My short slumber ended nearly several hours ago. I had been mindlessly staring through the window and at the courtyard ever since. Winter had engulfed us in her purely white universe over night and I was granted the privilege of seeing every bit of the lethargic and enchanting process. This was of course due to what my physician called Insomnia. It prevented me from receiving an adequate amount of sleep, but in moments such as these, it was a blessing from God. These were the times in which I was thankful that I lived in as divine a place as St. Peter’s Basilica. The mere thought that I could watch nature’s work from as holy a place as this was unbelievable. Just as the profession I undertook in this church was unbelievable. As these thoughts circulated within my head, a slight rapping on the door to my room was made obvious by the silence of dawn. I didn’t expect anyone to come and pay me a visit at this time of hour and was stricken by the rudeness of the random character.
"Come in…" I reluctantly answered to the knocking of the unexpected person.
The door was slowly opened and striding in pompously was a recognizable short and stocky figure. He had a tan like tint to his skin from spending too much time in the sun and thin black mustache over his dry lips. It was Robert of St Albans from the order of the Knights Templar. "Hello Timothy" his eyes were full disgust as he painfully greeted me. "Pope Urban II requires you in his presence immediately." He quickly left before I could respond. This sort of treatment was regular. That’s how all the knights looked down at us assassins. As if we were trash beneath their feet. They spend their time hacking at each other without a set goal in their minds and rape innocent women and children afterwards and then have the nerve to call us worthless. My brotherhood takes pride in our laborious craft. We require patience, stealth, and cunning. Then we kill those essential to the plot of our enemies and slide back into the shadows and gain no credit. Just as important, if not more so, than the former. I pondered this as I quickly slipped on appropriate clothes to wear in front of the Holy Father. A brown tunic laced with golden silk and black cotton pants. I opened the door and ran out into the inner chamber. It was empty except for two men in long white hooded robes with black crosses across the torso and long yellow sashes across their waists. Their attire was that of fellow assassins. We were all from the Brotherhood of Cyril. A group of colleagues trained since birth and dedicated to killing in the name of Christ. Our orders for assassinations were given to us by the Pope personally and from the looks of it, I was going to be given a task.
I reached the entrance to the great court room and found the Pope sitting on a golden chair in front of a mosaic of Mary and statue of Jesus being crucified. He was accompanied by two Templar’s to his left and to his right. I cautiously walked towards the throne and kneeled before the steps after bowing my head. I couldn’t see it, but somehow I sensed a smile cross his face as I performed this act of respect. "You may stand Timothy." the words floated effortlessly from his mouth. I stood up and waited for the next flow of words to come out on cue. "I have a task for you. I’m choosing you because you are the most successful in your missions of all your brethren. This is unlike others that you have done before because the outcome determines something very important."
"And what might that be?" I eagerly asked.
"The very fate of our religion. Catholicism, Christianity, or whatever you may call it. Even other religions like Judaism and Eastern Buddhism too." I looked at him with a mix of awe and confusion. "I see you’re perplexed!" he gave an unconvincing laugh. "Do you know who Al-Hakim is?" he asked me dryly. "Yes, he’s the ruler of a Muslim dynasty in Egypt, right?" I quickly replied to avoid seeming ignorant.
"Correct. He’s planning to destroy the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and retrieve the Spear of Destiny. The same lance that pierced Christ in the side as he hung on the cross."
"Isn’t that just a myth? And even if it is true, how does it determine the fate of Christianity."
"It is and has always been real and was kept by descendants of the same knight who pierced Jesus in the side, Longinus. They created the Knights Templar to protect that very object. But that’s aside from the point. It is said that any who wield it can change the face of history and rule nations upon nation. Guide millions of people with their words and decide the future of the world. The legend is true and many have used it to lead great countries. Some like Julius Caesar led vast and powerful empires. Most of them though…used it for evil. He plans to use it to bring chaos to the world and rule it as he sees fit. "
I quickly grew suspicious. "And how do you know of his plans?" "We have spies among his battalions that send us messages through pigeons."
"And you want me to get rid of him for the good of our people, of course?" "That is correct."
I took a look at the courtyard through a window to my left. It was still snowing and still just as beautiful. I sighed and looked pope directly in his eye.
"I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for my country and because I’m obligated to."
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