"Achilles is leaving."

Nathan was jolted awake from the book he was reading as Ratonhnaké:ton patted his shoulder. The young boy groaned and wiped his mouth, pushing aside the story of ancient Assassins. The tale still played on his mind as he snatched the leftovers from his lunch and left the house. Astra barked and yapped as she greeted Nathan at the door.

"Here you are, girl," he tossed the scraps down on the porch.

She scoffed down the food contentedly and Nathan joined Ratonhnhaké:ton and Achilles at the carriage to wish him well.

"Good morning," Achilles nodded to them both as they approached their transport, stepping through the thin coating of snow.

"To you as well," Ratonhnhaké:ton replied, his breath wisps of air. "You taking a trip?"

"I've decided to do something about the house." He sighed. "And you're going to help me. Get in."

As he signalled for the two boys to join him, they exchanged an expression and they did as they were told.

Nathan settled down in the carriage with Ratonhnhaké:ton beside him. As the horse set off at a steady trot, he gazed out of the window, the sights of Lexington passing by as he thought over the book he had been reading.

A story of ancient Assassins, born in Italy and fighting to free themselves from the brutal regime that swarmed the country. A young man and his uncle had done this, marked by the infamous battle of Viana in 1507. The account was written by Claudia Auditore da Firenze, sister to the Master Assassin, Ezio. It was him and his nephew who destroyed the Borgia attack and Nathan could almost picture the scene; the white robes of the Assassins mixing with the dark armour of the Templar forces. Cannon fire bordered the scene, throwing mounds of earth up into the air like ugly fireworks. A woman had died that day to protect her son. The passage held the memory of Elisa Auditore, the mother of Federico's son, who had taken the shot instead of her son, Giovanni.

As Nathan watched the haze of trees outside, he felt that he could understand Giovanni, losing his mother out of her love for him. His aunt had told him how Anne had allowed herself to be burned so severely in an attempt to save her son.

That, Nathan believed, was the purest form of love. A type of love which in a perfect world would never need to be displayed. Sacrifice. To exchange your life for theirs. A mother for a son.

Boston, March 5, 1770

The city of Boston was thriving despite the winter chill. As Ratonhnhaké:ton became curious of the people that passed, Nathan was overwhelmed by the ships at the dockyard. The great hulking masses, formed from wood and canvas, had the ability to fly through the sea and strike at their enemies, engage in battle and transport essential things to survive. He had heard that his grandfather was born on a ship in the West Indes, however believable that was, he imagined it to be true.

"Don't stare," Achilles cut off his trance as he nudged Ratonhnhaké:ton with his cane as the boy's eyes lingered upon one person for too long.

"Sorry," he apologised and lowered his eyes, glancing up occasionally at the new sights.

"Come on," Achilles signalled and the boys followed the old man through the streets of Boston.

"This place is incredible!" Nathan breathed, gazing around.

"The people. The sounds and smells." Ratonhnhaké:ton murmured in agreement. "I could walk these streets for days and know not even half its wonders..."

"I thought the same as you upon a time." Achilles gave a resigned sigh as they passed a small troop of redcoats, each eyeing the three with the same contempt and suspicion. "These days, I much prefer the quiet of the countryside."

"But there is so much life here," he signalled to the fiddle player at the side of the road, grinning as he watched small children skip around one another to the time of his song. "So many opportunities."

"For a few, my boy," Achilles' voice grew quiet. "For a few..."

Nathan felt something brush past his legs and jumped back, seeing a friendly looking tabby cat draw nearer, a purr escaping it like a low rumble. It pushed its head into his calf and brushed past him, its tail waving in the air. The boy knelt down and scratched its head, watching the creature close its eyes and purr, leaning its ear towards the boy's hand.

"Nathan!"

He turned to see his companions much further up the path, giving him an impatient look.

"Sorry," he gave the cat one last pat and rushed over.

"There's a store close to here." Achilles pointed out as the boy rejoined the group. "You're to buy the items on this list. Tell them where the carriage is and they'll see that it's loaded. Understood?"

"Yes." Ratonhnhaké:ton nodded as he took the list, his eyes absently gazing over its contents.

"Good." Achilles grunted, passing him a large purse of money. "You're also going to need a new name. Your skin is fair enough that you might pass for one with Spanish or Italian blood." The old man sighed again. "Better to be thought a Spaniard than a Native. And both are better still than I."

"That's not true," Nathan frowned.

"What's true and what is aren't always the same." Achilles replied.

"What would you call me, then?" Ratonhnhaké:ton asked.

Achilles and Nathan glanced towards each other before the old man decided on the name.

"Connor." He said, baptising the boy in the light snow of Boston. "Yes. That will be your name."

Ratonhnhaké:ton, or rather Connor, gazed up at the sky with new eyes.

"Alright then." Achilles urged him forward with his cane. "Off you go."

As Achilles left them, Connor caught sight of the young boy stare at the new world around him with wide eyes.

"Go and explore," he said, "I'll take care of this."

Nathan grinned and nodded to his friend, taking his leave as he wandered around the town, taking in the bustle that was absent in Lexington. He found himself to fit in fairly well to the crowds, like himself, there were other unaccompanied children that hung about the streets, laughing and playing. He wore what they wore, clothes that his aunt had bought and made for him, unlike those that Connor wore. His skin was as light as Connor's and like Achilles said, he could pass for a European.

"Hey!"

Nathan spun, surprised to see a group of children staring at him.

"Yes?"

"What's your name?" One boy asked, surrounded by two girls and three more boys, all around his age.

"Nathan," he smiled, "what's yours?"

"I'm Christopher," he returned the greeting, "and that's Miles, Freddy, Eric, Bonnie and Susie."

"Hello," Nathan waved and the children waved back.

"Do you want to play?" He asked.

"Okay, what are you playing?"

"Tag!" Christopher grinned and slapped the boy closest to him, Eric, on the shoulder and bolted.

"C'mon!" Bonnie squealed as the children fled the scene with scattered screams of excitement.

Nathan, caught up in the game, raced alongside Christopher, laughing as the boy kept glancing over his shoulder, his face a contortion of panic and joy.

"He's gaining on us!" Christopher yelled.

"This way!" Nathan pointed down a side street and Christopher followed him. The path was tight, forcing the boys to run single file. Nathan, faster than Christopher, took the lead.

He burst out of the other side and halted.

"What have you stopped for-" Christopher began but trailed off, joining Nathan in standing frozen on the main road.

"Ha! Got you!" Eric announced triumphantly, slapping both boys on their shoulders before following their gaze.

All around them was fighting. Redcoats threw men to the ground and chased women screaming down the streets. Men attacked soldiers and wrestled them from their bayonets, yelling threats at the unarmed men.

"What's happened?" Eric breathed.

They were soon joined by the other children, equally in awe of and frightened at the unfolding violence.

"Follow me," Nathan said, "we have to find out what's going on."

"We could get hurt!" Susie squeaked, clutching her skirts.

"We won't," Freddy assured her, "no one hurts kids."

She nodded and in turn followed the new addition to their group, hugging the walls as they kept their eyes on the fighting but staying out of its way.

Soon, a loud voice found their ears. At the top of the steps of what Nathan assumed to be a courthouse, stood another redcoat, waving his arms at the furious crowd.

"I say again: disperse!" He bellowed. Standing before him were more soldiers, armed and urging the civilians back. "Congregating in this manner is forbidden!"

"We're not going anywhere, bug!" Yelled someone from the crowd.

"Oi! Why don't you go back to England?!"

"No good can come of this chaos!" The redcoat continued. "Return to your homes and all will be forgiven!"

"Never!"

"Not until you've answered for your crimes!"

"You're right cowards, pointing guns at unarmed folk!"

"You don't scare us!"

"We ain't afraid!"

"Nathan," Bonnie whispered, "what do we do?"

Nathan's eyes wandered from the redcoat to another man off to the side, conversing with someone significantly below his stature due to their dress. The man, he recognised. He recognised him due to portrait he saw on the wall of the training room every day. He had stared at it and sworn to kill this man for what he had done to his family.

He took a step forward and hand found his shoulder. He glanced up and Connor shook his head. As the man Haytham Kenway was talking to left his side, Connor followed him.

"You'd better stay here," Achilles said, approaching him. "Connor will take care of it."

Nathan said nothing but watched the well dressed man give one last glance to the chaotic crowd before marching away from the scene.

"Who was that, Nathan?" Christopher asked.

"No one," he replied, bitterness lacing his words.