The moon was bright and silver against the ebon sky. Its light illuminated the slumbering city below, quiet and tired from the sweltering heat. A few citizens wandered aimlessly through Jerusalem's shadowy streets, either too poor or too ignorant to find their homes. One unfortunate pauper was caught by a cold, mailed fist; his weak protests and muttered pleas were quickly silenced by a Templar's blade. The man slid to the dusty ground and the Templar grinned, relishing the crimson color in the lunar rays. Injustices such as this were repeated several times before midnight finally broke.
Altair sat upon a high tower, grimacing at the bloodshed below. Every death brought him closer to action, closer to abandoning the mission. But somehow, he restrained himself, always imagining those Knights dead. A wispy cloud covered the vivid moon and threw the city into obscure darkness. Altair moved swiftly under the cover of darkness, vaulting from one roof top to another. The cloud moved again and suddenly the city was covered in light again. Altair stood tall and defiant on a low building, and was rapidly discovered by a group of patrolling Knights.
"Have to kill them if they see me…" Altair whispered darkly to himself, "I should be more careful." The three Templars unsheathed their weapons as the captain bawled battle orders. They circled close to Altair and slashed at him clumsily. Altair almost laughed as he skillfully disarmed one Knight and impaled another with his own weapon. The two fell to the ground and the captain stumbled backwards, painfully aware that he had caught not a helpless dove, but instead an angry hawk. Altair leapt into the air and curled his fists. The captain screamed vainly as Altair descended; the scream was short-lived as Altair's blade slid effortlessly into the man throat. Altair stood tall again and observed the bloody scene around him. He shrugged coldly at the deaths,
"They chose their fates. I am but the messenger." Altair turned and was about to leap to another rooftop when a shaking voice caused him to hesitate.
"Stop! Don't move!" the voice said. Altair glanced over his shoulder and saw a single trembling archer kneeling on a neighboring roof. He was dressed in traditional Templar armor and a full helm hid his face from view, similarly as Altair's hood shielded his.
"Another easy kill…" Altair thought silently to himself. With a single fluid movement, Altair drew a single throwing knife from a pouch and threw it dexterously toward the archer. The Templar flinched, but quickly drew an arrow and shot it. Altair was not only surprised to see his knife knocked aside, but amused as the arrow continued through the air and lodged itself where his head had been just moments before. The Knight readied another arrow but did not shoot.
"I told you not to move," the Knight said again, "and next time, I won't miss." Altair grinned,
"So kill me already," Altair said dangerously, "Murder me like you murdered those innocent people!" The Knight looked taken aback.
"I'm not the murderer here! Look around you!" he gestured toward the bodies that surrounded Altair, "You've killed three good men here!" Altair barked a short, bitter laugh,
"Good men? Is that what you call men who kill and bully the unfortunate and desperate?" Altair asked angrily. The young Templar narrowed his eyes,
"What do you mean? The Templars serve justice and righteousness…" but Altair interrupted him with another cruel laugh.
"Your precious Knights carved up five defenseless citizens tonight. What is just or right about that?" The Knight shook his head in disbelief, but his tightened grip on his bow betrayed his uncertainty. The Knight did not have time to answer as several more Templars filed into the street below. Altair raised his eyebrows,
"So… are you going to shoot me or not?" The Knight looked at Altair, then at the dead Templars, and finally into the streets or Jerusalem.
"No… he said finally, "No. I am not a murderer," he said again, "I don't know what is right, but killing you here and now would be wrong." Altair frowned. 'A Knight with a conscious?' he thought to himself, 'Now I've seen everything…'
"You're letting me go?" Altair asked incredulously. The young Knight nodded.
"Go now, before they see us talking." Altair took a few steps but stopped as an arrow nearly pierced his left foot.
"Before you go, I want to know your name," The Knight said.
"Why would I tell my enemy my name? Wouldn't that make it easier to kill for you to track me down and kill me?" The Knight considered this for a moment and jumped as the knights below began to climb the ladders that led to where the Knight was standing.
"Uh, here how's this: I'll give you my name and you'll give me yours." Altair gaped at the statement but the Knight did not give him to time to reject the offer.
"My name," the Knight said hurriedly, "is Thomas." Altair sighed with exasperation,
"I don't… but… fine, they call me Altair," he said quietly. Thomas nodded, but did not say anything; the other Templars had finally scaled the ladders and were standing around him, screaming for him to shoot. Thomas let fly a single arrow that fell far short of Altair and apologized to his superior,
"I'm so sorry, I couldn't get him, he was just too far away…" Thomas said loudly to the other Knights. Altair smiled as Thomas's voice faded behind him. 'That kid was for real,' he thought as he leapt from the roofs. He landed softly and looked up to silvery sky. Another desert cloud drifted over the moon and Altair's expression hardened.
"Time to get to work," he said as the city succumbed to darkness. Without so much as a single glance behind him, the young assassin sprinted into the depths of the city to complete his assigned task.
Later that night and into the early morning, a restless Thomas lay twisting and turning in his bunk.
"Altair… hmm…" he repeated the name countless times, but the thought would not leave him, "I wonder what he looked like…" Thomas sighed for the thousandth time and questioned his decision of allowing the man to live.
"I hope he wasn't telling the truth…" he said eventually, as the dawn rose bloody and red, "for my sake, at least. I joined the Knights to protect people, not to hurt them. But… I don't want any of the Templars to die, either. Some of them are decent people… some of them…" he buried his face into his pillow, "Altair… you have confused me. Will we meet again, I wonder?"
Altair sat upon the city's walls and watched the moon descend. He stared at his hands for a long time, wondering if the scarlet stains would ever wash off.
"They deserve this," he said, trying to convince himself, "they deserve nothing less than death. They all deserve this," but a nagging feeling at the edge of his mind rejected the death and retribution. Suddenly, he thought of the young archer, the Knight who refused to kill.
"Thomas…" Altair whispered pensively, "Do you deserve this judgment as well? Have you sinned enough to warrant death?" Altair looked at the sin on his own hands and thought of his punishment, "Do I truly possess the power to deliver such judgment…?" The Assassin's Creed argued that he did, but Altair was suddenly unsure.
"You have complicated this, Thomas. It was easier to kill a heartless enemy," Altair clasped his hands and smiled, "I wonder… will I meet you again?"