Connor and I had followed up on leads on potential allies for three months. With the weather warming, we were able to forgo the inns and simply camp out in the woods, away from the prying eyes of the soldiers who patrolled the roads increasingly often. The last few attempts at recruiting had been unsuccessful, the people we propositioned declining for the sake of their family or business. The red-clad men who marched around the towns would attempt to arrest those who spoke of revolution, and many were afraid of losing what little property they owned to the army.
We were starting to pull at straws for people. With tension rising and tempers flaring, I had confidence we'd find others willing to join up with the Brotherhood - if only thanks to the revolution -, but we would have to be patient and stay sharp.
I'd written a letter to Ippolita, and gotten a reply within the next two weeks, sent to the Homestead. Her provocative nature shined through even in her writing, and I'd found myself giggling like a schoolgirl as I'd read the letter. She'd been ecstatic that I'd contacted her, and had, again, extended the invitation to visit her. I promised myself I would do so if Connor and I were ever nearby New York.
Now it was near the end of July, and Connor was growing more antsy with every passing day. Just that moment, he was pacing around the tiny area we'd settled down in. He claimed he was looking for enemies, but I knew that was a lie.
"Y'know, Con, prowling around like a caged cat isn't going to help anything." I drawled as he passed by me again. How was he not sweating his ass off with how hot it was?
"Perhaps if I were able to pursue Washington, I would be able to relax." He said sharply.
Ah, yes, his favorite subject, these last few weeks. "You know we can't."
"You are the one who is unable to. I am not a Templar, and Haytham's word cannot stop me." He growled.
"Oh, of course not. But it can certainly make you reconsider, can't it?" I shot back.
He whirled around, a hard look in his eye. "The only reason I have waited this long is because I do not wish for the war between our sides to continue."
I snorted. "Yeah, I kinda figured that. It's the same reason I'm doing quite literally everything I do."
He dropped the subject, heaved a heavy sigh, and sat down next to me, our knees touching. "Do you ever have doubts?" He asked after a few tense minutes.
"About what I'm trying to do?" I asked.
He nodded.
I shrugged. "I try not to think about it too hard. I figure it'll just complicate things even more."
"But what if, despite everything you do, it all amounts to nothing? What if it all falls apart? What will you do?" He pressed.
"I… don't know. Really, I'm pretty much throwing everything I've got into this one idea." I admitted.
"What do you think you would do?" He questioned.
I took in a deep breath. "Continue working for the Templars, I suppose." I studied him for a moment. "Would you do any differently if you were in my position?"
He had no response, and we fell into a comfortable silence for a while.
I was dozing off, leaning on Connor despite the heat, when he shook me awake. "Do you have any contacts in Boston?" He asked quietly.
"Why?" I looked at him blearily, confused.
"I wish to see if there are other things we can focus our attention on." He explained. "I am sure some of the others, like Stephane, can take over our current duties."
"I know a few people from my days of being a courier. We can talk about it tomorrow. I'm tired right now." I grumbled, leaning on him once more.
He scoffed. "You should at least fall asleep on the bed rolls." He gently pushed me towards the items in question, a soft smile on his face when I lazily flopped towards them. I huffed as I sat up and removed most of my clothes. It was hot enough that I knew I'd end up sweating even in the shirt and pants I still kept on. It was a damn shame crop-tops were neither common nor acceptable in this time.
For some time after that, I simply lied sprawled out on the bedrolls, dead to the world. Connor crawled in with me, nudging me so he had room to lay down without one of us having a heatstroke halfway through the night.
We did as Connor wished, and for a few months, we aided some of the Templars - and Assassins, few though there were - in Boston. The place was a political battlefield: people starting riots in the streets, berating local and distant politicians alike, writing pamphlets on why the British Crown was unfit to rule over the colonies. Loyalists would join in with soldiers in attempting to put down the especially violent riots. Connor and I had to step in to protect a few Patriotic vigilantes more than once.
We would hear word of skirmishes between the British and the increasingly militant Patriots, of ambushed convoys, of what would otherwise be considered full-out battles between the rebels and the red-coats. The regular correspondence between Haytham and I grew erratic, couriers being more hesitant to carry messages with the danger traveling entailed. They were terrified to end up like the men left to rot on the ground.
More than once, Connor and I would run across such groups of corpses, cold and bloated, hair falling out, nails sunken in, covered in blisters. I'd seen dead bodies, but the discolored, marbled skin on the bodies that had been forgotten in the sun for days or weeks was something new. Holding down my most recent meal was all I could do.
For all the violence going on around us, all the men - British soldiers and militiamen alike - we'd had to kill throughout the summer, we hadn't been called to a battle. The Continental army was well on its way to forming, with men like George Washington, Artemas Ward, and our own Charles Lee taking charge quickly.
It was to my, Connor's, and Haytham's disdain alike, that Washington was still the most likely candidate to become commander in chief thanks to his experience and popularity. Lee would have suited us best, and even Ward would have been preferable. It was looking ever more likely that Washington would become a target.
The letters between Ippolita and I - just as erratic as those between Haytham and I - only did so much to distract me from all the chaos. Sure, the words (she wrote like a poet, and I found myself flustered while reading her rather suggestive letters more than once) were a nice break from the tension present everywhere else, and Ippolita did her best to reassure me about things, but war wasn't something you ignored. Her way with words and her ever-friendly (or as close to "friendly" as "flirty" got) nature always made me smile, but stress still weighed on me from nearly every which way.
I was getting as antsy as Connor at this point. Sure, the various missions we'd be sent on (these days, it involved an awful lot of death, whether it be targeted or simply wiping out a squad of armed men in blue or red to ensure things were a little more even) kept us busy, but we had other things we could be focusing on. I found myself hoping with each letter Haytham sent, I'd be summoned to one of the bigger battles. I was growing tired of waiting, and Connor was damn near the end of his patience.
When finally, finally, early in September one afternoon, Haytham requested my presence at our old haunt, the Green Dragon Tavern, I was eager to get to work. There was just one tiny stipulation…
The words had sounded forced as they'd left my lips when I'd told Connor. "He wants me there alone. You'll have to wait here."
Connor had done a poor job of hiding his clearly negative feelings on the matter. He hadn't put up a fight, but after nearly two years of knowing him, I could read him well enough to know he didn't like it. Maybe it was the fact that we'd spent roughly nine months by each other's side at damn near all times, sharing everything from information to living space. It was odd to go back to keeping secrets for our orders' sakes after that long.
Before I'd left, I'd cautiously hugged him, muttering something forgettable about how I'd be back before he knew it. He'd returned the gesture, uttering something in response about how he didn't want us to be separated for too long.
It hadn't really helped to calm the anxiety in my gut. For all our attempts at peace, we were still on opposing sides at the end of the day. I only hoped this - all of this - would all end well.