Connor was uncertain as to why Major Pitcairn had decided help him – or at least pretend that he was going to. He made sure to keep a cautious distance between himself and the soldier, keeping watch for any signs that pointed this to be a trap of one kind or another. Connor had seen the forts as he had wandered the city and watched carefully, in case they were heading to one of them. When he saw one of the soldiers' patrols coming, he would hide, waiting for them to get out of sight before returning to Pitcairn, who patiently waited for him to come out, rather than leaving Connor…Or alerting the soldiers that the person they were searching for was close at hand.

On one hand, following this man was probably not the smartest thing to do… On the other, it was not as though Connor had much of a choice. Pitcairn was watching him carefully, and with the barricades and checkpoints set up all over the city, getting out to return to his people… Or to the now empty manor that Achilles had lived in and owned was going to be very difficult. Perhaps the reason why Pitcairn was so confident that Connor would not suddenly run from him was that the soldier could sense that Connor had little choice but to do as he had been asked.

They eventually made their way to a tavern called the Green Dragon. Connor looked at the place with some skepticism. The tavern was in a nicer part of Boston and Connor was uncertain as to whether or not he would be welcomed at this early hour of the morning or at anytime.

Pitcairn noticed his uncertainty, "I know the owners of this tavern well. They are good people, and should be awake at this time. Come along lad." Unlike the first time, the soldier did not attempt to touch him, merely opening the door and gesturing for the exhausted and slightly suspicious teenager to enter. Connor shuffled inside, a sigh of relief escaping him as a wave of warmth washed over him All of the tables were empty- and given that it was barely dawn, Connor was unsurprised by the lack of people. Pitcairn gently guided Connor to a table near the large hearth- the embers were glowing strongly, keeping the room were. The teen yawned, covering his mouth as he did so. As he warmed up, hunger and sleep hit him at the same time. Connor's stomach complained loudly, prompting a small smile from the major.

"I will go ask if they have something for you to eat, Connor. "John murmured, a second smile appearing on his face.

"Mnn? I would be grateful for something to eat. I do have money to pay for it…" Connor managed out through another jaw-cracking yawn. He knew he should be wary of Pitcairn's help and kindness, but Connor could not muster up the energy to feel anything other than grateful for the unexpected but desperately needed assistance. Connor leaned onto the table arms folding on top of the table. He rested his head on his arms. He watched Pitcairn move about the room with one eye. The warmth of the room, and the relative security lulled Connor to sleep.

"Connor? I have a bowl of soup and some bread for you." An unfamiliar voice said, startling the novice Assassin awake.

"… Thank you," Connor answered as the previous day and night's events flashed through his mind. Connor hesitated for a moment, this could be a trap of some kind- but he was ravenous and had very few places he could go. The soup as delicious and the bread was a little dry, but excellent when dipped in the broth. Once he finished eating, Connor asked quietly, "what do you want from me?"

"You needed help and were innocent of the crime you were accused of. Is there any other reason why I should help you?" John countered quietly, "A friend of mine does wish to speak with you, young Assassin. If you were accidentally killed or imprisoned, that would be impossible."

"What is the name of this friend of yours? Why do you call me an Assassin?" Connor asked tensing a little as he realized that he only visible entrance Connor could find, he would have to go around Pitcairn to get to the door.

"Because Achilles Davenport was the mentor of the English Colonial Brotherhood of Assassins before the Brotherhood here was destroyed. The friend of mine who wants to meet you is Haytham Kenway." Pitcairn responded, watching the young Assassin very carefully, curious as to how much Davenport had told the lad, and in what manner the old man had told Connor.

Surprise, confusion and anxiety were the main emotions playing across Connor's face. Followed by intense curiosity and wariness along with a dawning realization. "You… You are a Templar. That is how you know that I was not to blame for what happened last night. I find it curious that you did not defend the actions of Lee, who is a fellow Templar."

"… The grandmaster wanted to have the altercation tonight. But what he did to you, and might have had a hand in, with what happened to your village, he would never have wanted. Even if he did, I would never have condoned such and I would have left the Templar Order if I thought that Grandmaster Kenway would ever consider doing such a thing." Pitcairn answered earnestly, watching the young Assassin carefully. There was no true fear in the other's face or body posture. Nor was there hatred or overt suspicion, beyond what was to be expected… Yet the lad seemed more open to meeting the grandmaster than Pitcairn had been expecting.

Connor fidgeted a little with the talisman his mother had given him. It was a habit that Achilles had been trying to break him of, but touching it helped him to calm down. It reminded him that while his mother was dead and he was far from his loved ones, he would always have part of them with him, no matter how far from home he traveled. It also served as a reminder of the charge given to him by the spirit, to protect his people. "I see. I do not know Haytham Kenway, so I would not make judgments on the sort of person he may or may not be."

"I am curious as to how came by that, Connor was it?" A new voice asked from the stairs, startling both Connor and Pitcairn. They turned to find that the person who had spoken, was Grandmaster Kenway. Kenway had a curiously intense expression on his face as he looked at the pendant that Connor had been fidgeting with.

"I do go by Connor, yes. My mother gave this to me, just before she died." Connor answered, holding onto the pendant more tightly, worry filling him as he wondered if the Templar would try to take it from him. The talisman was the only thing he had left of his mother, and he would fight to keep it.

"I… I gave that to your mother, shortly after we met for the second or third time… If your mother's name is Ziio." Haytham answered back, bright blue eyes wide and over-bright as he moved closer to the two of them, focused almost entirely on Connor. There was a strange intensity to Haytham that John had not been expecting in the least.

Ziio… She had been the woman who had taken his grandmaster's heart and never let go. She had banished him from her presence, but Pitcairn was quite certain that he still loved her. A realization hit him as he refocused on the novice Assassin in front of him. John had noticed that there was something familiar about the boy's nose and chin. The calm self-possession had been familiar as well, but Pitcairn had not put it together until the two of them were in the same room. It made the fact that Davenport had likely chosen the name Connor for young Ratonhnhake:ton, the name of his dead son… For his grandmaster's son deliberately.

"She told white men to call her Ziio. It was easier for them to say, than her full name. Not that we had much contact with them in the village." Connor responded, watching Haytham move closer to him, clearly struggling with something. "Mother told me about you once. She loved you still, and I am certain that her spirit is with you, as much as with me. She said that you lead a very dangerous life, and did not want to put me in danger, which is why she never told you."

The words hit Haytham like a physical blow, causing him to close his eyes before taking in a deep, shaking breath. "I had heard that the British had been burning down any native village that they came across, claiming that they had sided with the French… But I had hoped that Ziio's had escaped the flames."

Connor looked up at his father, quietly marveling at the fact that he had been able to meet the man. He ignored a small voice in the back of his mind that warned him against trusting or listening to the Templar. It had taken Connor months to find Achilles, and he had confirmation from both the old man and the Templars that there were no others Assassins in the colonies. No one left to train him in their ways. Besides… Connor was certain that his mother would not have fallen in love with an evil man, no matter what Achilles had said. "I see. I did not intend to bring such bad news to you."

"It is the fault of those who ordered and carried out those orders. Ziio was unusual in that she left her village for extended periods of time, from what I was able to gather. Why did you choose to do so as well? How did you find yourself in Davenport's company?" His rake:ni asked, trying to understand what had pushed him into becoming an Assassin.

Part of Connor knew that his (dead, and it hurt to think of that, despite the fact that he had known Achilles only a few months) mentor would scold him vociferously for not trying to escape capture, in addition to the fact that Connor found himself truthfully answering his father's queries "Months ago, I went on a spirit journey, and I was contacted by a spirit. She told me that in order to protect my people, I should seek the man who knows of this symbol." Connor paused, drawing the Brotherhood's symbol in the air.

He did not speak of the door-ball thing that allowed him to speak with the spirit, nor the nexus and the place where the spirits rested. For one thing, he sounded mad enough as it was…The other, there might be very good reasons as to why the spirit-woman did not want the Templars to find what his village protected. "She told me to seek training from him. That I would gain the knowledge necessary to protect my people. My people are being pushed and killed and sold into slavery… So I left, seeking the symbol and found Achilles. At first he refused to train me. After bandits attacked and I slew most of them, Achilles decided to train me. He had a painting of you on the wall in a hidden part of the manor. I mentioned to him then that you were my father." Connor finished.

Rake:ni and Pitcairn were both quiet and contemplative. Haytham spoke, choosing his words with great care "I have heard whispers that occasionally one or two Assassins or Templars come into contact with a spirit similar to who you described to me. What the spirits want, and what they were after, were not always the same thing. Usually what the spirits wanted went against what the Templar or Assassin truly wanted to accomplish, and would detrimentally affect what the Assassin or Templar was actually trying to accomplish." Haytham was fairly certain that Connor was not telling him everything about what had happened when he had encountered the spirit, but he would not push. Connor had given him a great deal of information and showed great trust in doing so.

"I… I see. Perhaps she did intend for me to meet you. As I would not have gone to Boston, without Achilles asking me to accompany him here." Connor responded, a bit of hope in his voice as he watched the other carefully. "That is…If… If you…" He could not finish the sentence, suddenly unable to look at either of the other two. The very real possibility of Kenway not wanting anything to do with him occurring to Connor. The Grandmaster's interest in him had likely stemmed from the fact that he had killed one of the other's agents, and had been in the company of the former mentor of the English Colonial Brotherhood.

"I… I would like nothing more than to get to know you, my son." Haytham responded, hesitating for a moment or two before reaching out and lightly touching one of Connor's shoulders, to try and get the other to look at him.

Connor's head jerked up, eyes wide and a large smile appearing on his face. "I… Thank you, father. I would be… Be very happy to get to know you as well!" He was shaking a little, but he did not feel cold. His heart felt too large and shivery as well and Connor wanted very much to give into the impulse to hug his father…But felt that hugging a stranger, even if they were related by blood was… He didn't know what he wanted to do.

Pitcairn made the choice for the both of them by gently pushing Connor towards his father, a knowing look in his eyes. "Go on. There is no one here but the three of us, as of yet and this is a joyful meeting."

They embraced – awkwardly at first, but each held on more tightly when they realized that they had a member of their family with them, and that they might be able to protect the other by staying close. Haytham was determined to raise his son, so long as Connor wanted him to and no one else would be able to separate the two of them, come hell or high water. Connor was very glad to have another member of his family, and hoped that together, they might be able to protect his mother's people.

Years later, Connor stood before the entire English Colonial inner circle, a sense of excitement filling him as his father had hinted that this was happening all week. Still he waited patiently at attention, as his father began the speech.

"Do you swear to uphold the principles of our order and all that for which we stand?" His grandmaster asked, voice calm and commanding.

"I do." Connor answered earnestly. Not everything had gone easily, when they had first started to live and learn about one another. Particularly as three days after he and his father had met, Lee's body had been found. He had truthfully told his father that he had killed Lee, and why he had done so. It had been a point of contention while they had been just getting to know one another, as Lee had been his father's second in command, as well as in an incredibly useful position. Rake:ni had been less angry with him when Connor had explained, and unspeakably disappointed in his old friend that he had been capable of harming a child. Still… It had taken time for the two of them to work through that.

"And never to share our secrets nor divulge the nature of our work?" Haytham asked, as was tradition.

"I do." Connor pledged, nodding a little. He had proved to be equally useful. He had worked with Johnson – though he felt distaste for the high handed land speculator – to work out a treaty with the Iroquois, that through Templar intervention had been held and kept steady for five years. Those who violated the treaty – who were more often than not Colonial – were punished properly and reparations made. Why the spirit had thought him becoming an Assassin would lead to this, Connor did not know. Perhaps she had meant for him to do as she willed, as an Assassin.

"And to do so from now until death – whatever the cost?" His father inquired, face and voice impassive.

"I do." Connor answered earnestly.

"Then we welcome you into the fold, brother. You are a Templar, harbinger of a new world." His father responded, stepping forwards. "May the father of understanding guide us."

Connor, as well as the inner circle answered at the same time as was appropriate "May the father of understanding guide us."

A proud smile appeared on his father's face after the meeting was over and the others left. Haytham handed Connor his Templar ring, still smiling at his son. Words could not express the joy that he felt at the fact that his son was a full Templar.