Hawks and Eagles

Clipped Wings

You had watched the massive prison for some time, a graphite gray structure dark against the sandstone city. You gathered words here and there from passing soldiers and you offered coin to any beggar that would give you information. You learned of a sewer entrance on the east side of the building that led straight into the lowest levels and nearest to your objective.

You worked your way around the small patrols and followed the foul tunnels into the belly of the fort. It was eerily silent save the drips of water and the occasional rat that scurried across the stone edges of the tunnel. Luckily the labyrinth led right into the dungeon, rows upon rows of prison cells and they were all filled with mindless and wasting men.

You skirted along the shadows, evading the few guards that passed by. They were lazy and complacent, hardly expecting anyone to target the prisons. And why would they? But their laziness made them a fine target.

You reached out from the shadows of your nook and wrapped a hand over his mouth. Your other arm hooked across his neck, anchoring him against you. He struggled but you had an advantage over him. You squeezed his throat until he relented. "Where are the archives? How do I get to them?"

"Archives?" He shifted his weight nervously against you.

You remained calm, your voice holding steady, "They are below this floor. How do I reach them?"

He hesitated, as if he didn't realize there was an archive in the lowest level. "Let me go. I'll take you there." He tried to struggle again with fear and uncertainty setting in.

You couldn't take him and risk his presence drawing attention. You pressed the tip of the hidden blade against his skin as a warning which easily convinced him to quiet. "Tell me where they are."

"The stairs. At the end of the hall." Before he could plead for his life or protest again, the blade thrusted forward and ended his words. You couldn't let him live and there was no time to strangle him.

You hurried forward, relying on Eagle Vision to show you how many guards remained. You sauntered through the rest of the hall, finding it empty as you reached the stairs. Shockingly, no one was posted downstairs guarding the entrance. The door, however, was locked and you didn't have time to search for the key.

You used the short blade to pry between the stone and wood, wrenching it fervently until the latch gave way and broke. The door swung open, nearly clapping into the wall behind it but you grabbed hold of it just in time. You stalked cautiously through the room, yours eyes weaving across bookshelves, countless priceless artifacts and numerous tomes. There were so many books that you couldn't have counted them if you stayed down there for days.

You analyzed each shelf and stepped towards those that had the least amount of dust, the books and tomes that were most recently placed or used. You then took note of how everything was organized. Shipping manifests for every major city and all of its satellites were posted behind a desk, al-Rahman was thrown together with Damascus. You grabbed the entirety of the large manifest and tied it down onto your back with your sash, creating a poorly made bag.

There was another door in the room and you had hoped it would lead to another exit. You let your Eagle Vision sweep throughout the chamber before prying the door open and peeking inside. Prison cells, you realized and you pushed the door further. There was only a few prisoners and you planned to leave them to their fate until...

You barely made out the faded red and dingy white of Assassins robes. He was stripped of all weapons and gear, left to be humiliated in the barest of his tunics. You debated with yourself because you were running out of time and his weight would slow you down.

You hung your head low, shoulder leaning into the doorway. You killed that guard. And now, here you were planning on leaving an innocent man behind.