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"Why have you come here?" asked Gero in a loud voice, as if addressing a large audience, larger, certainly than the two men standing before him. His brother answered.
"You have been a grey agent for too long," Ferdinand began. Although he seemed only to be a chaotic neutral, it was clear Gero favored the templars over the assassins. "So which do you chose?"
Gero stopped to think for a moment. Not that it was necessary. "Templar, I think," he concluded with mock indecisiveness.
Of course, Anton thought. He had seen it coming.
Ferdinand betrayed no emotion. "If that is your choice, then fine." And he turned way, beginning to walk back towards Anton.
With calm, fluid movements, Gero withdrew a pistol from his belt and aimed it at his brother's back. "No, not 'fine'..."
"Ferdinand, look out!" yelled Anton, but it was too late. Gero fired twice, and Ferdinand fell to the floor with a shout. In a flash, Anton had pulled his own firearm and shot Gero square in the chest, and he fell backwards.
Anton ran to Ferdinand, dropping to his knees and turning him over, face up. Blood was pooling on the ground, but he couldn't find from where.
"It's just my shoulder," Ferdinand struggled and sat up, pushing himself with his right arm. "Hurry, go to my brother."
Anton did so, wasting no time, only to find Gero already dead. Anton sighed, then brushed his fingertips over Gero's face, closing his eyes. He looked up at Ferdinand, now standing, and started to speak, but stopped. Ferdinand's expression told him he already knew.
Ferdinand went to his brother's side and wiped blood away from his mouth.
"Do not grieve his death. He chose the templars," Anton spoke when Ferdinand sighed heavily, struggling to hold back tears. "It would come sooner, in any case."
Ferdinand looked up at Anton. Anton noticed that even though the usual gleam had faded from Ferdinand's eyes, a new fire, one that Anton did not recognize, flickered behind them. Ferdinand stood, and before Anton could register his movements, he slid his hand from where it was clutching his left shoulder, and back handed Anton across the face.
"Do not dare speak of my brother that way again," he scolded with a low voice, too calm for someone in his situation. "Be grateful I don't blame you for his death."
Anton rubbed his cheek where it stung, wiping a bit of blood, not his of course, from his face, before speaking. "You don't... blame me?"
Ferdinand sighed, covering his face with his hand. "No, I don't blame you. I couldn't. It is not your fault. It is this war..."
"The Great War?"
"No, this never ending feud between the assassins and templars. Just think, how many people could have lived a happy life, if we would just stop fighting."
Anton was startled. Out of all his assassin peers, Ferdinand was one of the most enthusiastic ones, eager to fight, excited by life. This strange, new Ferdinand made him uncomfortable. This isn't the first time this side of him has shown. "But also, how many bad people would still be alive, killing, torturing people, and spreading lies?"
"We kill too, Anton. And that's just it. We believe we are doing the right thing. They believe they are doing the right thing. The truth is not either. There is no good or bad. It's all just a jumbled mess." He paused for a moment to wipe his eyes. "We're just going around in circles, there's no point to it. If only we could just see the truth, stop this ridiculous war, this ridiculous killing, then my brother might not be..." He trailed off, as if he could not bear to say the word. Dead.
Anton and Ferdinand stood for several moments, in silence.
Finally Anton gathered the courage to speak again. "We should get back. The others might be getting worried. And we need to get your shoulder treated, in any case."
"That..." Ferdinand answered with a sad smile, "will not be necessary." He sounded breathless.
Anton opened his mouth to ask why, but stopped. Something was wrong. Ferdinand fell to his knees. Anton ran and caught him before he fell any further.
"Ferdinand, what...!?" Anton looked over Ferdinand's shoulder and saw blood flowering on his upper back and soaking down through his clothes.
"When..!?"
"My brother always was a good shot, Anton." Ferdinand could no longer support himself even on his knees anymore. He slid down, and Anton caught him and laid him down on his back.
"But- "Anton didn't know what to do. He was beginning to panic.
"Shh..." Ferdinand hushed, as if trying to calm a small child. "Calm down, Anton, there's nothing to worry about."
"We have to go! You have to get up! You'll be fine, if we just go now!"
"Anton, I said it's fine. Now you had better leave before someone comes and finds the bodies."
"No they won't, because there will only be one to find!" Anton started to lift Ferdinand from the ground, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
"Anton!" Ferdinand's voice was steady and serious, but soft and whispery. "There's only one thing left you can do for me."
Anton shuddered. He was beginning to fail holding back his tears. "No, Ferdinand, you can't..."
"It's too late... there's no time left. I need you to take this," Ferdinand stopped and pulled something that was hanging around his neck out of his shirt. Then he snapped the cord and pressed it into Anton's hand. "I need you to give this to Cecilia." It was his metal tags.
"No... You can give it to her yourself..." Anton stammered. He bit his lip, clutching the tags. Tears were beginning to trickle down his cheeks, one by one.
"I'm sorry..." Ferdinand gasped. It was getting hard to breathe.
Anton clenched his eyes shut. "I promise, I will give it to her. I will not tell her your brother did-"
"No..." Ferdinand cut him off. "It was not my brother..." He stopped to breathe. "...it was the war..." With that, he sighed and shut his eyes. Anton felt his body relax. He did not attempt to continue holding in his tears. He started when he heard voices nearby.
"Over here, yes. This is where I heard the gunshots!" I was a woman's voice, and no doubt she was talking to a police officer, or worse, maybe even a soldier. Anton quickly rubbed his arm across his eyes and shoved the tags in his pocket. He then detached Ferdinand's hidden blade bracer and attached it to his own right arm. He climbed the brick wall of the nearest building, then set off along the rooftops after pulling his hood down over his head. Tears had begun clouding his vision once again.