the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

force in the rebuilding of the Order, essential for providing the
foundations to stop the rot at Masyaf. Under Abbas’s corrupt reign they
had had none of the skills or training of old: the Brotherhood had been
Assassin in name only. Altaïr’s first task was to restore the discipline that
had been lost: once again the training yard echoed with the ring of steel
and the shouts and curses of the instructors. No Mongol would have
dared a skirmish then.
But just as the Brotherhood had been restored in name and
reputation, Altaïr decided that the base at Masyaf should no longer exist
and removed the Assassin crest from the flagpole. His vision for the
Order was that the Assassins should go out into the world, he said. They
should operate among the people, not above them. Altaïr’s son Darim
arrived home in Masyaf to find just a few Assassins left, most of whom
were occupied in the construction of the Master’s library. When it was
complete, Darim was dispatched to Constantinople to locate my brother
and me.
Which brings us to our entrance into the story, some eighty years
after it began.
‘But it is not over yet, I feel,’ Maffeo said. He stood waiting for me.
We were due to see the Master in the main courtyard. For what was
surely the last time, we wound our way through the fortress to the
courtyard, led by Altaïr’s faithful steward, Mukhlis.
As we arrived I thought, What sights it has seen, this courtyard. Here
was where Altaïr first saw Abbas, standing in the dead of night, pining
for his stricken father. Here was where the two had fought and become
enemies; where Altaïr had been shamed in front of the Order by Al
Mualim; where Maria had died, Abbas, too.