It would be a boring day again, Altaïr was sure about that. Taking care of him while others could leave and do whatever they wanted to do. But this time he would do it differently. Not because he couldn't get a wounded Templar down on his knees, no if someone failed to do that he wasn't even worth it to be called an Assassin. But the risk of reopening the wounds if the man struggled was just too big, a fight could set the healing process back for days.
The Templar was still asleep, Altaïr could hear faint snoring. He slammed the door open, metal clanging against each other. The prisoner jolted awake, looking confused around him and stopping at Altaïr. ''You…'' he growled angrily, sitting up.
With a smile, the Syrian stepped inside, locking the cell door again. ''Are we going to continue like last time or not?'' he asked, on purpose not telling when last time was. Inside of the dungeons, you had no idea which day it was, even if it was day or night. The month that he had spend here had felt like a year. It was a tactic to break someone.
And like yesterday, the man kept quiet, looking stubbornly at him. Altaïr held the cup sloping, a few drops of water falling down. The man licked his lips thirsty. ''Okey'' he growled finally, not wanting to spill any water that he could drink.
Altaïr immediately kept the cup upright again. ''First, you'll come here and let me treat your wounds without struggling, then you can have some water'' The man stood up from the straw bag, taking small steps towards him, ready to jump away if the Syrian would try to kill him. When he finally stood in front of him, Altaïr placed his hand on his shoulder and tried to push him down, not too roughly yet but firmly enough to make clear what he wanted.
But the man refused, trying to shake his hand of his shoulder, again trying to grab the cup. The Syrian was having none of that, water splashing out of the cup as he quickly pulled it away. His foot he hooked behind the knee of the prisoner, pulling forward and effectively making the Templar fall down on his knee, although a bit harder than if he had done it voluntary.
''Are you stupid? I thought I told you no grabbing last time!'' Altaïr snarled, having his fingers tangled in the man's hair to keep him down. The man reached up and grabbing the Assassins wrist to prevent any more additional pain. ''Why should I care, you're just going to kill me either way!'' Altaïr sighed deeply, that man was just too stupid to realize that it would have no purpose killing him now, only after they had gotten the information he would become useless.
''Then tell me why I've patched you up and brought you water?'' shaking his hand roughly from the left to the right. The man just made some muffled sounds of pain. ''Now you're going to sit quietly and I'm going to tend to those wounds. If you dare to move again, I'll tie you up'' The man said no word but his quietness meant most likely a yes.
Altaïr let go of his hair and did a step forward to check on the back of the Templar, the most injured area. The prisoner surely hadn't seen Zafer coming because the first stab had been in his shoulder, if the man would live long enough to see the wound heal, it would always be marked by a bad and big scar.
He removed the bandages, washed the blood away with a wet cloth and got a small bottle from his robe. For a moment, he just looked at it. Someone had obtained it after finding a deserted Templar house, it was forbidden to drink for any muslim but the Templars didn't have that rule. Altaïr had heard of the medicinal working of the liquid, it could prevent wounds from getting infected. The Syrian had never tried it before, but the prisoner was the ideal guinea pig, if it didn't work, no problem, if it did work, useful for the next time Altaïr got injured.
He opened the bottle and poured the liquid inside of it over the wound. The reaction was instant, the man let out an animalistic scream in pain and pushed Altaïr away with force, getting back on his feet. The Assassin was a bit surprised by the reaction, he hadn't used all the liquid yet and he carefully dropped some of the stuff on his own hand if it really hurt that much. It didn't seem much else than water, except for the smell.
Maybe it was like salt? Only this stuff could clean wounds up. Altaïr scratched this stuff from his list of things he could use when injured, any sound would certainly give his hidespot away. Even if he prevented screaming, a muffled sound could just be enough.
The prisoner stood in front of him, his back pressed against the metal bars, looking down at the Syrian with a ferocious glare in his eyes. The Assassin raised from the floor, walking forward. He remembered his own words, no moving or I'll tie you up. He wasn't sure whether to do that or not. Sure, Sibrand had broken the rule, but couldn't it be excepted after that unexpected amount of pain, if the Templar wasn't whining?
Altaïr closed the bottle again, not that it was to any use, the thing was empty now but he wanted to make clear he wasn't going to do that again. ''Get down'' he said, his voice still calm but demanding.
Sibrand didn't make a move, his chest going up and down with every breath he took. ''Down now, or must I help you again?'' Altaïr said, his voice more stern than before. Slowly, the Templar started moving, but he didn't look away from the Assassin, expecting another attempt to take his life any minute.
The wound on his shoulder had started bleeding again, the liquid and the moving had surely made it worse. Carefully, Altaïr wrapped it up again after checking the stitches. The other wounds still seemed okey and he was done rather quickly. During the whole checking, the man was tensed and ready to get away. ''You can get up now'' he said, taking the cup and handing it over to the prisoner, who drank it quickly.
Next, he got the piece of bread. ''If you want it, you better answer some questions'' maybe last time he had been a bit too quick with asking important questions like where the other Templars were. Ofcourse he wouldn't betray them just like that. Altaïr decided to start with some easier questions. ''Which country do you come from?'' he asked, ripping off a piece of bread.
''Germany'' the sound of it was barbaric, like the Templars actions and the voice who said the word wasn't really nice either, but Sibrand had answered. The Syrian handed him the piece of food which was wolfed down in a matter of seconds, making sure Altaïr couldn't take it away from him again.
Another piece was held in front of his face. ''How old are you?'' The man opened his mouth to answer but at the same time looked confused. 'Tw…two…'' The Templar didn't seem to know the words. He finally gave up trying to say the number, he just showed his hands two times and seven fingers.
''Twentyseven'' Altaïr said, giving him another piece. It wasn't very useful information but at least it was some. The next question could be a bit more useful. ''Which city did you come from? I mean not in Gemaji but here.'' The country's name was still too difficult for the Syrian to pronounce. It took a lot longer for Sibrand to reply this time, but his grumbling stomach finally made the decision. ''Acre''
Altaïr handed him the rest of the bread before leaving the cell. The key turned in the lock, leaving the German alone again. Altaïr went straight up the stairs, out of the dungeons when he bumped into Zafer.
''You could at least have injured him less badly, it will take days and days before he's recovered enough to be investigated. '' Altaïr scolded him on a calm tone, Zafer was still years younger than him but also a novice. Zafer just smiled dumbly. ''Got anything out of him yet?'' he grinned, expecting the Templar to be still half unconscious. But getting an answer was not what Zafer was expecting. Altaïr smiled back. ''Yes, actually I have. He's from Acre and I got his name'' The expression changed from Zafers face. ''That's all you could get from him?'' he said after recovering himself. ''Wait until the investigation, I'll squeeze every last drop of information out of him. It'll be easy, if he was already screaming like that, he surely can't handle any pain at all''
Altaïr knew what they were planning to do, wait until the Templar was healed enough, then torture him until they got every information they needed and let him bleed to death or just throw him off the castle walls. The future of Sibrand wasn't looking really bright and extremely short.