Chapter 7. The Green Dragon

The pages of the diary felt crisp as Kira flicked through them. She passed the book between her hands, examining it from every angle, moving her fingers across every inch of the dark leather with which it was covered. She stared down at it, quizzically. She didn't understand.

When Haytham had asked her to retrieve the journal, she'd promised she wouldn't destroy it. But now, left with the decision of giving it to him or keeping it to herself, her mind just wouldn't settle on an answer. She had presumed that after reading it- after seeing what it contained- that it would be easy to decide what to do. But the contents had been commonplace. It was a thief's diary, and nothing more. There were no powerful secrets; no insights into anything that the Templar's would be interested in. If there had been, then the decision would be easier to make. There would be obvious consequences to whatever Kira decided to do. But it didn't seem as if it would matter, either way.

If it didn't make a difference- to whom the diary belonged- then why did she care? Why had she spent hours over the past days pondering about what to do? Her attention to the whole business was about as senseless to her as Haytham's wanting of the diary seemed to be. Every part of her told her to keep the journal; that if the Templar's didn't have it, then nothing could go wrong. But Haytham cared about getting it- cared about something worthless. And Kira wanted to know why. Perhaps it was of value. Perhaps she was missing something. Perhaps some powerful secret really was concealed within. If so, then the book would be far more important than Kira thought, and more dangerous, too.

So she needed to dispose of it then. Just in case.

She held this in mind as she treaded along through Boston's streets, searching for a Templar agent. If she disposed of the journal, she would never know that secret that lay concealed inside. If it existed, that is. For now, she decided to let her curiosity overrule her better judgement. She could imagine Achilles scolding her for allowing herself to do so, and prayed that he and Connor both would remain unaware of her actions. Which wouldn't be for long, if she wasn't careful.

Kira turned into an alley, and looking up, saw a good place to ascend the nearest building. After ensuring no-one was around, she began the short climb, and moments later found herself overlooking Boston's rooftops. It was beautiful- every time. The whole city spread about in front of her, for her to watch. If time had been on her side, she'd have liked to taken a minute or two more to admire the scenery. But it wasn't, and after surveying the rooves of the buildings around her, she saw what she'd been looking for. A Templar spy, studying a street below diligently. He wasn't too far, and quietly Kira crossed the rooftops- in all of the ways that she had been taught. Reaching the house on which the man was, she crept forwards, the sound of her footsteps concealed by the buzz of the townsfolk below. She continued on before stopping, when the man was within her reach.

In one swift movement she dug her foot deep into the inside of his knee, one arm reaching out to catch his as he lost his balance and fell forwards towards the street. She tugged it sharply to the right, twisting him so he fell instead onto the building, and at her feet. He lay, temporarily stunned as she drew her dagger, crouched, and pressed the blade against his neck.

"Not one movement." She commanded, pressing the blade slightly harder to enforce her point. He nodded slightly, his eyes wide with fear. They pleaded with her, silently and she glared mercilessly back.

"Your Grand Master, where is he?" She asked, unmoved by his desperate gaze. He shook his head, despite his situation.

"I- I can't-''

"Where is he?" She repeated, some blood beginning to appear around her dagger. He grimaced with pain as she pushed harder. He glanced around, before meeting her stare once more.

"Please… They'll kill me.''

"I'll kill you."

She stood abruptly, but before allowing him time to react, put her foot to his knee and pushed it hard to the ground- threatening to break his leg at any second.

"The Green Dragon!" He exclaimed, his face twisted in agony. "Please, you'll find him there. Just don't-''

She bent down, bringing the hilt of her dagger strongly against his head, and watched as he fell unconscious. Dragging him behind the nearest chimney, she straightened and looked towards her next destination.

Haytham allowed his gaze to sweep over his followers who sat around a table before him. They all looked at him, expectantly, as he leaned forward to address them.

"Gentlemen, we find ourselves in a difficult position. The situation in Boston grows more troublesome each day, and it is with regret that I inform you we are beginning to lack in the supplies we need to maintain our current level of control."

"What of Shay Cormac?" Spoke Samuel Pitcairn, his brow furrowed in thought. "It was to my belief that he was due back from Europe with the supplies we need any day now."

"Indeed, he was. I recently had word stating, however, that the weather conditions of late across the Atlantic have been far from optimal. We can expect his arrival to be delayed, indefinitely."

Samuel's gaze went to the table, which he studied as he considered other solutions to the problem. Likewise, his companions all began to discuss further possibilities, whilst Haytham looked on- equally determined to think of an answer. His eyes moved to a candle, placed in the centre of the table, and watched as the flames danced and flickered in the air. Transfixed, but still focused on the task at hand, an idea struck him.

"It is possible, however, that if we were to-''

His words faded as he levelled his gaze with that of his followers. They were not listening to him, as he had expected, but were all staring at something behind him. They wore mixed expressions: Thomas looked on, with an interested smile, and Charles glared angrily; the others seemed to be more curious, than anything else. Almost reluctantly, Haytham regarded their looks one more time before cautiously turning to look behind his right shoulder- intrigued as to what could have inspired such an interest in his companions.

Looking up, his eyes widened slightly as they were met by Kira Lawrence's regard. Of course it was her. He cursed himself silently for not having realised sooner, and also for not hearing her approach. He'd have to be more attentive to his environment next time. Pushing these thoughts away, he smiled, courteously.

"Miss Lawrence," He said, nodding his head slightly in greeting. "Can I be of assistance?" It was asked almost ironically- as he realised he was speaking so customarily to an Assassin.

Kira looked down at the man, ignorant of the varied looks she received from the other Templars. He'd looked irritated when he'd first looked at her, and it took her a moment to realise he was frustrated with himself as opposed to her. But now he stared up at her, unwaveringly. That self-assured demeanour of his that always seemed to be so impossible to breach, restored before her eyes, and in a matter of seconds. She suddenly felt vulnerable in front of the small assembly- all of her sworn enemies watching her every movement and anticipating her reply- if they decided to attack her now, she wouldn't stand a chance.

"I need to speak with you." She addressed Haytham solely, and quickly added, "Alone."

Somehow Haytham sensed her discomfort, and turning to look across the table at his companions, he could make an educated guess as to why. He nodded to them.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen."

He stood, turning away from them and facing Kira, gesturing towards the front door of the inn.

"This way."

As Haytham closed the door behind them, Kira walked on a little before stopping and turning to face him. It was late in the evening, and the bustle of the streets had all but vanished, leaving a tranquil feel to the city. Everything was so quiet.

"Well?" Haytham's voice interrupted her thoughts. "What of the journal? Did you find it?"

She regarded him, suddenly lost for words. Most of her was still convinced that what she was doing was wrong. Instead of replying, she nodded, silently. She reached into her coat pocket and withdrew it reluctantly, as Haytham watched inquisitively. She held it in front of her, refusing to let her eyes part with it. The Templar soon decided she wasn't going to say anything, yet.

"And you're willing to give it to me?" He prompted.

"No. Well yes, it's just…"

She gestured in the air slightly with her free hand, as if trying to find the words she needed. Finally she met his gaze.

"… I've read it through, at least a dozen times, and there's nothing there. What do you want from it?"

"It is encrypted. Should you decide to let me have it, it will be a while before we manage to successfully decode the information we are searching for. You're right- there's nothing of value, at least, not at this current time."

"And say I were to give it to you; this information you so desperately seek, it would cause no harm to the Assassins if discovered?"

"No, you have my word."

She sighed, realising that despite her instincts telling her to walk away, she was going to inevitably give it to him. She didn't know why, which was something that concerned her deeply. Still, having finally come to this decision, she asked one last question.

"This journal. How much is it worth to you? Would you value it more than my life?"

Haytham stood, confused by the meaning of her asking such a strange question. He couldn't see why it would matter to her. He decided to be truthful, and he frowned slightly as he answered.

"Yes, I'd say so."

He'd expected her to be somewhat hurt by his response. But instead, she smiled, as if it were what she had wanted to hear.

"Good." She held the diary out to him. "Mr Kenway, the last time we spoke you told me that I owed you my life. Perhaps it was true, perhaps not. But still, I can't give you my life, so instead I offer you something of even higher value in recompense."

She watched as he took it from her.

"Consider all debts I may have had to you repaid. I don't want to see you on these or any other terms again, do you understand?"

"Perfectly, thank you." He nodded gratefully, somewhat amused by her words. He regarded her one last time.

"Goodnight, Miss Lawrence."

And with that he disappeared back inside, leaving Kira watching after him, trying to persuade herself that she had done the right thing. And if not, knowing she would suffer under the consequences.


Author notes:

Hi, everyone. Thanks for taking the time to read my story so far. Please review, follow, or favourite my story, as I appreciate all feedback, and I'd love to hear what you think. :)

This chapter's a little longer to make up for how late it is. Hope that you enjoyed it, and the next will be out soon.

Kittycat312