Unsure what to expect, Altair stood before the entrance to what he knew was Qasim's, his target's, quarters. The guards up until this point had proven to be no challenge, most were either entirely unaware he had even entered, or discretely knocked unconscious, by one means or another, and stowed away to remain undetected. However, despite the information he had gathered on the men inside and the small fort, merely a repurposed, large home really, he had garnered little about the target himself.
Not much seemed to be known of the man. Even the brotherhood's best informants could only tell him small details. The man was a big spender, he would often go into meetings with a hefty purse, only to leave empty handed. Though what he purchased remained a mystery. He also had a habit of tormenting beggars, waving small fortunes around, tempting them, then forcing them to commit cruel, often violent, immoral acts, purely to amuse himself. Whether or not he actually gave them the money would depend purely on his mood that particular day.
Entering the room ahead however, he could only guess as to what he'd find. Whatever Altair may have imagined, he certainly had not expected that. Lining every flat surface in the room, were large, gaudy, Persian rugs, sure to have cost a fortune for even one of them, yet this man had to have collected dozens upon dozens of them. The rugs had even been secured in such a fashion that they were hanging from the ceiling, gently draping down in a canopy style over various sections of the room, as others hung straight down, acting as makeshift curtains.
The room seemed to have been designed specifically to disorient any occupants, the rugs having patterns extravagant enough to make even Altair's head spin. Trying not to jostle any of the hanging carpets, he padded softly between them, careful not to make a sound. Resting on a chair in the back of the room, simply gazing at the many rugs surrounding him, was Qasim. "Hmm, I never imagined a bout of insomnia could be so fortunate. To think what might have happened had I been asleep." Not once did he bother to turn his eyes to Altair as he spoke, instead he remained focused on his decorations, a perfectly calm air about him.
Altair had no intentions of exchanging banter with his opponent, he merely drew his weapon, readying himself for the strike. Across from him, Qasim finally glanced toward the assassin, however he showed not even the slightest hint of concern. Plucking his own weapon from the stand beside him as he got to his feet, Qasim prepared himself for the assault. But just as Altair was about to lunge, something dawned on the thug. "Wait wait wait! Could we do this outside?" Altair said nothing in response, expecting some sort of trap. "It's just... these rugs were very expensive. I'd really rather not get blood smeared all over them. You understand, yes?"
"You expect me to believe this isn't some ploy to catch me off guard?" He was dumbfounded, he spoke unintentionally. This man was seriously asking him to move outside to attack him for the sake of his carpets? Face to face with death, and this lunatic was more concerned over these rugs than his life.
"Of course, these are priceless to me. I've spent years collecting only the finest of Persian rugs to fill my home. I don't want the blood of some pathetic assassin marring my prized possessions." Acting like this was completely within the norm, Qasim continued on "Are you telling me there isn't a single thing in your life you want to keep separate from your killing? Yes yes, giving your life to your creed is all well and good. Oh yes, I've met with a few of your brethren before. But you can't go through life without a single guilty pleasure. Some little spark of joy found outside the bloodshed. For me, it is my collection" he gestured around the room, pride filling his eyes as he smirked.
Much as he wanted to kill him right there and then, staining his precious belongings out of spite, he was suddenly distracted. That familiar silhouette appearing briefly in his thoughts, her braid swaying, small, brown eyes gleaming in the imagined light of his mind. Yes, there was indeed something he wished to keep unstained and pure in his life of bloodshed. He could understand this man's ramblings. As ridiculous as they were. But now was not the time to be lost in thought.
Slowly getting out of his readied position, relaxing somewhat, though still on guard, Altair nodded to him, gesturing toward the door to signal the other man should leave first. Not taking his eyes off Altair, he walked around him, leaving a wide berth and walking backwards once he'd passed by him. Fumbling only momentarily as he reached the door, attempting to back through it, he hit his elbow against the frame. He winced slightly, unable to completely hold his poker face.
Altair waited until the man had backed into the center of the previous room, in full view and unable to surprise him, before entering himself. As soon as the assassin exited his chambers and shut the door behind him with his foot, the bandit lunged towards him. Being a rather lean man, he was quite agile, rapidly approaching the larger man in his burst. However, Altair was startlingly quick for a man of his bulk. Easily dodging his foe with a side step, leaving him stumbling against the wall. As Altair countered with several blows of his own, the other man staggered back, just barely avoiding the cut of his knife.
Qasim had no time to regain his balance, as Altair continued his relentless flurry of attacks. A few slicing through Qasim's flesh, blood dripping onto the floor below. But not, Qasim thought briefly, on his precious rugs. At least he could take comfort in that thought as he was overtaken by the larger man. Truly, the fight was entirely one sided. It didn't take long for Altair to land a lethal thrust through the bandit's throat. Crumpling to the floor in a heap, he lay there, death came to him mere seconds after the blow, as the contract was fulfilled.
Drenching the tip of his white feather in the oozing liquid, staining it's pure vain red, he paused only a moment. He only needed to escape the building and make his way back to the bureau, delivering the feather to the dai in charge of the acre branch. With all the guards that should have been patrolling his escape route unconscious, he would have no trouble doing so.
What had Amali even begun working in the castle for? Sure, it was good that she was earning money of her own, but she didn't seem to be taking her work seriously. Rather than cleaning the halls, as she'd been assigned, she could often be found watching the assassin's training in the courtyard, or corralling Altair's fanclub of children. Asking the young boys all about Altair and his habits. Not that they had been there long enough to know much about him. Nasira was worried that Amali might have less than honorable intentions toward the mentor.
It hadn't taken Amali long to notice his absence and, during their evening meal at home, she began her questioning. "I only just found him, but I haven't seen him anywhere these past two days! Where could he have gone?" Nasira didn't need to be an genius to understand that Altair had been her reason for coming to this village. What exactly the girl wanted from him however, was yet to be determined. Her best guess, however ridiculous it seemed, was romance.
Not trusting Amali's motives, Nasira simply nodded along with her. "It's not unusual for the assassin's to leave suddenly though." He would likely be back in no time at all. Merely a few days and he'd be sitting up in that office again. Not that it concerned Nasira, not having him around to appear around corners right as she did something embarrassing didn't bother her.
With his target eliminated and the proper information relayed to the beurau, Altair was free to let his thoughts wonder as he readied himself for sleep. Qasim had brought to his attention something that, somehow, he had neglected to notice on his own. Over those last months, the figure in his mind had taken shape. Shifting incrementally from a faceless shadow into... Someone he wanted to know better.
He could see her clearly now, her thin features and lean build, brown eyes staring into his soul. Almost as if she were there in front of him, impossible as that would have been. Since when had the woman of his fantasies begun to change? He couldn't place the time. All he knew was that, at some point, he had stopped seeing a blank silhouette when he longed for company, and instead had started to think of Nasira.
Walking through the halls, on the third day since Altair had left, Nasira could hear footsteps about to round the corner ahead of her. The usual Assassin's robes, worn by a tall, muscular man... About the same build as Altair. Why had her heart started to beat just a little bit faster when she'd seen his similar stature? Only to fall once her eyes landed on his unfamiliar face and remembered that Altair was still in Acre.
She continued towards the kitchens, not looking at the man as she passed him. Entering her workspace, she paused a moment in the doorway. Thinking back to that simple breakfast, she couldn't even enter the kitchen without him coming to mind. It was likely Amali's fault, she could hardly stop talking about him. The way she spoke, Nasira would have thought he was some prince charming, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Altair was... Actually, now that Nasira thought about it, what did she really know about Altair?
He was responsible, certainly. At least he had become so, in recent years. Though, the way he spoke with some of the other assassins, she could tell he hadn't quite lost all of that past arrogance he was famous for. Of course, he was strong, stronger than most. But, who was he, deep down, underneath his usual stoic exterior? What was it he really wanted? Everyone in Masayaf knew he had been in the brotherhood since childhood, he'd never really had a chance to pursue anything beyond the war against the templars. Surely there was something he yearned for outside the guild's interests.
The next morning, Altair set out of the dreadful city of Acre, back towards masayaf. He could still feel the slightest anxiety at having to deal with Amali again, yet the anticipation of seeing Nasira far out weighted any misgivings he had. With the previous day's realization behind him, the only thing to do was act on his feelings. Once he returned to Masayaf, he intended to do just that. Though he still needed to figure out just how normal people went about cultivating relations. Most, if not all, of the people he considered to be close were relationships born out of necessity.
His journey home held little of interest for the first days. Perhaps in his rush to return, he rode his horse a bit too hard, leaving the steed worn out each night. Stopping a bit early on his last night for the horse's sake, knowing he would still arrive by midday regardless, he came upon an unexpected guest.
Not far from where Altair had made his camp a young man came into view. Pacing back and forth along the path, barely seeming to know where he was going. Despite knowing the other man was wandering about somewhere, Altair hadn't expected to actually find him. Nasira's friend, Kaaf, was lurking about the path nearby, looking extremely haggard, seemingly unsure where to go.
"You're Kaaf aren't you?" Getting the man's attention, Altair wasn't entirely sure how much he could do, but Nasira had asked him to keep an eye out for her friend, should he happen to come across him. Seeing him stop and walk closer to Altair gave him all the affirmation he needed. Even with his ragged appearance from, assumedly, several days alone in the wilderness, he was indeed the man he'd seen with Nasira before. "I'm told you've been missing for some time."
Though Altair couldn't recall having ever properly met the man, only seeing him from a distance, Kaaf must have recognized him, as his eyes grew wide, filling with anger. Had Altair offended him previously? It was possible, Malik often told him he had a frustrating personality. "Who told you that? And how do you even know who I am?" Whatever Altair had done to him, it must have been rather upsetting.
"Nasira asked me to keep an eye out for you. She's worried about you." At the mention of Nasira, his eyes softened, losing much of the emotion within them. His whole body seemed to fold in on itself as he stood there, quiet for a moment, thinking to himself.
"She... She really said she's worried about me?"
"She didn't say those words exactly, but I could tell from the way she spoke that she's concerned." It almost felt strange to comfort someone he could consider a rival. For, he already knew how Kaaf felt about Nasira, and now Altair himself could admit he was interested in her for sure.
Kaaf quickly returned to his indignant tone, as he looked at the taller man's face once more. "Why even bother telling me? You're the one who stole her away from me, why would you care about bringing me back?" Stealing her away? He couldn't possibly know how Altair felt. Then... Did that mean he was referring to something Nasira had said? Could it be that she'd spoken about him to her friends? If Nasira was talking about him, perhaps she was thinking of him just as he thought of her.
Trying not to get his hopes up over a simple comment, Altair couldn't help but feel even more eager to return to Masayaf. He still had one more night however, and half a day of travel. He'd be going a bit slower, now that he'd likely have to bring Kaaf along with him.
While Altair was thinking of his return, Kaaf had continued to babble in irritation, Altair having ignored his questions. He stopped speaking in a huff, giving up on the other man responding. Only then realizing who exactly he'd been angrily ranting to and feeling the slightest bit nervous. Altair however hadn't even heard him and simply gestured at the other side of his campsite. Briefly telling Kaaf that they would be returning to Masayaf first thing in the morning, leaving no room for Kaaf to refuse.
Leaves billowed on the trees, a few falling from the branches in the brief gust of wind. The warm afternoon sun bore down on the small village, bathing the residents in it's light. People walked the streets, crowding around the market, a new stall with prices lower than all the rest drawing them in. How this new merchant could afford such low prices, Nasira wasn't sure, but that wouldn't stop her from taking advantage of them.
Nasira was out, running a few errands and she'd been lucky enough to find the stall early. When they were a little less crowded, she'd swooped in and snatched as many deals as she could. It almost felt like stealing. But, just as she'd paid for her items, the crowd started moving in. It became near impossible to maneuver out of the frey. She was jostled back and forth by the greedy market goers, pushed around, until finally she made it out of the crowd. Unfortunately, that last person she'd passed had pushed her a little too forcefully.
Stumbling forward, she could feel herself careening toward the ground, face first on the dirt. Before she hit the ground, however, a firm hand grasped her arm, keeping her upright. The feeling of being jerked to a stop all of a sudden, a single shoulder straining to halt her full body weight, still hurt quite a lot though. She would definitely be feeling that in her shoulder later.
Looking up at her would be savior, she found a tall, well built man, hood covering his face, hiding half his features in shadows. But the shadows did nothing to hide his sly smirk. "Would you mind joining me for a walk?" Judging from his tone and how he hadn't released her arm, he wasn't so much asking, as he was insisting. Well, so much for relaxing during the rest of her day off.