"Then you wish to take action?" Addin asked, to the roaring approval of the crowd; Altaïr was not pleased to see such a thing, but he well knew that a man with the proper will could guide a crowd to follow where he led them. "Your devotion pleases me," he said, turning to indicate the prisoners with a sweep of his left arm. "This evil must be purged, only then can we hope to be redeemed."
Narrowing his eyes as a pair of men, the same pair that he had seen discussing the fate of the man's son – still in their white and pale-greed garb – came up to the stage, loudly denouncing Majd Addin and the farce of bloodlust and madness he was parading as justice, Altaïr sighed softly. He would not be able to save these men, but at least he could ensure that their sacrifice would not be in vain.
Moving forward during the inattention of the guards that had been distracted by their murder of the two men who had spoken out against the madness and bloodlust that Addin had encouraged within the crowd before him, Altaïr lowered his head slightly in remembrance of the two men who had been so brave as to offer themselves in the defense of people who could not defend themselves. Making his way up onto the execution platform, Altaïr forced himself forward as Addin turned the sacrifices of those two men – infinitely better than Addin himself would ever be, even if he were allowed to live – to his own advantage with barely a thought.
He was forced to watch the deaths of another two innocents – a woman, and then a man, neither of them likely to have done what Addin had contrived to accuse them of – before he was able to make his way close enough to deal with Addin properly. It was a cold comfort, but he had at least managed to come in time to aid the Assassin that he had been informed would be present.
As though he had been alerted by some other power, some heightened sense of combat that Altaïr would not have expected of a man who was merely engaging in mindless butchery as he was, Addin turned to look directly at Altaïr. The man seemed to know, though not by any means accept, that death had come for him at last. Altaïr, however, did not particularly care what Addin was willing to accept.
Launching himself forward, flicking out his Hidden Blade so that he would be better able to deal with Addin when the time came, Altaïr sunk the blade into his neck as he landed amid the roars and screams of the crowd; at this point, Altaïr rather thought that none of them were particularly aware of what was truly happening, merely wanting blood to appease the bloodlust that Addin had stirred in them. Altaïr thought it fitting, when he allowed himself to think of it at all.
"Your work here is finished," he said, tensing himself to deliver the finishing blow.
The guards, at least, seemed to have realized that something had gone wrong, and were attempting to fight their way through the panicking crowds. None of them, it seemed, had expected death to strike the man who had gathered them here. Altaïr knew that he did not have so much time to linger in this place, and yet he still wanted to know just what it was that Addin would say in his own defense.
"No, no," the man moaned softly, already dying. "It had only just begun."
"Tell me: what was your part in all of this?" he demanded. "Do you intend to defend yourself as the others have? To explain away your evil deeds?"
"The brotherhood wanted the city; I wanted power," Addin said, beginning to smile slightly. "There was… an opportunity."
"An opportunity to murder innocent people," Altaïr returned, disgusted with the man now bleeding out at his feet.
"Not so innocent," Addin said, blood beginning to pool at the left side of his mouth. "Dissident voices cut deep as steel. They disrupt order; in this, I do agree with the brotherhood."
"You would kill people simply for believing differently than you?" Altaïr asked; it fit what he had learned of the Templars, at least.
"Of course not…" Addin said, almost seeming as though he would have been laughing. "I killed them because I could; because it was fun. Do you know what it feels like, to determine another man's fate? And did you see the way the people cheered? The way they feared me? I was like a God! You'd have done the same, if you could. Such… power."
"Once, perhaps," Altaïr allowed himself to admit. "But then I learned what becomes of those who life themselves above others."
"And, what is that?" Addin asked, curious to the last.
"Here, let me show you," he said, finishing the tyrant, and then closing Addin's eyes as a final gesture. "Every soul shall taste death."
Moving swiftly away from Majd Addin's cooling corpse, Altaïr dashed for the nearest of the buildings to him. Clambering up the wall, he broke the line of sight on himself, then dove into a rooftop garden to escape the scrutiny of the guards pursuing him. Safely out of sight, Altaïr waited for the furor in his area of the city to die down slightly, and then moved quickly away over the rooftops once more. He knew that the archers he had killed had more than likely been replaced, particularly considering the level of security that Majd Addin had been operating under.
He could not afford carelessness, less in this situation than in many others.
Timing his movements carefully, so that he would never have the eyes of a man he could not kill upon him, Altaïr made his way swiftly back to the Bureau; Malik awaited news of his success there, though the Dai was more than likely aware of such a thing already.
When he had finally returned to the Bureau, making his way back down into the building as quickly and quietly as he ever had, Altaïr found that he was rather more eager than he had ever been to return to Masyaf once more. There seemed to be other things that he had been unaware of; things he was beginning to consider, now that he knew that the men he was hunting did indeed share more than their means and motives. Now that he knew he was facing the Templars once more.
Making his way into the main room of the Bureau, finding Malik hard at work behind the counter once more, Altaïr made his way over to the Dai to make his report.
"Jerusalem shall need a new ruler," he said simply, knowing that Malik would be aware of what he meant.
"So I have heard," the Dai said, sounding rather unimpressed; Altaïr could not find it within himself to be surprised at such a thing.
"Yes; I suppose that all of the city knows of his demise by now," he said.
"You performed as an Assassin should: no more, no less," Malik said, his unimpressed expression remaining; Altaïr briefly wondered what it would take to change it, and then mentally rebuked himself for such a thought.
Deeds were the way to change a man's mind; not merely words.
"Is there anything else that you would wish to speak to me about?"
"No," Malik said bluntly. "Reflect on your performance on your way back to Masyaf. And, if you do chance to meet up with Alnesr again, tell him that I would enjoy speaking with him if his path returns here."
"I will, Malik," he said, dipping his head to the Dai and then turning to make his way back to the sleeping area so that he could wait for the furor that his actions had caused to die down.
A light sleep left him clear-headed and better able to face whatever the rest of the day would bring, as well as free of the harsh, strident ringing of the alarm bells that had begun clanging almost before the dying body of Majd Addin had fallen to the ground. Making his way back out of the Bureau, Altaïr found his way back onto the rooftops, and from there was able to make his way carefully back to the edge of the city once more. He smiled briefly to see another group of scholars, before moving down to immerse himself within their ranks.
