CHAPTER two: Assassin Creed—Amelia Whittaker

Eighteen moons later.

One thing that was ingrained in her memory as one of the trainees of the Assassin creed revolution is the aptitude to pretend and remain calm, keeping the facial features dispassionate.

She could have the most lethal weapon attached to her and still look calm and collected as a cucumber.

This was achieved by one of her most intensive training, when she was locked in a dark tomb filled to the brim with scorpions. She had to keep an expressionless face and not make the slightest peep of noise. After repeating the training for the fifth time, she finally became the toughest and unbreakable assassin in the faction.

Looking back on her days of training, Amelia Whittaker knew that it was worth it.

But she wondered when she would be allowed to kill the King of the Valerians because she was ready. She could feel it in her bones and deep down in her heart. Her soul begged for it…her soul craved to feel his blood on the edge of her sword.

This was what she had trained for, lived for. Every nightmare she had, had prepared her for this one mission but the master kept on his word.

‘You are not ready yet.’

Sighing, she unsheathed her sword and resumed her duel pose, legs splayed apart as she planted her foot firmly on the ground, raising her sword. It was just one of those days when they had no real training so the only thing they did was to challenge each other to a duel.

“Viper, you think you are so tough, don’t you?’ Her duel partner called her by her field name that master Graeme had named her. He had once told her that ‘Amelia’ was too girly a name for a tough as nails assassin like her.

“I know I am tough, wimp!” Her voice was dripping with venomous sarcasm as she made the first move but he was quick to give a counterattack.

Swinging their swords furiously in the most hateful manner, they dueled for what seemed like hours, sweat soaking through their black leather suit.

“YOU… clang …KEEP… clang… FAILING… clang… THE… clang…creed!” Her duel partner, whirlwind spat hatefully at her as he broke each word with a hit on her sword, making her lose the slightest focus and he took full advantage of that. Slamming his sword hard against hers, it fell from her hands and he stepped forward, ramming his hard broad shoulders right into her unguarded chest. Amelia staggered a few steps back but soon regained her footing.

Marching towards the momentarily stunned Amelia, he wrapped his arms around her and smashed his body against hers, knocking both of them to the ground. His heavy body squashed her against the ground and knocked the air out of her lungs. He lifted himself up quickly and crouched over her as he raised the sharp sword high in the air and brought it down with as much force as he could muster.

“I don’t know what master Graeme sees in you. I am a better warrior than you are. You damned loser kid, barely two decades old.” He snarled as he pulled out the sword that was buried to the hilt in the soft sand right beside her right cheek.

It was barely a hair’s width from her face and she could smell the metallic tang of blood. She glared at the man as he walked away from her. He had caught her unawares and this was his first time. His words had stung her more than the cut on her cheek from the blade of his sharp sword and before she could gather herself, her back met with the floor.

Whirlwind hated her since she was adopted into the creed. It was obvious that he felt threatened because their master doted on her than the rest of them. Although the memory of the master saving her life was a bit fuzzy, she knew she was indebted to him.

Suddenly, tears began to push against her lids but she forcefully blinked them back; Whirlwind was right about one thing. She kept failing the creed and her master.

Maybe it was because he had raised her for almost two decades but she had always looked up to Master Graeme as a father figure.

He had personally sharpened her assassination skills to be one of his best assassins and yet, she had been nothing more than a disappointment.

Regaining ounces of her strength, she lifted herself up from the ground, dusting off the sand from her leather pants.

“Master requested to see you.” a voice barked and she gasped silently as she was startled.

“Tell him I would be with him as soon as I am done.” she replied in a cool voice, betraying no emotion.

“He said right now and it is important.”

Huffing silently, she picked up her sword, slowly sheathed it and clasped it across her back.

She whizzed past the errand boy with a defiant toss of her silky black hair as she stalked back to the tower.

At the foot of the staircase leading to the creed’s tower, Amelia paused and turned to look at the enormous field behind her. it was the greenest scenery she had ever laid eyes on. She turned back and resumed her trek to the manor, passing through a long hallway.

Tall oak pillars with arched girders supported the lofty roof, for the tower had been created after the Valerian fashion. The twin manor house at either side of the master’s tower houses the male and female assassins in bunk beds respectively. It was originally intended to serve as a lookout posts and sleeping quarters for a small battalion of men but it all changed when the master started recruiting other young assassins of both sex. The remainder of the structure was cut off and planked by sturdy oak beams and gray stones and then roofed with slate. Twin hearths blazed at either end of the hallway, fed with three huge logs.

Few moments passed before Amelia made her way below, torches placed in sconces lined the walls leading down the stairwell channeled in the draft. Their glowing, writhing light altered the shapes and depths and made descending the steep stone steps—slippery with wetness, a dangerous task.

Amelia kept a sharp eye out and lifted one of the torches out of the scones to lighten up the steps in front of her—gingerly climbing each steps with utmost care. Her attention was fully on the stairs not on the eerie quiet in the hall below until she climbed over the last one.

Her brows scrunching in a deep frown, she hurried down the short passageway leading into the master’s library.

After a soft knock on the door, a voice instructed her to come in and she did, silently locking the door behind her.

Walking along the rows and shelves of books, her fingertips feathered the spines of the books till she got to where the master sat in front of a mahogany bench.

“You wanted to see me, Master Graeme.” Amelia asked, bobbing her head in a dutiful courtesy.

“Aye, viper, I did.” The master acknowledged gruffly, stretching cramping muscles as he pushed to his feet.

His usually stoic expression dissolved to a warm smile as he looked up at the little scared girl that had bloomed into this stunning young woman.

“It is time, my wee lassie.” He grinned, subconsciously bringing to light his Scottish ascent.

“Time for what…?” Amelia asked confusedly.

“You have trained long and hard for this… you are ready.” He continued and she still didn’t comprehend him.

“Master…what are you…?”

“It is time to do what you were born to do… time to avenge your parent’s death… It is time to kill Alpha King Conroy, the king of the Valerian hybrid werewolves.”

Cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkling brighter than it had ever did, she was overwhelmed with excitement and she took a seat set upon the stool set before the bench, “You…you really mean that…?”

He raised a brow at her, his expression saying, ‘Would I ever say things I do not mean?’

He knew how much this meant to her, so there was no way he was playing on her emotions. Master Graeme knew how much she hated the Alpha king or any werewolves for that matter.

Suddenly, she was wrecked with nerves, “But… the last times… remember…”

“Do not remind me about your failures viper. We don’t reminisce about mistakes. We learn from them.” He cut her clean and she nodded slowly.

“I won’t let you down.” Her voice rang out loud and clear in the silent room.

“I know you won’t. Now go get ready Amelia.”

This was the first time he had ever referred to her as anything other than viper and a genuine smile played on her lips for the first time.

She took hold of the amulet around her neck and breathed out.

As she walked out of the library, she took a longing look at master Graeme and squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t screw this up.