My muscles were sore when I woke, but nonetheless better than they had been prior to getting to sleep. It took a few minutes to force myself out of bed, minding the wound on my left arm.

I examined the appendage once I'd sat up. The doctor had taken care of it, though he'd been unable to do too much for the pain. While it was no longer causing the searing, near-unbearable pain it had turned to when the adrenaline had worn off yesterday, it was more than a little distracting. On the bright side, at least it hadn't been my right arm. Else, Ivanov would have likely won yesterday; I could punch well with my left arm, I couldn't wield a sword terribly well with it.

I looked around the room. The dresser in particular caught my attention. My eyes trailed to the shirt and pants I wore and the coat and waist coat lying on the floor, the left sides of all of them were covered in dried blood. Yeah, those stains wouldn't be coming out easily - not to mention the huge rips in both my shirt and my coat.

I stood and took a second to shake off a wave of dizziness. Blood loss, as it turned out, could make one very lightheaded. Once relatively steady, I crossed the room to the dresser. My hands rummaged through the drawers, holding up shirts and the like to see if they were reasonably close to my size. The brown and yellow clothes I'd gotten so used to would be missed.

I managed to find a clean off-white shirt a size or two too big, a dark grey pair of pants roughly in my size, and a dull green waistcoat. No coat, however. At least the weather was warm. Sure, not wearing a coat was considered "odd," but Iit was unlikely I'd attract any more glances than I already did, parading around in pants and shirts and the like.

I found my way out of the room after I'd gotten dressed. It had to be late afternoon, by the sunlight shining through the windows. My hand fished my watch out of my pocket and it opened with a click. 6:49. It was pressed closed and shoved back into my pocket once more.

I had to find Tommy, figure out what was going on now. Then, I could get back to the inn and back to normal. Or, semi-normal.

An uneasy feeling settled in me as I walked through the halls. Ivanov had said there were more people who disagreed with the work I and Haytham had been working at for the past couple of years now. Was she trying to scare us, or were there really traitors in our midst? Then again, I supposed with her absolute conviction to the idea I wasn't really a Templar, "traitorous" might be a tad subjective. And why hadn't I heard about anyone else?

"Courtney?" Came a voice to my left. I turned to see Ippolita hurrying towards me. Her dark hair was down, and a bright - though worried - smile was on her face. "How do you feel?"

I shrugged. "About as good as I can feel after taking an axe to the arm, I guess."

Her smile faltered, and she walked around me to take hold of my other arm, guiding me through the halls. "Then I would suggest we hurry to talk to the others, ma chèr."

Within moments, we'd left the building, and were on the streets of New York once more. Quick looks to my right and left told me people were either hurrying home or taking their time to get to taverns - it was as though my near-execution had never even happened. My head was pointedly staring downward as we walked towards what appeared to be a tavern, though. The last thing we needed was someone recognizing me and calling the Patriots on us.

A man held the door open for us, flashing a friendly, if flirtatious smile. We both returned the expression, and thanked him as we slipped into the alcohol-scented building. We were in there for all of five seconds before Tommy's loud, distinctive laugh caught my attention. Over near the wall to my left, he was guffawing at something Weeks had said. I walked over, tugging Ippolita with me, to them, and was greeted warmly - if rudely - by my old drinking buddy.

"Well, well, look who decided to join us. Enjoy your nap, girlie?" Tommy slurred, motioning to the only empty chair at the table.

I took a seat. "As a matter of fact, I did. So kind of you to ask, Tommy."

"Then surely, since I'm so nice, you wouldn't mind paying up for my assistance now, right?" He had a shit-eating grin on his face. When my only response was a confused glance, he rolled his eyes. "''You're buying the next three rounds' ring a bell?"

I let out an 'ah' and chuckled. "Right. Well, I'm going to assume it wasn't my money that paid for that doctor, so sure. Next three rounds are on me."

A smile had settled on Weeks' face at our antics, sticking around when he spoke. "So this is the 'Prophet' I've heard so much about, finally fully awake. I introduced myself yesterday, but you were a little… preoccupied, with your wounds and exhaustion and whatnot. I'm Jack Weeks, and I'm thrilled to meet you, Miss Lynn."

"I know a bit about you, too, Master Weeks. I only wish you weren't quite so tight-lipped about yourself. You seem like an interesting man." I responded, happy to have people to talk to.

"I certainly am, but I think you have more important things to focus on." There he went, changing the subject. Not a soul would get a word out of this man if he didn't want them to hear it - myself included.

I supposed we should get to the more important matters. "Ivanov mentioned that there's been some disagreements in the Order." I said, my voice lowered. Who knew who was listening in.

Weeks sighed. "Yes. A number of our own have voiced their passionate opinions as to cooperating with the Brotherhood. Some have gotten violent about it - like Ivanov."

My brow furrowed. "I've been going through correspondence from multiple members of the Order for months now. Why am I only hearing about this now?"

My three companions shared a look. Ippolita was the first to speak. "You mean… you had not heard?"

"Heard what? Of a division among our ranks?" I sat back in my seat, dumbstruck and frustrated at once. How the hell had something like this just… slipped by me? Had Haytham been hiding this from me?

Weeks cleared his throat. "Whatever the case, there is a definite rift among the rite. Some have been trying to contact other branches - all stopped by those who remain loyal to the Grandmaster, luckily."

My head shook. "It's only a matter of time before they get through. Besides, who's to say who we can trust right now?"

A hum came from Weeks. "I'd worked alongside Ivanov before. She was a valuable asset to us, and fiercely loyal to our cause. It's a shame events happened to turn her against us."

Silence fell over us for a moment. Tommy waved over a serving girl, leering at her as he was wont to do, and requested we all be given a round of ale - I was paying, of course.

Once our mugs were set in front of us, I had a thought. "We need to contact the other branches."

Weeks and Ippolita looked at me oddly. Tommy waved at them to reassure them. "She's got an idea, let her talk for a little while and I'm sure we'll all understand."

My eyes rolled at the remark before I started speaking again. "If they're trying to convince the other branches to help them, all we have to do is make sure is they won't be able to get that help, right? What better way than to sway the other branches to our side?" I paused. "I doubt they'll help us just because we ask them in a letter, but maybe if we sent people to try and persuade them, or to simply request they stay out of colonial matters…"

"If we could convince the larger branches to side with us or remain neutral, word might spread to the smaller branches as well." Ippolita murmured.

"It would take quite a bit of coordination. We're spread thin as is, and there's the issue of the other branches of the Brotherhood. Just because those of us- some of us in the colonies are cooperating with the Assassins, does not mean the other branches will want to follow our lead." Weeks warned.

My thoughts led me to Dorian. While we still weren't anything close to friends and we merely tolerated each other, perhaps he'd help us in some small way. He'd been itching to get back to France, in any case, and this would hopefully be as good a reason as any. I glanced at Ippolita. She spoke French, and she'd been there before - not recently, but certainly more than I had. Perhaps the two of them could be sent to try and speak to the French branches.

"I have an idea. I know a French Assassin. Maybe I can convince him to accompany one of our own to France and try to convince both orders there to at least stay out of our business." I offered.

Ippolita's lips pursed. "It is not as though I do much around here right now. I might be able to go - provided, of course, the Grandmaster agrees to it first."

"The last I heard of him, he was at his manor. It's become a bit of a hub of information for us since the start of the war with it's location and all, and he's been at the center of managing it all." Weeks said.

"Well, I guess I know what I'm doing now. Thank you all." I stood, wincing when pain shot up my arm when I pushed my chair in. Ippolita exchanged a worried glance with Weeks, then the latter stood.

"How about I accompany you to where you're staying? I doubt you want to get caught by the guards with a wound like that." His voice was low.

I wanted to decline, but I knew I wouldn't fare very well in a fight at the moment. With a nod from me, I and Weeks started towards the door.

Ippolita's voice halted me for a moment. "Be careful, Courtney. I would like for the next time we meet to be under more favorable circumstances."

I tossed a smile her way. "I'll be fine. And hey, maybe our next meeting will have me bringing news that you'll get to travel for once."

"Hey!" Tommy shouted when I almost turned.

My eyebrow rose in question at his outburst. "You still have two rounds to pay for, girlie."

I rolled my eyes and dug in my pants pocket, placing what I hoped was enough money for the alcohol in his outstretched hand.

Both Tommy and Ippolita had grins on their faces as I turned to follow Weeks.