The Grave
It was a brisk September morning. The sky was overcast and if you sighed aloud your breath would momentarily be a cloud in the air, a mere wisp, before disappearing. Connor exited the Davenport Manor and crossed the front lawn, the frost-covered grass crunching beneath his boots. He walked up the small hill near by, approaching the three graves that laid at the top.
He was the only resident within the manor; all of the other residents of the Homestead had their own homes and businesses. For a long time it seemed to big and empty for one person; and lonely, too. He may as well admit it. However, Connor eventually got used to it.
Connor reached the top of the hill and sat down in front of the freshest grave, although at that point it was nearly a year old. For a moment, there was silence, and Connor bit his lip.
"It's... been a long time since we last spoke." he said eventually.
Achilles remained silent, not that Connor expected him to speak anyways.
"The Homestead has grown into quite a large community." Connor went on, looking at the grave, "I think... I think you would be proud, if you could see it now. Although," he added in what was almost a laugh. "I think you would complain about the noise a lot. It can get kinda noisy, especially during the day, especially with all the children running about. One couple even has a new baby girl.
"I'm even training a few new assassins. Their fighting is getting better, especially with swords and pistols, but they're still abysmal in free-running and tree climbing." Connor said, "I think that they can get there with practice. I've also been teaching them how to fall off of rooftops. One man did it wrong; he threw his arm out behind him and ended up breaking it. It'll heal, though.
"Anyways," Connor continued, "We're actually thriving. I really wish you could see it. We've... come a long way, since I first came to the manor... thirteen years ago." he realized, after a quick bit of math, "I've been living here for half my life. Amazing."
The sun was rising a little higher now, and the frost was melting. Connor stood, continuing to watch the grave. He brushed off some nonexistent dust off of his robes.
"I should get going." he said flatly, "I told the apprentices I would meet with them soon. It was good talking with you again, though."
For a moment, there was silence save for the twittering of birds in the canopy of leaves and pine beetles over their heads. Connor stood there for a moment longer, feeling like he should say something else.
"Happy birthday, Achilles." he said simply, before heading down the hill once more, back to his home.