All around him was endless white. Conrad was on his back on an ivory surface. The blood from his wound was gone, however he was still dying. There was no pain, no confusion. There was only a sense of intrigue that one might find themselves with when they lose their way; a unfamiliar path in a familiar place, no urgency or fear, just a sense of complacency and the compulsion to move forward.

Then, another man was there, hovering above him, in the process of laying him back gently, one hand cradling his neck, the other under his shoulders. It was an oddly gentle gesture, a sign of compassion that Conrad struggled to reconcile with the face of his murderer.

"You..." He rasped. "Finally."

The assassin smirked, but not unkindly. His was a knowing smile. "Any last words, Templar?" He pulled his hands away from the Siege Lord.

"I am no Templar, assassin."

"The son of William de Montferrat, to whom I also spoke in this manner." He looked puzzled.

Conrad could not suppress his bitter laugh. "And what did he say to you? That I was unfit to follow in his footsteps? Perhaps even to wipe my own ass?"

"Yes... So why-"

Suddenly, Conrad was on his feet once more, walking towards the assassin's back with only peaceful intent. "Richard had not known about the Templars. I heard about the circumstances under which Robert de Sable finally met his end. Was the king's surprise genuine?"

The assassin turned away from the body and faced the ghost of Conrad. "I believe so. Why else would he allow me to kill the Grand Master of the Templars?"

"Exactly." Then, as though he had only just noticed it, Conrad stepped to the side and stared at the body that rested beneath the assassin. A wave of unease passed within him, but he quickly recovered, accepting it. It was his body and he was dead. "Why have you come for me? I treated the city well even as the Templars' all-seeing gaze pressed down upon me at all times."

"I seek vengeance for my fallen." The assassin fixed the Siege Lord with a cold, accusing stare.

Conrad found it near impossible to recall his life past the few moments before his death. His memory seemed blocked by an immovable wall, a substance thick as honey. With great effort, he pressed through slowly. "What happened to your men was not my doing." He placed his fingers against his temple and concentrated. "The few who died were killed by my men as I slept, and the survivor who made it back to Masyaf was, admittedly, another pawn in my fruitless attempts to deceive the Templars."

"No survivor ever reached our fortress. We found him dead on a road in the mountains."

Conrad cursed. If the assassin was well enough to begin walking, to make his way through the mountains, then his death could not have been caused by the injuries he sustained in the battlements. Though there remained a few possibilities, Conrad knew it had to be the work of his Masters. "My condolences," the Siege Lord offered, but despite how genuine he felt, the uselessness of the words seemed the only thing to reach the assassin's ears.

The assassin glanced up and away.

The Siege Lord felt restless. Eager to be done with this limbo business, he tried to avert back to his original subject. "Did you see my message?"

"The fires that nearly ravaged the cathedral?" The assassin rested an arm on his knee, gave Conrad a teasing gesture. "I may have missed it."

Conrad pursed his lips. "It began as a burning Templar flag."

"I saw it, as well as your re-initiation into the Templar Order. Your false act of rebellion failed to fool me, Conrad."

"So, you continued to hunt me. How could you be so sure that my loyalty to the Templars was true?"

The assassin waved him closer to his body. Conrad walked up until he towered over them both, watching as the assassin pulled up his tunic, and revealed a horrendous scar. In the shape of a Templar cross. "Why else would you go through the pain of initiation?" the assassin asked thoughtfully.

Conrad put a hand to his stomach. He had not remembered receiving it after he died, but retained the memory of the pain it had caused him, the constant burning that existed even after the wound had been treated. "To fool them." He recalled more. "But it failed as well. Had you not taken my life, they would have. I was poisoned and already moments from death when you engaged me."

"A pity."

"Quite. I planned to ride to Masyaf tomorrow."

"You would have been met with a knife to your back."

"I doubt it. Seeing a Templar approach your fortress – alone and mostly unarmed – would pique your curiosity too much. You would not only feel the need to discover why I risked my life to seek you out, but also crave to take my life yourself."

The assassin narrowed his eyes. "Why do this? Why risk yourself?"

The Siege Lord looked again to his body, the way his head had tilted to the side, lifeless. His dark eyes had grown dense and milky. "After Sibrand met his own demise, I learned from one of the Templar masters of what they planned to do with the world." Conrad paused, his eyes never leaving his body. "They are madmen. What they wish is not freedom from violence and persecution, but freedom from ourselves and unique thought. Once I learned this, I could not simply stand by and let it happen.

"As far as I knew, you and your assassins were the only men taking action against this totalitarian threat. I grew weary of feigning loyalty to a cause I had been brought up learning to follow without question. I sought your help because I knew no other way to truly begin to save my people."

The assassin considered this, turning his hooded head away from the Siege Lord and his body, looking off into the endless white. "It seems I was wrong about you, then." He leaned down to close Conrad's eyes, but his wrist was suddenly caught by the ghost's grip.

"Not yet, assassin. I have a few requests to ask of you before I truly leave this world." Conrad leaned down, staying the assassin's final gesture.

"Asking me for favors? You may not be a Templar, but you do possess their arrogance." The assassin smirked and waved a hand over his shoulder. "Say what you must, while you still have the time to do so."

Conrad released his grip and moved behind the assassin. "My thanks," he began. "Do not take the Templars as fools. I have heard what transpired at the fortress, so you are aware that not all subjects are like their masters." At this, the assassin flinched almost imperceptibly. "Watch them, kill them, and replace me with someone you trust; make certain my people, who were so for but a small amount of time, are well taken care of.

"My beloved, Isabella, resides in Cyprus. Please, send her a letter detailing the truth of my demise. If you can, provide her with asylum. It is by no fault of hers that I have put her life in danger.

"Finally, my attendant. He is a man from Syria, taken from his home by my father and given to me as a slave as a young boy. He has, however, grown up as my closest friend. Surely even someone as yourself can understand the bond a man has with someone whom he has grown up with."

"Yes. What about him?" the assassin asked with some trepidation.

"He is a remarkable young man. Capable, smart, honest. He does not deserve to be abandoned in this city without my protection."

"What would you have me do, exactly?"

"Give him a chance."

The assassin laughed, a frightening sound from a man so used to death. "I would have never expected such unselfish concern for another from a man such as yourself. Your man, then, if I can grant these last wishes of yours, how will I know which Syrian he is in this vast city?"

A smile spread across the Siege Lord's face. "Oh, you will know." He felt a tug and a wave of exhaustion pass through him, a great desire to fall asleep and not wake up. He felt there were mere moments before he would get just that.

The assassin pulled him from his reverie. "I still do not understand. You could have saved your own life, you could have acted with discretion, but still you chose the path that you did, and you do not seem to regret any of it even as you lie here dead."

There was little time. "I know not your age or your experience, but trust me when I say this: Your greatest victories will not be the ones handed to you, but the ones that you suffer for, that you would die for."

With another short laugh, the assassin leaned down and let his hand hover above the Siege Lord's eyes. "I am disappointed that it had to end this way, Conrad."

Conrad stepped forward and placed a ghost hand on the assassin's shoulder. "As am I, assassino." It echoed through the vast nothingness.

Altaïr turned back, startled, and found no one behind him. There was only a cold, unliving body at his feet, over which his slightly trembling hand still lingered. With a shake of his head, he finally ran his fingers over the body's eyes to close them. Then, the world around him collapsed.