A/N: I'm really interested in the Revolutionary War and the people involved in it, and I got to thinking about how it would have played out in the AC universe, especially with the intervention of some earlier assassins. I have a rough plan for this story, which hopefully will encompass from the winter of 1777-Yorktown.
Prologue
The paper-swaddled bundle was pressed hastily into Revere's hands. Even through the layers of covering, the Piece of Eden's glow shown through, only dimmed. "Remember, it can't fall into our enemies' hands," Warren reminded him.
Revere scowled. "I am aware of that," he snapped, stowing the strange artifact in his pack. He cast an uneasy glance out the window, as if expecting the redcoats to already be waiting outside. The presence of the Piece of Eden made both of them uneasy. If it fell into the Templar's hands, the results would be disastrous.
"Do the others know?" Revere asked.
Warren shook his head. "They are not part of the Brotherhood. They are simply patriots, protesting the taxes."
"Shortsighted goals," Revere smirked. "What we do has much more worth than squabbles over land and money."
"I wouldn't call them shortsighted," Warren said. "Unaware of the whole picture, perhaps."
"Are the reasons for General Gage's march on Concord true?" the silversmith asked.
Warren hesitated. "According to my intelligence, yes, the redcoats are worried about the weapons that Concord has been collecting. But it also serves the purpose of covering up the fact they are searching for the Piece of Eden."
Revere nodded. "Clever, but no more clever than the average Templar maneuver. It would have been subtler if they didn't insist on bringing whole battalions of their troops."
"Not all of their officers are Templars," Warren said. "But I cannot delay you any further with explanations- you must hurry to on."
Revere nodded. "I will contact you once the artifact is safe.
"The Regulars are coming out!" Revere shouted, spurring his horse faster. Middlesex county was alive with the shouts of the riders- the warnings had been taken up by many others. The redcoats had no hope of silencing them all now. They had run through Lexington at just about midnight, and were now heading towards Concord, hoping to beat the Regulars. Revere was accompanied by two other riders at that moment- Dawes and Prescott. Neither had any idea of his real, much more urgent, mission.
It had been a perfect idea, he had thought. The Templars would never think that the Assassins would send the Piece of Eden with the riders whose sole purpose was to make a commotion. The Assassins were renowned for their skills in stealth and secrecy, and this wasn't their style at all. Which was why he had thought it would have a chance of working.
Now he was reconsidering- perhaps it would have been better to hide the accursed thing away somewhere in Boston. Couriering it anywhere was a recipe for disaster. Just being around the artifact had odd effects on people- and he had heard whispers about people driven mad by touching it. Not everyone was resistant to its powers, and he would rather not find out if he was or not.
"Halt!" Too late, Revere's attention snapped back to the road. Soldiers bearing muskets lined the road, their red uniforms shining in the dim light of several lanterns. Revere and Dawes reigned in their horses. Neither of them was armed for a fight, and though Revere might have been able to beat them, it would be exposing himself as an Assassin. He didn't particularly relish the idea of having to kill the soldiers, or his comrades.
Prescott ignored the soldiers' shouts and spurred his horse forward. The redcoats raised their rifles, but seemed reluctant to use them. This bunch clearly weren't Templars, at least not high ranking ones. They were simple soldiers trying to subdue the civil unrest. In an instant Prescott was over a fence, and away from the lantern's light.
"Don't bother with him," called the redcoat's commander. "He's not who we're looking for."
Dawes and Revere exchanged glances. Dawes looked perplexed- Prescott was just as guilty of warning the countryside of the Regulars' attack as they were. But Revere realized with dreadful certainty that this commander probably hadn't been put out here to stop warnings going to Concord. He looked like the type to be a Templar, too- he didn't look bored like the rest of his patrol.
The man stalked over to Revere. "What is your business disturbing the county at this hour?"
One of the Regulars spoke up. "Sir, they're dissidents-"
"Be quiet," the Templar snapped, stalking over to Revere. Revere knew he knew perfectly well what Dawes and he had been doing. But he didn't care, of course. He was there for something much more important. "Get off your horse."
The silversmith slid from his mount's saddle. The Templar reached for his horse's saddlebags, where the Piece of Eden was hidden. Revere folded his hands behind his back, using the movement to mask the flick of his wrist it took to extend his hidden blade. In a single fluid movement brought it up to the Templar's neck. Before it could make contact with the man's flesh the commander caught his wrist. "You don't want to do that," the Templar smiled humorlessly. "You may be able to retain your life if you don't make things difficult." Revere relented, letting his arm drop back down to his side.
With the way his horse was positioned, the only one who had seen this exchange was Dawes. Revere saw a fleeting look of confusion cross the other rider's face, and then his expression set into determination. Dawes dug his heels into the sides of his horse, urging the mare into a canter. He broke away from the patrol, off in the direction Prescott had gone.
The Regulars scrambled for their muskets. Revere held his breath, fearing for a minute that they would shoot Dawes out of the saddle before he could clear the fence. Muskets were far from accurate, but at that range it wasn't much of a challenge…
"Don't bother," the commander said. "After all, we wouldn't want to shoot a fellow countryman for something so minor."
Revere twisted around, disturbed by the satisfaction in his tone. Distracted by Dawes's departure, he hadn't noticed the Templar rummaging in his saddlebags. He withdrew the bundle before Revere could do anything. The glow of the swaddled Piece of Eden briefly lit up the commander's face, before he shoved it into his own bag.
"Take Mr. Revere here to a holding cell, and keep him there until morning for disturbing the peace," the Templar called to two of his Regulars. "Set him free in the morning- I'm sure the warning will be enough to dissuade him from causing further trouble." He smirked at Revere, as if they were sharing some private joke.
Revere could only allow himself to be led away helplessly. To do any more would violate the tenant of the Creed that told them not to compromise the Brotherhood. His superiors had taken great pains to hide the Assassins and their motivations from the world- he wasn't about to wreck it for some artifact that could easily be nothing more than some shiny rock. After all, he had never actually seen its power demosntrated. The Mentor could be wrong.
Or so he assured himself.
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Altaïr stared into the depths of the Apple, both fascinated and repulsed by the artifact. The power, the knowledge it held… It was terrifying, even to Altaïr, a man who would seldom admit to being afraid of anything. It had twisted the minds of so many men, including his former leader Al Mualim. But if one could look past all of its lies, unlock to power it held without succumbing to its illusions…
"Altaïr," an irritable voice snapped. He didn't look up. "Altaïr. Novice!"
"What is it?" Altaïr finally tore himself from contemplating the Apple. Malik was standing in the doorway of his chamber, glaring at him.
"Rauf and his men have subdued the last of the riots," Malik said. In the days since Al Mualim's death, Masyaf had been in an uproar. It had mostly died down the previous day, leaving only a few pockets of dissidents, and finally allowing the assassins some rest.
"Good," Altaïr stood, stretched the muscles in his cramped legs.
He saw Malik's gaze lingering on him. "What were you doing with the Apple?" he asked harshly.
Altaïr bristled, but forced his tone to remain level. Malik had a right to be suspicious of the object, after all. "Merely considering what use to put it to."
"Destroy it," Malik said flatly. "Assuming it can be destroyed. Using it would make us no better than Al Mualim."
It felt strange to hear the former Grand Master referred to with such irreverence. Altaïr had looked up to him his whole life- looked up to him more than he had looked up to his own father. There were few assassins in the Brotherhood who hadn't respected the Al Mualim, and with a twinge Altaïr realized he had killed one of the few that had. Looking back, it was easy to pick out the times where his true allegiances had had been hinted at, but few people would have harbored the seemingly foolish delusion that the wise leader of the Assassins was a Templar. They had been blind to his deception, completely blind.
"It is dangerous," Altaïr agreed. "However, in the visions it showed me I learned there are more just like this one. Destroying it would make no difference, when there are others out there with the same powers that are much more likely to fall into the hands of evil men. Having this one in the Brotherhood's possession could benefit us if we go up against such an adversary again."
"You and I may be less affected than the others, but have you already forgotten the impact it has on most people?" Malik demanded. "I don't know how you manage to retain so much arrogance in the face of what we have seen."
Altaïr sighed. Up to that point he hadn't let any of the weariness he felt show in his tone or expression. Now he rested his head in his hands, letting his stoic façade slip the tiniest bit. "It is for the Brotherhood to decide what we do with the orb."
"You lead the Brotherhood now," Malik snapped. "You should make a definitive choice, for the good of us all. You cannot show indecisiveness when the Order is so weak."
"You are the one who always mocks my decisions," Altaïr snarled back.
"I did," Malik admitted. "But you have learned since then. Or at least I thought you had."
They lapsed into silence. He assumed Malik was waiting for him to come back with some sharp retort. He had endured the dai's acidic comments when he had visited his Bureau because he had had to. Now, when there were no such constraints on him, he just didn't have the energy. The fight with Al Mualim and the things the Apple had showed him had drained him.
"I don't think these objects can be destroyed," Altaïr said at last. "But we might as well try." He picked up the Apple, careful to keep his sleeve between it and his skin, and set it down on the floor. Before Malik could protest, he grabbed his short sword and brought it down on the artifact.
There was a flash of white light, and then nothing.