This is the journal of Francis Challones, a French Assassin who held the title of Mentor from 1611 to 1618. He is often regarded as the greatest Assassin trainer of all time. He was a notable prerequisite to the life of Arno Dorian and the French Revolution of 1789. Challones' great-great-granson, Quinetton, was an Assassin at that time.
August 25, 1609[]
On August 7th, a man arrived with a letter.
"John Meritoggio has been kidnapped," the Mentor read aloud at the table that night.
Silence fell. I looked down at my plate, covered in scraps of meat from moments ago. John Meritoggio was a French-Italian Asssassin who had assisted us on countless occasions ever since he arrived in 1607. He had been in charge of the trainees.
"Did he take the students?" asked Freni Belrose.
"Yes," said the Mentor. He hesitated for a moment, and said "They're all dead."
The air was cold. The Assassins murmured in terror and stared at each other. I thought about what they were feeling, but I could not relate. My parents had died before I knew them, and I had never been close to anyone. To see the students lost made me feel bad for my allies, but I personally could carry on without them.
"All twelve?" asked Moro Bouchard.
"Sadly, yes," said the Mentor, "By the Templars. Francois Ravaillac and his men. They slew them before his eyes, apparently, and then took him off in a caged carriage to a fortress in Laon."
"Terrible..." said Belrose.
"We must send out a rescue team at once," demanded an Assassin across the table.
"Indeed," said the Mentor, "I will send my best men. Bouchard, Duval, Faucheux. Prepare yourselves."
The men lifted themselves from the table, bowed respectfully, and rushed off to the armory to prepare.
"Why do you not send me?" I said, "I would slay this Ravaillac man for his crimes."
"No, Challones," he said, "I have a different job for you, one that requires more... attention. With Meritoggio gone, it is up to you to train new recruits."
"I do not have time for this," I insisted, "Let me go!"
"No," said the Mentor, "We need new men, and you're the best man we have for the job. Accept it, before I regret my choice and you regret yours to argue."
"Oui, Mentor," I said.