"I believe it's time for you to get some rest Altair," Malik advised relenting, seeing as Altair didn't seem willing to. He saw Altair's eyes half open and looked as though he was about ready to fall asleep where he sat and yet, hadn't taken it upon himself to get up to return to his room. "Seeing as your the Mentor now, you should consider moving into Al Mualims' old room."

"Allah, no." Altair scoffed with disgust. "I don't need another room. You're also the Mentor, why haven't you moved into it?" He argued, annoyed and slightly more awake.

"You know as well as I do, you've been the one made to be Mentor. You freed the people from our Mentor, you defeated our Mentor and you were the one to calm those that rioted against you after Abbas stole the Apple. When you are focused and passionate about something, you have a talent to persuade people and make them see reason." Malik explained.

"It takes more than being persuasive to be a good leader. It takes planning, being perspective, and organizational skills. All things you have because you were the Dai of Jerusalem." He argued.

"You're the Mentor's son and as much as I would have once hated to admit it. You've had more successes at your age than most could have in a lifetime." Malik countered.

"I am not his son!" Altair grew angry, heat in his voice.

"Calm Altair. We are not arguing about this." Malik calmed his expression. "You and Abbas were still raised by him. I have skills you lack just as you have skills I lack. This is why we have been able to work well together and why I agreed to help you when those of us agreed you would be fit to lead the Assassins... I understand... you are tired, you are well within your right to be tired, ever since you were made the Assassin rank, you were sent on one mission after another and when you saved Al Mualim's life, he promoted you to Master Assassin and he worked you like a horse, giving you even harder missions." Malik started.

"For the last four years, you've not been given a moment's rest and I believe you are feeling the pressure of that. Which is why you have an opportunity to rest and relax now." He concluded.

"You expect me to relax when we're on the brink of war with a faction of Assassins we had no idea existed, all because I'm in possession of the Apple?!" He argued, awake and alert once more.

"Calm…" Malik said sternly. Altair did have a strange ability to find the inner strength to fight when he seemed on the brink of collapse. Only a moment ago, he looked as though he'd fall asleep speaking and now he looked as though he had a full day's rest. "Even if we agreed… Which I do not…" He made it clear, in case Altair wanted to play coy and saw Altair take a breath to calm his anger, looking away before returning his gaze to him.

"That we agreed, it would be a good idea for you to travel to Alamut tomorrow or a week from now, to tell them what you know of the Apple, to give them the Apple or to explain why you wish to keep the Apple. There is nothing to say these Assassins can be reasoned with. They know much more about us than we do about them and as such, they may not wish to let you keep the Apple, they may not be trusted to have the Apple. They may wish to wage war simply because they desire to. We must prepare to believe whatever the outcome will be, that we will be at war and much like any other mission you've been on, preparations to be at war will take time." He began.

"There is still a group of Novices that must make the rank of Assassin, we must stockpile supplies, we need to rebuild our defenses, we must change our tactics, we must fortify the city, and countless other things that need to be done. You taking a day, week, or even a month to rest will not delay the things that must be done. For you to be at your best, you will need rest and currently, you are not at your best. You are being stubborn, you're frustrated, you're unfocused and you are resisting reason because you are exhausted." Malik explained.

Altair sighed, seeing Malik's point, shaking his head, not in disapproval but in frustration. "How does a man consort with the enemy and none of his Assassins know?" He questioned.

"We've already discussed this brother." He said sternly. "The Creed offers a blind faith."

"Did he ever leave the Castle? Meet in private with anyone that no one knew who they were?" He asked, turning his palms up confused.

"Altair…" He sighed, the only thing that didn't seem to change about Altair was his stubbornness, once his mind was focused on something, it was very hard to sway it. He gave the question some thought for a moment. "No… not when I was around… though, he did have a strange tendency to lock himself in his room for nearly a week at times," Malik recalled.

"What do you mean?" Altair asked, leaning forward. For the last four years, he had been away from Masyaf, the most time he had spent home was after he killed Al Mualim, the month before leaving for Cyprus suddenly.

"He called it deep meditating... it is the ultimate way of reaching enlightenment. To deprive the body of food, water, and distraction, this way, one would find the answers they sought. He always did like reading all sorts of religious texts, I suspected he was trying to do the same thing Muhammad did. I heard him encouraging others to do the same but warned of severe punishments if he was disturbed during these times. That he didn't care what urgency was needed, that we were Assassins and could sort it out ourselves or wait till he was done. I think I remember him spending four or five days in his room but didn't pay much mind to it at the time, only obeying not to disturb him, as did everyone else." He shrugged, watching Altair get up. "Where are you going?"

"To his room." He claimed, making his way back up the garden and into the fortress. Al Mualim's room was up two sets of stairs, down a hall on a floor that no one else used, as such the halls were unlit and he borrowed a torch from a lower floor. In his haste to get up the stairs, Malik's robe fell from his shoulders, being mindful to catch it and bring it with him till he could hand it back. Malik wasn't far behind him, entering the room as he was lighting the wall lights. Once again, Altair peered around the room, looking for anything that would seem out of the ordinary, the problem was, the room itself was out of the ordinary. If redesigned, the room could house four private Master Assassin rooms or two rather large ones.

"Look at this mess. It's as if he stripped the castle of all its luxuries and hoarded them all in this room." Altair commented. The room held a fine layer of dust, having picked up a silver cup to examine and tossed it back on the table, it making a metallic ring before falling silent.

"Altair," Malik said disapprovingly. "What do you hope to find in the middle of the night that we didn't find in the light of day over a year ago?" He asked, placing his right hand on his hip, watching Altair walk over to the gated window, testing its strength.

"Do you think the old man was fit enough to scale the walls?" He asked, absentmindedly.

"Perhaps? You would know. You fought him." He answered, unamused. "Enough of this Altair. Why do you resist the urge to sleep?"

"I do not resist sleep." He glared, placing Malik's robe on the table, and walked over to the bookcase, opening a book, quickly looking through the pages before trying another, again.

Malik took a long pause, pressing his lips thin. "You are. Is it because of the girl?" He questioned and then remembered. "Where does she sleep?" He added, hearing Altair sigh and watching him put back the book.

"No." He stated, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew where this conversation was going and knew Malik was going to have some fun with it again. "She's in my room." He admitted, looking away.

"So you have bedded her?" He joked, of course taking the opportunity to playfully annoy Altair, knowing that if Altair saw the same opportunity, he would. Only he rarely seemed to get a chance to or preferred to bite his tongue.

"No… We-" He was interrupted by Malik's laughter.

"You've made her sleep on the floor?" He lifted his chin, clearly amused.

"No. We-" He locked his jaw, growing angry at being interrupted again.

"Does she make you sleep on the floor?" He continued, knowing he was likely pushing Altairs' limit, purposely interrupting him.

"Malik!" He huffed.

"And this is why you need to rest Altair, you are far too easy to instigate." He mused. "But I will relent, go on and speak." He calmed his amusement and watched Altair try to tame his anger. "So you in fact share the bed?"

"Yes. We sleep back to back." He answered, annoyed. "Though, I did offer to rest on the floor." He relented, looking away again.

He scoffed amused. "And you are comfortable?" He asked seriously.

"Yes..." He answered, getting distracted by another book.

Malik rolled his eyes, seeing Altair losing focus again. "So why are you not able to sleep?"

"I have slept." He argued while looking at the contents of the book.

"Clearly not enough. Focus, Altair." He demanded, "In seriousness. You should consider taking his room." He suggested again.

"I. don't. need. another room." He emphasized. "I should be no different than everyone else of my rank."

"But. you. do." Malik mimicked. "It is… admirable that you've humbled yourself enough to want to be seen as equals with your fellow peers but... you are no longer the rank of Master Assassin, you are The Mentor, you are a leader and as such, there are certain things that leaders must have about them." He began to explain.

"I can still be a leader and not have to dress in fancy garb and have fancy things." He argued, placing the book back on the shelf and crossing his arms again.

"If you wish to be treated as an equal from your fellow peers, you leave yourself open to being criticized and allowing them to question why they, themselves can't be a Mentor." Malik continued.

"As they should have the right too." He argued. "It was blind faith that allowed Al Mualim to do the things he did because no one questioned it."

"No. They should not be allowed to question you." He sighed, "You still fail to see the bigger picture. If you allow them to question your leadership and undermine your choices, you will leave yourself open for another Assassin rebellion against you. You are not Al Mualim, those that have faith in you know you are not Al Mualim. If you do not take this role seriously, the next to try and take control of the Order will be Abbas, as he sees it as his given right, having also been raised by our former Mentor." He explained, seeing Altair's expression calm and that look of exhaustion return to him.

"He has already tried," Malik added, seeing this drew Altair's attention back to him and not the floor he had been looking at. "The only reason he failed to take control is that you have a very loyal following. Our elders have faith in you and have faith in us. You've already proven you have leadership capabilities by what you've accomplished in Cyprus. We all realize it might take you a moment to find your footing and no one expects you to become an avid leader by tomorrow. These things also take time and you'll need rest to start thinking properly."

"I am not arguing." He stated, to make it clear. "But if anyone else here should be fit to lead, it should be you. You were the Dai of Jerusalem, you were there when we took back Masyaf and you've already led the Creed for over a year while I was in Cyprus. Abbas should not be the next in line to lead, we are not descendants of royalty. We are called Mentors, not Kings or Sultans." He argued.

"And this is why we will work well together but not everyone wishes to be as naive as you. They see this." He gestured to his left arm. "And they see an incompetent leader, someone who can't defend himself and is in need of constant aid," Malik explained.

"I am not naive! You are renowned for your swordsmanship. Had it not been for you and your men, distracting and keeping the others at bay, without killing those under Al Mualim's illusion no less. I would not have been able to face and defeat Al Mualim. You are not incompetent! and I will scold anyone who says otherwise." He argued, heat in his voice, becoming enraged at the idea people saw Malik as lesser of a person simply because he lost an arm.

"Calm Altair," Malik warned. "Unfortunately, that is not the reality of things and something I've come to accept. As such, it's important you adopt the role of Mentor."

"To hell with their reality! I'll make them see reason." He yelled.

"Altair. Take a breath and calm your anger. Don't let your emotions blind you." Malik scolded and waited for him to breathe before continuing. "It is not for you to defend my honor, I don't care what the others think. There will always be those who wish to be spiteful and we can't always allow their words to dictate our actions." He countered. "Again. I ask that you reconsider taking Al Mualim's room. Not only for status but if you want to humor the idea of the girl staying-"

"Maria." Altair reminded, still trying to calm his anger and have the fatigue set in again.

Malik rolled his eyes, having remembered but chose not to name her by name. "Maria... If you wish to humor the idea of her staying, neither of you will get much rest on a bed made for one."

"Does that mean you've considered letting her stay?" He asked. A bit surprised Malik would make a decision that quickly.

"No. There is still time for her to reveal her true intentions and despite you seemingly set in your own convictions, there is still time for her to hinder your better judgment," Malik concluded.

He was a bit disappointed but he expected as much. Malik would take everything into consideration and he was mostly glad Malik hadn't made a hasty decision. Looking around the room, he gave Maliks' earlier advice some thought. It was strange, the room felt filled with bad memories for him, despite only stepping foot in this room twice before. Once as a child and once a little over a year ago.

He remembered that time so vividly, how lonely he felt after his father was executed, living in the small house in the village. He had been left alone several times before when his father had gone on a mission but now, despite having been spared witnessing his father's execution and seeing his body. He remembered how desperately he cried out for him, not understanding why he was leaving to face an army alone and unarmed. He remembered pushing against Abbas' father Ahmad when he was held in place, having the horror dawn on him when they reclosed gates, leaving his father out there, alone.

When it was done, he was brought back to the fortress, still an emotional wreck. He remembered how he trembled and tears were still welling in his eyes when he was made to stand before Al Mualim, a man that, in that very moment, was scaring him half to death, unsure of what he had done but curtain he was in trouble. His father obeyed this man's every command and it was this man that commanded his father to step outside the gates.

He remembered being scolded for crying, that it was unbecoming of a son of an Assassin and a future Assassin himself. That his father was dead and he would be allowed a few days to grieve at home before someone came to collect him. When asked if he understood, all he could muster was a nod. At home, he knew his father would never return, and still, he had been left alone in that house for days, unsure what to really do with himself or what his future held. He simply waited for someone to come to collect him, which that statement in itself was vague. Collect him and go where? To do what? At that point, he could no longer cry and his reality no longer seemed real. His father was dead, so he was told but it didn't feel like it.

When he was woken to a sound in the middle of the night, in his sleepy haze, he had assumed it was his father returning from a mission. He was shocked to see it was Ahmad, who looked sickly and held a short blade. Ahmad was in tears, apologizing for what he had done to him and his father, and then ran the blade across his neck. In shock, he could still remember the sounds Ahmad made as he died, the smell of the blood pooling on the floor, and only when Ahmad had stopped breathing, laying still. That is when he came to his senses and sought to seek aid.

The only person he could think to run to was the Master. He knew the fortress well, remembering his father had shown him around a few times and there he stood. His eyes landed on a spot next to Al Mualim's bed. A spot he stood, being no older than eleven, shaking the Master awake. He remembered Al Mualims' startled expression before being scolded to speak calmly and clearly. When he explained again what happened, he remembered how agonizingly slow the old man walked back to his home and once he saw the display, how unamused and disgusted he seemed. He was then sworn to secrecy, that he must tell no one of what he saw, especially Abbas, for he would be shamed for this and he remembered agreeing.

At this moment, with how exhausted he felt, part of him wished he had listened. That, had he not told Abbas the truth about his father, he wondered if they might still be good friends. Abbas being one of the only friends he had ever made, growing close enough to call each other brother and in such a short time, how naive they were as children. That same night, Al Mualim had brought him to the novice quarters, to a room that held two beds. He was once again, left alone, and once again, he felt as before. He was lonely, tired, and felt as if his reality wasn't real. He didn't feel hunger or thirst, only empty.

He remembered it wasn't till later that afternoon that he woke to the door opening to see Abbas enter and was told he would sleep here. Abbas was rather excited to see him and excited to be there. Claiming that it was exciting to finally be training to become Assassins and that he'd make his father proud when he returned. He remembered he hadn't been in the mood to speak and was partly confused, having not realized or told that was why he was placed in this room. Abbas' mood felt infectious and took his mind off the events that had transpired the days before.

He had something to look forward to, training to become an Assassin was exciting and while he was hesitant to do much that day, Abbas dragged him to get dinner. It was then, he realized how incredibly hungry he was and enjoyed Abbas' company. It was a shame that joy would only last a few months, the longer Abbas' father was 'away' the sadder Abbas became, feeling abandoned, and hoping to bring solace to Abbas like he once had to him. He told Abbas the truth, but Abbas had said nothing and didn't believe it. It would later the next day, in an emotional rage, Abbas would try to kill him in the training ring, forcing him to admit what he said was a lie.

They both grew up shamed for it, Abbas shamed for what his father did and him being labeled as a liar, members unsure what to really believe and that his word could not be trusted. Thinking about them now, they couldn't stand the sight of one another. Abbas would have a way with words and be rather spiteful but he was no better, often flaunting, bragging, and proving his successes. He sought out to be the best and almost achieved it. He could remember all these things in such vivid detail and yet, still only felt empty, feeling as though it wasn't real.

Malik became mildly concerned and waved his hand low to grab Altairs' attention. "Are you alright?" He asked, tilting his head.

He had seen Altair look around the room in thought but saw his eyes land on an area near the bed and remain there for some time. Curious, he had looked over the area himself, to see what had seemed to catch his focus. When he couldn't find anything he turned back to see Altair seemingly still staring at the same place, looking rather blank but when he waved, he saw it caught Altair's attention, looking at his hand before meeting his gaze.

"Yes.' He took a deep breath, having been pulled out of his thoughts, and remembered what they had been discussing. "I do not want this room, I do not want these things, this room is built for a Sultan, I will grow bitter sleeping here." He admitted and sighed, annoyed.

Malik sighed but he did see Altairs' point and had noticed it too. It seemed strange, for the man to preach about them being simplistic and how going without luxury made them stronger men. Yet, looking at this room, a room they had been forbidden to enter or even knock against, the old man seemed to have every luxury possible. Even Altair, being as arrogant as he was at the time, took it a step further in his discipline. He had seen Altairs room recently and before, he didn't even have a pillow to rest his head on and the sheet he had would offer him very little warmth come the colder season but given how little time Altair spent at Masyaf, part of him now wondered if that had been intentional.

"Then another room perhaps?" He suggested one coming to mind immediately because he, himself, rather liked it. "How about Al Mualims' private study? The room is smaller, it's closer to the middle of the castle and has a balcony that overlooks the garden. I've been out there a few times, even if the garden is busy since we don't normally let our voices carry, it's peaceful. It would be a good place for you to meditate in private. Leave a few of the shelves for storage and place a double bed, I'm sure it could be made quite homely." He theorized.

Altair sighed defeated, Malik would not relent on this topic, despite being happy in his current room. Though admittedly, the room did sound sort of nice, however moving several of the book selves out and bringing in a bed sounded exhausting and not something he could do himself. "I... do not have the energy to want to arrange a new room," he admitted, the idea alone made him want to sleep where he stood and yawned.

"Then if you are in agreement, I will take care of the arrangements," Malik stated, taking his robe back from the table and pulling it on.

That statement shocked him back to his senses. "Malik no... you don't need to." He discouraged, the idea of Malik or anyone, in general, doing something for him made him highly uncomfortable.

He had always expected and even demanded things be done for him before his demotion. Expecting novices to get the information on his targets, feeling it was a waste of his time and talents to gather the information himself and made them do various other things. A trait he was almost sure he picked up from Al Mualim himself, having seen him demand others get him food and drink so he could be consumed in his books or work. Once he was made a novice again, he found he enjoyed walking amongst the people and gathering the information himself. Being forced to rely on little to no equipment forced him to think of alternative ways to get his task done, sharpening and perfecting the skills he already had, making him far more efficient than he once was. Something, he wondered if he should try to later force upon others or maybe make the training requirement longer.

"I don't." Malik agreed. "But I'm sure the novices will enjoy having a task to do." He mused, and walked over to a very uncertain-looking Altair and placed his right hand on Altair's left shoulder. "Learn to ask for help when you need it and seek advice from your elders when you want it. Our elders might have some information you didn't realize you wanted nor will you be made to do this alone. This is why I agreed to help you when you expressed being unsure of where to start." He encouraged.

The look of uncertainty didn't leave his face, meeting Malik's gaze for a moment before looking at the floor. "Alright." He agreed, a little unsure what to do with himself and the exhaustion overtaking his features again.

"Go get some rest Altair." He advised again. "Go sleep in my room." He added.

"I can return to mine." He resistated.

"No, you can't. Regardless if you trust her or not, I believe you'll get more rest if you are left alone." Malik suggested.

"And what of you? Where will you sleep?" He argued, once again, being brought back to a level of alertness in his resistance.

Malik grew annoyed, rolling his eyes at the level of stubbornness his man had. "I went to sleep not long after I said I had something else to do, as I was tired. Why are you being this stubborn?"

Altair huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his back against the bookshelf that sat against the wall. His eyes opened wide when the bookshelf seemed to fail to support his weight and tried to push himself off to not fall with it. Malik was equally surprised, quickly grabbing one of the shelves and stepping on the bottom shelf to help counterbalance it before Altair could help secure it in place. They both looked at one another at the realization before Altair pulled the bookcase away from the wall.

"There's an entrance to another room." He stated, seeing the opening being blocked by cloth on the other side. He quickly went over to grab the torch he had lit wall lights with and carefully pushed back the fabric to reveal another large study.

"Cleaver," Malik commented, entering the room after him, watching Altair light another wall lamp and he scanned the even dustier room. "It would make sense… the room is fit for a Sultan, it should have occurred to us there would be an attached room."

"There must be twenty years' worth of writing here? Maybe more?" Altair added, bringing the light over to the elaborately designed desk. There held a large book and chest. Once again, he placed the torch in one of the empty holders before returning to the small chest to open it. Inside held several items of jewelry, necklaces for both men and women, earrings, and rings. "I think he wanted to be a Sultan."

"Sultan of the Assassins…" Malik commented, finding clothing rich in texture before looking over at Altair.

"I knew I'd find this somewhere." He said disgustedly, showing Malik the golden Templar ring before tossing it to spin on the desk. Looking over the desk his eyes focused on the large book, opening it to a random page and taking a seat in the armchair.

Having seen that, Malik walked over in haste, taking the cover and slamming it closed. Closing the book had made a louder sound that even he didn't expect, which visibly made Altair jump, likely more out of the sudden action than sound. He rested his hand on the book, keeping it closed, and looked at Altair with a very serious demeanor. "No."

"No?" He questioned, a little taken aback by Malik's change in demeanor.

"You are becoming delirious, you need to go and rest," Malik said adamantly.

"This is no hallucination! You expect me to sleep when we finally found what we were looking for?!" He argued.

"Yes. Exercise some restraint and get some rest. This will all be here tomorrow when you are well-rested." Malik argued back and when he was met with a defiant glare he continued. "Do not make me pull rank on you and order you to bed."

"Pull rank on me?" He wanted to laugh. "We are the same rank." He countered.

"I am the acting Mentor and if you want to treat me as your equal, you will obey my command," Malik ordered.

Altair looked down at the book Malik was keeping shut, drawing his lips back into a thin line, wondering how everyone seemed capable of using his own words against him. He wasn't intentionally trying to be defiant but he was a Master Assassin and Mentor that didn't need to be told by another to go to sleep. Perhaps Malik was seeing something he wasn't, he was tired but he was still capable of rational thought and actions or so he assumed. When Malik snapped his fingers twice, having not looked up, his eyes met Malik's now more intimidating glare. It would take more than a glare to intimidate him but he was also aware Malik was running out of patience and that was a more intimidating thought. After everything he's done to Malik and his family, angering him was something he tried avoiding.

"Why are you resisting." He demanded, growing impatient. If he was right, from what Altair had told him, Altair would be starting to enter a dangerous state of mind if this went on any longer.

It was one of the more grueling tests they had to endure to become an Assassin. It wasn't necessarily a test to try and one-up one another but to make yourself aware of what your limits were in a controlled environment instead of pushing yourself to an unknown limit on a mission because consequences could be catastrophic.

Assassins would be made to run an obstacle course several times throughout the day. Given random information that they would have to remember, be allowed to eat, drink and sit in between breaks. Told to run the obstacle course another way. Set to spare with someone, win or lose and then make them stand still all night. Come morning, the Assassin had to tell the Master what they were made to remember, and then they were made to start it all again with new information. Everyone did this until they passed out, the goal is to see how long you could ensure going without sleep and how effective you were the longer you went without it.

Every Assassin had their own limits but while some would simply pass out at a point, others would start to see things that weren't there, which made them a danger to themselves and others. Temperaments would flare and emotions easily ran out of control the longer this went on, despite one's best control. This was why when a novice was tested, they were supervised by others to make sure they didn't cheat by sleeping and to keep them safe. This would be done at least three times for consistency and then the Assassin in question could review the results. Allowing them to be aware of their limits and see if something could be improved upon. Altair, himself, and two others ranked amongst the highest in their group. The average was among four to five days where he and the others averaged between five to seven. However, Al Mualim was disappointed, claiming he could have done nine easily, which only made some of them push harder, including himself.

However, Altair was showing a lot of the signs they would all go through, quick switching temperaments, loss of focus, forgetting things, switching between topics, easily distracted, it wouldn't surprise him if Altair had started seeing things as he was staring at nothing a moment ago and now seemed very unfocused again. His expression was blank, his eyes simply looking up at him while developing a nervous tick. Altair's thumb scratching at his left hand, that he was sure Altair wasn't unaware he was doing, otherwise he wouldn't be doing it at all. "Speak, Novice." Malik ordered.

Altair breathed and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest, unamused. "I don't want to relive my past." He admitted, looking away.

"You refuse to sleep because of night terrors? Are you a child?" Malik belittled, sparing Altair the worst of his venom.

"They are not terrors." He corrected.

"You are not justifying your statement." Malik countered. "Do you see how ridiculous you're being?" He stated, pulling himself back and placing his right hand on his hip.

"I try to sleep but my mind seems to keep wandering back to past events. I can't stop it and I'm trying to exhaust myself to the point it won't matter." He stated, trying to reach that point he had earlier where he had simply laid his head down and had unintentionally, quickly fallen asleep.

"You're playing a dangerous game by doing that. Do you not remember what happened during training? You're going to drive yourself mad." He warned.

"Then what would you suggest I do?" He asked, frustrated.

"Return to your training. Go lay down, meditate and focus on your breathing." Malik advised. "If that does not put you to sleep, then the healers have a drink that will make you sleep half a day." He added trying to give Altair a new focus.

He couldn't fault Altair too much. Altair was already stressed, which when not dealt with properly, made men do strange things, and now coupled with how exhausted he must be, it made illogical things seem logical. Unfortunately, he himself was no stranger to it. When Altair left for Cyprus, he was enraged, having to try and sort through the Creeds dealings himself but had managed, it was no different than being the Dai of Jerusalem, only much bigger. When Alamut got involved and he almost started a war, somehow by the grace of God managed to secure his men and come up with a suitable exchange but he knew it was a lie.

At the time, he had no idea where Altair had put that stupid item nor did he have any intentions of giving it up but he also knew it was only a matter of time before the other Assassins figured that out. He cursed Altair's name for not being there to help with this dilemma. He wanted to summon him back but having no Assassin settlements there, trying to relay information to Altair at the time was impossible. Stressed and knowing they would go to war, despite his quarrel with him, who better to turn to than his father Faheem, who was infamously known as the War hawk of Masyaf. Much to his surprise, his father calmed his nerves and now Altair was experiencing something very similar but unlike himself, Altair had no one... but him who was willing to try and keep him grounded.

"You're right." Altair admitted, after a bit of thought and shaking his head at himself. "Sorry. This can wait." He agreed, pushing himself up. "But-"

"No." Malik stopped, hearing the annoyed grunt, as he went about extinguishing the wall lights. He didn't care what excuse Altair was going to come up with now to delay his sleep.

"We should keep this room between us." He continued.

"You too, would keep secrets from our brothers?" Malik questioned, waving his hand to shoo Altair from the room.

"No, but I want to study the Apple, this would be a good place to try and safely do that. It's secluded, no one but us seems to know of it and it's away from the others." He suggested.

"Fine, we'll discuss that more later." Malik agreed, pushing the bookcase back in place, looking as it did before. Leaving the lights in the room on, he escorted Altair to his room, much to what looked like Altair's annoyance.

"I can be trusted to go to your room." He commented, annoyed.

"Good. But you forget I must go this way too." Malik added, it being a half-truth, he watched Altair reach his door and hesitate. It was a bit strange for an Assassin to use someone else's room but these were strange circumstances and he would encourage Altair not to delay or rethink the action.

"Rest well, I'll see that you're not disturbed," Malik added, seeing Altair reluctantly nod and stepping inside before closing the door. With that, he passed through the doors that led to the library, the ones on the opposite side to where Altair's room was.

Entering the room, he noticed Malik had left a candle safely burning on the shelf and he rested his back against the door for a moment. He was starting to get a headache and he still didn't quite like the idea of using Malik's room before he pushed himself off the door and took a seat on the unmade bed, clasping his hands together while resting his arms on his legs and looking around. Malik had more things in his room than he expected. A shelf half full of scrolls and books. Malik's sword and belt rested against the table. The table had another map of Masyaf on it, it seemed cartography was something Malik enjoyed doing because he seemed to do it in his spare time. The bed looked to have a fairly nice blanket and two pillows. Remembering what Maria had done on the ship, he absentmindedly ran his hand under the bed before stopping himself. He didn't want to intentionally snoop through Malik's belongings and he doubted there would be anything of interest if he tried, otherwise he'd have not been offered the room.

Licking his finger and thumb, he got up and extinguished the flame of the candle before sitting back on the bed. He looked outside the arrow slit window, seeing it was still dark with no sight of the sun waking from its sleep. He wished he had paid attention to the candles in the library when he passed through there earlier, it would have given him an idea of how late it was but he took a breath and sighed annoyed, cleaning his feet before forcing himself to lay down.

This only made him that much more painfully aware of his surroundings as he tried to make himself comfortable. It felt strange to be in a foreign room, the left side of his back burned from the injury, and his headache only made itself that much stronger. He was fairly certain he was feeling hungry now but he would focus on what Malik told him, to lay down, meditate and focus on his breathing. He did just that, perhaps he had managed to exhaust himself enough to keep his thoughts at bay because it felt like it didn't take him long to feel his head list to one side before being brought back to a sense of awareness. Ideally, one shouldn't be falling asleep in a stage of meditation, as it was a means to focus oneself on a problem or to bring clarity but given the point was to relax and fall asleep, resting his hands on his stomach, he eventually allowed himself too.

With Altair hopefully planning on getting some rest, Malik set out to do what was agreed upon. He stationed one novice to watch the hall, telling him, if Altair should leave, that he was to come and find him. Then he took four others and set out to clear the old study. The book was stacked in the library by the desk he worked at to be sorted later and in Al Mualims' old room, he made sure no one got near the hidden door. However, Al Mualim's bed was the biggest available and brought down a floor to the new room. With some new bedding and an entirely new carpet to lay on, he hoped Altair wouldn't dwell on the fact it was the former Mentor's old bed, unsure how sentimental Altair might feel about it and at worst, something he would have to get over.

It didn't take them too long to sort through the change, by the time it was done, he suspected a little under two hours had passed and the sky was just starting to turn a dark blue. When it was done, the bed was made, each side had its own blanket and one large one at the foot for the colder nights. Both had two pillows each and on the edge of the bed holding a small table on either side. As much as he didn't like the idea, he was mindful to design the room for two people, knowing that the likelihood was unless Maria decided she would rather leave, that she would be staying. She already seemed rather keen to find her place here and he hadn't sensed any ill intentions from her yet, nor would he over-step and make her feel unwelcomed. Altair felt she would make a good ally and he'd humor the idea, be it for good or bad.

The old carpet that once lined the bed was now cleaned and sat on the floor under the bed. Over the windows were two Assassin banners, left open to let in the air and light. On the opposite side of the room lay a table to work at with two chairs, one on either side. Next to it, two empty shelves for whatever they might like to store on it, and lastly, by the door to enter lay an area for them to place their gear and any extra clothing. With that done, he extinguished the lights in the room and returned to the library to sort through the books. He was both interested and disinterested in learning what had interested Al Mualim in keeping his own private collection of books and wondered what value they held to him. Some were teaching sources and others were works of fiction, which he seemed mildly interesting till he grew bored and found other ways to occupy his time.

Maria never felt Altair rise and when she was rested enough to wake, she turned over, she was surprised to see him gone. Looking out the window she saw it was light out but questioned why all his gear was still there. Did he get up simply to relieve himself and was planning to come back? She wondered and waited after she stretched. When he didn't make a timely return, she got up and put on her boots, leaving the room and going to the library.

It was late morning, a lot later than he expected Maria to sleep but he didn't know her nor did he know what time of night Altair had originally decided to go back to bed. He placed down the report he had been reviewing from an Assassin that had just returned from their mission. "Good morning." He stated neutrally.

"...Good morning." She answered after a pause, scanning the area, looking for Altair. "Do you know where Altair is?"

"I do... I require your help if you don't mind." He asked, putting down the piece of parchment and pushing himself up.

"Certainly." She agreed and was surprised he'd ask her to help him. "What do you require?"

"His robes and boots. I'm sure he'd appreciate being able to dress when he wakes." He asked, walking back towards Altair's room. Naturally, if he had both his hands, he'd do it himself and it was nice to see she didn't seem to protest to it.

She nodded and followed him back, opening the door and placing all his folded items under her left arm, and picking up his boots in the other before pausing. "Should I take his waist belt?"

"No, he can come back to his room and equip himself," Malik stated, he was already paying Altair too much kindness by bringing him his clothing so he didn't have to walk across the castle in just his pants to get back to his own room. Appearances meant a lot to people, even if not to some, or the person themselves. Altair had just returned from being gone over a year and wasn't making the best impression already.

"But it holds… a trinket. Is it safe to leave it unsupervised?" Maria asked, keeping it vague, unsure of how well they could trust their other Assassin but figured if anyone were to be trusted, it would be Malik, otherwise, he'd not have been made a secondary leader.

"A trinket?" Malik asked, confused before it dawned on him. "So he keeps it with him." He thought, finding it interesting that she was aware of where it was and foolish of Altair to keep it so close to him. "Yes, that too." He decided, it was unlikely for anyone to be looking for it but if someone were too, no one but him, one novice and soon to be Maria, would know that Altair was currently sleeping in his room and not his own.

"Do you think I've upset him?" Maria wondered, holding Altair's boots in her left hand and taking the belt in her right.

"Do you think you've upset him?" He questioned, curious as to why she was under that impression.

"He sleeps elsewhere? Perhaps I shifted too much in my sleep or made a sound?" She questioned, knowing that he woke up by her taking a deep breath on the ship the other morning.

"He sleeps elsewhere because I told him too when I saw he was awake again. He'll be fine after he allows himself to rest." Malik tried to reassure her as he escorted her to his room. When he stood in front of his door, he motioned to be quiet by placing a finger to his lips. It had been at least a little over six hours since they last spoke, which was about how long most of them slept before getting up and becoming active, so he wouldn't feel too bad if he unintentionally woke Altair by opening the door.

As he silently opened the door, he could see Altair's back was to them, partly under the blanket. He hadn't turned over, which meant he hadn't woken him yet and if Altairs was in the same shape he was in when he passed out after the rebellion, he'd likely require a few more hours to fully recover. He took the belt from her, placing it on the chair, then his boots, putting them by the door, and then his robes, placing them on top of the belt before taking the time to silently close the door. He gave her a nod of thanks before walking back towards the library and looking back when he heard her lightly panting. "Were you holding your breath?" He questioned.

"Yes, weren't you?" She asked.

"Why on earth were you holding your breath?" He stopped, putting his hand on his hip and facing her.

"He sleeps lightly, I've woken him before by taking a deep breath the other morning." She said confused, figuring this was part of their training and why Malik had been cautious to open the door silently in the first place.

"He does not sleep that lightly." Malik dismissed. "I could slam a book down on the table next to him and he'd still sleep." He concluded but he had been cautious, remembering that he opened his door earlier to him waking, which had surprised him.

It was one of the things that angered him most about Altair. When Altair greeted him with safety and peace after his demotion and he told him his presence there deprived him of both, he meant it. The idea Altair could break every tenant the Creed held, almost cost them the 'Templar Treasure', got his brother killed because of his arrogance, and consequently cost him his left arm. Then when Altair was finally met with some consequences to his actions, his life or the life of Kadars, he was satisfied till Altair had somehow survived a deadly strike to the side and was then, simply demoted to novice and sent on a mission to redeem himself. To take nine lives in exchange for his.

This had enraged both his father and him, voicing their disapproval but ultimately, who were they to question the Mentor further. He was promoted to Dai of Jerusalem, which was a rather honorary position, essentially being the Mentor of the Assassin dealing of that entire city, only having Al Mualim himself to answer to and no others. Still, it brought him little satisfaction when Altair made his way into his city after he claimed the life of Tamir in Damascus. He was still as arrogant as ever, expecting to be given information instead of doing his job and finding it himself, trying to manipulate him by saying he would do well to help him, as the death of Talal would benefit the land while denying that it also benefited him in getting his ranks restored.

When none of Altairs' tricks worked, he grew frustrated and was about to leave but it would do the Brotherhood no good having Altair blindly fumble about the city as he did and relented, giving areas for Altair to focus on, which was far too kind of him but, the sooner Altair got his job done, the sooner Altair could leave and safety and peace would return to him. However, thinking about it now, he might have been a little too harsh. The bureaus were designed as a sanctuary for the Assassins to safely work out of. A place to be for them to have shelter, food, water, and healing supplies.

Altair got little of that, it took him a few weeks to get all the information he needed to get permission to kill Talal but during that time, if Altair didn't have to be there, he made sure he wasn't, only allowing the novice to rest there at night. When he felt Altair had gotten enough rest, he'd spitefully and purposely make noise to wake him so he could tell him to get out. When that didn't work, he'd kick Altair's foot or whip a pillow at his face to get the desired result he wanted. If Altair was hungry, he was told to find food and unless he was gravely injured, he was told to find a healer. It took all his training not to want to abandon the Creed some days, to avenge Kadar by slaying Altair where he slept and put an end to the suffering Altair had caused him and his family.

He knew Altair bit his tongue a lot but he was surprised and mildly satisfied that Altair put up little resistance to it. Altair didn't complain and when Altair was shut down from conversing with him, he remained quiet unless the conversation was directly related to Talal. However, Altair's time there hadn't been unproductive it seemed. As time when on, talks reached his ears of a hooded man in white helping ordinary citizens, which given Altair was often the only active Assassin in that part of the city at the time, he still had a hard time believing it was he, who was responsible, as it was uncharacteristic of him to do such a thing. It was only when another novice came in, having lost two of the twenty banners he requested that he admitted, he had lost all of them to the wind and in his panic, Altair had taken it upon himself to find and retrieve them, managing to get eighteen.

When Altair had found enough information on Talal and was granted leave to collect his life, he still managed to screw it up in a rather spectacular fashion but fortunately or unfortunately, the job was done and when it was safe, he was told to leave. He wouldn't need to see Altair again for several months but given the rumors that floated around the city during the time Altair was here, he grew curious and contacted the other Dai's to see how Altair's missions had fared with them. Much like here, he hadn't changed much but they were curious to find out which brother it was that had been so helpful around the city because they were all certain, it couldn't have been Altair.

It seems neither of the other Dais' had been nearly as spiteful as he had been but the next time they had sent messages to one another was after Altair's second visit to Jerusalem when Al Mualim asked for the life of Majd Addin. Altair's demeanor had changed, being more respectful, asking rather than demanding information, and being grateful for the information provided. The other Dai's had joked, asking what he had done to cause Altair's change but were also mildly concerned that he seemed to question what he was doing. That, Al Mualim had asked for these lives but was questioning why rather than doing as told. During that time, much like before he didn't give Altair very many courtesies, only allowed him to sleep as long as he needed and allowed Altair to take it upon himself to leave to do his job.

"Perhaps he trusts you?" Maria suggested.

"Perhaps now he does but not before," Malik questioned, having been demoted back novice did seem to sharpen Altairs skill, and maybe it had also sharpened his awareness in his sleep, figuring in his arrogance, he ended up forsaking that part of his training after it was done.

"Before when?" She asked.

"It's not important…" Malik huffed. "I intend to go find food… Do you wish to join me?" He asked, knowing Altair likely hadn't shown her where to go yet.

"Alright…" She agreed, a little hesitant, and followed him. This was the other Mentor she was dealing with and she highly doubted he simply wanted her company. She followed him halfway into the village where they stopped at one of the few places that sold fresh food.

"If she comes here to get food, allow her to have it and send the message to the coin master," Malik told the store clerk, placing down coins to pay for both their meals and picking what he wanted.

"I have coins, I can pay for myself." She objected.

"No, you can't. You do not have the means to make more." Malik argued. "Accept the Creeds generously while you have it." He stated, taking a seat on a secluded bench.

Maria bit her tongue, she was still focused on trying to make a good impression. Even if she was still hinting at being undecided on whether she wanted to stay, she wanted time to learn more about them. Unsure what to have, she asked for the same thing he took and thanked them before joining him. "Are you sure you want to trust me with that power? I might run up a bill." She joked.

"And you'll be scolded for it later." Malik countered, she was playing coy and while he had a sense of humor, this wasn't the time for it. "I know Altair foolishly decided to give you time on deciding whether or not you wish to be a part of the Assassins. I will not give you this luxury so openly, the longer you wait, the more difficult it will become."

"Do the Assassins normally force people into service?" Maria asked, unamused, taking a seat near him.

"No, people either agree with our cause or they don't," Malik told. "I know you've only been here for a little under a day so I'll give you five days to decide. I won't let you toy with the Mentor's emotions any longer than that."

"That is a bold statement, you think Altair can be emotionally manipulated?" She asked, taking a bite of her food.

"You already have, be it intentional or unintentional. The fact that he's given you the option to choose and brought you here instead of being certain that the Assassins' cause is something you want to fight for when clearly, you still seem loyal to those you once served." Malik explained.

"I have no interest in rejoining the Templars."

"Yet you still boldly wear their ring." Malik accused, while eating his own meal.

She looked down at her ring, placing her thumb over the top of it. "You wouldn't understand."

"Then make me understand." Malik challenged.

She huffed. "You are Altair's second in command, are you not?"

"Yes… I am left in charge of the Order, should Altair not be able to." Malik answered.

"I was a similar rank. I was Robert's lieutenant, when he and Bouchart were busy conducting other matters, I was the one in control of making sure his troops stayed in line. That is what this ring symbolizes to me, that I once held power and respect despite being a woman. That I achieved something most women would dare not think to dream, let alone speak. Had I been born a man, I might have been the next Grandmaster." She explained.

"And you would have likely been the next to die," Malik commented, given Bouchart made the third Grandmaster worthy to be marked for death. He expected the next to be no different, they've all had the same goal so far, for a new world in their image.

"Not necessarily." Maria pressed her lips into a thin line. "While most like to believe the Assassins kill unjustly and if I wish to believe what Altair says, that they are killed for reasons most people simply do not understand. I joined the Templars because they were originally created to enlighten and protect the people. This was the honor and glory I sought, that I was made to believe and why I joined when Robert found out one of his best soldiers was in fact a woman. I don't know when the order became so corrupt... or if they were even as honorable as they claimed to be." She paused.

"...Just rantings of an old story, that they were honorable. Altair had tried to convince me otherwise and I ignored him because why would I trust the word of the man that was my enemy, keeping me captive and dragging me all over Cyprus for half a year in hopes I would be of some value to the Templars... much to his disappointment." She said spitefully.

"I would have commanded the Templars honorably, but that was just a fool's dream, the only reason I had power at all was because a man had said so. My ambitions allowed me to join a cause I thought I believed in, which was still an achievement itself. I keep my ring because it once meant something to me, a dream that never came true and a mistake I don't intend to make again." She concluded.

"Seems a bit naive," Malik commented, she seemed a bit more whimsical than he'd expect her to be.

"The same can be said about the Assassins, can it not?" She shot back. "Your whole Creed was blind to the fact your former Mentor had joined the Templars simply because no one had thought to question his intentions, except Altair... who told me, by doing so, the Mentor could have claimed his life because he was being too bold instead of blindly following his orders as he wished of his Assassins." She added.

"We are far too old to be this naive but we all have to grow up at some point. Even when the truth is not something we expected and why you are adamantly questioning Altair's and my intentions because you too, do not wish to make the same mistake twice." She pointed out.

"All the more reason you have five days to decide if the Assassin's is a place to truly wish to be and a cause you want to fight for," Malik repeated, having finished his meal.

"What if I already decided?" She lifted her chin proudly.

"Then you are as brash as Altair is. You don't think things through and fail to see the consequences of your actions." He dismissed.

"Really? As I see it, the Templar's goal is for order and enslavement, I don't see the Assassins killing them constantly because you lot are in agreement. This means, if I want to believe Altair, you fight for the freedom to choose, which is what I want. The freedom to be who I am, to prove I am more than what people see, and to enlighten those who foolishly underestimate me." She said determined, finding the same passion she once felt when joining the Crusaders.

"Then you can expect me to give you my answer in five days," Malik concluded, rising to his feet. "However, should I decide to let you stay and I discover or you later compromise the Creed in some way. Depending on the gravity of the situation, you will be treated as an Assassin and you will be made to face the same consequences as them. You will not be simply thrown out, if your punishment calls for your head, you will be executed. If Altair protests and doesn't have a valid enough reason to spare you, he too might face execution." Malik warned, glad to see she seemed to take his warning seriously by her expression.

"Then I shall do my best not to dishonor the Creed." She gave a faint smile.