Assassin's Creed Imagines, Preferences, Theories etc.

Imagine #6 Arno

The crowd started claping and cheering at the moment that the man's decapitated head fell into the humble straw basket and the fortunate few who had the chance to be right at the front laughed as it rolled to a guard's feet. Soon the street urchins would find it between the huge number of people, get really excited and indulge in using it as a ball until it was either stolen by a hungry dog or so rotten that the smells of the gutter seemed like a wonderful and expensive flask of perfume in the Queen's room compared to the stench coming from the head's bloated skin.

A fat woman reeking of sweat and clotted blood (indicating she was a butcher of some kind) gave us a wide sardonic smile, showing a mouth filled with mostly rotten teeth. "He's next!" She chirped and I had to hold my breath to escape the mix of smells coming from her. "They'll kill him next..."

"We want to get closer" I clutched my overcoat in my hands.

The woman shook her head, a lock of greasy hair fell in front of her face, she pushed it back, it stuck right away. "Don't you dare touch his corpse! I wanna nab them shoes and buttons... this shit pays well"

Arno, who had been silent until then, decided to intervene. "Relax... We only want to take a better look at him..."

She snorted, then stopped paying attention to us.

"Come, he'll be there soon"
I start pushing people aside, but the closer we get the more difficult it is.

"Reminds me of those awful markets you dragged me in..." Arno complains. "Remember that time you had to get a dress for that banquet and..."

"Shhh..." I interrupt him by squeezing his arm. "Or we'll be next up there..."

That is what France has come to.

He sighs. "Right..."

As they bring Francois on the scaffold, the crowd erupts in shouts and booing. A man in front of us wearing the tricoloured concarde on his coat spits on the ground cussing uncontrollably under his breath. He gives me a wild stare as I try to push him aside. "Where's your pin? You belong up there with the other filth" Drops of saliva escape his mouth as he speaks.

"Forgot them at home" Arno answers, fortunately, "We would miss it if we went back to get them"

The answer doesn't seem to satisfy the man though. "Fucking nobles! You deserve to get gutted like the pigs you are..."

None of us answer this time, as a few people decide to let us pass.

We are now standing but a few feet away, blocked only by the guardsmen. Francois looks over the crowd, he has teared up, while a man with a tricoloured hat on reads over his crimes. "Friend of the nobility... Assistant of the King... Lover of the tyranny and oppression over the citizens of Paris and France... Enemy of the Revolution..."
All that for helping some duke's 7 year old daughter get out of her family's burning mansion and giving her shelter- combined with a few enemies here and there and a history of friendships with a few known members of the nobility. He became 45 last July and yet there he is looking 20 years older, grey in his dirty coat and destroyed shoes. I wonder what that woman with the greasy hair hopes to steal... I can swear he gave everything he had to the guards for a piece of dry bread.

Arno's eyes are fixed in him. "Poor man... I could try to distract the guards... give him time to escape..."

"You would end up dead on the spot or waiting for your death and I can't lose you too..." I take my eyes off Francois to look at him. "A dead brother is enough for today..."  

They push Francois down on the wooden board, stick his head through the guillotine's hole.

The man with the Revolution's colours on his hat pulls the rope, the blade hisses,  my brother's head rolls into the empty basket.
The crowd starts cheering again. The people behind us are literally screaming in our ears. Someone starts singing the Marseillaise. They always do that after the last execution of the day. Francois was apparently the grand finale.

Allons, enfants de la Patrie

Arno squeezes my hand. He knowns I am about to burst into tears. "They will notice. They will get you, too. Please, try to hold them back."
"I know. Arno?"
"What is it?"
"We have to get his body. I can't leave him to the rats and the stray dogs."
"I know... We won't... We'll come back later."

Le jour de gloire est arrivé!

"Arno..."
"Yes?"
"Thank you... For coming..."
I never learn if he hears me, but even if he does, he remains silent.

Contre nous, de la tyrannie
L'étendard sanglant est levé
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes

"Come" he says eventually. "Let's get out of here..."
It seems like he is talking through glass. I don't know if that is due to the people singing or him or me being zoned out. Eventually he takes my hand and we leave the crowded square after a lot of pushing.

Mugir ces féroces soldats?
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras
Égorger nos fils, nos compagnes!

I look back at the wooden scaffold once only to see the executioners throw my brother's body into the cart together with the other unfortunate. Over the huge sea of heads inbetween it looks as if they were throwing around not a human body, but a doll- a mannequin like those one can find in the clothing and tailor shops in Versailles.

Like those one could once find in Versailles, I correct myself. I doubt there is any smart tailor who dares show his noble wares on those mannequins anymore...

"Come..." Arno repeats himself and I take my eyes off the wooden platform.

Aux armes, citoyens!
Formez vos bataillons

We hurry to a nearby alley and walk along the Seine and by then the singing crowd has turned into just a muffled sound in the distance.

he day is unusually hot... and the stench of the river seems almost unbearable in the beginning- the Open Sewage did not get its name without a reason. I can feel the sun burn my head and I start walking in the shade parallel to the buildings. I would have servants holding umbrellas over my head once... Or I would ride around in a carriage, eating fruits and drinking cold wine with my brother... 

My dead brother...  It's just me and Arno now... 

He smiles a little when he notices I try to avoid the sun. He knows I grew up a little spoiled and he would still never make fun of me...

Especially not today...

Marchons, marchons!

Qu'un sang impur

Arno hears that they dump the bodies of the executed along the riverbank, towards the tanners' district and that's where we go once night has fallen. And after a while of searching frantically we find him and after another hour we find his head. 

Abreuve...  

No, Arno does because I would not be able to stay on my two feet if I had found his bloated face. And then we ride to the outskirts and that's where we lay him to rest. And then we stay there until sunrise, next to the shallow, nameless grave that is my brother's. Arno stays silent during the whole procedure. As the sun starts appearing in the horizon, I finally find the courage to speak.

...nos sillons!  

"So many things we did wrong... So much hate..."

But it's only loud enough for me to listen, and Arno never hears it.  

Somewhere behind my back a crow caws in the distance.

.