Power Play
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Power play
Felicia de Pastino lay on the ground bleeding from a wound to her lower
back, a small puddle forming underneath her. The red dress she was
wearing had been ripped in numerous places across her side and sleeves,
leaving jagged pieces of cloth hanging from the garment. Huge gashes were
open in the mass of fabric below her waist displaying a white petticoat
hidden under the luxurious fabrics of the dress, leaving her in an even
larger state of disarray. Besides the wound in the back, she had a
multitude of cuts and bruises, some bleeding, some not, but none of them
as fatally as the gaping hole by her spine. In the darkness of the
evening the blood splatter was all but lost in the redness of the dress.
The beautiful handiwork of Italian tailors that she had worn to many high
court events was now utterly ruined. The expertly woven cloth-of-gold
hairnet has hanging from her loose black hair - hair which only a little
while ago had been breathtakingly silky and smooth, but was now muddy and
sticky.
Her shoes were stuck in the mud a few hundred metres away along with the
silver fox furcoat, all dirtied by the torrential rain that hit Portugal
every so often. Leading up to princess de Pastino one could notice a
mish-mash of skidmarks and footprints in the black mud, mingled with
drops of blood that were only increasing in size as one got closer to the
princess.
With every wheezing breath the pool of blood underneath her expanded. The
realisation of her imminent death was etched in her face - her green-grey
eyes wide in terror, mouth slightly open, still gasping for breath. At
this moment she could only think of what landed her in this dire
situation.
Six years ago, she had been betrothed to the Prince of Portugal in an
eventful evening on Midsummer's Eve. The following years had been a
whirlwind of activity - marriage, moving in to the royal palace, being
assigned a place on the council of Lisbon, then onto the council of war.
Her life had been full of lavish parties, where she spent hours on end
discussing everything from politics to new fashions with the cream of
Portuguese society. She was expert on all fields and so it hadn't been a
surprise to see her climb so high. Of course, being married to the prince
was a contributing factor as well.
That was another side of her life that she had fully enjoyed. The prince
of Portugal had given her all she could possibly ask for - pretty
dresses, the best of servants, gorgeous quarters. He showered her with
gifts and gold. And in return the princess was more than happy to give
the prince the royal treatment. Her domain was the bedroom and the prince
was more than happy to submit to such an exquisite display of skills that
the princess possessed.
But for the last half a year things had been going badly. Her
subordinates had been reported missing or dead, her position in the war
council became unstable, leading to being voted out of it, same happened
in the city council of Lisbon. Her campaigns to restore order were
shunned upon and finally she had been confined to the prince's palace
being accused of bribery and subterfuge until further investigation.
Truth be told, she had been indeed using underhand tactics to secure her
position, pleading mostly on the Prince, her husband. Other sanctions of
hers were forced through at swordpoint or put into place behind the
scenes. Her womanly charms had also been one of her main tools of trade,
as many of the nobles of Portugal can attest to. Now that all of that was
surfacing to the public, she found her situation dire indeed.
The only one to never falter by her side was her husband, though. Always
supporting, always loving, always appreciative, always lustful. He was
the reason why Felicia de Pastino ("The Green Maid" as they called her),
had still been safe so far. So far.
Now though, she was breathing her last breath, as a shadowy figure knelt
over her and placed a gloved hand gently to her cheek, as if to for the
last time appreciate the incredible beauty of Felicia de Pastino. Beauty
which had not been marred by the desperate chase through the muddy
streets of Lisbon, nor the countless injuries from the assassin's blade.
"Go with peace into the arms of God"
The princess drew her last breath and then slumped down onto the ground,
arms limp and chest no longer heaving. The assassin standing over her
closed her eyes and knelt for a moment in silent prayer before standing
up to leave the scene.
For a fleeting moment something seemed amiss to the assassin, so he took
another glance back at the prone corpse. There seemed to be some skin
hanging near the woman's neckline, but no blood, bruise or cut seemed to
be apparent. The assassin inspected that oddity closer, looking for the
actual injury, but all he found was that the little piece of skin simply
seemed to be coming away, revealing more skin underneath.
By slowly pulling, the split propagated and started coming off, as if the
skin of the young lady's face and neck was shedding. Underneath it,
though, the assassin spotted a slightly darker and rougher skin - it had
a stubble.
Baffled by the strange appearance, the assassin kept peeling the skin off
the princess. The skin came off all together with the muddied hair,
revealing underneath it the face and head of a man in his late thirties.
A face that the assassin was all too familiar of: Templar Master Fluvio
de Oliviera.
Some time ago the Assassins had caught wind of a Templar agent within the
high court of Portugal that had been causing trouble. After months of
meticulous work spying, interrogating and investigating the Brotherhood
was more than sure that the agent was the beautiful princess Felicia de
Pastino. Another week later a plan had been put to place for her
elimination. Now, though, it seemed that the Templars had been far
cleverer and resourceful with their infiltration - the proof of that
stood right before the eyes of the assassin.
The mask of Felicia de Pastino hung in the assassin's hand, eyeholes
empty and mouth lopsided. The beautiful handicraft had not been damaged
in any way, apart from the dirty hair, but that could be fixed easily.
The mask, it seemed was not the only part of the elaborate disguise. The
assassin discovered a similar piece of skin protruding from the neck
downwards, suggesting that the whole body of the princess was but a
disguise. On closer inspection, though, the assassin noticed rips and
cuts in the suit from the wounds that she had sustained during her
fruitless escape.
It could be mended, the assassin thought, but not here and now. With
that, he stored the mask in his satchel and picked up the corpse of the
princess... of the templar master in disguise, and set off back to the
hideout. There would be much to learn from this, perhaps he should take
it up with the Grand Master himself.
-------
Ezio Auditore da Firenze had been to Lisbon before, but never would he
have thought to be spending his afternoon gazing upon a body of a
princess with the head of a known templar.
He was a man of almost forty years now, with a dark cropped beard and a
pensive gaze. In his youth he might've been a desirable man among the
ladies and that demeanour had not changed over the years. Even more so,
he had become stockier, stronger and more experienced, which gave him an
aura of authority and wisdom. Precisely the man you'd expect to find at
the head of the Assassins. At this moment his eyes were surveying the
prone body before him.
"I have seen it before. The Assassins and Templars have been using such
tactics before. True, it is not known, and I am sure there have been only
a handful of occasions, but I've read of this before."
The Grand Master Assassin could see the handiwork of Rodrigo Borgia in
all this. Not long ago had the Pope visited Portugal and not long ago had
Ezio found out that he had the Papal Staff - a powerful ethereal device
capable of deceiving the minds of men and containing unimaginable
knowledge. This was the result of it - an incredibly detailed bodysuit of
a young Portuguese princess. Ezio had seen the power of a similar device
before - a Piece of Eden - and yes even used it. He didn't feel that
sharing that with the assassin beside him was a wise idea though.
"The bodysuit itself seems to be unusable now, I am afraid - the cuts
will not be mendable, but the mask is intact, so I recommend using it.
I'm sure you have female assassins here in Lisbon, if you could find one
of similar build and skin tone and then put the mask on her, she could
take the place of Felicia de Pastino and the Templars would be none the
wiser. Our cause would be gaining important intel on the Templar
activities and furthermore, the public wouldn't know of the death of
their beloved princess and a potential instability can be averted."
"An excellent idea, sir-" Ezio waved his hand dismissively at the formal
addressing by the Portuguese assassin, "I think we can find a suitable
replacement for this ruse."
------
And so it was, that now a young assassin, Isabella, found herself in a
dressing room donning the clothes and disguise of Felicia de Pastino.
Isabella, was slightly lighter and slimmer than the princess, but it was
only a tiny discrepancy. Her dark brown hair had been cut short for the
mask, but that didn't diminish the assassin's charm one bit. Her cute
button nose and high cheekbones still gave her a very alluring look, and
her smiles were enough to melt a man. A pity that such beauty would be
hidden behind a mask.
She had already dressed in the pettycoat and undergarments of the
princess. She was also wearing a corset, but only for show, because her
lithe frame was slim enough. It did help to push out her breasts, for the
real princess's - now determined to be long deceased - ones were slightly
bigger and rounder. Isabella moved in front of the mirror to inspect her
clothes, making a few poses and gestures - getting into the character of
a charming, but dangerous princess.
Following that, she picked up a dress that had been pinched from the
princess's bedroom - dark blue masterpiece, that brought the wearer's
stomach together and at the same time emphasising the breasts. Golden
lace trimmings ran along the breastline and down the back along the
spine. The large flaring bottom part was also streaked with golden
patterns. The assassin slipped the dress over her head and set it snugly
around her body. It wasn't a perfect fit, but looked magnificent on her
none-the-less.
The golden trim along the bottom edge of the dress lightly brushed the
floor when Isabella stepped into matching blue heels. She then glided
over to the mirror once more to take a critical look at her clothes. All
seemed to be in order, so she proceeeded to put on the main part of the
disguise - the mask.
She flipped the mask upside down, shaking out the hair so it wouldn't get
stuck under the neckline. The black hair had been once again restored to
its former smoothness and softness. She then pulled the mask over her
head and brought it all the way down. Next, the eyeholes were carefully
matched up, the nose was adjusted, lips placed above the full ones of
Isabella and the ears gently put inside the masks ones. Smoothing out a
few wrinkles on the face of Felicia de Pastino, the assassin made sure
that the disguise was perfect. She then blended the edge of the mask with
a bit of make up and then covered it with a golden choker necklace for
additional safety.
Isabella glanced at the mirror again and found only the playful smile of
princess de Pastino looking back at her. Her body was and face was a
complete package that was ready to entice any number of men. Isabella got
excited thinking of her next few weeks spent with the prince. Not just
that, but being in the disguise of such a woman was enough to make
Isabella shudder with pleasure. She was gently rubbing her new face and
running her fingers through her loose black hair, getting more and more
aroused. She was almost reaching down under her dress already when she
remembered the task ahead.
Giving another scrutinizing look at her disguise, she did a few turns in
front of the mirror. Satisfied, she grabbed a blue parasol from the
basket near the door and exited the room, to begin her mission.
In a few hours she would find herself on the beach, appealing to a city
guard that she had been lost and couldn't find her way home. The guard
would immediately recognize her and organize transport back to her
quarters and to her prince. The impersonation would have to continue
until the other assassins locate the original princess, but that wouldn't
be a problem for the stand-in. No, not at all.
Maris
- 08.11.2022
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