System in Assassin's Creed

[Current Balance: 1,494,706,244R]

---

[System Currency Updated]

[Real Converted To Scudo Currency...]

[Conversion Fee: 18R]

[- 18R]

[1,494,706,226 R = 149,470,624 scudi, 40 baiocchi]

[Current Balance: 149,470,624 scudi, 40 baiocchi]

(1 Real = 10 Baiocchi & 100 Baiocchi = 1 Scudo)

(1 scudo = 10 reales)

(1 British pound = 3 scudi and 20 baiocchi.)

---

The busy port of Civitavecchia, the gateway to Rome, was filled with activity.

The galleon, secured alongside the quay with the two captured frigates flanking it like prizes of war, was busy with motion.

Crewmen worked across the decks, making repairs and sorting through the vast amounts of salvaged goods under the watchful eye of their officers.

On the dockside, passengers who had reached their destination streamed down the gangplank, eager to set foot on Italian soil after the eventful voyage.

Merchants shouted, porters jostled, and Roman officials observed the proceedings.

Alaric and Reuben emerged from the hatch leading below the deck. Reuben juggled an armful of books, some newly acquired in Barcelona, others salvaged from their near-destruction during the fight with Flavia.

They navigated the busy deck, stepping around coils of rope and busy sailors, heading towards Captain Oldgate.

The giant captain stood near the helm, overseeing the complex operation of unloading cargo, managing repairs, and preparing for his next voyage. He spotted the two approaching and a wide grin split his face.

"This is the last stop, boys," Oldgate announced, his voice carrying easily over the noise of the port. "End of the line for your passage."

"It's been... eventful, Captain." Alaric smiled and nodded. He leaned against the railing. "Where's your next route?"

Oldgate hooked his thumbs into his wide belt. "Ah, my usual run. Head north to the Principality of Monaco, then swing back 'round past Barceno, down the coast of Portugal, then up to London to offload the fine goods. My route's just the same, pays the bills."

Both Oldgate and Reuben looked at Alaric, who had adopted a thoughtful pose, tapping a finger against his chin. After a moment, Alaric asked, "When will you arrive back here? In Rome?"

Oldgate squinted at the sky, calculating. "Hmm, with good winds and fair seas... three to four months, give or take. Why?"

Alaric muttered, mostly to himself, "That's too long..."

Oldgate raised a brow. "Too long for what? You planning to sail somewhere else already?"

Alaric nodded, glancing briefly at Reuben, who looked curious, then back at the captain. "After we've seen what we need to see here, we plan to head north to Florence. I don't know 'bout Reuben," he added, ignoring the look Reuben shot him, "but after that, I plan to go further south. Towards the Ottoman Empire."

"What do you mean, you don't know 'bout me?" Reuben interjected, frowning.

Alaric threw a knowing look at Reuben, silently referencing Flavia, before turning back to Oldgate. "Greece... y'know that place, Captain?"

Oldgate stayed silent for a moment, stroking his beard. "Aye... Greece. Sailed there a few times. Why? You plan on going there?"

Alaric nodded again. "Yes. Santorini, specifically..."

Oldgate frowned in thought. "Santo... rini? Can't say I know that name. Been through the Greek isles, mind you, but..."

Alaric scratched his head. "Maybe you know it by another name? Thera? Kallisti? Strongili?"

Recognition dawned in Oldgate's eyes. "Ah! Thera! Aye, I know Thera! Passed by that island a couple o' times. Big volcano in the middle, eh?"

"That's the one," Alaric confirmed with a nod. "Yeah... say... do you really need to set sail right away, Captain? You've got repairs, salvaged goods to sort..."

Oldgate grunted, gesturing around the busy ship. "'Course I need to set sail soon! Schedule to keep, cargo contracts, mouths to feed back home!"

Alaric smiled slyly. "How 'bout I hire your service, then? Make it worth your while to adjust that schedule."

Oldgate paused, looking Alaric up and down. "Hire my service? Lad, are you that rich?"

Reuben scoffed beside them. "Rich? Heh... Captain, is there any word that's higher than rich?"

Oldgate raised a thick eyebrow at Reuben's comment, then looked back at Alaric, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. He folded his massive arms.

"You've that much money, aye?"

Alaric simply smiled and shrugged, feigning innocence. "So... how much? Proposition is this: Stay here in port for another day or two while we handle our business. Then, sail us north to Livorno Harbor, near Florence. Wait for me there for a few days, then we sail south, all the way to Thera."

Oldgate paused, genuinely considering it. He looked at his ship, battered but seaworthy, then at the two captured frigates laden with potential profit, then at his crew working diligently. He stroked his beard again.

"Hmm... a custom route like that... delays... risks..." He looked back at Alaric, a speculative glint in his eye. "Alright, lad. Gimme five thousand pounds sterling, and I'll even sail you to Nassau afterward if you fancy!" He burst into his characteristic booming laugh.

Alaric laughed along with him, while Reuben just shook his head silently at the situation. Alaric extended his hand. "Deal."

Oldgate's laughter cut off abruptly. He stared at Alaric's outstretched hand, then back at his face, eyes wide. "Wait, that... that was a jest, lad! The Nassau part, anyway! Even that amount of money... surely you don't want-"

Alaric smiled, shaking his head slightly but keeping his hand extended. "I agree with the five thousand pounds, Captain. Not Nassau."

Oldgate was momentarily silent, staring at Alaric as if seeing him for the first time all over again. Then, the surprise melted away, replaced by another loud laugh. "GURARARARA! Easy five thousand! Done!"

He grabbed Alaric's hand in his massive paw, giving it a powerful shake. "I was prepared to haggle, lad, but you've got yourself a ship!"

---

Alaric sat at a heavy wooden table inside the Albergo dell'Orso, one of Rome's finer inns, known for its long history and distinguished clientele.

Before him was a plate bearing the remains of roasted lark, a local delicacy Flavia had insisted they try. The taste was rich, gamey, quite unlike anything he'd eaten before.

His gaze drifted across the common room to where Flavia was currently spoon-feeding a deeply embarrassed Reuben.

Alaric stared emotionlessly at the scene for a moment, then looked down at his own plate.

'Thulani... now Reuben...' he thought, poking listlessly at the bird carcass. 'What the hell? When do I get to meet a wonderful and beautiful woman? Even Edward's ahead of me by one year...' "...the fuck?"

Reuben heard it and turned slightly, his cheeks flushed. "Flavia, really," he protested quietly, "I can eat on my own."

Flavia merely gave him a stern look that made him flinch slightly.

"Nonsense," she replied smoothly, already scooping another small portion onto the spoon. "Think of it as practice. So that when you inevitably get sick from reading too many dusty old books, I shall know how to take proper care of you."

Reuben opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again, seemingly defeated. He sighed and accepted the bite Flavia offered.

Alaric couldn't help but chuckle, drawing their attention.

"Reuben," he began, a wide grin spreading across his face, "did you know what Captain Oldgate told me when he saw you fighting on that frigate?"

Reuben sensed danger immediately and pointedly focused on chewing his food, refusing to meet Alaric's eye.

"He said," Alaric continued, leaning forward conspiratorially, "'That boy's a demon!'"

Reuben shot Alaric a sharp glare, knowing exactly what the blonde was implying. The contrast between the "demon" on the battlefield and the man being spoon-fed now.

Flavia, however, seemed to take the comment at face value, though a slight smile played on her lips.

"I saw parts of both your battles from the galleon's deck," she commented, turning her attention briefly to Alaric. "I must admit, I was very surprised to see an Englishman and Welsh fight so... effectively."

Alaric used his knife to meticulously cut another piece of lark meat. "And I'm surprised you speak such perfect English, Flavia."

She gave him a cool look. "I have traveled... here and there."

Alaric nodded, accepting the vague answer.

"Alaric and I," Reuben chimed in, perhaps eager to change the subject from his current predicament, "we've been training together since we were young. That was fourteen years ago now. I'd be surprised if we still sucked at it after all this time."

Flavia chuckled softly, turning back to Reuben with a warm expression. "You look cute when you're trying to be modest."

Reuben's eyes dulled slightly as he shot Alaric another look, this one pleading.

"Alright, alright," Alaric said, pushing his chair back and standing up. "Get a room, you two." He smiled. "I'm off to have a smoke."

Flavia and Reuben watched him go before returning to their meal, a comfortable silence falling between them now.

Alaric approached the stout innkeeper standing behind the polished counter. "Buonasera," Alaric said in perfect Italian. "I would like to rent two rooms, per favore."

The innkeeper looked up, nodding politely. "Ciao... two rooms just for you, signore?"

Alaric sighed inwardly but kept his expression neutral. "Obviously no," he replied, gesturing subtly with his head towards the table where Reuben and Flavia were still eating. "One for me, and one for them."

The innkeeper's eyes followed Alaric's gesture, and a look of understanding dawned on his face. He nodded sagely. "Ah, capisco. Then, it is twenty scudi for the two rooms for the night."

(Capisco is "I understand")

"Bene," Alaric nodded. He casually reached into his coat pocket, pretending to fumble for coins while mentally accessing the System. 'Is this country just that expensive or is this Innkeeper trying to scam me?'

He withdrew the exact amount, which materialized discreetly in his palm. He placed the coins on the counter.

[- 20 scudi]

[Current Balance: 149,470,604 scudi, 40 baiocchi]

The innkeeper counted them quickly. "Perfetto. Per favore, wait a moment, I will prepare the keys and the rooms for you."

"Grazie," Alaric replied. "I'm going out to smoke for a bit. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"I will have your room ready by the time you're back, Signore," the innkeeper nodded respectfully.

Alaric headed out the main door of the Albergo dell'Orso, stepping into the cool Roman night.

He automatically tapped his pockets, searching for his usual cigarette case, only to find them empty. He sighed.

'Right, ran out.' Then a thought struck him. 'Wait... didn't Asuma Sarutobi always smoke in the Naruto world?'

He opened the System interface mentally, navigating to the [Buy] section.

'Cigarette,' he thought.

A list popped up, surprisingly long.

[Sunakemuri - A case of cigarettes made in Sunagakure - 50 baiocchi.]

[Kumokemuri - A case of cigarettes made in Kumogakure - 50 baiocchi]

[Mizukemuri -... ]

'Did the Naruto world really have that many cigarette brands?' Alaric scrolled mentally, slightly amused. He kept scrolling past various fictional brands until something else caught his eye.

[Premium Cigar - A pack of ten cigars known for their rich taste, aromatic smell, and expensive price - 1 scudo]

'Cigars, aye?' Alaric considered it. 'Might as well try something different.' He mentally pressed the buy button.

[Premium Cigar (1x)- 1 scudo]

[Current Balance: 149,470,603 scudi, 40 baiocchi]

A sleek, black pack materialized silently in his hand.

He opened it, revealing ten perfectly rolled cigars nestled inside, looking quite luxurious and emitting a pleasant, earthy aroma.

He selected one and placed it between his lips. He then brought his index finger up to the tip of the cigar. A tiny, controlled flame sparked at his fingertip, lighting the end perfectly. He drew in the smoke, letting it fill his mouth.

The taste was surprisingly rich and smooth, much more complex than the cigarettes he usually smoked. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night air.

"Not bad at all," he murmured, genuinely impressed by the quality. He leaned against the ancient stone wall of the inn, enjoying the moment of peace.

His gaze drifted down the street, where he saw Captain Oldgate and a contingent of his crew spilling out of a nearby, less reputable-looking tavern.

They were loud, laughing, and clearly several drinks in, but seemed to be keeping their boisterousness relatively contained, mindful perhaps of being in the heart of Rome.

Alaric took another drag from the cigar.

'Well... he WAS a pirate... or maybe anyone who sails the seas for long enough ends up like that?' He shook his head slightly, a new thought forming.

'This is nice... relaxing. Maybe there's a market for high-quality cigars back in Bristol... a new business venture, perhaps?' He smiled faintly, enjoying the cigar and the relative quiet of the Roman night.

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