Author's Note: Hm, not much action in this one, thus it's quite short. I'll make sure to get the Assassins moving again by the next chapter. Also, thank you very much to my reviewers and watchers, your support really inspires me to move forward.

Assassin's Creed: Alis Aquilae

Second

Though the inner room was equally as dark as the silent courtyard they had left behind, Altair could still tell that it was much larger than he had expected. Shadows clung heavily to the walls and the rafters crisscrossing the high ceiling, dangling alongside a multitude of half-finished paintings and strange wood-frame contraptions, just visible in the reflected moonlight. The Masyaf Assassin paused at the doorway as it closed behind him, a little unnerved by the sudden, confining darkness. He noticed, however, that both men in front of him moved confidently through it, proof that they frequented this building.

Leonardo, most likely the Bureau's rafiq, busied himself lighting candles, setting several of them across a large desk scattered messily with scrolls and maps. "Please, make yourself at home signore," he called out to Altair who was looking around the large room with mild interest now that he could see properly. Against the wall opposite him, he noticed a European couch, worked of fine cloth and neat thread work, its comfortable cushions beckoning him despite his rather stubborn refusal to relax his guard. However, feeling eyes on his movements, he instead looked over to the corner of the room where the second man had made himself comfortable.

The other Assassin had settled against a solid stone pillar at the rafiq's shoulder, still watching the white-robed one warily. The young man's hood had been pushed back, revealing long, unkempt bangs of brown hair that obscured his face somewhat even without the peak of his hood. "You have a name, don't you, foreigner?" he asked, casting an almost bored eye over him.

"Yes, but is it not common courtesy to introduce oneself first before asking someone else's name?" Altair responded flatly, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, if only to rest his injured leg. Only by doing this did he notice with a tinge of regret that the scabbard at his waist hung empty, his gold-hilted sword possibly still lying in the grass of the fortress garden. Allah, how long had it really been since he had been there?

"Show a little more gratitude," the man snapped back, meeting temper with temper. "We took you in; the least you can do is tell us who you are and where you came from. Or would you rather try your chances out there in the streets?"

Altair scowled, loathing it, but knowing his supposed brother was right. He stretched the pause a bit longer before finally saying, "My name is Altair. I am an Assassin from the fortress of Masyaf."

The man smirked at the small victory of getting him to speak—was he a child to take such petty pleasures?—before answering with a sweeping bow and almost mocking courtesy, "Ezio Auditore da Firenze. And as you've probably already heard, this is Leonardo da Vinci."

Both Assassins turned to look at the indicated man, and found him to be staring at Altair, looking as if he had just seen him. "…'Altair,' you say?" he said thoughtfully, holding the Masyaf Assassin's gaze for a brief moment before a rather broad, excited expression lit his face and he turned to begin briskly sorting through the pile of papers on his desk, evidently looking for something.

"Leonardo? What are you doing?"

"Look at his clothes, Ezio," the bearded man said eagerly, almost knocking over some of the candles he had so carefully lit as he searched. "Don't they look familiar? I was sure I had seen them somewhere before—aha!" Rather triumphantly, he extracted a stack of unfurled scrolls bound together with cord, untying them and fanning the aged parchments out on top of a large map on the table. Altair stood and approached him, unable to contain his curiosity, stopping opposite the other Assassin as all three of them looked upon the man's find.

"Le pagina di codice?" Ezio questioned, touching one of the evidently familiar papers and pulling it towards himself for a closer look. "What about them?"

Altair swept a perplexed gaze over the files, noticing that some had writing, while others bore various ink sketches. He ignored most of the written words, for they seemed apparently encoded, and looked instead towards the drawings. He was startled to recognize the portrait of a young woman, a hooded lady in a tunic bearing the Templar cross—it was de Sable's girl, his decoy he had met barely a few days ago. He looked with renewed interest towards the other pictures, recognizing brother Assassins in the familiar robes of his own Order crossing swords with knights, climbing walls and leaping towers, their figures arranged almost like an instruction manual.

"What is this?" he asked quietly, more to himself than to either of the other two.

Leonardo, in response to his inquiry, sifted through a few of the papers and handed him a couple of them, one of the ancient pages and another newer one that appeared to be a translation. "These are pages of what has come to be known as the Codex. They are the journal entries of a Master Assassin who lived several centuries ago." The white-robed one took them and frowned slightly as he read a few lines off of the newer piece, wherein the words had been decoded into English.

I remember my own moment of weakness when confronted by al Mualim, my confidence shaken by his words. He, who had been like a father, was now revealed to be my greatest enemy. Just the briefest flicker of doubt was all he needed to creep into my mind. But I vanquished his phantoms—restored my self-confidence—and sent him from this world. I freed myself. But now I wonder... Did I really?

Altair's brow furrowed in sheer confusion, realizing that the written words were a complete narration of the emotions that had coursed through him when he had encountered his master in the garden a few hours ago, practically a reflection of his inner soul. He stared at the piece of paper like an eagle into a mirror, completely unnerved at this seeming invasion of personal thought. Attempting futilely to comprehend how they had come to appear on this "Codex page," he looked up at the other two men, his off-guard uncertainty showing through his usually careful mask.

"The name of the writer of the Codex was Altair, Son of None," Leonardo supplied in all seriousness, answering the unspoken question.

"Do you recognize it?" Ezio asked plainly, meeting Altair's eyes with a certain measure of smugness. "As you can see, this man you are claiming to be died hundreds of years ago. It seems the source you were trying to use to pass off as an Assassin is a little outdated."

Realizing that his bewilderment was being mistaken for panic and guilt, Altair caught himself, restoring his impassive expression and setting the papers back on the desk. "I am not lying," he said coldly, pushing his unsteadiness behind a veil of indifference. "I do not know what this document has to do with me, but I have never seen it before."

The Florentine Assassin scoffed, rounding the table to face Altair more directly. "A likely tale, Templar. How long are you going to keep pretending?"

"I am not. And I see no reason why I need to prove myself to you," he snapped back, indignation mounting at being doubted so soon after he had worked for months to regain his rank and standing. "If anything, the one who should be doubted here is you."

"...Excuse me?" the other ground out, bristling visibly.

"I have been training to be an Assassin for almost my entire life," Altair stated bluntly, plowing on despite admitting at the back of his mind that his brash words were merely a defense mechanism. "True Assassins learn to mask their intentions and hone their skills with a blade. Based on our match earlier, you appear to have been schooled in neither. Evidently, you either had an incompetent teacher or you were simply an inept student. Within my Brotherhood, you would be little more than a novice."

"Ezio, don't—!"

The white-robed one took a half step back, raising his right to easily catch the punch aimed at his face. "You are also much too emotional," he said, his tone flat as he shoved the fist away. However, he was a little startled to find a hidden blade suddenly at his throat despite having just countered the other Assassin's left hand. Altair tilted his chin slightly, face still emotionless, and glanced down at Ezio's right arm to see a second device past his loose sleeve, identical to the one around his left. A dual hidden blade.

"I will not allow you to insult my father, stronzo," the other Assassin snarled, shrugging off Leonardo's protesting grip on his sleeve. "I don't even know why we have to bother wasting time with you imposter. The ship from Cyprus is returning tomorrow, I can't be distracted by anything right now."

At the mention of the island, Altair remembered rather suddenly where he had heard this man's voice before. "A ship from Cyprus?" he asked carefully, speaking calmly around the knife pressed against his neck. "Do you mean the one that was sent to retrieve the Piece of Eden?"

Ezio's eyes narrowed dangerously at the mention of the artifact, his weapon hand wavering slightly in surprise. "Now I know that you are a Templar," he said harshly, accusingly. "How else could you possibly know about—?"

The Master Assassin lashed out abruptly, grabbing onto Ezio's wrist in the space of his distraction and pushing against his hidden blade just above the release mechanism. The weapon retracted safely back into its sheath as he forced the other Assassin's hand away, he knowing exactly where to hold the device to avoid cutting himself. "I know about it because I am exactly who I claim to be," Altair stated firmly, not releasing his grip in case the other attempted to attack him again. "I don't know what kind of tricks that Templar treasure is playing, but it is the reason I am here right now."

The caped man scowled, jerking his arm free and taking a step back, the doubt in his own decision showing on his face now. Altair stood down as well, realizing that in speaking his thoughts aloud, he had explained the situation to himself just as much as he had to Ezio. Though he could not understand its reason for doing so, he knew that the only way for him to sort out his predicament was to get his hands on the artifact again.

"If what you say is true, how is it possible?" Leonardo asked softly, looking between the two Assassins to make sure they wouldn't begin another fight in the middle of his workshop. "Are you suggesting the Apple altered time itself?"

"I would not be surprised if it has," the Masyaf Assassin said, moving nonchalantly back towards the couch and trying to mask his steadily collecting exhaustion as he sat. "The only way I can be sure is if I can get a chance to examine it again."

"Then your timing is perfect," the rafiq said with a slight nod, looking over at Ezio. "Wouldn't you say, amico mio? This way, the both of you can go intercept the delivery."

"No. I will not work with him."

Altair quirked a brow at him from his reclined position on the sofa, arms folded. "And why not? Are you not accustomed to working with a partner, brother?" he asked dryly, not really caring for an answer but irked enough at the other man to goad him a little. "The other Assassins here must not like you very much."

"That's just it," Ezio shot back, temper extinguished now, but his annoyance evident. "Why do you keep speaking as if there are so many of us? I am the only Assassin left in the entire Italia. There have not been any fortresses or Brotherhoods for years. I have learned to personally take care of myself and mine, especially after my father and brothers were… basta, I don't need to explain it to you."

The Florentine Assassin straightened, pulling his hood back into place with a sense of finality as he strode towards the door. "Mi dispiace, Leonardo, devo andare adesso. I'll leave Altair here to you."

However, he had barely made it halfway to the entrance before Altair intercepted him, rather deftly blocking his way. "I am not a child to be left behind," he said calmly, giving him a sidelong glance. "I will either go with you or behind you. Do not expect me to wait here after telling me that the Apple is so close at hand."

At this statement, Ezio seemed abruptly amused, a small smirk tugging at his scarred lip. "You think yourself capable of keeping up with me?"

There was no modesty. "Yes."

The other cocked his head at him slightly, his expression still smug. "Even with that leg injury of yours?"

Altair shifted back consciously, involuntarily hiding the red-tinged bandage around his thigh with the folds of his robes. Recovering quickly however, he stated confidently, "I do not need to be in perfect condition to be able to keep pace with a novice."

The caped Assassin didn't bother hiding a rather derisive snort, easily brushing off the insult this time now that it was aimed at him. "We shall see. Just remember, I have been tracking this enemy for more than ten years now, don't expect to be the one to be able to find him first."

"…If you have been tracking him for so long, why have you not located him yet?"

Leonardo gave a half-hearted wave as the two Assassins left, an action that went unnoticed by both, sighing under his breath and hoping that they would not end up killing each other before sunrise.