Assassin's Creed 1. Prologue

**Author's Notes - Hi this is my first fic so any constructive criticism is much appreciated**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Assassin's Creed or Abstergo, Vidic etc. however Rose is mine yaay :D**

Prologue

Rose Campbell had worked for Abstergo Industries for nearly 3 years now, she'd started as an intern to work off her tuition fees at the local college, she was fascinated by the sciences of genealogy and was thrilled that she had the chance to work at Abstergo – quite possibly, the world's largest genetic research facility – even if it was only as a receptionist for 2 years. After finishing her internship, Vidic (assumingly impressed by what he'd seen) personally offered her a full=time job as an assistant, and, unsurprisingly, she took the job, and never regretted it – until today that is.

Tuesday the 18th started pretty much the same as any other day for Rose; she woke excitedly at 7:00am, showered, tied her long flowing golden hair into a messy bun, threw on a business suit and hurried to work, eager to begin her day, blissfully unaware that today would change her life forever. When she arrived that day, she made her way up to Vidic's office, checked in, and proceeded up to the animus chamber, where she prepped the machine for use, ran vital scans, and calmly assured Subject 13 that today would go smoothly and that they'd find what they needed from his memory and he'd be free – all lies – but Abstergo came first and the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, right?

The morning passed fairly quickly, a few episodes as Subject 13 tried to escape from the animus, but Rose (or more specifically, her electric shock baton) ensured order was restored, completely unaware that Vidic was no longer watching Subject 13's vital signs, but rather his gaze was affixed upon her, her cruel efficiency and unwavering dedication to the cause – there was something special about her, he wasn't quite sure, but he knew taking her on would prove useful, and possibly critical in winning the war against the assassins.

Lunchtime came quickly, and whilst dining with her colleagues Rose was called without warning back up to the animus chamber, perplexed by this revelation, she cautiously, yet hastily, headed back up to the chamber, whereupon a dreadful sight lay before her, Subject 13 lying dead next to the animus, gun in hand and a hole in his head – it had seemed that she'd forgotten to lock the door to his chamber on her way down to the cafeteria and he'd escaped and found Vidic's gun in his desk – she really had no idea of the mental and physical anguish he'd been put through all the years Abstergo had kept him here, but it must have been horrific if he'd chosen to do this to himself rather than go through with another day.

The automatic door shot open behind Rose, scaring her half to death in the process, she pirouetted on the spot to see who it was, it was Vidic, who calmly strolled into the chamber, seemingly unaffected by the bloody corpse on the beautiful pristine floor, she tried to speak but words failed her, she was in shock, he however, you'd think was unaware of what happened. Vidic knelt next to the corpse and picked up his gun, after playing with it for a few seconds (and unbeknownst to Rose, loading another bullet in the chamber) Rose tried to muster some words, but what came out was a spluttered mix of confusion and fear – however it didn't matter as Vidic quickly silenced her by pointing the gun in her face.

'Get in the animus, NOW!' Vidic screamed at her, flailing his free hand wildly in a fist, gripped by shock and fear, she did as instructed and made her way to the animus and lay down upon it.

'I've been watching you closely these past few years, Rose, and I think that you have assassin blood in you, which means your of use to me, and if not, well I'm sure that you won't mind joining Subject 13 in the human incinerator later this evening would you now?' Vidic mocked her, playfully toying with his gun and occasionally pointing it at her so he could enjoy bouts of sobs 'Ah! Here we go, you have an assassin ancestor in the year 1066, Mercia Aethelgrad, ok Rose I'm going to make this very simple for you – Go into your ancestor's memories, find us the information on where the Saxons have buried the Pieces of Eden – or, you die'

**Thanks for reading :)**


	2. The Legend Begins

**A/N – Thank you to my only reviewer up to this point Maryandmerlin, for the positive comments **

**Disclaimer – Apart from the franchise of Assassin's Creed, most things in this chapter are mine :D**

Chapter 1: The Legend Begins

_* Rose's POV *_

'_Fuck! My head... how much did I have to drink last night? Ugggh'_

_I couldn't even force my eyes open, there was just the most horrible pain pounding, throbbing inside my brain then off the walls of my cranium then back again – I couldn't even remember drinking last night – what the hell happened! _

_Slowly, I started to become aware of my body, and unfortunately for me, I felt like I'd been hit by a train; I couldn't move any of my muscles at all, not even muster the strength to pry my eyelids open and look around me, I just lay there, a horrible resounding pain drumming in my head, my face felt like it was on sandpaper, instinctively I rubbed my cheek against whatever I was lying, well, until I felt blood trickle down and come between skin and ... sandpaper?_

_Gathering up a reserve of strength I tossed onto my side, sending sharp stabbing pains all up my back, by this point I realised I wasn't going anywhere, trying to prop myself up would be more useless than Custer's last stand, so I tried to sink into this... bed? Felt more like I'd gone to sleep on a horrible itchy carpet, but that was irrelevant, momentary relax came before the drumming started again, pounding upon my sinuses like a heavy metal drum solo, fists clenched, toes curled, I drew upon a final reserve of energy and thrashed pitifully at the air around me, causing me to fall from whatever I was lying from and onto hard, earthy ground. That was the wake-up call I needed._

_Wracking in pain from the collision, I writhed on the floor clawing at the ground around me, ignoring the pain I fought my natural instincts and forced myself into a sitting position, and after a few seconds of teetered balanced finding I managed to retain this position – Now just to open my eyes and see... my garden I had hoped._

_But, no, it was definitely not my garden that awaited my eyes._

_I looked around, I saw hardened, muddy ground around me, I trailed the ground with my eyes until it reached the wooden log walls of whatever building I was in, It seemed to be a barn of some description – a suspicion which was confirmed when I looked behind me and saw towers of neatly bundled haystacks. Using the hay as a prop, I slowly used my legs to prop myself up, and grabbing from the bundles I managed to pull myself to my feet, and upon taking a few staggered steps forward managed to find my feet and confidently (or atleast somewhat) towards the opening to this enclosure, only to be met by an overenthusiastic border collie pup who squatted at my feet._

_Intrigued and bemused I examined the small dog, who looked up at me with a face, half white and half black, big glistening brown eyes, twitching ears and a tongue which couldn't stop protruding as the young hound was clearly very excited to see me by the amount of panting he was doing. Although I've never owned a dog in my life, I feel like somehow this dog belongs to me, so I (with a fair amount of struggling) bent down and picked him up, scooping him up into my arms like a little baby, he then proceeded to snuggle into my shoulder, breathing warm soothing breaths across my neck making me feel loved and I giggled, completely oblivious to the bizarreness of the situation._

_Sleeping pup cradled in my arms I proceeded to step outside, and after nearly being blinded by the piercing radiance of the midday sun, my eyes slowly adjusted to my surroundings, which, to my absolute astonishment, was opposite an old monastery, surrounded by trees in all directions as far as the eyes could see, trotting slowly across the pebbled ground I made way up to the grand oak door of the abbey, which, before I could even reposition the dog and dare to knock, the doors slowly creaked and groaned before swinging open with great aplomb – revealing a robed man, who simply said to me:_

'_Welcome Mercia, I've been waiting for you' _

_* End of POV *_

Mercia was completely flabbergasted, and before even attempting to splutter her words, was beckoned inside by the druid-like figure, despite all her mothers warnings about strangers, she obediently followed the white moving cloak with man inside.

The abbey was beautiful from the inside, more so than from outside, ornately engraved stone pillars ran up the length of the long corridor in which she followed him, her natural curiosity getting the better of her again, she stared intently at each engraved picture she came across, but to her surprise, instead of finding angels, and shepards and other religious icons, she instead saw engravings of mysterious hooded figures, eagles and mysterious treasures. Unfortunately she couldn't read the inscriptions, as they were in Celtic, or atleast some other old forgotten language, out the corner of her eye she saw the cloaked figure waiting for her at the end of the hallway, and hastily - or atleast as hastily as her weakened physical state would allow – bounded towards him, filled with intrigue and whimsy.

He gazed upon her, with greyish yellow eyes that seemed weary and tired of the world, he saw something in this girl, underneath her childish behaviour he could tell that she had the potential to be a powerful fighter, she just needed to unlock her hidden talents, turning back towards the door he produced a rusted metal key and inserted it into a hole in the door, after producing a horrible, ear-splitting screech it gave way and unlocked, sliding open (of course creaking and groaning throughout the whole process) giving Mercia a view to the main room of the abbey.

It was amazing, 4 stone pillars emerged from the corners of the room supporting the slate roof, a magnificent stained glass window illuminating the room with its unearthly light like some kind of odd angelic disco ball, shining down upon a luxurious red trimmed purple carpet, with a decorative sun in the middle. After taking in her surroundings, she turned to the hooded man, who cut her off and slowly wandered into the centre of the room; he then turned to her, and spoke.

'Mercia, I've been waiting for you a while now, it seems only fitting that the daughter of my closest friend has came back to learn the secrets of our art...' His voice cut deep, it was low and reverberated around the room, trapping her within his bounds, suddenly he seemed so powerful, like behind the cloak there was actually a malevolent force of some kind, she shrugged this theory off and continued listening.

'...You were born for this, ever since you came into this world you were destined to join the ranks of the great assassins, an order who are sworn to protect the Anglo-Saxon crown from any potential threats – and you have timed your arrival very well, because we are about to face our greatest threat – an invasion of this proud land by the traitorous heathen Norman army and their bastard king – William the II...' Mercia's jaw was slowly unhinging and making it's way down to the floor, yet despite this bombardment of information, she somehow felt like it was right, and that she was meant to fit into this plan – almost like this was what she had been searching for; her calling, if you will.

'Now I ask you, will you join me, I shall train you, unlock your potential and make you the master assassin who will purge the onslaught of the vile demons who wish to defile our holy lands?' Mercia paused, slowly gathering her thoughts, she managed to utter a single world, nearly silently quiet, the sealing her fate in one word, the most important word she would ever utter slipped from her lips and softly echoed throughout the solitary halls

'Yes'

**Thank you for reading, any criticisms or comments are appreciated, I only want to try and get better**


	3. Revelations

**A/N – Thanks for my very supportive reviewer, I'm pretty much writing this just for you so enjoy lol :P I apologise in advance for this chapter being so poor, but I needed to cover a lot of generic crap at the abbey.**

**Disclaimer – I don't own Assassin's Creed or Ælfwig (because he is an actual historical figure from the era)**

Chapter 2: Revelations 

Mercia slumped against the stone wall and fell to a sitting position, shell-shocked with the information she had just been supplied with, she failed to speak, she just slowly tried to adjust to the situation – which was proving difficult considering she has never killed anyone in her life, and was now expected to become a ruthless assassin.

The young collie managed to paw its way out of her grasp and padded along the room before kneeling intently before the cloaked man, who intently scooped him up and gathered him into a cradle position in one movement, Mercia could faintly see his lips part from beneath his cloak before he began to speak again "I believe introductions are in order, I am Ælfwig, the abbot here at New Minster, I'm also the leader of the order of assassins, who operate out of bases like this all over Europe. I see you've already met my little pup Alfie, and I believe he has taken quite a liking to you – and I'm not surprised, your mother gave him to me as a parting gift"

Mercia looked bewildered (well even more bewildered) what did her mother have to do with any of this? She stood up, preparing herself to demand some answers, but was stopped in her tracks when Ælfwig decided to unrobe himself, revealing much to her surprise that the horrific force she feared would be hiding beneath was infact a 35ish man in chainmail armour – and a bloody gorgeous one at that! He stood about 6'1, broad framed and he was strong too, she could even make out the lines of his muscles from underneath his armour. He looked at her with his gorgeous big brown glistening eyes, and she fell backwards, he smiled at her little lapse, he had an amazing smile she thought to herself – with his beautifully chiseled jawline and light brown stubble that made him look tough and rugged yet still kind and gentle. Oh and his hair. She'd never seen hair like that on a guy before but it looked very good, it was medium length and wavy, a lovely ash brown in colour that perfectly complimented his tanned complexion.

"This is your home now, and feel free to treat it that way, there is a common room in the back of the abbey in which you're free to make yourself comfortable in – although if you choose there's always the barn..." Ælfwig noticed that she was staring intensely at him now, but not out of commanded fear like beforehand, but he could tell that she had thing for him, which made him smile (which made her smile harder) she took after her mother it seemed.

Mercia nodded, giggling slightly, and proceeded to bound into the back room – with strength drawn from a mysterious source it seemed – and dived onto the mattress before drifting peacefully into sleep, thoughts of this man and his rugged good looks played over in her dreams. She'd fallen from him already.

*the next day*

Feeling incredibly refreshed, Mercia stretched, rubbed at her eyes then jumped from the bed to the floor – she could have done a summersault had she chose to she was that alive – before being greeted by the warm smiling (and incredibly sexy) face of Ælfwig, who had taken it upon himself to make her an assassin uniform and pointing her to the springs out back where she could wash in seclusion if she needed to.

After taking a relaxing bath in the soothing spring, Mercia tied her dirty blonde hair into a ponytail and carefully unraveled her new uniform, it was leather clearly, but was so silky smooth, she traced her fingertips across the back and then the front; it was white with a simple red cross embossed into the front. It felt wonderful on her, like wearing a nightie, she couldn't resist the urge to bounce about the yard outside, like a child at play, but it was more, she seemed at home, like this was the calling she'd been searching for, the armour felt so natural on her that it felt like a second skin, finally she'd found her calling.

Ælfwig watched on from the window smiling at her, not just because of the grandiose spectacle she was making of herself, but because of how happy she was, of course Mercia never knew this, but ever since she was a child and her mother had left the Abbey in search of a quiet life, Ælfwig had watched on, slowly awaiting the day that the daughter of his most trusted friend and colleague would return to him and complete his final plan, but she was looking over and he had to pretend he wasn't observing her, which failed when she smiled at him, causing him to smile back at her, not out of choice, but simply because he liked her. And he certainly didn't like admitting that to himself. But, he regained composure and called her inside, they needed to start training.

It was intense, the training was hard and brutal, but he needed her in peak physical fitness, however no matter how hard it was for her to continue, his friendly, encouraging voice gave her the drive to continue, she wanted to impress him, she didn't really know why, after all she'd only just met him – and regardless of how fit he was – she wasn't the type for 'love at first sight' or anything like that, even the thought of sentiment made her feel a little bit sick; she'd learned from an early age after loosing her mother that she didn't need anyone but herself – but she thought to herself why did she suddenly feel like this then!

That night Mercia couldn't fall straight into blissful sleep the same as the last, her head played a million thoughts in her head on shuffle, she just couldn't decide whether she liked him or not, he was very kind to take her into his home, he was fit there was no doubt, and he wanted the best out of her – she didn't why was she so conflicted – it was like something in her head was saying to her: stop he's trouble, get out of there now! But she managed to silence that voice, reminiscing about the fun she had today she drifted off into sleep peacefully, unbeknownst that Ælfwig was watching her, his thoughts just as confused as hers, but he had enough restraint to stop himself thinking about it – afterall, the fate of the country was at stake and the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

* a few days later *

The past few days had flown by for Mercia, it all just seemed like one long adventure, her daily routine: wash; train; eat; train; wash; eat; sleep, it was so repetitive, yet Ælfwig made it so fun, the way he would joke with her and reassure her, she'd really grown to look up to him like a big brother, but still couldn't make up her mind if that was all, meanwhile, Ælfwig had a very productive few days, he'd gotten closer to her, which he really wanted, for afterall they were going to have to be the closest and trust each other 100% if they were going to prevent an onslaught of heathen invaders after all.

"Mercia, could you please come with me for a second?" Ælfwig called for the girl, who was engrossed within her training exercises and was quite startled at the interruption, but very happy to hear from him, she quickly made her way to the main room, almost bouncing on the way, he had gotten a very strange ornate wooden box out of the basement, she gazed intently at it for a few seconds, it was very beautiful. The box was made out of shining ebony, with the most detailed little floral patterns engraved upon the top of the box and across the sides, the usual lock in the centre was missing, and instead there was an exquisitely detailed embossed sun decoration (identical to the one in the middle of the carpet), but instead of a face in the middle, there was an indent that seemed to unlock the box – assuming that you had the correct the to open the box.

"Wh…What is it?" Mercia stumbled upon her words in her traditional bemused and flustered style, to which Ælfwig replied with a smirk that it was waiting for her to come and unlock it, he slowly took her hand and guided it towards the sun on the front of the box, slowly he folded her hand into a fist and guided her middle finger towards the insert, whereupon the ring she had always worn on her finger (which was adorned with a rose pattern) fitted perfectly into the insertion, which in turn caused a horrible metal crunching sound and the lid burst open, like the top of Pandora's box of myth, this ancient treasure had been opened too – Mercia however was too busy checking that there was no damage to her mother's ring.

Until she caught a glimpse of what was inside the box that was, her eyes widened and her jaw unhinged slightly, a golden light softly radiated from the open lid, and as she edged closer to it, the sparkling gleam of metals within flashed in her eyes, It had been left here on purpose, by her mother, anticipating her arrival all these years later – it was her mother's old assassin equipment, and a note addressed to Mercia which simply stated: 'I know that you will succeed were I failed, and here is the equipment you will need. I love you honey xxx'

Mercia was taken aback, it seemed her time had come, much sooner than she had expected.

**I fully realise this chapter was awful, but I needed to get a lot of stuff out of the way, most of which is and the action can start soon :D**


	4. Exceeding Expectations

**A/N – After a rather long and very important break for my exams at school, I'm back to give writing this another shot, this is once again pretty much for my one reviewer, Maryandmerlin, so yeah enjoy **

**Disclaimer – As always, I don't own Assassin' Creed etc. etc.**

Chapter 3: Exceeding Expectations

Momentarily taken back by what had just been revealed to her, Mercia paused slightly before screwing her courage to its sticking place and venturing into the enigmatic box in front of her. Stealthily she snaked her slender wrist between various strange and unfamiliar metallic objects, until she reached the handle of a sword that had drew her attention most: It was adorned with red jewels down the centre of the blade, a shallow valley was carved into the central channel down the sword's length – it was perfectly tapered to suit her strength – when she produced it from the box and proceeded to slice the surrounding air with no effort, Mercia felt like it was an extension of her body.

Ælfwig watched on rather impressed with her natural skill and the way her hesitation was discarded quicker than anyone foolish enough to stand in front of her as she was gracefully scissoring the air with her new bladed appendage – he even thought she looked like she was dancing at one point – he could tell, she really was her mother's daughter.

After her dazzling spur of the moment display had concluded, Mercia decided to sheath the blade within it's burgundy leather holster and attach it to the belt of her uniform before swiftly turning her attention back to the gleaming chest of wonders; she was overcome with a sense of rightness and belonging – her anticipation for to uncover her next piece of her Mother's equipment was palpable.

Once again taking the leap of faith and plunging her hand into the box (although admittedly this time her nervousness was replaced in abundance with confidence and excitement) Mercia coiled around what seemed like armour and drew it out from within easily, filled with awe and anticipation she gazed at it: perfectly polished to perfection; the black-silver breastplate was clearly very well constructed as a thorough examination proved there was no nicks or bumps or any small imperfections in it whatsoever just a subtle glint to it's smooth surface. Eagerly slipping it on over the top of her outfit, the thin metal plates hugged her petite form tightly, and her small bust pushed a St. George's cross which was emblazoned on the breastplate, and didn't impede her movement at all which shocked and delighted her in equal measure.

After watching the subsequent few minutes of armour application play out, Ælfwig stood rather stunned at what he saw before him: the girl he found only a week ago had unveiled herself before his eyes as the next Master Assassin of New Minster, and he hoped, the one who would fulfil the prophecy; the one who would stop the Norman invasion. Mercia, on the other hand, was more concerned with styling her matching pauldrons, greaves and vambraces and ensuring that the red trims accenting the pieces were aligned and didn't overshadow the personalised rose and vine engravings that accentuated the design – it was clearly catered just for usage by her.

* Later that evening *

Ælfwig had been training Mercia hard all day; the same as any other day really, he would encourage her and make jokes and allow her to grow into her destined role instead of inflicting it upon her – and it was this (and of course the fact she liked him and wanted to impress him) – that enabled her to so quickly ascertain all of the fundamentals of sword fighting. Although for her she had enough natural talent in her genes to easily learn much more advanced combat techniques; this would not be necessary since she seemed to already have all of the inherit abilities that her Mother had once similarly impressed Ælfwig with. She just needed the right motivation.

That night was far too cold – even for an English Winter – savage frozen winds battered the stone walls of the abbey and a voracious howl surged through the dead of night; no animal would dare leave the safety of their shelters on this night. Even Mercia had trouble sleeping: firstly curled up in a ball failed, she needed more warmth; then sleeping with the cute little Border Collie pup Alfie was unsuccessful as he wriggled about too much and she still didn't feel safe since the audacious scamp would only be able to nom hungrily on any attacker which would, at worst, leave them with a salivated bruise. No, she needed protecting too – and she had an idea, and a rather presumptuous one at that.

Human survival instincts kicking in, Mercia burst through the door to Ælfwig's study/bedroom and after scanning the lavishly decorated sanctum of her human hot water bottle-to-be only to find that he was gone – and the only clue was a sword that had been driven into the bedding.

Startled, Mercia then swiftly proceeded to further investigate the blade, it was unlike her own (Which she had officially dubbed 'Thorn' because of its sharp sting) and even unlike that used by Ælfwig – It was a Norman blade!

Panic stricken and frightened – she wasn't sure what to do at first – but after coming to the realisation that they must have killed him; and that more than likely they would be coming back for her, Mercia darted back into her room to get her equipment, she would confront them she had decided, it is what Ælfwig would have wanted. Bolting across the stone floor she didn't stop to think just pure adrenaline fuelling her actions (well, adrenaline and avenging her friend, whom she had grown rather close to as of late), she slammed her own wooden panel door shut behind herself and practically dived into the chest she had obtained and strapped her sleek black-silver armour on and drew Thorn out, the gleaming steel of the blade looked like silver in the moonlight.

Instinctively, Mercia heard heavy footsteps originating from outside of Ælfwig's room – they were coming closer – heavy reverberating stomps coming closer, she couldn't tell exactly what it was, but she knew it was coming for her. Sliding to the side of the door, she prepped herself for it coming; of course there was no way she could take whatever it was on in a plain fight to the death, but using all her cunning she decided to back herself up against the wall close to the door and make herself stand out as little as possible – which thankfully because of the design of the armour made her near invisible in the dark of night.

It came closer to her door; each step heavier and more intimidating than the last – the impending footsteps accompanied by guttural slurs of an incomprehensible language – Mercia steeled herself, it drew closer and closer. THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

CRASH!

The wooden door was torn from its hinges and hurtled across the room before exploding into splintering shards all over the room as a result of the colossal impact force; the creature took one more step and Mercia could make out a shadow of a great beastly head adorned with spikes in the candlelight - If she was going to act, it had to be now.

She closed her eyes.

Drawing upon all her courage, Mercia then turned from her hiding spot and drove her blade into the beast with as much force as she could muster – meeting little resistance, she felt Thorn easily penetrate steel and then flesh – the beast screamed in pain and fell back. Mercia opened her eyes again.

A heavily armoured Norman knight was lying in front of her; clutching at his side and writhing in agony as crimson blood spilled from his wound, leaking out onto the floor his efforts to cover it failed as blood lapped out from the puncture into his thick plate armour. Allowing what had happened to sink in momentarily, Mercia then remembered that Ælfwig was missing, and that she had (assumedly) felled his assailant; not letting her victim get away, she walked over to the injured knight and knelt next to his head – she was going to interrogate him – unbeknownst to her, the assassin in her was revealing itself.

Upon removing the great helmet which had terrified her only a few minutes ago; she saw that the 'beast' who had terrified her so was nothing more than a normal man, and like all men, he could pushed to get what was needed – so Mercia (driven by Ælfwig's assumed death) mercilessly took Thorn into her hand again and gently pressed the blade against the throat of the fearless Frenchman who was coughing up blood and cursing.

"What have you done to my master!" Mercia screamed at him, filled with uncharacteristic fury; her usual nihilistic ways distorted by her feelings for her lost friend.

"I would rather die than talk! English swine!" The knight retorted, spitting blood in her face

Mercia paused temporarily, before allowing instinct to take back over and taking her blade away from his throat, causing him to snigger at her – well until she then grinned malevolently back towards him – unnerving the wounded soldier; and rightly so.

She stood up seemingly leaving the soldier to his death before turning and driving Thorn with force into his abdomen again; before messily pulling the blade out and spilling more blood onto the floor and the walls as she swung the blade again over him to intimidate more.

Unable to bite back his cries of pain and anguish any further, the knight confessed everything – Ælfwig was alive and being held in the stables, being interrogated by the other Norman assassins sent to kill him – upon learning that he was alive, Mercia was overjoyed; before sharply remembering that he was in great danger and needed to rescue him immediately. Looking over her shoulder to observe the dying soldier, she said a silent prayer for him (as was customary for an enemy felled in battle) he managed to splutter a few words at her in French before he succumbed to his wounds.

"Vive le Templier!"

**Thanks for reading **** any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, you'll have to wait until the next update to see whether Mercia manages to save Ælfwig from the Norman Assassins who are keeping him captive D:**


	5. Hearing Voices

**A/N –Thank you to my reviewers: MaryandMerlin, Altair Ibn-Lee'Ahad and kookie-douwh. This one's for you guys :)  
**

**Disclaimer – This is starting to become quite the exercise in futility, but yes as usual I don't own Assassin's Creed, if I did Ezio wouldn't be in every single game.**

Chapter 4: Hearing Voices

Mercia promptly turned from the dead soldier; after all she was victorious and had a mission to attend to, but before she could manage to even leave the room, she had to return to the corpse – willed by some unknown force it seemed. Thoroughly scanning the corpse before getting up, she had noticed a peculiar oddity: like all Norman soldiers this one had the Flag of Normandy – a golden lion on a red background – emblazoned on his plate armour; this in itself wasn't noteworthy, but Mercia's keen eye had noticed that there was a strange symbol in the lion's eye.

Deciding that she would have to return to this after she'd saved Ælfwig; Mercia had managed to bound about as far as 3 meters before she was felled by a horrific screeching sound originating from within her own head and a mysterious voice playing from an unrecognizable source that she too would have credited to within the confines of her mind (had she not dismissed the possibility as impossible sorcery).

"Rose what are you doing, go back to the body NOW!" The voice was powerful and booming and resonated around her shaking the very foundations of the abbey.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" she screamed back at the voice, but that was not a wise decision.

"Fine, have it your way" it retorted, with a slightly callous laugh accompanying its words.

Stone walls creaked and groaned like they were being bent; wooden floors splintered and cracked and earth forcefully erupted from the resulting gaps in the flooring; the stone ceiling above gave a pained roar as it began to give and small stones and rubble fell to the ground and the gaping void emerging in the floor beneath her. Panicking Mercia followed

the orders of this strange god who had decided to focus his wrath upon her, she edged around the very outside of the room; hugging closely to the wall to get around the chasm that descended into darkness from the centre of the room – since traversing it would be impossible now given the size of the gap (which was seemingly growing bigger and bigger as it began to eat away at more of the flooring ravenously like some giant monster hidden under the abbey).

Mercia was understandably terrified, but had bottled up her courage and allowed her instincts to guide her ever since she nearly lost her footing and saw down below to what awaited her should she fall: a snarling unearthly mouth filled with rows of rotting blood drenched disfigured teeth that twisted and contorted and overlapped; tangled within these giant barbs of death was a mutilated mass of unrecognizable corpses, limbs torn from bodies and organs strewn out across the gulf of the beast's gaping jaws like confetti. Truly hell had come to Earth.

And she was trapped at the very heart of it.

The stone walls that had caged her and the beast within the same small cell of pure hell had dissipated miraculously and Mercia jumped out of the range of the insidious hungering monster, only to find she was no safer there once she had opened her eyes.

The forest of pleasant viridian that had once engulfed the abbey had been stripped, the evergreen leaves were burnt to cinders and left behind a spiked labyrinth of dying trees that gnarled and gnashed warding her away and the lush green field out the back of the abbey had also been destroyed: the grass was torched and left behind thick growling black ashes that burned her feet to the touch even through her boots – but that was the least of her problems – as something was moving around under the desolate and smouldered ruins.

Before her training, Mercia would probably have cried and curled up in a ball – or if she was feeling particularly brave, run away screaming. But not now, she had grown strong in recent weeks, and even though she had no understanding of her current situation, she knew what she had to do – reach that body.

With a great roar and her strength re-cooperated, Mercia rose to her feet and charged across the dying plains to reach the knight's body, which was seemingly untouched and glowing as if it was left there on purpose for her to find it – it had never occurred to her to question this strange god's motives – she was too focused on the mission at hand.

Seconds before reaching her target, once again she was impeded, this time by a hand on the back of her shoulder. Mercia freaked and spun on the spot to see what her final task was that stood between her and salvation, but even with her renewed confidence she was still taken aback by what she saw. It was Ælfwig, but not what she wanted to see.

Remnants of decaying flesh peeled from what very little was left of his face; an ominous yellowish white skull showing through with dead grey eyes staring coldly at her; the top of the cranium was fractured revealing a revolting mess of decomposers feasting upon what once appeared to be a brain but now was leaking with pus. Mercia freaked and backed up as the tortured and re-animated remains of her former friend took a step forward; the ground began to shudder under the abomination – even in hell this was an unwanted thing.

It then looked at Mercia – even through the dead eyes with no pupils, she could still feel an unnatural hatred and venom towards her – it snarled a deep and heavy roar that would distil fear even in the dead. It took another step, almost cackling at her fear; its voice reeked of malice and bloodlust.

"My, my, how you've grown my little rose, but it ends here" it's almost inaudible chants went right through her.

Mercia tripped back over what appeared to be thickened roots, but as she tumbled could make out it was a discarded human spine – that however didn't faze her at this moment as the only thing on her mind was to face this creature. It knelt next to her and after a small amount of time to size up its prey (which gave Mercia enough time to calm down and collect her wits) the abhorrent beast stretched out his armour-plated skeletal arm and extended the tips of the spiked claws at the end of its bony fingers and stroked her back causing her armour to wither and fall off; the leather of the uniform disintergrated leaving her back exposed for a final killing blow.

It mocked her perceived weakness and then laughed at her inability to fight back – or so he thought – because just as he let his guard down she drew Thorn from the holster and span and stabbed her demonic captor through a weak spot in the armour in its chest all in one movement. Mercia rose to her feet as it fell to its knees; weakened it tried to snarl to intimidate her – which she responded to by drawing her blade from his chest spinning it above her head and using the momentum to cleave its head from his shoulders with one clean, slick swish.

Swiftly exiting the scene of the fight, Mercia then quickly proceeded to make her way towards the corpse of the Norman Knight before any more vile or hideous challenges could be thrown her way. Scanning the armour thoroughly; she remembered the strange hieroglyph within the Lion's eye when she first inspected it, and it was still there: it appeared to be a cross; whilst not too dissimilar to the St. George's cross that she wore upon her armour and uniform, it differed in the way that the arms of the cross were pointed which gave off a feeling of animosity and foreboding for reasons she didn't understand.

However there was one thing that she did understand, there was something secret about the Norman army, something hidden, something mysterious, something… evil.

There was nothing else of note on the body apart from a sealed envelope; Mercia pried open the seal of the letter (which was also guarded by that strange cross) before she could read however a golden light burst from the page blinding her and knocking her unconscious and only that deep unsettling voice from earlier could be heard inside her head.

"There's a good girl Rose – or should I say, Subject 14, you see what happens when you don't follow instructions straight away – you get hurt – inside the animus I control everything that happens so you had better just follow orders and get through this as quickly as possible. We can't afford to waste any more time"

* A short time later *

Mercia awoke suddenly to the familiar sight of the abbey walls; perfectly intact and she was very happy to let herself believe that everything that had happened that night was merely a dream – unfortunately for her the bloody corpse of the knight and the letter from his body in her hand shattered that illusion very quickly – and that's when she remembered Ælfwig was still in danger and that she would have to read the letter later because she had no idea how long she was in that other world – if she even was at all, she was happy to assume it was a hallucination out of stress for now.

"Shit, is he still alive? How long was I out for?" Mercia pondered with ever increasing distress pained across her face, really she only had one option now which was to charge the stables at the back of the abbey and attempt a seemingly impossible gung-ho rescue. It was her only chance of seeing him again. And that in itself made up her mind on her next course of action.

Mercia took advantage once again of the darkness of the night and her blackened armour (which she realised was no longer damaged from her 'dream') to hug the sides of the abbey walls until she got close enough to the simple, but sturdy wood-panelled stable for the guard which had been posted outside the main door useless as he was unable to even sound a scream before Thorn was plunged into his throat.

Building on her success of what she thought was a certain suicide mission Mercia had a suddenly had a flash of inspiration and dragged the body away from the main door and changed into his clothes so that she could gain easy access to Ælfwig – she slipped into the chainmail suit and then adorned the Normandy Flag emblazoned cloth that draped over it, before criticising the Normans for their lack of taste in comparison to her own suit of armour (which she had safely stashed in a nearby haystack for collection after the mission as it was to precious to her to give up). The dead body also yielded a few other useful tools which would help her rescue: a small dagger which could be hidden, a key and a small vial adorned with a black skull and filled with an unnamed clear liquid which she could only assume was poison of some description.

After putting on the Norman helmet which would hide her identity she was finished kitting up and decided that she was ready – or as ready as she could possibly be – for her raid on the facility behind her, Mercia knew she was outnumbered and almost certainly going to suffer a nasty gruesome death. But she no longer cared about herself, only Ælfwig and he needed her right now.

Carefully she opened the front door and the scene before her unfolded: Ælfwig was tied being hung from the ceiling by a rope that had bound his hands together leaving him helpless (and from the looks of him he'd been tortured for information); A brute of a man stood next to him with a blood-stained half mask across his grotesque face and a Templar cross emblazoned on his heavy chainmail armour. A few guards like the one outside stood next to the entrance to greet her and rather than attempt to comprehend their French she just nodded and gained entry.

Stepping slowly into the confines of the barn where she herself mysteriously woke up but a few weeks ago, she tried not to give her cover away by losing her temper over the enslavement of her friend. But she couldn't control her rage much longer and when two of the soldiers came up to her to assumedly question why she wasn't at her post, Mercia drew Thorn and spun slashing and at the same time, cutting deep into the guard felling him swiftly and before the second guard could even manage to withdraw his own sword, she had spun back round and sliced his throat sending fresh crimson blood spilling all over the walls of the stable.

Turning back round to see the scene before her again; the brute was stunned and the other soldier who was patrolling the insides of the stable was frightened to move. Assuming control of the situation once more the unnamed behemoth who stood atleast 6'5 ordered his last remaining underling to attack; Mercia swiftly cut the frightened soldier down as quick as he came at her and then the confrontation was set for her and this monstronsity.

Or at atleast that's what he thought – Mercia on the other hand had no intentions to try and best him in combat so devised a clever plan to defeat him. To begin she started to distract him by spinning and twirling Thorn; drawing attention away from her spare hand which she was using to fiddle with something behind her back out of his sight and with the final move to her sword dance repertoire she spun and threw the dagger which she'd taken out whilst distracting him. It hit him in the chest and he fell. Victory.

Ecstatic that her plan worked Mercia celebrated momentarily before regaining composure and ued the key she had acquired to free Ælfwig from his bounds; upon release he collapsed and fell into her arms and after checking he had a pulse she closed her eyes and held him tight. At this moment in time nothing could have brought down her mood.

Except noticing out the corner of her eye that the body of the brute had vanished.

Mercia gasped sharply and turned only to be met with a heavy punch to the side knocking both her and her injured friend to the floor. The beast of a man stood over her laughing; he pulled the dagger out of his side with ease and then took a fearsome double-headed battleaxe from his back and then mocked her by mimicking her spinning and twirling technique from earlier – she didn't have much time, if she was going to come up with a plan now was her only chance.

Rummaging through her pouch desperately for any kind of pocket miracle to save them both, Mercia's slender fingers grasped the odd vial she had taken from the guard outside and concocted a plan – she was good at working under pressure it seemed. Once the brute's back was momentarily turned she quickly opened the vial and poured its contents over Thorn which had fell next to her; now it was just a matter of timing.

Once his demonstration had concluded, the brutish man then slowly stomped his way over to the downed female victim; he took pleasure in making every step as heavy and slow as possible, trying his best to frighten his helpless prey before removing his half-mask and revealing the other half of his face – the skin had been burnt of and he was left with horrendous scarring. Mercia was reminded of the creature from her 'hallucination' earlier and this fuelled her further and just as he took the axe above his head for the final descending swing of death – Mercia grasped the poison-soaked Thorn and drove it into his gut.

It was finally over; she collapsed next to Ælfwig and cuddled into his chest before joining him in sleep - she really needed it.

**Thanks for reading **** any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated :) sorry to those who wanted him to die but he's too important for the rest of the story to kill off at this point.**


	6. La Fin des Templieri

**A/N – Okies well this one is for my reviewers: MaryandMerlin, Altair Ibn-Lee'Ahad and kookie-douwh. Thanks guys, if it wasn't for reviews from kind people like you I wouldn't continue this story so I'll try to make it as good as possible for you guys **

**Disclaimer – I don't own AC, which I'm sure I've clarified enough by this point but since for some reason you need to do this at the start of every chapter I'll just mention it once again :P**

Chapter 5: La Fin des Templieri

Mercia couldn't sleep well despite the comfort of being cuddled up to Ælfwig; she kept hearing strange voices in her sleep – one of which was the strange god who had distorted her world earlier– and the other she couldn't make out, but it was definitely a female voice.

"Vidic what the hell was that? I'm pretty sure that never happened in her memories!" The angry female voice shouted; seemingly directed at the other voice.

"Miss Stillman will you keep your voice down? What you witnessed was a remarkable new program developed for the animus by a 'friend' of mine, the Cerberus Program allows me to manipulate Rose's actions within the animus by influencing the environment around her via my terminal – Mercia's memories get temporarily frozen and I can subject Rose, or Subject 14 I should say, to whatever I like in order to do make sure she does exactly what I want. Ingenious isn't it? The voice of the angry god retorted with a tone of superiority.

"Th... that's.." The female voice was clearly taken aback by what had been revealed to her, she stuttered slightly before regaining her composure and once again challenging the seeming authority of the other voice "That's completely unethical Vidic, there's no telling what kind of mental trauma that might inflict upon the subject – you've gone mad with power!"

There was a pause, before quietly and calmly the male voice responded "You know a Rebecca Crane, don't you Luce?

"Uhhh.. Yes why?" The female voice sounded confused; and slightly worried – but rightly so.

"I thought so" The other voice answered with a menacing tone to his voice "She was the technician who was 'kind' enough to write the Cerberus Program for me, and well I'm afraid that she wasn't as compliant as I'd have hoped so I was left with little choice but to have her imprisoned here..."

"Wha..." She was shocked but was interrupted by the other voice again who was getting angrier and louder.

"And all of your constant questioning of my authority is starting to become quite the nuisance, so how about next time you dare to question me I make a point by dragging her down here and killing her right in front of your eyes? Would you like that Luce? Do you want to see me splatter her brain all over the fucking floor? DO YOU!"

The female voice was silent; except for a slight whimper.

"Good, now DO AS I FUCKING SAY!"

* The next morning*

Mercia awoke from a gentle nudging in the stomach, groggily she looked about to see she was in her room again and Ælfwig was sitting on the bed next to her smiling; she smiled back at him. Then she looked down to see what had been nudging at her stomach to find Alfie the cute little collie pup pawing at her to check she was ok; Mercia happily took the little puppy into her arms and nuzzled him before turning to Ælfwig who was still just watching her with a gentle warming smile.

"Good morning sunshine" Ælfwig grinned at Mercia as she began to prop herself up against the back of the bed so that they could converse – she realised they'd probably have a lot to talk about.

"What happened, why am I here?" Mercia pondered quite confused.

"Well I woke up before you and brought you here silly" Ælfwig answered back with a tone that was slightly mocking but his welcoming smile as he spoke more than made that ok.

They shared a smile, but it was short-lived as Ælfwig suddenly ceased the niceties and grew a very serious tone as his warm smile faded and was replaced with a stern face "I'm very glad your okay, but I'm afraid we don't have much time for pleasantries, we can't stay here – New Minster has been comprised and they will come back – and I have a lot to explain to you, so quickly get packed and meet me in the stables out back and I'll explain more on the way"

Mercia had many questions but knew that she would have to wait to have them answered so until then she did as told: she slipped into her uniform and packed away her armour, Thorn and picked Alfie up into her arms before joining Ælfwig at the stables, where he had prepared a horse ready for her to make a long journey. He took Alfie off her and placed him into a roomy supply bag attached to his horses back – clearly he was bringing more stuff for this journey than she was.

They set off promptly through a secret path that took them out of the densely layered trees, Mercia was about to bombard him with a series of questions but he interrupted himself with a very serious tone:

"Okay Mercia your going to have to listen to me now because what I'm about to say is very important – I don't know how much time we have before they come back for us here so we need to relocate our base of operations, don't worry I have everything here and we can quickly set up base again in our next safe location – Stonehenge, a hundred or so miles to the west. Now unfortunately the Normans aren't our only worry anymore, because I think it's about time I confess something to you – the Assassins, our order has existed for thousands of years and our true enemies are not the Normans, but the Templars – who are our swore enemies who want nothing more than to oppress the entire world and rule it with an iron fist, we are sworn to fight against them, we fight for freedom, we fight for the rights of a person to live and we fight for free will!"

"But what of..." Mercia was cut off as Ælfwig continued

"William II, Duke of Normandy is also the Grand Master of the Templars and he's united many under his 'Norman' banner and together they want to continue their rule – they want to take England, don't you understand Mercia, we're the last hope now? If they take England the rest of the world will fall to them as well and their nefarious plans will be complete, we can't have that. No. We must act"

"What do we need to do?" Mercia responded very solemnly

Ælfwig replied in an equally solemn tone: "We need to eliminate the leading Templars, once these lie dead then William will have lost all of his support and then once only he remains then once we've defeated him then the Templar order will finally be defeated and the world will be ever free of the will of these evil men"

Mercia nodded, and Ælfwig gave a half-smile; which even just in the smallness of it uplifted her a lot – he then proceeded to further explain what would become of them:

"Once we've arrived at the secret base in Stonehenge, I'll need to train you a little bit further and give you your most important weapon – a hidden blade that allows for stealthy kills on enemies. Once that's done then we can work on taking out the men who aid William:

Conan II – Duke of Bretagne. As the Duke of Brittany he has control over a very strong army and with his allegiance to William he is a powerful enemy.

Herluin de Conteville – William's Father and his trusted military advisor. This man has seen nothing but warfare and fighting and even in his old age is dangerous.

Cresconio I – King of Galicia. A powerful Spanish noble recruited to the Templar Order by William, a dangerous foe – he believes that God supports his cause.

Ermengol III – Count of Urgell. Spanish noble and commander of William's forces in the field, he's renowned for being impossible to get near.

Arialdo de Carimate – William's personal assassin. I don't know anything about him, but I do know that William intends to have him murder the Pope and have one of his own order take the throne.

Foulques l'Oison – Count of Vendôme. French noble and close friend of William, his influence in the court of the King of France has helped William acquisition power all over France and Europe.

Harald Hardrada III – King of Norway. Viking King of Norway and enemy of the English Crown, he's a secret ally of William and his army will provide vital in the coming invasion.

Stenkil – King of Sweden. Another Viking leader recruited to the Templar Order by William, he intends to unite all of Europe under the Templar Banner.

And finally: William himself. The Duke of Normandy and Grand Master of the Knights Templar – his influence has spread throughout Europe and has powerful allies in most courts across the known world. He's also untouchable; he never leaves his impenetrable fortress base of Mont Saint-Michel. One last thing... he holds an artifact of great power, capable of bending the minds of men and performing feats impossible of any mortal man – a relic of the gods who walked this Earth millennia ago.

A Piece of Eden."

The two exchanged glances before continuing the long journey, not a word was said – just thoughts of what was to come.

**Thanks for reading and any reviews would be appreciated you lovely lovely people :D also let me know which target you want her to go after first or any ideas, comments or queries regarding the story x  
**


	7. A Change of Plans

**A/N – Thanks to all my reviewers: MaryandMerlin, Altair Ibn-Lee'Ahad and kookie-douwh. I'll try to appease you all with this lol**

**Disclaimer – I wonder if I should just cease to include the disclaimer from now on, since if any hungry Ubisoft lawyers are looking at this for to sue me then surely to God they must have realised I don't own it by now :P oh and I don't own any of the targets either since they are all real historical figures from the era.**

Chapter 6: A Change of Plans

A few hours into the journey things had seemingly returned to normality again Ælfwig and Mercia had started joking and flirting and laughing and having fun once again: races to see who could clear checkpoints first; who's horse could jump furthest over craggy cliffs and gulls in the valleys; eye spy which childishly Mercia enjoyed the most. But most of all he was smiling again. She loved it when he was happy and smiling; he had such a nice welcoming smile.

It was night by the time that they had eventually passed the last clearing and had a view of the old pagan ruins of Stonehenge just over the top of one last rolling verdant valley; which of course Ælfwig challenged her to a race over; which of course she accepted. Mercia charged as fast as she could get the poor chestnut horse to gallop but she was outmatched by Ælfwig's white stallion once again (poor horse he must have had no self confidence left by the time the journey was over) but really Mercia didn't mind: it was fun and that's what mattered, they were both happy.

Upon reaching the ruins Ælfwig proceeded to walk slowly around the perimeter seemingly looking for something – Mercia followed with a vacant gaze of curiosity plastered across her face – he circled the strange collection of stone pillars until he reached the central pillar at the back. Now at first there was nothing of note about this pillar, it was identical to all those around it, except for when observed closely one could see that there was a tiny engraving of a Saint George's Cross – identical to those which they both carried on their armour.

"Watch this" Ælfwig looked at her with a cockiness that she loved about him.

Wasting no time he took out a key from his pack and pressed the emblem of his key into the engraving in the rock – it was a perfect match – there was a metallic click and then with no effort Ælfwig pushed the great stone pillar aside to reveal a hatch in the ground. A secret hidden base!

Mercia followed him down the wooden ladder that lead to the secret hideout underneath the ruins and she was quite amazed at what she saw – marbled flooring and glass chandeliers – multiple rooms even! Similarly to the abbey there was a luxurious red carpet neatly trimmed with golden rims and a sun in the middle and decorative stone etchings around the ceiling of the room and the flowing banners which were draped from ceiling to floor displaying the St. George's cross; vibrant red on a white background.

"Well here it is! Our home away from home" Ælfwig grinned smugly at her, seeing that she was not expecting quite the grandeur of what she had been revealed to her.

"It's.. It's... Magnificent!" Mercia struggled for words at first but sharply regained her composure and adjusted to the situation "I'm very impressed! But it's getting really late – where's my room?" she smiled at him when she asked.

"Well if you don't want the tour yet, I'm sure it can wait til tomorrow" he laughed slightly and she joined in "But don't worry your room is just to the left of the main hall, I took the liberty of making sure that the spare room was already available just in case I had company next time I came here"

Nodding happily Mercia then proceeded to make her way to her room with a spring in her step – before she felt something grab gently at her arm, she turned around and Ælfwig pulled her back to him.

"Hmm what do you want now silly man I need my sl..." he silenced her protest with a kiss.

Mercia pulled back momentarily before letting her instincts take over and go in for another one, his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer as her hands ran up his back as they began to kiss with more passion, tongues danced and hands explored under armour before they broke the kiss for a deep embrace. She had no idea how long it lasted, she didn't care, she was too happy.

Ælfwig eventually was the one who decided to let go first with a smug remark "What was that about you needing your sleep Merci?"

"I.. I was just getting to that" Mercia blushed and pulled him in for a quick hug before bounding to her chamber, poorly concealing her excitement. Sleep came almost instantly after she sunk into the sheets of her comfy bedding her dreams filled with thoughts of action and adventure in foreign countries – and of course Ælfwig there to 'assist' her.

* The next morning *

"Wake up sleepy-head" Ælfwig gently rocked Mercia out of her peaceful sleep assisted by Alfie who had decided to make it his business to paw at her stomach on a morning like a little furry alarm clock.

"Come on it's time to start training, you can't tell down here because there's no natural light but it's morning already – your right you were tired" he smiled at her and that cheered her up enough to get up and ready.

After vigorously rubbing her eyes (partly out of tiredness and partly out of not recognizing this new dwelling she found herself in so had to confirm it wasn't a dream) Mercia was nearly ready to start the day, after coming up to the surface to bath in the lake she then promptly came back to the secret hideout to start her new training: armour equipped and Thorn in it's holster at her side – she was ready.

Ælfwig stood before her with a strange device she didn't recognize, but he sharply explained himself "This is for you Mercia, a present left by your Mother, it is the signature weapon of our order – the hidden blade. It is equipped underneath the vambrace of your armour and with a trigger attached to your ring finger it can be deployed at the flick of your wrist and then stored again just as quickly. Here try it on." He handed the device to Mercia who quickly equipped it and began to play with the blade mechanism deploying it and storing it rapidly in quick succession.

"Why don't you try it out on this test dummy I've set up?" Ælfwig moved out of the way revealing a sack mannequin which had been set up in the main room overnight – Mercia moved up to the dummy and in one movement flicked her wrist and slashed the dummy's throat sending feathers tumbling to the floor before quickly sheathing the weapon and walking back up to Ælfwig who nodded at her approvingly and then informing her that there was five more dummies hide around the ruins she needed to practice on.

Happily accepting this new challenge Mercia then hastily climbed the wooden ladders out of the base and into the fresh air of the open English countryside; a quick scan of the surrounding area provided no details as to the whereabouts of the locations of the dummies – she decided to survey the area in a bit more detail and alarming she noticed a faint red glow coming from behind one of the pillars. Alarmed at this she then thought that it would be a good idea to look at this strange glow from a vantage point and climbed a near pillar – only to find that it was the dummy that was giving off this glow!

Mercia was a little confused at first but quickly took it upon her self to hop across the pillars and arcs of the ruins until she reached one the was directly behind the dummy – allowing her to leap down onto it with her hidden blade deployed and drive it into the jugular before retracted the blade and pulling some feathers out with it. Consequently, the dummy also ceased to glow red now that it was dealt with – she concluded that this must be part of her assassin abilities shining through as well; Ælfwig had mentioned something about being able to sense the aura of friend and foe being part of the assassin bloodline whilst they were on the way here.

Building on her success with the last dummy, Mercia then decided to try and use this new ability to locate the other four that were dotted around the ruins – one she saw was up on top of a pillar so she decided to climb up to the ledge of the pillar and use the hidden blade to pull him off and kill him in one movement (a move which Ælfwig was rather proud of since he was observing her from just out of the hole in the ground). After dispatching the dummy she then took it's place on top of the pillar and used it as a vantage point to scout around her and determine the location of the remaining three dummies – which she managed to as she detected three separate faint red glows: one coming from the lake; one from the forest east of the ruins and one from within the base itself.

Sharply Mercia then hopped down from her vantage point and back into the base to see Ælfwig grinning at her as he had hid one of the dummies within her own room – which she sharply located and dealt with before climbing back up the wooden ladder and heading to the lake where one of the dummies was sitting in a row boat in the middle of the body of water.

Mercia swam out near the boat before diving under the water so that she wouldn't get spotted, obviously a dummy couldn't spot her due to the fact that it lacks the ability to see (or even be alive for that matter) but for the purpose of training she had to pretend it was a real assignment. Just as she reached the bow of the boat Mercia then very quietly swam around the outside of it until she was behind the unsuspecting captain of the boat before emerging from the water with an acrobatic leap that a dolphin would be jealous of and plunging her hidden blade into the back of the dummy and dragging it back into the water with her like some kind of homicidal mermaid. Four down: one to go.

Lastly, to complete her mission Mercia then proceeded to saddle up on her little chestnut brown horse and ride to the perimeter of the small forest from which the final glow originated. Making sure not to draw any unwanted attention from her sack target she ordered the horse to slowly walk through the clearing until the red glow was just in sight and then once she was near she ordered the horse to gallop and it charged as fast as it's legs could take it – Mercia stood on it's back and readied herself to pounce from atop the galloping steed onto the target as she flew past it. The target never saw it coming. A flash of brown and stealthy shadow before being snuffed out as Mercia landed with enough momentum to tackle the dummy to the ground and then quickly stabbed the powerless victim in the head with the hidden blade – before retracting it and taking half the feathers in its head with her.

Proudly Mercia returned to Ælfwig at the secret hideout having completed her assignment swiftly and effectively. He was impressed. She was delighted. Even more so when he greeted her with a hug.

"Very well done Merci, I'm very impressed – you're quite the little killer aren't you?" Ælfwig laughed a friendly warming laugh and she nodded and smiled.

"There's one last thing I want to show you about your blade... point it at the dummy which you slashed the throat of earlier would you?" Mercia did as told "Good, now you see that little bolt at the end of the blade? Pull that back until it clicks into the lock at the back"

"Done!" Mercia gleefully responded "Now what?"

"Push it down" Ælfwig said calmly trying to stifle a grin

Mercia pushed down on the locked bolt at the elbow end of her hidden blade and within a split second there was a metallic click and the blade shot out of her vambrace with the speed and accuracy of a crossbow bolt tearing the head off of the dummy and pinning it to the wall behind. Momentarily in awe at the device, Mercia took a second to collect herself before retrieving the blade from the head of the dummy (causing it to fall to the floor in a nasty feathery mess) and with a small bit of assistance from Ælfwig been shown how to reattach the blade – which was as simple as pulling the bolt back forward, inserting the blade and locking it back down ready to be fired again.

"That is so cool! Can I shoot something else? Please?" Mercia pleaded with Ælfwig, seemingly entranced by the allure of being able to dispatch a target from up to 10 meters away.

"Of course! I set up a range in the clearing earlier – I assumed you'd want to try the blade out a little further" Mercia's face lit up as he revealed this and they quickly saddled up the horses and rode out to the makeshift range set up just outside the clearing: a wooden barricade marked where to fire from and at varying distances away from the barricade stood wooden human shaped targets with bull's-eyes painted in the dead centre of the chest.

Which of course Mercia ignored and chose to fire her blade into the head of the targets – which in all honesty Ælfwig wasn't really surprised at – it showed her killer instinct, which was going to be a necessity in the coming days.

"How'd I do?" Mercia inquired, seeking approval

"Very good, I'm rather impressed – although I think you were meant to aim for the bulls-eyes, from the looks of these targets – every one of those shots would have been a kill shot" he trailed off.

Mercia really didn't care about the details of the injuries she'd inflicted, she was too preoccupied watching his lips as he talked and thinking about other things that they could be doing instead of just rambling – pleasant rambling nonetheless – but still just talking. Well that was until he congratulated her with a quick kiss before they saddled up again and rode back to the hidden base. Mercia was satisfied and suddenly very proud of her performance on the range.

Once they arrived at the hideout Ælfwig made dinner for them which was pleasant (he claimed he hunted that boar himself, but Mercia was doubtful) but afterwards there was little time for pleasantries following the meal as he cleared the table and brought through a large map; withering at the corners and yellowing in colour it was clearly a very old map. It perplexed her – there were lands displayed which she was unaware of even the existence of – outside of England, and France and Spain and the Germanic lands and the Scandinavias where the Vikings came from there was more lands beyond that: Middle Eastern and Arabian lands; far Eastern and Russian lands and even African lands separated by the Mediterranean Sea.

"This is a piece of the Ancient Assassin's Codex, compiled by our ancestors who explored the entire world to try and collect all the knowledge of all the peoples of the world, and even this isn't complete apparently there are more lands unexplored even by us. But even so this is more than enough to help you plan how to reach your targets" Ælfwig explained as he took out a quill and proceeded to mark upon the map the locations of the targets "As you can see they are scattered throughout Europe and I..."

He was cut off by the sound of an arriving messenger pigeon, he left the table momentarily and then returned with a small parchment and a deadly serious look on his face, well even more serious than his concentrating map face (which she thought was cute but that's a bit irrelevant). Ælfwig looked at her before looking down at the map and wiping away one of his marks he had mad with the tip of his finger.

"Our plan is decided; Foulques l'Oison comes to meet with King Harold of England in two days – in order to get him to surrender his defences to William. We need to make sure he never makes that meeting"

Mercia looked at him and nodded "Agreed"

**And there we have it folks, the ball starts a-rolling from this point onwards – what will happen between Mercia and Ælfwig? Will she succeed in killing the targets? You'll have to wait and find out. R&R please you sexy people.**


	8. Baptism of Fire

**A/N – Thanks to all my reviewers: MaryandMerlin, Altair Ibn-Lee'Ahad and kookie-douwh. I've returned to this don't worry kiddies.**

**Disclaimer – *look at all the prior disclaimers* **

Chapter 7: Baptism of Fire

Ælfwig arose from his seat at the table and collected up the map of the codex that had been marked with the locals of their targets; he quickly rolled it up and bound it with a red seal marked with a strange triangular emblem which curved at the bottom and flared at the sides.

"What is that symbol?" Mercia curiously questioned the seemingly troubled Assassin master.

"This... this is the mark of the assassins; it is the ancient emblem of our creed – our heraldry and our history lie within the symbol. Our order goes back further than just England; our order has existed from the beginning – for as long as Templars have threatened the peace and stability of the Earth, we the assassins have stood against them" Ælfwig explained to her, his voice potent with authority and wizened with age and experience, Mercia was about to ask another question but he cut her off as there wasn't enough time.

"The cross of St. George is the mark of the assassins working within England, it is a tribute to the original founder of the order in this country – legend tells of a great knight who rescued the princess and slew a dragon. Truth however deviates from this tale; the heroic knight of legend had no nobility to his name and wasn't even a Saxon – no, he was a traveller. He came to England to retrieve the ancient artifact I told you about – the one William holds in his possession – and whilst George was successful in retrieving it from the corrupt king who wielded it, unfortunately he lost in the fight with 'The Dragon' which was a mere illusion replicated by the Piece of Eden. It was seemingly lost until William had secured it"

"So wait? What we've all been told is... a lie?" Mercia managed to squeeze a question in whilst Ælfwig collected his breath, and he responded as quickly as she asked:

"Yes, our order is ingrained within the heart of this country yet only a select few know about us and our origins. You are one of those select few. Mercia Aethelgrad, tonight I will perform your induction ceremony, tonight, you become an assassin"

* Later on that night *

Dark brooding beasts of stormy grey and malignant black circled the ruins of Stonehenge that night; gnashing their teeth sending thunder roaring and screaming through the midnight air – piercing the veil of tranquillity. A lone flare stood alone in the darkness, an enlightening fire in the enigmatic blackness of the night.

Mercia made her way up to the cauldron of coal and fire where Ælfwig was barely visible to her amongst the dancing shadows that flickered in the light of the fire; he spoke which surprised her as she couldn't even see his lips part:

"Our order has always lived by three rules – the three tenets of the creed which guide our actions and help us to remain hidden and aids us in our goals:

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent: the goal of the assassins is to bring peace in all things – we believe that we only take life if it is for the greater good. We only kill to protect the people from a greater tyranny.

Hide in plain sight: Be unseen, let the people mask you so that you become one with the crowd – the greatest feat an assassin can achieve is to assassinate their target in plain sight then vanish into the darkness like they were never there.

Never compromise the Brotherhood: your actions must never bring harm to the others of our order, directly or indirectly you must never put your brothers and sisters at risk. The actions of one must never bring harm to all"

Mercia listened attentively as Ælfwig continued with her induction into the order; she had studied the ceremony in one of the books he had left in her room and she knew what was coming.

Ælfwig continued, signalling to Mercia that it was her turn to participate in the ritual as well "Where others blindly follow the truth remember..."

"Nothing is true" Mercia whispered, quietly confident

"Where others are bound by morality or law remember..."

"Everything is permitted" Mercia responded again but with more confidence.

"We work in the dark to serve the light. We are the assassins. Nihil esse verum; licet omnia" Ælfwig finished the ceremony and Mercia stepped up to the cauldron, knowing of what was coming, she readied herself as he drew a pair of metal tongs from within the burning cauldron.

Mercia presented her ring finger and he moved the tongs over before clamping down. Searing pain coursed through her body and she bit down on her lip as hard as she could to prevent any cries of pain escaping. Ælfwig had put away the tongs and pulled her in closer for a deep embrace as she nuzzled into him, he whispered into her ear:

"The pain is temporary, but the mark is forever, it symbolizes your commitment to the order" he then held her tighter and he could feel her arms wrap around him too as he cuddled her softly in front of the fire.

Mercia leant up for a kiss and Ælfwig provided happily; their lips brushed each others gently before they began to kiss more intimately – she had pushed him onto his back and she began to lie just over the top of him. Ælfwig was taken by surprise by her sudden dominance but didn't complain to it, he began to feel up and down her petite form and then pulled her in much closer as the kissing grew more and more passionate with tongues exploring each others mouths and then he rolled over so that he was on top and she was on the bottom.

Giggling slightly Mercia took to her new position by slipping her slender hands underneath Ælfwig's robes and feeling his chest (which she'd been meaning to do for a while but never gotten round to it). Unfortunately, Ælfwig removed her hands from under his clothes and gently kissed the burn mark on her finger – before kissing again on the back of her hand and then a few more light trailed kisses up her arm until he reached her collarbone where he started to plant a few more harder sucking kisses across her collarbone and then her neck all the while she held him tighter and her hands explored his back.

Not being one to allow herself to be pinned down, Mercia then flipped them over again before pulling his thin linen top off and exposing his well muscled torso; she then proceed to start kissing him fervently whilst he felt up her sides and then started playing with her small breasts, gently squeezing them to which Mercia responded by breaking the kiss and trailing down his neck. Softly at first before surprising him with a light bite in the hollow of his collar bone – he seemed to like this as she could read his body language and he wanted her to go on, so she proceeded to kiss down his chest enjoying his reactions as she would occasionally and plant harder sucking kisses much to his pleasure. Ælfwig however would yet be disappointed as just as Mercia stopped just after reaching the bottom of his chest, teasing him.

Clearly he wasn't happy about being teased as he decided to punish her by flipping them over again and removing her robes exposing her toned stomach; Ælfwig leant up and tried to undo her bra but he wasn't going to prevail as she pushed him back down onto his back before leaning into his ear and whispering that he was a naughty boy. Continuing in his naughty trend, he then pulled her back in for another passionate kiss before they were suddenly interrupted by something moving in the distance.

Ælfwig broke the kiss and looked up at a shadow that flickered past the cauldron – a wild beast he presumed. They both rose to their feet suddenly and he slowly moved towards the ruins (which in their little game of roly poly they had moved further away from without realising) whilst Mercia slipped back into her robes and then promptly joined him just on the outskirts of the ruins.

Signalling to her to not move until his order, Ælfwig then peered around from a small pillar which they were resting against – he could see a shadow just fly past the fire, but he could make out that it was a four legged beast with snarling jaws and fierce claws – a wolf possibly. Stealthily he creeped around the perimeter of the ruins until he had reached a pillar that was about half way around and taller than most of the other ones; and this was because like most things of the base – it had been designed by the assassins. Ælfwig pressed his insignia ring against another small notch (similar to the entrance pillar) and much to the astonishment of Mercia who was watching attentively from her designated safe spot as he activated this second mechanism. Then with very little effort he removed a sizable chunk of the solid stone revealing a hidden armoury – he pulled out two swords and tossed one back to Mercia before signalling her to move again and flank the beast.

With the nimbleness and precision of a mountain goat Mercia made her way around to the other side of Stonehenge without drawing the attention of the creature that lurked in the shadows in the ancient pagan ruins – Ælfwig gave her the signal to charge and they both lunged from their hiding spots and ran to the centre where the cauldron burned away dimly now. But there was no beast after all. Only Alfie who had decided to take a nap near the fire where it was bright and he was safe.

The two assassins shared a relieved laugh and then a deep embrace in the pleasant illumination of the dying flame before returning to the base for the night. An exhausted Mercia plonked straight down onto her bed joined by Ælfwig who cuddled her as she turned and nuzzled into him before happily falling to sleep; he smiled and watched her sleep before softly kissing her head and joining her in sweet dreams. After all he knew that tonight would be the last time they could share such special moments – tomorrow was the start of a new era: the end of the templars, and the killing the French ambassador would be the start of it all.

* The next morning *

Mercia was awoken once again by her little furry alarm clock; however this time he had chosen the more affectionate (if somewhat more disgusting) option of licking her face until she woke up. Happily accepting this she picked up the little pup and cradled him in her arms until a firm hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it and she sat up and looked around.

"Merci? Come on it's time to wake up now we need to ride south to London" Ælfwig called out to her trying his best not to be imposing.

"Uh.. what? Why?" her reply was rather groggy and she wasn't quite sure of what was going on but he explained it to her.

"Look alive sunshine: tonight Foulques l'Oison meets with King Harold and we cannot have that happening" Ælfwig pulled her out of bed before continuing "Pack up all of your stuff and meet me outside the ruins – we must leave within the next 20 minutes"

Mercia nodded and as soon as he left the room she slipped her robes on and then her personal decorated silver-black armour and attached the hidden blade to the inside of her vambrace before attaching Thorn and holster to the belt of her armour – she was ready. Upon reaching the top of the ruins Ælfwig had one last gift to present Mercia: a new horse – a powerful stallion with a glossy black coat and a thick mane.

Together they rode south, now that she could keep pace with his own horse at full gallop, conversation had run quite dry as she struggled just to not fall from her powerful steed. They carved their way through the scenic landscape: peaceful rolling verdant meadows devoid off all civilization except the occasional farm; small forest clearings which were peaceful and quiet and from time to time small towns where they would stop off to gather supplies.

Reaching the outskirts of London town Mercia was quite amazed at what she saw – she had never seen such a collection of people together in one place before; in all directions hurried crowds scuttled across the stone pavements all heading in different directions. The two assassins dismounted before walking into the heart of one of the bustling crowds – they were now one with the people, unseen to anyone on the outside.

This disguise served the two well as they managed to pass from crowd to crowd: from peasants in the farmlands surrounding the town to civilians in the market district then into the carnival performers outside of Westminster Abbey then finally a group of scholars that took them right into the Abbey itself without being detected. Once inside disguising with the crowds was no longer of any use to them so they sneakily broke off once in the main hall and took into a side passage away from the sight of any potential observers.

Mercia was amazed at what they saw as they traversed the internal halls of the abbey, the architecture was much more advanced than she'd saw before and the walls so were so intricately designed with exquisitely detailed etchings of prior kings and religious figures. Metal grates housing off different sections were also designed with an avid attention to detail, floral patterns and religious crosses and intricate arches all amazed her – she found it difficult to even concentrate on the mission at hand. It was only when Ælfwig called on her and whispered the plan into her ear that she starting paying more attention to the mission at hand:

"Merci I need your full attention ok? The meeting between Harold and Foulques is taking place in just a few hours in the crypt underneath the abbey – now I know that Harold is currently out of the town and is travelling here by royal escort, which some of our brothers in the north are working on holding up. Now comes our part – we need to kill Foulques and dispose of the body before Harold makes it to the abbey"

"Ok, how are we going to do this though, surely he'll have some kind of protection if he is the French ambassador? Mercia pondered but Ælfwig of course had pre-planned for that as well and assured Mercia that he had an ample distraction that would allow her to make the kill without drawing too much attention.

The two then finished working their way towards the dungeon underneath the abbey; it was dark and rancid and rats scurried around their feet and it was nothing like the pleasantries of the abbey above them. After being startled by a few decaying skeletal corpses behind rusted iron bars in decrepit little cells they encountered one alive prisoner – a sight which shocked Mercia even more than the dead ones.

"Right Merci you go on ahead, if you follow the route out of the dungeons you should find the crypt and once you're there hide out of sight until Foulques and his men appear" Ælfwig whispered to her, Mercia listened attentively and proceeded on by herself through the dreary darkness of the Westminster dungeon.

Collecting up all of her courage Mercia struggled on through the narrow corridors that twisted and spiralled around like something out of her nightmares – she was couldn't take anymore of it and had to go back and find Ælfwig but suddenly there was nothing but darkness in the opposite direction and a demonic skeletal hand seemed to emerge from the floor and grab at her leg. Furtively Mercia stomped at it but dared not venture any further back in the direction she came in – it seemed that something was willing her to continue in the direction she had started, was it that strange God again? Why would he not leave her alone she thought to herself.

Doing specifically as commanded she ventured further through the dungeon; past multiple decaying corpses and torture implements that were spiked and covered in rotting blood. Finally, she had made it to a large iron door that was partially open. Praising the merciful God that she had eventually been granted a release from this hell she slid the large rusting door open and with a crunching metallic shriek it gave way and swung open for her. However then Mercia thought on and remembered her mission and figured it would probably be a wise move for her to close the door again so that when Foulques arrived he wouldn't realise some one else was there.

The crypt was (whilst still rather unpleasant) a welcome change from the dungeon, the floor was stone and dry and there was no corpses laying about (they were in coffins) and the walls housed no prisoners but merely plain solid slabs of stone built up encasing the room in all angles and the flags of various houses of kings were draped on the walls: most recently the royal blue flag of Edward the Confessor with his insignia of a 4 armed golden cross with 5 golden birds. Mercia then scanned the room for an adequate place to hide herself whilst waiting – and that's when she had her most ingenious idea to date: an empty coffin. Using the hidden blade, she cut a small hole into the side of the casket so that she could observe the room and more importantly the impending arrival of the French ambassador.

It was difficult to breath and she nearly passed out a few times in the half an hour or so she was waiting; but Mercia promptly snapped back to reality when she heard mutters in French coming from just round the corner – she positioned herself so that her eye was aligned with the hole she had cut out and witnessed as the great iron door heaved open and three figures stepped into the room: two heavily armoured Norman knights with fearsome flamberges drawn in front of them and behind them stood the French ambassador himself, Foulques l'Oison.

He stood behind the two knights and Mercia couldn't make out too much detail but she could see that he had shoulder length black hair and was wearing ornate golden armoured chest plate that fitted over a royal French garment and when he turned she could just make out his cape which protruded from the fur collar of his outfit and was adorned with a blue lion on a red and white background. Foulques then ordered his knights to check for assassins – Mercia was shocked and frightened in equal measure – how did he know that she'd be coming for him?

A deep heavy stomping reverberated and echoed around the secret tomb; the two brutes approached her casket – she felt like it was over, any second now they'd open up the lid and she'd be caught and killed. A creaking sound shot through her ears and she could tell they were about to open it up. Mercia turned away and curled up. She knew it was over.

CRASH!

The knights turned from the coffin and looked away; a loud noise emanated from the dungeon and the two armoured brutes wasted no time charging towards the epicentre of this strange disturbance.

"Find l'assassin! Kill him! Séparés tête de ses épaules!" Foulques screamed after the two knights who had departed the crypt and left him unprotected.

Mercia realised that was the distraction that Ælfwig mentioned earlier and she capitalized on Foulques' vulnerable state; she quietly slid the lid of the casket off and charged at the French ambassador, covering his mouth before he could scream for help and stabbing him through the back with hidden blade.

"Imbécile! You know not what you do! We are all mere pieces on this échiquier we call life and you are a pawn! A fool! Marrionette!" Foulques spat his last words through the blood in his mouth at Mercia before succumbing to his injury and collapsing on the cold stone floor.

"May you find the peace in the next life that you couldn't find in this one, requiem in pace" Mercia gave the Frenchman his last rights before cleverly disposing the body in the empty coffin so that Harold would be none the wiser when he attended the meeting.

Fleeing from the scene of the assassination, Mercia encountered Ælfwig and the prisoner who had been freed and revealed himself as another assassin who had been captured with the bodies of the two knights at their feet surrounded in a pool of blood.

"Mercia! I'm so glad you're alive!" Ælfwig greeted her with a warm hug "What happened? Did you succeed?" he questioned her.

"I did it, Foulques lies dead and the body has been hidden" She replied solemnly.

Ælfwig nodded and hugged her again; she really needed that right now and didn't say anything just enjoyed the embrace. Once they had concluded their niceties the three assassins made their way out of the dungeon following the winding twisting pathway back to the abbey. They couldn't walk out though, they'd be seen easily be the guards patrolling the site – the only way to get out would be to blend with the denizens of the evening mass which was currently taking place; the three assassins took their places on the pews in the back of the main hall and pretended to be paying attention to the priest as he spoke, but they took the opportunity to talk amongst themselves quietly and to plan an escape of the town.

"Greetings fellow assassins thank you for liberating me from that infernum foramen – allow me to introduce myself. My name is Taillefer, I am the master of the French assassins' guild and the head of the resistance against Norman rule. I was imprisoned here by Harold when he thought I was working for William, we need to get out of here now but when we get to New Minster I'll be able to give you more useful information" The French assassin explained himself.

From what Mercia could see of him he was quite a tall man – he seemed quite skinny but that was likely to be due to his imprisonment; he had messy black hair and thin pencil line moustache that sat above his upper lip and extended past the edges and down to his chin were it met with a small goatee.

"New Minster has been compromised; we've relocated our main base to Stonehenge – and how do you know all of this? Have you trained here before?" Ælfwig questioned him, to which he responded with a light-hearted laugh and went on to explain more.

"Can't you remember? We trained together when we were younger before I went to France?" Taillefer seemed sincere and Ælfwig trusted him on it and he did remember vaguely.

"Ah! I remember now! Welcome back friend"

One of the guards looked in their direction and the ceased talking to each other and feigned taking part in mass

* 20 minutes later *

"Mass has concluded, go now my children and live in service of the Lord" The priests dreary voice finally echoed its final repetitive religious slur.

The congregation then took to their feet before assembling an orderly queue before an en mass exodus of the Abbey to which the three assassins easily blended into and escaped from the guards who were patrolling in search of the missing French ambassador. Once they had escaped from the town and saddled up their horses (well Taillefer stole a guards horse since he didn't have one) they all rode away from London; they had a lot to talk about on the long trip back to Stonehenge.

**Lost in Azura's Translation Guide:**

**Latin to English:**

**Nihil esse verum****; licet omnia - Nothing is true; everything is permitted**

**Requiem in pace - Rest in peace **

**French to English:**

**L'assassin ****- The assassin**

**Séparés**** tête ****de ses épaules - Seperate his head from his shoulders**

**Imbécile**** - Imbecile**

**É****chiquier - Chessboard**

**Marrionette**** - Puppet**

**Infernum ****foramen - Hell hole**

**Thanks for reading people please R&R and I'd be glad to answer any of your questions, comments or ideas – also who do you think Mercia should go after next, consult the list in chapter 5 thank you **


End file.

Assassin's Creed, Adventure, Romance