Souls Through Time (EzioxOC/DesmondxOC)

Chapter 30 - Amelia

As dawn's first light crept over the horizon, casting a muted glow across the fields, Amelia, Ezio, and Bartolomeo gathered with the disguised mercenaries just north of the Baron's camp. The early morning mist clung to the air, lending an eerie silence as Bartolomeo's men, now dressed in the enemy's armor, made last-minute adjustments to their uniforms. The clang of metal and the murmur of low voices filled the space as they worked swiftly, each soldier double-checking the clasps and plates on their borrowed armor, ready to blend seamlessly into the ranks of Valois' forces.

Amelia scanned the crowd with a slight frown. There was no armor that could fit her; her role in the plan was different. She would scout ahead, eliminate any stray guards who might become suspicious, and ensure a clear path for Ezio and the disguised soldiers. It was risky work, but she felt a familiar thrill—this was what she had trained for, and she welcomed the challenge.

Bartolomeo glanced over his shoulder and barked in his usual booming voice, "Bring me a suit of that perverted armor!"

Ezio stepped in, his tone calm and authoritative. "You are not wearing one."

Bartolomeo raised a bushy brow, momentarily taken aback. "What?"

"It's part of the plan," Ezio replied, a slight smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You'll be surrendering to us. We're taking you to the Baron."

A glint of understanding passed over Bartolomeo's face as he realized Ezio's strategy. "Ah, yes! Then what?"

"Your men will attack on my signal," Ezio explained, glancing at Bartolomeo's men, who were now fully armored and standing at attention.

Bartolomeo gave a hearty chuckle, his voice carrying across the makeshift camp. "Bene! Go change into costume, then. Dawn approaches."

Ezio nodded, giving Amelia a quick, steadying glance before turning to the men. "Get into formation!"

Amelia moved forward with the practiced grace of a shadow, each step calculated, each movement fluid and soundless. The faint morning mist cloaked the world in a quiet shroud, making every sound—a snapping twig, a whisper of wind against leaves—seem amplified. Her senses were heightened, attuned to the subtlest shifts around her, her gaze sharp as she scanned the path for any sign of movement. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, steady and sure, grounding her as she slipped through the trees, her form almost blending into the mist itself.

Ahead, a faint rustling caught her attention. A patrol of soldiers moved through the underbrush, their attention fixed ahead as they scouted the perimeter. Amelia's hand drifted to the hilt of her hidden blade, her fingers brushing the cool steel as she waited in silence, her body still and poised. As they passed, she melted from the shadows, her steps light and precise as she closed the distance. In one swift, fluid motion, her blade struck, finding its mark. The guard crumpled soundlessly to the ground, and she eased his weight down to the earth, her movements as gentle as they were deadly.

She straightened, her gaze already sweeping forward. One by one, she eliminated the remaining guards in the patrol, each encounter a silent dance of movement and strike. Her kills were efficient, calculated; each guard went down without a sound, her blade a whisper of death in the mist. By the time she rejoined the group, she had taken down six guards, leaving no trace of their approach. Her heart pounded with adrenaline, but her face remained composed, focused.

As they neared the fortress gates, Ezio signaled her with a slight nod, his expression a mixture of admiration and gratitude. She moved toward him and Bartolomeo, her mind already shifting to the next stage of the mission. Ezio quickly outlined a change of plans—they would need another "prisoner" to make their approach more believable, and that role would fall to her.