Assassin's Creed: Firewall

Words of Tongue and Pen

The two assassins talked for some time while Emma let her thoughts wander towards the far distant future, towards endings she may never see and events she'll never know about.

"I have yet to divine their true intentions for coming to the funeral," Altair's voice jolted her back to the past as he stepped through the doorway, Malik on his heels. Whatever they had talked about privately had lifted some unseen weight from their shoulders. Both men appeared more relaxed than Emma could ever recall seeing. The hostility was gone, replaced by....well she wouldn't call it friendship, but mutual respect. "The people are divided, many call for their lives, but others believe they come to parlay, to make peace."

"Peace?" Malik physically took a step back while Emma's brows shot up. Peace? How in the hell would the very men associated with tyrants and slave traders be after peace?

"I have told you, the others I slain have said as much to me." His eyes tracked over the cop, who frowned in turn. It made little and less sense. The men he'd killed had been terrible people, causing terror and strife wherever they ruled. What peace they might have achieved would have been through fear, a mob's rule.

"That would make them our allies and yet we kill them." Malik sounded confused, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Make no mistake, we are nothing like these men. Though their goal sounds noble, the means by which they would achieve it are not. At least, that is what Al Mualim told me." A snake of ice slithered down Emma's spine at the name of the Assassin's Master. It would seem that he was trying to do good, to prevent the mob from taking over and ruling the countryside in whatever manner they saw fit.

And yet, it still sat sour in her mouth. Emma could not believe the Master would do something like this simply for the good of the people. He did nothing to help those targeted by the raiders, he tried extracting information from her with torture simply to gain a potential edge over others of this century.

Yes, Al Mualim was convincing his best that the enemy was the Templars and while Emma could find no fault there, it all still rather conveniently focused the assassin's sole attention on the enemy in front of him. Just what was the endgame here?

"So what is your plan?" Malik asked, leaning against the doorway. No matter what Al Mualim was up to, they did have a bad guy that needed dealing with now. Whatever the leader was doing, they could face later.

"I will attend the funeral and confront Robert." Emma blinked, raising a brow at the short answer. That was hardly a plan. As Eliot might have once said, that sounded like one of her hair brained plans. It was too easy, too simple, too much fanfare over Robert attending this little event.

"The sooner the better." Malik handed the assassin a white feather and Emma couldn't help but disagree with them. It all sounded....too put together. If all of his targets had really been a part of a single group, then there was simply no way said group hadn't noticed his work yet, not with such public figures, not when their leader was attending the funeral of one of his men.

"I don't think it's a good idea," she interjected, chewing her bottom lip. Both men turned to look at her, a silent question in their regard. "They know you're here or suspect you to be. I think they might have set a trap."

She'd put money on it being a trap, but she didn't have any actual proof. Just the words of an annoyed soldier and a gut feeling.

"Even so, I cannot risk missing this chance. There may not be another before it is too late," Altair tucked the feather into his belt. "They will not be prepared for me to expect a trap. The advantage is still on our side."