AN: Here goes nothing. An attempt by me to write something more ambitious than a semicanon oneshot. This is an AU where Haytham adopts Ratonhnhaké:ton after the fire. Not exactly original, but I hope you'll enjoy this anyways

I'll be writing and updating in arcs made of 2-3 short chapters each. Chapters in the same arc should be posted fairly close together, but I can't guarantee the wait times between arcs since University and life and the usual. The reason I'm doing this is to break down my usually long chapters into smaller readable chunks without writing any less content than I normally would. Treat each whole arc as the real chapter if you want.

I currently have ideas for about 3 arcs spanning the time between 1760 and 1769, but beyond that I'm still blank. If you have any ideas you don't mind sharing, I'd love to hear them!

Acknowledgements:

Heart of Paper, for convincing me (very insistently) to write this story, as well as giving excellent input with some great ideas

Demons Hiding, for being an awesome Beta and smashing me over the head with "TENSES!" whenever I slip into my bad habit of switching between past and present tense constantly. I'm still working on that!

And everyone who's reviewed/favourited my recent works. Knowing that there's people who like my work really helps me keep writing with confidence, so thank you all!

Prologue

The Green Dragon, 1760

The tavern was lively, slowly filling with patrons as the day came to an end and all manner of travellers came for food and drink. It was loud and rowdy, but it was a friendly kind of loud and rowdy. However, the jovial atmosphere seemed to simply stop at the staircase, where a large and rather intimidating man sat on the steps, discouraging anyone from going upstairs. On the second level, there were only six men around a table in private conversation.

"Explain yourselves."

There was no warmth in Haytham's voice as he pulled a note from his jacket and tossed it on the table. He glared at his fellow Templars sitting across from him in turn. There was a moment of shock, as they realized what that little piece of paper meant. The fact that they were shocked meant that Haytham wasn't supposed to know. He had been right. They had been trying to keep this secret.

William seemed anxious, almost apologetic, while Charles simply refused to meet his eye. Pitcairn, Church, and Hickey all stared defiantly back at the Grand Master. Haytham could see his own failure in their reactions to his displeasure. His three year absence from North America had let his authority slip, and he had been able to do little in the last two years to remind these people why they ought to give him their respect. The injuries he had sustained from his little adventure in Europe had prevented him from doing much of what was needed to be done.

But they had taken it too far.

"I have told you to drop the matter of the First Civilization," he continued when none of the cowards would answer.

It wasn't that they had disobeyed his orders. He had simply pushed the First Civilization Site down his list of priorities, and he would not have objected to investigating any leads. The problem was that they had tried to keep it secret from him. There had to be a reason why. He needed to know what that reason was, and he needed to remind these people who was in charge.

"Master Kenway, please," Charles spoke, forcing himself to meet Haytham's eye. Charles had always been the most loyal to him, Haytham knew, and he saw that the man was conflicted. "We didn't want to trouble you. It seemed a small thing. We simply decided to see if we could convince the Indians to impart us with more information."

"With all due respect sir, I do not think you investigated the matter fully five years ago," Johnson piped in. "The woman showed you the room; surely the Kanien'kehá:ka would know more, things that she did not. We were hoping to find the Clan Mother. You yourself have said that whatever was in the Precursor Site is vastly important to our cause."

There was an attack on Haytham in Johnson's words. He had been playing this game too long to miss it. Johnson was accusing him of having been sloppy, of being too distracted with a native woman.

"I assure you; I looked into the matter as fully as possible. There is nothing more her people can tell us. Leave them be." Haytham pressed firmly. He saw a flash of guilt cross Johnson's face, though the others stayed passive. Something about that alarmed him, but he couldn't understand what.

"We're sorry for doubting you, sir. We just wanted to make sure." Pitcairn finally spoke up. The general was one who knew this game better than anyone else here, other than Haytham himself. He had offered an apology that pointed out the weakness of Haytham's argument, that they couldn't be faulted for being thorough. Not with something so important.

Haytham wasn't paying attention to that though, his thoughts still on Johnson. Had he maybe imagined that expression? None of the others had reacted. Reacted to what? "Leave them be". Oh bloody hell.

"What did you do to them?" Out of those assembled here, Johnson was the only one who loved and respected the native people. He had been pushing for the Templars to buy the land for years, so that they could offer the natives protection from the Europeans who were ever expanding into their territory. That look of guilt on Johnson's face that did not appear on any of the others'…something must have happened to the people.

"We didn't do nuthin' to nobody." Hickey spoke for the first time. Though he had been sourly and had spent the conversation so far glaring at Haytham, the grand Master knew that his defiance had less to do with the politics of the Templars, and more with the fact Haytham had forbidden anyone from disturbing their meeting- including whoever's serving the drinks. Hickey was a sharp, but simple, man.

"Thomas." Church hissed a warning, but Hickey simply grinned and pressed forward. He had always made it clear that he never cared about the petty squabblings of the Order's hierarchy, as long as he was paid.

"Guess the army has been getting tired of all them savages fightin' on the Frenchies' side. They burn'd the whole place down."

There was a strained silence as the news hit Haytham.

"Which village was this-" In his heart, he already knew. "-and what did you have to do with the attack?"

"That one a few miles North of Concord. And we ain't have nuthin' to do with the attack. Even managed to save a brat." Hickey replied with a grin.

"When we learned about the attack, we realized it might be our last chance to ask about the Precursor Site from the natives living in the valley. We didn't tell you because we thought you'd be too…emotionally involved. I'm afraid we did not make it to the village before the soldiers." Charles explained.

"And you did nothing to stop a massacre of innocents."

Everyone present knew that the village in the valley was neutral in the war. Ziio had been the only one from her tribe who had fought against the British. They had allowed the British army to burn down a village that had nothing to do with the fight.

The Templars glanced at each other.

"We…did not have much time. We barely made it to the valley in time." Pitcairn explained. It was just an excuse. The thought had likely not even crossed their minds, except maybe Johnson's. But more than just an excuse, Pitcairn's voice held an accusation. That Haytham was allowing sentiment to get the better of him.

They just don't get it. But there was little more that could still be said. None of them had openly acted wrong or against the Order. It was his own fault that they couldn't trust him. He's going to have to work on that, it seems.

But right now, there was a more pressing concern on his mind.

"Thank you gentlemen, for clearing that up. In the future though, please do inform me of something as important as a search for the precursor sight." He told them pleasantly as he stood up, but he kept his hands on the table, so that he was leaning forward over it. Then his voice dropped to a more dangerous tone. "I do not appreciate things being hidden behind my back. I am the Grand Master. Don't you ever dare forget that."

A few nods around the table, and he could see that some of them were reconsidering their defiance. Perhaps remembering that this man before them had built the Order around them from almost nothing. Haytham was not a man to be crossed lightly.

As Haytham turned towards the staircase to leave, someone put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Haytham turned to see that it was Charles. The man had a look of concern on his face.

"Where are you going? It's late."

"I'm going to get supplies."

"Supplies?"

"I'm riding tomorrow morning. I have to see for myself."

I have to know that Ziio is safe.