disappeared into the night, compelling others to help me escape to the Americas, where I would live out my life as an unknown. Instead, here I lay, dying.” Connor withdrew his hidden blades at the words…Napoleon was dying? He was only in his fifties…younger than Connor. He examined the former emperor; Napoleon was not the man he once was. He was pale, weak, and his complexion yielded everything Connor needed to know. Napoleon was indeed not well, and perhaps had very little time left. He believed the words of Napoleon…Connor doubted the emperor would have remained on St. Helena for long if he still had the Apple. “You are a bit old to still be an Assassin, are you not?” Napoleon inquired. Connor was taken aback by the remark “You can thank yourself for that, Emperor. Because of you and your ambitions, I have not been able to live peacefully for many years. For over two decades I have hunted you, came so close and yet always remained at a distance. You were like trying to grasp smoke, your personal guard always at the ready. Yet when you fell after your campaign in Russia, and were exiled to Elba, I had hoped you were finished. Yet you returned, remarkably so, yet still defeated in one hundred days. You were able to escape with the Apple, am I correct?” Napoleon nodded. “Spare me your lecture. I am not interested in hearing, yet again, why I am…here.” The emperor’s eyes focused on Connor, examining his features, prevalent even in the relative darkness. “Your characteristics are…interesting, Assassin. To which tribe do you hail from?” Connor was surprised by the question. He was even more surprised by the fact that he was still talking to the man…why had he not finished the deed and escaped into the night? “I am Kanien'kehá:ka, or Mohawk as you Europeans wish to designate me as. My father, however, was an Englishman…Why do you ask?” Napoleon grinned weakly. “I had always hoped that if I were to die, I would know the hand that did it. You know, you were not the only one to pursue me. Throughout my wars on the Continent my guards killed well over a dozen of your order. German, British, even a couple of Russians. The most persistent were the Assassin’s among my own countrymen, the French bureau was particularly insistent on my death, it seems...Yet you, a man of America, managed to slip through the grasp of my men for twenty years. I had heard tales of you, come to think about it, whispers of a dark-skinned ghost that would leave a pile of bodies behind everywhere he thought I was, yet only just missed.” The emperor softly looked at Connor now, his voice coming out eerily quiet. “Tell me, how many men did you kill? How many French died in your quest for my life?” Connor could not remember. In the nearly fifty years of him being an Assassin, he had killed many men. After such a long time, and after so many, they all blended together. “I am not certain. But I regret their deaths as much as I regret any other. I have killed many men in my lifetime, Emperor. Whether they were European, American, or even those of my own tribe…I have killed so many. And their deaths haunt me. Even those that my Creed demand I kill, their deaths haunt me. I never wanted this life, this purpose, but when Juno…” he paused, unsure of what to say. There was no need to occupy the emperor with tales of what Connor knew, of what that mysterious woman had entrusted Connor to do. His thoughts turned to his father, his friends…they were mostly gone now. Even now, after all this time, he was still troubled by what he had been forced to do in the name of his beliefs. Over the years he saw friends come and go; every original assassin that Connor had trained were now gone. Aveline, nearly a decade older than Connor, was near the end of her life. And now, at the end of it all, has it really all mattered? “There is much horror in your life, Assassin. I can see it in your eyes. There was much in mine as well. The device…the Apple. It changed me…it made me who I was. You do not understand its power…and you never will.” But Connor did understand. Long ago he had envisioned the nightmare of what an Apple could do to even good men… “Your fight is done. Finish me and go home in peace. Please…” Napoleon said, motioning towards the tomahawk. “Do not use that weapon. Do what you must do…but please do not use such a weapon on me. Let me die with grace, not murdered by a glorified woodcutter’s axe.” Connor, coming out of his thoughts, glanced down at the tomahawk. He looked back at the dying emperor and nodded. Napoleon gently let himself fall back towards his pillow, preparing himself. Connor approached the bed, extending his right hidden blade. He pressed the tip against Napoleon’s throat, held it there, as the man closed his eyes, ready for the blade to pierce his neck. It would be a quick death… In that moment, Connor was hesitant. Here was Napoleon, the man responsible for a generation of warfare in Europe. Hundreds of thousands of men had died due to his actions…yet here he was, sick, weak, and dying. His strength of will was gone. His army was gone. His power, through the Apple, was gone. Everything that made Napoleon was no more…He was a shell of his former self. Connor withdrew his blade, the sound of which made Napoleon flinch. He opened his eyes and stared at the man towering above him. Connor nodded at him, and turned towards the window. “Wait …Why do you spare me?” Connor turned back. “Napoleon, you are not an evil man…just a man blinded by his own ambition. You attempted to create a French empire, twice, and lost both times. Your use of the Apple is what made you powerful, what helped you nearly realize this goal, yet without it, you are a simple, albeit weakened, man. I see no purpose in killing you anymore. I am sparing you because I pity you and what you have become. Your days are numbered…I suggest you use them wisely.” Connor turned to leave again, opening the window, feeling the cool ocean breeze of the island. Napoleon spoke again. “Assassin…please, at least tell me your name.” Connor stopped…Assassin. For over five decades he had lived in the shadows. That life was over now. Connor turned one final time. He removed his hood, showing his face to the emperor. “My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton…and I am no longer an Assassin.” And with that, Ratonhnhaké:ton slipped through the open window and disappeared into the night.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it.

[TheDarkKnight]

Hmm...Did no one ever read the second story?

Well I am thinking of maybe writing another one of these sometime in the future. No idea what setting or so but it should be okay.

[Rex Anglorvm]

Gen Chris, I've just read the second story, a great tale you have there, I really enjoyed it. I don't know how its been missed, but its certainly worth a read!

Rep+

[Dance]

Who would of thought that little native boy would grow up to have such a civilized conversation with arguably the most famous person of his day!

Interesting tale

+Rep