This is Olumisi, the sketch is a bit old and not quite as detailed as I’d want it but he’s a dragon rider trying to navigate trade agreements and growing up fast in a harsh world. I took inspiration from Maasai fashion and culture as well as the Samburu people for his design. He was originally me redrawing the fantasy bakugo design but became my own OC after a while. Thank you for listening!
Oooooooooohhhhh!!! You know, I can see the fantasy Bakugou in it, and I'm actually fucking with this design!
Severe anemia has changed everything in my life. I am struggling with medical bills and ongoing treatment costs. Any donation would mean the world to me.
this is what solarpunk means to me. You find a printer. You fix it. You ask someone to please take it off their account and then they do and let you know. Beautiful. 100/10, wish printers didn't have to be tied to accounts in the first place but this is nice.
Dare I say it, Planned Parenthood is the only one I've seen that managed to do this weird trend without bastardizing AAVE 🤣 I don't know if they quite understood the assignment, but they used "locked in" correctly and didn't call it "Gen Z Slang" on the right so... All right, then! 🍾
Non-binary people get louder NOW. Non-binary people get angrier NOW. Be a killjoy. Get obnoxious about your pronouns. Put gendered words together in ways that people don't like and spit on the ones they think are mandatory. Refuse to laugh at their stupid exorsexist "jokes". Dress in ways they don't understand. Refuse to answer their prying questions. Tell exorsexists to kiss your ass. Keep your chin up. Raise your voice. Get loud and a little cocky. I want to see your nonbinarity from outer space. Don't get it twisted; do it TODAY. Do you understand me?
Well. After an argument with my mom, she has decided that she will no longer be paying for my doctor's appointments. I think I'm still on her insurance, so it shouldn't be too bad, but I'll have to pay the copays myself.
If anyone is interested in a plush commission, I have them open on Etsy, linked below. If you'd want anything that isn't humanoid, please message me there.
I'm also going to sell some of my figures. It's mostly vocaloid, but I do have some rare items. My MFC page is linked below. Dm me there if anything catches your eye.
MyFigureCollection.net - My figurine collection (Anime, manga and video games figures, goods, CDs and artbooks from Japan)
I don't think she's going to stop financially supporting me all together, and I'm trying to get a job. But I'm still in community college so this is devastating. It's not a terrible emergency, I have a decent amount of money in the bank and savings, but any support is appreciated.
Assassin's Creed/Total Drama Crossover: The Homeschooled in the Brotherhood (Chapter 2)
AO3 Version Note: You need to have an AO3 account to read it! (yes, I uploaded it there. I’m cooked.)
Trigger Warnings: Emotional child abuse in the flashback, unfunny “comedy” & characters may be OOC
The another chapter done! Hopefully the next chapter will be more exciting. :D
The bold font represents characters speaking languages other than English, and the sentences in apostrophes are mostly Zeke’s thoughts.
Enjoy! 💗
A new day had dawned. However, the sun hadn't risen yet, even though Altaïr was already awake.
"Wake up, " Altaïr ordered Ezekiel, "We have to go."
"Yo, man," Ezekiel yawned, having circles under his eyes from fatigue, "Why so early, eh?"
"The sooner we set off, the sooner we'll be in Masyaf."
"Masyaf?"
"Yes, this is my home. I want to introduce you to my master, and we'll see if he accepts you into the brotherhood."
"Okay, eh," Ezekiel nodded. He had no idea what the master of the brotherhood might be like, but he sensed he had to make a good impression on him.
Altaïr walked over to the two horses and untied their reins from the tree. "Can you ride a horse?" he inquired.
"Well… Only a few times in my life have I ridden a horse," Ezekiel responded, "When those crusaders were chasing me, I wanted to ride away, but those horses wouldn't let me mount them. I mostly rode cows back home and on the Alberta frontier, but it's kind of similar, isn't it?"
"On cows?" Altaïr arched his eyebrows in puzzlement, but didn't question it further. "Whatever… Mount this horse I've prepared for you. If you have trouble with it, I'll help you."
Altaïr saddled up and jumped onto his stallion, while Ezekiel hesitantly mounted the second horse and reached for the reins.
"You're holding the reins wrong," Altaïr admonished him and showed him the correct grip, "Hold them like this."
"Oh, okay," Ezekiel understood and adjusted his hold.
"All right. We're ready to go now. Follow me, Zeke," said Altaïr, clicking his tongue to command his horse to move forward. Ezekiel did the same, prompting his horse to set off following Altaïr at a swift walk.
Ezekiel was amazed by the environment they were passing through. He couldn't believe that this is what it looked like nearly a thousand years ago. It was mostly wilderness. The only signs of human presence being the road, ruins, and a few passersby.
Two hours later, as the sun rose over the mountains, Ezekiel began to get bored.
"Hey, Altaïr?" he spoke to him, "Are we almost there yet?"
"No," Altaïr shook his head, "Not yet."
"And when will we be there then?"
"It depends on what obstacles lie ahead. If we're lucky, we'll make it to Masyaf by evening. If not, then tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Oh shizzle, eh…" Ezekiel pouted. He knew that cars didn't exist in the Middle Ages and that horses were the only option for transportation. But spending the whole day on horseback didn't sound like a pleasant way for him.
More hours passed, and the journey wasn't particularly exciting so far.
'Jeez… Nothing much is happening here… At least something, eh!'
"Are we there yet, eh?" asked the homeschooled again.
"Not yet," answered Altaïr, who was slowly losing his patience as Ezekiel had asked the same question half an hour ago, but he tried to remain calm.
But ten minutes later…
"Are we there-"
"NO!" Altaïr exclaimed in frustration and stopped his horse.
"Oh! Sorry, sir!" Ezekiel apologized, halting as well, hoping he hadn't upset him badly.
Altaïr grabbed his nose and exhaled, "I told you, we'll either get there this evening or tomorrow. So stop asking me about it for every ten minutes."
"I'm sorry, eh. I'm just bored. Nothing much is happening here."
"Do you have trouble finding anything interesting outside, or is that just a typical problem for people from the future?"
"Actually, I don't go outside much, eh."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I'm homeschooled. Only my parents are teaching me."
"Only your parents? No other teachers?" Altaïr blinked in confusion.
"My parents are both home economics teachers, which is why I didn't have to go to school, eh. But in general, I enjoy homeschooling. My mom is actually my favorite and best teacher! She's taught me a lot of things, like music! Especially how to play the harmonica and the kazoo!"
"Harmonica and kazoo?"
"Those are musical instruments that you blow into and they make a melody, eh! And also Mom taught me to speak eight languages!"
"Eight languages?"
"That's right, sir! I know English, Canadian French, Latin, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Japanese, and American Sign Language!"
"You know what, Zeke?" Altaïr got an idea. "Since you're bored, you can keep telling me about yourself during the journey."
"Great idea, eh!" agreed the homeschooled boy, and the two continued on their journey. As they walked, Ezekiel kept talking about himself and something from the future.
Altar mostly just listened, since he didn't understand much of what was being said, but occasionally he would ask a question out of curiosity. "You ran away to the local school once, and your mother found you there?"
"Exactly, eh!" Ezekiel chuckled a little, scratching the back of his neck. "That was the most embarrassing thing in my life."
'Until my elimination in World Tour…'
"Why did you run away, since you said you enjoy homeschooling?"
"Well…" Ezekiel paused for a moment, "I kinda wanted to hang out with kids my age, but they didn't like me anyway. They called me awful names like 'weirdo', 'creep', and 'redneck', eh."
Altaïr looked suddenly concerned at his words, "Do you have any friends at all, Zeke?"
"Ehm… Do the animals on my farm count?" the homeschooled grinned sheepishly.
"Only animals? No peers?"
"No, eh," Ezekiel shook his head, clumsily stroking the horse's neck.
"So your parents isolated you from the other children?" Altaïr followed up with another question, a hint of sharpness in his voice. "What were they trying to achieve with this?"
Ezekiel's eyes widened. He quickly pondered it and realized that Altaïr might be right. "Well…" he struggled to find the words, "Once I asked my parents why they were homeschooling me, they told me it was for my own good, and that I would only be exposed to the finest sorts of people, and receive the highest standard of education."
Altaïr remained silent, contemplating his words. The way Ezekiel had been raised was similar to how he himself had been raised in the Brotherhood. The only difference was that he had been trained to become an Assassin and fight against enemies in the Holy Land. Besides, he had interacted with other Assassins his age in the Brotherhood, while Ezekiel was alone.
"Altaïr? Are you okay?" Ezekiel broke in, looking troubled.
"I just don't understand how anyone could-"
"There! Infidels! Death to the infidels!" Suddenly, one of the Saracen guards nearby yelled, and they drew their swords, ready to attack them.
"Zeke! Gallop!" Altaïr commanded, "YAH!" He lashed his horse with the reins and began to gallop away.
Ezekiel quickly mimicked him, "YEEHAW, EH!" and his horse also started galloping, racing straight after Altaïr. Due to the speed of the gallop, Ezekiel held on to the horse's neck in panic, as he wasn't used to it. Unexpectedly, his horse ran faster than Altaïr's and passed him.
"Zeke! Slow down!" Altaïr shouted, running after him.
Ezekiel saw the ravine ahead of him and was terrified. "Oh, no!"
"Pull the reins towards you! That's how you'll stop!" Altaïr instructed him.
Ezekiel pulled on the reins to stop the horse. "Stop! Stop! STOP!" At the last moment, the horse halted right in front of the cliff. Ezekiel was gasping for breath, still in shock from what could have ended his life.
"Zeke! Are you all right?" Altaïr trotted over to him.
"Y-Yeah, eh," Ezekiel nodded his head, gazing in terror at the cliff.
"There are those infidels!" The soldiers were right on their heels. "Get them!"
"Quick! Follow me!" Altaïr ordered, and they both galloped off. This time, Ezekiel's horse followed Altaïr, and they managed to lose the soldiers.
Their horses slowed to a trot when they realized they were out of danger.
"Who were they?" Ezekiel asked breathlessly, "They didn't look like crusaders."
"Precisely. All right, let's not waste any more time. We'll be in Masyaf soon…"
In the evening, the pair were nearing their destination. Ezekiel noticed men around them who were dressed similarly to Altaïr, except that their hoods and sleeves were gray. They were other Assassins. Though Ezekiel couldn't see their faces clearly beneath their hoods, he sensed that they were watching him, which made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.
They reached the gate, and in the distance they could see the fortress on the mountain. "Whoa, eh…" Ezekiel held his breath in amazement, "Is that where you live?"
Altaïr gave a nod, reined in his horse by the stable, and dismounted. Ezekiel stopped beside him, tried to climb down, but lost his balance and fell to the ground. "OUCH!"
"Stop fooling around and follow me," Altaïr said sternly.
"Jeez, fine, eh," Ezekiel stood up annoyedly and dusted himself off, "You could at least check to see if I'm okay."
Altaïr simply remained quiet, which made Ezekiel scowl, but he followed him anyway as they walked through the village.
The villagers of Masyaf gave him looks ranging from puzzlement to judgement. Some whispered among themselves. It was surely because of his modern clothes. He didn't have a good feeling about it.
"Zeke," Altaïr addressed him, "Before you meet my master, you'd better not say you're from the future and from Canada, but from somewhere else, like… England, alright?"
"Oh, okay," Ezekiel concurred.
'I hope that master will be okay with me… If not, this might be the end of me…'
The closer they got to the fortress, the more anxious Ezekiel felt, and he gulped. They passed through the fortress gate, and in front of them was a training ring where two other Assassins were practicing with swords, while an older Assassin, their instructor, yelled instructions at them.
Around the ring, other Assassins and a few civilians were watching until they turned to look at them. Ezekiel waved awkwardly at them, trying to appear friendly, but the Assassins didn't react too welcoming toward him. The older ones looked confused and judgmental, while the younger ones mocked him, but fortunately, Ezekiel didn't understand them.
The two entered the fortress, where several guards stood with their swords in hand, prepared to intervene if necessary. Inside, it looked like a library, and scholars in white robes were walking around, organizing the books. It was surprisingly quiet… Deadly quiet…
"We're here," Altaïr announced, "Stay silent until Al Mualim speaks to you, and show him respect."
"Al Mualim?" Ezekiel asked, but Altaïr shushed him. The homeschooled boy covered his mouth and gave a nod in understanding.
They walked upstairs and arrived at the office, where a man in black robes stood with his back to them in front of a large window.
"Master," Altaïr greeted him in Arabic and bowed respectfully.
"Altaïr. Do you have news for me?" inquired Al Mualim, still gazing out the window at the training Assassins.
"Garnier de Naplouse is dead."
"Excellent!" the master rejoiced and turned to him. "We could not have hoped for a more agreeable outcome." Al Mualim had a thick gray beard and was blind in his right eye.
"And yet…" Altaïr continued.
"What is it…?" Al Mualim wanted to know about their target, but his good eye spotted a new face. "Actually, who is that boy standing next to you, Altaïr?"
"This is Ezekiel. I found him while I was traveling from Acre," Altaïr introduced him. "You won't believe it, but he managed to outwit a group of crusaders. I saw it with my own eyes, and I think he'll be quite useful to our brotherhood."
With his healthy left eye, Al Mualim glanced at the boy, who gulped uneasily and bowed politely, as Altaïr had done a moment ago.
"He speaks only English," Altaïr added, "But I believe we can teach him to speak Arabic, too."
Al Mualim nodded and addressed the homeschooled: "Where are you from, young man?" he asked him in English.
Ezekiel gathered his courage and answered: "I'm from Cana-"
"Ahem!" Altaïr's cleared throat interrupted him.
'Ah… I'm supposed to lie…'
"I mean… From England… More specifically from… From Kington, eh!" Ezekiel grinned uncertainly, "That's why I'm dressed so unusually."
"Is it true that you outwitted a group of crusaders?" Al Mualim inquired further.
"You could say that, I suppose. If I hadn't, I'd be dead, wouldn't I?"
"And are you sincerely interested in joining our brotherhood?"
"I'd rather be somewhere than out on the street alone. I have nowhere else to go."
"Hmm…" Al Mualim pondered, scratching his beard.
Ezekiel couldn't read his expression, and that made him even more insecure. He shifted his gaze to Altaïr, who stood still, waiting just as eagerly for his master's decision. Ezekiel was overwhelmed by the same discomfort he had felt during the elimination ceremony, when he was one of the last remaining.
'He will say no. He will say no! I'm lost!'
Altaïr noticed that Ezekiel was trembling with nervousness. He didn't know if he should calm him down, but he didn't want to show any signs of emotion in front of the Master.
"All right, boy," Al Mualim concluded, "We lost several of our brothers a few weeks ago, and we need some new blood. Besides, you're still young, so there's a chance we can awaken your potential."
Ezekiel's eyes lit up with joy. He finally had another chance to prove himself. He didn't dare mess it up this time. He wanted to jump up and cheer, but he had to remain polite, so he bowed instead.
"Thank you very much, Master, eh! I won't let you down!" he told him enthusiastically, even though it looked ridiculous. Altaïr groped his nose bridge in embarrassment.
"Your training begins tomorrow, Ezekiel. Have some good rest," Al Mualim stated, ignoring Ezekiel's childish behavior. "Altaïr, escort him to his chamber, then return to me so we can discuss the success of your mission."
"Sure, Master," Altaïr nodded and glanced at the homeschooled boy, "Follow me, Zeke."
Al Mualim returned to watching out the window, while Altaïr escorted Ezekiel to his chamber.
"I apologize for getting too excited. I can't believe I got another chance, eh!" Ezekiel said happily.
"Fine, but don't do that in front of him next time," Altaïr reminded him. "That's not how Assassins behave."
"Sorry, yo."
"Assassins don't even say… Yo…"
"Not at all, eh?"
"And why do you keep saying 'eh' at the end of almost every sentence?"
"Where I'm from, that's how we speak there, eh."
Altaïr rolled his eyes dismissively. "Whatever. Most novices sleep in one chamber together, but I guess since you're new here, you get your own."
"Oh nice, eh!" Ezekiel grinned.
"And act more… mature. To show the master that you'll be useful to us, not some fool. And just in case, don't tell anyone you're from the future, deal?"
"Huh… If you say so."
"Anyways, we're here," Altaïr informed him as they stopped in front of the door to an empty chamber. "Tomorrow, the maids will bring you your new robes, and the Master will induct you as a novice into the Brotherhood."
"And what about you, eh?"
"I must continue my important mission, but I will keep returning to Masyaf."
"Okay!" Ezekiel agreed and shook Altaïr's hand excitedly, "Thanks again for helping me! I'm truly grateful!"
"You're welcome…" Altaïr pulled his hand away from him and turned to leave.
"Where are you going, eh?" Ezekiel wondered.
"I'm going to see the master. You get some sleep for tomorrow's training."
"Then good night, eh!" Ezekiel bid farewell and closed the door behind him.
He couldn't wait for his first day of training, the beginning of his true redemption. Perhaps this is how he'll return home to the future and show everyone that he's more than everyone believed…
A few years before signing up for Total Drama, Ezekiel ran away from home to a local school, where later his mom found him. When they returned home, he was in the middle of getting scolded by his dad, which wasn't very pleasant.
"How dare you run away from home, eh?" spoke Ezekiel's father in a stern voice.
Ezekiel was standing in front of him, staring at the floor in humiliation, while his mother sat uneasily next to the kitchen table.
"Dad, I…" Ezekiel attempted to defend himself, "I-I wanted to meet kids my own age-" but his father cut him off.
"There's a reason your mother and I are homeschooling you, Ezekiel! Those children were making fun of you!"
"But there were some who weren't rude to me, and I was going to make friends with them before Mom arrived, eh. Can I still meet up with them and-"
"No, Ezekiel! They aren't the kind of people you should be hanging out with, eh! Only with the best people! And that school would never give you the best education that I and your mother can!"
Ezekiel glared at him, tears filling his eyes.
"Don't cry those pathetic tears, eh! Real men don't cry!"
"But, Dad-"
"Stop whining! Act more like a man!" he snapped coldly, "How can you protect women if you can't even handle this? You're not tough enough, eh," and he stormed out of the kitchen.
Ezekiel struggled not to cry, but his emotions overtook him and he let a flood of tears stream from his eyes.
"Ezekiel, sweetheart," his mom spoke sorrowfully. He rushed over to her and hugged her.
"M-Mom? W-Why don't you i-intervene, eh?" Ezekiel sniffled.
She merely sighed mournfully, "Daddy is the head of the household, eh. But I'll talk to him later so he won't be too hard on you. Okay, Zekey?"
"T-Thanks, Mom," Ezekiel smiled sadly in her embrace, and suddenly someone knocked on the door…
Ezekiel awoke from his dream and turned to look at the door. "Y-Yes, eh?" he mumbled drowsily, rubbing his eyes. It was already morning.
A maid entered carrying his new robes. She greeted him in Arabic, which he didn't understand, but he simply nodded, and she placed them on his bed. She bowed and left. Ezekiel stepped out of bed and inspected his new clothes.
The robes were white, with only the hood and sleeves tinged with gray, which likely meant low rank. The "skirt" of the robes was slightly shorter than Altaïr's. He noticed that his sash was green, unlike all the other Assassins in the Brotherhood, who wore red. He got dressed, then checked his appearance in the mirror.
"Whooo! I look awesome in this, eh!" Ezekiel posed, making rapper hand gestures. "Yo yo yo, homie~! I'm an Assassin, I'm class in, ehhhh~!" he rapped and laughed. Then he glanced at his toque and picked it up.
He couldn't wear it, since he had to wear a hood. "I hope I find a way to get home… Mom…" he whispered to himself, hugged the toque, placed it on the nightstand, and walked out of the room.
He walked down the hallway, his footsteps echoing off the stone floor. Around him were the other Assassins, who gave him a variety of looks: judgmental, perplexed to taunting. Ezekiel ignored them, as it would be a waste of time, and he probably needed to see his new master, who was surely preparing his first training assignment for him.
"What do you mean I have to mentor him!?" A angry voice shouted in Arabic. It was Altaïr, who was in the middle of a heated argument with the master. Ezekiel stopped and watched. Despite not understanding a single word they were saying, he didn't feel comfortable with the situation.
"You want me to kill the remaining seven targets while I have to babysit a novice who's more of a burden than a help!?" Altaïr continued furiously.
"You're the one who brought that boy to us, and now all of a sudden you don't want anything to do with him," Al Mualim snapped at him. "He'll only help you with the investigations and you two will learn together. And only you will carry out the assassination, while he will stay at the bureau. You want to regain your lost honor and redemption, right?"
Altaïr growled, but glanced down at the floor in defeat. "Yes, Master…"
"Excellent. You and Ezekiel will go to Jerusalem, where your next target is: Talal. Your next rank has been restored to you. Now take it and go," Al Mualim concluded, turning his gaze back to the window.
Altaïr gathered his gear, which consisted of throwing knives on his belt, and walked away from the table. He noticed Ezekiel standing by the stairs and went over to him. He felt irritation towards the boy from the future for being his responsibility now, but he didn't show it on his face.
"Good morning, Altaïr!" Ezekiel greeted him energetically, waving his hand. "What's up, eh?"
Altaïr looked up. "The ceiling?" he asked in confusion.
"Hahah! I did the same thing when someone told me that for the first time, eh!" Ezekiel laughed. "It means 'How are you?'"
"Ah, I see. That's something you have from the future, I assume. Speaking of which… You're coming with me on a mission, Zeke."
"What, really?" Ezekiel marveled, "Shouldn't I learn the basics first?"
"The Master wants me to teach you to be an Assassin. You're coming with me to Jerusalem."
"Jerusalem? That sounds great, eh!" Ezekiel said eagerly.
"Calm down! That's not how the Assassins behave. You have to keep a low profile and act more… Serious. Now come with me…"
Ezekiel agreed, lifted his head with a solemn expression, and followed Altaïr out of the fortress. Training was already in progress in the ring outside.
"Altaïr!" One of the Assassins, who was an instructor, stopped them. He wore gray kohl that covered the lower half of his face. "It seems my students do not fully understand what it is to wield a blade. Perhaps you can show them what you know."
As Altaïr was about to head for the ring, an idea struck him. "Rauf, actually, I have a suggestion," he proposed. "Do you know about our new member?"
"Oh, definitely! I've heard!" Rauf confirmed. "That's the young man next to you, correct?"
"Yes. This is Ezekiel. After I show off my skills, it would be good for him to try holding the blade as well."
"That's not a bad idea, my friend!" Rauf rejoiced.
"And also, he only speaks English," Altaïr noted.
"All right, then," said the instructor, glancing at the new novice. Though Ezekiel couldn't see his whole face, he could tell from his eyes that Rauf was excited. "Ezekiel, I'm Rauf, the combat instructor. Altaïr will show us how to handle the sword, and then you'll give it a try, sound good?"
"Okay, eh!" Ezekiel puffed out his chest confidently, "It'll be a piece of cake!"
"Don't underestimate it, Zeke…" Altaïr warned him strictly as he entered the ring and began fencing practice with another novice.
Ezekiel watched him and was impressed by how elegantly and professionally Altaïr fought with his sword, easily defeating the novice without breaking a sweat.
'Dang, eh… I can't wait to do that myself…'
"And that, my students…" Rauf spoke up, "That's how we should all fight." He turned to Ezekiel and handed him a wooden sword. "Now it's your turn, Ezekiel. Your opponent will be Misfar."
Ezekiel mustered up his courage, took the sword in his hand, and stepped into the ring with Misfar. Misfar wore the same novice robes as him, except that his belt sash was colored red.
"Prepare to lose to The Zeke, eh!" taunted Ezekiel as he braced himself for the fight.
"Wait, Ezekiel!" Rauf stopped him. "You're holding that sword wrong!" and he adjusted his grip correctly.
"Oh, right, eh…" Ezekiel felt embarrassed and cleared his throat, but his confidence returned immediately. "Now prepare to lose to The Zeke!" he declared, and the duel began.
Misfar rushed at him first and struck his sword hard against Ezekiel's. At this point, Ezekiel realized that fencing wasn't as easy as it had seemed at first glance. He swung his sword at his opponent, who kept dodging him. Ezekiel had had enough and began spinning around, hoping to hit Misfar.
"Ezekiel! You're doing it wrong!" Rauf cautioned him, but Ezekiel didn't listen and lost his balance as Misfar tripped him, causing him to fall to the ground. The other novices burst out laughing, and Altaïr facepalmed.
Ezekiel's sword slipped from his hands, flying toward an Assassin leaning against the gate and hitting him in the head. "AHHH!" the Assassin screamed in pain.
"Oh, Allah! Abbas!" Rauf ran to him, "Are you all right, brother?"
Abbas groaned in pain, rubbing his forehead. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine…" he assured him coldly and looked at Ezekiel, who was getting back to his feet.
"I'm sorry, sir, eh!" Ezekiel apologized, "I didn't mean any harm!" but Abbas only gave him a murderous stare and walked off into the fortress.
'Shizzle. I hope he doesn't take it too personally.'
Rauf returned to the ring and looked at the new novice with disappointment. "Ezekiel, I guess you're not yet ready for a duel, but it's not bad for a complete beginner."
"Thanks, sir," Ezekiel bowed his head, feeling embarrassed as all the novices were laughing at him. He stepped out of the ring sheepishly and approached Altaïr. "Sooo…? How did I do, eh?" he grinned awkwardly at him.
"Terrible," Altaïr admitted honestly, "But truth be told, you need to learn the basics first, and it'll be better next time."
Ezekiel gave a slight smile. "Yeah. True, eh. As I said that. After all, it was your idea, but at least it was fun."
"Right… Listen, Zeke. Before we go, I'll show you one more thing."
"What is it?"
"Follow me," Altaïr motioned with his hand, heading toward a tall ladder and climbing up.
Ezekiel followed him and carefully climbed up. He looked down behind him and squeaked quietly with fear. Fortunately, he gathered the rest of his bravery and climbed up to the top of the tower.
"Come on, eh! Another ladder?" the homeschooled boy complained, "Why don't you have stairs here?"
"At least this one isn't as tall as the previous one," Altaïr remarked indifferently as he climbed up the second ladder. Ezekiel rolled his eyes and went after him.
In front of them were three wooden platforms, and Altaïr stood on the one to his right. Ezekiel cautiously stepped next to him and was seized with terror when he looked down at the cliff.
"Ehm… Why are we here, eh?" Ezekiel inquired timidly.
"We call this the Leap of Faith," Altaïr explained, "We jump from a great height so we can escape from our enemies."
"And you'll be fine? It looks way too high, eh."
"If you land on the hay, you'll be fine."
Ezekiel fell deep in thought, staring down at the hay, and no longer listening to Altaïr.
'I mean, I jumped off a thousand-foot cliff into the water as the first challenge on Total Drama Island, and I fell out of a plane into a haystack and got alright… So this will be chill!'
"Just one thing, you have to be careful not to-"
"I'm gonna do it, eh!" the homeschooled declared confidently.
"What!?" Altaïr got startled, "Zeke! Wait-!"
Ezekiel dashed forward and leaped off the platform, "YEEEHAAAAAAW!!!" he exclaimed with delight as he landed in the haystack.
"ZEKE! NO!" Altaïr freaked out.
Ezekiel peeked out from the haystack after landing, "Yo, Altaïr! I'm alright!" he called out to him with a smile, feeling proud of himself for nailing it.
Altaïr leaped down with his arms spread wide, the eagle screeched, and he landed elegantly in the second haystack.
"Whoa…" Ezekiel admired, "That was amazing, eh!"
"Why did you jump down recklessly without my permission!?" Altaïr snapped furiously after coming out of the pile of hay, and approached him.
"But you said I'd be fine!" Ezekiel argued.
"You won't be fine if you keep jumping off high places like this, since you're still a novice! You could break your leg or lose your life doing that! And don't scream 'yeehaw' or whatever the hell that was! You'll easily expose yourself to enemies like this!"
"Okay, okay! Sorry, eh!" Ezekiel went out of the haystack and dusted himself off, "If you didn't actually want me to do it, why did you take me there then?"
Altaïr crossed his arms firmly. "I wanted to show you how I do it. Not that you should jump. Novices perform the Leap of Faith elsewhere, from a lower height."
"But I survived, eh!" Ezekiel scowled, "I also survived a fall from a plane that was much higher than this tower, and I didn't even have any scratch! And I even survived an attack of fifteen crusaders."
"You wouldn't have survived those crusaders if I hadn't saved you at the last moment," Altaïr recalled dryly. Ezekiel paused and sighed in frustration as he remembered that Altaïr had saved him from falling off the cliff.
'Ah… He's right…'
"You know what? Never mind," Altaïr concluded. "We have to leave for Jerusalem immediately. Let's go."
Ezekiel didn't protest and walked behind him. He understood that Altaïr didn't want to get into trouble if his novice died on the first day. He didn't want that either, since he thought Altaïr was totally cool and didn't want to let him down. He had to listen to him first and then act. That way, he could better show his potential.
They both walked through the village, but this time the villagers didn't recognize him due to his new clothes. They reached their respective horses, mounted them, and headed off.
As they traveled through the deserted region, Ezekiel's lessons began. It was unusual for him to learn while riding a horse, but it was interesting. Right now, Altaïr was explaining the laws and tenets of the creed to him.
"The first tenet is: Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent," stated Altaïr.
"What's that mean, eh?" questioned Ezekiel.
"That you must not harm innocent people, especially civilians."
"So we fight against those who have committed a crime?"
"Correct," confirmed Altaïr.
'Like Chris McLean…' Ezekiel frowned, but kept his curiosity on his face.
"The second tenet is: Hide in plain sight," Altaïr continued, "You must remain unseen so that your enemies do not catch you. It is best to blend into the crowd and remain anonymous. That way, you will reach your target more easily."
"I see, eh."
"And the third, most important tenet: Never compromise the Brotherhood. Your actions must not put other members of the Brotherhood in harm. Intentionally or unintentionally."
"That makes sense."
"And the maxim of our creed is: Nothing is true, everything is permitted."
"And what do those words mean, eh?" Ezekiel inquired puzzled, "It doesn't make much sense to me, since you have certain rules."
"Well…" Altaïr pondered what exactly to respond, "We'll have to figure that out together."
"Huh?" Ezekiel didn't understand. "I thought you knew everything, eh."
"To be honest, my important mission is actually my journey to redemption."
"Oh my god! You don't say! Basically, I'm working on my own redemption, too, eh!" Ezekiel exclaimed in surprise, then quickly grew solemn. "What have you actually done, since you're supposed to be working on your redemption?"
Altaïr didn't answer, leaving a few minutes of awkward silence between them. "Altaïr? Are you there, eh?" Ezekiel spoke up, "You didn't answer my question."
"I'll tell you next time…" Altaïr responded without a trace of emotion, "Let's focus on the journey instead."
'What secret is Altaïr hiding? Is it something everyone knows except me? Or is it something he's deeply ashamed of? Wait? And is it just me, or is he really missing his left ring finger? I noticed it right now.'
"Altaïr?" Ezekiel addressed him again.
"What?" Altaïr snarled irritably.
"Now I notice you're missing your left ring finger. How did it happen?"
Altaïr lifted his left hand, and a blade popped out of the sheath, startling Ezekiel enough that he had to halt his horse.
"Holy cow, eh!" Ezekiel gasped, "You amputated your finger for… a popping sheath blade?"
"This is called the Hidden Blade," Altaïr retorted in a proud tone, "The perfect weapon for a stealthy kill."
Ezekiel became nervous. "Does this mean I have to lose a finger to get one, eh?" The thought of losing a part of his body seemed horrifying to him.
"Yes. In a few years, when you reach a higher rank, you'll get your own Hidden Blade. By cutting off your ring finger, you show your loyalty to the creed," the Assassin explained, "But don't worry, you still have time."
"And… Did it hurt?"
"A lot, but conquering pain shows your strength and resilience."
"Jeez, eh, I don't know… Having one finger less seems kinda impractical."
"Probably, but this tradition has been around in the brotherhood for around a thousand years."
"I don't want to be rude or anything, but who would come up with such a dumb idea as to cut off their own finger and say, 'Ah, yeah, eh! This will show my loyalty to the creed, even if it makes it harder to handle things! Great!'"
Altaïr merely rolled his eyes, but agreed with a nod. "To tell the truth… You're not wrong… No one knows the true origin of this tradition, but perhaps one day someone will change it and we won't have to sacrifice our ring fingers anymore."
"I hope that happens very soon, eh! I want to keep all my beloved fingers in one piece!"
Altaïr made the slightest playful smirk, but it was very brief, and he quietly focused on the path ahead. Ezekiel continued to follow him and decided not to bother him with more questions. He gazed at his left hand, specifically at his ring finger.
'I hope I can have that sick blade without losing my finger… But if that's the price I have to pay for my redemption, so be it…'
The journey to Jerusalem lasted about five days. The two Assassins stopped when they saw the holy city in the distance.
"Wow…" Ezekiel admired the view, "It looks so magnificent here, eh…"
"We can't waste any time," Altaïr interrupted him, "Let's take the horses to the stable and figure out how to get into the city."
"What? Can't we walk through the gate?"
"The gate is heavily guarded. They won't allow us to pass through. If we attempt to do so, we'll expose ourselves, and it won't end well…"
They both rode towards the city entrance, stopped their horses by the stable, and dismounted. They glanced at the gate, where six guards were guarding. They crossed over to the cemetery, where they saw another group of guards harassing a scholar.
"Zeke, stay here and look away…" Altaïr told him. Ezekiel realized what Altaïr meant and hid behind a stone wall in the cemetery, while Altaïr approached the guards and a combat began.
Ezekiel heard the clashing of steel swords and the screams from a distance and covered his ears. He knew that he was in the Middle Ages and that killing was generally normal at that time, yet he still felt extremely uncomfortable.
'What if they kill Altaïr? Then what will I do? And in fact… Now that I'm an Assassin, am I supposed to kill people as well? No! That's not my style! If anything, I'll only injure my opponent and flee! I don't want to be a murderer after all! I have standards!'
Soon, everything fell quiet, and someone emerged from behind the wall, causing Ezekiel to jump and scream like a little girl. Fortunately, it was Altaïr, surprisingly unscathed from fight.
"Oh, thank God! You're alive, eh!" Ezekiel was relieved. "What do we do now?"
"The scholar those guards were harassing offered to help us," Altaïr stated. "A group of other scholars is coming, and we'll go through the gate with them."
"And where are they?"
"They're arriving right the way…" Four scholars approached the two, whispering prayers. "Let's line up among them and pretend to pray."
"Ah, so we'll be like cuckoos in a nest, eh?"
"What's a cuckoo? Oh, there's no time. Move along."
"But I'm wearing a gray hood. They'll probably recognize me easily."
"You'll be alright, and stop complaining," scolded Altaïr, taking his place in the middle of the group and pretending to pray.
"I'm not complaining- Ah, fine, eh," Ezekiel snapped irritably, placed his palms together, and lined up next to Altaïr.
"Put your left hand in a fist and cover it with your right hand. Like this," Altaïr instructed him, showing him the correct hand position, and Ezekiel obeyed.
The scholars moved slowly toward the gate. Ezekiel swallowed tensely as they approached. Luckily, the guards merely nodded, stepped aside, and let the scholars and Assassins into city. Ezekiel let out a quiet sigh of relief.
When they were far enough away from the guards, the pair split from the scholars and headed toward the street. Ezekiel found himself enchanted by the beauty of the vibrant city. Merchants from their stalls beckoned their customers, women carried jugs on their heads, and civilians walked through the city on their way to work or to buy goods.
'It looks incredible here…'
"Let's hurry up," Altaïr urged him impatiently.
"Oh, come on, man," Ezekiel crossed his arms, "Wouldn't it be good for me to explore the city first?"
"We have to visit the bureau first to get instructions from Rafiq on where to start, and then we can explore the city."
"Okay, I guess," the novice consented and followed him down the alley.
They soon reached the ladder and climbed up onto the flat roof, where the entrance to the bureau was located. Altaïr leaped down with elegance and landed gracefully on his feet. This startled the pigeons in the coop, and they flew out through the exit. They passed over Ezekiel, who was blinded by them, lost his balance, and fell down into the bureau, landing on his face.
"OW!" yelped Ezekiel in pain.
"Oh, Allah! Are you alright, Zeke?" Altaïr fretted and helped him stand up.
"Yeeeaaah, eeh…" Ezekiel's mind was spinning so much he could only see stars, and he spat out a feather. "Those pigeons flew right into my face, but don't blame them."
"Strange. You'd normally get knocked out, maybe even killed, from a fall like this."
"Huh, I thought the same thing when I fell out of the plane, eh."
Altaïr nodded. "Wait here. I'm going to talk to Rafiq," he told him and went into the other room.
Regardless of the command, Ezekiel approached the door frame, driven by curiosity, and leaned in discreetly to listen to their conversation. During their journey here, Altaïr had taught him an Arabic, and surprisingly, Ezekiel had managed to learn it quickly, so he could understand them. At least a tiny bit.
"Safety and peace, Malik," Altaïr greeted the man with short black hair, who was wearing a black and white robes and was missing his left arm. He shot the newcomer a sour look.
"Your presence here deprives me of both," Malik snarled in greeting. His brown eyes were filled with hatred for Altaïr. "What do you want?"
"Al Mualim has asked-"
"Asked that you perform some menial task and train some English novice in a effort to redeem yourself," Malik cut him off harshly, "So be out with it."
"Tell me what you can about the one they call Talal."
"It is your duty to locate and assassinate the man, Altaïr. Not mine."
"You'd do well to assist me and my student. His death benefits the entire land."
"Do you deny his death benefits you as well?"
"Such things do not concern you."
"Your actions very much concern me!" Malik exclaimed, pointing to his missing arm.
'Shizzle… What terrible thing did Altaïr do to make this Malik guy hate him so much?'
Malik's gaze caught Ezekiel behind the frame, who waved at him with a shy smile. Rafiq looked confused at his silly gesture, but shifted his attention back to Altaïr.
"Then don't help us," Altaïr argued arrogantly, turning to leave. "Ezekiel and I will find him on our own!"
Malik glanced at Ezekiel once more. He'd prefer not to help Altaïr, but he didn't want the novice to get into trouble because of him. Eventually, he sighed in defeat.
"Wait, wait," Altaïr stopped at the door as the one-armed Rafiq spoke up, "It won't do having you two stumble about the city like blind men. Better you know where to begin your search."
"Speak in English so Ezekiel can understand you better. We're listening," Altaïr concentrated.
"Alright, as you wish," Malik acquiesced, pointing his finger at the map in front of them: "I can think of three places. South of here in the markets that line the border between the Muslim and Jewish Districts, to the north near the mosque of this district, and east, in front of St. Anne's Church, close to the Bab Ariha gate."
"Is that everything?" Altaïr inquired to be certain.
"It's enough to get you two started," Malik stated, "And more than especially you deserve…"
"Thank you, sir Malik, eh!" Ezekiel thanked him and bowed gracefully. "Before we leave, let me introduce myself! I'm Ezekiel!" They exchanged handshakes.
"Nice to meet you, Ezekiel," Malik smiled slightly at the novice, "Perhaps one day you'll bring a great honor to our brotherhood… Unlike Altaïr here…" he shot a murderous glance at Altaïr, who glared back at him.
"Alright. Zeke, let's go," Altaïr beckoned him, and Ezekiel eagerly walked out of the room.
"And one more thing, Altaïr," Malik stopped him, "I hope he doesn't lose his life because of you… like my brother did."
Altaïr simply stared at him without expression and left. He helped Ezekiel climb out of the bureau, and they gazed out at the city.
Ezekiel's real training begins…
