The Thief and the Assassin by Ace (books to read as a couple .txt) 📖

13 May, 1379

Oh! such a cruel existance we live in. My poor madre

, god rest her soul, has passed on tonight, leaving me alone in the world. It seems as though the fever spreads more quickly now, quicker than ever before, taking the people of our small villaggio

like a great blaze. I am only in my fourteenth year of life, and I have seen the death of my young sister, father, mother, and two closest friends, all at the hands of this strange illness. I fear I am next, so now, even as I write, a caravan I could barely pay for rides me to Venetzia, were I am to live my life as a lowly begger or a theif, either one is no better than the other.

14 May, 1379

We have arrived at Venetzia, finally. It is a beautiful city, lively with people. The gondola rowers sing their throaty songs as they drive their long poles into sparkling water that flows from the sea. As I wander through the streets in shadow, barely a coin to my worthless name, I marvel and think deeply. How did the water get to the canals? How can the water flow so freely when it can be so easely disturbed? Do the canals flood the city when there are heavy rains? If so, how can the people survive when everything is under the water? All this pondering is making quite hungry, I must find a loaf of bread to eat. How much does one cost in Venetzia?

Later- Not a bite to eat tonight, and my stomach roars with hunger as I sit in a dark, dank alley-way with another poor person named Francesco. We have grown to know eachother well, yet he is a dying old man. I would not be surprised if he were to have me write his will at the stroke of twelve.

15 May, 1379

I awoke this morning to bright sunlight and a small bag of moneta

where Francesco used to be. This puzzled me deeply, for Francesco was a poor man, like I... Or was he? Now that I recall, he did not tell me where he was from, so I assumed it was Venetzia, of course. Nor did he tell me how he got a very nasty scar on his brow leading down to his lower jaw. I assume it doesn't matter, for this person was very kind and left me with more than enough to buy bread and water.

Later- After my meal, I still had enough money left to buy a new pair of greaves, for mine are worn and have holes in them. I went to the blacksmith, for he is the one that makes shoes, I have seen him with my own two eyes with his awl repairing a heel on a man's boot. I gave him the rest of my money, and he handed me a new pair of leather boots, fresh from the shop. He smiled and also handed me new clothes as well. When I lokked at him with surprise and questioning, he only laughed and bid me good fortune. Before he turned away, I asked if I could change in his restroom.
Quothe he: "Of course, my boy! You seem like a strong young man, not likely to cause your mother trouble."
Quothe I: "Unfortunately, my dearest madre

has passed on recently."
Quothe he: "Oh. Perdonami, non avevo idea."

Quothe I: "E'bene, buon signore.

She was a good woman."

Later- I do look dashing in my new clothes. All the pretty la ragazze

stare with love-struck expressions when I sroll by. I am now sitting on a firm bench in a square of one of the churches, admireing my new greaves and leather pants. My shirt is crisp and white, a stark contrast to my leather vest, and seems to glow in the midday sun. I wink at a group of women who stare at me in the far corner of the courtyard. They giggle and blush, talking amongst themselves.

Later- Tonight, as I wander through the empty streets alone, a kind man offers me lodging in exchange for a simple task. I must deliver a letter to the address on the envelope. Unfortunately the woman awaiting the arrival has been locked away in her home by her father. I tuck the letter into my bag (a gift from the man), and carefuly scale the wall, pulling myself up with ease. I got to the roof swinging my legs over the edge and standing up. I looked around me. No archers in sight. I am surprised at this, for there are many theives in Venetzia, and archers must be posted everey twenty feet. A low whistle startled me out of my thoughts. Behind me, a man dressed in reagged clothes stood behind me, his dagger glinting in the light of the moon.
Quothe he: "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
Saying this, he began to stalk towards me slightly raising his weapon with each step.
Quoth I: "Only a poor boy delivering a letter."
He laughs at this.
Quoth he: "You expect me to beleive that load of merda di vacca

? You dress like a noble, and you do not have an evelope in your hand. You expect me to beleive this, then you, dear boy, are an idiota

."
At this I jump to my feet and clip him on the chin. He looks at me shocked, like I had prouted another head and three other arms. He ran, dropping his dagger behind him. I picked it up and stuffed it into my pack, taking out the envelope and setting it on the open windowsill.

16 May, 1379

After I awoke this morning, my generous host invited me to breakfast. At first I refused, but he is a persistant man, and I quickly dressed in my fresh washed clothes and met him at the elegant table. His mother, father, and three sisters sat and waited as I hurried down the staircase. The older two girls giggled and spoke to each other softly as I sat. And so we supped, and I left with a harty thank you and a full bag ducats for my troubles. I wonder if I could go to the harbour to find work?

Later-I have thougt long about what I could do to earn money, and I have decided to go to the harbour and become a sailor's apprentice. But, as the gondola entered the docks, a band of archers shot at us, knocking my rower into the icey sea and putting an arrow through my thigh. "Damn it!" I screamed, holding my injured leg. Blood dribbled to the bottom of the boat, and arrows flew past me everywere. One nicked my cheek, another sliced my shoulder. I dived into the water, thankful I knew how to swim. I came up for air every few seconds, at that time the archers continued their assult. I reached the wooden planks that made up the docks and grabbed ones ankle, pulling him into the sea. Then, out of the shadows, a group of theives attacked the archers, while another fished me out, and pulled me onto the wharf. My vision was blurred, hence I could not see who had rescued me. Then all went dark.

19 May, 1379

I awoke this afternoon in a daze. A woman in desultory clothing and short, scraggly hair stood beside me. A tight bandage was wrapped around my leg, and I had a lair of gauze on my cheekbone. It caused me great pain to move my head, but I managed to see what she was doing, which was dipping a cloth in a pan full of cold water. "I see you are up," she said. "Come ti senti?

" "Bene

", I lied. She chuckled, "Lier." At that point, I noticed my journal on the dresser, and she did, too. She picked it up and asked me what I would like to write, and jotted it doen as I spoke, looking at me maliciously when I said that her clothing was ratty, and swatting my injured leg when I complimented that her hair was messy.

Text: [NOT A COPYRIGHT NOTE] This book follows a fourteen-year-old boy who goes by the name of Volpe, from the time he was a poor orphan on the streets to his death in 1451. WARNING: This story contains coarse language, sexual themes, and blood and gore, reader discretion is advised.
Publication Date: 01-08-2011

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To Ubisoft, for giving me the ispiration. PLEASE DON'T SUE!!!! ;3