Divine Science: Chapter 4 – Frater V.O.V.

Chapter 4 of the Divine Science pack from the Facebook game, Assassin's Creed: Project Legacy.

Memory Details

Subject: Frater V.O.V.

Location: London, England

Time Period: 1891-1901

In-Game Introduction Video

Video Summary: The DDS will synchronize with the memories of an aged man. You may feel you have less energy, poor hearing and eye sight and even experience wobbly legs. This is normal, if you feel pain in your left arm however, please stop and consult your physician.

The Victorian era is characterized by growth, prosperity, political reform and major technological and scientific progress. Interest in the occult also increased during this period. You are about to infiltrate the Hermetic order of the golden dawn.

Magna est Veritas

Through the confines of the System, I have relived these memories countless times, not unlike a certain weatherman and a famous groundhog.

Finem Respice

Finem Respice.

Although the events that unfold here are no longer in my control — for they have come to pass — I am free to color them as I like.

• Thousands of people, from all casts and all parts of the world, have seen, or will soon see, the tales I have to tell.
• This, however, is not here and now. For the moment, let's step back into the past and look at the events that led to that grizzly graveyard scene.
• I tend to the plants in my green house, trying to ignore the ache in my back, when I hear footsteps behind me. Slowly, I turn to face young Gustav Meyrink.
• I patiently listen to Meyrink's ideas, nodding absently while I water my Papaver rhoeas. He wants me to act as an editor of sorts. I mumble, and he seems satisfied.
• Meyrink's most famous work — which he has not yet written — will be "DerGolem," a book with a unique tale on the Golem of Prague. Well... you and I were just there, weren't we?
• Meyrink leaves the greenhouse, but an uninvited guest is about to enter — this one with grim purport.

Vota Vita Mea

Vota Vita Mea.

Right on time, the assassin arrives. No, he is not of THAT Order. He is a highly skilled, independent assassin, sent by one of the other co-founders of MY Order.

• I hear a sound in the distance, but attribute it to Meyrink leaving. The assassin is a professional. He will not reveal his presence.
• I put the watering can beside a cluster of poinsettias, which reminds me that Christmas is at our doorstep — like my killer, so to speak.
• I briefly wonder who of my two colleagues, of my two oldest and dearest friends, the assassin works for. It could be either of them; perhaps even both.
• They both have good reasons to be rid of me, but they have very different motives. One wants me dead; the other has a much more sinister idea.
• The assassin is right behind me. I feel his presence, though he has not made a sound. I close my eyes and take one last breath, for I see no reason to resist him.
• Besides, how could I? I'm just an old man stuck in a broken body. The poison spreads quickly through my veins. Gladly, I welcome it.

Lux E Tenebris

The gaslight lanterns they carry illuminate the coffin around which they have gathered—MY coffin.

Orare

Orare

The sky is clear, the moon bright, the wind howling, but all I hear is their guttural dirge. I recognize the ritual, for I helped develop it.

• It feels strange being here, looking down at my own grave. Somehow, it's like being trapped in a horror novel, but without the adrenaline rush.
• Don't get me wrong, I knew it would come to this, but somehow I thought I'd feel different about it. I'm impassive, detached, in a dream like state.
• They do not suspect I am here, standing among them. But Mathers, the Evoker of Spirits, knows. He does not show it, though. He simply goes on with the ritual.
• I am fortunate. After all, it is not everyday that one gets a chance to see his own funeral. It gives me anopportunity to observe them — with a slightly different perspective.
• The Evoker, my old friend, finally utters the words that complete the ritual. I am satisfied with the ceremony. It was well performed — though completely useless.
• My former colleagues and subordinates leave the cemetery. Only Moina, Mathers' wife, remains. She pulls off her hood, turns her head, and looks straight at me.

Semper Fidelis

Semper Fidelis.

Moina's blue eyes seem to penetrate the very depths of my soul. I should not be surprised; after all,she is known as "the Seeress." I would smile, but cannot.

• As though sensing my desire, Moina smiles at me. I try to read her thoughts, but she will not reveal anything to me. Not now; perhaps not ever.
• Moina's compassion and determination —and perhaps the raven hair framing her lovely face — remind me of Maria. Dear,dear Maria! How I have missed you!
• Without breaking eye contact, the Seeress salutes me, as she would salute a peer. It is true what they say: behind every great man is a great woman.
• I watch her leave. Her slender body, cast in gaslight, is eventually swallowed by the night. I turn my gaze toward my grave and read the epithet on the tomb stone.
• You may wonder why I let the assassin strike, why I did not even attempt to stop him. If you do, then you have no idea how it is to be trapped in a broken shell.
• The real reason, however, isn't old age. It's friendship — although at the time I didn't know for which of two friends I was doing it. I remain faithful.

Vincit Omnia Veritas

Let me explain how it all began. You see, both of them were right. Or, I should say, both of them had good reasons to want to get rid of me.

Sapere Aude

Sapere Aude.

Let us go back a few months — a few months BEFORE my funeral. But first, remember Giovanni? Remember the book he sought with Maria in Paris?

• Remember the other book? The one Giovanni stole from Bombastus' laboratory; the one in which the formula to turn base metal into gold materialized before his very eyes.
• Well, as you know, Giovanni had only one part of the now rather famous "Book of Abraham." Unfortunately for him, he never found the original "Divine Science" part.
• This is where it gets interesting. Many years later,toward the end of the nineteenth century, these ancient tomes resurfaced.
• I won't bore you with a detailed history of these books. They changed hands so many times you'd only get confused, if not bored to death.
• Besides, who would want to know? Well, actually, I'm sure THEY would. But, as you may have guessed, I don't work for them.
• Back to our story. Somehow, the complete, original volumes containing Abraham's knowledge found their way into the hands of my good friend, Samuel Liddell Mathers.

Quod Scis Nescis

Quod Scis Nescis.

I sit in the inner sanctum, a tome of THE BOOK upon my lap. I look at my reflection in the silvery sheen of its cover.

• Mathers is at his desk, lost in the first part of this priceless artifact. I am distracted by the scratching sounds of Mathers' fountain pen as he diligently translates the volume.
• I open the book, silently cursing my rheumatism. Old age has never agreed with me. Absently, I glance at the ancient words, symbols, and numbers.
• The third member of our little triumvirate enters the room. "You cannot do this, Samuel!" I raise my head and see West cott's face, grim under his thick beard.
• Mathers meets West cott's gaze. "This translation is for us. These secrets, these ancient formulas, they shall remain ours, and ours alone."
• "Then why are you planning to publish it?" West cott slams his fist on the desk, sending papers to the floor. "Yes, I know about your little scheme."
• I sigh. Even Giovanni understood. A copy — or worse, a translation — is absolutely useless. If only they knew the truth.

Cogito Ergo Sum

What was once a perfect partnership, what we once defined as "Harmony", is now about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

• He knows what I am. Mathers, the Evoker of Spirits, my old friend, has seen beyond the corporeal. He has already warned Westcott about me,despite the tensions between them.
• They are arguing now, for they do not know what to do with me. They both agree on one thing, at least: I need to disappear.
• Their drive is fuelled by ambition,of course,but mostly it is fear that motivates them — though they would never admit it.
• Westcott says they have no further need of me. I have to admit, I am not as active in the daily affairs of the Order as I used to.
• Westcott believes I have given them everything they could possibly want.He thinks they cannot learn anything more from me.
• The Evoker, however, believes otherwise. Yet he succumbs to Westcott's request. They will send an assassin after me. And, as you know, I will gladly welcome him.

Semper Paratus

Semper Paratus.

You have already witnessed the events that led to my demise, so let's move forward now, some five years after that fateful day.

• Despite my passing, no one was appointed to replace me in our triad. Mathers and Westcott rule alone — but they do not rule as one.
• The Evoker — he goes by the title of Imperator now — has played his hand well. For five years, he has kept the truth hidden from Westcott.
• Westcott, the Praemonstrator, does not have the gift the Mathers — both of them — possess, but he is no fool. He knows he has been played.
• "I know about... HIM!" Westcott spits out the last word. I suppose I should be offended. "You have gone too far this time, IMPERATOR!"
• Until now, only Mathers, his wife Moina, and Berridge, a trusted adept from the Inner Order, were in the know. "This is the last straw!"
• Westcott leaves the sanctum. The Imperator looks through me, the left side of his mouth curved in an eerie grin. He has been expecting this.

Ut Prosim

Ut Prosim.

The Praemonstrator plots a coup, to kick Mathersout of the Order. Alas, he is too late. In this game, the Imperator is several moves ahead of him.

• Edmund William Berridge is one of the few acolytes that Mathers implicitly trusts. I am not surprised to see the Imperator turn to him in this moment of crisis.
• I follow Berridge, a man always eager to serve, through the streets of London. He enters a hansom cab. I sit beside him, but of course he cannot see me.
• After a few blocks, Berridge gets out of the cab, leaving papers behind — papers which reveal Westcott's interest in black, ritualistic magic. How delightfully wicked!
• The papers fall in the hands of the authorities. Westcott cannot hope to keep his position as Crown Coroner while suspected of being a magician. He has no choice. He leaves the Order.
• The Imperator is now in complete control. I am with him, in the private sanctum the three of us used to share, and stare at the wide grin upon his face.
• The Imperator's mirth turns to gloom, then to fury. THE BOOK is gone! I could tell you what happened to it, but that is another story. For now, let's continue to explore this one.

Perdurabo

The Imperator plays a dangerous game. He does not realize it yet, but his position is precarious. He rules like a king, but his subjects will soon revolt.