Assassination

*Sorry if not all spelling/grammar correct, wrote this bit w/o any editing

1405 - The city of Vienna was silent, all except the rustling of the priest’s robes. The man in his early 60s rushed across the street into the park adjacent to the cathedral, his black robes billowing behind him as though a luxurious royal cape. His bald forehead gleamed with moister, even though others he passed that night had already bundled tight for the winter cold. The holy man knew someone was after him tonight, and this person was diligent. He needed the sanctuary of the cathedral, for he knew it might be the only way for him to live throughout the night.


As the priest picked up his pace, the shadowy figure moved a few feet from the wall of the building on the edge of the park. Avenir, a French assassin and a prominent member of The Assassins Guild, kept an eye on his mark. He knew the priest would die tonight, and like his body, his knowledge would go to the grave. It was not the assassin’s job to reveal this information, only to bury it. 


Dressed in dark leather and steel plate armour, the assassin looked dangerous from close up and whenever he traveled, others made certain they did not approach him. His dark, wide brimmed hat obscured his face, and his leather overcoat concealed his many deadly tools. Carrying no less than three flintlock pistols and at least a dozen knives and swords with him at all times, Avenir was not a man to be trifled with. As a highly sought after mercenary, the assassin had been in much more perilous and violent situations than tonight could ever become. The simple task of dispatching such a weak victim amused the assassin to a point where he did not use his full awareness that is required in many cases. Tonight was easy money in his pocket, so long as he kept his feet on the ground.

As the priest walked into the park on the north side of the church, the wind gusted with a sudden ferocity. Behind him, caught up in his own internal dealings, Avenir was slow to throw himself against a building for protection from the sudden surge. The wind hit him, sending his leather overcoat flapping against the wind, breaking the silence that had engulfed the area. The element of surprise was gone.

The priest wheeled when the sharp noise echoed through the park. Pulling his flintlock pistol out of his robes, he aimed into the street he had just come out of. The stranger stood there bewildered, as if shocked he had been caught of guard. The priest fired the pistol aiming for the would-be assassins heart, hoping with all his will on striking true and deadly. As the white puff of smoke dissipated, he turned, discarded the used weapon amongst the bushes, and ran, praying to God to let him live.

Avenir stood dazed. He had never been so thoughtless in any mission he had ever taken. He had to think quickly if he was to finish the job and eliminate the priest. Any plan that the assassin had devised before was dismissed.

When the priest fired his pistol, the metal ball hit Avenir squarely in the chest. To Avenir’s great fortune, he was wearing a metal breastplate, and took no physical damage. Seeing the priest turn to run, Avenir took both of the small throwing knives concealed under his left vambrance, and expertly threw them at the escaping man. A moan escaped the priest’s mouth as the knives stopped the man from continuing, but did not drop him in his tracks.

Quickly moving into intercept his fleeing target, Avenir drew one of his flintlock pistols and his golden handled rapier. The metal of the elegant sword shinned in the nearby Cathedral's light as the point of the sword swung out of its scabbard, slicing the cold winter air that surrounded the two men. The assassin knew the next thing he had to do was to kill.

The priest stopped, stunned at an unexpected pain now edging it's way up his left arm. Two knives had sliced his arm, one almost embedding itself in his limb. Stopping to check himself out of instinct, he heard the quick footsteps of his attacker behind him. Swinging around he drew his small short sword that he always carried. The Assassin stepped into a torch’s light at the brink of the park, his large leather hate hiding his face except a small black goatee. The goatee bore a menacing grin.

Avenir felt the rush of the kill come over him as he came to the priest, almost laughing at the pitiful sword the priest now clutched for dear life. Leveling his pistol to the priest’s head, he could see the fear in his eyes. Just as Avenir was squeezing the trigger to end the life of the man, the priest moved, narrowly avoiding the bullet. Furry built up in the assassin, now at having made two mistakes. Lunging forward with his rapier, Avenir tried to end it with the flash of metal.

The priest barely parried the powerful blow from the assassin’s sword. He was not going to go quietly, or without a fight. He blocked the man’s next attack, but with no time to spare. He knew he wouldn’t last long in this duel, and he knew that when he finally was defeated, his secrets would die with him. That fact scared him more than death. The rapier slashed forward again, the light catching it in such a way as to make it seem like the metal was the embodiment of Lucifer's unholy flame.

The priest parried and blocked the swings that he could, but he quickly became tired and battered.  Hopping on a last ditch attempt to gain the time to escape, the priest unexpectedly thrust his sword at the assassin’s side.  Not anticipating such an attack from the priest, Avenir swung around to miss the sword, losing balance, Avenir tried to steady himself, but it took precious seconds to do so.  The next blow landed on the assassin’s back, knocking him forward.  Twisting his body as he landed on his knees, Avenir fell to his back as he grabbed another pistol from his coat.  Blocking the priest’s final attack with his rapier, Avenir looked up at the priest and shot him in the stomach with his now free flintlock.  The priest stepped back, reaching to his abdomen.

The next attack, a calculated stab at the priest’s legs landed, pierced through to the other side of the man’s leg. The sword sent shooting pain through the priest’s body as if the sword was indeed wrought of fire. The pain blocked out the world. Blood started to soak his robes around his leg and body as his veins strained to move the red elixir of life to his extremities. Dropping the sword to his side, the priest was in more pain then he though was possible.

Knowing he had won, Avenir slowly slid his sword out of the man, relishing in his cries of anguish.  The city was still silent, even though the priest’s cries reverberated through the park.  Avenir stood as he reveled in the fact that he could inflict as much pain as he wanted to. 

Using a metal spike attached to the end of his boot, he kicked the man in the shin until he felt the bone crumble under his power.  Payback for Avenir own faults. The priest fell to the ground, crying as if a child. Avenir knelt down next to the dieing priest’s face. Grabbing a short sword from a scabbard on his back, he placed the razor edge on the man’s temple.

The priest looked at the swords tip and then at the assassin’s face. At his angle, he could see his features clearly. What bothered him most about his face was not the numerous scars, but at the assassin's cold eyes. They held no remorse for what he knew was about to happen.

The assassin breathed calmly, relaxing before the final act of judgment. He saw the priest looking at his face. He stared down at the almost dead man, and locked eyes with him. An unspoken communication was formed, and Avenir sensed it was time to end the suffering.

Kneeling next to the priest, Avenir felt nothing but the greed of the money he would soon be given.  The priest was exhausted, but he kept whimpering like a wounded dog. “Forgive me father,” he stated in a rough, mocking form of Imperial Italian, “for I have sinned.” As the sound drained from his lips, he pressed upon the sword, thrusting it through the priest’s temple, extinguishing his life and burying his secrets forever.


End