A message was sent to a secret order of killers. They have hidden in the shadows for centuries, never revealing themselves. The townsfolk praised them, criminals envied them, crooked noblemen feared them. The Assassins had left their mark on Italy, but were far from done. As long as the selfish and greedy remained in power, the Assassins would continue to work their ways. This particular assassin had traveled from Florence, following the nobleman who allowed such bloodshed. The man had eluded the killer for several weeks, before finally lowering his guard for a brief moment. But a moment was all Alexander needed. With a quick flick of his wrists, his knives had flown through the air and connected with his target. It was a clean job, and the pay would be worth it. Before the guards had arrived, the assassin had climbed to the roof of the brothel and jumped from building to building, easily avoiding any possible threats. He climbed down the back of a series of homes, now a good half a mile away from the commotion.
He looked to be an ordinary man, nothing more. Just a merchant of some kind. But that was the point. Alexander ditched the disguise, slipping back into his normal attire. A pair of loose fitting black pants with a fitted shirt. Underneath was a chainmail shirt that shielded him from any blade, for a few seconds at least. The scar that had remained on his arm for so long was wrapped in a red cloth, hiding it from the rest of the world. A second red cloth, his scarf, was fastened around his neck. Alexander fastened his belt, making sure he had plenty of knives. A short sword rested on his back in a custom sheath. Pulling the scarf over his lower face, the assassin turned into the street and walked among the people as if he were one of them. He had completed his first task, and now was to meet with another assassin. Together, they would start a second task, one much more difficult then any he'd previously done. But the challenge would be entertaining for him, and Alexander looked forward to it.