Alright peeps, I am going to give you a heads up now. For the next few weeks, I am having a lot of work done on my teeth. I had three pulled on Tuesday, and I am on pain killers right now, so if you find any mistakes, let me know. I am not quite up to speed, but when I get an idea, I have to get it out of my head. So, here is part two of Unconventional Alliance, entitled Days of Future's Past.

"And so, that is why we fight." Altair looked over at Ratonhnhake:ton. He had been in Masyaf now for a few days and they had taken that time to catch up on what they had missed in each others' lives. The Mohawk was impressed at the vast size of the fortress and stared like a wide-eyed child at the shear number of trained assassins that graced her walls.

He had nothing of the sort back home. It was him, and a handful of people he had recruited out of necessity, but they had grown to be his family and friends. Altair asked about the homestead and the people that he had come to think of as friends. Everyone had asked about him, and where he had gone off to, but Connor could not bear to tell them the whole truth, and so simply he told them that Altair was called home one night. It was the truth, to a point, plain and simple.

The warm breeze brushed his hair away from his face as he looked at his friend. "I see." He answered with a slight nod. There was so much about Altair's time he wished to know. To learn what made them so formidable and what had happened between now, and his time, to cause the decline of the assassins to terribly that all that remained was a ideal and a handful of people that were raised to believe it. "If it was this way in my time, I believe the Templars would not have been as bold as they were."

Altair shook his head. "We have become complacent in who we are now. The fortress here is a terrible testament of our arrogance. We must change in order to be better. To be more than what we have been."

"But you have seen what change had rot." Connor challenged. The change would ultimately cause the decline of the assassin order until there was nothing left.

"But if we do not change, then the same will still come to pass. Time will correct everything we have done wrong. No matter if it was I that made the mistake, or if it is to be you. We all ride in the currents of time, and there is not a way that I have found to deviate from that intended path." The Syrian looked to his friend. "We were all born to be what we were born to be, but that does not mean we are to be puppets to that fate."

Ratonhnhake:ton would have to disagree there. Everything that had been done by his hands had been orchestrated by the unseen forces of the spirits that had watched over his people. "How can you believe that when you yourself were taken from your family and friends for little over a year to aid me on my journey, then sent home with no time passing? That, my friend, is being used as a puppet."

And that got a slight chuckle from the ancient assassin. "That is a most valid point. So it would seem that you have learned a thing or two about fate."

Cracking a smile, Ratonhnhake:ton looked onto his friend. "I have learned from one of the best."

Both men laughed. It was good to be in the presence of his friend once more, but he did not know how long it would last. The spirit, Juno, did not tell him when he would be sent home, nor of he even would, but his time was in capable hands. His assassins, and surprisingly, his father Haytham, would watch over the colonial states until such time as he was to return. If anything, he would probably be taken back to the point that he had been sent from. Just that thought alone was enough to give him a slight headache, but he brushed it off.


Both men turned to see one of the younger novices jog over to where they sat. Connor saw him groan, but stood as the young man came closer. "Yes novice?" He asked as the boy came to a stop.

"A dove came bearing a message for you just a few moments ago. It bears the seal of Jerusalem." He was slightly winded as he held out the small rolled up message.

Altair took it into his own hands and thanked the boy for bringing it. Once the boy headed back inside, Ratonhnhake:ton watched his friend read the small note. Stepping to his side, he looked at the script, but could not make heads nor tails of the writing on the page. "Something bad?' He asked, raising his eyes to meet that of Altair's.

"Malik. He has things he would like to tell me, but to hear them I must travel to him. If he is withholding things in messages, he must think something ill." A sigh escaped him and his pushed the note into the pouch at his side. "I must ride swiftly to Jerusalem. Would you care to accompany me in this small endeavor?"

Connor weighted his choices. It was either stay in the stone fortress with no one, save for Maria, that could understand a word he spoke, or ride on the animal he loved, see more of this land that he had only heard about from Altair, and see a new city that he had only read about in books Achilles had him read? The choice was clear. "I will ride with you."

"We will depart within the hour. I must speak to a few people. Will you meet me at the stables at the edge of village? There you will find the horses." Altair looked quite troubled,and so he did not question his choice to sent him off alone.

"Of course. I will see you when you are ready. I gather that you will take care of the traveling supplies, or will we gather those once we are underway?" Crossing his arms over his wide chest, he raised a brow to the Syrian.

Altair looked up at him. "Huh?"

"Traveling supplies, Altair. Food, water? You have not forgot the basic equipment one would need so quickly, have you?" This must be bothering him if he was forgetting about supplies. "No worries. I will gather them as I fetch the horses."

"Thank you,my friend. The note is not like Malik at all. Something is not right." He rubbed his forehead as if a headache was encroaching on him. "I must get there as swiftly as time will allow."

"And how long will this journey be? I do not know the distances here." They began to walk into the keep. They turned to the left and up a small flight of stairs as they talked.

"No more than a days ride from here. So long as we are not followed by the Templars who want no more than to pike my head in front of the main gates of this place. If not for I, they would be ruling these lands along side my old master, Al Mualim." He spit out the name like a bad taste.

Connor knew the story behind the man and what he was trying to accomplish with the unknowing aid of Altair. Once the assassin had put the pieces together and knew what the older man had in store for the lands that he called home, he rode back here to confront him, won, and became the Grandmaster upon the remaining assassins regaining their minds. The youngest Grandmaster in history. Still held that title even in his time. No one had ever done what he had done.

"Then take care of what you will need, and I will see to the rest. I guess I can get by on what little you have taught me." Or so he hoped. He was not much of a learner when it came to the complex language that was Altair's native speak.

"Issam." He called for one of the young men that stood guard at the entrance to the gardens that they had just left.

The boy walked over, head high. They conversed for a moment in Arabic, making Connor scratch his head in wonder as to how they could speak so fast and understand one another. Once they were done, the boy bowed once more. Altair looked back at him. "Issam will accompany you to the market. He will translate for you what you will be needing for the shopkeepers. He is about the only one here that knows the English language."

"It is an honor to help out a master such as yourself, Master Kenway." The boy, Issam, bowed to him.

He was not sure what Altair had told his men about him, but he was fairly sure it had not been the truth. If that was the case, he was willing to take a bet that his throat would have been laid open in his sleep and as would have Altair's for witchcraft and the like. He would question the Syrian about it on their trip to the Holy City.

"I thank you, Issam." He bowed as well.

"Now that is settled, you had best be on your way. I will see you within the hour." And he walked away, but not before handing him a small pouch of coin.

Turning to his new assistant, he sighed. "Where do you recommend we go to get supplies?"

"I will take you there straight away, Master Kenway." The boy was eager to please and he could see that plain on his face.

"Connor will do just fine. I do not care for fancy titles and the like, Issam. Best you learn that now." A headache was beginning to form for him,but not for the same reason as the one he knew Altair had.

"As you wish, Connor." Issam tried out his name, and he was glad that he did not try to get him to call him by his Mohawk name. He probably would have been there all day, just as he had done with his father, pronouncing it syllable by syllable. He did not want to go through that again.

"Lead the way."

This is the first chapter of the second part of Unconventional Alliance. Since I got so many people asking for a new one about Altair and Ratonhnhake:ton I thought I would work on it. I am going to warn you now. I will not be able to update until next weekend. I am so swamped week with doctor and dentist appointments that it is not funny. See you then. Oh and PS, I learned something new about Arabic names. I wanted to have authentic names for a few characters so I looked them up. Issam means safeguard, but Haytham is actually Arabic. It means son or eagle. I did not know that. You learns something new everyday.