The biggest adjustment for me was the lack of indoor plumbing. It was time consuming and an inconvenience to have to pump water and haul it inside a bucket at a time when I needed it. What made it worse was the fact that the pump was out back and the closest door was out of order. I spent most of the first day doing as Achilles suggested and familiarizing myself with the manor. Most of the space upstairs was unused. I decided which room I wanted for mine and moved out the extra furniture to the room across the hall. I then sat on each of the couches and tested them for comfort. I liked the one in the library the best. But moving it to the other room was impracticable. I decided to take one from the hallway. It was heavy and difficult to move on my own, but I managed.

After I sat my room up, I began to dust the surfaces in the house. I stayed out of the bedrooms, but found the rest of the house enough of a chore. Once I was done with all that, I wondered around the kitchen. I looked at everything and played out possible meal scenarios until I made a decision. It wasn't time to start cooking yet, so I went outside and walked around the grounds for a bit. It was cold, but the snow had finally stopped falling. I realized that the land was really quite beautiful. I hadn't known that the house was so close to the water. As I walked around the back yard, I noticed the cliff overlooking the sea. It was a pretty view. I stared out at it for a long time, wondering who's ship sat on the water at the small dock and who lived in the shacks along the shoreline. I was getting ready to go back to the house when I heard a voice behind me.

"Aquila."

I turned to look at Connor. He was dressed in different clothes than he had been. He now wore a long white coat with blue trim and a hood that was not pulled up. He had on more modern pants and shirt, but his deerskin leg coverings and shoes were the same. He was also wearing a red sash and belt that I found the emblem of familiar. It was the same as the tattoo I had. As was the symbol adoring the bracer on his left wrist. He had a weapons belt with duel pistols and a tomahawk attached.

"The ship," he explained. "Her name is Aquila."

"Oh," I said. I looked at the ship. "That's Latin for eagle, right?"

Connor nodded, not taking his eyes from the gulf. "She was constructed for use by the Brotherhood to ward off the Templar threat upon the Atlantic. The Aquila served as their flagship for many years, but fell out of service after being damaged during a mission. She remained here until I repaired her and began my captaincy. She still requires some attention to reach her full potential, but I intend to see her at her best soon."

I watched him. We hadn't really talked much but I found myself enjoying his company. He had a pleasant voice and he spoke of the ship as if it was a real person worthy of his respect.

"So, it's your ship?" I asked.

He looked at me with a slightly offended expression. "She is mine," he stated. "A ship is a she."

"Okay," I related with a grin. "She then. She is yours."

He watched me for a moment, the shadow of a smile on his face. I couldn't be certain, but I guessed his age to be close to my own. It seemed young to be owner of a ship and apprentice to an Assassin. I wondered again about his past, but was loath to ask. I doubted his story was one that could be summed up simply. I guessed I would learn more about him in time – if he wanted me to.

"Do you sail a lot?" I asked.

"When I have time," he stated.

There was a note of dissatisfaction in his voice. Sailing was obviously something he enjoyed greatly. It was a feeling I couldn't relate to. I'd never even been on a boat before. I had never been anywhere that required that mode of transportation. Being raised on the busy streets of New York limited my travel options to cabs or buses. I didn't even have a drivers license. I saw no point in learning to drive if it was something I wouldn't have to do.

"Can I ask you something?" I said after a moment.

Connor nodded at me. "Yes."

"How old are you?"

I hadn't intended to ask, but it was bothering me. He spoke and acted much older than he appeared. He gave off the vibe of being wise beyond his years. He wasn't like any of the other guys I had met before. I honestly wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

He looked at me for a few seconds. "I am sixteen," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," I said. "I thought you were older than me."

Connor frowned as though he thought the same thing. "But I am not?" he asked.

"No," I told him. "I'm eighteen."

We stood in a silence watching the horizon for a time. The sun was beginning to get low, the air was growing cooler. I pushed my hands into my pockets and decided to go inside.

"I need to start cooking," I told Connor. "Are you going back in?"

He shook his head. "I need to chop wood."

"Okay," I said. "Well, have fun then."

He gave me skeptical look and frowned. "In what way would work be fun?"

I just shrugged at him. He apparently wasn't that familiar with sarcasm or humor. I wondered if it was his upbringing or just his personality. I hoped everyone in this time wasn't like that.

"It was just an expression," I said.

I left before he could respond. Yet he still had the confused countenance on his face when I looked back before rounding the corner. I gave a thought as to what a strange boy he was as I went into the kitchen and began to fix supper.

Cooking with fire was also an adjustment for me. I hadn't been that great at it to begin with, but I felt like I was learning all over again. In all honesty, the vegetable soup I made the first night was actually pretty good. It may have just been because I was so hungry. However, Connor and Achilles seemed to enjoy it as well. The former had thirds while the latter stopped at only two bowls. I still wonder if the compliments they gave me came more from having someone to serve them than the actual quality of the food. It was a kind gesture either way. I was flattered and went to bed in a good mood.

I don't really remember what I dreamed that night. It was foggy and distant, even before waking. All I can recall is a voice and a name. My name. I can't identify the sound as being either feminine or masculine, but I remember my name being said and waking in a cold panic while it was still dark. I lay there for a while, waiting for my heart to slow, then fell back into a dreamless sleep. The next time I awoke, it was with something other than dreams on my mind.