Chapter Text
Malik was on an internship, logging his service hours at the Jerusalem bureau. His concentration was focused on mapmaking, but he was also thinking about his younger brother, Kadar, wondering how he was doing with his assassin training. He recognized that Kadar was very active and observant, someone who enjoyed the grueling training, but he still worried about his condition because of the constant thoughts.
Although Malik was already an assassin, he had to do hours in the service of the bureau to fulfill a position he had set for himself, being a requirement to be able to enter the training of the rank of master assassin.
Serving in the bureau was tedious and boring; it always involved searching for and communicating information, making maps, running errands, and other uninspiring tasks. But Malik didn't see it as an obligation. He was committed to his desire to become someone and serve his brotherhood as much as he could, and also to become someone of great influence.
His brothers—not by blood, but his allies—knew that Malik's skills and great cunning should be fully utilized, not wasted. Al Mualim had high expectations for both the elder and younger Al-Sayf.
Kadar excelled at physical training. He was always motivated and always had his energy flowing. It was sometimes rumored that the Al-Sayf brothers might be the best of their generation, something that made Malik and Kadar proud of their performance.
Everything was pink, flowers and rainbows everywhere for Malik,
until suddenly there was a loud crash at the main entrance of the bureau, disturbing the peace of mind of the aforementioned.
The young man in the black robes set aside his task—drawing maps—focusing all his attention on the loud noise. His face changed immediately. It went from a genuine smile to a serious expression, as if a rock had been thrown at him, jolting him awake and reminding him that he was still surrounded by a cruel environment.
A few seconds of silence passed. A strange, uncomfortable feeling of tension permeated the moment. Then, footsteps formed on the hard marble and concrete floor, keeping Malik waiting for that tense figure, only to end it with an unexpected encounter.
"Hello Malik."
A voice with a deep, obviously dishonest intonation came from a hooded, tanned boy, his eyes hidden behind his hood. He greeted him with a sly smile.
Even though the hood covered the visitor's eyes, Malik would recognize who it was thanks to the scar on his lip as much as to his dramatically deep voice.
"Damn it, Altaïr. It's just you." _The cartographer averted his gaze from the hooded figure, letting out a heavy sigh. This reaction only caused the musk-eyed man to act more dramatically than he feared._ "What do you mean it's just me?!" _He lowered his hood so abruptly that it mocked the other man in the white hood.
"Stop acting like that, will you?" _He placed his right hand on his face, massaging his eyebrows._ "With all that tension, I thought you were someone important."
Altaïr headed towards the Dai's post. He was preparing his most exaggerated and pathetic response possible, something that would haunt his friend-rival's nightmares.
"So... I'm not important to you?"
His face came too close. So close that only a few centimeters separated their noses.
Unfortunately for Malik, he had just removed the hand covering his eyes, only to find himself, to his surprise, face to face with Altaïr, their noses almost touching.
The victim of the prank immediately recoiled in fright, his fist suddenly leaping out of control and lashing out at the prankster's face. Altaïr reacted quickly and evaded the unexpected attack. His expression had completely changed, from amusement to bewilderment.
Since the blow was avoided, the hooded guy—without feeling that his hand had hit anything—immediately stopped the movement.
"I just got here and you already want to smash my face in." _The one with the scar on his lip commented mockingly. Even though he'd been close to getting hurt, he found it funny how the one with the burnt complexion reacted to him.
"Only you cause these things. You should stop being like this." _Malik had his back to him. He crossed his arms in an expression of annoyance.
"But I still make you laugh." _The brown-haired guy propped his elbows on the small table, hunching his back forward.
His attention was stolen by the man in the black robe, who still refused to yield to the assassin.
Altaïr's gaze remained fixed on Malik's back, while the observed and awaited boy stared at the corner, analyzing what had just happened.
With the short lapse of time having passed, a resentful sigh was heard, a sound that woke the eagle who was patient for a simple response in return.
"I admit you make me laugh, but what you just did wasn't funny at all."
Altaïr chuckled.
"Sorry. It was the last thing on my mind, the only thing I could think of."
The tanned man returned to his upright position, keeping his attention on his friend.
The cartographer reappeared, his face less threatening and more composed.
The situation was quite strange.
Why had Altaïr done that?
The Dai practitioner seriously doubted his friend's sanity.
That act,
if it had been carried out in front of a third party,
would have ended in the worst possible way.
At the same time, Malik didn't want to start overthinking useless things; he wanted to refocus on his work,
and so he did.
He calmed his posture even further, relaxing every point of his body, allowing him to resume tracing maps.
"Tell me, Altaïr. Why did you come to Jerusalem?"
The cartographer asked, so calmly that it satisfied the assassin,
but it wasn't enough to dispel any confusion about the question.
"Didn't you receive Al Mualim's letter?"
Malik wrinkled his nose.
"No. We haven't received a letter. That's why I'm asking."
Altaïr scratched the back of his neck.
"In that case... Al Mualim sent me on a mission."
Malik let go of his arms, putting down the draw of maps again, and began to move around his small space, listening to the assassin.
"Of course. But, a mission for what?" _Curiosity still lingered in his voice.
"I was sent to kill a traitor. They said he was wandering around here." _Malik turned his gaze back to the assassin, letting go of his regret. Traitors were rare—at that time—in the Assassin Brotherhood.
Even Altaïr looked very serious when mentioning the reason, even after performing a very comical act recently.
"Aren't you going to help me?"
Silence returned to the scene; Malik was still processing the situation.
"No. We're still novices. Especially you." _He murmured the last part, confusing the eagle.
"What did you say?"
Altaïr moved closer to the cartographer, resting one of his hands on the small table between them.
"I said,
it would be best if you practiced your information-gathering skills more."
The assassin, still hesitant, nodded and returned to his previous stance.
"Well... I suppose you're right."
The two young men looked into each other's eyes,
but it didn't last long thanks to the intern who was signaling that he had to leave.
Altaïr said goodbye to Malik and left him alone. Alone with his silent peace and deep thoughts.
Several minutes may have passed, for the memory of the brazen act, of the wretched murderer, had returned to the cartographer's mind, leaving him in moments of discomfort and self-doubt.