His limbs felt heavy and tired, and Altaïr wanted little more than to curl up there and sleep. However, his pride would not let him, and neither would her words which seemed a challenge to him. It was not within his personality to take any challenge to his abilities lightly and her words earned her a long look from him before he took another sip from the bowl.

The broth felt warm and revitalizing, and Altaïr gathered enough strength to stand up and set the bowl aside. He shrugged off the blanket and began stretching his back, shoulders and fingers. "I am better with the blade," he admitted, not being humble but rather stating a fact.