The excitement made him twitch. It trickled through his veins and made the tips of his fingers tingle. Heavy boots tapped on the stone path rapidly as he bounced, unable to keep still. The young man craned his neck to see above the sea of townsfolk, hoping to see their familiar silhouettes. Nothing. Just shrouded women and bearded men.
He sighed and sat on the low wall, his feet still tapping mindlessly. Restless, his hands moved to the small knives at his belt. He pawed at them carefully; making sure each one was there and checking that they were still in peak condition. Of course they were. He had spent all last night sharpening and polishing them just for this occasion. For this mission.
For today he was going on a mission with Altair.
It had been excruciating to hold in his excitement when Al Mualim had told him that he would accompany his elder brother and his idol. He simply stood still, arms behinds his back, his face blank is shock. He had never thought it would happen. That he – Kadar Al-Sayf – would be on a mission with two of the brotherhood's finest assassins. It was unthinkable. And yet, there he was, being ordered to wait by the city gate for their arrival.
It would be a simple mission – get in, get the treasure, get out. Do not bother with the Templars unless absolutely necessary. Yet he prayed it would be. The journeyman longed to see Altair in action, to fight alongside him as his equal and to show his brother he was just as capable as he was. Kadar could picture the look on their faces when he bested foes stronger than him. When he fought just as well as them. The thought made him giddy. A wide grin spread across his face, earning him a concerned glance from one of the guards at the gate.
He didn't care. He was going on a mission with Altair.
At last he could see their figures burst through the clouds of people, tall, white and powerful. Altair sauntered forward with his head held high and proud. Malik slinked behind, his posture irritated. No doubt they had argued again. Their movements were equally sleek and silent. Nothing out of the ordinary. Kadar stood to meet them, attempting to wipe his smile from his face.
"Brothers," he greeted, low and steady. Calm. Well, as close to calm as he could manage.
Altair ignored him, heading directly for the horses outside the gate without as much as a glance in his direction. Malik groaned, muttering under his breath and stopped in front of his younger sibling. His face was downturned, anxious, apologetic. Kadar expected as much. The over-protective elder brother would probably have it that Kadar was never trained and remained a simple, ignorant citizen. Kadar placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, smiling encouragingly. He was ready. He was always ready. This was his moment to prove it. The smile was infectious and turned the corners of Malik's lips upwards, just enough for Kadar to see. The elder inclined his head towards the gate.
"We best leave before Altair decides to do the mission without us," Malik stated, trying to keep his bitterness in check.
Kadar nodded. Following his brother out, he secured his grey hood. Perhaps after this mission it could become white. Perhaps he could finally start on the road to becoming a master assassin himself. He could prove himself with success , the others would recommend him and Al Mualim would decide.
Excitement was still ringing in Kadar's ears as they rode towards Jerusalem. It heightened his senses. Filled him with a feeling of invincibility. He could not fail. Nothing could go wrong. The mission would go well, as it always does.
And then he would be Altair's equal.