The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 94 Eagle's Nest

At dawn, Almolin arrived at the foot of the mountain where Masyard Castle is located.

Masyard Castle stands atop one of the most precipitous mountains in the Levant. Unlike the Assassin strongholds hidden in cities or oases in Egypt or Jerusalem, Masyard Castle seems to assert its existence with an air of superiority rather than blending into its environment.

In the morning light, the fortress appeared as a black silhouette, with only a narrow, winding path leading to the summit.

The path is only wide enough for one person to pass at a time, with a bottomless abyss on one side and a smooth, mirror-like rock wall on the other. At intervals, there are suspension bridges and giant stone gates that can only be opened with specific Assassins' passwords.

With each checkpoint Almorin passed, he could feel the cold, scrutinizing gazes of the Assassin guards.

These guards were not ordinary Assassins, but "Mutafirin," meaning "chosen ones," directly under the highest authority of the Assassins in Syria. They wore pure black robes, their eyes were empty, as if stripped of their personal will, and only the fanatical light flashing in their eyes showed that they were alive.

They showed no respect for Almorin’s status as an Egyptian mentor, but instead quickly stepped forward to question and interrogate him, mechanically searching his entire body, leaving no stone unturned, even the linings of his collar and cuffs and the seams of his boots.

Almorin spread his arms wide, letting himself be manipulated. His former ruthlessness and arrogance vanished here, leaving only absolute obedience.

Masyad Fortress, as the Assassins' headquarters in Syria, was heavily religious, with religious elements taking precedence far above creed. The Egyptian outposts, located further from Masyad Fortress, were more inclusive, even allowing the recruitment of Christians as peripheral members.

The niches on both sides of the passageway do not contain icons, but rather neatly arranged skulls of Assassin teachers who "sacrificed" themselves for the doctrine throughout history. Each skull has nijari script engraved on its crown, and glowing fluorite is placed in its eye sockets, as if still gazing upon those who have passed.

The Assassins here are like devout believers, burning incense along the passageway and standing by the castle walls, whispering prayers to the Nizari scriptures and star charts carved on the walls.

A group of young Fidai (suicide squad) knelt before an elder, performing their daily "heavenly revelations." The elder held a silver bowl filled with a dark green liquid, and each Fidai drank a sip.

Soon, the young people's eyes began to glaze over, their faces showing extreme ecstasy, their bodies trembling slightly, as if their souls had left their bodies and were roaming in the water paradise promised by the elders, a paradise filled with honeyed rivers and virgins.

Fida, who had just returned from a mission but was on the verge of death from his injuries, was carried by his comrades to a stone wall covered with scriptures.

He felt no fear; instead, with his last breath, he struggled to kiss the name "Rashid al-Din Sinan" inscribed on the stone wall, murmuring, "...Seventy-two...virgins...wait for me..."

Even as he breathed his last, a wistful smile remained frozen on his contorted face, while the Assassins around him looked at his corpse with envy and longing.

Almorin continued forward, and at the end of the passageway, he darted into the weeds on his right at an open space, entering a narrow path hidden by weeds, and walked deeper and deeper into it.

After walking for a while, he stopped. Almost simultaneously, the torches on the walls of the secret passage suddenly burst into flames, illuminating the scene ahead clearly.

An iron gate blocked the way, and an old man wrapped in a gray linen cloak sat in front of the gate, the shadow under the hood staring intently at Almorin.

"A lost shadow, how can you prove your identity?" The old man in the gray robe spoke as if dried parchment was rubbing against each other.

Almorin placed his right fist on his chest and chanted in Old Persian:

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted. Appearances are as fragile as an eggshell, but truth lies in the yolk."

The elder remained unmoved and continued to ask, "Recite the 'Seven Imams' Chapter 3, verses 5-7, concerning the holiness of the number seven."

Almolin lowered his gaze and recited fluently:

"The seven heavens correspond to the seven Imams, and the seventh is the gate of seclusion. Prayer must be performed seven times a day, Ramadan is held in the seventh month, and one must prostrate oneself every seven steps when approaching the Holy Land. Our path is like a seven-stringed lyre, none of which can be missing. Only when all seven strings resonate can the sound of truth be played."

When reciting, his fingers hung down under his robe, his thumb and middle finger interlocked, and the other three fingers were joined together and pointed upwards, forming the corresponding Ismaili mudra.

The old man in the gray robe closed his eyes and remained silent, and the stone door suddenly opened with a bang.

Inside the door was an absolutely dark stone chamber. A veiled woman approached slowly, carrying an oil lamp with only one wick. She suddenly held the lamp up to Almorin's eyes, the bright light piercing his pupils.

The strong light from the oil lamp pierced Almolin's eyes, but he kept his eyes wide open, staring straight at the wick.

The woman spoke, "If the Imam of the saints, the Sheikh of the Assassins, the holy Sayyid—Rashid al-Din Sinan—commands you to kill your own family as a testament to your loyalty, what will you do?"

Without hesitation, Almorin replied, "The sword of God needs no thought about its path; it only strikes the designated target."

"If the mission fails, how will you atone for your sins?"

He knelt on one knee: "Wash the blade with blood, discard bones and cut flesh."

"Which passage of the Quran should we follow in our actions?"

"The attacked have been granted permission to resist. We are the oppressed, and our daggers are God's permission to resist."

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted. Do you know where the boundary lies between 'nothing' and 'permitted'?"

Almorin replied devoutly, "The boundary lies in the hearts of the Imam of the saints, the Sheikh of the Assassins, and the holy Sayyid; it is not something we can concern ourselves with."

The woman left with the oil lamp, and the stone chamber fell silent and dark again. Soon, another voice rang out.

Why have you returned?

Almorin, already adept at answering questions, replied, "Bethsheen's operation failed, and I escaped through the drainage channel. To eliminate body odor, I smeared myself with a mixture of wormwood and mint mud, disguising myself as a dead body, and lay in the mass grave for three days until the Frankish hounds dispersed."

"On my way north, I boarded a five-man Frankish caravan bound for Antioch. When we reached the border, I poisoned their drinking water and put them into a deep sleep. Then I used a specially made hidden blade to treat them one by one, leaving wounds as small as mosquito bites. Afterward, I sank the bodies into the quicksand salt marshes, burned the goods, and scattered the ashes into the deep valley, ensuring that no trace was left behind."

After a long silence, the voice said softly, "The organization acknowledges your caution."

Immediately, a scent that Almorin was extremely familiar with filled the air. Instead of resisting it, he inhaled the scent more deeply, his head gradually becoming dizzy, and he finally collapsed.

This is a necessary "purification" before having an audience with that being.