"I would wear two of these, and the sword of my ancestor at my hip." Ezio sighed. "He was a man named Altaïr; one of the original Assassins of our ... world." Caught up in a flight of fancy, it was almost as if he had forgotten where he was until that strange truth had tripped from his tongue.
He set the blade down abruptly and instead reached for a microscopic switchblade. It clearly was not enough for him; any fool could tell that.