System in Assassin's Creed Chapter 56 55: Glastonbury Tor

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A minute and thirty seconds had passed since Alaric activated his Swift Release, and he arrived at the edge of a large settlent.

It wasn't quite a city, but it was far larger than a village, filled with activity.

Alaric ca to an abrupt stop, landing gracefully on a tree branch. His sudden halt caused the trees behind him to rustle violently, leaves swirling in the air as if a gust of wind had swept through.

'I think this is Glastonbury...' Alaric thought, scanning the area. 'I've basically traveled forty kiloters south...'

He dropped down from the branch, landing softly on the grassy terrain.

The settlent before him wasn't as densely populated as Bristol, but it was still impressive.

Alaric estimated there were at least a thousand people living here, their hos and shops spread across the landscape.

Deciding to observe the area for a while, Alaric began walking toward the settlent by the road.

As he strolled, he sensed a carriage approaching from behind, coming from the direction opposite the settlent.

Alaric slowed his pace, curious about who might be traveling here.

'Co to think of it... why didn't I attach a Hiraishin tag on mine and Reuben's carriage?' He shook his head, deciding not to dwell on it.

The carriage soon caught up to him. It was modest, pulled by two sturdy horses, with a coachman at the reins. Alaric could sense three people inside the carriage.

As it drew closer, the coachman called out, "Excuse , young man... I'm passing through!"

Alaric stepped aside, slightly confused. The road was wide enough for two carriages to pass, but he decided not to make a scene.

He glanced at the carriage as it passed by, catching a glimpse of a married couple and a young woman inside.

"Stop!" a voice called out from within the carriage.

The coachman turned his head, peering inside, while Alaric also looked toward the source of the voice.

"Young man!" the man inside the carriage called out, leaning slightly out of the window.

Alaric raised a brow. "Yes?"

The man, who appeared to be in his forties, had a chubby yet well-grood appearance. His face was round, with a neatly trimd beard and a ruddy complexion. He wore a finely tailored coat with gold buttons, and a white cravat peeked out from beneath his collar. His hat was tilted at a slight angle, giving him an air of casual elegance.

"I am Desmond Monroe," the man introduced himself with a warm smile. "I see that you don't have a vehicle... would you like to board with us?"

Alaric was slightly taken aback, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

Before he could respond, Desmond continued, "Glastonbury is near, anyway. It would be a sha to enter the town walking!"

Alaric blinked, thinking, 'It's a sha to visit the town while walking? Does he have no sense of reality, or is he just a snob?'

Outwardly, he simply nodded and replied, "If you wouldn't mind... I would appreciate it."

"Of course!" Desmond said cheerfully, gesturing for Alaric to climb aboard.

Alaric nodded again and walked toward the carriage. He stepped inside, taking a seat across from Desmond, his wife, and their daughter. The interior of the carriage was cozy, with plush cushions and a small table in the center.

Desmond bead at him. "What's your na, friend?"

Alaric glanced at the other occupants.

Desmond's wife was a kind-looking woman with soft features, wearing a dress made of fine silk that was clearly imported from the East.

Their daughter, a young woman in her early twenties, had similar features to her mother but with a sharper, more lively expression. Her dress was equally elegant, with intricate embroidery along the sleeves.

"I go by Alaric," he replied, offering a polite smile.

Desmond gestured to the won beside him. "This is my wife, Alia Monroe, and my daughter, Charlotte Monroe."

Alaric nodded to each of them. "Pleasure to et you."

Alia smiled warmly. "The pleasure is ours, dear. Where are you from?"

Alaric leaned back slightly, keeping his tone casual. "I was born in Swansea. My family and I moved to Bristol fourteen years ago, back in 1608."

Charlotte's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Bristol? That's quite a journey! You must have seen a lot of the world."

Alaric chuckled softly. "You wouldn't say that."

"Oh, I apologize..." Desmond tilted his head, studying Alaric. "You know, we thought you might be a noble of so kind. You have the bearing of one."

Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Alia nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, dear. Your clothes are so clean and expensive-looking. And you're so tall! You carry yourself like a lord."

Charlotte chid in, her tone teasing but friendly. "And your face... it's so smooth. I'm almost envious!"

Alaric shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a sheepish smile on his face. "I, uh... thank you."

Internally, he groaned. 'Why did I board this carriage...'

The conversation continued, with the Monroes sharing stories about their travels and asking Alaric more about his life. He deflected most of their questions with vague answers, smiling politely but keeping his thoughts to himself.

As the carriage rolled toward Glastonbury, Alaric couldn't help but wonder if he'd made the right decision by accepting the ride.

Still, he figured it was better than walking into town alone... especially when a tall and handso man like him that could be mistaken as a noble were to be seen walking alone from the long road.

'Would people think of it as weird if a man of my stature were to walk alone?' Alaric thought as he glanced at the window as the carriage entered Glastonbury. 'Nah... people would naturally look at due to my height... even Reuben's taller than the average man during this period...'

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The carriage ca to a smooth halt, the coachman's voice cutting through the chatter inside. "We've arrived, Sire Monroe."

Desmond Monroe smiled broadly, gesturing toward the door. "Well then, shall we?"

The group began to file out of the carriage. Desmond stepped down first, offering his hand to Alia, who accepted it with a gracious smile.

Charlotte followed, adjusting her dress as she landed lightly on the cobblestone street. Alaric exited last.

"Thank you for the ride," Alaric said, nodding to Desmond and his family. "I appreciate it."

Desmond waved a hand dismissively. "Not a problem at all, young man. It's always a pleasure to share a journey with soone as interesting as yourself."

Alia smiled warmly. "Take care, dear. Do approach us if you ever see us anywhere."

Charlotte added with a playful smirk, "And don't forget to keep that face of yours smooth. I'm still envious, you know."

Alaric chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll do my best. Thanks again. I'll be on my way now."

Desmond clapped him on the shoulder. "Before you go, we should have a al together soti. What do you say?"

Alaric nodded. "Let's do that."

With a final wave, he turned and walked away, blending into the bustling crowd of Glastonbury.

The Monroes watched him go for a mont before turning their attention to their own agenda.

---

Alaric road through the town, taking in the sights and sounds of the marketplace.

The air was filled with the scent of fresh bread, roasted ats, and spices from distant lands.

Vendors called out to passersby, their stalls overflowing with goods, jars of honey, bolts of colorful fabric, and freshly picked fruits.

Alaric moved through the crowd with ease with his sharp eyes scanning the area for anything of interest.

He passed by a blacksmith's forge while the clangs of hamr on tal resonated through the street.

Further down, he spotted a group of children playing near a fountain, then another set of people doing their own thing.

Eventually, he found himself at the edge of town, where a path led up to a prominent hill.

At its peak stood the remnants of St. Michael's Tower, a solitary structure over the landscape.

"Glastonbury Tor..." Alaric murmured to himself, gazing up at the hill. "Or should I say... Avalon."

He began his ascent, the grass crunching softly beneath his boots. (I'm guessing that the tor doesn't have a proper pathway during this ti yet?)

As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that sothing was off. The air seed thicker here, and the faint hum of energy prickled at the edges of his senses.

It wasn't overwhelming, but it was enough to make him uneasy.

'Foresight Pulse!' he casted, sending out a pulse of chakra to map the area.

The energy rippled outward, scanning Glastonbury and its surroundings. Yet, to his surprise, there was nothing unusual... no hidden traps, no strange energy signatures. Everything was normal.

But Alaric could feel it.

Sothing was wrong.

The sense of disorientation grew stronger as he approached the tower.

His mind raced, recalling what he knew about this place. In the AC ga, this hill had been an island, the legendary sanctuary of the "Won of the Mist."

'Ac Valhalla would've occured almost a thousand years ago...'

If there was ever a place where Excalibur could be hidden, it was here.

He reached the base of the tower with his senses on high alert. The air around him seed to hum with a faint, almost imperceptible vibration.

The silence was deafening, yet he could feel the presence of sothing, or soone... watching him.

Alaric closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

When he opened them again, his Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan whirled to life, the patterns spinning lazily in his crimson irises.

He scanned the area, his vision cutting through the veil of reality to see what lay beneath.

And then he smirked.

"I know you're there..." he said aloud, his voice was calm but laced with amusent.

For a mont, there was only silence.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Then, as if responding to his challenge, a voice echoed in the air... soft, ethereal, and seemingly coming from nowhere.

"Who are you?"

Alaric chuckled, his smirk widening. "Your wors—" He caught himself, clearing his throat. "I an, I'm Alaric."

The voice paused, as if considering his response. Then, it spoke again, its tone tinged with curiosity, and perhaps a hint of warning.

"And what brings you here... Alaric?"

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