The clouds are grey, signaling that a storm is about to come by. Meanwhile, in a room inside the homestead, a young man, Connor is his name, sit on a chair besides a bed where Achilles, his mentor currently laying on.
"…When you first came to me, you understood what had to be done. Swore you see it through" Achilles said to Connor with a raspy voice as thunder goes by "if not for the brotherhood, for your people – and all those threatened by the Templars." He continues.
Before Connor met his father he might have think the same, but things change he thought. The more time he spent with his father the more he thinks that maybe, just maybe, that the Templars and the Assassins can unite. That two parties can just shake hands, forget the bloodshed between them and work together, forge a better future. "But with Lee gone, my father might-"
"Listen to me" Achilles, interrupt him "you have not come this far to throw it all away over misplaced sentiment. Both men must die"
"A-Achilles…" Connor stammered, but Achilles held out his hand to show that this conversation is over.
With mixed emotions, Connor stands up and went to the door.
"wait…" Achilles said suddenly, stopping him on his tracks "I am old, Connor. I don't know how much time I have left…" Achilles stopped and let out a cough "before I leave, I wanted to say that I am grateful to have met you." A little smile escaped his lips "You have given an old man hope that all is not lost, and for that I thank you."
Connor didn't know what to say. He stood there near the doorframe, mouth agape.
"I'll make you proud, old man." Connor said, not caring that his voice was quavering.
"Oh, Connor..." Achilles sighed "You already have."