From here on out I decided to write Tazim as well... as Tazim seeing as he will now take on this identity. So just a small clarification. And also apologies for a somewhat short chapter compared to the previous. Comments and questions are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Tazim would never admit he lost his way. Traveling alone for the first time came with its pros and cons. He may have been taking slightly longer than he would have thought to reach his destination, but he refused to believe he was lost. He began with following the brightest star as his mother had told him years before. Yet a haze covered the sky, Tazim was as good as blind. It was not even a few hours and the young man longed to arrive at his destination. His mare was far from tired but Tazim himself was exhausted.

Tazim. What a name. If he were to be accepted into the brotherhood he could not risk the chance of being found out. He must become accustomed to the name. With every passing day, Tazim only looked more like his father. His mother had told him much of that. And Tazim himself looked nothing like his mother. With their shared name, many of the older Assassin's may begin to ask questions. Surely the one he had met must have sensed something.

Still, he was not completely sure who his mare had belonged to prior. She had been waiting for him. Surely it was the Assassin's doing. But there was no way to be completely certain. Tazim quite liked her calm exterior. The beast was strong, her stamina one that even Tazim was impressed with. Her appetite not so much after having ate most of the apples Tazim had brought with him. Elma he named her.

Giving a quick glance up into the clouded sky, Tazim cursed at himself. Of all nights for the weather to act up...

He was far too tired to think more of it. The young man jumped down from his horse, looking up into the dark sky angrily once again. The moon gave enough light behind its haze but not enough to show a sign of stars. He couldn't risk traveling during the night and becoming more lost. Tazim almost hoped to find the Assassin on his journey but as fate would have it, he had waited too long. The Assassin would be much farther ahead than he.

"We will rest, Elma." Tazim spoke softly to his mare while unpacking his bedroll. It may not be much, but the teen was beyond thankful for a somewhat comfortable resting place.

Tazim had little experience when it came to sleeping out in the open. He neared a tree to sleep under for a few hours. Perhaps when he awoke, Tazim would find his bearings. His mare near him, he would give Elma some time to rest. He had not thought he would be so tired. Although he and Rahim had awoken early that morning to set up their stall in the markets. As he lay down, Tazim felt the burn of his muscles from that afternoon's quarrel with the guards and Assassin.

Just as he closed his eyes, ready to fall asleep comfortable with his head resting on his pack filled with miscellaneous items, Tazim thought back to his family. His mother surely would awaken to find him missing. It hurt him now to think he would cause her so much pain. But Tazim had no other choice. He would see for himself. Why his father never returned to them.

Yet he was afraid of what truths he would find or perhaps not find.

He hadn't noticed he fell asleep until hours later when a cold blade pressed against his neck. Tazim's vision was blurred as he forced his eyes to open. Within a few second he caught sight of the hooded figure leaning over him. Perhaps his night was not as unlucky as it had seemed.

Assassin.

Tazim scoffed, his voice still clung to sleep, "Well, it was about time-"

"The mare," the blade at Tazim's neck dug deeper.

It was only after a moment that Tazim realized, this Assassin was not an Assassin. At least not the one Tazim had met. His voice was that of a much younger man's, a strange hint of an accent. The cowl, his robes were not the deadly white of the man he had met. Not the Assassin he should fear. His face, although hardly distinguishable in the hazy moonlight, was young, almost childlike with softer features. Clearly no thick beard.

Tazim wiped the sleep from his eyes, "What?-"

"This horse is not yours, boy," yet again the blade moved on his neck, drawing the slightest bit of blood, "Speak wisely before I cut out your tongue as well as your head."

Although he was much younger than most Assassin's, Tazim reminded himself he must take caution. Such novices surely cared less for the life of any random civilian. No matter how much he told himself he should not be afraid, Malik could not fight the nerves the Novice gave him. He feared the young man being unpredictable. He thought carefully of what the boy was telling him. The mare, of course! Tazim mentally slapped himself. The Assassin must have set him up. What rotten luck he had.

"The Assassin- he... an older man! I can explain."

At that, the Novice let a grin spread across his face before letting out a laugh, "I am only joking," he removed his blade from Tazim's neck and stood, "You sound like a little girl. I know of the Assassin. He is my superior. We crossed paths. He told me to keep an eye out for a boy looking like a beggar."

The Novice stood up, putting his blade away and offering a hand to Tazim which he gladly accepted. Tazim brushed off his dusted clothes and wiped and the drop of blood on his neck, eyeing the young man, "You're no older than I am."

"Perhaps not in age but in rank..." he let his voice trail off, taking a step aside to pet Elma, "Grab your things, we are leaving to Masyaf. You have slowed down my return."

What a rude novice, Tazim thought. Although having just met, Tazim could not help but feel the arrogance within his annoying voice. He was not from Masyaf, the young man knew very well from his light toned skin and distinct accent. But he was right, the sooner they reached Masyaf the better. Tazim was fast in collecting his things. His bedroll tied neatly as he secured it on his horse.

"You are a novice yet you wander freely?" He pointed out with just as much dignity, mounting Elma and taking hold of the reins.

The novice thought over the question, the corner of his lips tugging upward yet falling just as quickly. He made sure the satchel and few weapons on his saddle were secure. "I was accompanying my superior. Collecting taxes. He is less harsh than others. I am Basilio," he answered, mounting his own horse.

"Tazim."

"I know," Basilio rolled his eyes, a faint curl to his lips, "Tazim, am I to believe you are worthy to walk up the steps of the Masyaf castle?"

At that, Tazim became irritated. How dare this mongrel speak such words toward him. Of course he was worthy and if not well he would make sure to become worthy soon enough. What a question to ask. Tazim only wished their journey to Masyaf would be fast, he was unsure if he could stand being with Basilio any longer than necessary.

The young man scoffed, "You are to believe whatever you wish, it is not my business. And I do not care. I am going to Masyaf for a serious matter."

He would reach Masyaf to obtain answers. Answers to questions having long been asked. Those from his childhood of which his mother closely had avoided. He was not there to make friends. Most especially not with such an outspoken novice as Basilio.

"Quite the mood killer," the other replied with a light chuckle, guiding his own horse down the road as Tazim followed, "You wish to be trained?"

With an annoyed grunt, Tazim answered, "I wish to further my training, yes." He had not trained himself all his life for no reason at all. He was trained, except perhaps not professionally.

Basilio hummed amusingly, "Then you will be disappointed. But true to your word, you will be an Assassin. You hold the anger."

"I hold more than anger."

"Yes," the younger grinned and nodded to himself, "You do, brother."

As they slowly neared a hill, a faint hint of moonlight escaped from beyond the hazy sky. A light breeze of air had begun to pick up, kissing at Tazim's skin. The sky would be sure to clear soon enough and they would reach Masyaf not long after. Yet even with a guide, Tazim could do little to hide his discontent. At least the discontent of having this particular guide.

The young man could not help but growl in annoyance, "Will you make this journey difficult, Basilio?"

"It depends," he smirked, turning his head back to look at his new acquaintance, "are you ever not so serious, Tazim."