Here we go, chapter 10! Just as a note, the timeline in my story doesn't quite align with that of the game. Bear with me here guys! (Also… please review! I'd love to know what ya'll think.)
Connor POV
I ride into New York for the first time in a year. I haven't been here since Father and I teamed up to stop those thieves. I frown, now that I think on it I've only seen him once since then, and it was very brief and long ago, back when I helped retrieve Emily's things. It's weird, but I almost miss him. Almost.
I came here after an argument with Achilles, which happened to have been about Father. I have been thinking about talking to him about a real truce. A permanent one, order wide. Maybe he will agree, after all we get so much more done together, and I know he's mentioned working with me more permanently. I came here, having heard whispers that Father is in town. Though part of me wants to turn around and ride back to the homestead for some reason.
As I have that thought, I find Father. I have been tracking him, but I was not expecting to find him so easy. To my disappointment, he isn't alone. My favorite person is with him. I grunt, both in disgust and dismay, I don't want to be around Charles, not unless I'm killing him. They both mount their horses but sit still talking.
I turn away, having decided that I don't want to kill Charles. Allow me to rephrase: I do want to kill him, but I know Father would not be happy. He would probably try and kill me, too. Even I know I'm no match for him, and the number advantage Charles provides tilts the scales even further for them. Just as I'm about to spur my horse away, I hear the familiar British voice of Lee.
"Master Kenway! Look who it is!" he says. I groan, loud enough to be sure they both hear me, and face them once more.
"Son," Father says warmly. He smiles at me, and my heart warms. He's glad to see me?
"Father. Lee," I say, the second word said with hate. Father and Lee ride up to me. I glare daggers at Charles.
"It's good to see you, son. It's been a while. What brings you to New York?"
"You."
"You actually went looking for me? Should I be worried for my life, then?"
"Don't be silly. After a year of silence between us and our orders, and suddenly I decide to kill you? I'm not that unpredictable."
"Then what is it you need?"
"To talk to you alone."
"What you can say to me, you can say to Charles."
"Father, please, I would feel better if he weren't around."
"Fine. Charles?"
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"Quite. There's no danger, that bit about him coming to kill me was a joke. I trust him."
"As you wish." Charles rides away. We begin riding through the city.
"So, what is it? Or do you need more privacy than this?"
"I'm not worried," I say.
"So?"
"Well, I…" I feel silly now, thinking about what I'm going to propose. He won't agree, he'll only laugh in my face and call me naïve for thinking a truce would ever work.
"Yes? Is everything alright?"
"I… wanted you to help me find out what the Loyalists are planning. My fight has been lulled to a stop from lack of knowledge."
"Oh, of course. It's good that Charles is here, he can help—"
"I am not working with him. No way. You're lucky I respect your wishes and our truce enough to spare him his life, but I can barely stand to look at him."
"I know, I wish to see that change."
"Why?"
"Because, I can do little about changing how things are between us if you are at each other's throats."
"My relationship with you is independent of mine with him, Father."
"Not completely. To have any sort of relationship with you, I can't have you killing my second in command."
"I guess not. Doesn't mean I have to work with him."
"Fine, as you wish."
"So will you be able to call on a contact for this?"
"Should be, give me until sunset. Meet me then, by the docks where you dropped me off before."
"As you wish, Master Kenway," I say, mimicking Charles. Father scowls.
"What was that about?"
"Oh, well just that you spoke to me like one of your lapdogs, so I had to fit the character."
"Get lost, boy. Not too lost though, I better not wait for you long tonight like last time." I roll my eyes.
Several hours later, I ride for the docks. Father is talking to a man, an exasperated look on his face as the man talks with panic. I frown, that cannot be good. When I get close, Father subtly puts his hand up, telling me to stop. I comply, listening to their conversation.
"We need to know what the Loyalists are planning if we're to put an end to this," he says, as if he's talking to a child. It gives me a little comfort knowing he talks to others like that, not just me.
"I've tried! But the soldiers themselves are told nothing now! Only to await orders from above," the man says.
"Keep digging. Come find me when you have something worth sharing." The man nods and leaves. I approach Father, who crosses his hands behind his back and sighs. "We're so close to victory, you know. A few more well-placed attacks and we can put an end to this civil war and be rid of the Crown."
"What do you intend?" I ask, then frown at myself. I really have started letting him take the lead.
"Well, nothing at the moment, since we're completely in the dark."
"I thought the Templars had eyes and ears everywhere."
"Oh, we did. Until you started cutting them off." I have to force myself not to smile at this, it's good to know I've left my mark.
"Your contact said orders from above. That tells us exactly what we should do: track down the Loyalist commanders." Father grants me a tiny smile. Then he takes off running, me just behind him.
"I want to apologize," Father says, still running.
"Whatever for?" I reply.
"I intended to reach out to you sooner, it's been over a year since we've spoken. Not to mention I let your birthday go by without so much as a good wish."
"You know I don't care about that stuff."
"Well I do, son. It actually saddens me a bit that the old man doesn't do anything for you."
"Why?"
"Because, I seem to recall you enjoying the cake last year, despite your protests."
"Well, yeah, everyone likes cake though."
"Not everyone."
"You get my point." He pauses.
"And I'm sure you get mine. Maybe when this is over we could do something." I smile.
"Maybe. But we can't finish what we don't start, so come on." I nudge him, and he smiles and chuckles before continuing.
After some running and climbing in silence, we finally reach a short vantage point where we can spy on some British officers. He crouches on the ledge, and I stand just behind him. We watch and listen.
"Have you considered the proposal?" One asks.
"I'm unconvinced. To support them would leave New York exposed. It's hard enough keeping order with our current numbers. Cut in half…" the second says.
"Yet if we do not aid them they risk defeat, and then what?" says the third.
"Well they should have come by sea." Father sighs.
"They're talking in circles. We'll learn nothing, watching as we are," he whispers, then stands.
"Then what do you propose we do? March in there and demand answers?" I ask.
"Well, yes." I open my mouth to argue, but he air assassinates two guards before I can speak. This makes the second time.
"Ambush!" an officer yells.
"Connor? Little help here?" Father calls. I roll my eyes and join him. "Leave the commanders alive, Connor. We can interrogate them."
Haytham POV
I live for times like these, I can tell it's been a while since I've fought side by side with my boy. I didn't used to take such pleasure in fighting, especially because it usually means I'm doing work below me. But since Connor and I began working together, it's different. Now he isn't the enemy, or my smart mouthed son. He's a brother in arms, and a damn good soldier.
Which makes him even more endearing to me. This is probably the closest to bonding he and I will ever do. I can settle for this.
"Duck!" Connor shouts as he throws his tomahawk in my direction. I duck and hear the weapon make contact with flesh just behind me.
"Good throw," I say. Connor rolls and pulls his tomahawk from the chest of a soldier. Just before he rises, I swing my sword over his head and slice the throat of a soldier aiming his gun at Connor.
"Do not take my head off," he says.
"You should trust me more." Connor shoots a guard who is charging at me.
"Trust you? I'm the one who keeps saving you."
"I can handle myself." Connor snickers.
"As long as you've been single, I'm sure you can."
"Connor!" He stabs the last guard in the throat with his hidden blade, then smirks at me. We approach the now cowering commanders, and I tie their hands.
"We'll bring them back to my quarters at Fort George and see what secrets they may share," I say as I tie the last one's hands. The first one slips loose and takes off. "Really?" I turn to Connor. "Well, you best get after him."
"You go. I will watch the prisoners," Connor says.
"No, you do it."
"Why me?"
"Because I said so! Now go!" Connor reluctantly follows the man, and I sigh after him. "I never thought I would say those words."
Connor POV
I'm making my way to the fort with the commander, and I must say he's feeling quite uncooperative. When it comes into view, he fights even harder. I sigh and wrestle him to the entrance, which I'm assuming the reason it's wide open is for me.
"Wait! I'll tell you anything you want, anything! Only don't make me go in there!" he pleads.
"We just have some questions for you," I reply.
"Cross that threshold and I'm a dead man." I open my mouth to reply, but Father cuts me off.
"Connor, there you are. I was worried you had gotten lost," he says, and I glare at him. He takes the commander by the arm. "Come along, then."
The soldier looks back at me with a pleading look. But I can't say or do anything, who am I that Father would listen?
He sits the commander in a chair and ties him to it. I look at the other two, who appear to be unconscious. That's odd…
"What are the British planning?" Father asks.
"To march from Philadelphia. That city's finished, New York's the key. They'll double our numbers, push back the rebels," he replies.
"When do they begin?"
"Two days from now."
"June 18th. I must warn Washington," I say, and Father shrugs.
"See, that wasn't so difficult now, was it?" Father asks.
"I've told you everything. Now let me go," the commander replies.
"Of course." Father walks around behind him, then extends his hidden blade as if to cut the rope. Instead, he slits the man's throat. "The other two said the same thing, it must be true."
"You killed him! You killed all of them, why?!" I ask, almost shouting.
"They would have warned the Loyalists."
"You could have held them here until the fight was done."
"What, and waste precious time and money on their care? What would be the point? They've given up what they knew." Father walks out without letting me rebuttal. "I'll meet you at Valley Forge."
Haytham POV
I pace back and forth, wiping my brow as I wait for Connor. It's too hot for this nonsense. I sigh and look down the path, finally hearing a horse. Sure enough it's my son, galloping this way. He comes to a halt not far from me and dismounts, then leads me inside.
"We should be sharing what we know with Lee, not Washington," I mention.
"You seem to think I favor him, but my enemy is a notion, not a nation. It is wrong to compel obedience, whether to the British Crown, or the Templar Cross. And I hope in time the Loyalists see this too, for they are also victims," he says. I stop and put my hand on his shoulder, so he stops too.
"You oppose tyranny. Injustice. But these are just symptoms. Their true cause is human weakness. Why do you think I keep trying to show you the error of your way?"
"You have said much, yes. But you have shown me nothing." With that, he continues.
"We'll have to remedy that then, won't we?" With that, I follow.
When Connor and I reach Washington, he's intently reading a letter, a frown on his face. Connor steps ahead of me and folds his hands, standing there respectfully. I almost want to slap him for it.
"Sir," Connor says, and I barely stop myself from groaning. Connor calling someone sir is so weird, but especially Washington.
"Ah, Connor," Washington begins, turning to face Connor but ignoring me. So I snoop while they talk.
Connor isn't going to like this.
"And what's this?" I say, picking up the letter.
"Private correspondence," Washington says, then dives to grab it. I dodge him with ease.
"Oh, of course it is. Would you like to know what it says, Connor?" Connor looks at Washington, who looks defeated. He knows Connor won't forgive him for this.
"I… I mean…" Connor stutters. He doesn't know whose side he should take here.
"It seems your good friend here has just ordered an attack on your village." I pause, and Connor looks at the commander, the feeling of betrayal clear on his face. I pity him but am proud that I caught this. "Although attack would be putting it lightly. Tell him, Commander."
"We've been receiving reports of allied natives working with the Loyalists. I asked my men to put a stop to it," Washington says.
"By burning their villages and salting their land. By calling for their extermination, according to this letter." Then I realize I can shed some light. "Not the first time, either. Tell him what you did eighteen years ago." Connor's eyes widen.
"Ista…" he whispers, and I know he knows what I'm talking about.
"That was another time. The Seven Years War," Washington says.
"And now you see what happens to this 'great man' when under duress," I say. "He makes excuses. Displaces blame. Does a great deal of things, in fact, except take responsibility!" Washington gets in my face, about to retort.
"ENOUGH!" Connor shouts, and the loudness of his usually quiet voice makes me jump, and the whole camp goes silent. "Who did what and why must wait. My people come first." I pretend to not hear the shakiness of his voice, and instead sigh.
"Then let's be off."
"No. You and I are finished." I feel my heart shatter into a million pieces. This can't be the end. If we stop working together now, especially like this, we'll for sure kill each other.
"Son…" I say, surprised that I can manage no more than a whisper, my voice as soft and delicate as my heart feels. I want to say more, want to convince him not to do this, but I'm at a loss for words. This is the most hurt I've ever felt.
"Do you think me so soft that by calling me son I might change my mind? How long have you sat on this information, or am I to believe you only just discovered it now?" He's right, I handled this wrong. "My mother's blood may stain another's hand, but Charles Lee is no less a monster, and all he does he does by your command." He turns to go, but he must have sensed me reaching out to stop him, because he turns around sharply. "A warning to you both: choose to follow me or oppose me and I will kill you." With that, he storms away to the nearest horse, stealing it and galloping away.
"Well played, Kenway. Now we have both lost an asset," Washington says.
"Is that all my son is to you? An asset? A tool? How could you betray him like this?" I demand. I'm so angry and hurt, and this bastard dare call my son an asset?
"It isn't my fault the natives are causing problems! Maybe he should have kept them under control!"
"They're his people, not his servants! You realize that the only reason he ever aided you was to protect them, and you turn on him like this! You better come up with a damn good reason why I don't chop off your head and feed it to the wolves!"
"If you kill me, not even a man of your skill could escape this camp alive."
"Perhaps, but your life isn't worth even risking my own. If you'll excuse me, my son needs my help." I storm away.
"He wasn't kidding, he will kill you!"
"Only if he knows I'm there!" I mount a horse and gallop away.
Finding Connor proved easy enough, I just had to cut through the trees in the general direction. I'm now following behind him as he enters the village. After a short conversation in Mohawk with an elderly woman, he heads back into the forest on foot.
I see him sneaking up on some natives and taking them out. I can guess that they're about to attack the patriots, and he's doing this to stop them from getting killed. I stealthily help him, then once they're all out go find my son. He's in a clearing with another native boy, about his age I'd guess.
They're circling each other, speaking quickly in Mohawk. The other man seems angry, pointing his finger every so often. Connor seems to be trying, in vain, to explain something. The soldier's presence, probably. After a few more moments, the other man attacks Connor, pinning him to the ground. They struggle over a knife, and just before I step out to intervene Connor stabs him with his hidden blade. Connor talks with him for a few minutes before he dies.
"Kanen'tó:kon, why did you make me do this?" Connor says. He kneels next to him, closes the man's eyes, and then weeps.
He quickly regains control of himself. He stands and wipes his eyes, then his face twists into a scowl.
"Someone will die for this," he says, then storms away.
The intensity of his voice is enough to give even me the chills.