Chapter 10

17 January 1784 – Davenport Homestead, Massachusetts State

Achilles had been Connor's mentor.

He had trained the young Mohawk, who had turned up at his home, in the way which he had thought was the best. At first, he had been a harsh teacher, driving the grieving and stubborn child to the limits of what he was capable, trying at first to dissuade the boy from continuing with the training and to go back home.

But as he saw the potential in the young Mohawk the training changed into true lessons which, although they now had a focus, they were still just as gruelling.

However, no matter Connor's issues with the method, he had to admit it had been effective.

Years of practise, and hours of training that continued through rain and sleet both during the day and some surprise training during the night were drilled into Connor's head making his observation skills and fighting reactions second nature.

After many scrapes from losing multiple fights to Achilles, bruised knuckles, and some scars, now permanent reminders of his training on his fingers from activating the hidden blade incorrectly, Achilles had finally deemed Connor worthy to be the Assassin that he had approved of.

Connor would always be grateful for what he had been taught and would respect the old man as his mentor.

However, Connor was wise enough to admit that Achilles had his flaws.

He had always been a paranoid man from the day Connor had first met him, he never allowed anyone to become close to him and he was always wary concerning the people around him.

No matter how innocent the people really were, and no matter how long he had known them, the old man had always been on his guard.

These were Connor's thoughts as he poured over the volumes in the library.

He had gone upstairs to the library immediately after leaving the kitchen that morning and hours later he still found himself pouring over the many volumes in there. Both concerned about Achilles' mental state at the time of recording these and impressed by the sheer amount of information that the tomes held within their pages.

Connor was already familiar with a few of these books.

Having been informed that he must learn about the nature of the people he was to protect and fight for, he had spent many hours studying a select few books from the library that Achilles had placed in front of him and instructed him to read.

These were mostly about the accounts of the Assassins who had gone before him, but there were some about the history and philosophy of the world that were now ingrained into his head. Being a foolhardy boy and eager to prove himself to his mentor, Connor had only read the required books and moved on, unaware of the knowledge that the dark oak shelves of the library housed.

That is until now.

Stored across the many shelves were heavy tomes, there was information about every Templar he had come across in the past, the people who were most influential in the Continental Army, the people who supported the loyalist cause, and those who did not.

This was something that Connor had assumed he would find, although it was in greater detail than he had anticipated.

However. The detailed information about every person at the Homestead, was not what he had expected.

It wasn't just the Encyclopaedia of Man that Achilles had requested Connor to make and bring to him all those years ago. It was much more than that.

There was information about where each person had been before coming here and if they would be a threat to the Brotherhood or not. It gave a detailed account in Achilles sharp and neat script about their families, the way they had grown up, their mannerisms, and the things that each individual person liked or feared.

And instructions on how to take them down if they ever became a problem.

Connor had stopped reading these volumes quickly feeling sick to his stomach, both saddened and concerned by the lack of trust the old man displayed throughout the pages for the people he thought they both had considered friends. He put the books in a pile on the floor next to the low table, determined to burn them once as soon as he was able not feeling it was right to keep. He didn't want to breach the privacy of the Homesteaders, if they hadn't already told him this information then they obviously didn't want him to know about it and Connor wanted to respect their privacy.

Sighing Connor turned to the stack of books he had already taken off the shelf, leafing through the pages with some trepidation about what he might find.

To his immense relief he found that these next volumes were more useful than the last ones.

There was information about all the key Templars in this set of volumes. There was information about William Johnson's childhood, and which place he had gotten his education from, to how John Pitcairn's family had lived and which types of injuries he had gained over the years that might make him vulnerable.

Connor had also found even more information about his Father's past in Haytham's tome. Haytham's upbringing and family, that added to the information he had found in his father's journal all those months ago. It spoke about Connor's grandfather and his life in greater detail the Haytham's journal ever had, and in a way that Connor knew that Achilles had met the man at least a few times in the past.

For this he was grateful to Achilles for keeping a strict record, but at the same time he wondered why the old man had decided not to tell him about this history of his family whilst he was alive.

He shook his head, not willing to dwell on circumstances that had already passed and could not be changed, and instead focused again on the task ahead of him.

However, it was not an easy read to get the information he needed about the Templars.

Along with these and detailed accounts, there was also information which Connor deemed unimportant in each of the books.

Connor had to sift through the heavy tomes of the Templars past, such as the way Benedict Arnold had liked to drink his tea and the servants and slaves he had kept on his summer property, and to whom and from Charles Lee had received his hounds, and what their names were. It also had detailed notes about all the women Thomas Hickey had 'met' with during his living years.

Connor had slammed this last book closed and immediately set it aside, quickly moving on to the next volume.

He spent the next few hours this way, studying each Templar and the connections that might have. Many had been mentioned, but after further study they were either already dead, or they had returned to England. He scoured the texts for any mention of Templar involvement in the slave trade in New York, but there was nobody mentioned who could be causing the trouble Dobby had mentioned up in New York.

A soft knocking sound at the open archway broke Connor's concentration and he quickly turned to face the disturbance.

His wife was stood in the archway with a shallow dish in her hands.

"Sorry for disturbing you," She said quietly looking around at the mess of books that were now scattered across the floor before making her way across the room towards him to offer him the dish of food she had brought, carefully sidestepping the books. "But you never came down for any meals."

Connor took the dish from her with a grateful murmur, before looking up at the windows and was surprised to find that the sun was already beginning to set. He hadn't realised it was so late.

"I apologise, I lost track of the time." He gratefully took the bowl and began to eat. His wife looked around the room at the books that were now scattered around.

The pile Connor had originally started on this table had slowly become dishevelled over the hours, and the once few piles had now multiplied to many stacks of tomes on the floor surrounding the low-down table.

She began to pick up some of the books that were near her from the floor and place them in neat piles on the short table, motioning for him to continuing eating as moved to help her.

"Are you looking for something?" She asked smoothing down the pages of a fallen book before she put it down and looked at him.

"I'm trying to find some information." Connor sighed looking at the books, "I thought I might be able to find them in this library."

"Is it to do with your work?"

"In a way, yes."

"Have you managed to find anything yet?"

He shook his head with a quick rueful smile. She put the piles of books in her arms on the bookshelf and paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before speaking with a slight hint a hesitation in her voice.

"Would you like me to help you?"

Connor looked up from his bowl of food to her in surprise.

"You can read in English?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he inwardly winced at how surprised they sounded.

Connor hoped that they hadn't come across as offensive as they sounded to him. But Oni:dä didn't seem to mind as an amused smile flickered across her face, as if she had heard this shocked phrase many times before.

"Better than I can speak it unfortunately." Her hand brushed the spine of the book she was holding before placing it on top of a, now neatly, stacked pile before turning back to him with a smile. "In hindsight it might have been better for me to learn the speak the language rather than read it. I can make sure nobody writes up unfair trade deals with my people, but I can't ask them normal questions or speak to them properly."

Connor let out a short chuckle in amusement. A thought struck him suddenly, he put aside the bowl for a moment and looked back at his wife.

"I could teach you if you'd like." He said seriously, "How to speak the language."

She looked surprised for a moment.

"Do you mean it?"

"Of course. If you don't mind an imperfect teacher who makes many mistakes himself."

"I will accept your offer." She said with a light laugh, and after pausing for a moment she continued, a softer tone than before. "Thank you Ratonhnhaké:ton."

Connor nodded and continued to eat the rest of the food as they slipped into their usual silence. Now that each had said their piece, neither of them knew what to say to the other.

"Would you like me to help you read them?" Oni:dä voice broke through the increasing uncomfortable silence by asking her earlier question again. Connor looked up just in time to watch as she picked up the heavy tome and opening it, began to flick through the pages.

Connor saw the title of the book she held and, with dawning panic realised that the tome she held in her hands was Thomas Hickey's.

In particular, the one with the information about Thomas Hickey's 'escapades'.

In his panic, and in one fluid movement, Connor dropped the bowl down and jumped over the small table, swiftly removing the book from her hands closing it with a sharp snap. His wife looked up at him her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. She looked completely stunned at his sudden movement.

"Thank you for your offer, but this is something I need to do alone."

"I understand." She said, her lowering her hands, Connor noticed she was being careful not to touch anymore books, "I apologise for intruding."

"You weren't intruding, it's just-" He sighed trying to find a way to explain the situation to her without having to mention the book she had just opened, "It doesn't need to concern you."

This answer did not seem to help the situation. He realised a little too late that if anything, his words had made the situation worse. A familiar look of hurt that he had often caused crossed her face before she quickly schooled her features and she didn't look him in the eyes.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton." Her voice was low and steady, but something inside Connor knew that something wasn't right, "I understand already."

Before he could say anything else, she moved past him and through the bookshelf, he noticed a little absentmindedly that she was taking care not to touch him or the books.

"Oni:dä." He called out to her, not knowing what to say but knowing her need to say something.

She stopped and turned to look at him wordlessly, her face still had the same guarded look as before. They stood looking at one another for a short moment as Connor thought about what to say. He moved to the table and picked up the bowl of food she had brought for him, that he had dropped a few moments before.

"Thank you. For the food and for the offer."

Her eyes became softer and she nodded before disappearing back into the dark hallway.

Connor watched the spot she had been for a few more moments after she had left, before sitting back down in the chair by the table with a sigh, drawing a hand across his eyes at his own blunt way of speaking.

He'd insulted her again, and it was becoming an unfortunate, but common occurrence each time they spoke to one another.

Connor shook his head and turned back to the surrounding books, continuing to look through the various notes and journals for any information about the Templars.

But now his mind wandered, more troubled than before.


Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long to update, I have no good excuse this time... Hope you are all enjoying the story and remember to follow/fav. Also leave reviews I love reading all of your reviews(Thanks sasuakesdoom)