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

ENTRIES FROM LO QINGSEN'S NOTEBOOK

April 29, 1882

I.

It was a rainy morning, unusual for the summer season. From within the lecture hall, the gentle pitter-patter of rain could be heard, creating a soothing white noise that enveloped the space between lectures. As our teacher, Padre Delos Santos, droned on, spewing his usual vitriol, I found myself transfixed by the rainfall cascading down the windowpane, two seats away from me. My mind wandered, questioning the path of the Templars. Was this the truth we fought for? Were they ready to hear the truth once I spoke it? Who could I confide my visions to? Who was Aita? What did my visions mean? Was God real? 

I felt sweat trickling down my forehead, and my hands trembled slightly.

"Senyor Qingsen!"

I jerked my head up as Padre Delos Santos called my name.

"It seems the rain has captured your attention... Can you share with the class what the rain has taught you?" he said sarcastically.

Laughter erupted throughout the room as all eyes turned to me.

"Stand up from your seat."

I rose, my expression blank, my gaze fixed on Padre.

"Well, hijo? Can't come up with an answer? Come here so I can discipline you in front of the class."

Padre gestured with his fingers, beckoning me to the front. 

I complied.

"This is the punishment for those like you, Sangley Meztiso."

With his cane in hand, he struck my back fifteen times, each blow a brutal rhythm on my screaming flesh. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the view in front of me into a tapestry of agony. I endured the pain, looking at the faces of my Insulares classmates. They all laughed, except for Carlos, perhaps because he was a pure Indio and sympathized with me, or maybe because he was my friend.

After the beating, Padre humiliated me further by pinching my ear in front of everyone. I didn't show my classmates how much it hurt, but inside, I wanted to cry.

"That's what you deserve," Padre said in his harsh voice.

I returned to my seat, feeling the lingering stares of my classmates burning into me.

II.

After the pointless class and the humiliation from Padre Delos Santos, I immediately left the institution and began walking towards my carriage to return to my dormitory. Carlos approached me suddenly.

"Hey, how are you? Are the bruises from Padre still hurting?" He examined the areas where I had been struck.

"I'm fine, don't worry," I reassured him, though if I were being honest, I still felt the sting of the wounds I received earlier.

"Are you sure? What Padre did was not right."

"There's nothing we can do about it," I replied. I could feel tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. Unable to contain myself, I broke down in front of Carlos.

"Why did I have to experience that? Aren't we nobles? I thought we wouldn't experience cruelty like that. Was it because of my tan skin? It was the first time I've ever been humiliated in front of so many people," I said in a brittle voice. Carlos put his arm around me, offering comfort.

"That's just how it is. As long as there's a hint of mixed blood in us and we're not of Spanish descent, that's how they treat us," Carlos said, his voice gravelly.