Chapter Text
His father once told of their ancestor whose was legendary in his profession.
Arno had almost giggled, as much as a boy his age did, when his father told that his ancestor, who he spoke so venerably about, was a banker.
The conflicted look on Father’s face made Arno distressed. It was the same look Father had on that certain day in the year. Although, no one would tell him why.
His father soon came back to his senses and merely chuckled in response as he ruffled his hair, “His name was Thomas de Carneillon, Arno. And he is the reason why any of us are here today.”
If asked if he considered himself to be lucky, Thomas de Carneillon would respond with a blunt ‘yes.'
Because, indeed, he was lucky.
Thomas had the Creed, his friends, and fellow brothers, as well as his business.
Of course, traveling across Europe while managing to do his profession, banking, was a challenge. But still, someone needed to manage the finances and costs the Brotherhood had.
And that someone was himself.
The only thing he did not have was a companion. Alas, it was not unheard of for an Assassin his age to not have a lifelong partner.
His work and dedication to the Creed are paid in blood, in the truest sense. And not everyone would accept such dedication and blood so easily.
Thomas did not know why he even thought of such things as he nursed a vessel full of wine and a bag flush with coin. With the glazed look in his eyes and such money in plain sight, he was not shocked to see someone walking up to him.
He glanced curiously at the approaching hooded figure. Their steps were light and almost graceful in their movements. Perhaps…
The light revealed the uncovered part of their face only to reveal that they were a she.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle.” he greeted her with a professional yet guarded smile.
“And to you as well, Thomas de Carneillon. I am in need of your services.” In the pleasant haze the wine brought him, he could not help but think that her voice was pleasant akin to that of the richness of wine and the smoothness of honey.
Thomas knew that he should not be thinking such thoughts about a complete stranger. But as Domenico said, beauty will be appreciated as it deserves to be.
“Which kind?” he inquired. His wrist ready to unsheathe his hidden blade. He was not the kind of man that a woman could pull the wool over. He never let beauty deceive him as character was the thing he truly valued.
“This.” she handed him a letter which Thomas accepted. Their hands lightly brushed against each other with her jerking her hand away. He quickly withdrew his hand as well. An aversion to touch, she apparently had. He noted that before focusing on the situation at hand.
The letter.
“Ah, Domenico you sly fox.” Thomas chuckled out as he read over the contents of the letter.
“Excuse me, Thomas de Carneillon?” she said with uncertainty in her voice. Odd considering how confident and graceful she was moments ago.
“Call me Thomas. I am sure that we will be very much acquainted with one another by the time you leave my care, my apprentice.”
“Ah, yes,” she paused for a second, “Master.”
The Assassin nearly colored at the name. Oh, how his friends would make fun of him for that. He could just picture it now…
The woman shifted nervously in his gaze, “I never caught your name.”
“My name is Y/N.” she briefly stated before staring at his cup instead of his face.
Nervous, was she?
“Would you mind learning some French tomorrow, Miss Y/N?” Thomas himself was a tad nervous. It had been long since he had last taught someone much less a female. Perhaps, a less intensive and more peaceful lesson would bring them both to ease?
“No...No, I wouldn’t mind at all as long as I wasn’t a bother.”
“You would never be.” Thomas smiled. He had forgotten what is was like to be a mentor and teacher to someone of lesser experience. It was a pleasant feeling.
“Now,” He stood up from his chair and left a few coins for the owner of the establishment, “Let me escort you to your accommodations now, shall we?”