Test of Faith

Chapter 1

"Sir."

A polite knock sounded at the wooden door, catching the man's attention. He looked up from the journal he was writing in at his desk to look at the door. "Come in."

He set his pen down as the door opened, revealing a second man as he entered the room and closed the door silently behind him. "One of the others caught wind of something that I felt needed your attention," he began, taking a few polite steps forward.

The man seated tilted his head slightly in curiosity. "What do you mean?" The second man took a deep breath as he approached; "Another addition."

Immediately the man went back to his journal, waving his companion off. "Please, we have recruited plenty of people to our cause, there is no need," he said dismissively.

"Sir, please - just look." A picture was set down on top of the journal, making the man sigh as he set his blue eyes on the drawing. "What is this?" he asked in confusion, holding the picture up to his lantern.

The graphite had been smudged near the center of the drawing, which consequently blurred out of the face of a person. They wore a unique set of robes, with intricate detail as well as darker and lighter highlights. "Potential."

The blue-eyed man looked up at his friend for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the drawing. He narrowed his eyes as he examined the robes once more. There was something odd yet alluring about them, and he couldn't seem to pry his eyes off of the sheet of paper.

"Curious...most curious."

~~~~

"Who gave you this, Thomas?" The blue-eyed man was sat at a large round table with five other men. He was sat facing the youngest of the men, who was leaned back in his chair with his legs on the table.

He gestured casually towards the paper. "Some bugger I robbed off the street," he said nonchalantly. Almost simultaneously, the five other men sighed in both annoyance and disappointment. "You never cease to amaze me, Thomas," one muttered under his breath.

The boy wrinkled his nose. "A 'thank you' would suffice, Bill," he muttered, but his statement was ignored. "Did you get any information at all about who this might be?" the blue-eyed man asked, catching the boy's attention.

Thomas scoffed proudly. "'Course I did - that lad's been behind every killin' at them riots, been scarin' all them city people. Been blamin' it all on the other side, y'know?" he explained.

The men at the table exchanged looks with each other, processing the boy's words. "Is that why he wears their robes? To fool everyone?" another man asked.

"Ay, does a fockin' good job, too," Thomas replied. The blue-eyed man hummed in acknowledgement. "Then we must find the person you stole this from and question them further," he declared, standing up.

"Come along, Thomas." The boy immediately groaned in annoyance, but he reluctantly followed his companion anyway.

~~~~

"If all these fockers would move out of the fockin' way so we can fockin' see." Even an innocent bystander could tell just how irked the blue-eyed man was with the boy's swearing.

He walked behind Thomas as he led the way, so he wasn't able to see the clenched jaw or the roll of the eyes. "Ay, I think that's him! Oi, mate!" the boy suddenly called. He jogged forward towards a building, and the man spotted a slumped over form against the wall.

"Y-you again! Wh-what more do y-you want from me?!" the old man cried, cowering under Thomas. The boy looked back to see his companion's unimpressed expression. "Oh come on, don' gi'me that look," he grumbled, turning back to the older man.

"Relax, mate, my friend's jus' got some questions for ya," he reassured, taking a step back. The elderly man's tired eyes looked up as the blue-eyed man stepped forward.

"My name is Haytham Kenway, and I apologize on behalf of my man's behaviour towards you," he began confidently. He could hear Thomas complaining under his breath, but he ignored him as he pulled out the paper.

He showed it to the older man. "How did you acquire this drawing?" he asked politely. The man scoffed, lifting his chin. "I didn't 'acquire' it - I drew it meself," he said proudly.

At that Thomas took a step forward; "So you saw who this was?" he asked, his voice low. The older man shifted uncomfortably; "Maybe I did...maybe I didn't," he countered boldly - or stupidly.

Thomas lunged for him, harshly grabbing the collar of his shirt. "You mother- !" A hand was placed on the boy's shoulder, interrupting him; "That's quite enough, Thomas," Haytham said calmly.

He pulled his enraged companion back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few euros. "Do you know who this is?" he asked again, holding up the drawing as the man took the coins.

His tired eyes flashed between Haytham and Thomas before settling back on Haytham. "No." Thomas nearly lunged again if not for Haytham's arm blocking him.

"But...locals around here have seen 'im - scrawny looking kid, probably no taller than me," the man continued. Haytham sighed, pursing his lips - all this trouble for what is presumed to be a child? "He got a name?" Thomas asked gruffly. "Yah - we call 'im Tacitus."