Chapter 5: The Thief's Diary

It had been a month since Kira's ordeal, and sufficient time for her to rid herself of the fragility she had somewhat sustained throughout it. It had been a successful few weeks- for her and Connor both. Tax collectors had been stopped, several lives saved, and some less-deserving lives taken away. Granted, there had been no news of the Templars, but Kira viewed this positively- gratefully, even- for they were the last people she wanted on her mind.

She reflected on all that had happened as she sat at a small table in the Golden Oak Inn. The establishment was relatively new, but the owners were welcoming, and she found it was a pleasant enough place to whittle away an evening. Its location had also proved convenient; Connor had asked her to meet him at the docks in an hour, and those were but a short walk from the inn in which she now waited.

It wasn't too late: around eight o'clock, and the inn was already bustling with a variety of people. The air was thick with the sounds of voices and laughter, and the all-too-tempting smell of food, emanating from both the kitchen and the customer's plates. Kira had deliberated getting something for herself, but had done away with the idea in favour of a simple glass of wine.

She sipped at the drink as she pondered over her next mission- the one she was meeting with Connor to discuss. Her friend had been vague with the details, but she knew it involved a criminal who had been posing as a tax collector and collecting citizens' taxes. Kira knew they would be retrieving the money and returning it to the community, but the fate of the thief had yet to be decided. It would be an interesting enough endeavour, still.

She stared down at the table, lost in thought, as she heard footsteps approach. She listened as the opposite chair was dragged backwards, and someone sat upon it, saying nothing. Whoever it was, they were staring intently at her.

She sighed. She was often approached by men- and they could be entertaining enough- but she wasn't in the mood. She looked up across the table, already thinking of something to say to discourage the gentleman, and instead was greeted not by a stranger, but by the very Templar she'd been trying to forget.

"Good evening, Miss Lawrence," Haytham Kenway smiled nonchalantly. His eyes were light with amusement at seeing the surprise on her face.

Kira sat in stunned silence for a moment before realising she must look a fool. She did her best to relax, meeting the man's gaze with as cool a temperament as she could manage. "Mr Kenway," she nodded in greeting, suspicion bleeding into her tone. Her eyes darted to his hands; if he made a move for a weapon, she would have to be ready for it.

Haytham knew the look, and he held up both hands in the air. "Look, I am not here to fight you. I just want to talk."

If he felt threatened by her at all, he made no point of showing it. If anything, he seemed almost entertained by the situation.

Whilst Kira studied his countenance and tried to determine his intentions, Haytham watched her too: quietly looking for some indication of how she might react. He didn't think she would outright attack him- that would be incredibly reckless, and needlessly dramatic- but still, he kept a subtle eye on any movements she made. You never could be too careful.

Kira, meanwhile, was still in the process of deciding what to do. She knew what she was supposed to do: get up and leave, immediately. After all, this was the man her mentor had always warned her about. Achilles had predicted this situation, and had even given her strict instructions that she walk away, now, before doing anything more. But she was intrigued by the Templar; she wanted to see what it was he had to say, and why he desired her involvement in it.

No damage could be done in finding out.

With this in mind, she reluctantly nodded for him to continue, and made a silent apology to her mentor as she did so.

Having been rewarded with the Assassin's attention, Haytham leant forward in his seat, resting his arms on the table before him. "Now," he said earnestly, "it has come to my attention that you and my son seek to stop a criminal by the name of Johnathan Miller. Is this true?"

Kira took a second to realise this was the name of the fraudulent tax collector. "It is," she smiled sweetly. "We have a meticulous plan, believe me. I'd give you the details, but then again-" the expression dropped as she took a sip from her drink- "I just don't want to."

Haytham smiled back, enjoying whatever it was she was trying to achieve. "You don't have to," he lilted. "I have my sources. You don't truly believe you've kept me in the dark for all your inane little schemes, now do you?"

The woman huffed. "If it is so inane, then why are you here, asking about it?"

Haytham faltered briefly, an eyebrow raised in mild surprise. "Excellent question," he conceded, impressed, but wholly undeterred. "You see, Miller keeps his fortune in his home, here in Boston. You wish to reclaim the stolen money, no doubt- and return it to its rightful owners. Apprehend the man, restore justice, fight in the name of liberty-"

"So on and so forth," she interjected, detecting the sarcasm in his tone.

"So on and so forth," he agreed. "It is to be presumed, then- by these provisions- that you plan to infiltrate the man's home?"

"Naturally."

It was a bluff, but Kira wouldn't grant him the pleasure of knowing she was as of yet unaware of Connor's actual plan.

"Wonderful," Haytham remarked. "If that is indeed the case, then truth be told, Miss Lawrence, I am here to ask for your help."

There had never been any doubt as to how the Assassin would react. As soon as the man had spoken the words, a grin had spread across her face, and she laughed shamelessly. "Oh, why of course, Grand Master," she insisted with feigned adulation, "I live to serve. What do you need? Just say the word and it is yours."

Haytham's jaw clenched. "Let's start with some respect," he said darkly, humouring her with a forced smile, which only served to amuse her further. "Failing that-" he sobered- "Miller keeps a journal. A diary, if you will. He keeps it at his home- I want you to find it for me."

Kira's laughter had faded, but she met his gaze keenly. "Why? Is the diary important? What does it contain?"

"I cannot say. It is of the upmost importance that I obtain it, however, or, in this case-" he tipped his head towards her- "you obtain it for me. I can give you my word that the information I seek would pose no threat to the Assassins, nor aid our opposition to your cause."

It was hardly a convincing reassurance, and Kira frowned as she mulled over it. "Your word is worth nothing to me, Mr Kenway," she spoke, crossing her arms. "I'll find your precious diary, but I'd be a fool to give it to you. If it is indeed as important as you say, then I think it best I destroy it."

"No!" Haytham exclaimed in the first genuine display of concern he had shown all evening. "Miss Lawrence," he tried to reason, "Charles would have killed you, that night, if I hadn't stopped him. You owe me your life, let alone a book which is of no consequence to you."

She scoffed. "I owe you nothing. Do not forget that it was you who told Lee of my profession."

"You were going to kill him!" the Templar snarled, his hand striking the table in anger. Realising what he'd done, he visibly composed himself, before looking meaningfully into her eyes. "What choice did you leave me?"

Kira looked back at him curiously, knowing there was truth in his words. She would have killed Charles if she'd had the chance; she would have killed both of them. It seemed an unfortunate coincidence that the two Templars had stumbled upon her home, and if that were the case, it was a miracle that any of them had emerged with their lives.

Across from her, Haytham sat patiently, showing no sign that he had ever acted with any other emotion. A few nearby patrons had turned to watch the pair when he had struck the table, but these had all by now resumed their conversations and affairs, the incident entirely forgotten.

Standing from her chair, Kira made ready to leave for the docks, heart set on arriving unnecessarily early. Haytham watched indifferently, making no move to stop her as she stooped to finish her drink in one swift movement. "If I find the journal," she said, setting her glass down, "I will not destroy it. That being said, I make no promise of bringing it to you."

It was a compromise Haytham would have to settle for. He gave her an appreciative nod. "In that case, I wish you the greatest success in your endeavours."

The woman thanked him in a shallow breath, before striding purposefully towards the door. Around her, customers of the inn went about their usual pursuits: drinking, gambling, and having a generally good time, all noisily oblivious to the harrowing encounter she had just endured. Reaching the door, she cast one last glance back at Haytham before she left- as if to test the reality of what had happened- and he smiled confidently at her as she did so.

Outside, the air was cooling, and darkness had begun to settle. Kira made it a few paces down the street before her eyes landed on a poster on a nearby wall, and she approached it with a soft sigh. It featured a crude likeness of Connor's face- asking for information on the man and his potential whereabouts. She chuckled to herself as she tore it down, tossing it unceremoniously to the floor.

For an Assassin, Connor could be awfully overt in some of his activities. After taking a moment to pull her coat tighter around herself, Kira began the short walk to the docks with the full intention of telling him so.


Author notes:

Hi, everyone. Thanks for taking the time to read my story so far. Please review, follow, or favourite my story, as I appreciate all feedback, and I'd love to hear what you think. :)

Once again, I'm sorry this chapter is so late. A surprise camping trip with no Wi-Fi or laptop made writing and putting this chapter up pretty difficult, as I'm sure you can imagine. I hope you understand. :D

Thanks again,

Kittycat312