The city of Damascus was basking in the early morning sun as Altair Ibn-La'Ahad pulled his mount up at the top of the road. Bells were chiming in the distance as the city gates opened allowing people and horses out. Pulling the courser's head around, he rode down the road as he drew up the hood over his head. It had been many months since he had last returned to Damascus yet it seemed already that it was too soon.

It could have been just yesterday that I was here last.

Altair thought to himself as he pulled his horse to a stop at the stables outside the city. He swung down from the saddle, giving the grey courser a pat on the neck before striding in the main gate. The guards that stood there were busy harassing several young traders and took no interest in him.

He would not have come to Damascus had it not been for a message he received only two days earlier from. There was an informant here in Damascus, it was said. Someone who had information regarding more ancient artifacts. The Apple of Eden in Altair's possession had been left behind in Masyaf. He had spent months studying the artifact, fascinated by it's powers and knowledge. But with the threat of Templers so close to wielding another powerful artifact, he had roused himself from his studies and set out to Damascus.

The streets of Damascus were bustling with activity as people lined up to leave the gates. He passed traders, farmers and other travelers while keeping his eyes averted. The city had not changed much in his time away, he concluded as he stepped down an alley to avoid beggars in the streets. The city had not been affected by the war, and remained much as it had several years ago. He was relieved to find that, as his memory served him in navigating the busy streets.

His stomach grumbled as he passed by many street vendors selling falafel and shawarma. There would be time to eat later, he reminded himself as he allowed his gaze to skirt up to the rooftops. It would be much faster, but even now he could see the guards atop of the roofs gazing down at the streets below. No, he would keep to the streets for now at least. He did not want anyone to know he was in Damascus. Not when he had no knowledge of how many Templers had come to the city in search of this artifact.

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Inside the small room were two decent sized beds, a small table between them and a dresser that sat alone near the right corner of the room. The two small windows that would normally provide an excellent source of light for the entire room were, at the moment, completely useless considering how late it was in the night. The object inside the box, however, began to glow with a faint light that lit the whole inside of the box. Walking to the small wooden table and gently placing the box down, Haytham caught the attention of the sudden change.

Finally, Haytham placed both hands firmly on to the sphere and took it out from it's temporary home before walking to the middle of the room. The light slowly dimmed down once it was touched, allowing for The Grand Master to inspect it more closely. Haytham inhaled suddenly, clearly caught off guard by the sudden act, but remained just as astonished as he was when he opened the package and first laid eyes on the object inside.
With the light now down strange lines and markings that were engraved around the ball suddenly became visible. The rest of the golden ball now lost it's light, but the lines carved around it remained brightly lit, which only further amazed the man holding the object.

"Where have I seen such markings before." He spoke quietly to himself, rotating the ball just slightly now in his right hand. All else was blocked out as he continued to study the ball; the Tavern melodies being played and laughter of others down below his room - all was shut out. Suddenly it hit him, and his lips curved into a smile. The markings engraved on the door - the Temple door - The entrance to the Grand Temple.
"Well now. Isn't that interesting." He held his chin up and narrowed his eyes as he raised the ball up higher. "Reginald, you bastard." He shook his head as if in disbelief, but continued to hold the smile on his face. "The Precursors." He repeated from the letter.

Maybe this was the true key to unlocking the storehouse. Maybe it was what he needed all along. But just as the thought hit him, something else suddenly dawned on Haytham: What if there were more objects like this one - or perhaps even more powerful artifacts than the one he held now. It was once the Templars duty to track down such ancient items, and use them against the enemy. With their competitors now gone, what would stop them from simply locating such artifacts and using them for their own cause.
Another door had been opened - another grand opportunity that would surely benefit the Templars and eventually make them unstoppable. Then all would be as it should be - all would be right with the world.

"I suppose the Temple could wait. Yes." Haytham lowered his arm and turned back toward the door leading out the room. Outside, the others sat quietly to themselves - eagerly awaiting until the Grand Master would reappear with news regarding the strange artifact. Not a moment had passed before Haytham had indeed reappeared before his brethren, and could be seen walking back up to their table, the ball held close to his chest.
Charles shifted his stance against the wall and eyed the other man before opening his mouth to speak, but Haytham beat him to it. "Gentlemen," He addressed them all, and waved a hand for Charles to finally gather round and join them.
"Our plans have changed, but for the better, I assure you." Haytham revealed the orb to them all, and simply nodded his head when all he received were quiet awes. "Our new objective: locate these Precursor artifacts."

"You mean we just dig around and 'ope that we find somethin' shiny? Well, that can't be to 'ard now can it?" Laughed Hickey. Non too pleased with what he had just said, Charles stared at the drunken man. "I'm sure Master Kenway means for you to use the majority of /your/ men to do most of the "digging", Thomas." Charles interjected in a low, unamused tone. But Hickey simply turned his head to look at the Second in Command and huffed loudly. "Better be worth an extra pay for me, if that be the case." He slumped back hard into his chair, refusing to lose the staring contest he now had with Charles, who stood near the table in front of him.
"Gentlemen, peace." The Grand Master finally ordered, and he pulled the golden ball back up close to himself. "If this is done with great care and careful planning, then I assure you - it will be most enriching for us all."

Stepping back from the table, Haytham held up the ball to his view, and gave a quick glance to his brothers before putting his attention back on the sphere, which now began to glow and pulse just as it had done before. "We will then return to the Precursor Temple with both this sphere and the key that I possess." Haytham reassured his men with a quick nod, and they each lifted their drinks, save for Charles who simply nodded in return.
"Now, I need you al--" Before any more could be said, however, Haytham was cut off by the blinding light given off by the ball; the rest of the men also found themselves temporarily stunned and they shielded their eyes in pain. The light brightened the entire room and it completely engulfed the Grand Master before it let out a quick flash of white while the rest of the group continued to shield themselves from it's rays.

Then just as it had appeared, the light seemed to suck back in to itself - in to thin air - in to nothingness. The Grand Master, Haytham Kenway, vanished from where he stood - nowhere to be found, leaving the rest of his men in a silent state of panic.

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Hitting the rough ground with a thud, Haytham lost his grip on the sphere and it rolled from his hand and made it's way toward a stone wall. He laid motionless for no more than a few seconds before he regained his composure and stood back on his feet - dusting himself off once he was standing back up. He hit his waistcoat to rid whatever dirt remained before he approached the artifact with an irritated huff.
"I may have gotten more than I bargained for." He knelt down and cupped his right hand on to the ball and held it back up, only to place it back close to his chest. Gazing around in the alley he now occupied, Haytham was struck with a sense of deja vu. The sounds of crowded voices, the stone buildings standing tightly against one another, the desert breeze that brushed against his skin - it all seemed so familiar.

To the Grand Master's surprise, the location he had indeed been teleported to was non other than Damascus - the very place he had visited back in the 18th century. He couldn't help but grin to himself. It was the only explanation - this strange ball - this Apple of Eden. It was responsible for such an act. This was the exact kind of spiritual magic he had been looking for. Now he, the Grand Master of the Colonial Rite was in possession of the powerful artifact - not his enemies - and that was all that mattered.

The sense of accomplishment was short lived, as he quickly felt it being pushed away by a small touch of panic; how on earth was he to locate the remaining artifacts? And not just that, but how many where to be found in all? Surely he, even with the skills he possessed, was bound to need such help in recovering these artifacts for the Templars. But most of all: how was he to return to Boston? Haytham had unwillingly activated the ball somehow.
These thoughts rushed through his head, but taking a deep breath, he managed to relax.
"I will need to disguise myself, just as I did before." He looked toward the entrance of the alleyway and at the numerous crowd of civilians walking to and fro, unaware of his sudden presence. If he where to go out now, he was going to stand out without a doubt, and then there was to be no chance of accomplishing anything.

Pressing his back against the wall of one of the buildings, he eyed each person that walked passed the open alleyway, and staying within the shaded area, Haytham let out a quiet whistle to one man in particular - a man dressed in dark brown - hoping to rob him of his robes when he came to investigate.

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Altair walked slowly through the crowds, his head down and hidden beneath the hood of his white robes. He moved cautiously, not forgetting the troubles he had gotten in this city not long ago. But the guards were not looking for him that day. Not yet, at least. Still, it was not the guards he was worried about. It was the unknown presence of Templars in the city. The Templars who often had an uncanny ability to recognize him.

But as he moved through the crowds, looking from the scholars to the citizens and the guards passing by, Altair did not see anything out of ordinary. There were beggars on the street, some of which rushed up to him and he tossed a few coins upon the ground for them to get them out of his way. Food merchants worked at the sides of the streets along with the stall vendors, all of whom had set up their business for the day. He was getting further from the poor district now, which became apparent in his surroundings. The streets were cleaner, with little to no beggars. The streets were not as packed as the larger trading areas of the poor district, which was a relief to Altair although it was more difficult to blend in with the crowds. Scholars passed by in small groups in occasion and he took note of the routes they took. Just in case.

It would not be the first time I have been sent after a false lead. Altair thought to himself in distaste, pausing as he gathered his bearings. Perhaps I should have sent someone in my place. But he could not shake the feeling that it was not a dead end, and perhaps his informant was on the right lead. He could not take that chance of allowing the Templars to find this artifact. Especially after he has witnessed and used the powers of the Apple himself. Powerful artifacts should not fall in the wrong hands. He had seen first hand what an artifact such as the Apple of Eden could do and the influence it could have over people. Though it was now years since, he barely felt as though he had scratched the surface in the object. It was full of many powers and knowledge. Although he would have preferred to have stayed back to continue his studies on the artifact, he was starting to feel relieved he had decided to come himself. It was a change of scenery and routine. Though he had kept up with training the other assassins, Altair had spent far too much time for his liking in his study alone while he poured over the Apple. Perhaps a bit of action could do me some good. He thought to himself.

Rounding the corner, Altair nearly collided with a man dressed in dark brown, whose attention seemed to be elsewhere. Cursing under his breath, he stepped aside nearly into a group of courtesans whom were all calling out seductively to the men passing by. If his memory served correct, the Gardens would be close. The informant would be there, but would not be expecting Altair. He was meeting with another unknown person, and Altair hoped to get there in time to eavesdrop on the conversation if he could.

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Keeping within the safety of the shadows, Haytham slowly extended his right arm out, allowing for his hand to reach outside and into the light, but just barely. The move was enough to get the robed man's attention and keep his attention - even when another man, dressed in white, had almost bumped into him when passing by. The man did not falter and remained staring, unsure whether this stranger was calling for him or just someone he had not seen possibly standing somewhere around him.
Though as nervous as he now was, the man took a step away from where he stood, only to take one more quick look back at a group of women before finally averting his eyes back near the man standing in the alley.

"M-me?" The man mouthed, poking his chest. But Haytham only curled his pointer finger inward then out, gesturing for the man to come over. It became obvious to the robed man now, and he reluctantly began to walk closer near the buildings and away from the small groups of busy people. No one else even seemed to notice, as they were all busy with their own sorts.
Plus, it surely wasn't anything the guards couldn't handle, should something possibly arise.
After his foot hit the edge of the shadows, not even a second had passed before the man felt two rough hands quickly grip on to his shoulders and pull his body forward into the alleyway with a jerk.

With an arm wrapping tightly around the man, and a hand covering his mouth shut before he could make any attempt at a cry for help, the Templar dragged his first victim away from potential aid and near the back of the alleyway until he felt his back hit another stone wall. Feeling the man struggle only further increased his grip and he eyed the entrance of the alley - the image of a familiar robed figured walking passed repeatedly played back in his head.
The man he just barely caught a glimpse of was without a doubt an Assassin. Now he knew for certain that he had to have been sent back - sent back in time. But how far was now the question. It was only one more to add to his ever growing list; a list of questions he intended to have answered.

"Interesting. Most interesting." Haytham spoke out loud to himself, before shifting his attention on the robed man that now lay limp in his arms. Raising an eyebrow, Haytham could still feel a light huff of air coming from his nose, indicating that he was simply unconscious, and he placed the man gently down on to the ground. He pulled the robes off the man shortly after, not really caring whether they were a bit worn in and held them up in the dark.
The man let out a quiet moan in his sleep, to which Haytham simply smiled. "Seeing as I'm currently in need of your robes more than you, I doubt you'll mind if I take them off your hands - well, your body rather. Thank you."

Wrapping the brown cloth around himself, he took both his hat and the Apple and placed them inside the robe before placing the hood over his head. The fabric shielded his eyes from the rest of the world, but granted enough vision for himself to still have a good view on his surroundings. It was strange how he almost felt like an actual Assassin with his new disguise; though the looseness of the robes quickly took that feeling away - especially when he began to walk near the entrance of the alley.
"Now where have you gone." Haytham gazed about the area, his new hood taking good care of blocking the sun's rays as it rose ever higher into the sky.

Other than his face, hands and boots, Haytham was now completely hidden within the clothing, and thus hidden from the wary eyes of any onlookers while he crept down the streets of Damascus. Walking away from the alleyway, it was surprising to see there had not been as many people as he thought there was, which in turn made it easier to spot the man in white. And what had happened next was exactly that; the Templar had spotted his target with ease - no Eagle Vision required.
"Let's see where you take me. Maybe then I'll have my answers." His eyes stayed fixed on to the man that walked some ways ahead of him, but Haytham made sure to keep a steady pace and distance away so as to not seem suspicious.

Even with all the light bumps or forceful shoves he received while walking passed stranger after stranger, his attention remained focused on the hooded man walking in front. Clasping his hands together and bowing his head slightly, Haytham silently followed the Assassin while he managed to stay successfully blended within the area.
His sword rendered him useless with the long robe sleeves, but his Hidden Blades would take care of any that should suddenly show hostility. Hopefully nothing would happen for him to have to use his weapons - hopefully all would go well.

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It did not take long for the gardens to come into view, though Altair took his time making his way through the street. He did not want to appear in a hurry or attract any attention as a small group of guards passed by. He did not want to spill blood that day, but if it came to it, he would be well prepared.

He wandered past the first entrance to the gardens, choosing to enter from the north eastern gates. The gardens were massive, with it's own narrow alley ways and seating areas. Citizens were seen here and there throughout the gardens, some wandering it's paths while others sat upon the benches, chatting amongst themselves. None of them fit the profile of the man Altair was after. He continued on, his face hidden within the shadows of his hood as he scanned his surroundings, as always taking note of any possible escape routes.

It was not until Altair moved further within the gardens did he spot a man he assumed to be his target. Wearing robes of deep azure, the man was deep in conversation with another he could not see. Hannad, his name was. Altair kept his distance; he could not move closer without being seen. The two men spoke quietly, glancing around them as though they could feel his gaze upon them.

I must get closer. Altair thought to himself, moving his gaze around the clearing in the gardens but unable to find a way. They were too far from the nearest building, and the flowers and bushes of the gardens were not thick enough for concealment. Frustrated, he returned his gaze to the two men as Hammad pulled out a scroll from within his rolls and passed it off to the man. The man did not look at the scroll but slipped it within his own clothing and the two men parted ways.

Now Altair was forced to make a quick decision. He could follow Hammad back and see whom the informant would meet with, or perhaps even question him himself. Or he could follow this second man and see where that led him. The second man was slim; his robes the colour of burned chestnut, nearly the colour of his short cropped hair. His face was clean shaven; he seemed young to Altair. It occurred to him that this second man may be a courier. He could find Hammad again, but this courier could easily disappear within the crowds and he would then never learn what was on that scroll, or where he was taking it.

Unaware that anyone may be watching him, Altair moved through the gardens as the man strode along ahead of him. He was just far enough away that he could keep him in sight, but not close enough to arouse suspicion that he was following. Though he was curious to know what was on that scroll, he knew patience was his best move now. He could strike now, but risk never learning where this courier was headed. The young man it seemed, did not seem at all concerned that he was being followed. He wandered through the gardens without a backwards glance, unaware of Altair watching his every movement and following in the shadows.

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Keeping a steady pace from behind, Haytham continued his walk down the busy street. He no longer had trouble with people shoving their way past him and he began to somewhat enjoy himself; he was back in a familiar place after all - a place he hadn't been to for quite some time.
Even thought not much had really changed, it was still interesting to see how different things seemed to look compared to last time he was wandering the streets here.
However, the weather was still ever so annoying, and he hated how hot the place could get on most days. The endless blankets of dark cloud and miserable rain pouring down the past few weeks back in Boston, no doubt he would choose that over Damascus's weather any day - least in the Green Dragon Tavern he could nestle up warmly by a fire and drink with his allies.

Taking notice of a group of guards up ahead, the Templar in disguise slowed his speed just a little, but kept himself well hidden within his new robes. His heart began to drum in his chest and he kept his hands firmly together, trailing his thumb along his index finger as he moved his gaze away from the men and back onto the Assassin in white. He passed them without a hitch, then quickening his pace again he rose an eyebrow when his eyes saw the entrance to a well kept garden area.

This was a spot Haytham had never visited before, and it took him by surprise - just a little. Benches were placed neatly around and there were different paths ways to take in all directions - it was a sight to behold, and it looked quite welcoming and relaxing.
There was no time for sight seeing, however, and the Templar once again found himself eyeing the man in white and him alone.
Once he was fully inside, he found a bench close by and planted himself to it almost instantly. Luckily, for the moment, no one else was seated there. He watched, unaware of the conversation of two other men that the Assassin had his own eyes fixed on. It was now a waiting game for them both - a game of patience and careful planning. One wrong move and all would be lost.

Back in the alleyway, the man Haytham had attacked, what seemed like hours ago, was beginning to stir. He groaned before sitting himself up and placing a hand onto his throat, still feeling quite taken out. Suddenly it hit him, and he jumped up to his feet in a panic before dashing out from the shadowed alley and back into the morning sun. Removed of his precious brown robes and wearing nothing more than a white underclothing, the man began to shout, forcing those around him to listen.
"Help! I've been robed, please help! Guards, guards!" He cried, waving his hands into the air, and eyeing any that passed by him. "A man, a man - he stole my things!" He continued loudly like a small child that had lost a hold of his beloved toy.

Back in the beautiful gates of the garden, the Master Templar heard no such ruckus and simply continued to watch the Assassin stalk whoever he saw in front of him. By this time the two strange men Haytham could now see had just took their separate ways, and he slowly rose to his feet, ready to follow the Assassin wherever he decided to suddenly go.
"Getting nowhere with this." Haytham mumbled to himself, but he began to follow the Assassin yet again, allowing for him to lead him on.
This time though he quickened his speed and lifted his head up just a bit higher, though still all the while keeping a good enough distance. If there was anything this Assassin could lead him to, what was it the man he was following could as well? Two birds with one stone.

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