Lost In Paris-- [Renee/Open?]

[MARKOS JANS ZOON]

MARKOS JANS ZOON
- Assassin – Novice – Dutch –
”FRENCH.” ----- ”DUTCH.”

He didn’t enjoy being on the ground. The crowds of people moved around him, ignoring the hooded man while he wandered aimlessly amongst them. Originally the plan was to stay above, to take the roofs instead of mingling with the persons below. Above, Markos would be able to avoid the guards patrolling the streets and have better aim with his weapons if the need arose. Instead, the young assassin had been forced below by the alarming amount of fighters that watched the rooftops. Markos’ aim was the best among the novices back in the Netherlands and he could take out those guards with a well-aimed knife. Though, on second thought, to have dead French guard littering the roofs not a prime way to stay anonymous.

To avoid being most wanted in Paris, he had climbed down the nearest building and forced himself to blend with the crowd. With the quick movement of his hand, he pulled his hood over his conspicuous white-blonde hair and plunged into the moving masses of people.

Without direction the assassin wandered as he had done the last few days. Paris was a labyrinth for the Netherlands native, the language of French continued to elude him, and the people seemed less than willing to help him, they were more interested in their own affairs. That left the Dutch assassin on his own with little food, money, and dignity until either one of his brothers showed up or a kind enough person offered to help him.

Markos had briefly played with the idea of seeking out the Assassin bureau that was located in Paris. His brothers there would help him but that meant giving a reason for being in Paris. It was one that he wasn’t supposed to share. That was an idea not quite worth pursuing.

It wasn’t until midday that Markos finally let his feet rest. There hadn’t been a single sign of his fellow Dutch assassins but plenty of French guardsmen to worry the novice. What had brought Markos to a halt though was a small food stand. The wares that it was selling were not of top quality, which the noble-born boy was used to, but it appeared much more appetizing than the stale bread and the few, nearly rotten apples Markos had in his possession.

Digging in his pocket, Markos tried to find the coins that he had received from his brothers a few days prior. “Damn.” He cursed when he could only produce two coins. It didn’t quite look to be enough for the food. “I could always steal; the guards wouldn’t be able to catch me.”

[/b] Markos spoke his thoughts out loud, unafraid of being judged. The people that passed stared but because of the strange language the assassin spoke. None of them understood what was being said.

After a few moments, something kept the assassin from following through with his plan. Markos could kill a man with the bolt of a crossbow from several rooftops away but he couldn’t steal from a simple vendor. Then again, he was an assassin, not a thief.
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[JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFEVRE]

JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFERVE
- Courtesan - Manager -

Long dark brown hair moved in a gentle breeze, some say it was black but in summer it lightened so you could see the brown, her blue eyes searched the crowds looking for those who might be interested in her girls, she had three of her newest courtesans with her, she never went anywhere without at least two courtesans, she scanned the stalls disgusted by the standard of food, she did not want to send her girls here but the men here were more gentle and less demanding, a good starting point for her newbie’s. Her more experienced girls were in the richer areas, girls were only allowed to go there when they had proved they could cope with the men. Rich men were demanding, violent and abusive but all in varying degrees, enough though to scare of a newbie, girls came by the dozen but she did not want to put them in that sort of situation, nobody deserved that unless they were trained for it.


She spotted a decent looking group of three men, ‘perfect’ she thought as she moved towards them, as she neared her walk changed, to that of a more luscious and attractive walk, as if on cue her flirty charm came out “Hello Boys” she said walking up to the one she considered the leader, she ran her hand over his chest, a move that instantly triggered his full attention, her girls flanked her sides following her lead in the simple gestures that always seemed to turn men on. “Care to try out my new girls” she smiled sweetly “I’ll do a special price” she moved back to let the girls take over, she knew the men would pay or the girls would make them either way she didn’t care so long as she got her money, there brothel needed some renovations, as the girls disappeared off down the road she turned to look around her, she decided to browse the stalls maybe she would find something that interested her while she waited for the girls to return.


A hooded figure caught her attention, she it took her a moment before she realised it was an assassin, ‘what is an assassin doing in this part of town’ she wondered, as far as she knew the assassins were busy in the heart of Paris plotting there next move. Curious she followed, she saw his attention become captured by a vendor and watched as he shuffled through his pockets but failed to buy anything ‘a poor assassin? Must be a novice, but he is not French’ she gathered by the language he was speaking it was not familiar to her, deciding to save the poor thing from starving she moved closer to him enough for him to hear her whisper “hungry Assassin?” She moved into his line of sight but at enough of a distance that he could not attack her easily. She did not know him therefore did not trust him, but he was an assassin so she would feed him and give him a bed if need be, She did have a heart although she hardly ever let it show.

[MARKOS JANS ZOON]

MARKOS JANS ZOON
- Assassin – Novice – Dutch –
”FRENCH.” ----- ”DUTCH.”

Markos crossed his arms while he continued to stare at the stall. The man standing there, a small man with a graying beard gave the boy a quick glance but probably brushed him off as a poor street urchin. While one could consider Markos’ clothes fine and definitely of better quality of the others around him, the wear and tear of the last few weeks had left them ragged and dirty. He hadn’t had the chance to wash them properly for three days. ‘I must be a rather frightening sight.’ Markos thought as he pulled down his hood and felt through his blonde hair. Sweat had plastered it close to his head and the curls had flattened out and become stiff with mistreatment.

All this time he traveled through France, the young assassin had not expected someone to speak to him directly. When the soft voice of a woman addressed him, the young man jumped and a hand automatically flew to a throwing knife. It was deemed unnecessary when Markos identified the owner of the voice. A young woman with long brown hair watched him; he noticed the distance that she put herself at. She had been anticipating an attack, not that the distance would’ve helped with Markos’ fighting techniques, but she was used to men who could do damage. Second, despite the distance, she seemed kind and the look in her eye showed no hostility. While he had not recognized the words she used, the tone had not been unfriendly.

“Wat?” He started out, unsure of what to say to this French woman. Back in the Netherlands, he could barely speak to the women native to his country. How was he supposed to communicate with this one? “I speak little French. Sorry.” He switched from Dutch to French and hoped that his message went across. His grasp on the French language was still limited and it was hard enough to form simple sentences in his head, he couldn’t understand a single word that was being spoken around him.

When Markos looked down at his hands, he noticed that one was still wrapped around the throwing knife. He had to consciously uncurl his fingers from the weapon and let it hang. His first instinct for everything unknown was to throw a knife in its general direction. Not the best strategy in most situations but it saved his ass more than he could count.

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[JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFEVRE]

JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFERVE
- Courtesan - Manager -

Jamellia’s blue eyes studied him carefully watching his hand as it automatically went to what was probably a knife in his pocket, she smiled, she had expected this, all assassin’s were the same she had learnt early in life to never startle one unless you were prepared, her eyes went to his face as he spoke in a foreign language, she frowned she still didn’t know which language it was. Her eyes lit up as he spoke French, although he said he spoke little that was enough for her, she smiled as she pointed to herself, it was kind of like talking to a child who was still learning to talk “Jamellia” she said indicating her name “friend” she wanted him to know she was not going to do him wrong. She wondered what he was doing here, was he here on a mission?

She turned to look back down the road, her girls has still not returned, she would have to ask Maximus if he could escort them back, it was not safe for her newbie’s to be walking the streets alone they hadn’t finished their first defence lessons, she wouldn’t be a good hostess if she didn’t take him to get something to eat and have a shower, by the looks of him she would say he hadn’t showered in a couple of days, she then pointed to the food in the stall and gestured for him to follow, hoping he got what she meant “come, I have food” she said a simply as she could maybe he might of understood.

She turned to walk through the crowds, her elegant frame easily moving around the hordes of people, she turned back once to indicate to him again before carrying on through the crowds, she knew assassins didn’t like to move amongst the people but since the roof tops were so heavily guarded it was the only way unless they wanted to become widely known as one of the most wanted. She didn’t know what to think about his male weather to fully trust him or not, he seemed harmless, maybe once she got to know him a bit more she would know, maybe he could even teach her a bit of his language, she loved to learn new things, she could even teach him some French.

[MARKOS JANS ZOON]

MARKOS JANS ZOON
- Assassin – Novice – Dutch –
”FRENCH.” ----- ”DUTCH.”

The way the woman looked at him, that smile across her face, she knew something. She seemed completely comfortable with the knives visible underneath his tunic, unsurprised by his automatic reaction to reach for them. Surely men in France couldn’t be horrible enough to make her expect violence. She did look very confused though by his language, she obviously did not recognize Dutch. While it could sometimes be found in France, it wasn’t common for a normal French citizen to know it. She did seem hopeful at his French but admittedly, that was almost the extent of it. He really should have paid more attention when it was being taught to him.

Markos was rather surprised when she continued speaking to him, despite his indication that he may not understand. Her name, he could only assume, was Jamellia and the second word, he had a moment of nothing. Then it came to him, one of the simple words that his teacher had started out with. ‘Friend.’

‘Can I trust her?’ Markos thought. She didn’t seem dangerous, and he could most likely overpower her if the circumstances called for it. Then the woman pointed toward the food stall he had been looking at. Her next few words were in French, a phrase that he had no hope of understanding, and then motioned for him to follow. Without another word, she turned and entered the crowd, obviously wanting the young assassin to follow.

For a moment, Markos hesitated. Should he follow? It could be a trap. Then again, her signal toward the food stand possibly meant she was offering him a meal. In that case, it would be worth the risk. He had very little food left of his own and no money to purchase more. Either run the chance that it may be problematic and dangerous to follow or starve. He chose the first option.

Jogging to catch up, Markos dodged the people in the crowd to walk beside Jamellia. “Markos.” He gave a tentative smile when he pointed to himself. “Thank you.” He spoke slowly. Markos admittedly felt a bit idiotic, his short and choppy sentences hardly got his point across, and he was completely lost, short of starving, and in general looked like a beggar. Why was this woman helping him? He wanted to ask but he was unsure if he had the words to do so. ‘I must sound like a tourist.’ He thought and suddenly the thought came around to him. Glancing at her clothes, the way Jamellia carried herself, why hadn’t it been obvious before?

The young assassin stopped in his tracks, half in horror and the other in shock. Was this woman a courtesan? He had nothing against the women that chose this path but this only added more questions. Why was she helping him? She wasn’t going to receive work from him. Just the thought of it made Markos grimace. “Why help me?” Somehow he managed to find the words from French classes from his childhood, which had been limited between Assassin training. “No money, nothing.”

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[JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFEVRE]

JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFERVE
- Courtesan - Manager -

Her eye’s scanned the crowd around them, you could never be too careful, she turned to look back at the young assassin, she smiled when she saw him jogging to catch up with her, she must trust her, well to some extent anyway, no assassin would willing follow a stranger unless they had a very good feeling that they were not walking into a trap. She wondered how her girls were, she knew the men they were with, they were regulars but she knew better then to walk up to them in a crowed street acting like they were, who knows who could be watching.

She turned to look at him as he reached her matching her stride, she smiled as he said his name, pointing to himself to make sure his message got across, she couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, she felt silly talking this way, it looked ridiculous but it would have to do for now as it was the only way they could communicate. “You’re Welcome” she replied simply, it was weird not being able to have a full conversation; she was normally friendly to new people unless they gave her a reason to be weary. She guessed that he probably felt the same way, it was almost frustrating as she thought of small fazes that he might understand.

The assassin stopped suddenly, Jamellia instantly put her hand to her dagger, thinking they were about to be attacked, a quick glance around them left her puzzled, she released her dagger turning to Markos she studied his face and quickly realised why he had stopped. The look on his face was priceless, she couldn’t believe it took him this long to realise her profession; she let out a light chuckle, her smile lighting up her face as he asked why she was helping him, she pointed to his attire, although to the untrained eye it looked like any other clothing but she knew better “Assassin” she whispered “Friend” she hope her message got through she knew sentences would not cut it, especially when she needed to get her point across quickly.

“Food?, Bath?” she wondered if he knew the simple words, she would have to find a better way to communicate with him, maybe one of the girls in the brothel would be able to understand him? She would not like to see what the order would do to her if she left him on the streets hungry and grubby, her alliance with them stated for her and her girls to help any assassin in need by providing shelter, food and do the odd mission if the need arises, in exchange they got protection and helped the order try save this countries free will, for without they would be nothing.

[MARKOS JANS ZOON]

MARKOS JANS ZOON
- Assassin – Novice – Dutch –
”FRENCH.” ----- ”DUTCH.”

Markos felt guilty for being on high alert. His training and experience shouted from the back of his mind. ‘Don’t trust her. You could be walking into a trap.’ Yet, the way she smiled at him and led him through the crowd, it was a welcomed substitute for the meaningless wandering he had done for days. She seemed kind enough, worked with his inability to speak her language, and overall the most patient French citizen he had met. Most had shouted words at him that he couldn’t understand and turned away. He had not received a lick of help in this foreign city until Jamellia came along. When he learned how, he would tell her exactly how grateful he was.

She responded to his thanks with a phrase he moderately recognized but then his sudden stop changed her demeanor as well. A hand went toward what Markos could only guess was a weapon but then read his expression. Without time to reach for a typical throwing knife, he released his hidden blade but quickly slid it back in when Jamellia instead stifled laughter. A bright red blush crept across Markos’ face when he understood that she noticed his realization of her profession. He fiddled with the latches on his hidden blade, using it an excuse to hide his face when they resumed. The spotless blade hardly needed his incompetent hands messing with it but he couldn’t look at Jamellia.

Markos perked up when Jamellia spoke again. “Assassin?” He echoed and let his arms fall to his sides. For a moment, he was at a loss at what the words meant. Then, when she pointed to him, he understood. She knew. “Moordenaar.” Markos spoke in his own language and then adding at the end. “Assassin. I am assassin.” He lowered his voice to copy the tone of Jamellia. Back in his home, the Guild was revered and accepted by most civilians. Was it not the same here? Guess not. Maybe he should have been even more careful.

A second thought came to Markos, if this woman was connected with the Brotherhood in France, was it a good idea to be with her? In all technicality, the French Brotherhood was not supposed to be aware of the Dutch assassins. They were in Paris to observe and be sure that the trouble stirring there would not spread to the Netherlands. Markos was unsure what would become of him if the Grand Master in Paris discovered him.

He did not tell this to the courtesan though. Even if he wanted to, Markos was confident he would not have the words to do so. Instead he gave a timid smile at her words, neither of which he knew the meaning immediately. One he remembered from earlier, when she had been pointing at the stall, it probably meant something along the lines of food. “Ja. I cannot thank more.” His French sounded broken and silly but he hoped over time, he could adapt. “Where we going?” Markos finally recovered the courage and words to ask. This time, he had been following her blindly without asking of the destination. What kind of assassin was he?


<sub>1. Moordenaar- Assassin (Dutch)
2. Ja- Yes (Dutch)</sub>

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[JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFEVRE]

JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFERVE
- Courtesan - Manager -

She chuckled as he blushed, he was sensitive, it was a nice change from the hard arse assassins she knew, although she knew they had their sensitive points they just never showed it. She watched him fiddle with his blade, the same one all assassins carried, used for close combat or sneak attacks. She knew a lot about the creed, most of her information she had learnt from Lucas the rest from Maximus, Maximus was her closest and dearest friend, maybe he would know why this foreign assassin was here and maybe he knew the language he was speaking, once she knew that she would be able to find a better way to communicate with him.

She turned to look down the road; they were not that far away from the brothel. She turned back to Markos as he spoke he repeated what she had whispered to him before, a little too loudly, she looked around them, lucky no one had heard. Her brow creased was he crazy, who knows who could be in the crowd, he then said another word in his language, she guessed it was the translation for assassin; she would have to remember that for future reference. She leaned in closer to his as he lowered his tone, speaking perfect French; she was shocked he picked things up very quickly.

She smiled and turned to continue walking down the street, she then heard him speak once more, she stopped at a side street and turned to reply, pointing to a house covered in red trappings, clearly showing it was a brothel “My Home” she replied if he didn’t understand her words he would know what she meant by looking were she was pointing. As she continued down the street she began to wonder why he was so hesitant at times, did the courtesans and assassins where he lived not help one another, the French ones had been working together as far back as she could remember.

She quickly walked up to the door, swinging it open as she walked in she started barking orders at the courtesans “Claudia fetch some food, we have company and he is very hungry, set it up in my office, he is a bit jumpy so keep the girls away from him” Claudia was her personal maid/assistant if you would call her that, she did all the little jobs to help Jamellia out, she would be lost without her and valued her help greatly. She then turned back to look at Markos motioning him inside.

[MARKOS JANS ZOON]

MARKOS JANS ZOON
- Assassin – Novice – Dutch –
”FRENCH.” ----- ”DUTCH.”

Markos wiped his sweaty bangs off his forehead as he trotted behind Jamellia. After she had stopped speaking and he could stop translating, his eyes wandered. In a vain attempt to memorize the path being taken, he tried to figure out a plan if this went awry. His tired mind didn’t seem to allow it. Again and again, he was bothered with the possible thought that he was about to wander into a trap but after the mention of Brotherhood, coming directly from the woman, he calmed down in the slightest. Hopefully she truly was a friend. If not, Markos may have to use his hidden blade for the first time in a long time.

The sudden stop forced Markos to dig his heels to keep from tumbling forward. Jamellia pointed in the distance to a building covered in red banners, the walk to there wasn’t far. She spoke but the meaning of the words were lost on Markos He was only able to nod, to pretend that he understood. Though, she did motion toward the building and his only guess was that was their destination. In response, he only pointed and gave a questioning look but she did not anwer.

Instead he picked up pace once more as she continued through the crowd. The building came in closer and without hesitation, Jamellia swung open the door.

Markos had never been inside a brothel. There had been one instance when his father offered to hire a courtesan for his less than dormant son but that had been the closest Markos came to a brothel. It was a nice place, he had to admit. No expenses had been spared to make it beautiful but it was the girls that quickly made the young man uncomfortable. He had known women before, he did live with his mother and sister but the courtesans were a different story.

If one came too close, Markos reeled away and moved closer to Jamellia. She started to bark orders almost at once and the assassin realized that she must be in charge. The courtesan spoke directly to one girl in particular, the French too rapid for Markos to properly translate. Finally she turned to him and motioned for him to come inside. The smells of perfume and flowers were overwhelming when he stepped inside and his head spun for a moment. He then recovered and tried to stand tall, hoping to make his distress seem less prominent. Most of the apprehension Markos had earlier had vanished though, a trust for the head courtesan had grown. She was going to help him, finally someone decent in the city of Paris.

"Thank you." He repeated and felt as if he would never say it enough.

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[JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFEVRE]

JAMELLIA ABIGIAL LEFERVE
- Courtesan - Manager -

She smiled as Markos quickly moved away from the girls if they came to close, he was very shy, oh well being here should help that, she turned to look at the group of girls in the room, all whom eyes were watching Markos, waiting for him to move slightly to far from Jamellia’s side. Jamellia glared at them “Don’t you have work to do” she said annoyed, they always tried to throw themselves over the guests, they needed better training, there was a time for courting and then there was a time for decency, it was time they learnt the difference.

Claudia quickly returned “Ready” she said politely he eyes flicking to Markos, Jamellia smiled Markos would have to get use to their attention because with him being an assassin he was going to get a lot of it. “Find Maximus and see if he can pick up the new girls for me” Jamellia said, she would have to give Markos some time to get use to all this before she left him alone. She watched Claudia leave before turning to Markos as he thanked her, “you’re welcome” she smiled at him he was very appreciative, a rare quality in paris. She knew her words would probably be lost on him, but it was better than saying nothing.

She motioned for him to follow “Come” she walked up the stairs that were in the middle of the room and turned left walking up the next lot of stairs, once on the landing she looked around, the landing looped around over to the right set of stairs, the entrance to the brothel was large and open the way she liked it, she walked through the second door she passed, her desk in the middle of the room had been cleared and food now covered it, she smiled Claudia had done a good job as always.

She moved to shelf in the right corner were her documents that had been on her table had been put, she shuffled through them, she had been waiting for something to arrive but it was not here yet, she turned to the seat closest to her and sat down, she pointed to the food so Markos knew he could help himself, she wanted to know more about him, he curiosity getting the better of her, maybe she should try to see if she could get him to tell her his language.She pointed to herself again, “Jamellia, French” she said before turning to point at him “Markos, ?” she hoped he would get her meaning, she didn’t know how else to ask him.