Havana, Cuba, June 1715
Apr. 29th, 2018 06:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doesnotkneelThey stood around a large table in a private room inside the main building: Edward, Torres, El Tiburón, DuCasse and Rogers.
El Tiburón held a small box, and Edward could swear the man was glancing his way. Had the bastard noticed Ed while he was clambering around trying to get the maps back? God, he hoped not.
All the secrecy was giving Edward a load of hives, and the whispered phrases and names he didn't know doubly so. What had Duncan's letter said? A 'secret and noble cause'? Right. That'd be a lesson for next time he decided to pretend to be someone else: no noble causes.
But they all had their drinks so a toast was raised, Torres saying, “Convened at last and in such Continental company... England, France, Spain... Citizens of sad and corrupted empires.”
At a wave from Torres, El Tiburón moved across, opened the box he held and placed it to the table. Red-velvet lining and the gleam of metal from inside. Whatever it was, it looked significant and indeed proved to be, as Torres, his smile fading, the natural gleam of his eyes replaced by something altogether more serious, began what was obviously a ceremony of some importance.
“But you are Templars now,” he was saying. “The secret and true legislators of the world. Please hold out your hands.”
Drinks were set down. The atmosphere went solemn. But all Edward could think was, Templars, then. Some secret club of nobs with too much airs, pretending their petty issues were worth anything.
Edward was a pirate. He decided he'd fear less.
Torres reached into the box and placed the first ring on DuCasse’s finger. “Mark and remember our purpose. To guide all wayward souls till they reach a quiet road."
A second ring was placed on Rogers’s finger. “To guide all wayward desire till impassioned hearts are cooled.”
Looking at them, lapping this shite up like it meant anything.
Then Torres was addressing Edward, and he placed on his finger a third ring, saying, “To guide all wayward minds to safe and sober thought.” Ha. Sober.
Edward looked around at all the serious faces surrounding him, and wondered if they'd noticed that while they were preoccupied, he'd nabbed pouches off of their belts where he could reach them.
And then he looked down, at the ring, and barely managed to keep himself from blanching. He knew this ring - this symbol. It'd been on the hand of the man who'd set fire to his parents' farm, the ring on Captain Pritchard's hand, and suddenly it felt like less of a laughing matter.
Torres stood back. “By the father of understanding’s light let our work now begin,” he said. “Decades ago, the council entrusted me with the task of locating in the West Indies a forgotten place our precursors once called The Observatory. See here...”
On the table before him were spread out the documents from the satchel, placed there by El Tiburón. “Look upon these images and commit them to memory,” added Torres. “They tell a very old and important story. For two decades now I have endeavoured to locate this Observatory. It is a place rumoured to contain a tool of incredible utility and power. It houses a kind of armillary sphere, if you like. A device that would grant us the power to locate and monitor every man and woman on Earth, whatever his or her location. “Only imagine what it would mean to have such power. With this device, there would be no secrets among men. No lies. No trickery. Only justice. Pure justice. This is The Observatory’s promise and we must take it for our own.”
“Do we know its whereabouts?” asked Rogers.
“We will soon,” replied Torres, “for in our custody is the one man who does. A man named Roberts. Once called a Sage.”
DuCasse gave a small, scoffing laugh. “It has been forty-five years since anyone has seen an actual Sage. Can you be sure this one is authentic?”
“We are confident he is,” replied Torres.
“The Assassins will come for him,” said Rogers.
As they spoke, and discussed the inevitability of their victory, Edward stared down at the documents. An Observatory? Of some great power?
In that moment, Edward knew two things: that he didn't want these bloody Templars to have it, and that it had to be worth a massive amount of gold.
He had to have the Observatory. It was the only way.
[[ based on and adapted from Assassin's Creed: Black Flag and its novelization. ]]
El Tiburón held a small box, and Edward could swear the man was glancing his way. Had the bastard noticed Ed while he was clambering around trying to get the maps back? God, he hoped not.
All the secrecy was giving Edward a load of hives, and the whispered phrases and names he didn't know doubly so. What had Duncan's letter said? A 'secret and noble cause'? Right. That'd be a lesson for next time he decided to pretend to be someone else: no noble causes.
But they all had their drinks so a toast was raised, Torres saying, “Convened at last and in such Continental company... England, France, Spain... Citizens of sad and corrupted empires.”
At a wave from Torres, El Tiburón moved across, opened the box he held and placed it to the table. Red-velvet lining and the gleam of metal from inside. Whatever it was, it looked significant and indeed proved to be, as Torres, his smile fading, the natural gleam of his eyes replaced by something altogether more serious, began what was obviously a ceremony of some importance.
“But you are Templars now,” he was saying. “The secret and true legislators of the world. Please hold out your hands.”
Drinks were set down. The atmosphere went solemn. But all Edward could think was, Templars, then. Some secret club of nobs with too much airs, pretending their petty issues were worth anything.
Edward was a pirate. He decided he'd fear less.
Torres reached into the box and placed the first ring on DuCasse’s finger. “Mark and remember our purpose. To guide all wayward souls till they reach a quiet road."
A second ring was placed on Rogers’s finger. “To guide all wayward desire till impassioned hearts are cooled.”
Looking at them, lapping this shite up like it meant anything.
Then Torres was addressing Edward, and he placed on his finger a third ring, saying, “To guide all wayward minds to safe and sober thought.” Ha. Sober.
Edward looked around at all the serious faces surrounding him, and wondered if they'd noticed that while they were preoccupied, he'd nabbed pouches off of their belts where he could reach them.
And then he looked down, at the ring, and barely managed to keep himself from blanching. He knew this ring - this symbol. It'd been on the hand of the man who'd set fire to his parents' farm, the ring on Captain Pritchard's hand, and suddenly it felt like less of a laughing matter.
Torres stood back. “By the father of understanding’s light let our work now begin,” he said. “Decades ago, the council entrusted me with the task of locating in the West Indies a forgotten place our precursors once called The Observatory. See here...”
On the table before him were spread out the documents from the satchel, placed there by El Tiburón. “Look upon these images and commit them to memory,” added Torres. “They tell a very old and important story. For two decades now I have endeavoured to locate this Observatory. It is a place rumoured to contain a tool of incredible utility and power. It houses a kind of armillary sphere, if you like. A device that would grant us the power to locate and monitor every man and woman on Earth, whatever his or her location. “Only imagine what it would mean to have such power. With this device, there would be no secrets among men. No lies. No trickery. Only justice. Pure justice. This is The Observatory’s promise and we must take it for our own.”
“Do we know its whereabouts?” asked Rogers.
“We will soon,” replied Torres, “for in our custody is the one man who does. A man named Roberts. Once called a Sage.”
DuCasse gave a small, scoffing laugh. “It has been forty-five years since anyone has seen an actual Sage. Can you be sure this one is authentic?”
“We are confident he is,” replied Torres.
“The Assassins will come for him,” said Rogers.
As they spoke, and discussed the inevitability of their victory, Edward stared down at the documents. An Observatory? Of some great power?
In that moment, Edward knew two things: that he didn't want these bloody Templars to have it, and that it had to be worth a massive amount of gold.
He had to have the Observatory. It was the only way.
[[ based on and adapted from Assassin's Creed: Black Flag and its novelization. ]]
