"Laa shay'a waqui'n moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine."

These are the words spoken by our ancestors - that lay at the heart of our creed.

Where other men blindly follow the truth, remember...

Nothing is true.

Where other men are limited by mortality or law, remember...

Everything is permitted.

We work in the dark to serve the light.

We are Assassins.

Nothing is true, everything is permitted...

The Creed

Barrett McMillan

Chapter 1

Everything that's happened in my life has been leading to this moment. I thought as I effortlessly leaped from the crumbled wall of the Colosseum, landing between the pompous Stefano Belichi and the three Templars that stood opposite of him. One held in his grasp my Master's treasure.

My brothers leaving, I spun to face Stefano and drew a throwing knife from my belt, nearly taking glee as he stumbled to run away. I lightly threw the knife, letting it slice through the air, then into his skull.

My parents dying, I drew two more knives and once more let them glide into two of the three Templars, leaving the center one.

All of my training, The Templar thief turned to run, but my fourth knife sliced a major tendon in his leg, impeding all movement. He collapsed, screaming out in pain, but no one could hear him. We were alone.

"It has come to this, Jacob." I muttered as I quietly approached the writhing man. He was dressed as the others: white tunic, a red cross on his chest and a broadsword at his side. His helmet was now beside him, most likely so he could breathe easier, to show the massive scar that went from the top of his forehead to the tip of his chin; the scar that was left by my Master.

I continued towards him, digging the tips of my gauntlet into the stone wall as I did. This was it. Vengeance was finally within my reach.

"I remember the day I killed your Master, boy. You were so shocked when you watched him fall." He hissed as he attempted to drag himself away.

"Silence, murderer. Your time has come. If your God does exist, you had best hope he is a forgiving one."

The man's face went pale as I drew my metallic claws from the stone and put them to his throat.

"Do you really believe killing me will bring him back?"

"No," I replied as I pulled my hand back "But his spirit will be at rest."

For the first time in my life, a Templar showed a glint of fear in his eye as I drew back my claws. He knew it was his time; he simply didn't want to accept it.

Everything... has led to this...



"Stop! Thief!"

Those words had become so monotonous to me I could nearly completely drown them out. I bolted up a low rising wall and clambered over it, trying hard not to drop the loaf of bread I had hidden beneath my shirt. I leapt from rooftop to rooftop with ease, keeping well away from the guards and easily outrunning them. The archers, though, were a problem.

Within moments, arrows were whizzing past my head, digging into the stone roof I ran on now. They were getting better, but after a few moments, they stopped.

Far less persistent. I thought as I effortlessly dropped to the ground. I smiled and drew the loaf of bread from my shirt, raising it into the air almost as though it was a trophy. It would be in the eyes of my sister.

It had been about four years since our parents were killed by the Templars. I was six and it mortified me. I couldn't imagine how Amber felt. She was only three years old.

I quickly forced down the memory of our burning home and with it the emotion it brought. Instead, I looked to the brighter parts of our life: we were together, we were mostly self sustaining and the guards never come looking for thieves in the slums. They must be smarter than they look; thinking that would be the most obvious place they'd hide, so why look there?

Finally, I came to our shack. Amber and I moved in when the previous tenants were "called to order" by the Templars. It was run down, gaping holes lined the walls and even the roof, and the front door had been destroyed so we used a hunk of torn fabric but it was home to us.

"Amber! I got some food!" I yelled as I entered the shack. The inside was as torn and ratted as outside. Dirt and dust covered the floors, a large hole in the ceiling led into the upper levels and, since the staircase had also collapsed, a ladder was put up so Amber and I could get up and down without hurting ourselves.

Amber was my little sister. She had my mother's brown eyes and my father's black hair, but the shine in both died along with our parents. Only two months after, she became ill and nearly died. Had my brothers not moved with such haste, she could have easily died, but they rushed to the local doctor here in Acre and bought his services for a brief time.

The doctor cured Amber, but he told my brothers that she would need constant care, attention, and a general medicine to stay healthy. Unfortunately, the medicine was too expensive.

I sighed as I climbed the ladder into our joined bedroom. As usual, Amber sat next to the hole in the wall we so readily called a window, staring out towards the rich district. I sighed once more as I approached her, holding out the bread.

"Why can we not live there, Abdul?" She asked, unmoving.

"That's where the guards are. Besides, this is our home. You know that."

Amber shrugged and turned to face me. Her long hair was ratted and tangled, her dress dirty and torn. She was a mess. But then again, so was I. Neither of us could leave the house for a decent wash in the river, Amber because she could barely move at all and me because the guards would try to kill me on sight.

I handed her the loaf of bread and kissed her on the cheek before standing up and going into the next room, which we used as a bathroom. A small, stagnant bucket sat in the far corner, a chunk of mirror was set upon the wall beside it and the hole in the roof kept the stench from the bucket from spreading too far into our home. This also worked very well as a shower and clothes wash when it rained, but during the summer rain was as scarce around here as the average shekel.

I looked into the mirror to see my own reflection, my father's bright blue eyes glistening and my head shaven bare. The clothes I wore were as ratted and torn as my sister's, but at least I had shoes in case the roofs were littered. The simple white shirt was too dirtied to even see the original colour and my baggy tan pants only reached to my knees, leaving my thin calves open to the intense Israeli sun.

If only Da'ud and Fakhri were still alive... I stood in front of the mirror in silence as my mind drifted back to the day my two older brothers, the twins Da'ud and Fakhri, left to join the Templars in their Crusade. They were told my sisters and I would be safe if they converted. They did. For us, they lost their lives, but their sacrifice was for neigh.

The Crusaders started here, in Acre, slaughtering everyone who stood in their way. I was eight when the Templars came to our home. They'd been in control of Acre for over two years, but they found my brothers suited for their conquest. They told them that no harm would come to my older sister, Hiyam, Amber and I. They kept to their word until the true Crusades began. My brothers were killed by Muslim soldiers while they tried to take Jerusalem. After that, the Templars did not protect us, and Hiyam was taken by slave traders. They saw my sister was sick, and saw me as just another mouth to feed, so they left us to fend for ourselves.

In three months, the Crusaders had taken the cities of Damascus, Jerusalem and Acre. In three months, our family shrivelled from five to two. What in another three months? Would I be alone? Would I be taken by the guards? Have my hands cut off?

I couldn't think like that. I shook out the thoughts and looked forward. Tomorrow my sister needed her medicine. That meant an operation much bigger than just stealing a loaf of bread. I needed to get that medicine from the doctor's purse, which he had around his waist at all times. That also meant I needed to rest and be awake enough to complete the task, hopefully this time without alerting the guards.

I returned to the bedroom and watched as the great sun fell into the ground, lighting the sky with many beautiful colours. It was amazing such beauty could be seen in such harsh times. But just like time, the sun was gone in the blink of an eye. I looked over at Amber, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Do you think mother and father are up there watching us?" She muttered. I smiled and placed my hand on her shoulder, muttering in reply:

"I know they are."


The day was slow; watching as people approached the doctor, obtained their goods, then left. Back home Amber was nearly coughing up blood. I could barely stand it, but I had to. I needed to be patient otherwise my cover would be blown, or worse. I memorized his movements, keying in on his multiple pouches; how he opened it, what he grabbed and from what side. The general medicine was in the left hand pouch, directly over the back of his right hip.

The sun began to set, the crowds of people diminished and soon, the doctor was alone. I stood upon a nearby roof, watching as the man counted his coins then spun on his heel and began to trek down the street. I swiftly followed, making sure to keep hidden should the man turn around, but always watching.

The man finally came to a narrow alley. It was time. I climbed from the roof and silently approached the man, keeping as low as I could as I reached out. I drew in a sharp, silent breath, and then reached into the pouch. It was rather small, but it still had a few vials left in it. In one smooth motion, I caught a bottle by the neck and gently pulled it from its case.

The moment the glass was outside of the pouch, I hid it inside my vest and bolted down the nearest alley. I had it. The medicine. Amber would be okay, just like I promised her.

I quickly turned a corner, only to run headlong into something that resembled a padded wall. I stared up into the blank faceplate of a Templar Knight.

Templars occupied Acre a few years after I was born. Since then, Acre had been getting lots of traders, but locals were losing trades and money. They were evicted by the new occupants and thrown into the streets and those who broke the law had to answer to the Knights.

"What's your rush, little one?" He chuckled as he grabbed the collar of my torn shirt "Got something you shouldn't?"

The man violently shook me like a ragdoll until the vial fell from my vest, letting out a loud crack as it hit the ground. The Templar dropped me and grabbed the vial, still intact but scuffed on the side.

"Now, how did you afford this?"

I hesitated for a moment, but jumped to my feet and forced tears from my eyes:

"I couldn't, sir. But please, my sister is very ill. She needs this medicine otherwise she'll die!"

The man chuckled as he slipped the medicine into his pouch, and then slowly drew his sword.

"You know what we do to thieves around here, boy?"

I saw my reflection in his polished sword, my face was pale and my eyes wide with fear. I could only watch as the man heaved the great blade into the air, preparing to bring it down on me. I shut my eyes, hoping this was a dream. But it was strange. The hulking man had not yet killed me.

I opened my eyes and stared in awe at the Templar that lay before me, a hooded man dressed in white kneeled down on top of his back with his left hand on the back of his helmet. The man slowly stood up, pulling his hand away to reveal a small, blood covered knife that lay where his fourth finger should have been.

He was covered in weapons: throwing knives, sword and dagger. But the strange knife intrigued him. For some reason, the knife withdrew, seemingly into his clenched fist. I watched as he stepped off the Templar's body and reached into his pouch, removing the medicine that he had taken from me, and then handed it to me.

My eyes grew wide as the man smiled, his eyes hidden by the hood, and then he dashed off, sprinting up the side of a wall and onto the roof. I could only stare as he hopped effortlessly to the next ledge then out of my sights.

I smiled a teeth baring grin for the first time in months. I quickly slipped the vial back under my vest and climbed up to the roof next to me as swiftly as I could, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man again, but he was gone. My smile did not fade, even when I got home and gave Amber her medicine.

"What's wrong, Abdul?" She whispered as I carried her to the bedroom

"Oh, nothing's wrong, Amber. Something is very right." I gently lay her down on the hay, whispering into her ear:

"I met an Assassin."