Chapter 7: The Dawn

The next few weeks went by in a blur for Alexander. He was called back into action a week after assuring the people he cared about that he hadn't left the world of the living. Eliza and her sisters disapproved but didn't stop him in the end. He supposed that they'd already figured out that telling him to do anything against his morals wouldn't end well. Now, it wasn't that the young revolutionary was prone to violence, in spite of his... less than cool temper; quite the contrary, actually. He didn't like physical fighting; he preferred a verbal battlefield over a war zone any day; however, he wouldn't back down from doing what was right. And if the right thing to do was shed another man's blood, then so be it.

The General, Lafayette, and himself were in the planning tent, finalizing the last-minute details of their battle strategy. In truth, it was mostly Lafayette's plan; he was the ever brilliant tactician among them, but that didn't make it any less incredible. If it worked out as well as it did on paper, then the war and this country were theirs. Yorktown would be their last battle, he was sure of it.

As he and Washington listened to Lafayette explain the layout the troops would be in, Alexander carefully rubbed the metal contraption under his coat and shirt sleeves. Hidden from everyone's eyes was this strange assassin weapon that Connor called the Hidden Blade. He was told that the Templars were still attempting to kill Washington and to use the blade to, well, remove the threat, should it arise. If it came up that he couldn't deal with it on his own, he was told that an assassin would be nearby. He had no way of knowing who it would be, so he didn't bother looking for them.

The meeting was adjourned an hour later and Alexander headed to his tent for the night. He was nearly back when he was pulled between two tents, away from any witnesses. It was as disconcerting as one would expect and he was about to extend the blade when he saw the face of his almost-victim.

"Connor? What are you doing here?"

The assassin was dressed as a common soldier and looked as if he could blend in with the rest of the army. He seemed different from the last Alexander saw him; he looked older now, like he'd been thru a lot since they last saw each other. He couldn't help but wonder about the life of this man outside of his job. He wondered about the other assassins he's meet too, but there was something about Connor that made him seem different from the others. Somehow, he could feel the history that ran under his skin; the history of a family of assassins.

"I came to check on you. Did anyone show themselves?"

"No. General Washington is as safe as ever and our plan is coming along perfectly."

"Good. Then everything is set."

Alexander nodded and looked up towards the stars, "Yes. This will be a new country by year's end. Look around, everyone can feel it. It's exciting. We're making history."

"That we are. I just hope it's a history worth telling."

"What do you mean?"

"... History is written by the victors. I've learned that recently. I wish that the story told here will be one worthy of knowing."

"Ha, I couldn't have said it better myself. ... Well. I'm sure I could, but that's beside the point."

Conner huffed and pat Alexander's shoulder, "Go rest, Alexander. You still have work to do in the morning. A good night's rest will do you well."

The revolutionary chuckled as he walked off, "I'll have a goods night's rest when I'm good and dead, thank you very much."

A faint chuckle made Alexander's steps quicken. A few hours of writing and some light sleep before dawn didn't sound all that bad.

0-0-0-0-0

Dawn came early on September 28 as the assault on Yorktown began. The British weren't much of a match against the strength of the French Navy, the raw determination of the Colonial Army, the combined practical, tactical, brilliance of Lafayette and Alexander, and the secret movements of the Brotherhood. Alexander caught glimpses of members every here and there amidst the battle. A flash of white cloaks hidden under Colonial uniforms, a line of redcoats suddenly mowed down by a few men, and bodies barring similar looking stabs and slashes to the neck and spine. He wasn't worried about the assassins, they were more than capable of handling themselves. He focused on keeping the men he was over together.

The battle of Yorktown lasted for an entire week and it was the longest week of Alexander's life. He felt like he'd never be able to look at a rifle again after all this. He stood at Washington's side as they escorted the redcoats out of Yorktown and that dawn never looked more beautiful.