Assassin's Creed: Join the Rooks

Prologue - Child of Misery

London, a city on the way to its apogee. It was becoming a city of wealth and opportunity. The craziest minds imagined and realised the technologies of the future. London was becoming the capital of progress. But was this technological and scientific advance as brilliant as it seemed? Was it not a Devil's deal? Was it with a sky darkened by the black smoke spewed out by factory machines and trains that the future would be bright? Was it by killing workers, earning a pittance to survive, that we were building a better world? A world of justice? London may have become the capital of the world, but it was oppressing the poorest of the poor, living in squalor.

This poverty was ignored by most of the wealthier families, from the middle class to the very highest. For many, it was normal to exhaust the workers so that the city could shine. No matter how much misery and oppression they read about in the newspapers, most didn't care. All they cared about was their daily editions, which they paid a few pennies for. They didn't even care who distributed them. Children didn't just work in factories, they worked just about everywhere, despite the laws. Labour was cheaper, for the factories they were tools, and for the newspapers they were a way of attracting customers with their angelic faces despite the dirt of poverty.

In Whitechapel, one of these children had been selling her newspapers from an old workbench for three years now. Holding up with both hands a copy of the day's edition, she handed them out for a few pennies, shouting out the headlines from the London World News. The train station was the perfect place to sell off her stock for the day. Not everyone took their paper, but she still managed to have a pretty full pocket at the end of the day.

When her work was done, she set off on foot to return home. She passed a lot of people who knew her. Some adults, who could afford it, gave a few pennies for the twelve-year-old brunette. Many smiled to see her skipping along the pavements from time to time. For in spite of her misery, she remained smiling and cheerful. In spite of hard work and a tough life, she kept her childlike spirit. Her joie de vivre was contagious, or evoked nostalgia in some of the people she saw passing by. Then a voice called out to the brunette, who stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes looking in the direction of the voice that had called her.

– Are you coming to play with us?" asked the boy with a ball in his hands.

The young girl smiled even wider, happy to be asked to join him and the other children behind him.

– I'll be right there, Ernest!

The young dark-haired boy, the same age as her, was delighted to see the little newspaper seller cross the street to join him. The two of them entered the cul-de-sac from which Ernest had come, with the others shouting the name of the newcomer with joy. In their play area, they juggled the ball before passing between themselves. Some bragged about their ability, then were disappointed and mocked when they failed. It was laughter and camaraderie that could warm the hearts of everyone who passed by. Then the games resumed. But with the day the brunette had just had, she finally signalled that she wanted to take a break. Sitting down on the ground, her back against the wall, she suggested to the others that they should continue, and that she would watch them. Not wanting to leave her alone, Ernest also decided to stop for a moment and joined her, his buttocks on the ground. But the others, two or three years younger than the two brunettes, wanted to do the same, but the leader of the gang refused and insisted that they continue playing.

– Ooooh! Ernest is in love with Victoria! Ahah!!!" laughed one of them before the others imitated kisses with grimaces.

– They're going to get lots of kisses!" said another, rubbing the tips of his index fingers together.

The brunette blushed and looked down, not knowing how to react to this. As for Ernest, he stood up abruptly, fists clenched, and denied completely.

 – Go play!" he ordered firmly, his insides boiling.