Night had fallen on the camp about two hours ago. The night was still humid and sticky, but there was no heat. Henry sat around the fire, separated from the other men and withdrawn, simply watching them as a simple observer. It was amazing how cordial everyone was with each other, how the comradery was clear in every action, every song and every drink shared between a group of men.

His belly was full, though there was still an empty weight that lingered there even after the supper of deer meat he had.

At some point in the night, he lost track of Harrison and Longstreet. He didn't want to risk getting caught snooping around an enemy tent, lest he be accused of being a spy. Henry sighed as he opened up his Bible, his eyes reading the words on the page about the story of the Sermon on the Mount. He was just getting to the part where Jesus was about to multiply the fish and bread for the five-thousand people that attended when he was tapped on the shoulder. He turned towards the figure, and in the dim light of the fire, he made eye contact with a young man, no older than twenty-five.

"General Longstreet wants to see you."

Henry nodded silently, closing his Bible and placing it in a small pouch at his belt as he stood and following the young man through the darkness. It was difficult to not stumble over little ruts or holes on the ground but he couldn't risk using his Eagle Vision. He was brought to Longstreet's personal tent, where said general and Harrison were talking. Henry noticed how tense the general looked, hunched over a table and his fists clenched.

"Damn Stuart," Longstreet muttered. "Leavin' us blind. Without any information or anything."

"General."

The older-looking man glanced up, and Henry nodded in silent greeting. The Assassin noticed the bags underneath Longstreet's eyes, the crows' feet that didn't appear to be laugh lines.

"Evening General." Henry greeted, trying to keep his posture as relaxed as he could. He still needed to make sure that these people believed he was a civilian reporter. They would be looking at everything, from body language to how he spoke.

So far…...Henry believed he was pulling it off.

"Evening, Mr. Williams." Longstreet greeted cordially. "How are you settling?"

Henry took a deep breath, his eyebrows going up in an expression of thinking and trying to figure out a good answer without offending someone. "Okay…. I guess. The food was decent and every one seems cordial enough."

"You're a lucky man." Harrison called from his little corner. "Most men, when they see a Yank, they'll be more willing to shoot him dead than give him some of their jerky."

Longstreet gave Harrison a glare that he couldn't read before turning back towards Henry. "I want you to come with me to meet with General Lee."

It took every ounce of Henry's training and skill to keep his facial expressions neutral.

"Well?"

Henry managed to clear his throat, and focus back on playing his role. "General Lee? Why would he want to speak with me?"

"I want to make him aware of you being here." General Longstreet stated as he gathered some papers. "He's got enough to worry about right now without finding out that we were holding a Yankee reporter."

"Especially with everything regarding General Stuart?" Henry asked. That was the wrong question to ask, seeing how both men tensed and send him furtive glances. He held up his hands and quickly added, "I remember reading something about him."

"Yeah, he just ridin' up north, getting his name up in the paper but he ain't causing nothin' but a lil' fuss." Harrison muttered angerly. Longstreet waved him off, gesturing for another man, this one clean shaven except for a mustache that was neatly combed.

"Major Taylor, Phillip Williams." Longstreet introduced.

"Pleasure."

"Major Taylor is my aide-de-camp. He'll be joining us."

Henry gave the man a curt nod. He hoped he didn't seem like a standoffish northern that was offended by any southerner.

"Do you have a horse, sir?"

"I do, General. I believe it was taken to be stabled."

Longstreet nodded. "Major Taylor, if you will, please go and have someone fetch Mr. Williams's horse."

"Yes sir." The younger man moved off. While Longstreet reclined on his desk, he lit a fat cigar, drawing a couple of puffs inward before expelling it outward.

"What do you know about General Lee, Mr. Williams?"

"If I'm being honest, sir, not much. I did hear that was down with some sort of malady."

"That's one way to put it." Harrison muttered. Longstreet waved him off, a silent but direct order to leave the tent. When he was gone, Longstreet cleared his throat and redirected the conversation back to the focus.

"When we get there, you are to remain silent and only speak when you are spoken to. You will be taken out once we start with our important discussions."

"Yes sir."

Make sure that you keep watch over every step that you make, Henry. He could hear the Mentor say. These men are incredibly tense, looking for each and every reason to blame the North for anything. We don't need any more martyrs made out of the generals of the South.

Longstreet searched his face, as though not believing the words that he was saying. He dismissed it when a private and Major Taylor appeared with Henry's horse. The silver-grey mare whined when he spotted Henry, balking against the young man that held his reins. Henry quickly soothed the stallion, stroking his muzzle and shushing him gently.

"Fiesty fellow, ain't she?" the private muttered.

"Mmmmm, Leeta doesn't like strangers much." Henry said as he took the reins from the young man. He turned to Longstreet. "Should I follow you to the headquarters?"

"Yes." Longstreet gestured for someone to bring him his horse, which he saddled when it came. Henry saddled his as well, and before too long, they were riding through the night. As the two rode in silence as tense as the humidity that hung in the air, Henry's mind raced as face as the horse underneath him. He had an opportunity here, something that no one in the Assassins had, to finish this war once and for all.

Lee was someone that everyone could and would get behind without a moment's thought. There was no one in the Confederacy that came to mind whom the people would unanimously rally behind with as much love as the people did with Lee. Well, there was Stonewall Jackson, but he was collecting worms at the moment. Without Lee, the Confederate Army would crumble.

We don't need any more martyrs. The Mentor's voice rang through his mind. To create martyrs such as Lee would make the Cause of the South that much harder to demolish, for it would be a weapon for the Templars to use to continue this fight for decades, something that the Assassins couldn't afford to do without getting too involved.

Henry pulled on the reins of his horse when they arrived at another encampment, the fire still blazing in some areas of the camp and the shadows of the sentries walking about like wraiths. Longstreet gestured for Henry and the rest of his aides to follow him towards a lone tent that was separated from the rest of camp. He managed to trail well behind the aides-de camp and the general, reminding himself that he was a civilian that wasn't privy to the ins and outs of the life that only a general knew.

He took a deep breath as, after he moved between the aides that had stopped outside the tent, entered after Longstreet.

Before this mission, Henry didn't know what to think about the infamous General Robert E. Lee. He had heard many things from those who had lived in the South all their lives, and who had connections to the southern aristocracy. Many of them describe Robert E. Lee as a man that was the epitome of a gentleman, a man that beheld honor and a vision of a true Christian. In his mind's eye, Henry saw a towering man, an evil man that was involved in the Templars in some way.

"General."

Henry blinked as Longstreet paused, saluting to the only figure in the tent. The Assassin kept himself still, trying to keep the attention off him long enough for him to steel himself from creating a martyr out of a man that was either a puppet of the Templars or a Templar himself.

"General Longstreet. Come in, please."

…. Henry balked a little bit at the voice, soft and yet holding a firm tone. Almost like a father that knew how to coddle his children while also keeping in mind that they needed some discipline. Longstreet moved out of the way, and Henry wasn't sure what to make of the elderly man that was reclining in an old wooden chair. The man had shock white hair, and when he turned towards the two, Henry's breath stopped when he connected with dark eyes that held much sadness, and much heartache and pain, hidden behind spectacles that were perched on his strong nose.

"And who might you be, sir?"

Henry felt as though he wanted to sit down and listen to any wisdom the man had to tell him. It took him a while, much to his embarrassment, to realize that he had been spoken too. His face burned as he stuttered, "Oh, uh, ehem. William, sir, Philip Williams. I am a journalist for the Maine Gazette that's located in Maine. My editor wants to get some statements about a soldier's perspective about the war among the Confederate soldiers. One that would hopefully show the justice and truth behind why you all fight."

Lee's body language didn't change during the explanation, though the edges of his lips tighten a little bit. There was a moment of silence as Lee's eyes darted to Longstreet.

"Very well, Mr. Williams. I hope that you find what you're looking for."

Henry sighed in relief as he nodded.

"Now, if you'll pardon us, General Longstreet and I will need to discuss some matters that require the utmost privacy."

Unsure of what to do, Henry bowed a bit at the waist and left the tent. Although, since most of the aides had scurried off to different places, Henry skirted around the edges of the torches, holding his breath as he strained his ears for the conversation.

"He says the lead element is here with the Third Corps…. the Sixth right behind and supported by a column of federal calvary. There are seven corps all together. The First and Eleventh are above Taneytown. And there's more calvary two hours east. There may be as many as one-hundred-thousand altogether."

Lee was silent before asking, "Do you believe this man? This….Mr. Harrison?"

"No choice. You remember him, sir." Lee glanced up, his brow furrowed so Longstreet supplied, "The actor from Mississippi?"

"An actor?" Lee's voice held disbelief. "We move on the word of an actor?"

"Can't afford not to."

There was a pause as Lee mulled over the words, his thoughts and the situation that he had found himself in. "There would be some word from General Stuart. General Stuart would not leave us blind."

Longstreet didn't comment on that, knowing that he would have some not-so kind words to say about the man that was supposed to be the army's eyes and ears. Instead, he said, "One other thing. Hooker's been replaced. George Meade's the new commander. Harrison read it in the Yankee papers."

Lee hummed as he searched his mind for what he knew about the new commander, his new foe. "George Meade…...Pennsylvania man. Meade would be cautions, I think…it would take him some time to get organized. Perhaps we should move more swiftly. There may be an opportunity here."

Longstreet couldn't agree more. "Yes sir."

"No reason to delay." Lee stood with some difficulty and returned to the map that the two were looking at a moment before. His mind worked through a multitude of scenarios, trying to figure out where would be the best place to mass his army. For a brief moment, he cursed Stuart for leaving them blind in enemy territory. But the feeling passed. In this situation, in this time, one had to put all anger and annoyance aside for greater cause. Even though Stuart's mistake could cost them dearly, Lee prayed that there was a reason.

His attention returned to the map, his finger tracing a junction that his men took. It was like Fate when he stopped his fingers at a certain point. "I think we should concentrate here. All the roads converge, just east of this gap. This junction will be very necessary."

"Yes sir."

Lee squinted, his old eyes having trouble reading the name of a town in the dim light of the lanterns. "I left my spectacles over there. What is the name of this town?"

Longstreet bent over the map, his eyes squinting as well in order to read the word that Lee was pointing at. "Gettysburg."

"Very well." Lee stood straighter, taking in a deep breath as he did so. "Inform your men, General. We will move at first light."

"Yes sir." Longstreet saluted before turning to leave.

"Oh, and General?"

Longstreet turned around.

"Keep an eye on that Mr. Williams."

"Sir?"

"The newspaper man…..there is something a bit strange about him."

"Oh. Yes sir."

Henry stepped back from where he had been, skirting around to the front and plopping down on a stump. The sun was starting to rise, evidence by the fact that, through the trees, he could see the first signs of the sky lighten up. He pretended to be ruminating on something deep when Longstreet and Lee walked out of the tent, both of their language saying that they were tense and tired. He continued to pretend to be absentminded, and listened to the hushed conversation that the two were still having.

"We'll move at sunrise." He heard Lee say. "It's a good time of day. I always do enjoy this time, just before the dawn. When all this is over, I shall miss it very much."

Henry forced himself to stay relaxed, despite what he had heard. Thankfully, it seemed that Longstreet felt the same way.

"Sir?"

"I didn't mean the fighting." There was a pause. "It's all in God's hands now."

"Good day, sir." Longstreet bid.

"Good day to you."

Henry turned around and saw Lee walking off, leaving Longstreet to stare off into the distance. Another soldier walked up to him, a brigadier general from the looks of it. The two men saluted to each other before falling into a relaxed position.

"Should I wake them up sir?"

Longstreet apparently didn't hear the question.

"Should I get them up and get going?"

Henry watched as Longstreet was jolted out of his thoughts, whatever they may be. "Hm? Oh. No Moxley. Let the boys sleep a little longer. They'll be needing it."

"Yes sir."

Henry watched the other man walk off before strolling up to Longstreet. "Sir? Is everything alright?"

There was a glint in Longstreet's eyes, answering Henry's question before his mouth did. "Yes. Everything's fine. We're gonna head back to camp and we're gonna be moving out."

"Of course, General."

Despite everything, the urgency of the mission that now laid before the Confederate Army, Longstreet lingered where he stood. Henry saw the exhaustion that most people probably didn't see, the exhaustion combined with a deep hurt that cut deep down to his heart. Henry didn't know what caused it and he didn't want to pry too deeply, but he was sure it was something that was connected to his personal life.

Longstreet sighed. "Alright. Let's get going."

Henry nodded, following the man as he moved back towards his horse. When they returned to the camp, Longstreet ordered the men up and to break camp. Henry gathered his things, quickly jotting down all that he heard earlier. He wished he had a pigeon that he could use to get Margaret, but she was God-Knows-Where at the moment.

Well, he thought as he stuffed the papers into a false book. If the entire Confederate Army is headed towards Gettysburg, then there will be no doubt that the entire Union Army will catch wind of it pretty soon. Maybe Margaret will be there as well.

"Mr. Williams?" a voice called.

"Coming!" He threw the book into a bag before heading out. The tent collapsed the moment he walked out, two privates getting it all together in practiced heartbeat. Henry mounted his horse a moment later, and, after strapping his bags securely to his saddle, Henry mounted the horse. He pulled the reins towards where General Longstreet was, and with the Confederate Army marching behind them, they rode off towards their destiny.

Whatever that maybe.