(no subject)
Malik shows up with his army and sends correspondence to Altair, and when Altair shows up, Malik captures him. He presents himself and a hostage Altair to Abbas pretending to be on Abbas' side. Abbas accepts this explanation because Malik is good with people (unlike Altair who is absolute shit with people). Malik convinces Abbas to have Altair executed in the morning because Altair is the opposition and he's got the other assassins on his side. If Abbas is going to intimidate his supporters into falling in line, he's going to have to make an example of Altair. Abbas accepts this reasoning. He promises to make Malik his deputy once this is all over. At dinner, everything's fine, everything's fine. Abbas has armed guards standing two to every one of his guests cos he's a paranoid, unstable fucker. Malik very calmly eats his hummus. Abbas is going on about bullshit bullshit, whatever bullshit, and suddenly he stops, seizes, falls over dead, poisoned. There's a very brief skirmish, but Malik's people have taken out most of the guards standing post outside, so the ones inside the hall give over quietly. Malik kicks Abbas over, has Usman strip him of his colours and goes to set Altair out of his cell.
Altair, grimly, "You might've said something in your missive," but Malik knows better than to give away any plans to anybody before they're enacted. Malik gives him the Mentor's colours and Altair falters, takes them, but doesn't put them on. "I don't think I should."/"You must. You're going to address the village, and you're not going to do it looking like a pigeon." Altair puts on the robes. "I don't know what to tell them" so Malik tells him. The assurances he gives them sound soft but are politically strategic: clemency to everybody who presents himself by tomorrow evening, a public burial for Abbas so everyone can see his face, etc. Altair pulls Malik up with him at the last second. Malik stands at his left when he speaks. He sees Altairs knuckles going white where they're clutched against the balustrade.
They have to rebuild Masyaf, and Malik is naturally the one to go through the logistics of it. He contracts the relevant villagers and sends them assassins to assist; there's some discontent with this, but Malik has a point: too long have the assassins been up in their tower. The assassins under Al Mualim had been orphans or otherwise abandoned children. They were taken to the fortress and kept there, raised and quartered amongst themselves. They cannot be allowed to continue this way; they must be seen. It was their war that destroyed the village, and they must be seen to restore it. Altair, meanwhile, drifts. They've sent the required staff to their various allied cities to ensure that their networks stay open and active during this period of adjustment, but without Al Mualim's political ambitions, there's no work for a knife in the crowd. And that's what Altair is.
Bored, depressed, useless, Altair starts fiddling with the Apple, mostly for answers as to why Al Mualim betrayed them as he did. This answer is critical to him; Altair was one of his orphans and Al Mualim hand raised him apart from the others. He's lost his master but he's also lost his father. The others mourn but Altair grieves.
My intention was to write it kind of like a drug addiction and then withdrawal. At a certain point, Malik and Altair get into a fight over it. Altair tells him about all the different worlds he's seen, how great it would be to learn from them, how it doesn't feel like black magic it feels like flying. "But I need you here," Malik tells him furiously. "You are our master. You are my friend. Who are you in those worlds you visit? Do they miss you when you are not there?" He begs Altair to throw the Piece of Eden into the sea and Altair finally relents. They go to Jerusalem. They throw it into the Mediterranean. They go home.
Usman becomes Malik's secretary and not-quite-adoptive son. Altair has no family and can't quite understand family, and he remains married to the Order, married to his work. They run Masyaf together. Years pass, and the assassins call both Malik and Altair Mentor even though Altair wears the robes. They have a talk about it. Altair misses fieldwork. He's often found perching on rooftops.
See, it's my contention and the actual point of this fic that Altair is really poorly suited to be in any position of leadership. He was never groomed to rule; Al Mualim isolated him and spoilt him and crafted him into the perfect weapon. Al Mualim meant to rule with Altair as the sharpest dagger in his armoury, so he encouraged Altair to spend the majority of his life in contempt of his fellow human beings. Altair has almost zero interpersonal skills or emotional endurance. Malik, on the other hand, second best and cleaning up messes, has had to learn how to facilitate people. Whereas Altair was so obsessively good at what he did that he literally became his function, Malik -- valuable but not special -- has had the time to develop other skills other than the most efficient way to separate a man from his life. He can see what's necessary past next week; he can run logistics; he can make concessions and alliances; he knows how to delegate the things he doesn't know how to do.
In my ideal resolution the the leadership problem, Altair remains master assassin and cedes the Mentor position to Malik, who uses him more kindly than Al Mualim did, but Altair is still a knife. He's the living embodiment of a hidden blade -- single-purpose and perfectly precise -- only now Malik wields him. If that doesn't make up for his inability to wear a hidden blade on his arm, I don't know what does.
Anyway.
Altair, grimly, "You might've said something in your missive," but Malik knows better than to give away any plans to anybody before they're enacted. Malik gives him the Mentor's colours and Altair falters, takes them, but doesn't put them on. "I don't think I should."/"You must. You're going to address the village, and you're not going to do it looking like a pigeon." Altair puts on the robes. "I don't know what to tell them" so Malik tells him. The assurances he gives them sound soft but are politically strategic: clemency to everybody who presents himself by tomorrow evening, a public burial for Abbas so everyone can see his face, etc. Altair pulls Malik up with him at the last second. Malik stands at his left when he speaks. He sees Altairs knuckles going white where they're clutched against the balustrade.
They have to rebuild Masyaf, and Malik is naturally the one to go through the logistics of it. He contracts the relevant villagers and sends them assassins to assist; there's some discontent with this, but Malik has a point: too long have the assassins been up in their tower. The assassins under Al Mualim had been orphans or otherwise abandoned children. They were taken to the fortress and kept there, raised and quartered amongst themselves. They cannot be allowed to continue this way; they must be seen. It was their war that destroyed the village, and they must be seen to restore it. Altair, meanwhile, drifts. They've sent the required staff to their various allied cities to ensure that their networks stay open and active during this period of adjustment, but without Al Mualim's political ambitions, there's no work for a knife in the crowd. And that's what Altair is.
Bored, depressed, useless, Altair starts fiddling with the Apple, mostly for answers as to why Al Mualim betrayed them as he did. This answer is critical to him; Altair was one of his orphans and Al Mualim hand raised him apart from the others. He's lost his master but he's also lost his father. The others mourn but Altair grieves.
My intention was to write it kind of like a drug addiction and then withdrawal. At a certain point, Malik and Altair get into a fight over it. Altair tells him about all the different worlds he's seen, how great it would be to learn from them, how it doesn't feel like black magic it feels like flying. "But I need you here," Malik tells him furiously. "You are our master. You are my friend. Who are you in those worlds you visit? Do they miss you when you are not there?" He begs Altair to throw the Piece of Eden into the sea and Altair finally relents. They go to Jerusalem. They throw it into the Mediterranean. They go home.
Usman becomes Malik's secretary and not-quite-adoptive son. Altair has no family and can't quite understand family, and he remains married to the Order, married to his work. They run Masyaf together. Years pass, and the assassins call both Malik and Altair Mentor even though Altair wears the robes. They have a talk about it. Altair misses fieldwork. He's often found perching on rooftops.
See, it's my contention and the actual point of this fic that Altair is really poorly suited to be in any position of leadership. He was never groomed to rule; Al Mualim isolated him and spoilt him and crafted him into the perfect weapon. Al Mualim meant to rule with Altair as the sharpest dagger in his armoury, so he encouraged Altair to spend the majority of his life in contempt of his fellow human beings. Altair has almost zero interpersonal skills or emotional endurance. Malik, on the other hand, second best and cleaning up messes, has had to learn how to facilitate people. Whereas Altair was so obsessively good at what he did that he literally became his function, Malik -- valuable but not special -- has had the time to develop other skills other than the most efficient way to separate a man from his life. He can see what's necessary past next week; he can run logistics; he can make concessions and alliances; he knows how to delegate the things he doesn't know how to do.
In my ideal resolution the the leadership problem, Altair remains master assassin and cedes the Mentor position to Malik, who uses him more kindly than Al Mualim did, but Altair is still a knife. He's the living embodiment of a hidden blade -- single-purpose and perfectly precise -- only now Malik wields him. If that doesn't make up for his inability to wear a hidden blade on his arm, I don't know what does.
Anyway.