Claudia,

Constantinopoli – called Istanbul by the Turks – has welcomed me as one of its own. The Assassins here, led by an affable fighter named Yusuf, take great pride in their city, a place as diverse and colorful as one could imagine.

But it is a troubled city too. A rebellious faction of Byzantine Templars still fights to retain influence, and their recent attacks have delayed my search for the Masyaf Keys. But this will not last. As soon as I am able, I will begin looking for Niccolò Polo’s former trading post, in search of clues that will bring me nearer to the Masyaf keys.

Ezio: Yusuf thought highly of you, Assassin. And I find no reason to second guess this judgment. Do you have it in your heart to lead these men and women, to maintain the dignity of our order, as Yusuf did with such passion?

Dogan: It would be an honor.

I heard your name once before, Desmond, a long time ago. And now it lingers in my mind like an image from an old dream. I do not know where you are, or by what means you can hear me. But I know you are listening.

I have lived my life as best I could, not knowing its purpose, but drawn forward like a moth to a distant moon. And here, at last, I discover a strange truth. That I am only a conduit for a message that eludes my understanding. Who are we, who have been so blessed to share our stories like this? To speak across centuries? Maybe you will answer all the questions I have asked. Maybe you will be the one to make all this suffering worth something in the end.