In The Eyes of a Noble: An Assassin's Creed Revolution Novel

April 13, 1882

I.

Weeks had passed since I arrived in Manila. There's been no day when I miss my sister, especially my mother. My father had several connections around here; that's why I'm currently pursuing my studies at an institution overseen by the Spanish Jesuit order, located in Intramuros, to be specific. My father's associate manages this institution.

It's just the same as my old routine: go there, go here, study there, study here—an endless cycle of boredom. I feel like a puppet being pulled by strings. I barely had time to sneak out during classes and write through my journals, but, fortunately, I made an ally, Carlos, his family, of course a member of the templar order. I think the whole city was ruled by templars. (No, I haven't told him about my visions and the possible corruption within the doctrine yet; it might compromise my loyalty and result in my family's banishment within the order if this information reaches the grandmaster coming from foreign sources. No, this concern must come from me.)

We always sneak around the campus, running away from our monstrous, full of rage, Padre Delos Santos. He's strict, and with every lesson, he always finds a way to hate on the Indios. "Those Indios! If not for our arrival, they would still be worshiping pagan gods!" Padre asserted in Spanish and in a harsh manner.

The air in our classroom is thick with tension. The harsh words hang heavy, creating a stifling and oppressive environment. Some of the students, well, those pure-blood Spanish, nodded eagerly, agreeing with what just Padre stated, while Carlos, he's pure Filipino, clenched his fist. Perhaps I can see a spark of rebellion in his eyes.

"Hoy, Carlos," I whispered loudly.

"What is it?" He said in a reciprocal manner.

"Padre is speaking nonsense again, is he?"

"Yeah, this puta fucking spouts bad egg tales, listening to him is a pain in the neck." Carlos whispered aggressively, like he was about to throw hands.

"Let's just sneak out of his class before he blabbers more nonsense." I suggested.

"Yeah, we better leave; I'm done with him being racist, even though he is also a templar master."

While Padre Delos Santos was busy blabbering hateful wags about the Indios, I grabbed my leather satchel and slowly edged my way towards the exit to escape his class. Carlos and I exchanged glances and nodded to signal that I was ready to walk out.

As I was sneaking out of class, I suddenly found my path blocked by the foot of one of my classmates, Angeles. He's one of those annoying classmates who always interferes with our plans. If I could put it straight, he's my academic rival.

"Where do you think you're going?" He said in Spanish.

"I—We—Uh," I stuttered.

Shortly after, Padre noticed us.

"What turmoil is happening back there?" in Spanish.

"OH–uh—It's nothing!" I answered.

Carlos was staring at me, waiting for my signal to flee.

"I think they're trying to sneak-out of your class, padre." Angeles accused.

"And what do you think you're doing, Senor Lo?"

"Uhhh, running!" I fled swiftly even before any shout could come out of the padre's mouth.

Carlos and I ran outside the classroom; even though it wasn't a successful sneak, at least we somehow succeeded in escaping his wrath personality and dull lectures.