Hello~

Welcome to the next chapter of Assassin's Light! Allen had time to think, to realize a little fact, I know headcanons about the Ark and what it can do are varied, but my personal one is that he can travel space (dimensions) but not time. Meaning: he cannot go into the past or the future; and if it looks like he does, he is just in another dimension, another timeline. Within DGM, it could be a world that almost fully the same and he just lands in a different moment, but remains two different world. In the case of this story, well: it does mean the world of AC is not the world of DGM.

I'll be honest: I have yet to decide if there is a link between the two world or not, but I am leaning toward no. The fact is, the world of AC is based on technology that became so advanced it can do a lot, but is still science; while the one of DGM deal with magic and as far as we know, holy powers and dark powers. I find myself very unwilling to pretend only one of those two worlds is "right". I don't want to remove the way AC set up such technology, and I don't want to pretend magic and everything in DGM world might be just technology. The only solution so far I have seen is that both magic and technology existed; but in each world, one kind "won". That still doesn't change that it requires heavy worldbuilding, and is still hard to keep both world's uniqueness.

Besides, I do kind of like the whole idea that each world has things unique to them, and all that can happen from it. Rest assured though, while I don't think I'll connect both worlds in a similar background, I certainly plan for both world to come into contact~ Would be a shame not to do that!

Now for this chapter: Altaïr slowly wiggle out more infos out of Allen, it's really implicit all through the chapters but that's what Altaïr and Malik have been doing and will be doing; they're trying to understand as much as possible, both out of curiosity, and because they prefer knowing as much as possible; just in case. And Allen is willing to share, a big part because poor baby has been on his own for weeks, more than three months in my canonverse, and he's longing deep down to be safe and to have positive interactions.

I hope you enjoy!

Assassin's Light

Chapter 8

Altaïr watched as Allen rolled back down the sleeve, picking up the gloves he had to put them back on. He felt almost disappointed, wanting to look longer, wishing that Allen did not hide it, but he understood. This was not something to reveal lightly; which made it all the more precious that the young man decided to tell Altaïr.

The man stepped forward, reaching out to pull the hood up on Allen's hairs, earning a little smile, though it was hesitant, shy. He nodded to the young man; allowing a faint smile of his own to show, reassurance to the younger.

Allen's smile brightened a bit, and then he was chuckling as Timcanpy wiggled his way to hide somewhere at the neck. The clothes needed stashes however, but Altaïr knew he had placed them in the pile earlier, so he grabbed them, and fitted them around Allen's stomach himself. Then he took a step back, pretending not to see the way Allen was a bit wide eyed and flushed, nodding once.

"You look the part, outsiders will think you are just a new recruit." One that the Mentor seemed to have taken a liking to, he knew deep down; it might as well work for them so no one would bother Allen, for fear of the Mentor's anger.

And so, Altaïr guided Allen out, the young man walking at his side.

Silver eyes were bright with interest as they walked outside the fortress, although Allen stayed close to Altaïr. When the man addressed him though, his attention shifted to the assassin right away. It pleased Altaïr, not that he showed it.

"You mentioned… how Timcanpy was made," He started, keeping his words from betraying too much. Here was not a place that might have enemies, but some truths were better kept between the two of them; or three, with Malik. Besides, the matter of those that had rebelled before, of Abbas, was still too fresh to let his guard down. "Metal exists of course, but the other part… I thought I saw it in action, but I've been told it was just advanced."

Allen tilted his head, able to understand Altaïr spoke of magic, and not quite certain what he meant that he saw, but so far the only element that matched was the Apple. "How I came here?" At Altaïr's nod, Allen smiled, if a bit sad. "To be honest, I can't be certain. I thought about it, and… I don't think I'm from, ah, forward."

Altaïr frowned, leading them through the streets. "What do you mean?"

Allen's eyes were taking into the surroundings, but his attention redirected to Altaïr every so often, especially when he spoke. "You remember what I said about the Ark?" A nod. "Space and time are different. It is space I travelled, distance." He frowned, waiting for them to not have people around before he said more clearly, "The year might be different, but at most, your world and mine coexisted without meeting, and I moved from mine to yours. This is not my past, and I'm not from your future. I guess the closest I can think of are mirrors, my world is like the reflection, it exists but isn't here. And the Ark allowed me to pass through the mirror."

Silence fell for a bit, though not uncomfortable. They moved without stopping though, at a pace not too fast to allow time for Allen to watch Masyaf. The time of silence allowed Altaïr to wrap his mind around what Allen had explained. He couldn't quite grasp it, but he understood enough.

How fascinating, truly. What was different, what was similar? The places in itself seemed similar, but there was at least one element that might differ.

"Magic exist in your, ah, world then?" His gaze flickered to the left hand, and it occurred to him that Allen had chosen to walk at his right, keeping his left arm between them. "I'm guessing this too, might be unique to yours."

Allen smiled. "Probably. I can't say for sure, of course, but…" He shrugged. "It's hard to explain, but Crown doesn't seem to pick either side. If they are around, they are barely active." He frowned, something worried in his gaze.

Altaïr nudged his shoulder with his own, directing them toward the stable at the entrance, lips twitching as Allen's eyes brightened at the sight of the horses. He allowed the young man to approach one, staying just behind him, and watched how the animal, a stallion, seemed to get calm under the young man's scent, leaning into the gentle touch of his hands.

"These horses are beautiful." Allen murmured, chuckling as the stallion's muzzle pushed against his chest, demanding more pets.

"And they seem to like you." Altaïr commented, crossing his arms. "Is something wrong, Allen?" When the young man glanced above his shoulder, he elaborated, "You seemed… concerned, when you spoke of Crown."

Allen sighed, smiling softly as the horse let out a small sound, petting gently down its neck. "It's too soon to know if it's because the travel exhausted me, but I… I can't activate it. I can feel it, but if I try to activate, it is as if there is a block."

A hand rested on his shoulder, gripping lightly, and Allen turned toward Altaïr, worried eyes meeting calm ones.

"I promised you I would help you get back. It also means I will keep you safe. If there is a problem, we will find a solution."

Allen's frame relaxed, smile genuine and almost warm. "Thank you, Altaïr." He shook his head, looking down. "I'm more troubles that you could tell at first glance, so it means a lot you are still willing to help me."

Altaïr's fingers tightened a bit, and he pulled Allen closer, knowing no one was seeing them where they stood. His arm slipped around Allen's shoulders, the young man making a small sound as he found himself pressed against the man's side.

He glanced up, into golden amber.

"Stop it, Allen. I know you have good intentions, that you are not an enemy." His eyes seemed to flash pointedly. "The Apple is under my responsibility, and the Apple brought you here. It is my fault as much as it is my duty to fix what it did." The gold left his eyes, and this close he could not hide the softening of his gaze. "I am good at picking good men from bad ones, and I know you are a good one. That is more than enough."

And no matter how much a rational part of his mind tried to say he should be careful of growing too trusting too soon, it was minimal compared to the rest of him, to the want to protect that was stronger than the distance he put with others.

Warmth washed over Allen, both figurative and literal, he felt tempted to just stay close like this, enjoying the safety he hadn't felt in weeks. He felt almost touched, he felt like he could have cried, but he only smiled, although he felt like Altaïr could see Allen had come close to crying. The man didn't comment on it though, and when Allen finally moved back, he let him go.

"You are a good Mentor, Altaïr." Allen told him, voice soft.

Altaïr found himself tilting his head, though the little smile that formed was visible. It was dry. "If you had met me weeks ago, I am not sure you would have thought the same."

Allen breathed out a laugh. "And weeks ago, I had no idea how many things would change." His shoulders dropped, he let out a sigh. "If you weren't Mentor material before, you are now." He shrugged. "That is more than enough. And don't forget I had a devil of a master. I know what I am saying."

Altaïr could not stop the snort that escaped him. "The way you speak about him, anyone might be a better mentor."

Allen laughed in reply, free and genuine. "That-I don't think I can deny. But..." He smiled, fond and yet, sad. "He taught me well."

Altaïr hesitated, then he asked, quietly, "Is he..?"

Something pained crossed Allen's face. "I… I can't believe it. He-" He let out a shuddering sigh, and Altaïr spotted Timcanpy nuzzling his neck. "He left me a message with Tim, it felt too much like a goodbye, and that's why… That's why I can't believe he would know something might happen, and not have a plan. But facts indicated that… he was murdered."

Altaïr barely suppressed a flinch, both at the word, and the anger, almost cold and hard, that showed in Allen's eyes. "I'm sorry, Allen."

Allen offered a smile, something way too perceptive in his eyes. "Thank you."

Altaïr nodded toward the entrance, and after a last few petting to the horse, Allen and he walked back into Masyaf, through the street back to the fortress. This time, Altaïr did not press for anything, allowing a moment for Allen to gather his mind, and also to give him the occasion to really watch the village.

There was something nice in watching the young man slowly gather himself, getting interested and bright eyed, curious and yet sometimes shy as they stopped at the market. More than one glanced at Allen's way, but between the clothes and Altaïr's presence, the trick worked: most assumed he was a new recruit. There was something different, of course, but the people in Masyaf trusted the men of the fortress, and Altaïr.

They knew his presence meant that this young man was his, under his protection.

Meet him, and remember to treat him well.

They found Malik in the library desk that overlooked the main hall, which Allen realized was one of Altaïr's office, in a sense. The Mentor exchanged words with Malik, Allen tuned it out soon as he noticed the work mood, instead going to the railing, leaning against it with his arms crossed, watching the people go at their day.

How peaceful he felt here, in the middle of assassins, far from his homeworld. Was it the distance, the certainty he was away from all dangers but the one in his head? Was it because, no matter how much his stomach clenched at the idea that these men killed people, it still felt like he was within the Black Order?

Crown Clown's flared with unhappiness, making Allen's frame tense, eyes seeking what his Innocence seemed to take offence about. His eyes met the ones that had been observing, Abbas he believed his name was. The man blinked, startled, which told Allen that the man had only just gotten there, but the sensation Allen had received from Crown was one he knew well.

A warning, a faint almost-whisper of being under watch.

Abbas looked away, and walked off, tense himself. The way the stranger in these walls had located him so soon, the piercing gaze that found him, and the almost knowledge… This Allen was dangerous, unknown, and yet Altaïr seemed to trust him.

Was Altaïr planning something? Or was it Allen Walker? Abbas did not like it, what sort of Mentor was Altaïr being?

He would keep an eye on them, Altaïr might have calmed down the rebellion for now, but it did not mean all had been forgotten. They would wait for when Altaïr would proved he was not, in fact, worthy of the title.

And they might have a start with this Allen Walker issue.

"Allen?" Altaïr's voice came, simply questioning, although Malik could see the trace of concern.

The young man however was smiling when he turned, shaking his head. "I'm not really used to being looked at. Just a day ago, it was a bad thing to attract too much attention."

Malik felt his eyes narrow, a quick glance told him Altaïr felt the same. Certainly, a lot of their men would be curious, but not all might be looking with good intention. Quite a few people were going to watch for any mistake, either from Allen to blame Altaïr, or from Altaïr himself.

Allen's smile turned into a little grin. "Don't worry though, I am used to this." He walked back to them, changing the subject. "Are you two working, though? Should I..?" He waved a hand to illustrate the idea of doing something else.

Altaïr shook his head. "I mentioned to Malik what you told me, but not in detail. I thought it would sound, ah, better coming from you."

Malik, for his part, knew it had nothing to do with lack of understanding, since what Altaïr did say had been relayed well enough. He knew it was all about not taking away from Allen the control of sharing. "He told me you are from a different place that we first assumed? And then that where you are from, there's a special kind of weapon."

Allen chuckled, noticing how Malik's eyes flickering to his left arm. He stepped closer, and removed his glove. He received a look that asked for permission, and he nodded, extending a bit his hand. Malik wrapped his hand around Allen's, almost startled to feel the warmth of it.

"Crown Clown, right?" Malik asked, and to his surprise, a pulse of warmth was the first to reply.

Allen laughed lightly. "Yes; and Timcanpy." He added, tilting his head as the golem showed himself a bit, still within the hood; making Malik startle just a little bit.

"This is certainly interesting." Malik commented, letting go of Allen's hand and stepping back.

Altaïr had soon gotten close himself, to the side of Malik and Allen. "I wondered, a weapon in your body… Is it magic too?"

Allen blinked, crossing his arms in a thoughtful manner. "I… am not sure? As far as I know, Innocence is said to be God's gift to humanity to fight evil, but whether or not it's holy magic..." He shrugged. "I would say the magic we have is elemental, I've seen at least fire and earth, but there's other kind, I've seen sealing magic, summoning magic, and I know necromancy exist. Though, I guess, the Ark is special, what it can do feels like magic, but I can't say for sure if it is."

"Wait, hold on, God? Holy?" Malik looked incredulous, but deep down, he felt a weight. "Is there… Is it a known fact in your world? Is there only one religion?"

Allen breathed out a laugh, shaking his head, giving a smile that was amused, but in a sad manner. "No. Of course, those that know about Innocence takes it as proof of the Christian God. But it's not as if we truly know that much about Innocence, or how it all started."

"You don't believe in the God you are said to carry the weapon of?" Altaïr asked.

Allen sighed, lowering his head. "I believe in Crown Clown, and in what only I can do. I can believe there's certainly a lot we don't know, and that a God can exist. I can't say I feel one way or another, however."

There was something in Allen's eyes, so sad yet so… bitter, that told both older men enough. Allen had suffered, and maybe even, he had suffered from what was supposed to be the holy side. But nether felt comfortable pushing about this right now.

Malik was the first to think of something to direct the conversation elsewhere. "I do wish I could see your Crown Clown in action; but Altaïr mentioned you can't?"

Allen blinked, shook his head. "I'll have to wait a day or two before I can see if it is just exhaustion."

This made Altaïr cut in. "You feel tired? Are you unwell?"

A smile formed, while Malik coughed into his hand, hiding the smirk at how quickly the Master Assassin had switched into concerned. Allen pretended not to notice while Altaïr sent a short glare.

"No, don't worry, I am fine. It can take a few days however to fully recover all my energy if it's been drained. I'm Crown's host, so if I'm lacking energy, it affects it."

Allen knew when he said too much, Altaïr's eyes narrowed, sharp with intensity that made Allen squirm.

"Does it need your energy to be active?" Does it drain you when you fight?

Allen's cheeks flushed a bit, head ducking and lips nipped at. "Ah… Yes, it does. Not many Innocence are a part of the body, most are in fact like a sword, an external weapon. They're called Equipment Type, while Crown is called a Parasitic Type. Both can strain the body, but in the case of Parasitic, we share life energy."

Altaïr's mouth became a thin like, and it was Malik who dared to ask, "What consequences does it have? Anything we need to know?"

Allen rubbed the back of his neck, hesitant. He stopped his hand, dropping it, when Altaïr moved closer. He took one glance up, took into the crossed arms and calm but intense look, and the words came out of his mouth.

"Sleep helps, but eating is what helps the most my energy. I can be more sluggish if I don't eat the equivalent of two normal meals through the day, and I wouldn't last as long as most people if I can't eat at all." He paused, felt Altaïr's gaze still piercing him. "I… well, I can eat a lot. As long as I don't need to activate, it doesn't have to be high amount. If I don't have enough energy when I activate, or if I activate for a while and it drains the energy from food, I technically should either collapse or deactivate, but the situation is rarely one I can allow that, so… My literal life force is drained."

Altaïr's fingers dug into his arms. "Does this mean you haven't eaten as much as you should earlier?" Before Allen could reply, he followed up with another question, in a tone much more softer, "Does this mean your life is reduced?"

Allen still had his eyes down, it made Malik's chest heavy, and while Altaïr showed nothing, that was precisely why Malik knew it affected the man.

"Like I said, as long as I don't need to activate, I ate enough. And as long as I eat enough when I know I might activate, it won't have such a direct impact. But… yes, those with Innocence like mine are said to have a shorter lifespan." A huff left him, sad, his smile dry. "I don't think I've ever heard about anyone with Innocence dying of old age, though. We're more likely to die on the battlefield, so our exact lifespan isn't on our mind."

"You really are a soldier, then." Altaïr muttered, though all three heard. "A soldier of God."

Allen looked up, a bit hesitant at first, unsure of what to expect. He seemed to see the conflict, the concern, in Altaïr's gaze, because he smiled, gentle. Yet, something fiery was in his eyes.

"It's one way of saying it, I guess. I am an Exorcist, an Accomodator for Innocence. From the moment Innocence chooses its Accomodator, you become part of the Holy War. Our enemies will find you and kill you, if the Order doesn't find you in time."

"The Order?" Malik picked, his mind almost dizzy with what they were hearing. Holy War. It sounded like what they were facing with the Crusade, or even the Templars, and yet… Not quite.

"The Black Order, a secret organization created 100 years ago and under the command of the pope-the leader of the Christian Church. They are mostly formed by scientists, people who work on what can help us Exorcists, and Finders, people who aren't Accomodator but who help us locate Innocence. In addition, we have those that handle logistics, and a medical section."

A concept crossed Altaïr's mind, as for now he ignored the part where the Order sounded similar to the Templars, in their origins and leadership. He voiced the thought. "Then, the fighters are the Exorcists, aren't they?"

Allen's smile seemed to grow even sadder. "We're the only one who can fight our enemies. But Innocence isn't quite easy to find, there is a limited number, some have already been destroyed. When I joined, we didn't even have more than twenty Exorcists." He paused, a sombre expression on his face. "At present time, counting myself, we are a dozen."

And with such low number, each lost Exorcist was a hard blow.

Malik could not stop comparing the number, and how Allen called it a war. A Holy War. A war against what, though? He was not sure he wanted to hear the answer so soon, if the weapons Exorcists used had to be holy in nature.

Altaïr seemed to think the same, because after having been silent for a few short moments, he said, "Come, let's continue this in my room, with a plate of food."

No, he had not forgotten that. And it was the easier aspect of all he had learned to deal with.

To be continued...