Bad Blood

The sound of breathing through cold air made him open his eyes. Up above in the cold night sky, the stars shined bright. It was a clear night. The trees around him stripped bare with the ground covered in snow. He stood on weary legs hearing the snow crunch underneath his boots. This place was quiet. It was void of any sound other than his breathing. He looked above, to his left, to his right, nothing but the shadow that was caste by the full moon. He looked down at his robes but when his eyes lingered to his arms the blades were not present.

What was this place, was all he could think of.

He walked with haste for what seemed like hours but he did not grow tired. The snow crunching underneath him but the feeling of clouded darkness was never ending. His eyes began to blur. Echoes of voices whispering in that darkness lead him with a language he did not understand or know. Somehow, he understood where to go in this vast void. His pace has slowed down a bit until he could hear the sound of water.

It all suddenly changed.

Rough waves hit the side of the vessel he seemed to have appeared on. Clouds from a storm roared in the horizon bringing with it winds that were strong enough the tear the masts from the post. Sea water splashed high when a large wave roared through the sea. All around him men ran shouting invisible words to one another. Each held their part. Each had a duty like any other sailor. No! These men were not sailors. These men where not of these times. Taking the wheel on the main deck could Connor see from his place. A man who had strong features and a youthful face, though what made him stick out from the rest of these men where the robes.

Determined eyes looked to the storm coming towards the vessel. The man- the captain- shouted bracing for impact of the storm.

Guardian...

Keeper...

Find it all!

He opened his eyes with sweat rolling down his brow. His bare chest expanding breathing in the air from the open window. The wind blowing gently as he placed his hand on his head. Sitting up on the bed wiping away the sweat, he knew this was the third time this month he had the same dream. Running through the snow covered forest only to be sailing in the sea.

The man he saw in this dream was familiar. Like he had seen this man once before through different eyes , but he felt blood related. There was something pulling Connor. Something eating away at his memories that he knew he did not have. Shaking his head to think clearly, he moved his feet to the ground. Standing now he walked to the open window. The wind was still blowing when he placed his hand on it.

The moon shined bright with the stars blinking in the heavens. They guide people looking for answers. Riddle filled one had to have a sort of second sense to see the answer in the riddle. Since he was younger Connor has always had that sense. He could see things that no one else could. His mother had often talked about Haytham. Nothing good came from it. His sense my have come from the Templar for his mother told a young Connor that Haytham had this sense.

What else do I not know?

The shadows of the trees stayed still. It's leaves moving with the breeze when he saw her figure standing by the cliff looking to the waters as she has always done to clear her mind.

A month since she had to accept the nature of killing a man in war. He knew she could not live with that, but since her mother was her steady hand; Seliah has shown improvement. They both have. Even our stares have lingered longer on each other. How could he also forget? The long coat fitted her form... well. His eyes could not stray away from her still form. She cares. The wind was blowing her long coat to the side. Her arms by her sides twitching every so often. She has lost two fingers, but her hair was growing. She has become stronger like an assassin without their blade.

A pirates daughter wearing the robes to camouflage as an assassin, he thought.

It has been a month since the battle. Two Templar's were dead; along with war also came improvement in Homestead. An inn was being built and a miner has found his home among them to bring in materials from the frontier for more income. In the back of the assassins mind-however-there is more to this war. Something dark. The pirates want Salty Bones for a reason. The Templar's are now more cautious about their whereabouts. They have eyes looking for them.

There is more to be done and I feel we have just scratched the surface. Washington's life may be in danger if we do not find the other Templar. What are they truly planning and with pirates? With Salty Bones?

Two days sail from Homestead- 1776

A strong storm had sailed the merchant vessel way off of it's course. The storm had tore away at the sails and the masts were broken; split in some places. Debris littered the main deck as the sky had quiet down for the time being. Many miles away the storm clouds drifted back into the sea. The thunder echoing off in the distance when no one (not one soul) peered their heads to see if any had survived.

Footsteps addressed the damage that was down to the stolen merchant ship. A heavy sigh from a man who was now the only sole survivor of this vessel. His hair disheveled from its tie that held it back. A beard had formed from the lack of shaving. The men he had recruited many months before were dead or floating above the waters waiting to sink into the dark abyss of the waters.

He had no crew. The ship was in a sorry state. There was nothing for the man to do than to stay in his place.

He chuckled at himself for going through such a powerful storm so late in the season. His task to recruit thieves, vagabonds; any able man to join the crew of Ghost of Davy Jones had all went in vein. Somehow, the storm has made sure the stolen vessel would not make port in New York where he was supposed to be. Hell, he was many days from New York. He was on the wrong side of the water for all of humanity! Captain Gray eye will not be so pleased, but with information on translating the book that was on Salty Bones may change his mind.

...For now.

The voodou people were cautious of the book, but the Bokor made clear that it was truly translated. Gray eye had no time for riddles for Salty Bones had escape. Like any man, the pirate was volunteered to stay on the island. Recruiting was also a side task. Many months had passed with some success since then. The book had coordinates; a location. It also had a name of none other than Edward Kenway: the pirate had something to do with the Ark. Maybe he hid it for safety. Maybe he had knowledge of it.

Somehow, Salty Bones and Edward Kenway are associated with the ancient artifact.

Nothing more to do than drift. He thought looking to the storm now barely visible. His musings lingering off the findings and into what his fate had in store.

"How long has the vessel been drifting in the waters?" Connor asked.

"I would say She has been floating near these waters since yesterday evening. She has not made port nor has any of Her crew been seen." Robert said looking at the vessel through his spyglass.

I sat on one of the barrels on the docks. The wind blowing through my newly acquired long coat giving to me by my mother. The hood fitting perfectly on my head to hide my face. On some occasion I would be mistaken as an assassin, but I held no blades. My sword that was on my belt tapped against the barrel with my eyes looking to the waters. The dark shape of the merchant ship blurred from such a distance. It was not often that a storm-strong as the one sometime ago- would drift a merchant sail towards these waters.

"Do you see what colors She bares?" I asked scratching my nose. Robert kept silent for a moment only to mumble to himself about the identification of the ship. The crew around me waited in anticipation of what their captain was to do with this outsider.

Robert lowered his spyglass after sometime. He was shaking his head. Looking back towards his crew there was a shocked look upon his face.

"She bares color of a flag I have seen once before. She may not be the true vessel, but She flies Ghost of Davy Jones' colors." My blood went cold when I heard those words. My hands clenched into fists; twitching muscles wanting to take immediate action against sea dogs that have haunted my family since my father no longer sailed. Connor payed close attention to my actions. Though he would not speak of it, he knew something was wrong.

"Pirates?"

"What are they doing sailing here?"

"I thought they no longer existed."

The voices of the crew were in sheer disbelief. It disturbed me when I jumped off the barrels. The man has already begun telling his crew to board the Aquila. He wanted to see if there were any survivors from the strong storm. For Connor and myself it was an investigation that needed to be sniffed out. The pirates have kept quiet for sometime now and with one Templar close to being tracked down, it was best that we joined the crew on this investigation.

…

The moment the captain's mind was made we had set sail. It was not as far as I would have hoped for it to be, but I had found that sailing truly was in my blood. I could not hide my smile of pride and feel my heart beat fast against my chest. The years of waiting, the hell I have been through, all that I have seen and have learned were placed in the back of my mind. I had a sense of purpose when the wind blew against my long coat. The spots on my sleeves, the hood of an eagles beak, I was truly a warrior in the eyes of my mother.

I felt at ease in my natural home. One day I will sail, I thought to myself.

The feeling of the sea air against my face was natural. It was as if I have sailed before in a past life. Connor -himself- felt that natural feeling as well. I had seen the look on his face that was focusing on the vessels ride against the waves. Robert had trained him well in the ways of a sailor. Taking command of the wheel the crew-and myself- all had our orders and duties. As captain of the Aquila we made it towards the merchant ship as the sun was lowering in the horizon. A sudden fog has strolled in. We were unaware if this was the opportunity for an attack.

"The quiet is unsettling." I heard Robert say after sometime.

The anchor was set as the ship was just a few meters away. We had to keep a safe distance.

"There seems to be no movement." Connor stated taking his hands off the wheel. His strong sense could not make out any figures in the low fog.

Walking towards the edge of the ship I placed my hands on the wood. My eyes could not keep away from the merchant ship. The closer I looked to the main deck I could not see any signs of life. The ship itself was close to sinking if it were to be attacked again.

"Let me board this ship." I said looking over to the captain and Connor.

Both men stop whatever conversation they were speaking of. Their eyes lingered on me.

"Have you gone mad?!" Robert stated quickly.

"There seems to be no living soul. Connor I know you can see it as well as I. Let me board the ship to investigate. If there is any trouble I can handle my own. I have dealt with pirates once before. Nasty creatures. Give me ten minutes." Time was of the issue as I stated with haste. Though Robert did not trust my idea of investigating on my own (or trust me aboard his ship) I had to have Connor vouch for me in attempts to gain some bit of trust between me and this sailor. Connor knew I was capable of doing anything on my own. He also knew that the colors that blow against the wind could be my answer. A pirate was somewhere on the main deck, the lower deck; even dead. The pirate could give me answers I seek about Gray eye and the whereabouts of my father.

"You have your ten minutes, boy." Robert said with distaste.

With a nod of my head I began my haste towards the merchant ship. Once I had bordered the vessel I could see that She has taken much damage. There was blood on the wood. I could only wonder what had happened to the men when they were going against the strong storm. Where they thrown overboard? Did the captain of this vessel go mad? Many questions formed in my mind as I began to hear movement.

"Oh, my parents taught me well, as I sailed, as I sailed. My parents taught me well, as I sailed. My parents taught me well to shun the gates of Hell. But against them I rebelled, as I sailed, as I sailed." I heard the faint sounds of a man singing.

Walking with cautious steps towards the voice, I found myself at the doors of the captains quarters. Or what was left of it since the ship was wrecked beyond repair. Slowly I opened the doors where little light shined through the cracks and inside was a man. He was sitting with his legs on the table with a bottle in his hand. He was drunk, I thought sniffing the smell of both salt and alcohol.

He noticed me, "I was sick and nigh to death, as I sailed, as I sailed. I was sick and night to death, as I sailed. I was sick and night to death and I vowed with every breath. To walk in wisdom's ways when I sailed, when I sailed."

I walked inside keeping my guard. The pirate was alone- I could only pray. He continued on with his pirate song of famed pirate Captain Kidd. His drunken state made him slur some words when he placed his legs on the ground. My hand twitched with each move he made. Getting up from his seat he walked slowly still singing to the very last sentence.

His eyes lingered on me once again. I could see him looking at me up and down. A stupid grin on his face and lustful eyes. He was close enough for me to push him back if I were to even touch him with my index finger. Drunks were not my favored type of person. I could not handle them with such patience.

"Take a warning now by me, for I must die, for I must die. Take a warning now b me for I must die. Take a warning by me and shun bad company, lest you come to hell with me, for I must die, for I must die." He continued on to the last verse of the song.

I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"State your purpose, pirate." I said after a moments hesitation.

He chuckled taking a swig of the bottle in his hands.

"The sea has no love for me as you can see. The storm has drifted me away here, killing of me fuckin' crew. I look for those like me for fuckin' months and what do I find?" He threw the bottle to the ground shattering it into many big pieces, "I find Salty Bones' child telling me what my fuckin' purpose is?!" He laughed darkly falling to the ground in a drunken state.

"There is something more to what you speak." I said narrowing my eyes on the drunk.

"You be his child down to his temper. Your father is as stubborn as any pack mule. He has went mad and ran from us. You and that assassin are the talk of your enemies. The Templar's are trying to find you both, but they fail. They are too busy with trying to kill the commander in chief to win this piss poor war." The pirate closed his bloodshot stopping his rant.

For a moment I waited for him to move or speak, but he was still. Placing my boot on his shoulder he mumbled something incoherent. I could see his chest rising and falling knowing that the Templar's are plotting to kill General Washington. I know they want to win this war. Maybe the pirates are arming themselves with fleets to attack in the seas. My thoughts made my eyes wander towards the table.

Walking over him I found something rather interesting on the table. A book by the looks of it with its pages torn. Papers were scattered as I grabbed them all feeling the strong feeling once again. Behind me I heard the sounds of other sets of footsteps. My time must have been up. Quickly I placed the book and its contents in my pack and back over my shoulder. Robert and Connor were at the door looking down at the pirate.

"Aye, it is the assassin! You bloody fucks breed." The pirate woke from his drunken slumber to point at Connor with an open eye. "Stay out of the SEA!"

"Shut up you drunken fool!" Robert spat kicking the pirate who spat on his boot in defiance.

"Piss off!" He hiccuped.

"What should we do?" I asked crossing my arms over my chest.

"Bind him by rope. We take him to shore where he will sober himself. It has been such a long time since I had come across his kind."

The pirate sneered like a feral animal. His eyes looking back and forth between us three. Robert turned his back leaving Connor to deal with the man as I made sure I was not missing anything that was of importance. Taking a step towards the pirate, Connor reached down to grab the drunken man by his collar.

"His blood runs through this natives' veins." He said quickly grabbing Connor by the arm. Alert to the action the assassin reacted, but the drunken pirate kicked out his legs aiming for Connor's knees. The pirate rose on his feet and began to run out of the room.

Sounds of alarmed men on the Aquila began to shoot at the pirate, until all we could hear was the sound of something heavy falling into the water.

This was going to be a long day.