It had been a long time since Malik had ridden a horse. Not an easy feat with one hand, but not impossible. He knew Altair was in better condition to do so as he took Kamal riding to keep him up to skill on horseback as well as just to get away from the fortress. When that happened Malik usually had one person follow him, from a great distance. Any closer and it would have made Altair angry. Malik didn't fear Altair getting hurt when he went riding, or meeting crusaders. More he feared that Altair would find something else to do or someone to save and not come back for a while and a Mentor out of Masyaf would just make people nervous and want to go find him. Just what Malik needed, Assassins scouring the countryside looking for their Mentor who could very well be in any city from Jerusalem to the Turkish border. What a nightmare that would be.

Altair's horse was a gift from one of their clients in Tyre after killing a rival for a rich lady's had. They'd been paid by then and Malik had moved on from thinking about past jobs they sent their men on. Then a trading caravan had come to Masyaf, and with it a man with one of the finest stallion's Malik had ever seen. The man said he worked for their previous client, who was a horse breeder, this was a horse from his best stud, for Al Mualim of the mountain, as additional thanks. The horse was named after his first son, which he got after agreeing to a contract with the Assassins. Malik had been surprised by this but Altair had been excited.

Assassins did not usually have their own horses, they all used the same horses in the stables. So this was Altair's first horse that was really his. His name was Mika'il and he was not a nice creature in the slightest, foul tempered, mean, and Malik got nearly bi monthly reports of some accident in the stables because of that damn horse. He barely let anyone near him, except Altair, of course. Though it had taken Altair several months to get the horse to heed his command. There was a rumor, just like so many rumors about Altair, that now they didn't just have a demon for a Mentor, but he had a demon steed as well. The fact that Mika'il was jet black and had strangely light eyes for a horse, didn't help at all.

Malik, thankfully, had a much easier to control horse for this journey. A spirited gelding who took a firm hand to control but unlike Mika'il, Samit could be brought into control by anyone. He was also shorter than other horses, which was better for Malik to get up one handed.

The party that was traveling with them was small, Altair wouldn't tolerate a large one, it would just slow them down. Kamal was with them, as were a few of of Navid's guards who'd come up from the villages, Navid himself would join them later, he was dealing with a bandit problem at the moment. Jari, Ehan, and Christopher were being left behind to both watch over the Mentor's things and feed the cats while Kamal was gone. Bo, Colin and Jase were also amid their number. Jase didn't seem happy about the entire adventure but Bo was clearly happy to get out of the fortress. The older men had wanted to come but Altair forbade it, they would just slow them down and Altair was not in the mood for that at all. So the Greeks were mostly staying behind.

Mika'il was a fidgety thing who even with Altair on his back would pace. Altair let him pace and he was as impatient as his own horse, dressed to ride, his hood down, eyes like a hawk watching everyone as they got ready. Malik didn't bother to tell Altair to calm down, the man would not, and Malik just waited on Samit's back patiently, reigns in his lap, leaning back a bit on his high backed saddle. They were really just waiting for Colin and Altair looked ready to leave without him, as the old man wasn't here yet. A novice was holding his horse for him though and kept looking towards the fortress as if expecting him to appear.

"I expected Greeks to be more punctual than this," Altair growled after tugging Mika'il a bit closer to Samit. He turned to Jase, "Jase, where is Colin?" he demanded in Latin.

The other man looked horribly embarrassed by what was happening, knowing it was one of his father's men who was causing this delay. "I'm sorry Master, I don't know," at least he seemed sincere about it.

Altair growled wordlessly. "Kamal," Malik said to the scribe softly.

"Yes?"

"The escorts were given my instructions last night, correct?"

"Yes, sir, they were," Kamal nodded.

"Then where is Colin?"

"I can go find him?" Kamal said looking ready to get off his horse.

"No," Malik waved that off, "You," he pointed at one of the other novices waiting, "Find Colin and drag him here if you must." They nodded and bolted.

They waited in silence for only five minutes before they heard the sounds of protesting and a moment later came Colin being shoved forward by the novice. "Stop that!" Colin squawked, batting at the novice even as they shoved him to his horse. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Where have you been?" Altair demanded right back.

"I've been-

"Not here. That's where you've been. You have kept us waiting, and thus have kept me waiting. I am Al Mualim, I am the Order, are you so great that you may keep the entire Order waiting until you are ready, Colin?" Altair was furious.

"… No. I simply-

"When you ride with me you are here on my time. Is that understood Master Colin?" Altair still didn't let him speak. "I have novices who are more punctual than you and if I was in any worse I mood than I am now I'd have you beaten as one."

What? But-

"But what? You wish to act like a novice, than you shall be treated like one," Altair moved closer to the Greek, up high on his black horse, his dark robes making him like a wraith, the sun creating a halo behind him. Malik laughed to himself. Altair might not have a head for politics but he knew how to control and intimidate very well. Azrael had not done this, used fear like this, but Altair was not Azrael. Altair's best weapon was fear, not knowledge like Azrael's had been. It seemed they both knew how to use similar tactics though. Drag the ones with big heads down and shove their face in the mud, reduce them to a novice in their eyes. It always seemed to work too. "Get on your horse." Altair ordered, "And you will have no lunch today."

"I am your guest here," Colin said.

"Brothers are not guests," Altair said. "Here we are equal and not even visitors from far away get special treatment, isn't that right Bo?" he didn't even look at the China man when he spoke.

"No," Bo said and knew he couldn't say much else as Colin wouldn't understand.

"You are a Master in your land. Here you are just another of my men, just as all masters are." He turned Mika'il away from Colin sharply and started to ride him away. Malik gently kicked Samit into motion and he heard Colin scramble onto his horse as Altair started down the mountain. Malik noticed Jase wasn't looking at his father's friend, or speaking to him.

Once they'd reached the gate of Masyaf Altair kicked Mika'il into a gallop, throwing up a cloud of dust. One of Navid's men followed behind at a gallop but when Malik did not move to follow none of the others did. Let Altair get ahead, he'd wait for them. He needed some time to master himself and feel the wind under his skin.

"Well, that was exciting," Bo said to Malik, only once Altair was far ahead.

"You didn't even know what he said," Malik rolled his eyes.

"No, but it was still exciting!" Bo said. "I've only known the Grandmaster as the strong silent type, I didn't know he had so much power or darkness. Rauf told me, but I didn't believe it."

"Rauf told you?" Malik asked.

"Yes. Usually after we practice we eat dinner together. He knows the Master better than most, and certainly better than myself-"

"Me," Malik said.

"Yes, better than me," Bo nodded. "I thought he was lying, since to me of the both you are much livelier more," Bo offered. "I said that wrong didn't I?" he continued.

"You're very good, but yes. Much more lively," Malik correctly gently, Bo already spoke rather slowly at times, though sometimes he could get up to normal speed. "And thank you, I suppose," Malik said thoughtfully.

"I also think of you as more of the one who punishes, not Altair," Bo said.

"Really? I'm not that bad am I?"

"Not at all," Bo said, "but everyone listens to you, you do more, I have never seen Altair… act like the Mentor," he admitted. "In my sight you are Mentor."

That had never occurred to Malik before. To him the line was obvious, Altair was Mentor, Malik was simply Grand Dai, and always below him, though it might only be by a step instead of a story like it was between Altair and the other Dais. He didn't know how to answer Bo, do he didn't. Bo realized that the conversation was over at least.

They'd made it a ways down the mountain and were about to pass the first watch tower when Jase came up along side him. "Grand Dai," he said.

"Yes?"

"Was the Grandmaster being serious?" he asked carefully and glanced back at Colin.

"About what?" Malik asked.

"Would… would he have have Colin beaten like a novice?"

"Yes," Malik didn't even hesitate. He didn't know if Altair really would have, but he could not undermined Altair's power here. Colin and Jase both had the believe that yes, Altair would have if he was angry enough.

Jase paled. "But Colin is an old man. Surely not. I mean, he is too old for such treatment."

"No one is ever too old to be above the Grandmaster or the Order, or punishment."

"Surely beating is a bit harsh of a punishment."

"I don't know what sort of training you received Jase," Malik looked straight at him, "By the Syrians do not tolerate or train their men to be weak."

"O-of course not. I wasn't insinuating it could even be a chance. But… beat an old man?"

Malik looked back at Colin, he was riding in front of the last guard, but seemed dejected and clearly not happy. Colin was in this late thirties, the scar on his cheek made him look older, but all his hair was still dark brown and he was not balding. "Colin is not old, Jase," Malik sad. "Let me tell you a tale though, of why no one is above the Creed, or the Master's orders."

"Okay," Jase said apprehensively.

"Once upon a time Altair was not the great man you see before you now. He was brutal, arrogant, stupid, and did not listen to anyone, except when it suited him. He went on a mission with some of our brothers, failed the mission, broke the Creed, lost a valuable treasure, and let the leader of the Templars escape. All this, because Altair did not listen or do as commanded. He could have saved lives that day and kept his honor. He did not though. Instead he was stripped of everything save himself, so he was a novice, and Azrael, the Grandmaster before Altair, appeared to kill him."

"Appeared to?"

"A poison that simulates death. Very dangerous, easy to mess up. Altair nearly died for real, but then he awoke, reborn. But the dead cannot simply live without payment. Nine lives were Altair's payment for his own. He had to kill nine high profile targets on his own. No one could help him. In this he was reminded of what we are, who we are, what we fight for, and why even if we think otherwise, no one is above the Creed. So when people think themselves above him, above the Order and the Creed, he knows what it is like, what it can do to someone and what one man can do to destroy our world because he thinks he is better than others."

"So when Altair was angry at Colin it was because he saw himself in Colin?" Jase asked.

"Yes," Malik said. Or so he guessed, It could have been Altair was just in a mood and had had enough of the Greeks. They were needy, annoying, men and they had to personally deal with some nearly made up problem they had. Men were complaining about them as well. He'd left explicit instructions for Munahid and Rauf that unless it was something ridiculous that they were to smooth over any problems as quickly as possible using any means required. If it got out of hand they were to get Zaki. Old he might have been but you weren't a close friend of the Mentor if you weren't able to shove someone's foot in their mouth, and Ciro might actually respect Zaki, unlike Munahid and Rauf.

He thought it was more the other option.

"Altair is very wise then."

"He has his moments," Malik agreed. "Never forget that he is Mentor for a reason. You and your father and friends. He is as other Grandmasters, powerful, cunning, clever, and does not appreciate being talked back to," and oh Altair hated that one so much, or being told to not talk or talked down to. He wasn't an idiot, though he had his moments of truly spectacular stupidity. "Those old men that came with you think that because they're older and from Greece they can get away with more."

"It is the opposite," it was good to see Jase understood. The other man wasn't a bad guy, Malik sort of regretted having to humiliate him once the Threshing was over. "We must be more respectful. This isn't our place. I wish my father understood that. He doesn't like it here, too hot he says, too dry, and he doesn't…"

"Doesn't?"

"I speak too much. Forget I said anything," and Malik didn't bother to prod, Jase was closed off to him. He knew what Jase was going to say though, Ciro didn't like them, him and Altair, or the Syrians. They continued to ride in silence.

—

They didn't catch up to Altair until after midday, he and his black horse and guard were waiting for him at the top of a cliff that looked over more of the mountain. Below it was a town, but not one that was to be Threshed this year. It was in it's dormant years. They would have to ride the rest of the day to reach the first town. The farm land here was cut into the mountains and it was filled with wheat and barley and vegetables and fruits. Some fields were half picked, others were empty, a few remained full to bursting, waiting to be harvested.

"Lunch time then?" Malik asked as he drew Satim up to Mika'il. Altair said nothing, but he wasn't moody now. He was just silent. He silence was his agreement and Malik grunted and swung down from Satim, a little shaky on his legs. It had been two years since he'd last ridden a horse any true distance, his legs hurt. "We're stopping for lunch," Malik announced, reaching down to rub his aching thighs.

The rest of their party dismounted and their guards unpacked saddlebags and handed out fruit, cheese, water, and some roasted lamb. "None for Colin," Altair said, turned in his saddle, watching as a guard almost handed Colin some bread. The guard retracted his hand and moved on. Colin sort of scowled at him, Altair just stared back coolly, his hood up again. Colin looked away. Only then did Altair dismount and seem to become human again.

"Was that really necessary?" Malik asked him quietly as Altair reached into his own saddlebag to give Mika'il some water and a treat of oats, stroking him shiny black neck. Altair just gave him a confused. "Don't play innocent with me Altair."

"You're the one who told me they should fear me," Altair said without remorse or apology. "So," Mika'il had finished the oats. Altair dusted his hands. "I'm making them fear me," and Malik had no response for that. Especially not when a guard came and gave him some food. Malik took an cup of pomegranate seeds and went over to Kamal as Altair found a place to sit, hunkered down and didn't talk to anyone. He was still in a mood, not because of the Greeks though. This was an Abbas mood, a Grandmaster mood. He was thinking about the Order and his duties.

"How was she?" Malik asked Kamal who was drinking some water.

"Quiet," Kamal said and put his water away. "The longer I'm with you the more I see their reflections."

"Then I expected her to be pissy," Malik said, dumping most of the seeds into his mouth.

"She was. But it was a quiet pissed off," Kamal laughed. "Does Altair know?"

"He's about to," and Malik opened the basket attached to the top of Kamal's horse's saddle bags. Sawsan glared at him from where she was. "Oh stop that," and he scooped her up into one arm. "Clean out the lining if she made a mess."

"Yes, sir," Kamal said, "I'll have lunch first," Malik nodded to that.

He saw Jase and Colin talking, looking at him, Colin pointed, but they were speaking Greek, he couldn't understand them. He knew what they were saying though, it was about Sawsan. Malik walked over to Altair, who was looking down the mountain, picking at a bread roll with some roasted lamb and figs he'd seemingly stuffed into the soft center. Altair didn't look when Malik approached him though. "Hey," Malik said, Altair didn't motion that he's heard. Malik sighed, "Stop thinking so much I can hear it," and then he dropped Sawsan onto his shoulders. Altair sat up straight with a jolt. And then Sawsan was purring her loud purr and rubbing against the side of Altair's hooded head.

He twisted and looked up at Malik, "You brought Sawsan?" he was surprised. Malik hadn't told him. He'd had a feeling something in the first day would piss Altair off, or in the coming days. What better thing to have around than something that turned Altair into an easy to manage boy of a child? With Sawsan around Malik wouldn't have to work so hard.

"Yes."

Altair shoved the last few bites of the bread into his mouth and picked Sawsan up from his shoulders and put her in his lap. He held her in his lap and stroked her head. "Thank you," Altair said in a very low tone, so no one but Malik could hear.

Malik said nothing and left him to find his own lunch. As he did he saw Jase sneak Colin some bread and pomegranates. He'd tell Altair about it later. He wouldn't appreciate Jase undermining his authority in the slightest by disobeying him. It'd be a good lesson for the younger man as clearly Malik's story hadn't stuck. It wouldn't be severe, but next time Jase might not get to eat either.