Connor woke up to sunlight shining in his face. He grimaced a little and blinked as sleep left him. His body complained about sleeping on the stone floor by aching. As he looked around, Connor realized that he was in the Sacred Cave. As the memories of what happened the last time he was conscious, Connor wondered what the spirit had wanted him to learn. Juno must have been the one who spoke to him as a teenager, setting him on the path to become an Assassin, and later when she spoke to him about his journey not being over. The one who said that his people had fulfilled their usefulness in guarding this cave from destruction.
Why Juno wanted the cave to be protection, Ratonhnhake:ton didn't have a clue. But it was clear that she had wanted him to become an Assassin for her own goals, and not what he had wanted, which was to protect his people from invaders. Connor shook himself mentally. He would keep her words in mind and search for any knowledge he did not currently possess. He wondered if those who had bought his people's land from the continental congress had yet to take down the buildings of his village to set up their own. Checking to see if it was so would only be upsetting and futile.
Worse still, as the colonists had the right to the land bought from the Congress… If they felt that he was threatening them, they had the right to chase him from his ancestral home with weapons. Connor had no desire whatsoever to go through that and decided to head to Homestead.
He would need to contact Faulkner and have his first mate bring The Aquila back home, as he had been transported back to the Colo-… To the United States of America through methods unknown and very swift. Connor noted with a small frown that he was in his Captain of the Aquila outfit, rather than his Assassin's robes, which he had been wearing as he had been assisting the Parisian Brotherhood.
It took him most of the day to get back to Davenport Homestead… Or where the small, but thriving village should have been. Where a road should be, was only a game trail. As Connor drew closer, the buildings and people who should be there were nowhere to be found.
Confusion and growing panic at the thought of those whom he had grown to view was family had vanished, and along with them, all of their things. A cheerful and slightly accented voice called out to him from the bough of a tree in front of him and slightly to the right. "Hello, lad! I have not seen you around here before. You look a bit… Lost."
Connor spotted a strange Assassin dark brown and black robes, lounging against the trunk of the tree. I suppose I am lost. Do you know where I am?"
"Aye, the land around here belongs to Achilles Davenport. He's got a manor deeper into the valley. You looking for him? Or are you out… Hunting?" The strange Assassin responded, watching Connor carefully and curiously.
It took every ounce of his self-control to not react to the name of his dead mentor. All that betrayed his shock was a slight widening of his eyes. "I see. The reason why I am here is… Vague to say the least, and I am uncertain as to whether or not it will make much sense. What… What year is it?" Either this Assassin was playing a cruel trick on him, or between the Spirit's will and whatever power that was contained in the Piece of Eden had brought him back into the past. Whether it was the past of his world or another's, Connor could only guess. Given the fact that the village he had helped to create was missing, it was more likely to be the latter scenario, rather than the former. But why had he been sent back? It made no sense.
"That's an odd question to ask lad, given that you have yet to ask my name. "The other responded with mild amusement.
"Ah, I have been rude. What is your name?" Connor responded, flustering a little. All of this had him forget for a little bit about his manners.
"Shay Cormac. May I have yours?" The Irish Assassin answered cheerfully.
… The only Shay Cormac Connor had heard of in this war, was the commander of the Colo-American Templar fleet, and his father's Enforcer. Between the two of them, they had utterly destroyed the previous Colonial Brotherhood. Not just in the English Colonies, but in the French colonies in America as well. Was this Assassin and the truly feared Assassin Hunter the same person? If so, Connor would be careful. Very, very careful. Not that he wouldn't be careful if he was in the past. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister Cormac. You…" Connor was the name of Achilles' son… Who quite possibly died recently or might still be alive. Then again it was a fairly common Colonial name "You may call me Connor."
"That's a fine name for a man from Wales. I reckon you have another name, but I will not press for it." Cormac responded with a small smile. "I would not mind if you called me Shay"
"As you wish, Shay." Connor responded, nodding a little as he spoke.
A voice called out from further into the valley, pinched with irritation "Shay! Where the hell are you lazing about now! Your help is needed. Something urgent and potentially very dangerous or incredibly useful depending on the full nature of the unexpected development." The voice sounded French and angry.
"Oh shove off, Chevalier! There's a wanderer in the valley and I have been talking to him for a little while. Says his name is Connor." Shay snapped back, scowling in the direction of the voice.
"You must be busy. I had not meant to distract you from what important tasks you must complete. I did not know that this valley was purchased. I shall leave you to your duties and leave this place the way I came." Ratonhnhake:ton responded quietly, starting to head away from the two of them from what he had been able to find out about the previous Brotherhood… They had wandered far from the ideals and what the Creed dictated. Besides to be this close to an Assassins' Headquarters without something to introduce oneself with was to risk death or at least harsh interrogation.
"You probably should. Chevalier is a right pain in the arse at the best of times. What has got him so particularly irritated currently, I have no idea. But I have a bad feeling about how he might react to you now." Shay grumbled, scowling a little.
Connor nodded, taking to the trees so that he would be far less likely to leave tracks. As he left, he heard the French Assassin tell Shay that the ship headed for Lisbon was ready to depart. There was more, but the breeze changed direction and Connor was out of range of listening in on the two of them.
New York was closer than Boston as it was closer of the two cities in relation to Homestead. The other reason was that depending on how far back in the past Connor had gone, it was entirely likely that his father had yet to arrive in the English Colonies, according to the journals. His father tended to stay in Boston as he built up the Templar Rite there. He was able to pick up a newspaper that was fairly recent. The seven years war was under way- not that it was called that now. Connor was at a loss as to what to do.
He could either present himself to the Brotherhood with the Piece of Eden in hand and hope that they would believe his story… Or he could watch and wait. It was very strange to see the Assassin's symbol everywhere set in an orange background. There were… Assassins? In black-green and orange uniforms who gathered and marched around in groups. They were… pushy and demanding of the civilians in a way that ground on Connor's nerves. They acted rather a lot like the red coats did in his time…
Except for the fact that the red coats now actually tried to protect the civilians from those who worked under the orange Assassin Banner. There was only so much that the guards could do. Particularly since these fake Assassins had blades and training of real Assassins. Connor debated with himself what he should do- the last thing he wanted was to change things for the worse, or to attract unwanted attention to himself.
However, a few weeks later when a group of Bandit Assassins targeted the elderly couple who ran the Inn he was staying at, Connor lost it. He found them crowding Cassidy as they held parry in place, laughing and taunting the both of them about something that Connor did not catch. He lunged at the closer two, smacking them into one another and shoving them into the far walls before using a chair to stun the third. The fourth held a knife to Barry's throat, trembling a little in fear and utter confusion. "Who the fuck are you? And why the hell are you interfering in business that isn't yours?! We are a part of the group who really runs this town."
"You are threatening the owners of this Inn. They are kind enough to let me stay here and the two of you are being very rude." Connor remarked mildly, grabbing one of the Bandit's fellows and calmly pressing a blade of his own against the other's throat. "Let him go, leave this place and do not come back. Otherwise, I will find and kill you." Connor calmly threatened. His hands were steady and his eyes cold.
"As… As if you would have the guts to kill him, boy. Run along now- leave that dagger you stole- and all is forgiven." The bandit sneered back. There was a bit of a hitch in the other's voice. A little uncertainty.
Connor drew a thin red line across the Bandit-Assassin's throat. The false Assassin struggled and gasped in fear. Connor threatened quietly, "You will release Mr. Finnegan and all of you will leave this place and never return. If you persist with this, I will kill your companions one by one. I do not enjoy killing, but when I must I do not hesitate. You tremble, even as you hold onto Barry. Let him go and leave them alone, and you will not have bullied a pair of elders into parting with something that they are unable to truly give."
The leader of the group kept staring at him, hands trembling still. His eyes darted to the other two bandits. Both of them were groaning and barely able to sit up. They held their heads, staring around with glassy eyes. "V…very well then. I will let him go and you let my friend go. On the count of three. One… Two… Three."
Connor let go of the bandit, pleasantly surprised that the leader of the group of four did as he said he would. The leader darted towards the most injured of the group. His former captive darted towards the other dazed bandit and they left as quickly as they had appeared.
"Thank you, lad. It was very brave of you to stand up to them like that." Cassidy responded a relieved, if surprised expression appearing on her face. Connor was usually a gentle and calm person, even when he was insulted or others tried to push him around. Not that he let himself be pushed around .the lad had first come to them in a fine outfit and rather heavily armed. They both wondered if, perhaps Connor had been a mercenary, and decided to leave that life for something less bloody.
"Aye, we are grateful for your help, Connor." Barry responded with a small nod, glad to have the help and more determined than ever to have Connor meet Colonel Monro. The younger man was an excellent Hunter, did not shy from dealing with bandits and was an impressive fighter. Connor was well spoken and could read and write, in French, Spanish as well as in English.
Barry vividly remembered the group of Spanish merchants who had been noisily talking to one another a few weeks ago. Neither Barry nor Cassidy spoke more than a handful of words, but Connor had skillfully translated their words back and forth. They had wanted to pay for room and board and did so for another week it had taken for their ships to resupply. The Spanish merchants had paid handsomely, and it had taken only a bit of cajoling for Connor to agree to play translator while they had been in the city. Connor had done the same for a group of French merchants about a month ago. It was remarkable how easily the native had switched between European languages.
He was a very clever young man…. but it begged several questions in both of the Finnegan's minds. Who had taught Connor all of these things, and for what purpose? Why had Connor decided to stay with them? Would however put as much time, effort and coin into training Connor in these skills come looking for him? Was Connor hiding from someone? They did not want to ask, as questions about Connor's past were met with tense silences and anxious fidgeting.
The subject of the boy's parents caused him to flinch and when Cassidy mentions that Connor's father must be proud of such a kind and clever young man… he had dropped what he had been holding at the time as his face tightened into a carefully emotionless mask. Connor had never answered that question. Occasionally Cassidy would hear Connor calling out in a mixture of English and his first language. From the way Connor thrashed, they were nightmares. A particularly bad one dealt with fire and someone named Ista. Rake:ni held dreams of blood and cannon fire. Connor was a very competent and mysterious young man. They hoped to have him meet the Colonel soon, as both Barry and Cassidy were certain that Monro would be able to help Connor fight the demons that were plaguing the kind young man's soul.
