Here we are with Chapter 7! I apologize if it's a bit boring, it's serving as a filler chapter. But the two Kenways will be back in action next chapter!

Connor POV

Father and I rented another room together, since it had taken us nearly the whole day to travel here. He went out to do some digging, and I must admit I am pleased that he volunteered to help. He even insisted I stay here, saying that he worried I would be exhausting myself. Which I'll admit, after being tormented last night with nightmares, then fighting that family of bears today, he is not wrong.

I actually find myself sleeping, even though I must admit it is very light. When Father returns, even though he is quiet, I still awake to the sound of the door and his gentle footsteps. I sit up and rub my eyes, then stretch a bit. I don't look at him, not yet.

"Son, I see you took my advice and rested. The day is still young though, and I have something for you," he says, sitting down at the small round table in the center of the room. I look at him with tired eyes.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Come look." I sigh and get up, wondering what trick he has up his sleeve. I approach him, then stop when I see what's on the table. I look at him, knowing that shock is clear on my face.

"What is this?" I ask as though it's not obvious. A small cake sits on a white plate on the table. It is iced with blue icing, and in green says 'Happy 21st'.

"It… looks like a cake to me, son." I roll my eyes.

"I know what it is, Father. What is it for?"

"I think you know that answer as well, and I know you can read."

"Okay, wise guy. What I mean is, why did you get it?"

"Because this is your first birthday I've spent with you, and I couldn't just do nothing for it. For you. It means something to me, even if it doesn't to you." I can't fight the smile on my face, and mumble under my breath. "What's that?"

"Nothing… just that I hope it isn't the last." He smiles as well.

"I'm glad you feel that way."

"Still, you should not have done this. In fact, I asked you not to."

"Well, it appears I listen to you as well as you do to me." I just chuckle.

"Touché. Well, since you went to the trouble of getting a cake, are we going to eat it?"

"After you, my boy."

I sit down next to Father, then pick up the knife that sits next to the cake. I begin cutting it, smiling as his hand rests on my shoulder fondly. It's easy to like him sometimes, I decide. In a different world, where Assassins and Templars don't exist, he would have made a good father.

"I did do some digging as promised, though," Father says as we each eat our cake. Briefly the thought of him poisoning this crosses my mind, but only after I've taken a bite. But he's eating it too, I think, and decide to try and have some trust in him.

"And?" I ask before taking another bite. The cake turned out to be chocolate, which pleases me. I love chocolate.

"I've arranged to meet one of my contacts tomorrow about it, he keeps up with the goings on quite well, especially in the criminal world."

"Do you think he'll have information?"

"I'm not completely sure, but he is our best bet. A couple people I talked to tonight recommended I speak to him, so I sent them to arrange a meeting."

"I suppose you expect me to sit around here waiting for your return?"

"Nonsense, you can come along." I raise my eyebrows.

"I can? Even though I'm the known enemy? I thought our partnership is a secret."

"It is. I don't mind revealing it to this person, though. I am going to need to go ahead and warn them, though, just so things stay in control."

"I see. That sounds fine. When do we go, then?"

"First thing in the morning, probably close to sunup."

"Okay." I finish my cake and put the plate on the table.

"How was it?"

"The cake? It was quite good."

"I was concerned, I don't know if you like chocolate or not."

"I… I love chocolate."

"Do you? Interesting."

"Why is that interesting?"

"I also love it, I used to ask my father to take me to this chocolate place back home all the time."

"That sounds nice. I wasn't introduced to it until Achilles brought me to town one day. It was the most delightful smell, and he treated me to some. Ever since then, he had to be careful about having it around the house. In my teenage years I devoured it."

"It's good to know we have that in common, then."

"I suppose." He sighs.

"Well, son, I'm going to turn in. You should too."

"Okay, Father. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He and I went to our respective beds.

"Father?" I say after he lays down.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"Of course, son."

When I wake up the next morning, Father is getting ready to leave. I notice him eating some more of the cake and smile a bit. He definitely has a sweet tooth. I like learning little things like that about him.

"Connor. Good morning," he says.

"Morning," I say, or more like mumble. I am not a morning person.

"Still tired?"

"A bit, I suppose. I see you made a healthy choice for breakfast." He smiles as he looks at his three-fourths eaten piece of cake.

"If it helps, I usually do eat better."

"But the cake was too much to resist?"

"Can you blame me?" I shrug.

"I suppose not. Are we about to leave?"

"Yes. I figured I might go ahead and meet you there."

"Do you really think that is necessary? I can just go with you. It won't be a big deal." He frowns.

"I don't know. I suppose you can, but before we leave I need you to promise me something."

"Okay, what is it?"

"No matter what, you cannot attack him, hurt him, or even threaten him. I need you on your best behavior." I roll my eyes. I was beginning to think we made progress, yet here he is talking to me like a child.

"That goes without saying, Father."

"I'm serious, I want you to promise."

"Why?"

"Humor me."

"Fine! I promise."

"Okay. I am ready when you are."

"Just let me fix my fair and put my weapons on." He nods.

After a few minutes, we head out. We both mount a horse, and I follow him through the city. We ride for what feels like forever in silence, and I begin to notice the buildings becoming less frequent. We are now surrounded by the stench of farm animals, and we pause outside one of the farms.

"Is this where he lives?" I ask, scrunching my nose. There are pigs, cows, and goats all around, and it smells like it.

"No. A friend lives here, one completely uninvolved in the Assassin and Templar battle. I felt it best this way," he answers.

"So you don't trust me." He hesitates.

"I'm sorry, son. But you will understand in a moment." We then enter the property, riding through the fields.

He looks at me over his shoulder as we dismount. We stop in front of a little white house, with the paint wearing down on it. We approach it, me behind Father, and he knocks on the door.

After a few moments, a man about my height but incredibly thin opens the door. He's dressed in dirty clothes, and I resist scrunching my nose at his smell, which matches the rest of the property. He smiles at the sight of Father.

"Haytham! Good to see you!" he says, much too eagerly for my liking. Father smiles.

"Hello, Lucas. Good to see you as well. This is my son, Connor," Father says, and once again I feel shocked at this introduction. It's one thing to say so to mercenaries who wound up dead anyway, but to a friend of his?

"Good to meet you, Connor. Name's Lucas," the man said, extending a dirty hand. I get over myself and shake it anyway.

"Nice to meet you, sir," I say as politely as I can.

"Please, won't you come in?"

"Thank you. Come along, Connor," Father says, and I follow the two.

"He's in the kitchen at the moment. Would either of you care for tea?"

"No, thank you. We won't be here long, I'm afraid."

"No problem. Here we are." I look into the kitchen and feel my blood boil.

"You have got to be kidding me. He is our contact?!" I say, almost shouting. Charles Lee opens his eyes wide at the sight of me.

"Sir, you have some explaining to do," Charles said. "When you said you weren't coming alone, this is not what I expected!" I remain unmoving in the doorway, scowling at Charles.

"Connor, why don't you come sit down? We have some discussions to do," Father says.

"Sit down? At the same table as this… this monster? I should kill him!" I say, enraged.

"But you won't. You promised." Dammit, I did. It makes sense now.

"I should not have come here. I can't believe you'd do this!"

"Connor, lower your voice. You are behaving like a child."

"You betrayed me! How do I know this isn't a plan to kill me?"

"I could have killed you last night in your sleep if that was my plan. Or the night before. Or on your ship."

"False, you know as well as I do if you tried anything on my ship you would have died."

"Can we please discuss why you're even working with the enemy?" Charles asks.

"You zip it, I'm still not convinced that I won't slit your throat right here," I growl at Charles.

"Hey! That is enough, boy. Sit down. Both of you," Father says.

"Why?"

"Because I said so, Connor. Sit." I glare daggers at Father. "Do I need to drag you?" I growl but comply. "You as well, Charles." Lee looks at me warily.

"If I was planning to kill you, Lee, I would have," I say.

"Connor."

"What?"

"What happened to no threats?"

"That wasn't a threat!"

"I disagree."

"Like I care what you think."

"Charles, please. He gave me his word earlier he would do you no harm. Just sit."

"Who's to say he'll keep his word?" Charles asks.

"I trust him."

"Oh, you trust him? How long have you been working together?"

"He helped me find Church."

"Why?"

"I needed help."

"Liar."

"Fine, so I didn't need help. But he made it go a lot quicker. I had been working on finding him too long and grew tired of it."

"So you decided to team up with our greatest enemy?"

"Well…."

"Well what? You should have killed him the second you got a chance!"

"Maybe I couldn't!" I raise my eyebrows and look at Father. Thinking back on that day at the church, I know he very well could have. Or… does he mean he couldn't bring himself to…?

"Why not?"

"Well… I…" I've never seen Father at a loss for words. This must be a hard discussion.

"You don't even have a reason? No explanation?" Father is quiet for several moments. When he does speak, it's barely a whisper.

"He's my son, Charles."

"Wait, what?" Charles looks at me. "Oh. It's hers, isn't it? The native woman you ran away with?"

"Yes."

"Um, "it"?" I interject.

"I knew he looked familiar…" Charles says, ignoring me. "Still, that's no reason. No excuse. He may be your son, but he is still the enemy. I cannot say I support this, even a little. Sir."

"Well, I don't need you to support it. What I do is my business," Father says.

"I think you know as well as I do that keeping him alive is enabling him to tear us apart even further."

"That's why I wanted him here though, to try and figure out how bad things are between the two of you, and maybe…"

"No. No way. I hate this man, I will never forgive him or learn to tolerate him," I say. "Do not bother trying to make it happen."

"Oh, boy, don't think the feeling isn't mutual," Charles snarls.

"Enough," I say, standing back up. "Father and I are in a hurry, if you don't mind I have no wish to stay in the same room as you, Charles, since I did promise not to hurt you. Will you just get off Father's back and give us the information we came for?"

"You're lucky I have enough respect for your father not to finish you right now!"

"Oh, that is rich. If you dared come after me, especially for my life, promise or no promise I would kill you."

"Yeah right, you can barely take care of yourself. I have no doubt that I could handle you."

"Oh, is that a fact? Why don't you ask Johnson, Pitcairn, or even Hickey about what happens when you mess with me?"

"Connor!" Father says. "That is enough out of both of you. Sit your asses down." I huff but obey. Charles sits as well, though more tentatively. We maintain eye contact the whole time. Father joins us.

"This discussion is not over, Haytham," Charles says.

"Yes, you can chew my ear off later. For now, shall we be on to business?"

"Yes, dear contact of ours, what secrets might you share? Or do you know anything at all?" I say.

"Son," Father says, the scolding tone of his voice saying more than even he could in words.

"Sorry. For the record, I'm apologizing to you, Father, not Lee." He rolls his eyes.

"Anyway, what do you know of a band of thieves based here?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that. This is New York, after all, it's crawling with thieves," Charles says.

"Well, Connor, this is your mission. Why don't you give the details?" I glare at him.

"Fine. From what I've learned, they work for the British. Stealing supplies to sell to them. Kind of like what Church was doing, except they're also robbing innocents," I say. "According to my sources, they've been known to use some fairly advanced poison, killing anyone in their way indiscriminately."

"Perhaps I know what you're talking about, I've heard about these thieves that are doing the same," Charles says.

"What do you know of it?"

"Well, I can give you a location. A general area, anyway."

"That's a start," Father says.

"They are going to be found North of here, in an old abandoned warehouse. I'm told it's near a windmill, though specifically where is unclear."

"Well then, that's where we begin our search. Come along, Connor. Thank you, Charles."

"Don't think I'm done talking to you about this, Haytham." I roll my eyes and get up.

"Unless I'm mistaken, he's in charge of your Order, so he doesn't really owe you an explanation," I say, then turn to go. Father looks after me, slightly baffled. "Are you coming?" He sighs and follows. I must admit, I am proud of myself for staying my hand. I hope Father understands what a sacrifice I made on his behalf. Sparing Lee was a hard decision, and one I'm sure I'll come to regret.