Darkness wrapped around Connor like a thick blanket. The waters beneath him looked like ink, sloshing gently against the hull of the boat as he rhythmically stroked the surface with a pair of oars. The half-moon hid behind the clouds, but it wouldn't be for long. They had to get across the river, quickly. The Assassin eyed the large, bulky silhouettes upstream.
Next to them, lantern light illuminated the night like a beacon, shining on blood-red shades. Even from here, Connor could hear the clamor of weapons and voices drifting over the water. The King's men, delivered from Boston. He glanced towards the front of the boat to see Revere sitting across from him, also leering at the danger. Connor continued to row quietly and swiftly, heading towards the black shore.
Finally, the hull of the small boat grounded against the bank, just as the moon slipped out from behind the clouds. Revere didn't hesitate to leap out while the native glanced at the ships. They were around a bend now—none of the soldiers would see them. Still, Connor would rather be safe than sorry. He jumped out and took a hold of the boat. Bracing his muscles and digging his heels in, he pulled. He had to get it out of sight. He expected Revere to come and help him, but instead the man was already sauntering away.
"Huh, they only left us one horse," the Son observed, eying the speckled gelding tied to a branch. "We'll have to ride together."
Completely ignoring Connor's grunts and hisses of effort as he battled with the boat, Revere went over to the gelding. Instead of taking the reins, the man jumped up behind the saddle.
"You take the reins, I'll navigate," he ordered nonchalantly. When Connor didn't immediately reply, he shouted, "Quickly, Connor! Get on the horse!"
Connor gave up. With a grunt, he let go of the boat and turned towards the man. Already his muscles were aching. With an annoyed hiss, the Assassin went over to the horse. After settling in the saddle and squeezing the horse's sides, they sped off into the night.
Connor vowed to give his life of service to the Assassin Brotherhood. To serve in the darkness in order to serve the night. That meant he would steal, sneak, and hide. He would never be seen by his enemy.
Obviously Paul Revere was not taught the same.
The man constantly nagged Connor, practically shouting in his ear—loud enough to deafen the poor boy and possibly alert any redcoats of their location. It was a miracle they were able to duck around several patrols without incident. The soldiers' presence made Connor's stomach knot. He did not know where they came from—either Pitcairn's men or scouts for the coming company. Either way, it meant the army was closer than they originally thought.
That meant they had to hurry to Lexington. And that meant more nagging from Revere. The Son continuously reminded Connor of their time limit, urging him to run the horse faster (and considering it was nearly pitch-black, the Assassin had no desire to do so). Aside from the fact the incompatible duo traveled through the forest all but blind, they were making progress.
Revere insisted stopping at every single homestead they came across to warn the residences of the coming danger—whether they may be militia or not. Connor was surprised that many did not react harshly to the news. Citizens took the news with solemn recognition while mercenaries lit up with a rebellious gleam. As Revere had said, the militias' response was immediate. The duo would come across a town militia and deliver the news, only for the men to automatically grab the nearest weapon. As they rode away, Connor would look over his shoulder to see another rider galloping away in another direction. Sometimes he would notice a band of men already disappearing into the woods
"What are they doing?" he asked his partner at one point.
"Mostly likely going to ambush the army—try to slow them down," Revere answered. A proud gleam appeared in his eye. "That's the Minutemen, for you."
The night went by relatively without incident, until...
Connor furiously kicked the gelding's sides, urging it to go faster. The horse whinnied and snorted in protest, but it reluctantly sped into a gallop, trying to balance the weight on his back. Revere's arms were wrapped around the native's waist in a death grip, and Connor had to remind himself not to turn around and punch the man. Instead, he focused on the musket balls that whizzed through the air, coming inches from them.
"Hurry, Connor!" Revere cried. "Faster! Faster!"
"Do you wish to lead?!" the Assassin snapped back.
The shouts of the regulars followed them as their pursuers stayed close behind them. Damnit, Connor knew something was wrong! The "town" was only made of a few poorly built houses, but as they neared the residence that was supposedly the home of Revere's friend, the native noticed there were quite a number of footprints in the mud. And considering the town was deathly quiet, it didn't add up. Now an entire squadron of soldiers chased them. Connor thanked the Spirits none of them had a horse. All they had to was get to the woods…
Connor's heart stopped as suddenly world lurched forward and the horse screamed. The Assassin's stomach flipped when the ground rushed up to meet him, only for his body to jar from the violent impact. Connor grunted as dirt cloaked his tongue, but he spat it out with disgust. A groan from Revere told the Son had similar treatment.
The native glanced up to see the gelding flailing on the ground, desperately trying to clamber to his feet. Connor had a pang of guilt when he realized what happened. He must have trying to push the horse too hard when he was unable to bear so much weight, forcing the animal to trip on his own feet. It was a miracle they weren't crushed. The warrior cursed at his foolishness, but it was too late. Already the sound of racing footsteps was upon them.
"Revere!" Connor shouted as he leaped to his feet, tomahawk in hand.
Revere, disoriented from the fall, merely blinked. Then he had the sense to look over his shoulder, only to see a burly man with a bayonet looming over him. The rebel gave a scream of fright and raised his arm to protect his head, but Connor knew it would be useless. Before the grenadier could skewer Revere's neck, the blade of the Assassin's tomahawk was buried in the brute's temple.
The man stood still for a moment, arms still raised, as a look of shock and pain fell across his face. Then his eyes glazed and the corpse fell to the ground. Just in time for two more redcoats appear.
They were infantry, but they did not wear the standard uniforms. Nonetheless, Connor met them head on, hidden blades unsheathed. He struck a blade at a man's throat, but the soldier was faster. In a blink of an eye, the man ducked out of the way and hooked his arm around Connor's. Just as quickly, the soldiers rolled over the Assassin's back, using his weight and momentum to bring the boy with him. But Connor was stronger.
As the man threw him, Connor twisted to plant his feet on the ground, instead throwing the soldier to the ground. The man let out a wail of surprise and disappointment, but it was interrupted when the Assassin struck a hidden blade in his throat. His opponent finished, Connor looked up to see Revere sparring with another soldier. He tensed his muscles to lunge over and help the Son, but he quickly realized it was not needed.
Revere parried an attack from the soldier, only to barely avoid a bayonet to his eye. The attack made him duck back, giving him enough room to pull out his flintlock and aim it at the redcoat's face. Just as the infantryman widened his eyes, a clap of thunder filled the air and a cloud of smoke appeared. The soldier fell.
Connor stared at the rebel, somewhat surprised and impressed. He didn't expect Revere, a simple silversmith, to be able to hold his own against a trained soldier. Then again, the man did well guarding an entire ship from waves of them. The man clipped his pistol to his belt before he glanced at the Assassin.
"What?" he questioned.
Connor was about to reply, but didn't have the chance. Another crack filled the air and he heard a musket impact the stone next to his foot. The warrior snapped his neck to see almost a dozen redcoats sprinting towards them, bayonets in hand as they screamed insults and orders.
"RUN!" Connor screamed, taking off from his spot.
Revere gapped his jaw at the event before looking back and forth between the Assassin and the incoming mob of angry regulars. He put two and two together before letting out a yelp. He did several steps backwards until finally turning around and running towards the horse. Connor ran after him, making sure to reclaim his tomahawk from the downed grenadier.
The pair of runaways leaped onto the horse, ignoring the poor animal's snorts of protest. Instead, Connor violently kicked his sides even before he was properly on the saddle. Despite his reluctance, the gelding sped off into the woods. Immediately the canopy cloaked them in shadow and thick brush hid them from the sights of their pursuers. Even though Connor was almost blind, the horse was able to weave between the trees without difficulty, unhindered that there was no road.
Connor gave a relieved sigh as the shouts behind them faded, swallowed by the forest. He slowed the horse to a steady canter, though the beast tossed his head, wanting to stop altogether.
"Whew, that was far too close for comfort," Revere sighed. The man paused as Connor steered the horse onto a dirt road, narrow and unused. Good, it meant they were less likely to run into patrols. However, just as Connor led the horse down the path, Revere shouted again. "Wait! We're near Prescott's place! This way, Connor!"
The Assassin groaned as the order was once again a yell and the man pointed away from the trail. Nonetheless, the teenager tugged the reins, leading the horse further into the woods. He wondered what got Revere so excited, and then he noticed a lone cabin. It was surrounded by a grove of trees, so it would be easily missed if one wasn't looking. It was only because of the lone lantern beside the front door that Connor noticed it. Still, it seemed fairly too small to be housing a militia.
"We should find Samuel Prescott here," Revere explained as he ungracefully slid off the horse. "He's lived in these parts for his entire life. There's no better man that can point us in the right direction."
Apparently completely forgetting the fact the pair barely survived an ambush, the Son strutted to the front door without a second thought. Connor joined him on ground and raised a hand to stop him, but the man's shoulder slipped just out of reach. The boy sighed and rolled his eyes, but dutifully followed. He paused as Revere knocked on the door. As they waited, the Assassin scanned the area, more alert for threats. He didn't see any sign of redcoats, nor did he any sign of anyone. He looked back as Revere pounded again, harder.
"Where the devil is he?" Revere exclaimed.
"Are you certain you have the right place?" Connor questioned.
"Of course I'm certain! C'mon, we'll check 'round back."
The man sauntered away from the door as the teenager followed. Only when they stepped around the corner, a pale figure appeared before them. Connor flinched in reflex, only to widen his eyes when he realized it was a woman. Completely naked.
Her chest was in full view of the pair of jaw-dropped men. The brunette gave a squeak and covered her breasts before sprinting away, disappearing into the woods as quickly as she appeared. The duo couldn't help but stare after her, still trying to process what just happened. They didn't have a chance to recall what they had seen as they heard as another set of footsteps.
"Prescott...?" Revere gasped.
This time it was a man with dark hair and a thick beard covering his face. He only wore a plaid green shirt ...and a pair of underwear. Connor made the mistake of glancing down at his crotch, only to gulp and quickly glance back up. Completely unaware of his visitors' dumbfounded expressions, the man greeted them warmly with a salute.
"Evening, gents!" he said with a slurred voice. Even though he was standing still, he swayed.
"Listen, the regulars are out," Revere reported. "We need you to come with us." He glanced at the man's groin while Connor found an interesting tree to look at. "And, um... put on some trousers."
"Why, of course!" The man disappeared back in his home with a nod. Now it was Revere's turn to groan with a shake of his head.
"Oi…"
The pair waited several minutes for Prescott to fix himself up and ready his horse. Connor figured in the man's drunken state, he could never pull himself together, but he moved with surprising swiftness. He leaped onto the saddle of his horse with ease, now fully dressed with sage coat. He nodded to Revere and Connor, who nodded back and the group cantered back towards the road.
Thankfully Lexington wasn't far, as Prescott's hideaway was only on its outskirts. The town was more organized than the other frontier settlements Connor had visited that night. A few large buildings were even constructed from brick instead of salvaged wood. The boy even noticed a small church with a tower looming over the small town. The buildings were spread out with dirt roads between them, large fields of farms stretched out beyond.
"Hmm… no sign of Dawes," Revere observed as they rode through the town's center. "I hope he's alright."
Connor's stomach twisted. If Dawes encountered as many patrols as they did, Revere had a right to be worried.
"He took the longer route, no?" Prescott spoke up. "It's probably taking him more time. He'll get here eventually."
Revere hummed while the horses cantered through dirty streets. They came to a large whitewashed building; this one actually having two-stories. Connor pulled the reins, instructing the horse to a stop beside the house as he got off. Revere and Prescott followed his example. As the Assassin neared the front door, he noticed the shutters were closed tight and no noise came from inside.
Makes sense, he thought. Make the house seem abandoned so no one will suspect they're here.
Connor paused before taking the handle, glancing back at Revere, who nodded. Taking that as permission, the Assassin opened the door and stepped inside. He blinked when he was greeted by darkness, not even a single candle lit. However, the two colonists didn't seem concerned, already making their way to the living room.
It seemed to be the only room that was lit, illuminated by a dancing fire in the hearth. Around the fire were three wooden chairs, all occupied. Connor recognized Adams and Dawes, but the third man was a stranger. He wore a burgundy coat and his silver hair was tied in a queue. So that must have been John Hancock.
The fugitives faced the fire, not even turning at the newcomers' approach. Only Adams spared a glance, but it was short.
"Ah, Paul. Connor. Good to see you," the rebel leader greeted, but his tone was strangely flat. Connor didn't hesitate. The army couldn't be far behind.
"You need to leave," he warned. "The redcoats are coming."
"I'm afraid they are the least of our problem," Hancock muttered.
Connor squinted and tilted his head. What? Then he heard a single creak and rattle of weapons behind him. He whirled around, only to feel the end of a flintlock pressed against his throat.
"It seems your warning came too late, Assassin."
A chill crawled up Connor's spine.
"Selah," he breathed, raising his hands.
The young Templar glared at him, her dark eyes filled with the fury she had been holding the last year. Along with the fury she held against the Sons, which only made her gaze that much more frightening. Looking into her fearsome eyes, Connor truly wondered if it was possible for one person to hold so much hatred. Then again, he asked himself that every day.
He glanced over to see several more Templars step into the light, guns pointed at the Sons' backs. Immediately Revere and Prescott raised their hands. A sweat broke out on Prescott's brow and Revere turned a deathly pale.
"Selah, this is a mistake," Connor said carefully.
"The only mistake I made was letting you live in Boston," Selah replied, her voice both cold and filled with regret. "Now Johnson is dead because of it."
"Then your quarrel is with me. Let the Sons of Liberty go."
Selah's eyes narrowed into slits. "I didn't come just for you. I'm here to deliver justice for the lives these men have stolen."
"What are you talking about?" Adams spoke up.
The angry Templar glared at them. "I guess you wouldn't know, would you? Too caught up in your rebellion to see the damage your crusade causes." She turned to Connor. "But now that I understand it's you Assassins behind it all, that doesn't surprise me."
Unfortunately Revere heard the last bit. "I'm sorry, come again?"
"Quiet!" Selah snapped, unsheathing her sword and placing its tip on the man's throat. Revere straightened and gulped.
Though he kept a stony-face, Connor's heart leapt with panic. So the Templars believed the Sons were part of the Brotherhood. And his coming here had only convinced them even more. A pang of guilt struck the Assassin's chest. He had to come to help, but he had only put the Sons of Liberty in more danger.
"Selah," Connor dared to speak up. The Templar looked back to him. "They have nothing to do with this fight."
"They're the ones causing this fight! They would throw this whole continent in war just to pursue their own gains."
"They only wish to see this land free. It is the army that sends their men to a fight."
"And it was the Sons that spilled innocent blood."
"Never!" Adams interjected. Selah sent a death glare in the man's direction.
"Then what of the grave of a little girl your drunken miscreants murdered?"
The rebel leader's eyes widened. "What? That can't be…"
"Like I said, you don't even know the consequences of your actions."
"And it was your actions that started all this in the first place," Connor interrupted. The Templar shifted her gaze by to him. "When you caused the Boston Massacre."
Instead of a cold gaze like Connor expected, a strange flash appeared in Selah's eyes. Her next words were a murmur.
"No one was supposed to be hurt…" she breathed. Connor raised his eyebrows, but quickly recovered and continued his argument. He had to quell her anger before they all were killed.
"No one is supposed to get hurt tonight," the Assassin pressed. "Walk away, Selah."
The teenager hoped he finally had gained some ground, but that strange look vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that furious glare.
"No one will, when you and the Sons of Liberty are dead," Selah growled.
"Please, don't do this," Adams spoke up. "You can still reconsider."
Selah turned to him. "There is nothing to reconsider. I hereby declare you enemies of the British Empire."
Connor acted quickly.
While Selah glanced away, he slammed his arm against her elbow, forcing her to lower her gun. The Templar yelped in surprise, but before she could slice poor Revere's throat, the Assassin rammed into her, throwing her to the floor. The Sons of Liberty didn't hesitate.
Adams, Hancock, and Dawes leaped to their feet, charging for the Templars. Revere whirled around to face his captor, sword drawn. Prescott, acting quickly, simply elbowed his guard's chin, knocking the Templar unconscious. Meanwhile, Connor settled his weight on Selah, pinning her down. But the rebellious Templar would not be defeated so easily.
Without warning, Selah's fist shot out, striking Connor's eye with surprising strength. The Assassin grunted as his neck was snapped to the side, but he wasn't dazed enough to miss hearing the sound of metal sliding against metal. With supreme reflexes, he snatched Selah's wrist, right before she could bury her hidden blade in his throat.
Connor's eyes widened. So she also had one… Then that meant…
The Assassin leaned out of the way just in time to avoid the Templar's second blade. However, the action forced him to shift his weight on Selah, allowing the older warrior to raise a leg. Connor wailed as she kneed him between his legs, forcing him to move away. But before he could flee in time, his vision flashed as Selah's boot landed on his chin. He crashed on the floor, groaning.
Hissing, the boy shook his head, but forced himself to his feet. Selah did likewise, grabbing her sword and holding it out in front of her. Once Connor had straightened, he unsheathed both his hidden blades. The two stared at each other for several moments before Selah charged first.
She swiped her sword at Connor's chest, but he deflected it with his hidden blade. The Templar followed it up with a kick, but the Assassin stepped out of range just in time, only to knock into one of the chairs. It gave him an idea.
Just as Selah lunged for him again, the Mohawk warrior snatched the wooden chair and swung it around, striking the Templar full force. The piece of furniture broke on impact and the woman cried as sharp splinters dug in her skin. Taking advantage of her weakened state, the Assassin charged, this time tomahawk drawn. He meant to strike the blade down on her, but the Templar's endurance was greater than he thought.
At the last second, Selah was able to bring her arm up to defend herself, using her hidden blade to block Connor's attack. But before the Assassin could use his superior strength to throw her to the floor, Selah twisted her arm to deflect the Mohawk's weapon away, leaving him exposed. Connor leaped back as the Templar swiped her second blade at his chest, hissing as it tore fabric and his skin. Selah kept up the assault, sending one hidden blade iat a time, alternating between stabbing and slicing at her opponent.
Connor leaned out of the way when the woman sent a blade towards his face. The action gave him an opportunity to counterattack. The warrior snatched the Templar's arm and turned around, twisting her limb along with it. Selah let out a cry, but it was cut short as Connor grabbed her collar. With a strained groan, he heaved her over his shoulders and slammed her onto the floor. But before the Assassin could approach his fallen prey, Connor yelped as something slammed into him with enough force to send him to the ground, a weight on top of him.
"Sorry…" Revere whined, awkwardly trying to disentangle himself from the boy.
Annoyed and panicked, Connor tried to shove the man off, only to see a Templar racing towards them, sword drawn. The Assassin tried to fumble for his flintlock, but his arm was stuck beneath him and the floor, and Revere's dead weight didn't help. With another growl, the Mohawk gave the man another shove, freeing his arm. As quickly as he could, Connor pulled out his pistol and fired. The mercenary fell with a thud.
The threat gone, the duo scrambled to their feet, only for Revere to let out a cry as a blur raced towards him. Selah swiped her sword at the rebel's neck, who just raised his own blade just in time. It blocked the attack, but the Templar was already cocking back her arm for another strike. Acting quickly, Connor forced his way between them and twisted, planting a kick to the girl's stomach. Selah stumbled back with a yelp, but stayed on her feet.
The Assassin used his size to make a barrier between the Templar and Revere, glaring defiantly at Selah. The woman only glared back, eyes blazing. With a snarl, she dug her heels in the floor and charged. Connor swiped with his tomahawk at her neck, but the older warrior ducked, slicing out her sword. But because of the poor angle, she could only slice across his leg, but it made the native cry out in pain. He reacted quickly but unsheathing his hidden blade… burying it in Selah's stomach.