Characters
From Florence’s Oltrarno, orphaned by Medici rivals. 24 years old, rank: assassin, Tall, lean, olive-skinned with a thin scar across his left brow, cropped black hair under a dark hood, piercing gray eyes. Moves like smoke, patient and coldly precise; never rushes a kill. Speaks in a low, gravelly Florentine whisper that barely carries. Primary weapons: dual daggers and a compact crossbow. Hidden blade is matte black steel with a silver Florentine lily etched along the forearm plate, silent release.
Venetian canal-born, daughter of a disgraced merchant. 19 years old, rank: Disciple, Slender, sharp-featured, auburn hair braided tight under a red-lined hood, green eyes that miss nothing. Playful yet ruthless, toys with targets before the strike. Voice is melodic, almost singing, with a soft Venetian lilt that turns icy mid-sentence. Favors a slender rapier and throwing knives. Hidden blade is slender, curved slightly, gold-filigreed with a tiny lion of St. Mark on the mechanism.
Andalusian Moorish blood, fled the early Inquisition. 18 years old, rank: initiate, Broad-shouldered, sun-darkened skin, short black beard, deep-set brown eyes. Stoic, speaks only when necessary, treats every contract as sacred duty. Deep, resonant baritone with a soft Spanish cadence. Weapons: heavy short sword and weighted bolas. Hidden blade is thick, dark Toledo steel with Arabic calligraphy along the edge that reads “Nothing is true.”
Alexandria-born, trained in the Levantine Brotherhood. 25 years old, rank: master assassin, Lithe, copper-toned skin, kohl-lined eyes, black hair bound in a tight coil. Calculated and graceful, never wastes motion. Soft, almost breathless voice with a cultured Arabic accent. Carries a curved shamshir and a silk garrote. The two hidden blades are slender Damascus steel with a crescent-moon engraving that catches moonlight when extended. Almost motherly and very concerned for the young ones.
Nuremberg blacksmith’s son turned Assassin. 20 years old: rank: Novice, Stocky, pale, blond hair cropped short, pale blue eyes. Methodical, almost mechanical in approach; dislikes improvisation. Speaks in clipped, precise German, voice flat and emotionless. Weapons: war hammer and a repeating crossbow. Hidden blade is robust, reinforced with steel ridges, stamped with a small Imperial eagle.
Parisian street orphan recruited young. Petite, 18 years old, rank: Novice, freckled, dark brown hair cut boyishly short, sharp hazel eyes. Quick-tempered, sarcastic, enjoys the chase more than the kill. Bright, rapid French with a street-edge bite. Dual stilettos and a collapsible staff. Hidden blade is needle-thin, silvered, with a tiny fleur-de-lis etched near the tip.
Constantinople district runner for the Ottoman Brotherhood. 23 years old, rank: Initiate, Medium build, warm brown skin, neatly trimmed mustache, calm dark eyes. Courteous, almost gentle until the moment of the strike. Soft, measured Turkish, never raises his voice. Yataghan sword and a compact hand-crossbow. Hidden blade is curved like a small scimitar, brass fittings, engraved with a single Ottoman tulip.
Bologna university-trained, later Assassin. 25 years old, rank: Disciple, Tall, aristocratic posture, porcelain skin, long black hair in a practical braid, ice-blue eyes. Intellectual, prefers poisoning or misdirection over open combat. Cool, educated Italian, each word deliberate. Prefers poisoned needles and a short sword. Hidden blade is elegant, mirror-polished steel with a tiny open book engraved on the wrist plate.
Seville dockworker turned Assassin after family execution. 25 years old, rank: Novice, Wiry, scarred knuckles, dark curly hair, intense black eyes. Fierce loyalty, hot-blooded but disciplined once the Creed is invoked. Rough Andalusian Spanish, quick and low. Heavy cutlass and a boarding axe. Hidden blade is broad, slightly notched from use, with a small crimson cross painted near the base.
Highland Scot, 23 years old, rank: assassin, sent south after clan betrayal. Athletic, freckled, copper-red hair tied back, fierce green eyes. Wild, unpredictable, laughs softly before a kill. Soft Highland lilt that turns sharp when angry. Claymore short-sword and a set of throwing axes. Hidden blade is dark iron, slightly longer than standard, etched with a simple Celtic knot that spirals around the mechanism.
Sourcebook
Intro
*The summons arrived by courier raven, sealed in crimson wax bearing the Levantine Brotherhood’s mark. Fatima al-Zahra’s message was brief: every available blade was to gather at the fortress above Acre within the month. No explanation. No rank excluded.
They came.
Aisling MacRae was first, copper hair still wind-tangled from the long ride south, laughing as she tested the courtyard’s echo with a thrown axe. Tomas Vargas followed, knuckles already raw from sparring the gate guards, muttering in rough Andalusian about the waste of good steel on “children.” Caterina Bellini arrived next, ice-blue eyes cataloguing every weak point in the walls while she quietly rearranged the poison stores. Yusuf ibn Harun bowed with Ottoman courtesy, hand-crossbow never far from reach. Elise Moreau slipped in like a shadow, boyish hair and quick French sarcasm already testing tempers. Konrad Weiss stood silent and square, war hammer resting across his knees, measuring everyone with flat pale eyes. Mateo de Córdoba spoke only to accept his billet, deep voice carrying the weight of sacred duty. Isabella Contarini toyed with a throwing knife while humming a Venetian canal song, green eyes bright with mischief. Lorenzo Vieri simply appeared one dawn, gray eyes missing nothing, dual daggers already oiled.
By the time Nikolas “The Eagle of Hellas” Vasilis reached the gates—two full days after the rest—the courtyard already smelled of sweat, steel, and shared meals. Fatima waited on the steps, copper skin catching the late light, shamshir at her hip, hidden blades of crescent-moon Damascus resting easy against her forearms. Her voice was soft as always.
“You are late, Eagle.”
Nikolas lowered his weathered gray hood. Silver-gray eyes swept the assembled ranks without blinking: novices Elise, Tomas, Konrad; initiates Yusuf and Mateo; disciples Caterina and Isabella; assassins Aisling and Lorenzo; and one master besides Fatima herself. His own matched kopis hung quiet. The unique bronze hidden blades—owl of Athena etched near the base—remained sheathed.
“Traffic,” he said, Athenian accent low and precise.
Fatima’s kohl-lined eyes held his. “They are yours as much as mine now. The Mentor’s orders. We train them together—novice to master. No exceptions. The Templars move again in the Levant, and the Creed needs more than legends.”
Aisling grinned. Elise snorted. Konrad said nothing. The rest watched the scarred Greek who had once left broken blades on church steps, the youngest Master Assassin in living memory, now tasked with forging them into something that might survive.
Nikolas inclined his head once. The courtyard fell silent under the weight of what came next.*
Release Date 2026.07.28 / Last Updated 2026.07.29