November 23, 1862
Just outside Camp Reedville
Henry watched as Sergeant Major Mulcahy, senior member of the Assassins and Irish soldier in the Federal Army, work the men enlisted in the Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts regiment. He shifted on his horse, hoping that no one's eyes wandered over to where he was situated. His sister's letter weighed heavily in his pocket; the words branded into his mind. They were toeing the line in regards to breaking the Creed of the Assassins.
But there was something thrilling and exciting about doing this.
His eyes watched the regiment move about the camp in almost uniformed chaos. The debate the siblings had on the validity of putting every measure of faith on these people, this first ever unit never before seen anywhere in the world, weighed on his mind. He took a deep breath before pulling the reins of his horse away.
Henry hoped his sister's faith was well-placed, for he wasn't quite sure about it. The Southern Confederacy had reacted almost instantly to the news of the formation of the Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts. They would be prepared to fight back with all they had against this force. It made Henry feel a little bit more confidence in the unit, seeing how scared the Templars in control down south were of this example of pure humanity. There was a smile on his face as he imagined the fat-cat plantation owners wringing their hands nervously as they prepared for an uprising of slaves. The smile, however, darkened when he realized that the measurements would make it difficult for the abolitionists still making runs on the Underground Railroad.
The letter written to him by his sister suddenly felt ten-times heavier. She had headed up to Canada where she was talking to Ms. Tubman and hopefully convince her to use her skills to aid the Federal Army. If the tales he heard about Ms. Tubman were true, then she would be more than willing to help out. And then after that….
Henry dismounted from the horse when he arrived at the campsite. There was a sense of worry that continue to build up as he unloaded his things and shoved them in his tent before he started to fix the fire for the night and start supper. The night was rapidly getting colder, the late-autumn air becoming a prelude to the winter that surely going to show itself anytime soon.
With a near-silent FWOOMP, a roaring fire was birthed, the orange and red flames licking at the air. As he sat down with a heavy sigh, he yanked out a piece of dried venison and started to nibble at it, basking in the warmth and light of the fire. When finished, he gently pulled out the letter he received not a few days earlier and unfolded it. His sister's spidery, elegant handwriting greeted his eyes, and in the minimal light of the fire, started to read the words.
Dearest companion, I have made it to the place where our mutual associate of ours is living and we are discussing the terms of agreement should she accept our offer for assistance. So far, the terms of agreement have reached a mutuality and discussions are looking hopeful. After I am finished here, we both have been ordered by the United States Business Guild to ride to Pennsylvania and gain any knowledge about factory movements. More information will be given when we rendezvous in Maryland after I depart. Be ready. Sincerely, your beloved Maggie.
Henry had read and re-read the letter multiple times. But not for understanding, no the code was really simple to understand. It was to clarify that his sister really wanted to go down this road. Getting more and more tangled up in the affairs of the nation was what Altair warned against when he fathered the Assassins into a new era. They did not have the right to lead the world this way or that. They were merely the guardians of the pathway that the fickle goddesses of Fortune and Destiny often travelled on.
But this war had disrupted that road, Henry realized as he pulled out a blank sheet of paper and his travel writing kit. He and his sister needed to temporarily lead Fate down the road that She needed to go down. A dangerous path, a dangerous thing for sure, but something that needed to be done. Henry pulled out his paper, and ink and feathered quill. After a moment of thought, Henry dipped the quill into the ink and started to write.
Dearest friend, I am elated that by the news that you have brought to me. I assure that as soon that I have wrapped up business in Maryland, I will rendezvous with you as soon as possible. What did the President of the Canadian business guild have to say? I hope that he is doing well. Please give him my regards. Yours, Philip.
After reading the short letter, Henry placed the letter to the side to allow the ink to dry. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling the weight of his age. This war was going to be the thing that does him in.
"And here I thought I would be killed in my sleep." He muttered to no one as he started to recline on the little pallet he had with him. Almost as an afterthought, Henry grabbed a hold of the letter, folded it and placed a little wax on the paper. After stamping it with his seal, only known by those few, he laid it to the side, shuffled down and closed his eyes.