Hawks and Eagles

The Eagle's Pride

You were up early the next day, enjoying the spices from your morning cup of hot tea and the fragrant smell of burning sandalwood incense. You fed the stray feline that cascaded down the walls of the parlor, mewing for its morning meal, a routine the both of you were accustomed to.

You checked your gear as well as the belt of your new sword, preparing yourself for the long and difficult task of hunting down your Assassin. You raked back your hair and threw up your hood. You left the feasting cat for the early morning crowds, the bazaars already filling with the shouts of prices, the smells of fresh caught fish infused with the nearby spices and fruit, the sounds of distant bells ringing throughout the city signaling the dawn.

The sun made her climb over the horizon, bringing with her the light of day and a subtle warmth to chase off the night chill. You sought out the highest point in the Poor District that conveniently overlooked the marketplace. You listened to the crowds for any criers who might shout fragments of important news, something that might lead you closer to your target. Unfortunately for you, they only spouted their typical information, the whole of the city somewhat uneventful.

You focused your senses, blocking out unnecessary noises and distractions. Eagle Vision, your master had called it, the greatest gift of any Assassin. In the center of the courtyard, next to the large faded gray fountain stood an informant, clothed in white and red. It was obvious he was waiting, his eyes glancing about the passing crowds in search of a particular person, his hands clutching tight onto the bag at his side.

You scanned the area, eager to seek out the bright white robes of the Assassin. He approached, blending well with the people around him, not at all arousing the suspicions of the guards. His movements were an enjoyable sight, each step as powerful and determined as the next. He was unafraid, unfaltered by the world around him.

You rolled your shoulders and flexed the muscles of your back. You pulled the scarf up over your mouth and steadied your breathing in preparation. You leapt from your perch, arms wide and landed into the hay cart below. You slipped out of there, brushed off the straw, then hurried through the twists of a back alley to climb the walls of the building near their conversation. You crouched down, your ears straining to hear any amount of detail, zoning out any other sounds.

"This is all there was?" He did not appear pleased, and as you peeked a glance at them, he was riffling through a cluttered mess of old parchment.

He sounded younger, his tone nervous, "Yes, Altaïr, those were the only documents I could find."

One of the parchments caught his eye. He looked it over carefully while handing back the rest. He lowered the document before nudging his informant with a flick of his chin. "Come with me."

You tensed, each muscle tightening as you readied yourself to quietly tail them. They walked into the flow of traffic as you followed across rooftops and the rickety wooden planks that served as makeshift walkways for guards on patrol.

"This map of the city will serve our purpose," he told the informant, blunt and cold, his tone hardly wavering from bitter. "I shall have the Bureau located soon enough. Is there any other news that you bring me?"

The Bureau, you worried. Your home.

There was the sound of a harsh sigh as you crept along the edges of a building overhead. "I have tried to bribe our typical sources but they refuse our advances. It is very odd but I think someone else has their favor."

You grinned, knowing well who it was.

Altaïr released an exasperated huff, sounding more irritated with the informant than the news. "Then I will have to deal with that matter personally."