For the Trial

[madimpossibledreamer]

Desmond isn’t completely right here, but I’ll leave up to the imagination what he got right. Also, most of this is being written in the aftermath of not one but four migraines (mostly because I thought I was feeling better and probably pushed myself a little too hard in the aftermath of the first). If I have to suffer I’d like to petition that I get Eagle Vision out of it. (At least I figured out how to change the display colors on libreoffice writer so it’s not actively hurting my eyes just looking at it—and something about a new color combination helps me when I’m looking for stuff in previous drafts to fix, so that’s also nice.) Also note: this is not an Ao3 curse thing—I’ve had migraines for 20+ years; they’d be happening even if I wasn’t posting. Life just happens. (I just felt it was important to mention this because I’ve seen a lot of people getting worried about curses and want to reassure that life just happens, it’s just that it goes unnoticed if it’s not recorded.)
The nine leaders thing is from the founding myth; supposedly there were only 9 founding Templars (and potentially, according to legend, only ever 9). Which is when I went—that seems familiar...oh yeah, also the ‘nine names’ thing from AC1. We don’t get a lot of the idea of the structure, only that there’s the Old Guard and the New Guard, and not much of the New Guard. Dame Julia might be intended to be Old Guard, and she does like tradition, but the second you get her into the field she enjoys creativity and thinking outside of the box, so I’m thinking she’s more Old Guard that’s sympathetic to New Guard. Given that they’re traditionalists, though, I figured it’d be more like a medieval court (and technically a Grand Master but it’s gotten a whole lot more egalitarian since the old days, to the point I’m not actually clarifying which of them is the Grand Master—it’s Dame Julia in my heart though).
I had to share a pun: when I was looking up videos to get a feel for Dame Julia for writing this, Melchinafan wrote “newbee” and I think that’s neat.
Helwing started out partially based on Father Anderson and shifted a bit more while I was writing him toward Ludlum villain.

Main Points: Assassin's Creed/The Secret World
Summary: Helwing makes his move.
Word Count: 3206
Rating: Teen

        Guards three and four have even less sense of self-preservation than the first two. That’s Desmond’s assessment at first, anyway. They wait until the first shift and Hilmarsson leave and then start taunting him about Shaun, revealing that he’s being held not too far away and even practically giving him directions. He makes a note of it, but when he doesn’t immediately go and try to rescue him that seems to make them mad. Which is the interesting part. They’re not reacting like they’ve been told he’s completely incapable of anything. It seems like they’re actually trying to provoke him—and yeah, they’re still a little too overconfident that they’d actually survive that, but still.
        It had been so much easier when Abstergo had nabbed him the first time. Bill had, of course, assumed that he hadn’t actually tried to fight back, and he was wrong there, but Desmond was also rusty, used to at most being backup to the bouncers. It’s really hard not to hold back now, but at least he also has memories and instincts of waiting for the right moment. It takes just one alarm to go off and they’re killing or at least trying to kill, say, Shaun and Rebecca. And even if he’s successful, if he gets this wrong the surviving Templars blame the Dragon and the Big Three are starting a war that just might end the world. He’s obviously not going to let them kill him, either, because that would do the exact same thing. He’d gone through all the trouble to save the world already, so he’d like to avoid that if possible.
        They get in one hit, but they’re comparatively kind of slow. It’s a speed that would probably work fine on, say, most of the zombies, maybe Draug, but they’d be Revenant chow by now. He’ll guess they’re fans of the really big club-like swords or sledgehammers, which is an interesting point he can go back to later. The point is, Desmond sees it coming and rolls with it, as much as he can tied up in the chair. He tastes blood—feels like his lip split, damn—before Hilmarsson returns like he’s been watching and waiting for this.
        “He’s being moved,” the probably-an-Assassin tells the others, who look annoyed and suspicious at having been interrupted.
        “Helwing didn’t say anything about that,” the third guard states. Giving him a name accidentally, nice.
        “He’s not the one that called the Court. Dame Julia did, and she’s none too pleased, so I wouldn’t waste much time.” It’s an explanation that works, even as the others grumble, but that’s actually a pretty clever choice of words from Hilmarsson, too. Because that tells Desmond a lot, actually. This Helwing guy had been acting pretty much alone. He’d been trying to get this all done and out of the way without the rest of this Court. He hadn’t pulled it off, though. Somehow the others found out, and weren’t happy about him doing stuff behind their backs even if some of them might agree with him. Which might make Helwing a pretty good suspect for the whole ‘hiring a hitman’ thing, if he did that kind of thing a lot. Maybe he’d gotten frustrated because he’d failed so badly and was just escalating because he didn’t know what else to do.
        But that doesn’t exactly feel right, either. The hitman had been so unprepared it’s like he’d been kept out of the loop and no one had bothered to actually fill him in about the dangers or anything. If Helwing’s behind both, he’s still doing the same thing, and he had to have figured out that it wasn’t as easy as he’d thought to just take out Desmond, if he wasn’t completely stupid. Hell, he had to have seen the recording Rebecca probably made where he’d admitted to being an Assassin, right? Or at least Rebecca or Shaun had put that in their report.
        But the thing is, if he isn’t, maybe that’s part of his plan. Maybe he’d actually been trying to get Desmond to just break out, killing any guards he’d considered nothing more than sacrificial pawns. This second group might have been sent to try to provoke Desmond into striking first. Trying to manufacture a great excuse for war, maybe. Which would mean that Desmond, failing to be the bloodthirsty killer Helwing had probably expected, sent in a different group to actually try to provoke a response. Hell, they’d been sent weaponless. Guard one didn’t bother to keep anything at hand. At least Guard two felt like he had magic backing him up. If that’s the case, then that also probably explains why Hilmarsson hadn’t acted to break him out already—they’re trying to catch Helwing in the act and bring this to the attention of the rest of the Templars who could maybe rein him in, not just trying to get Desmond through this unscathed.
        Of course, this could be the actual escape attempt, but Hilmarsson doesn’t actually do anything to indicate that it is, like trying to give him any signals. The path isn’t obvious, but with Eagle Vision Desmond can tell he’s being taken up, even if it’s gradual enough it has to be a ramp. Two figures in white are standing guard outside the doors, and given the outline Desmond can tell they’re police, which then tells him exactly where he is. He’s near the clothing store, actually, just down the street from Templar Hall. The gold door he’d seen earlier, the one where he’d wondered what was on the other side and couldn’t even tweak Calculations stealth enough to actually break in. He’s learning now, but has to guess it’s some sort of ‘be careful what you wish for’ situation because this is absolutely not how he would’ve liked to find out.
        It’s probably what they’d consider their court of judgment. It looks vaguely medieval, like they haven’t bothered to do much more than the upkeep of this place over centuries. It’s actually vaguely weird being able to say that, like being in Monteriggioni again. Though there’s not one throne for a king. There are nine, though two of them are empty. Which indicates that yeah, maybe they’d been caught by surprise and had to pull this together last minute. Sonnac looks apologetic from where he’s sitting—not in the thrones, which is interesting. One of the slightly less fancy chairs a step down.
        He’s getting dragged to a spot in the front row of the chairs in front. Leave it to the Templars to keep using a system where they can actually look down at you and try to make you feel all inferior. The guards then walk over to take position by the door they came in from. Guards one and two are already standing by the other door. Everyone else is there, with only Chelsea not in pajamas. Shaun’s trying to look as dignified and indignant as is allowed, but it’s hard for him to pull it off. The only thing that’s actually helping him here is that his grumpy exhaustion is sharpening his glare. His glasses aren’t even straight, and he definitely hasn’t done anything with his hair like usual. Desmond’s first instinct is to ruffle Shaun’s hair, but now isn’t the time and Shaun wouldn’t appreciate it in a place this public, anyway. His arms are full of Rukh. It looks like he’s the only thing standing between Rukh and enacted revenge, which is understandable, but also a really terrible idea for the time being until they have a better idea of what’s going on here. Rebecca manages to look completely unbothered and like she isn’t actually wearing pajamas, which in Desmond’s experience means that she’s planning something. She just smiles reassuringly when Desmond squints at her, though. Chelsea actually looks devastated—being a Templar kind of is her life dream, so even getting a bad mark on her record must hurt—but a hint of defiance actually lurks around her eyes, too, which is probably on him.
        “I dislike being kept in the dark, and dragged to court without so much as a ‘by your leave’,” an elderly woman states regally, meaningfully leaning her sword up against her throne. For all her age and white hair, she still looks like she could actually use that without too much difficulty. That must be Dame Julia. She might be complaining about the lack of warning, but she still had time to get into full Templar regalia, complete with a belt with a little Templar cross on it.
        “If only you’d gone through the proper channels,” another man frets. Like he’d be perfectly happy to sign off on an execution as long as he didn’t have to be too involved and all the proper paperwork is filed. Unlike Dame Julia, this one isn’t a fighter. At most he uses guns, but given his temperament he’s probably more the shouting orders and then standing back type.
        “We didn’t have time—” a man begins, only to get interrupted. Given that he’s gone for the whole Templar uniform, too, Desmond’s guessing this is Helwing.
        “And what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait another, say, twelve hours for the others to join us? This man you claim is a great danger sent to infiltrate and kill us all in one attack?” To this man’s credit, he doesn’t look scared, just curious. Then again, from the way he moves when he gestures at Desmond and the fact that he’s gone for practical clothes he can move in and some of the fist weapons Shaun had tried to get Desmond to use rather than a purely ceremonial uniform like Helwing, he might be looking forward to an actual challenge.
        “Yes, which is what makes this action, to gather us all here, particularly dangerous!” Helwing sounds utterly irritated to be here, even if he’s trying to hide it. He’s doing decently well pretending to be more worried than annoyed, and if Desmond didn’t know that he wasn’t a guy to be trusted he might have been fooled.
        Desmond tries his best to look completely innocent. He doesn’t know if he pulls it off, but he’s (probably inappropriately) amused by the startled fury in the man’s eyes when he doesn’t play along, even if the man tries to reel back from the pure hatred to try to prove his point that he’s acting completely rationally under these circumstances.
        “If you were so worried about our safety, you would do well to retrain your subordinates on the proper tying of knots, wouldn’t you?” Dame Julia is sharp. A black cat jumps up onto the throne arm beside her—probably her familiar. Helwing tries to defend herself, but she raises her voice to speak over him. “I’m aware the rope is enchanted. That’s not the point. It’s rather careless, isn’t it, relying so heavily on one thing when you could very easily just make quite sure you have a plan when, not if, things go wrong? It’s all well and good that you’ve chosen them by pedigree, but you would do well to concentrate on competence and discipline.”
        Shaun does perk up a bit at Dame Julia’s speech. It might be because she’s not arguing in favor of execution, but Desmond privately suspects she might be a bit of a role model for Shaun and he’s taking notes on withering sarcasm.
        “You’re saying Desmond Miles could leave at any moment,” the younger woman on the Court points out. She doesn’t actually sound all that worried. In fact there’s not a lot of emotion to her voice at all.
        “You might as well stop pretending, young man,” Dame Julia insists. When Desmond hesitates, she adds dryly, “Now. I’m not in the habit of waiting.”
        It’s actually easier than he’d thought when he was first analyzing the bonds, but then, they’d had to re-tie them to take him from the chair, and Guard three and four had been annoyed and in a rush with Hilmarsson supervising. Everyone tenses, and the guards have the slow look of panicked realization on their faces, but when he doesn’t do anything else they relax a little. Well, guards one through four might be more frozen in fear than relaxed. Hilmarsson might have winked from where he’s just lounging against the walls. Rukh seems a little disappointed, but for whatever reason he also nods at Desmond like he’s approving?
        The man who speaks up looks old enough to have worked with Dame Julia, back in the day. “In any case, there are rules. We’re not the Illuminati; we don’t discard them the moment they inconvenience us.”
        The younger woman nods, having checked her phone. “I do think we should discuss this further before doing anything rash. The Dragon will not take this lightly, and while we are rebuilding our strength we are not prepared for another war.”
        The guy who speaks up next—weirdly enough, he’s in a suit, and if Desmond was told he was looking at an Illuminati spy, he’d believe it—keeps frowning more and more the more arguments he hears against Helwing, so it’s not surprising when he tries to argue in Helwing’s favor. “I hear the Illuminati has begun to rely on Orochi technology, and the Dragon have begun to withdraw. Are these the actions of an organization in a position of strength?”
        The younger woman shakes her head. It’s interesting watching the two of them argue, with neither of them raising their voices. “The Illuminati I’ll grant you, but the Dragon are never straightforward. Signs of weakness are likely just feints.”
        He does gesture, though. “Of course it’s just a bluff! And an effective one, since you’re all falling for it—”
        “Like the ability for Mr. Miles to escape his bonds at any time? That’s also the bluff of a weak Dragon?” Helwing and his apparent sidekick don’t seem to be ready for that logic. Desmond shrugs with everyone’s eyes on him. It’s more to ease the ache in his shoulders, but it’s not like they need to know that.
        “In any case, he’s entitled to a defense. As are the other accused.” The traditionalist isn’t exactly on Desmond’s side, according to Eagle Vision, but he does want this done by the book. Interestingly, most of them are actually white, with the exceptions of Helwing and the suit guy in red and Dame Julia in blue. That’s still better odds than Desmond had expected, going in.
        Sonnac nods. He’s probably been preparing for this the second he heard what was going on. He does seem like the kind of man to actually want to be ready for this. Which makes him a lot more competent than Helwing’s guards. “I was told that we were endeavoring to increase our soft power with the other factions, especially since London has become the de facto capital of the Secret World. Commerce and influence, unfortunately, go hand in hand, and capital is required to mount any sort of offensive. As such, I was acting within my purview to investigate an attack that threatens that status.”
        “An attack that he fabricated!” Helwing interrupts.
        Dame Julia’s hand coming down on the side of the throne is loud enough to get him to quiet down, simmering with quiet anger. “You may continue, Sonnac.”
        “Thank you, though there isn’t much more to say. If it was Dragon-perpetrated—which is possible; my agents tell me Mr. Miles is not particularly in their good graces—then the act being perpetrated on Templar soil is one designed to frame us for the act, thus weakening our position and potentially bringing us to the attention of the Council. If we had proof of that, the Council would be very interested.” Which is...an interesting way to put it, because if Desmond’s right, that’s Helwing’s plan. Does Sonnac know? “And, of course, I take responsibility for my own. They were merely acting under orders I gave them. If there is a fault here, it is with me.” Shaun, Rebecca, and Chelsea look ready to protest, but Sonnac silences them with a look. That’s useful. Desmond should take notes.
        “A likely story,” Helwing’s sympathizer sneers, “...when Hastings there got overly attached. This isn’t just business. He was thinking of betraying us to the Dragon.”
        “You’ve already had your turn to present proof,” the traditionalist points out. “It’s Miles’ turn.”
        Well, at least Miles is better than Mr. Miles. Desmond breathes in. “If I’d wanted to stay and kill everybody, I would’ve done that. Trying to influence everybody only to kill them would be stupid and a waste of time. You’ve all forgotten really quickly about the whole armageddon thing I just stopped, and I didn’t see any of you lifting a finger to help. Frankly I don’t give a crap about all this interagency rivalry and who’ll end up ruling the world, because the world has to stay intact first.” Okay, yeah, he does care if free will still gets to be a thing, but he’s not really that convinced that any of the Big Three would actually care about that, so there isn’t a lot of difference there. “I am walking out. How,” he pauses, actually trying to have his tattoo glow, and overdoes it maybe a little, given that it lights up the entire room like a beacon, “...is up to you.”
        “Now this one shows some promise,” Dame Julia states brightly. She’s not visibly smiling, but he can hear it in her voice. She is actually impressed. “Frankly, if my experience during the Great War was any indication, this reeks of an Illuminati plot. They successfully played us against the Dragon once, with poor old George. Do we really want to fall for that again?”
        “Is that not a threat?” Helwing’s voice, surprisingly, doesn’t break. If anything, he sounds stronger, more assured. Maybe because he thinks Desmond’s finally falling into line?
        The doors burst open, and Javier bursts through, panting.
        “Court is in session, young man. Have you no sense of decorum?” Dame Julia is significantly less impressed by that.
        “I am here,” Javier tries to catch his breath and straighten his uniform, “...to challenge Miles to trial by combat.”
        Well, that’s...definitely traditional. But also isn’t that usually to the death? He’s not taking the revelation that he’s been wrong all this time that badly, is he? Desmond catches Shaun’s gaze to try to figure out if there’s anything else the man can communicate wordlessly and the only thing he’s getting at this point is utter bewilderment.
        “You cannot serve,” Helwing insists dismissively. Javier quickly covers up any traces of hurt at the pronouncement.
        “I’m the best fighter you have,” he states simply. Not a boast, like he would have done before. Just a fact. “That is, unless you wish to prove your own point. The righteous man will win.”
        Well. Altaïr had spared Maria, so hopefully there’s some sort of precedent for that, too. All Desmond has to do is win without killing him. It won’t be easy, but Desmond can pull his punches, right? Especially since they haven’t given his Hidden Blades back. He can do this.