Assassins Creed: Empire
Chapter 2: The Way of the Sword
As I have mentioned, I do not fear death. What I fear is dying while having done nothing to help my fellow man. Like a great beast, the English have expanded their lands with their ambitions. Greed, and ambition flow in the Beast's veins rather than blood. The only blood is from those who fell in battle, or the innocent who perished by their atrocities.
Still, the English will turn a blind eye to their crimes against their fellow human beings. The English do not see my kind as humans like them, but simply as an obstacle blocking their perceived progress. If you kill an Englishman, pity them as they are just men following orders as a soldier must do. Kill a Templar officer, you will find a heart made of stone
"You have your orders, Amina," whispered a warrior
"The Mahdi has placed a fatwa on him," he added as orders.
I looked at the paper, and I made a silent nod to the fellow Arab. I then threw the paper into the campfire. Not out of defiance, but should the English find the camp, they will not know of the fatwa being placed on one of their comrade's heads. From hushed voices among fellow Assassins, the fatwa is placed on one 'Hicks Pasha'. I will see to the task.
This man is a known Templar. On the morning of battle, I made my prayers and asked Allah to bless my weapons. In full armor and with my face and head covered with only my eyes visible, I rode out with the army. In North Kurdufan at woods near the city of El-Obeid, we had spotted the English Army. With 40,000 strong led by the Mahdi, we attacked.
Two strips of cloth off my turban flew behind me in the wind like the dozens of war flags of my fellow warriors. The cries of men and horses as they attacked cried out in defiance of the enemy. I unsheathed my sword as I charged in the mass of warriors, and war banners. Puffs of smoke from the guns filled the air as did the sounds of the dying and dead.
I cut down every men that attacked me under the heat of the desert sun, a bayonet from a soldier pierced the side of my horse. I retaliated by slitting his throat with my sword before I fell to the sands. I got back on my feet, and slashed my sword into the flesh of the enemy while parrying their rifles and bayonets. My ears are deaf to their cries of pain
Men were shot. Men were ran through by sword, and bayonet. Their blood stains the sand. Though outmatched, they still fight on and I fight alongside them. For it is the man wielding a weapon, and not the weapon itself that makes the warrior. In a world where the gun reigns the battlefield, it is by the kaskara, and the dagger that I make my stand.
The cannon and rifle fire sounded like thunder. The sounds of orders given by officers to their soldiers are of equal fury. Even in the fire of battle, it is not very difficult to find the commanding officer. I was surrounded by the English. I did not relent. neither did my fellow warriors under the war banners. I parried a rifle, making one soldier kill his comrade.
My sword rang out as I attacked another, and have my sword parried. I spun around the rifle, and slit the soldier's neck with my arm dagger. Another looked to attack me from behind, and I threw my dagger to hit him between the eyes. I stepped over the body, pulling out my dagger. I stabbed another through the chest, and sheathing back my dagger
I struck down another with a turn, and a slash across the chest. It was chaos on the sands. Side by side, warriors fell by blade and by bullet as did the English soldiers. Whether it was his Templar intuition or he saw my hidden blade, 'Hicks Pasha' spotted me amid battle's fury and attacked with his sword on horseback. I felled his horse with my kaskara.
The look in his brown eyes told me that he will not give up unless someone kills him. He maybe my enemy, but that is admirable, "You are, but an ant, 'Assassin', under the foot of an elephant that is our empire, your death means nothing," he said, and attacked with a ready sword. I blocked each thrust and slash that came at me, then I saw an opening
I was putting him now on the defensive amid the windblown sand and dust. The ring of our swords mixed with the battle raging all around. The numbers of the English army are dwindling. Still, he makes a stand. I parried his sword aside, and thrusted my hidden blade into his belly, "My death will bring a vengeance, a reckoning that will crush the revolt"
"I will not outlive the war, neither will you," I replied calmly
He fell to his knees, and looked up at me. With a clean slash, I freed his head from his shoulders. After the battle, I kneeled before the Mahdi at his tent and presented the head of 'Hicks Pasha', "He was the last to fall in battle," I said to the Mahdi whom accepted the trophy with the victory. Sadly, the Mahdi will not live to see his land free of the English.
It was not a Templar's blade, but Typhus that took his soul to Allah. Though he has passed on, the war rages to see our land free of the English. I am one blade. One blade in an army of thousands. From one leader came another to lead us against the English, Abdullah Ibn-Mohammed Al-Khalifa, 'Khalifat al-Mahdi'. Nothing is true, everything is permitted