Thank you Arika-Kuroi for following my story. Much is appreciated for your support for noticing my story. I'd like for you to continue to follow as we progress further into David's character and his purpose.
The Forgotten Reader: I would love to have more reviews from other reader's. Not that yours appreciated by me. I adore your reviews and yes, David will have to learn to speak the language. But I have something planned on the language barrier problem. And the main in the beginning of the last chapter is a very familiar figure throughout the assassin's creed games. Hint: He wants Desmond. :3
Subject: Specialist (ret.) David Webster
Location: Damascus, poor district
Alive and full of life was the area surrounding him. Alone and lost with only a hood to cover his face. Towering over the people who pass him by, some looking to David as if he were a monster. Guards within the city grew suspicious of the tall stranger who have come within the city walls. David felt a hidden instinct to move across the back alleyways out of the guard's sight. It is where the shadows hide the faces and the movements of the assassin's. The little training given to him by Al Mualim and the lesson's he was taught had come to use. The little knowledge he had within his memory had not overcome his duty as a former soldier.
'Follow the eagle.' The voice had whispered inside of David's mind. Instinct told him to look high above the rooftops. Soaring with grace with the wind lifting and guiding the bird, an eagle screeched loudly for only David's ears to hear. Guiding him away from danger and from enemies still unknown David moved through the streets like an unseen shadow. His tall stature and bigger build made him clumsy when he tried to move along side the crowd. His observant eyes could see guards beginning to walk towards him, only for the former soldier to quickly make haste in the shadows.
Where he was being lead only the eagle knew. When David felt lost within the streets or felt threatened, somehow the eagle would land somewhere on the rooftop and screech. The people around him seem to not notice the sound or the eagle that watches David with sharp golden-brown eyes. It's feather's brown with a dark gray head and talons so sharp even the blade of a sword could do nothing but glamor in it's beauty. David walked towards the animal with curiosity in each step and the eagle would open its wings and fly into the direction they needed to go.
David had followed the eagle for what seemed like an eternity. When the eagle had passed a building it had found a perch to land on and awaited for David to use the ladder that was within view. Walking towards the ladder David began to climb until he was on the roof. There the eagle once more screeched to a large opening within the roof. Down below he could see inside and with careful ease he placed his hands along the stone edge and hit the ground using his feet. Clenching his teeth from the heavy impact made from the bottom of his feet to his knees, the former soldier stood straight trying to gain back his balance. The pain was nothing new to his body and on missions in Afghanistan he and his soldier's would endure the pain that ached in their feet from miles of harsh terrain.
It was no wonder the heat hasn't even affected him. Being in another country helped him adapt as a soldier. The years he spent and the training he had endured...
"They have said many things about you, stranger." A voice brought David out of his musings. Leaning against the wall with an amusing smirk placed upon his lips a man dressed in black robes and an all knowing gaze stared straight at the former soldier. "The tall man from a land foreign to the English nations. A man who my master Al Mualim had sent to follow Altair like some shadow when you are nothing more than a novice following a blind novice." The man changed languages making David's eyes go wide.
"Y-you can speak my language?" David spoke through dry lips.
The man lightly chuckled at the shock of the foreign man.
"I can understand you. As a scholar we must know the many languages of foreign lands. But I consider myself to know more than my other brothers." He said with a hint of pride in his voice.
David felt his heart racing a mile a minute. His mouth went dry with his eyes observing the black dressed man before him. The Rafiq already knew why the man was within the bureau. It did not take long for word to spread rapidly like wildfire through the chain of assassin's that a man of foreign blood was making his journey with Altair to Damascus.
"You may have some questions that need to be answered, I hear. You want US to answer them, but the problem lies within the question. How you came here, where you are from, what you are to do? I cannot simply answer because it is such a complex one that is far beyond the knowledge to the brotherhood. As a Rafiq of the Damascus region, I cannot truly say." This man -this Rafiq- was truly wise for someone who just moments before had a look of mockery and dry humor. David could not help but keep himself silent as the Rafiq walked through the doorway.
Following behind him, David has noticed that this man was more than what he said he was. Handmade with delicate markings adorn from painstaking hours of work, the large room was filled with pottery. David has never seen such masterpieces before that were still new and not something old in a museum. This truly amazed the former soldier but something bothered him.
"What is a Rafiq?" David asked the question looking to one of the many pottery vases on the table.
"A Rafiq is a teacher, a contact for which an assassin visiting my city has to come too in order to get my permission to kill his target. We are not assassin's but we are more scholars and men of knowledge. I am aware you have seen such men in Masayf." He said painting on side of an almost finished set.
"Your master has spoke of it. Told me little of the assassin's, but it doesn't take much to understand that the men, such as Altair, kill. For what reason I don't know." This was the most David has ever said to anyone. It felt almost nice not having to hide behind his thoughts. Though the former soldier could not let his guard down now. He was still on alert and always observant. The Rafiq noticed this right aware but said nothing about it.
"You live among the assassin's as an outsider. Your stature, as it may be, has made many aware of your brute like quality. Al Mualim and the other assassin's have whispered of your training. You do not seem to be improving much as Altair himself must remember our creed. As expected of a novice you must know of our creed." The Rafiq placed down paint brush on the table. A face that once showed a smirk was drawn in a fine line. David could fill the room grow with tension.
"I will give you a task that only a novice can complete. You will have to know the poor district before you move on to the middle and higher classes. Your tasks is to find an informant hiding somewhere in the market. He is made aware of your presence and if you are caught or seen, you must know where to hide or blend. The assassin's trained you in blending and hiding, swordsmanship, and climbing walls." The Rafiq continued as David was silent. Doubt seemed to be crossing the former soldier's mind.
"Does this informer speak my language?" David spoke for what seemed like eternity. His mouth was dry and cracked just slightly giving away emotion that David has been keeping in the back of his mind. The Rafiq found this to be intriguing for someone of David's stature.
"It would be best if you leave now, before the sun sets. Information such as the one given to you will only be around for a certain time. The informants do not like to be kept waiting." The Rafiq went back to painting until something crossed his mind. "Before you depart on your quest, be weary. Altair does not like to be caught in the business of novices." With that being said David walked out of the large pottery room. The opening to the rooftop was where he had got in and is where he shall leave. To the former soldier's mind, it would be best to leave from where he came in. He knew assassin's where silent people. Leaving through the same opening like a calming wind.
Through the streets he walked for hours on end; searching, wandering, keeping away from heavy crowds. David walked the poor streets of the lowest class. The language here was strong making the former soldier now used to hearing it. The market place was as busy during the midday with stares and astonishment at David as he walked through the streets. The people here were not afraid of the lighter skinned man when he passed through crowds with his eyes string at the fresh food or seeing something of interests. No one could say where or what he is doing in the poor distract, but the guards kept their eyes firm on him. Not for his tall stature or his skin color, but it was the robes.
As he pushed on away from the prying eyes of the people, David found himself a bench. Sitting down he buried his face in the palm of his hands. Taking a deep breath the former soldier had to stop and think. He had to get the process that he was training under scrutiny. Every small mistake, every sound, every breath could mean his death here in the crusades. Finding a way back home was not going to be easily answered as the assassin's keep something hidden from him. David did not want to become one of the people. He has had his training, but something like this? Something that requires much more skill that David has never seen.
He took in a deep breath trying to calm his mind before the flashbacks surfaced and he would not be focused on the task given. Altair was somewhere within the district doing God-knows-what? Whatever it may be David knew all to well that blood would be shed by the end of the week.
These people were killers disguised as scholar's and men of knowledge. What they are and what they wanted to create was something David could not understand. They kept everything a secret other than their creed:
"Nothing is true, everything is permitted."
Those were the words Al Mualim said to David during the supper meal. What it meant could be interpreted in many forms. David was not much to look deep into riddles, but something about those words itched and scratched away at the surface.
"In self loathing could a man truly come to terms of his own mind." David raised his head quickly. Scaling down the walls and to the ground stood before him a man with his face covered only with his eyes showing. In surprise and alarm David stood quickly drawing his dagger from its place in his belt.
The man raised his hands in submission backing down at the chance to fight the tall man. "I am friend. I mean no harm, but I bring about information."
David could not understand what this man was saying. Adding into the frustration that David had to once again figure out the language barrier. Defeated at not knowing what the informer was telling him, the secret man moved his hands quickly. The former soldier knew the signs of someone wanting to follow them and so follow he did. Above on the rooftops with aching and burning arm muscles, David has never or will ever get used to free running. The informant was faster than any man David has ever encountered and trying to keep with his pace was beyond the lack of breath. If David wasn't very big in build he could probably catch up, but jumping from one roof to the next, keeping eyes out for archers, not slipping; David had to consider the factor that his body was very different.
There seemed to be no end in sight for where they were going. Until the informant dropped below unexpectedly. Stopping on sore legs David looked over the edge. Down below were a group of people dressed similar to the informant. Finding his way down without having to jump and further injure himself, David was slower than a snail on a wall. The people gathered looked and felt amused at the strange way the foreigner was getting down. It took a few tries to land properly to his feet and so David stood up watching as the people looked to him curiously.
"I am here. What am I to do?" he said feeling rather stupid to talking to people who could not understand him. As expected they looked at him until one of the informants walked towards him. From what David could see in the man was someone older and eyes shaded grey like he was blind.
"The man who comes from a land not yet claimed. They called to you, for what reason? For what reason? The question shall be answered in time." The older man stood on his toes and placed his palm on David's forehead. The former soldier was at a loss when the informant did such a thing. He felt something brush against his hand and looked down quickly. In his grasp was parchment folded by a red ribbon and what was sticking out was a feather.
"Give this to the Rafiq. Your mission has been completed as of today. You will grow in your skill as a novice, but in time you will learn that what the assassin's do, only do for the good of humanity. I know you cannot understand what I speak of, but there is a man who is to die. A target given to Altair and the man is named Tamir." The informant spoke.
David could only listen and look down at the parchment in his hand. Two names have stood out in the language: Altair and Tamir. Who this person -Tamir- was had to be someone of importance. For now David had to figure out or retrace his steps back to the assassin's bureau with the parchment and feather in hand. The only problem was, David was tired and his muscles ached. Maybe he could sit down in this peace and quiet part of the poor district without any disturbance. He could finally get the peace he needed as his mind kept thinking of home and the trouble that was causing him so much pain.
The loss and failure of his mission...