Assassin's Creed Imagines, Preferences, Theories etc.

Imagine #4: Shay

My, my... It has been so long! I've missed this! Sorry for not posting a thing for so long... School sucks out all of my time and energy :'(

"Do you ever wonder why we are here?"

The question first came unexpectedly, while we were spending a few days in Albany, long after Shay's return from France. It had been just a routine voyage - we were only supposed to contact a few spies here and there, hidden in hunters' settlements or Canadian towns of the North. Shay had taken advantage of his time on the other side of the Atlantic to help our brothers and sisters in Lisbon, where Templars were still fighting to gain control once again, and the people were struggling with putting their lives back together after that legendary earthquake. So many years had past, and still their wounds were open, their loss bigger than everything Shay had ever faced. He had returned from his little trip looking much older than before. He would always refuse to talk about what he witnessed back there. 

"Do you ever wonder why we are here?" 

I came back from my daydreaming, only to come face to face with my friend, who was holding his glass of gin in his hands, his fingers tapping on the once crystal-clear material. Over is shoulder, a group of drunken sailors were playing cards and despite the tavern being half-full, the faint sound of the musicians' playing could be heard in the distance.

"Many times..." I finally answered. "I believe that those who never wonder cannot be considered wise..."

"I am sorry, you misunderstood my question..." He let out a sigh. Not to taunt me, but more to take courage himself. "We both have witnessed death taking many lives. You fought in the Seven Years War yourself, you saw the disgusting side of war and..."

"War, I interrupted, is plainly disgusting, and brutal. It turns human souls into beasts and people into pieces of meat... It has no other side..."

"Definitely, but you know what my point is..." After the questioning glare I gave him, he proceeded to explain that not many actually see its real side.  

"Those are fools..."

"Or rulers... It is always what the leaders want. The kings, the princes, the upper classes... Those are the ones deciding who leaves and who stays..."

I took a gulp out of my own glass, more to keep myself from commenting on his seemingly new-found innocence. He was a grown man, but he was taking like a pupil - stating things already obvious.

"And we are the ones deciding who lives and who dies" I smiled after saying that, consuming the sweetness of the Order's power like cold water in the scorching sun.

He chuckled, but I knew that something was burdening him.  He spent a few moments staring at his glass, his fingers never stopping their constant, nervous tapping.

"Why are you asking, by the way?"

"Hm?"

"You always were the philosopher... Why are you wondering about our... challenging existence?"

"Like I said, he murmured, you have seen how war works. Your brother was killed in an ambush... That's what you told me once, didn't ye?"

I could feel my heart tighten at his words. "Yes, he got shot. I was right next to him"

"You escaped death by chance. Were you inches closer, you might have taken the bullet yourself..." He looked straight at me now, as if trying to witness every tiny detail of my expression.

I took my eyes off him, shutting them, remembering every tiny detail of that day. Timothy running next to me, through the woods to warn the others at the camp, French chasing us, our breaths coming out in white clouds, feet digging into the muddy earth and the broken branches. And a bullet, a tiny little bullet. And my brother's face turning to look at me, before his skull shattered into hundreds bloodied pieces. Me falling down, another bullet carving my skin.