All language subtitles for The.Assassins.S01E14.1080p.YANGO.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-POWER

The brothers' thirst for power,

made Al-Sabbah
becomes more brutal.

It's no longer time for hiding
and calling for dawah in secret.

And dives into the
streets of Isfahan.

It's a golden opportunity, when
Malik-Shah's sons are at odds

an opportunity that would allow
people to serve the powerful giant

that has emerged in Isfahan.

They even began to
openly roam the streets.

Fear filled the hearts
from Al-Sabbah.

Everyone who opposes our dawah
must be killed in the most horrific ways.

For the sake of the soul
and greatness of Malik-Shah.

I extend my hand in peace.

However, the reconciliation occurs
among the sons of Malik-Shah.

Long live Sultan Berkyaruq.

Long live Sultan Berkyaruq.

So that Berkyaruq can be
the Sultan the Seljuk state.

Berkyaruq is strong. Fierce.

800 individuals
did this in Isfahan!

Oh, my lord, people are afraid.

He lacked the
wisdom of Malik-Shah,

and didn't have a minister
as cunning as Nizam Al-Mulk.

- Gather the elders of Isfahan to me.
- As you command, my lord.

He chose to assert
control over sultanate.

And so he did.

Berkyaruq,

performed the grandest massacre
on Hassan Al-Sabbah's followers.

A massacre that will
cause chaos in Alamut.

Berkyaruq,

killed 800 from the Esoterics

in one night.

EPISODE 14: ASCETIC IN JERUSALEM

It's a sad day in the
history of our dawah.

Mourning at the
castle for three days.

I want the children of
the 800 who were killed

to be here in the
castle by any means.

And to give them food,
beverage, clothing and weapon.

A mourning ceremony should be
conducted immediately upon their arrival.

A mourning ceremony
they will never forget.

And every week after
they finish their training...

they should sit and the story
should be retold in front of them again,

that the disbelievers and
wicked people of Isfahan

killed 800 of the
noblest people on earth.

I want the spirit of vengeance to
forever haunt the memories of every child

of the martyrs' offspring.

Long live

the Sultan

- Berkyaruq!
- The best news.

We are one army again.

I've had lost hope.

But I never lost hope.

Every passing minute, I
feel like everything will return.

Every person I lost, I
will see again one day...

my father and my mother.

Nourhan.

Your father and mother
are in heaven, Yahya.

Only the lord knows
Nourhan's fate.

I see her face every night

it's as if my dreams are
mortgaged just to meet her.

To the point where I rush my
sleep just to see her in my dream...

as if there is an appointment
between us in my dreams.

This is torture, Yahya.

It’s better if you forget her.

Who can forget his
own soul, Suleiman?

Eat up, everyone. Eat.

Omar Khayyam!

Aren't you going to tell
me anything new today?

Actually, I was planning on
excusing myself from the court

so, I could finish constructing
the observatory you requested.

Later, later.

The observatory can wait.

Tell me something amusing.

- A poem?
- No.

I don't want poetry.

Poetry requires relaxation

and focus on visual imagery
and verbal suggestions.

I want a story

a joke

a pun.

A pun?

Or an extraordinary tale.

I will tell you a funny tale.

- There were three friends.
- Yeah.

They pledged that whoever
reaches a position or influence

will help the other two.

One of them attained power

he gathered the other two and
gave each of them a position.

All three of them
reached a good position.

One of them betrayed
his benefactor and fled

and the other kept trying to
get even with him but couldn’t.

Why?

Because the one
who fled was crazier

he managed to kill his friend
before his friend could kill him

because life always
favors the mad.

What about the third one?

The third one...

...the third one
couldn’t bear being the

friend of both the
killer and the victim.

So he fled

to a foreign country to
work as a clown and jester.

A clown, a clown.

A clown and a jester.

My Lord.

- Have you chosen someone suitable?
- Mansour.

Excellent.

The target this time is
dangerous and different.

Who do you think is currently
our biggest threat, Zaid?

A lot.

The Sultan and his brothers,

the Abbasids and the Crusaders

even the Fatimid,
followers of Al-Musta'li.

Our enemies are
plenty, praise be to God.

These are all
traditional enemies.

The most dangerous enemy
is the enemy of your thought

the enemy of your approach

the enemy of the true
meaning of your existence.

Abu Hamid al-Ghazali.

But he has left Isfahan

- and quit teaching in Nezamiyeh schools.
- I know.

He is now in Jerusalem
seeking the truth.

- I know.
- Okay.

- So his influence is less.
- On the contrary.

Abu Hamid al-Ghazali is my most
dangerous enemy on earth right now.

Because he has both
knowledge and proof

and he's not too old.

His escape from Isfahan and
his asceticism of everything

means he will
become the big idea

that could threaten the existence
and dawah of Hassan Al-Sabbah.

The chosen one shall
enjoy and bestow my vision,

to kill Abu Hamid al-Ghazali

before he completes his thought.

I love you! I love you!

I love you!

There's still the best to come.

Our master.

The dream of Heaven is
much less than Heaven itself

Al-Aqsa Mosque

You'll go there and find a man
dressed in simple clothes, hiding

his name is Abu
Hamid al-Ghazali.

Go there pretending
to be a Sufi worshiper.

The moment he turns
to you and pays attention

your dagger should
be in his chest.

You will be killed

as your soul leaves your body.

You will find me waiting for
you at the gates of Heaven.

What's the price of a piece of
bread and water for a passerby?

The price is what
you can afford.

Where are you heading?

To Jerusalem.

Oh, you have a
long journey ahead

you seem to have come from
the path of the mountain sheikh.

Who's this mountain sheikh?

Does anyone not know the
mountain sheikh, Hassan Al-Sabbah?

Yeah, I've heard about him.

I too have heard,
but never seen him.

I deal with lady Alinar.

Is Alinar his wife?

Alinar was a slave-girl of the
greatest rulers of the Levant

he bought and liberated her.

she's now in charge of
his palace's slave-girls

every now and then, slave-traders
come and sell them slave-girls

and I am the mediator.

I make some money out of it, he's a
generous man, Hassan Al-Sabbah.

I heard he's an ascetic.

There is no man who
doesn't love women.

But certainly, Hassan
has a secret and I'll find out.

I found this pigeon

on our rooftop.

And this message was on its leg.

"In the name of Allah, the
Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

"From the palace and
prison of Al-Sabbah"

"to my friend and
lifelong companion."

"Omar Khayyam."

"We learned of your
departure from Isfahan to Merv"

"this is a different
time, Omar."

"There is no suitable place
for you except Alamut Castle."

"Come to us, you will
find safety and comfort"

"here no one can threaten you."

"I know you love
freedom like birds"

"but the friend
misses his friend."

"I am here a king in my prison"

"nothing would amuse me but having
a conversation with the free, mad poet."

"Think about it, it displeases
me that my crazy friend"

"to be a prisoner in a Sultan's
court just to make him laugh."

"Come to us."

"I possess the
world of our dreams."

I only lack your company
and your opinion."

What's the end of
your journey, Omar?

Jester?

Or dead person?

Or lonely?

The important thing now is
What will we do with the pigeon?

The pigeon should be grilled
and the message should be burned.

Omar Khayyam should
think about the trap of life

in which his parent
implicated him into.

Open the door!

Hussein.

I missed you. I
missed you my love.

You too, my mom.

- Thank God.
- How are you, Hady?

I missed you.

Have you seen Khadija?

- Is this Khadija?
- Yes.

- How are you?
- Thank God.

I'm happy that you could come
and pass all the dangers alone

from your castle
to Alamut castle.

I had to see my
mom and my siblings.

Your mother, your
siblings and your father.

You look older, father,
in these few past years.

You've grown up too.

And it's time for
you to be a hero.

Hassan.

My son will neither be
a chosen nor a guerrilla.

Is it possible?

The son of the preacher, the
grand imam, Hassan Al-Sabbah,

won't be a role model?

Will he get the honor to be part
of those chosen and promised?

If that's the case, he should
go back where he belongs.

I've seen you and I have ensured
your safety, my dear. Come back.

It's me who decides if
he should return or not.

I think the years I
spent away from you

allowed me to become a
man and make decisions.

I will actually
return to my fortress

but not because I am afraid of
being a chosen one or a guerrilla.

On the contrary,

I am a preacher,
imam, and a sign.

Like you.

It is my role to
choose the people.

Of course, until the
appointed time comes and

I am ready to take
the place of our Lord,

Imam Hassan Al-Sabbah.

The one who holds
the key to heaven.

My inheritance
is inspired by God

And I will decide who's gonna take Hassan
Al-Sabbah's place when God tells me so.

Relax and enjoy your time
with your mother and siblings.

And tell when you plan to leave
so I can ensure your safe return.

Don't worry, father,

I know how to
take care of myself

just as I came, I will return.

Thank God for your
safe return, my dear.

Why don't you go to
the Castle of Death?

For your information,

it is the safest
place for you now.

Why is it the safest
place for me, Suhban?

In this time we live in,

safety is not found with a
caliph, sultan, or minister.

Safety is with those who
kill and are well fortified.

And your friend
is no easy target,

no one is capable of
destroying his castle.

Take my advice,

protection from a robber

is better than protection
from a mad sultan.

Bathroom attendant is tired
of the sultan's ridiculous job

and wants to escape.

But the poet finds
no courage or wings.

I bet a single day of hard work

beats a hundred
days in this house.

Why don't you have a
girlfriend, wife, or concubine?

I used to.

The heart beats three times, but

they are meaningful ones.

And the rest are echoes.

What are the three
meaningful ones, Suhban?

The day we are born.

The day we fall in love,

And the day we die.

And this is the last one.

You are right.

Birth,

love, and death.

Just so you know

I wasn't always only
a bathroom attendant.

- I was a king in Isfahan.
- A king?

Tell me more.

Tell me the story of the
bathroom attendant king.

I had a day in the week,

where I lived like a king.

The rest of the week,
I ate less, drank less,

and saved.

Then, on Thursday,

I would get food and drink
with all the money I had.

And I would eat, get
drunk, dance, and sing

until I fell asleep.

Beautiful, O' Sahban.

You managed to
steal a day from time.

You stole what stole all of us.

One night,

I went out to get
food and drinks.

- I found her.
- A jinn?

No.

A slave girl.

Dinar.

Her face was as
bright as the full moon,

and her body was fire.

And you bought her?

With all that I had.

And I left.

- And there was neither food nor drink.
- Doesn't matter.

I thought, just a week,
and I'll be a king again.

But beauty does
not wait for anyone.

Fortune turned against me.

The bathroom was
as if abandoned,

and she endured.

She endured one day...

and the next.

On the third, she said,
Free me for the sake of God,

sell me for any price,

I don't want a bathroom
attendant who wants to be a king.

I want a man,

to cherish his days with me.

You sold her?

And sold my heart
along with her.

My Lord, the
Sultan calls for you.

We have become slaves too.

And I wish we knew
how to free ourselves.

I have a silly insomnia,

that doesn't let me sleep.

I called my minister and asked
him to tell me exciting news

or a thrilling story
to help me sleep.

He told me the hottest
news in the kingdom right now

is the anger of the scholars

at Omar Khayyam.

I said, What?

Omar Khayyam?

My guest and friend,

And source of inspiration?

He said Yes.

I asked him, What's
the accusation?

He replied,

they are saying that you

are an atheist,

a heretic,

and a drunkard.

I'm not drunk here in front of our lord,
and I've never said I was an atheist.

You all argue every
day for a month

and the one who beats the other

will be the winner.

And I will issue my orders

to kill the loser.

It's too long a time, my lord.

Too long for whom?

For the world.

For an existence that loses a month
just to know the intent of Omar Khayyam.

Alright, let's make it a week.

And may my lord
allow me just one day.

So I can prepare
myself for the discussion

and finish building
the observatory.

What? A day?

And what am I
supposed to do that day?

Who would make me laugh?

- Who will entertain me?
- Just a day, my lord.

A day.

You will find plenty of
things to entertain you.

Alright

Take your day, Omar Khayyam.

My sons, oh Hassan.

- What about them?
- They have nothing to do with your plans!

If God wills it, they
are to be my sons

should I defy God's plan?

So, let them learn horsemanship,
leadership, and wisdom.

But to die and be killed, no.

Do you accept that the
faithful say in the fortress that,

that Hassan Al-Sabbah sacrificed
his sons for the honor of martyrdom,

Hassan Al-Sabbah
sent the youth to their

deaths while keeping
his sons by his side,

you are killing the idea itself.

They have another
role, just like yours.

How are they going to rule
after you if they're killed?

Why?

If I have to perform a mission,
do you think I wouldn't?

Meaning, if it's necessary, I
would descend from the castle

I will kill and be killed.

Of course, I would do that.

Who will bring you to
heaven if you're killed?

Aren't you the key-bearer?

Who will lead you to it?

Is it right for Hassan
Al-Sabbah's wife to mock him?

It's not a mockery.

You are the son of
your dream, as you wish.

And I will be the
first to tell the faithful,

that I believe in the message of our
lord, the bearer of the key to the heavens

I am ready to
kill and be killed.

And I'll await for you to take
me up to heaven with your hands.

But my sons, Hassan,

No.

You do not believe.

You will believe as long
as you don't kill my sons.

Don't let your dream kill mine.

Or is the dream of paradise,
O holder of the key...

only for men or what?

No, of course not.

There's also a dream
of hell, oh Donia Zad...

for the believer and the
believer who doubts their faith.

I feel our master is
not in a better state.

Our master doesn't have a state.

I understand.

But we are in a
fortified castle...

Our victories have reached
the boundaries of legends...

the whole world is calculating
every move for the castle of death...

how could he not be happy!

There's no happiness
for an ambitious man.

Yes, but to where?
Ambitious to where?

- Do you not believe who is our master?
- God forbid.

I know he's the
modest and pious...

the argumentative preacher...

the key holder of paradise,
receiving directly from the Imam.

And more...

Because every day
his ambition grows.

What he has is not ambition...

it's something divine.

- Divine!
- So what?

Do you doubt our master?

No, of course not.

Our master is definitely
different from the rest of us...

an extraordinary
individual indeed.

But whether it's
divine or not...

I can't be sure.

Between him and
heaven is an open door...

but still it's strange...

sometimes he speaks out,

acts and doings...

Contrary to the
usual and the religion?

...Yes.

And this increases
my confusion...

and the strange thing is...

it increased my veneration
and reverence for him.

You're lucky with
your faith, Barzak.

- And you?
- I am Zaid Ibn Sihon.

Once in sanity...

and once in madness.

Once in sanity,
once in madness...

once in sanity,
once in madness...

Come, Barzak.

I was just thinking
of the Castle of death.

- What about it, my master?
- Elevated much above the ground...

reminds me of the prophets who
were raised to the high heavens.

Yes, my master,
like Enoch and Christ.

So, here there is no death...

and if it happened...

then Hassan Al-Sabbah too...
was elevated to the high heavens.

What concerns you?

I didn't want to tell
you news like this.

But

Zaid Ibn Sihon.

Spends a lot of time in his room

unfortunately, he's taken a
large portion of the Paradise plant

and uses it excessively.

Poor Ibn Sihon.

Barzak and two clerics we trust

are discussing and making
their judgement in my presence.

Could we just get
through this week?

You thought it was just a week?

Man's mood can change,
and your neck goes flying.

Where are we going now?

That's a great question,
Bathroom attendant.

So where's the answer now?

Zaid, you dealt with
the Paradise plant.

Yes.

Knowing it's prohibited

except for specific purposes

which is the chosen ones
entering the Paradise dream.

I know.

What's the clerics' judgment?

After close examination
and consultation

and reviewing the evidence.

It is confirmed as a drug that
suppresses ambition, therefore

it has the same
effects as alcohol

intoxication and
loss of conscious.

Therefore, we believe that
flogging is the punishment

based on the punishment
for drinking alcohol.

The decision goes to our
master, Imam Hassan Al-Sabbah.

If he wants, he can punish.

Or if he wants, he can forgive.

We do not have any
form of comparison.

We judge based on
what's constituted upon us

And because Zaid Ibn Sihon is
a close friend, an ally, a support.

I pronounce on him 200 lashes.

Without mercy.

Hopefully, the lashes will
bring back the light to his heart

which was there because
of his obedience to us.

It's in your hands, Barzak.

Flog our beloved Zaid
ibn Sihon without mercy.

The same wounds that I showed you From
the torment of the oppressors long ago.

Zaid ibn Sihon

a long journey.

That started when
you were a hunchback

hiding Running from
the oppressive infidels

and it's still continuing.

I'm asking you,

in this moment,

do you hate Hassan Al-Sabbah?

Be careful.

Because when I upset you, your
heart should maintain the same love,

that made you happy.

Sometimes proximity
comes through trials, Zaid.

I might have tested
you to test your love.

Could it be Zaid's heart

сloser to me than
Barzak Amide's hand.

The more your love for me
increases, despite all trials

the closer you are.

And you still get closer to me

until you become me.

So when the Hassan
Al-Sabbah disappears

or it elevates far from the earthly world

You are Hassan Al-Sabbah, oh Zaid.