When I woke-early though it was, the stars were still out and the sun hadn't made an appearance-, Connor was already up. I greeted him warmly, and he responded with a mere nod. I guessed that was the best I'd get for a while. I could live with it.

We milled about; I read a book I'd taken off a shelf upstairs, and Connor handled some of the finances of the homestead. After becoming bored with the protagonist-who simply kept botching everything he did and was never penalized for it-I put down the book and crept into the room where he scribbled in the large book.

"So… do you handle all of the goings-on, or does Achilles take care of them, too?" I questioned.

Connor didn't look up to answer, though it was clear he was still weary of me from the sound of his voice and the way his muscles had ever so slightly tensed when I'd walked in. Fair enough. He didn't know me very well, after all. "Achilles tends to the transactions made with stores outside of the homestead when I am absent." I peered at the book.

"You have beautiful handwriting. I can barely write legibly with quills." I marveled at how easily he wrote with the oversized feather. His lines were all even, the strokes graceful and unrushed. A stark difference from my blots of ink and wildly inconsistent pressure. Ettiene's lessons had done little to help me transition from pen to quill.

"Thank you." He said absentmindedly. I watched him write for a while, amazed at how easy he made it look-then again, he'd had much more experience with quills than I had, hadn't he? He didn't say anything about my presence, so I assumed he didn't entirely mind my being there. We both looked up when Achilles stopped in front of the doorway.

"Are you two going to stand there gawking at me, or help me make breakfast?" He asked.

Both Connor and I trailed behind the frail old man as he walked to the kitchen. The meal wasn't dissimilar to that which I'd eaten at the inn. It didn't take long to finish cooking it all, to the betterment of everyone's mood.

We all sat down to eat, and Achilles was, once again, the one to initiate conversation.

"You say that you have information. Why don't you start with what is going to happen soonest?" His voice, despite its thinness, held a commanding note. He wanted to let me know who was in charge here, I guessed.

I swallowed a mouthful of bread and meat before I talked, looking at Connor. "There will be business in Boston, starting with the murder of the man in charge of tax collector by Stephane Chapheu-you'll help him. Later, you will be tasked with assisting the Sons of Liberty with dumping a great deal worth of tea into Boston's harbor."

"What would you have me do instead?" Connor asked.

I thought for a moment. If I could get this situation to play out perfectly, then it's possible the beginnings of an alliance could be set before I'd expected. If I returned to Boston before 3 December, it's possible I could have it arranged for William to sacrifice the man. I felt bad for thinking it, but I did want Stephane on the Assassin's side-if peace between the Templars and Assassins was possible, of course. He could be a valuable ally. I decided I would check in at the Green Dragon after the time Haytham'd said he'd return. Three weeks after 6 November was… 27 November. We'd have at least six days to prepare everything, with any luck. And I could easily change my plans if it turned out that the two sides simply couldn't operate together.

"Assist Stephane when he goes after the collector. encourage him to join the Assassins, but try not to make him hate the Templars in the process." Both of them seemed confused by the last clause.

"The Templars are our enemies. Why would we not encourage a recruit to not trust them?" Connor asked.

"Because with any luck, we'll be able to resolve this entire secret war peacefully. And I know the ideas sounds awful to you both, but you have to trust me when I say fighting now is just going to bite everyone in the ass later." I paused. "They've done wrong things in the past, but so have the Assassins." I looked to Achilles pointedly. He narrowed his eyes.

"They seek to buy my people's land for their own use. They want nothing more than the subjugation of those who are not one of them, and the power that entails." Connor replied heatedly.

"And have you even tried to find out what exactly they intend to do with it after buying it? Or have you just listened to the colonists and him?" I gestured to Achilles. "Both have bias against the Templars, whether the former realizes it or not."

Connor still wasn't entirely convinced, but he asked a different question. "Assuming their goals are not as wicked as they have been made out to be, how do you know they would accept any offers of peace with us?"

"Trust me, I have a plan. Even if it doesn't make sense now." I said.

"If you do not trust me to know what plan you have in mind, then we have no reason to work together." Connor said.

"Your father is a Templar. If his journal was anything to go by, he doesn't want to see you die, regardless of your allegiance. You two have the ability to make peace between the Assassins and Templars-you just need to actually work towards it." I replied. I hated being so vague about details, but I still wasn't sure he'd react well to me saying that I was a Templar.

It looked like Connor wanted to say something, but it was Achilles who spoke instead. "And why should we trust Haytham? The man's about as cruel and cold as a person can get, and there's no guarantee that he wouldn't kill Connor, even if he is his son."

I felt myself getting a bit defensive. I'd grown to respect and like Haytham, and hearing Achilles speaking about him like he was just a cold-hearted bastard got my blood hot. "Haytham is both of those things, but he's not a monster like you clearly think. Then again, the last time you two saw each other, circumstances weren't exactly friendly."

My little comment made Achilles' voice raise. "And what would you know about the last time I saw Haytham?"

"Plenty." My mouth kept running despite my head screaming at me to stop. "I don't suppose you've told Connor about the business with the manuscript and the box, have you? Because that'd make the Assassins look just awful." I sneered. I hadn't realized I'd get so heated about this, but I had. Connor looked between us, confused.

"What does she mean?" He asked. Achilles didn't meet his eyes, and instead stood, leaving the room.

"Since she seems to know all about it, why don't you ask her?" He spat. I felt a little bad, but I didn't let it show. My little burst of spitefulness would probably have repercussions later on. Connor was looking at me, brow furrowed and mouth moving. He'd asked something, but I hadn't heard.

I gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"What happened?" He repeated.

I sighed. I guess Achilles really hadn't told him. I felt a pang of guilt. So many people kept things from Connor in his life: Achilles, Haytham, Samuel Adams, Washington, Juno. And now me. Hopefully I could remedy that-later, when I was sure he wouldn't try to kill me upon being told everything. I got up, and jerked my head towards the door. Maybe the cold would clear my head.