Basilio had done well in welcoming Tazim, explaining how each man had their own responsibilities and duties. Going so far as to quietly point out some of those whom Tazim should avoid. Basilio had taken him into the kitchen for a hot meal, boasting that his own food was far more exquisite and guided him all throughout the fortress. The young man was detailed in his tour, illustrating each room in the castle and its purpose. He was shown around the village and made more or less familiar with its people.
Although there had been much Basilio had done those first few days there had also been much that he had not done. Much he had been keeping from Tazim.
Tazim grew annoyed as well as tired. He had been given a proper room for himself by the third night, the chest filled with his belongings having been brought into it as well. And yet each night as he walked back to his chambers, rubbing at his sore muscles from a long days work, Tazim came to take notice of a certain light skinned fool making his way secretly through the dark halls. Every night, without fail, Basilio dissolved into the darkness.
That devious, underhanded foreign moron.
"I've noticed your absence late at night," he accused, waiting for Basilio outside his bedroom door one evening.
Tazim had occupied himself by watching his partner that day after he'd spent the entire morning crammed in the stables, grooming and feeding the horses. It is what he'd been made to do since he'd arrived at Masyaf and the young man grew sick of it. He had few opportunities to venture in search of the sole reason he had sought out the Order.
"And?" Basilio replied simply with a raise of his eyebrow, he made little attempt to move past Tazim to enter his bedroom. Relaxed and composed as though he had nothing at all to hide. Something practiced. Learned. But Tazim knew well what he observed each and every night.
"You return at times with wounds. Cuts or bruises. What is it that you do, Basilio?" Most recently, Tazim had witnessed the younger man slither back into his chamber, his robes filthy and his temple bruised and swollen the very next morning. His very cheek held a newly acquired scratch that night. He never hid his wounds but Basilio never spoke of them either. Never gave reason to speak of them.
"I like to cook," he answered easily with smirk.
Tazim narrowed his eyes, "Tell me then, was it a carrot or loaf of bread that gave you that bruise above your eye?" he finished by flicking the others' temple.
Basilio slapped his hand away and scoffed, his gaze turning ever so slightly to scan the halls. He was sure to check that they were alone. With a final roll of his eyes, the younger spoke tiredly, "Let us speak inside, you have a bigger mouth than myself."
Once inside, Basilio let himself fall heavily onto his bed, his long arms and legs stretching in every outward direction without caring that Tazim would interrogate him soon. He let out a stale groan, wanting only to sleep. After a few moments, he forced himself to turn at last, forcefully sitting up. The young man grabbed a damp rag from his bedside, dipping it into a bowl of water on the same table. Basilio motioned for Tazim to take a seat which the latter refused.
Tazim kept by the door, his chin raised high with determination and his arms firm at his sides. "Speak, Novice."
The younger man's attitude seemed more annoyed than worried or scared. He silently pressed the rag to the scratch on his cheek, wincing the slightest bit before setting it down once more. Now he would give Tazim his attention. "It humors me that you think I am afraid of you," Basilio paused, crossing his arms and speaking calmly with a sigh, "I do suppose it is time."
Time? Time for what? Tazim's brows furrowed in concern. He knew well that Basilio was a devious person. He had his way with words. That smirk of his accompanied by his wicked words always being his escape plan. Except, this time it seemed Basilio was interrogating him. Eyeing him over. Studying him with a certain twinkle behind his eyes,
"Brother," Basilio finally spoke, his voice gentle yet firm nonetheless, "what are your views on the Master?"
"My views?" Tazim answered, puzzled.
"It is what I said." Basilio nodded, his face having relaxed.
Tazim took a moment to respond. A moment to think on his possible answer. His views on the Brotherhood? He had many. He had so many questions still unanswered, so many statements he wished to make and have them be heard. The stories he'd once been told as a child served as a memory long forgotten for the Order. Power it once obtained now withered and crumbled at their very feet.
It was immature of Tazim to blame any particular man for the dramatic fall the Order had taken. But he was beyond certain the reason behind such adverse downfall had to do with one man in particular. The fool in power at the very moment. Their very ludicrous master.
Tazim felt the anger rise in his chest. His purpose having returned. He turned to Basilio, a faint growl to his words. "I do not believe ruthless men should be in power," the young man answered, his voice persistent, "The Order... it is not what I was made to believe."
"It has not been for a long time," Basilio added with a light shake of his head.
Tazim once more took notice of the faded bruise above Basilio's eye and the scratch on his cheek which didn't seem too deep as it had before. Basilio's already sunken eyes seemed more tired and Tazim couldn't help but wonder if his own looked the same. The other boy must have been tired seeing as he left his chambers each and every night. And the location of his whereabouts, Tazim had a good guess as to where Basilio went.
"You train in secret?" It wasn't much of a question as Tazim had already presumed the answer. The cuts and bruises, the tired face of his brother. It was beyond obvious now.
Basilio nodded, keeping his face serene.
"But not alone, correct?"
"There are few others," he admitted evenly. Basilio's face became stern abruptly, his voice dangerous and low, "You will speak of it to no one unless you want your tongue cut out."
Tazim nodded unquestionably, "Then I will join you. I will train."
There was a curious grin on Basilio's face, one of which Tazim could not completely decipher. His eyes seemed amazed, like a child as they wrinkled with the amused expression on his face. It was pride that flashed across his alluring features. Prideful of the fact that Tazim had connected all the dots. Prideful that Tazim would become a loyal friend.
Of that, there was no doubt.
"Even after Zamir told me of the trust he had in you," the younger began, the grin having left his lips, "I was unsure of your recruitment. Although... I still am unsure. Prove me wrong. We will train but... first I need to show you."
Tazim's voice faltered, his eyes attentive, "Show me what?"
"The truth. A warning. Come."
He was taken to the village below once more. Basilio being stern as they walked briskly, avoiding other Assassin's passing them by. One of his first lessons according to the younger man. One of which held a high level of importance that Tazim should at no time forget.
"You've brought me here before already," Tazim reminded him, almost tripping over his own feet as they walked down hill.
"Yes, but this time it is different," Basilio replied, his mouth hardly moving while his eyes scanned in every direction, "You must take caution, Tazim. It is not up for debate."
They entered the markets, Tazim kept close behind his companion. Basilio looking back every so often to make sure Tazim stayed close. They did their best to avoid any beggar or merchant who believed two young novice's would be easy targets.
Basilio scoffed, eyeing Tazim as he lead him through the busy streets, "Do not stray far, Novicio. We are almost to our destination."
Just as they turned the corner beside a stall, the two young men ran into an Assassin. Knocking into him and almost dropping the few inks he'd been carrying. Obviously of higher rank and age, the angered look on his face worked well to intimidate Tazim and Basilio. "Careful where you walk, mongrel," the Assassin growled in their direction, namely toward Basilio, "Or does your inadequacy render you blind as well?"
Basilio nodded his head sheepishly, nearly bowing, "Forgive me, I will watch my footing."
The Assassin did not appear fully content with the answer he was given, seemingly more angered by their presence than anything else. "I would hope so. Go," demanded the lone man.
Basilio nodded once more, hiding his angered expression. He then pulled on Tazim's sleeve roughly, ushering him through the alley and making their leave as quickly as possible. Tazim could not help but become annoyed, both from being pulled around and by the Assassin's bitter words. Inadequacy? What could he possibly mean by that? They were all of the same Order, they deserved to respect one another as well.
"Inadequacy?" declared Tazim as they entered a clearing near a fountain.
The other young man brushed him off. "Forget him. Some men are born idiots."
Basilio challenged his climbing. Having made him climb up to the balcony of an abandoned home, the platform hidden within the crooked branches of an overgrown tree. The stone was smooth, Tazim had some difficulty grasping its' edges and setting his foot inside the cracks and crevices. A small challenge, but Tazim had made his way atop the platform. The wooden railings of the balcony were rotten and weak, having broken from the weight of the trees' branches over the years.
From their height above the square, the two were easily capable of witnessing the ambition within it. A mother and her child carrying water or a man setting up his stall. At times even their own brothers, concealed inside an alley, taking bribes or making deals with others.
How disgraceful.
Basilio had certainly been correct. It would be wise to begin taking notice of who he should evade while in the confines of the Order as well as the village. After all, a reckless Assassin was a dead Assassin. Tazim had no plans to end his journey so soon after just having started it.
He brushed the dirt from his roughened hands on his robes and lastly turned to Basilio, "When will my real training begin?"
The younger man grew comfortable, kneeling and basking in the cool shade offered by the branches surrounding them. He looked down upon the street below before answering, "Tomorrow. After our days work. I will meet you by the stables. Now listen, Tazim."
Basilio stood to his full height once more, his face agitated as he motioned to the square below and the alleys among it. He most notably directed his attention to the few Assassin's walking among the villagers. A trio of young men grinning and whispering to each other as they witnessed an old man pass them by. "There are many loyal to Abbas. You must be careful with them. They are not to be taken lightly. Tread carefully."
At that moment, Basilio took notice of a peculiar man down in the square. The Assassin from before. The younger man did not keep his discontent hidden, he bared his teeth and spoke with annoyance, "Some are simply rude and impolite. Qué molestia."
The anger and concern Tazim had earlier evaded suddenly arose in his chest once more. The disgust, the bitterness that bled from the Assassin's words. It was almost inhumane the way he had spoken to them. The way his eyes bore into Basilio's skull as if hoping he would fall dead at his feet that very moment.
"What did the Assassin mean earlier?" Tazim finally asked, pulling at the neckline of his cowl and letting a light gust of air kiss his sweat-stained neck, "Inadequacy?"
The foreign young man's shoulders stiffened. He kept his face away, looking down to the square as Tazim waited for a response. Basilio sighed at last, letting his shoulders roll back, relaxing as he spoke solemnly. "My mixed blood," he lectured as he pulled a dry leaf off from the branch beside him.
"You are of Spanish descent." Tazim concluded respectfully.
Basilio nodded to himself, concluding his thoughts, "Partially, yes. I am."
His gaze fell upon the Assassin down below, his gloved hands curled into fists. Basilio lets out a breath, forcing himself to relax before turning to Tazim once more. His face having softened, the red of his cheeks slowly disappearing. Basilio's grin returned, the crinkle in his hazel eyes never far behind.
"To them," he strains a light chuckle, pulling apart the leaf in his hand, "my blood is abnormal. I am a foreigner." Basilio shrugged, tilting his head to the side, thinking over his words, "But I do not let them get the best of me. I was taught to be better. And so I will be."
A mixed Spaniard in the lands of Masyaf. Tazim would have never known of his Muslim side, Basilio's own features portrayed that of a Spanish man as well as his voice. His light skin, pink when in the hot sun yet richly colored in an almost beautiful way. The set of his jaw, softened still because of his age and the texture of his darkened hair, made lighter when in the sunlight.
He was unafraid of telling Tazim the tale of his parents before him. The bitter fact of his departure from his homeland. It is what little he told Tazim. How could one ever be fearful of where they came from? His mother was of Spanish heritage while his father a young Muslim who had conquered her heart.
"One must never forget where they come from, Tazim. Their home. Be prideful of it," he countered, the pride in his own chest ever so present.
Tazim couldn't help the grin spreading across his lips, "And where is your home?"
"Valencia. Beautiful Valencia." Basilio leaned his head back, taking in the fresh breeze along with the departing sun in the horizon.
"You are far from home."
"As are you."
Oh, but how wrong his friend was. Tazim was home at last. In Masyaf where he belonged just like his father before him. The entirety of his youth being dedicated to training, to make his father proud. He had his goal, his ambition in life. It was a pity, gazing at Basilio who enjoyed the sun on his skin. He had no reason to be in the Brotherhood. They only mocked and insulted him yet he would endure it all to prove he was better?
The thought alone worked to anger Tazim once again.
He shakes his head, his lips curling as his tongue spat out a foul taste. Yet for the slightest of moments, he felt an aching for the young man beside him. Tazim's features softened, his voice compassionate, "They discriminate. Cast you off as a fool from a different land when we've all come from different homes."
A sudden change of topic yet Tazim did not need to explain because Basilio understood just what he meant. It was unfamiliar to him, this type of kindness being shown. Nonetheless it was welcomed.
Basilio seemed to appreciate his words, a smile gracing his lips before he spoke, "You all come from the same lands, Tazim. I've sailed the seas to reach Masyaf."
"Still," Tazim concluded, "we all serve the same creed…"
"...We bleed the same colored blood. "
Ooof this was a doozy. Next Chapter we'll have Tazim training at last! I hope you all are enjoying this story so far, I do my best to work on it and update whenever possible. As usual, any questions or comments are greatly appreciated! Have an amazing day/night see you next time!