Filius Aquilam
The Son of the Eagle
By Thy Creator
Prologue
A lot of people ask who I am. I reply with the simplest answer in witch my god could bestow upon my tongue, "I am the son of the Eagle." Now to outsiders and travelers this may not make sense at all but to those select few in the creed, that seven letter phrase means a lot. My father was an assassin, just like I am training to be here at Masyaf. My mother however was an English woman, born in England and raised as a Templar. The sworn enemies of the assassins. So many people have asked how this unlikely pair of fate and reality meets in the oddest of stories. But that story is for another time and right now I will share the story of my life, beginning the son of the eagle, or the son of Altair.
I was the third child of my mother and father. Born in Masyaf and raised ever since then to be an assassin. I know little of life outside of being an assassin than what my mentors and teachers tell me. My brothers say that life outside of Masyaf is fun and amazing, but I always thought they were just trying to make me jealous. My mother Maria always stayed at the castle, she rarely went out and she loved all her children all the same. My father however was never at the castle. I had heard many stories about him from my mother and friends but find them hard to believe. My favorite one if the story of how he met my mother. My brothers Darim and Sef thought this foolish and how I was always going to be for romance and never going to be a good assassin. But I rarely listened to them; I knew I would be the greatest assassin someday.
My father never really liked me. He always seemed to like Darim and Sef much more. But I think this was because I was last born, and that means I'm the runt. Darim and Sef always stayed close to my father when he was at Masyaf, however when he wasn't my brothers and I would often train together or try to get into trouble. But when my father returned he would punish Darim and Sef by sending them to their rooms. But for me, well…no words can describe the pain that he delivered to me when I was punished. My mother hated this too, but never talked about it directly to him. She knew her place in the family and that place was to care for the children. Not to talk back to a father on how to treat his sons.
By the age of fifteen I had begun novice training and was assigned my older brother Sef as my mentor. Sef had already reached the rank of Assassin while Darim was already well beyond Master Assassin and was next in line after my father for leader of the order. Sef was a great mentor to me and would never treat me bad. Although the late hours and early morning did take a toll on me, I always showed up to fight to the last heartbeat. I was determined to be like me brothers and to never let down my father and mother.
At the age of twenty I reached the rank of assassin and was given my hidden blade in exchange for my ring finger during the initiation. But that's when it happened. The council and order fell apart. It all began with the leaving of my mother, father, and my brother Darim. Sef and I stayed behind in Masyaf. But in the absence of my father, Abbas, a traitor in my eyes took power and corrupted the minds of the assassins in the order. My brother Sef and my father's old friend, a rafiq from Jerusalem name Malik tried to stop him but failed after Abbas' loyalists forced Malik into jail in the dungeon and killed my brother Sef.
I was able to escape, to become free of those who would rather see me dead. I was able to fully understand the ways of the real world, and to plan the one thing I desired most…revenge.
My name is Asad Ibn-La'Ahad, and this is my story
End of Prologue
Chapter 1 / Ending a Long Lost Tale
Asad waited. His coarse robes soaked from the constant downpour of rain at it thundered the ground. The timing had to be perfect and nothing was going to distract him from this. The convoy should be here any minute now, he quietly thought to himself keeping his eyes on the road for any sign of a wagon or horse. Still nothing came.
Asad started to doubt himself in that he had missed the convoy. But just as Asad started to turn around, he heard it. The sound of large wooden wheels sloshing through the wet mud that people once called a road. Asad froze at this to clarify the sound he was hearing before taking his place hidden in a nearby dried out shrub. He checked his traps again to make sure they were set just as the convoy came into view.
His eyes became slits as he narrowed his vision on the single mark that had ruined his life. The same red cross that the soldiers wore to fight his father, the Templars. He let out a low growl and scanned the convoy. Two horseback riders and one wagon, along with 5 or so Templar knights. "Well this will be fun," he quietly murmured to himself before grabbing the stake that held the traps in place.
He allowed the two horseback riders to cross the trip wire before pulling on the stake. As soon as he did the wire shot up and caught the horses pulling the wagon by their legs. The first
one fell down easily and the second followed. Not soon after did Asad leap out of the bush tackling one horseback knight to the ground ending his life with his hidden blade to the throat. The second drew his sword when he saw Asad but was too slow. By the time his sword was out a knife had already punctured his chest throwing him of his horse. Asad rested for a moment before drawing three more throwing knifes out and throwing them into the crowd of foot soldiers. The throwing knifes killed two instantly and one of them hit the third knight in the shoulder exposing his entire side. Asad took this opportunity to leap and enter his blade into the injured knight's throat.
Asad was barely able to stand before two swords came whirling down at him from the two remaining knights. He was able to dodge the first one but felt the second slice his shoulder open. He quickly jumped away putting some place between him and the remaining knights. He felt as if his shoulder was on fire and quickly grabbed it with his free hand. He could start to feel the crimson red liquid soak into his hand. Asad didn't bother looking to his shoulder; he had to finish of these two remaining knights. Quickly thinking Asad grabbed at his other shoulder only to realize he was out of throwing knifes, "Shit…" he sneered at himself for not packing extras.
Asad then drew his sword out; he would have to make one last stand if he had any chance of winning. The Templar knights seemed to snicker at him before attacking with full force. The knights quickly overpowered him with him not being able to use one of his arms. Asad could feel his head feeling light only to realize that he was now half lying down in a pool of his blood. That was his mistake.
The Templars took advantage of him looking at the pool of blood to start viciously start beating the assassin with the hilts of their blades before Asad's vision started to go blurry. He could feel unconsciousness overcoming him before looking straight done. In the reflection of his pool of blood he saw the final blow come and hit him in the head. After that the world went black.