(Written by Ringmaster.)
Part One: The More Things Change
My life had always been one of hardship and pain. My father and brothers were killed and betrayed by those I thought friends. I had seen lovers and close friends die, by my association alone. I had run through life, inflicting death as I directed and have aged, my years finally catching with me. And yet, my life can be counted as a single grain of sand on a beach, or more fittingly a single star in the sky. So what worth, is any one man? Of what worth is his work, or his deeds?
My name is Ezio Auditore da Firenze.
And I, am an assassin.
Even after the centuries, the old fortress yet stood. Crumbling, a shadow of its old glory and defying the elements and humanity alike. From the Templar siege of the Crusades during his ancestors era, to the later sacking the Mongols would impart.
To when he had himself came, seeking answers that he believed Altair and his library could impart to him.
The future had changed, when Ezio had found himself engulfed into the Murder Games. Case in point, his current situation. Around this time, his old self should be happily retired in Italy as he planned and Ezio frankly, envied him. Strange thing, to envy yourself.
But as Altair had learned, he who increases in knowledge, increases in sorrow. Learning of a wider world beyond his own, of the enemies that existed to consume and destroy... Could he have gone any other way? Ignoring what he knew?
The answer was no.
So long as there was breath left in him, Ezio would continue to fight the good fight. Hence why they were here, in these old ruins. When debating temporary bases in which to plan, this seemed most appropriate.
If only the company was more fair of face.
Ezio lashed out with an uppercut beneath his opponents guard and was rewarded with the impact of bone. He winced outwardly, watching him crumble to the ground and waited.
And waited.
An eagle cried out overhead, the wind blew quietly, giving a ghastly serenity to it all. Just as Ezio thought about finding a bucket of water, a groan from ground level told him not to bother.
"Did someone get the plate of that truck?"
Desmond Miles.
For lack of a better word, his grandson.
In more complicated terms, his descendant. At this point, he simply went with the flow as the old eagle extended a hand to grip the young chick by the wrist and hoist him up to his feet.
"You hesitated. In battle, that was the worst and final mistake you could have done. If you commit to a fight, see to.it through. Second thoughts once a course of action has been chosen are an enemy you can ill afford."
Still groggy, Desmond rubbed his jaw and threw a mild glare, lacking in fire for all the logic his grandfather imparted.
"You have a nice right hook for an old man."
Ezio wriggled his eyebrows lasciviously.
"You'd be surprised at what else still works, grandson. And I've a number of inappropriate stories to back that up-."
Desmond gagged at the idea, retorting only half-jokingly.
"Keep it in your pants old man."
"Well, that's a first."
I watched my grandson turn, my smile fading to concern as he limps his way inside. I know he wishes to do more than this training. I know also he held something of a torch for the young madonna.
Ah, young love. Yet there is nothing more either of us can do yet. We are but two, with an artifact we do not understand and a world, not ready for the knowledge we bear. The future, the past-everything is muddled, like the muddy waters stirred by the actions of a fish as it swims. For the first time, I had come upon a situation my knowledge and my creed alike failed to assist me.
And perhaps that terrified me the most.
Part One: The More Things Change
My life had always been one of hardship and pain. My father and brothers were killed and betrayed by those I thought friends. I had seen lovers and close friends die, by my association alone. I had run through life, inflicting death as I directed and have aged, my years finally catching with me. And yet, my life can be counted as a single grain of sand on a beach, or more fittingly a single star in the sky. So what worth, is any one man? Of what worth is his work, or his deeds?
My name is Ezio Auditore da Firenze.
And I, am an assassin.
Even after the centuries, the old fortress yet stood. Crumbling, a shadow of its old glory and defying the elements and humanity alike. From the Templar siege of the Crusades during his ancestors era, to the later sacking the Mongols would impart.
To when he had himself came, seeking answers that he believed Altair and his library could impart to him.
The future had changed, when Ezio had found himself engulfed into the Murder Games. Case in point, his current situation. Around this time, his old self should be happily retired in Italy as he planned and Ezio frankly, envied him. Strange thing, to envy yourself.
But as Altair had learned, he who increases in knowledge, increases in sorrow. Learning of a wider world beyond his own, of the enemies that existed to consume and destroy... Could he have gone any other way? Ignoring what he knew?
The answer was no.
So long as there was breath left in him, Ezio would continue to fight the good fight. Hence why they were here, in these old ruins. When debating temporary bases in which to plan, this seemed most appropriate.
If only the company was more fair of face.
Ezio lashed out with an uppercut beneath his opponents guard and was rewarded with the impact of bone. He winced outwardly, watching him crumble to the ground and waited.
And waited.
An eagle cried out overhead, the wind blew quietly, giving a ghastly serenity to it all. Just as Ezio thought about finding a bucket of water, a groan from ground level told him not to bother.
"Did someone get the plate of that truck?"
Desmond Miles.
For lack of a better word, his grandson.
In more complicated terms, his descendant. At this point, he simply went with the flow as the old eagle extended a hand to grip the young chick by the wrist and hoist him up to his feet.
"You hesitated. In battle, that was the worst and final mistake you could have done. If you commit to a fight, see to.it through. Second thoughts once a course of action has been chosen are an enemy you can ill afford."
Still groggy, Desmond rubbed his jaw and threw a mild glare, lacking in fire for all the logic his grandfather imparted.
"You have a nice right hook for an old man."
Ezio wriggled his eyebrows lasciviously.
"You'd be surprised at what else still works, grandson. And I've a number of inappropriate stories to back that up-."
Desmond gagged at the idea, retorting only half-jokingly.
"Keep it in your pants old man."
"Well, that's a first."
I watched my grandson turn, my smile fading to concern as he limps his way inside. I know he wishes to do more than this training. I know also he held something of a torch for the young madonna.
Ah, young love. Yet there is nothing more either of us can do yet. We are but two, with an artifact we do not understand and a world, not ready for the knowledge we bear. The future, the past-everything is muddled, like the muddy waters stirred by the actions of a fish as it swims. For the first time, I had come upon a situation my knowledge and my creed alike failed to assist me.
And perhaps that terrified me the most.
