Friends I needed my boys to have a break from all the drama... before the real drama begins! Stay tuned because after these normal chapters, we will see a really cool flip
Also I sorta edited? Not really? Kinda? It's not easy!
Days after the trials fully ended, when their anger subsided and their injuries calmed, Basilio and Tazim fell into a more familiar routine.
After finishing his duties in the stables, Tazim searched for Basilio to spend their afternoon together. Oftentimes finding him in the kitchen or dining hall, no doubt carrying another punishment for stealing desserts. The shame was in being caught, not in displaying his skillful hands, Basilio told him once.
When Tazim arrived, strolling thoughtlessly through the entrance of the dining hall, a peculiar sight welcomed him.
Basilio, in the midst of clearing tables, was surrounded by three young novices, eagerly asking questions. The trio of boys, no older than fourteen or fifteen, with their robes only just fitting their lanky arms, drowning over their boney hands, and scraped palms. All reminiscent to Basilio's thin and gangly stature when Tazim first met him.
Tazim takes a seat near the far corner, watching the equal levels of shock and admiration on Basilio's face while addressing the boys. After waiting for them to leave, Tazim comes forward and teases.
"They treat you as though you were a legend from a story."
Setting a heavy bucket of water down, a grown escaping him, Basilio jokes back, "One day you will find my name in a book you read."
"Who were those boys?" Tazim asks, grabbing the bucket and helping in clearing the area, "I've seen them before, in training."
While Tazim moved into the kitchen, Basilio followed with a handful of soiled rags. If he knew Tazim were to be so helpful, he would have called for his aid hours ago.
"They found us," Basilio explained simply, tossing the rags onto a table and instructing Tazim where to toss the murky water. After his cleaning seemed well enough, he quickly ushered them outdoors through a back exit, "While we secretly recruited older ones during the games, the little one followed Rafi. He found us and confronted Tarek. They nearly begged to join."
"Smart in all the ways it never matters, yet stupid in the ways it does," Tazim rolls his eyes in amusement.
Basilio shrugs, curling his lips, "They reminded me of you."
Of course, they would.
They entered the village that evening, any heavy burdens of their duties were long forgotten as they ventured toward their hidden refuge. During the time it took to leave the castle and reach their training grounds, they were not assassins in training nor secret loyalists, they were young men enjoying the calm of the setting sun. Two boys taking a stroll, their deadly robes meant for nothing more than to keep them warm.
As Basilio chewed on a piece of bread beside him, Tazim studies the odd patches of shortened hair behind his head, "Can I ask you a question?"
Shrugging, Basilio takes a final bite, "Don't you always?"
"Why did you weep for that boy?" Tazim asked gingerly, quickly adding, "The one from the fight with Nahir."
Had he tried hiding the puffiness in his eyes the night it happened, Tazim would have still known Basilio cried. He expressed so much of himself so openly. Though his face was stained in the darkened shadows when Basilio spoke to Tazim that night, it was impossible to mask the pain in his voice.
Basilio takes a moment to remember.
"If I hadn't," he begins to say, his eyes squinting ever so slightly in the upcoming darkness, "who else would?"
The most tragic part, Tazim thought, there was nothing but truth in his words.
"He had no family but us. He trusted only us," Basilio continues. He scoffs, suddenly angry, "And we failed him. For what? A silly game."
When they decide to spend the calm night by the creek alongside their training grounds, Ruben makes no fuss at their lack of practice that night, knowing just how stubborn and lazy young men can be. He lets the two do as they please while the rest go on with their drills.
The scent of burning wood and abrupt sounds of knives being carved into practice dummies are welcoming to their ears. They were familiar. Something Tazim missed on the nights he rallied with Nahir and Gadiel.
Laying a beside the creek, his hand every so often touching the water, Tazim admits, "We're children."
He feels Basilio's eyes on him but keeps his gaze on the sky above. He's ashamed. A part of him still feels guilty for his betrayal not long ago. No matter his reassurance, Basilio's obvious mental wounds remained. His emotional wounds, Tazim is positive, have been buried deep as well.
Even so, he smiles as if the world were perfect. As though they'd won a war together, bathed in the glory of victory. Basilio's smile is that of an innocent soul, untouched by their cruel world, or simply ignorant. Something inside Tazim aches, he wants to punch him and steal the kindness from his very heart.
Tazim wants to see what all that kindness really looked like.
"Then let us be children," Basilio offers bravely, jumping over to kneel beside him, "We are nineteen, let it be so."
"Only tonight," Tazim agrees with a smile of his own, sitting up, "We are normal. We are no different than any other boys in the village."
"And how did we meet, if not through the Order?" Basilio drops down. Resting his arm on a bent knee, he humors their ideas.
"As boys," Tazim explains as though it were the most obvious thing, "Both your mother and father bring you to Masyaf. My uncle has brought me along to buy merchandise. We steal apples together. You teach me to swim; I teach you to-"
"Read!" Basilio urged, "You teach me to read."
Frowning, Tazim took a moment to look him over, clear judgment in his eyes, "You already know how to read, Basilio."
"Yes, but this Basilio is taught by you," he grins widely.
All Tazim does is wave his hand, as if to clear the air of their silly ideas. Even when pretending, Basilio needed to be dramatic and extravagant in such humbled ways. For a moment, Tazim let's himself imagine such a simple life. One where he and Basilio grew up together, whether in the Order, or as simple folk in the city, it didn't matter if they were together.
Tazim imagines what Basilio looked like as a boy. A lost outcast with no friend but Zamir. Would they have been good friends? If Abbas never rose to power, would they have a more joyful fate?
Whatever type of life it would be, they were given the present one instead, and that was enough already.
"We grow together!" Basilio yells in excitement, pulling Tazim from his thoughts, "My family stays. As boys, we convince them to live in Jerusalem beside yours, and our troublemaking continues."
Somehow, it isn't an impossible thought. Basilio would make a convincing vendor. If anything, he would charm his way into selling even the most useless items. Jokingly, Tazim offers, "We work for my uncle until we are able to travel."
"With our parents' blessing," Basilio explains, his hands running wildly as he adds more detail into their pretend lives. When Tazim makes a sour face at his comment, Basilio hits him over the head, "We cannot travel without a blessing, Tazim."
It was something he'd done already. Something he never told Basilio, due to his own cowardice. Somehow, Tazim felt it was too late. Too late to explain his real reason for venturing into Masyaf, and the search for his father. Somehow, Tazim believed that eventually the truth would have been revealed.
As Basilio went on with their plannings, Tazim thought. Maybe the truth could wait a little longer.
Going on with their second life, Basilio explains how once they are men, they travel to Valencia. They are older, stronger, and prepared to gain more experience with their travels. When he speaks of his homeland, Basilio holds a curious glint in his eye, it makes him seem more childish and suddenly more innocent.
"It is beautiful. The waves, music of the ocean." Basilio perks his lips next, "The women."
Tazim slaps Basilio's back, rolling his eyes, "Shut up."
They say nothing for the next few minutes, both slowly forgetting the silly plans of a different life. Pulling at the grass beneath him with one hand, Basilio is lost in thought of his old home. Tazim has calmed, laying down closely to the creak, with an arm over his eyes in efforts to better relax.
Timidly, Tazim mumbles from behind closed eyes, "When we are in Valencia, what happens?"
His eyes don't need to be opened to know just how large Basilio's smile was, he could hear it in his voice.
"We will be older than we are now, only by a few years. My wife is beautiful, your wife is beautiful. We have children there. Create families of our own. Sons and daughters. Then they have their own children."
"And then?"
"Then…" Basilio thinks for a moment. His eyes scan across the creek, observing the curves of the water. As he ponders, a sad smile appears on his lips, and he closes his eyes for just a moment, "We are old men, having lived a full life. A life with no war, no secrecy, or spilled blood. A life without death."
"It is dangerous to hope for such things."
Basilio glances at him sincerely, Tazim has lifted his arm enough to watch Basilio through a single eye. A curious smile graces his lips. Before Tazim can ask any question, Basilio has pushed him off the bank and into the water.
"What is life without a little danger?"
Once the night became cooler, and Ruben pushed them to have a proper night's rest for once, no less chasing the younger novices away, did Tazim and Basilio feel the weight of exhaustion over them.
They drag their feet as they climb up the hill toward the village, not wanting to end their night just yet. His boots squeak with each step, but Tazim doesn't mind. As they walk, he lets his palm lightly slap the back of Basilio's head, half joking, "Why was your hair cut short?"
For a brief moment, Basilio flinches at the question. Quick in deceit, he smiles and shrugs it off, "I needed a change. The weather was unbearable."
Tazim finds the underlying pain within his words.
It's a few days later, and too much dodging from Basilio of the topic, that Tazim finds out what truly happened. After following him through the halls all morning, Tarek explains loosely and annoyingly, just how Basilio was surprised by a group of men one night during the games. Eager to humiliate him in retaliation over a lost fight.
As simple as that.
Only when Tazim asks who the culprits were, Tarek meets him with resistance.
Shrugging, he scrunches his nose, "It is always someone new. We bond. As boys, I tricked him to eat dirt, and not long ago you were holding him underwater. We all have rotten luck, Tazim. Still, that does not make him any more special."
The way Tarek spoke so casually, it annoyed Tazim. Maybe it was his own resentment of his past actions, maybe it was his own emotions getting the best of him. Whatever it was, Tazim refused to let Basilio down again.
"Maybe not, but he is my friend."
Ngl I missed my boys being pals. So they are friends again!
Also news!
Currently in life I've taken a big step in a direction to change my future (work wise) I'm in the "one step before a possible big change" part of that little journey. So if all goes well, I may possibly get even more time to write OR the same amount, I'm not very sure yet but let's hope it's more.
Stay safe, get plenty of sleep, drink agua, and I will see ya in the next one!