Deviance

The Wily Outfoxed

Another hazy day. The entire scene about me is nothing but a dappled gray cityscape. So dull. Lifeless almost. It had been like that for nine consecutive days. The Templar inquisition seems to be a failing scheme with not a single Assassin executed, let alone captured. The city had quietened. Anticipation, it seemed, for something great to happen. The calm before the storm.

Then a bell tolls.

It continues into a frantic ringing of panic and dismay. A death toll as it may be. The storm has begun it would seem. I turn to look at the fortress the distance, the source of the tolling. A very faint distant commotion could be heard carried across the rooves. Something was happening.

And it did. I look to see a white hooded figure pull itself upon onto the roof some forty metres before me.

'Stop!' I call, 'You're not meant to be up here'.

The paltry warning would have an effect; it was a simple establishment of my presence. I nock an arrow and raise my bow. The Assassin has already noticed me. I draw the arrow back. But I have no intention to fire; by the time the Assassin has reached for a throwing knife and flung it in a precise fluid motion at me, I have already turned around and crouched. The knife deflects harmlessly off of the shield I had pre-emptively strapped to my back. I turn back around and raise my bow again, but the Assassin has already sprinted past me, dismissing the minor threat I pose as he leaps of the edge of the roof and into the street below. I sling my bow and sprint after him.

Already I can hear the shouts of pursuing guards and Templar knights as they rampage brutishly through the streets. I look back; both upon the rooves and in the streets, guards and soldiers are in pursuit of this killer. I look to the pack of Templar knights in the street below. Above all of the commotion I can distinctly hear the curses of a French Templar at the lead of the mob, brandishing his sword above his head menacingly.

Instead of entering the street I leap across the alleyway to the adjacent building following the Assassin from the rooftops. He is lithe; swiftly weaving throughout the crowds. He will nimbly leap up wicker crates to avoid the guards blocking the street. He will jump, tuck and roll through merchant stands and use thugs milling about the streets to slow down the pursuers. He is wily, but sometimes, a fox will get caught.

He has entered the back alleys; I leap down into the street and sprint after him. These areas are less populated. Less guards. An easy place to hide. I here footsteps from the rooftops. I glance back to see several archers bearing the emblem of King Richard upon their chests following my progress.

This may prove difficult, I think to myself. I continue following the Assassin, regardless of the gap that seems to grow between us due to the his superior fitness. He turns down another alley, one of considerable length. There at the end of the alley, upon the threshold of a junction stands a Templar knight, his back to the Assassin now bearing down upon him.

'Assassin!' I call to the knight, 'Behind you! An Assassin—'

The execution of the Assassin's kill was something poetic; he leaps, covering the distance between himself and the knight ever so quick. Left arm raised, I notice the glint of the wrist blade. He grabs the shoulder of the knight with his right, slams the blade into the throat before pushing the knight to the ground.

My only regret is to not have been pleasured with the sight of the Assassin's face, once having realised he had just murdered a straw-filled effigy, adorned with Templar arms and garments. He had been fooled. Outfoxed. And now he was going to pay for his mistake.

Directly after this, the heavy boot of Bernard of Yale swung hard and strong into the abdomen of the Assassin. He followed the blow by grounding the left arm of the killer with his foot before manacling the wrist to a cart of which had been placed there, ready and waiting for the Assassin's transportation. By this time I have already sprinted over, tied a hessian sack over his hooded head and proceeded to manacle the right hand to the cart also.