Divinity of Blades Chapter 3

III

Weeks of travel had passed at a nearly grinding pace with little to nothing to fill the space while the two assassins traveled to Orleans, France. Conversations were small and mostly meaningless, and when there were interesting sights along the way there was no time to stop and admire them. The rest of the journey towards their goal was mindless and dull, the only hope within the two being the prospect of reaching civilization with a chance to eat something normal –And to get a bath.

“Well, here we are,” Leola said with a sigh, “I missed stinky old France.”
Solomon quietly looked around at the small town of Orleans, noting easily that the town itself did have a strange scent to it. He crinkled his nose in an attempt to stop the smell from invading his nostrils, “Do you remember where the hideout is for the Assassins? That should be the first place we visit.”
Taking out a letter from the inner pocket of her robes, Leola looked around tiredly and pretty run down, not at all her usual self, “No, but fortunately Ophelia wrote it down for me.” she spurred her horse down the street and called back, “It says it's after the Pont de L'Europe, so it isn't too far from here.”
Solomon nodded and spurred his horse to follow, “Good. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can take a bath,” he chuckled, now riding beside her, “you’re starting to smell a little.”
“Look who's talking!” she said with a glare, “Unlike you, at least I have the decency to carry some perfume with me to allow me to smell like I died three months ago!”
“I don't think that's a good thing, ‘smelling like you died three months ago’” he chuckles.

After a relatively short horseback ride down the dusty streets of Orleans they came to the bridge and not very far from there on a side street Leola turns to find a side entrance to a pretty run down building where two hooded men were sitting down at the stairs in front of the door. “... Here we are.” She said lightly to Solomon.
Solomon looks to the run down building, halting his horse beside Leola, “I see.” He says as he looks to the impoverished shed of a home, “This building is well… well hidden it seems.”

One of the men that were seated near the stairs of the building looked up to the two assassins, his face splotched with grime and dirt from the streets, making him seem well in tune with nature –or perhaps a little too in tune with nature—as he frowned to them both, “What do you want?” he asked in an arrogant tone.
“Well, a ‘bonjour’ would be very nice, for starters.” Leola said as she dismounted her horse.
Solomon joined her on the ground standing tall and using his height to show his menacing side, “...I agree.” He said, annoyed by the man’s lack of brotherly affection.
The second man had his hood up, the hood being the common beaked hood of the brotherhood of Assassins. The same hood that the other irritated man, who had his hanging off his back. The hooded one growled as he got up, “Don’t fuck with us, kid. We already have enough trouble without having to put up with you. What do you want!?”
Slowly, a light thud filled the silence between the three as Leola kicked the hooded man in the groin without a second thought and not a single spark of emotion on her face.
Solomon gently hid his head in his hand as he groaned, “* ... Leola. That is no way to treat an irritated member of the brotherhood.” Solomon took off his hood and stared menacingly at the man, the stare strong enough to cause him to freeze and think about what he might do next before making a painful fool of himself. “...Master Assassin of the Roman Branch, Solomon Zephyr. And... you are...?”
“... Angry?!” the hooded assassin yelled, “Get the heck out before I slice you both to pieces!” Quickly he lunged at Solomon, intending to hurt him in any way possible.
Without a single flinch or second thought, Solomon punched the charging man in the nose, “...I did not say angry... I said irritated.”
The hooded man quickly fell to the ground, joining his already groaning comrade.
“I am irritated too,” Leola pouted, “Why can't people just be nice?”
“Leola... you should try being nice to begin with too.” Solomon chided, “...People will be more... willing to talk without yelling that way.”
Solomon looked down to the man he punched in the nose, frowning slightly as he spoke to the snivelling man, “...I suggest you apologize before I personally lower your rank.” He crosses his arms as he waits, himself not being in the greatest of moods thanks to the ‘Frenchmen Welcome’.
“Fine,” Leola grumbled, looking down to the two men, “...Uh, sorry guys. We've had kind of a long trip and stuff...”

Suddenly the doors to the run down building open in a hurry and woman with a serious frown on her face appears, “...Why did I suspect that when I heard people getting punched that I would find you outside the door?”
“It seems to just be Leola's way of saying hello.” Solomon nods, looking to Leola.
Leola smiles to her stepmother, Ophelia, the woman who came to halt the one sided battle, “I don't think I have to kick you to say hello, do I?”
“No, Leola...”Ophelia says as she smiles to them both, “Nice to see you again, Solomon. Please, do come in... And forgive our brothers. We haven't had it easy these past months.”
“I'll excuse them this time,” he chuckles, “I suppose. But to have them on edge so much... it is a little worrisome.”
Ophelia sighs, her smile quickly disappearing from her face, “I can't blame them, though... I guess all I can do is apologize. Come on... I'll show you your rooms and then we can talk.”
Leola walks ahead of them both and is already inside, leaving Solomon to take care of her bags, “Man, at least it's warm in here. After all these days sleeping out in the open this is heavenly!”
“That's quite alright... I assume one of these...” he looks to the men on the ground, “Tired looking men would appreciate a break to carry some luggage inside. Yes?” He regards Ophelia for the answer he seeks.
“Sure thing,” Ophelia nods to the men, telling them to take their stuff inside before walking inside with Solomon and Leola.
The inside of the building is large, and just like the outside, it looks like it has seen better times—At least it is warm though. Two other Assassins are on the first floor, sitting at a table next to the chimney, looking as moody and sad as the ones at the door.
“So I take it your journey was uneventful?” Ophelia asks as she stands near Solomon in the open and tired room.
“Yes, Uneventful in a few ways... Leola at times refused to talk to me for reasons unknown, however.”
Solomon examined the room, the chilling feeling of defeat and dread filling the warm and seemingly dank air as he observed the people loafing about in the rooms seemingly void of any positivity.
“Leola refusing to talk?” Ophelia raises her eyebrows in disbelief, “Well then, that's a new one.” Ophelia turns to her step daughter who is looking out one of the few windows in the assassin den, “I guess we do need to do a lot of talking... but first of all, you two seriously need a bath.”
“Especially Solomon~!” Leola sings from her spot at the window.
“Especially the both of you.” Ophelia corrects, pinching her nose shut to mask the smell.
Solomon chuckles, rubbing the back of his head which is still covered by his dirt stained hood, “I appreciate this, Ophelia... Just point us in the right direction. We'll freshen up.”
Ophelia points to the darkest corner of the room where an old staircase is, “Upstairs, the two rooms at the end of the hall are for you. Pick whichever you want.”
“We get to pick rooms?” Leola shouted, “Yay!”
Leola quickly ran off to get first pick at the rooms, leaving Solomon again with her stepmother.
Ophelia chuckles at her stepdaughters excitement, “And don't come back down until you've stopped smelling like you’ve lived in the gutters for the past two years!”
“Thank you.” Solomon says with a nod. He then slowly walked off to the stairs to follow Leola, eager to get cleaned up as well and happy to be back in a sort of civilization.

***

“Hey, look who’s back from the dead.” Leola giggled as she sat near a table with Ophelia.
Solomon slowly walked down the stairs, freshened up after his bath and now wearing clean clothing. His hair was still a little damp from being washed and his small confident smile had returned to his lips as he came over to join the two women at the sitting area.
Nearby, an unoccupied fire burned calmly, the flames licking at the wood that fed it life as small cracks sounded from the blocks of wood. Smoke rose up into the chimney as tiny embers floated upwards in the draft only to fade away before reaching the outdoor air high above them.
“Sit down, Solomon,” Ophelia said with a small nod, “Would you like some tea?”
He sat down in a comfy chair before responding, “Ah, yes please.”
“Alright... let's talk now.” Ophelia commanded as she poured the cup of tea for Solomon, “Since you came here with Leola, I suppose you more or less know what is going on here and what we have to do.”
“Assumedly retrieve a powerful sword from Templar hands.” He stated mater-of-factly.
“Exactly.” Ophelia nodded, “At least I don't have to explain that part.”
Leola took a sip of her tea, smiling lightly as her hands wrapped around the cup and felt the warmth of the liquid, “You could start then with why everyone seems so... defeated here.”
Solomon took a sip of his tea, in his mind agreeing with what Leola had said. Everyone in the hideout –if you could call it such—seemed as if they had seen better days. All of the men and women walked around as if they were waiting for death, or had only missed the boat ride across the river Styx. Sadly no one even appeared to have the devoted brotherly love that all assassins have among their comrades—everyone was half of who they could have been, and their sunken eyes and hung heads were not in the least bit encouraging.
Ophelia set her cup down on the table, looking to the fire for a moment in silence before speaking in a sad and low voice as she brought a hand to her eyes, rubbing them lightly, “They crushed us. A week or more ago. We were trying to infiltrate their fortress... they killed 15 of our men… In less than 2 hours.”
Solomon stopped mid sip, setting his cup down onto the table once more, “That is very… shocking.”
Leola placed a hand over Ophelia's, looking anguished, “That is horrible..! But... how?”
“I am sure it was the sword.” Ophelia sighed, “The man commanding them had it on his hand. Nobody hesitated when they heard his orders. Even my men were hesitating as they heard him...”
“That blade certainly is a force to be reckoned with...” Solomon hummed.
Slowly, Ophelia nodded, looking not only tired but sad and frustrated, “I did not think it would be that bad. But I had never seen a Piece of Eden work before... how could I have known?” she looked up towards Solomon, “We need to get it back. It needs to be destroyed, or at least, hidden away.”
“We will get it back,” Leola said with a smile, “I have a plan, actually.”
“Yes. ... A ‘plan’ is what you have.” Solomon says after taking another sip of tea, his feelings having turned more downward at the knowledge of brave lost lives.
“We do have a plan.” Leola glares, “And apparently we also have very little time too before something like this happens again to make it work.”
“A risky plan.” Solomon nods, “But those usually work out the best. Doing something unexpected and well timed.” He chuckles and sips more of his warm tea.
A slight smile crept onto Ophelia’s lips, although she still looked sad and tired, “That sounds like every single thing Leola ever does.”
“But I do get things done, right?” Leola asked softly, reaching over to squeeze Ophelia's hand once more, “We will get that sword back, Ophelia. We will not let any more of our brothers die.”
Solomon smiled confidently, “The mission will be completed.”
Ophelia stared at the two positive assassins in front of her for a second, then let out a slight chuckle, “You two have changed so much since the last time I saw you that I feel like I'm talking to totally different people...” She nodded to Solomon slowly, “But I fully trust you. Now, if you'd be as kind as to explain to me what the plan is about, I'll do everything in my hands to help.”
“I will let Leola state the plan.” Solomon said, “...its practice for her in order to train her for her higher ranks to come.”
“Like I needed practice.” Leola blushed, “I'm ready to become a Master too!
“...Mhm. This one didn't change that much.” Ophelia sighed.

Leola did her best to express the whole plan in a calm, organized way. She explained her plan of dressing up as Templars and infiltrating using Sylvie's name and how they would offer the dormant Excalibur as a gift to earn their trust. The Explanation went smoothly –or as smooth as it can be when Leola explains things. During the explanation, Ophelia kept silent, only nodding every so often to show that she was paying attention.  Solomon had finished his tea during the time it took Leola to say everything she had in mind and when she sat back in her chair with a proud smirk, Ophelia cleared her throat.
“It's quite a… Leola-like thing to do.” Was all Ophelia could offer.
“Exactly,” Leola chimed in, “Meaning it's bound to succeed.”
Ophelia paused and looked to Solomon, a faint smile on her lips, “Did she come up with this by herself?”
“She did.” Solomon nodded.
Her lips broke into a smile, “I thought so. She sounds a lot like her father... I just have a question. How do you plan on getting out of the fortress with the sword, supposing you can get close enough to it?”
Leola blinked, dumbfounded, “Uh…”
“The floor is yours, Leola.” Solomon said, giving her a smirk.
“Um...” Leola gulped, “I suppose we just... fight our way out?”
Solomon nodded lightly, having expected that response, “And if we do not get the sword before we ‘fight our way out’?”
Leola bit her lip in frustration, “We can't not get the sword.” She frowned and looked up to Solomon, “We can't fail.”
The room fell silent. Cracking and spitting from the nearby fire filled the room as the three kept quiet. The silence had a sort of uneasy feeling to it as the wood in the fire fell from its formation, spitting some ash up into the chimney.
“There is always the... ‘Easy’ solution.” Ophelia offered.
With a hopeful glance, Solomon looked to Ophelia, “And what solution are you referring to?
Ophelia shrugged, looking uncomfortable to even continue her suggestion, “Bombing the place and destroying it completely.”
“Wasn't that how...” Leola frowned.
“…How your father lost his leg?” Ophelia finished, “Yes.”
“I'd rather fight, to be honest.” Solomon offered.
“Definitely,” Leola nodded, “I'd rather not have a plan B.”
Ophelia sighed, “I thought you were going to say something like that. I hope things don't go too badly... I'll send a messenger to Paris to ask for reinforcements. If you need to fight your way out, I might as well try to help you from the outside.”
“The help will be much appreciated, Ophelia.” Solomon said.
“You're welcome...” Ophelia grinned, “I'll do anything to avenge the brothers I lost here, and get that Piece of Eden to a safe place.” She looked to Leola and smiled sadly, “…Even if it means losing a leg.”
Leola smiled back, “I don't plan on letting anyone on our side lose any of their limbs. No need to worry!”
Solomon chuckled, “I suppose that means the Templars better get some splints or... a Tourniquet?” He looked to Ophelia with a raised eyebrow, wanting to know if he got the word right.
“Really Solomon?” Ophelia let out a laugh, “You don't know how to stop the bleeding of a severed limb even though you're a Master?”
“You tie a belt above the lobbed off limb.” Solomon retorted, “That will stop the bleeding immensely. I was merely trying to find more French words.”
Ophelia laughed again, “I was born in Italy, Solomon, and I married a Breton man. You don't need to speak French to me. Which reminds me... my husband and son send their regards to you both. You do remember Lucca, don't you, Solomon? He won’t' stop talking about you now.”
“I do remember him. A fine young boy” Solomon chuckled, happy to have cheered Ophelia up a little.
Ophelia smiled warmly at the compliment, “He hopes to see you again one day. He also says you take good care of his big sister.”
“Like she couldn't take care of herself!” Leola chuckles proudly, “Glad to hear he's alright and that he remembers us.”
“Si,” Solomon nodded, “It’s great that he’s doing well.”
Ophelia looked at the window nearby, nodding slightly before getting up, “Alright then... We can start the mission tomorrow. You guys need to rest and I have to go write a letter.” She smiled to both of them, “I am really glad that you came. You have no idea of how thankful I am.”
“Have a nice evening Ophelia,” Solomon called to her as she left the room and climbed the stairs.

The two assassins were now alone near the fire, their tea all finished and with nothing more to be discussed about the plan. Solomon pushed his empty tea cup farther into the center of the table and looked to Leola, “Is there anything you'd like to do before you head to bed, Leola..? Perhaps talk about something on your mind?”
Leola set her empty tea cup on the table in front of her, her brow furrowed at Solomon’s sudden question, “Um… n-no. Not really.” She stuttered, “No, of course not. W-why are you interrogating me all of a sudden?”
She paused and looked to him, trying to look tough and not worth the time, but it only reflected off of her as defensive with a slight edge of fear, “Okay, sorry,” She sighed, “Maybe I'm slightly nervous about this.”
“Mhm... What is there on your mind then? Maybe I can help calm your nerves.”
Leola played a little with her cup, humming as she thought. A small smirk had come and gone on her lips, but it was nearly unnoticeable. “Depends. Do you know a way to get me to stop thinking about how my dad lost his leg on a mission that went wrong, and that I could end up messing up and losing my leg too?”
“Yes.” Solomon nodded, “Just think of something else. Something that is completely different. ... Something like… Andros being dressed as a Harlequin by his young daughter. Make up and all.”
Silence filled the room as Leola milled the image over in her mind. Andros in a floppy hat with bells attached, colourful stripes of clothing and a white face with pink cheeks. He would obviously not be smiling, which would only make it funnier as Alex, Andros’ little angel, finished it all off with the curled toe shoes on her papa’s feet.
Leola blinks and then bursts into laughter, unable to stop herself from laughing despite her nerves and the sad atmosphere as she pictures Andros as described by Solomon, “That is... actually adorable,” she giggled, “and it helped a lot... thank you, Solomon.”
“Nessun problema.”
Leola looked down at her empty tea cup, her smile still present on her lips, “It's nice to know you have a sense of humour... and that I still have mine.”
“I never lost any sense of humor.” Solomon chuckled.
“I never said you lost it. I have always doubted you even had one,” She giggled, “Oh well, I guess I... we all like you better that way.”
Leola stood from her seat, “I think I'm going to make good use of that bed in my room and take a nap... I missed sleeping on soft things.” She smiled once more to him before making her way to the stairs, “See you later~!”
“You do just that. I believe I'll be heading to sleep soon too.”
“Rest well, Solomon. That small joke about Andros must've left you exhausted, since you almost never make any.”