My first Assassin's Creed fanfic, and it's been in my head for awhile. Please leave a review, because reviews = Happy writer. Happy writer = fast updates. It's a proven fact.
Malik scribbled down his assessment of Altair's performance as the younger assassin dozed in the next room. It had taken a while for the Brotherhood to get back on its feet after the betrayal of Al Mualim, but, finally, a new Master had been chosen. While Altair wasn't particularly fond of him, Malik was confident he'd do a fine job.
"You know, Altair," Malik called. "Perhaps it's time for you to retire."
"Shut up," the younger assassin drawled sleepily.
"You're blade's getting a bit dull, it seems. This took a great deal of time, compared to past assassinations. Maybe you're getting too old for this."
"I'm not even thirty. Now shut up and write, Stubby." Altair snapped, and Malik laughed as he imagined Altair's furiously embarrassed face. For a few minutes, the only sound was Malik's pen scratching on the paper. Then Malik spoke up again.
"You should, you know." There was the sound of rustling from the other room, and Altair appeared in the doorway, obviously exhausted and peeved.
"I should what, Malik?" He asked, obviously near the point of attempted homicide.
"Retire," the older assassin said lightly. "You've been lucky so far, but you're getting tired. Old wounds are catching up to you. You should retire. Find a nice girl. Settle down."
"I should say the same for you." Altair snapped. Malik smiled a bit sadly, and gestured towards his missing arm.
"What woman would-?"
"Go for a warrior? I can think of several." Altair said shortly, blushing furiously. Malik chuckled, imagining what he was thinking og.
"I'm hardly a warrior. A man who stays behind while his friend does the deeds is no warrior."
"You dispense valuable information. I wouldn't know where to go if you weren't here!" Altair insisted. Malik laughed.
"Oh, you'd figure it out. All I do is listen through windows."
"Eavesdropping," Altair said sagely. "Is a valuable skill." Malik laughed.
"Spare me. Oh, and the master wishes to speak with you. Return to Masyaf." Altair's expression clouded over.
"Oh… Him." He snarled. "I don't want to." Malik looked at him, grinning. "And I can tell you don't care, because you're pink with barely controlled glee." Altair said snidely. Malik laughed.
"He's not that bad. He's certainly not as bad as Al Mualim."
"Al Mualim tried to take over the Holy Land, and possibly the world, by taking over our minds and turning us into zombies," Altair said. "That's hardly something to compare to."
"True," Malik relented. "But he's not that bad. Give him a chance." Altair looked skeptical. "Seriously, Altair. He seems like a good man." Altair sighed.
"As long as he doesn't join the Templars, I suppose," he growled. "Fine. Farewell, Malik." Altair left the room before Malik could say anything in response, scaling the fountain and leaving.
"Be safe," Malik muttered as he turned back to his maps.
--
Altair crept out of Jerusalem and returned to his horse, who was waiting patiently outside the gates, chewing on hay. When she saw him, she scampered over to him and nuzzled him happily.
"Yes, yes. I need to get to Masyaf, so let's get moving." He said, petting her nose fondly before heaving up onto her back. As they passed by the guards, some glared suspiciously at him and moved their hands to their swords as they passed.
"You know, Kali, Malik said that I should retire," the assassin told the horse. "He says I'm getting a bit dull. That I should find a girl and start a family…" He sighed. "And I actually think he's right." The horse whinnied almost indignantly. "Yes, I know it sounds a bit silly, coming from me. But… he mentioned something about old wounds. And he was right." Altair sighed. "The wounds from Robert de Sable, from Maria, from Al Mualim… They always sting or ache. They've never stopped troubling me. Even now, a year later…" He sighed again, heavier this time. "Maybe I could get a desk job, like Malik…" He shrugged. "Maybe. After this one last thing."
--
Altair rode into Masyaf as the sun was setting, and the place looked somehow more ominous than usual. He dismounted Kali and (after turning around to find her following him several times and telling her to "Stay!") went to the library, where the new Master sat at the desk, looking at papers and reports.
In all fairness, there was no reason for Altair to hate the man. He was nice enough, and wise. He was from a different Brotherhood Hub, and hailed from Iraq. He was older than Altair, older than Malik, but certainly younger than the late Al Mualim. Middle-aged, with a salt-and-pepper stubble and close-cropped hair, he looked up at Altair as he approached, and smile a bit tiredly.
"Hello, Altair. Good to see you," he said affably.
"You requested to see me?" Altair asked, standing before the man.
"I did." He got up and walked over to one of the shelves, pulling out a scroll. "We received word from one of our informants that a high ranking Templar is currently residing in Jerusalem."
"Impossible," Altair protested. "I was just there. Malik mentioned no such thing."
"I only just got this message, Altair."
"Then why did you call me here. That can't be it, if you just got it." The master shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"In comparison to this, it's unimportant. And if I told you, it could distract you from this, and you'll need all your attention." Altair sensed something more.
"I've done enough to be trusted enough to know this!" He protested. "Tell me!" The master's eyes narrowed and Altair realized that his tone probably overstepped.
"Tell me, Altair," the master asked. "Do you have a problem with all authority figures, or is it just me who gets this lovable side of you?" Altair blinked, and saw a glint of mischief and amusement in the master's eye.
"I apologize," he said. "Please. Tell me what you need."
"You recall the woman called Adha? The Chalice?" Altair looked up sharply.
"Of course," he said breathlessly.
"She has been found. A ship carrying her and your target arrived in Acre, and they then proceeded to Jerusalem. That is where they reside." He smirked at Altair. "And that is where you will go."
After doing some research, I've come to the conclusion that Adha has no personality, so I'm just gonna wing it when she shows up, unless you have any objections.