Assassin's Creed: Enter the Animus

Memory Fragment: Altaïr

Masyaf Castle was nearly silent, aside from the wind that blew between cracks in the stone walls. Your quiet footsteps accompanied the breeze as your leather soles scuffed against the ground. You had been summoned by Al Mualim, usually his request was that of a mission.

His den, located on the upper level of the foyer, was next to the library where many scholars and messengers stayed during the daytime. No one was to disturb Al Mualim unless beckoned. Messengers were an exception to that rule, as they travelled between bureaus in other locations and informed Al Mualim of ongoing affairs.

You stepped up the stairs swiftly, passing fellow assassins and messengers. You came upon the library which was made up of bookshelves reaching the ceiling. Desks and chairs carved of oak and adorned with velvet accents, were placed strategically in order to afford privacy. The said scholars sat silently at the tables, books scattered in front of them. You took care to avoid making any sound or disturbance. Reaching Master's quarters, which sat in the middle of the study rather than behind closed doors, you took a moment to analyze his demeanour.

You watched as he peered out his open window, deep in thought, his back to you. He was most likely drowned in plans for war. The Templars had not yet given up hope to capture The Holy Land, and Al Mualim feared Robert de Sable would turn citizens against the assassins for support. The assassins could not compete against both; it was surely not far from his mind and probably the culprit of his distraction.

"Master," your voice was even while your eyes shifted to meet the stone floor as you nodded slightly.

He turned to you, an emotionless slate upon his face as always. In the years you had been trained and raised by him, his emotions remained tame. It struck fear into those beneath him, it was how he intimidated the Templars and kept his assassins obedient.

"(F/N)," He greeted you. "I have asked you here so you would retrieve Altaïr from his quarters and the two of you aid Abbas in training the novices. He is overwhelmed with the new recruits joining our ranks."

"Of course, master." At the mention of Altaïr's name your heart thumped rapidly.

His frown never faltered, and you excused yourself to do as he asked. Al Mualim was not to be denied or defied. He was a powerful man with an army of trained assassins spread across Syria, Lebanon and Israel. Your loyalty to the man, along with any of those bearing the assassin's mark, was unfaltering and unconditional.

With haste, you made your way from his den to the living quarters where Altaïr stayed, amongst the other men and women of the master assassin rank. He had reached master assassin long ago, though he had been stripped of his rank almost two years prior.

The entirety of the castle was built of stone, though it was decorated with red, silk tapestries bearing the assassin's insignia, large windows, candle chandeliers and torches lit on the walls. There was no shortage of armour or weaponry hung on the walls.

You reached Altaïr's door and with a hard knock you heard shuffling inside. He finally pulled open the oak barrier and appeared before you, clad in nothing but a linen towel to shield him from you. You kept composure at the sight of his nearly naked frame, having seen it only a handful of times before. Your eyes begged you to glance at his toned stomach, or perhaps even further down, but you denied the temptation.

"(F/N)," he mumbled, suddenly remembering his torso was bare. "I was expecting Abbas or..." he stopped himself. "What is it?"

You finally couldn't help but let your eyes look at his bulging biceps, calloused hands and defined torso muscles. You reluctantly dragged your eyes from his toned muscles and stared into his hazel gaze.