So here I am with another chapter. After like I think a couple of months, and I'm suffering from massive writer's block. But oh no, not just for this story but for my others as well. I think college has seriously robbed me of all creativity. I've gotten you guy's private messages on both here and my deviantart. And I'm here to tell you, I'm not doing this on purpose. My goal while in college is to finish up my undergrad in Information Science, and go for my masters in Library Science, before getting a job and becoming a writer/Librarian. So fanfiction is like my own little way of practicing. So bottom line, I'm super excited to write. So like I said before, I am not doing the whole months between submissions on purpose.

So enjoy guys.

Disclaimer: I do not own AC3 Ubisoft does. I do not own their characters, only the ones I personally invented. But wouldn't it be swell if I did. A girl can dream can't she.

Uduak

Silence finally settled over the homestead after a long day of bustle as merchants and theirs ships took port to load cargo onto traveling caravans.

Silence and that stillness that came with sorrow.

I'd given up wearing dresses, I'd given up caring. I wore trousers now, brought from Helen, and shirts designed for men. They were more comfortable anyway. I could see why Myriam preferred to wear them. Hands on my abdomen I sat on the hill atop Achilles's gave, incense burning at my sides, as I watched the sun set in the horizon.

"You tried to warn me," I reaching forward and touching the headstone that displayed Achilles's name. "That it wouldn't be easy." He tried, and like usual I did not listen. Neither of us did. Still if I could turn back time, erase everything. Would I?

"Uduak."

I turned my head slowly to see Connor standing behind me. He looked shorter somehow. Perhaps it was the slump of defeat, the weight of the bad news he was to carry.

"I come here…when I feel like giving up," I said. "To talk to the old man. Somehow it always calms me down. Achilles's spirit no doubt…especially during sunsets." I tapped the space beside where I sat. Connor approached hesitantly before sitting crossed leg beside me.

"Uduak I have no-" he began.

I grabbed his hand and placed it on my abdomen right above my own. He glanced down at the place where our hands sat then up at me bewildered. I almost laughed at his expression. It was the first time I'd seen him so surprised. Surprise was not an emotion that regularly crossed his face.

"Are you hurt?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I am with child…" It felt strange to say it to him. No matter how many times I rehearsed in my head. Embarrassed I did not look at his face, at the expression he made at that moment. "I felt I should tell you before the others did."

"The others?" He asked softly.

"Of course Brianna and Dr. Lyle knew. I think even before I did-but it was Diana that took real note. I propose it because she's had so many herself…she thinks it's a girl. She says because I have retched once, or felt any kind of sickness. I hope this is the case." I felt his hand tense above mine.

"Why would it not be?"

"A lot may happen," I said slowly. "We cannot be certain until-"I cut myself off. I could not tell him of the others, not yet, not now.

"I could not tell," he said.

I turned and frowned at him. "Are you trying to call me fat? Mr. Kenway, is that any way to speak to a lady?"

He shook his head defensively. "No I merely meant..." He shook his head again, apparently at a loss of words to save himself.

"I can barely tell either," I said nudging him with my shoulder. "It's little more than a bump. To anyone without experience, one would think I ate a little too much pigeon pie." I smiled lightly. The mood had lightened, but the sick scent of sorrow was still in the air.

I was to gain one, and yet still was without another. He slid his hand from atop mine to form a fist against his lap. Already he was planning his next move, making promises to himself.

"Do you ever wonder?" I asked. "What life would be like if we'd never met?" It was a strange question, and I could not tell where it came from.

"No," he said without hesitation.

"I do," I said. "Against my own better judgment. I ask myself where you would be. My wolf. Would he be with another? Alone? If we saw each other on the street what would we think?"

He said nothing, just stared at me his brow furrowed.

"Never mind. I'm being quite silly aren't I?"

"I do not wish to think on it," he said finally after a long pause.

"You are right," I said slowly. "Such thoughts are not good for the constitution." I turned back around to face the sinking sun. Soon it would be night, and I would have to face the darkness, touching everything and everyone.

" Connor," I called. He turned swiftly to me.

" We should have names ready," I said grinning, " For both genders I think."

" Names…"

" If it's a girl…well…your mother," I said, " What is your mother's name?"

" My mother?"

" Yes," I said grabbing his arm and shaking it. " Quick, quick. We'll make a game of it. Throwing out names as quickly as we can."

"Kaniehtí:io," he said, " Was my mother's name."

" Right so—" I stopped short. That was the first time…the first time he'd told me his mother's name. "Forgive me I meant no disrespect." I let his arm go. There went my attempt to lightened things up.

" You did not offend me," he said. " If it is a girl, and if it is your wish, we can name her after my mother."

He sounded so sincere, so sure. Why was he always so gentle to me? Did he not realize I'd lied to him so many times, kept so many things from him. It was my fault we were in the predicament we were in now, my fault our son was in the hands of his enemy. I should have pushed him away that day he came for me, told him I did not want him. That Ngozi was not his.

I could not wait to hold him some other time, and now all this.

He was looking at me with such hope. As if I could somehow save him. As if I held the keys to happiness.

I wanted to scream, "Look around you. Look at what all I've done."

"It is cold," Connor said suddenly. His hand came up to brush my cheek, his thumb against my bottom lip. His hand was warm against my face, and suddenly the cold was upon me, quick and merciless. Funny I'd forgotten it before he touched me. But was it not always like that? Had I not known cold before he came along, and filled my days with warmth? I shivered my breath creating a fog against the air. Visible my breath mingled with his, twisting and turn in the air before vanishing completely.

Don't look at me that way...do not bind me so...

Perhaps the cold was the very place I belonged.

I turned my head, removing my face from his grip.

"I am fin-"I started, but he was already on his feet, my hand in his as he pulled me slowly up. I had my bearing well, but he insisted on wrapping an arm around my waist and holding me up. Surprised I almost stumbled, his arm the only thing holding me still. Had I not insisted on walking, he would have no problem carrying me.

A few of the assassins were at the manor as we approached the front door, none of which I recognized. I realized then that Connor had only intended to stay long enough to see me, and give a status update before leaving again. He was not expecting to be burdened with news of my newest pregnancy. I cursed myself inwardly. What if I were to lose this child as well? Unlike Ngozi there was no finding miscarriages.

Using his moment of distraction I slid from his grip. When he tried to reach for me again I dodged his hands. "I should go check on Brianna. If I don't watch her closely she'll try to cook an entire meal by herself. Excuse me."

I retreated inside, past Fenrir who immediately leapt up from his place at the door, and scrambled to leap on me. Had I not dodged him as well, he would have nearly knocked me down. He was nearly a full grown wolf, and had the height and weight to prove it.

Brianna was in the kitchen as I expected, stirring soup. I rounded the corner. The second I did I was grabbed and spun in a half circle.

"Oh Uduak dear."

"Emily?" I gasped.

She pulled back, flecks of tears were in her eyes. "I heard about little Ngozi. Why did you not contact me sooner?" she touched my cheeks ran her fingers through my short hair. "I almost did not recognize you, you look like a boy. What happened to your hair?"

I pulled away from her roaming hands. She frowned.

"I did not want to hinder you," I said.

"Hinder? I am your dearest and closest friend aren't I? To tell me would be no consequence."

"Yes," I said, "But—"

"We must find him. Where is Connor? What is he doing? How about those strange men up front? They look fierce, capable, we should deploy them."

"Connor is doing all he can," I said. "So are they."

"They are obviously not working hard enough. I've sent word to my girls. They are to keep their ears sharp. Poke and pry every man they service for information."

"Emily you didn-"

She waved her hand at me. "Speak nothing of it. Now what do you have so far. Any leads. Locations."

I shook my head. Now that she was asking me I felt that everything that was done had been for not. We were going around in circles. I wiped at my eyes, already feeling the tears coming.

"By the Gods, I don't know what is wrong with me."

"Do not distress." He led me to a chair and made me sit. "Such is natural." She sat down in front of me, and took my hands. "Our children are all we have," Emily said. "The only thing we create almost wholly ourselves. Not to deny, the man's helpful contribution. However small it may be. But at the end of it all, it is we who endure the pain, we who bring forth life." Her hands tightened around mine. Ironic isn't it. Even God himself, as almighty as he is, saw fit to have a woman bare his son. And even she wept at her loss."

Her blue eyes scanned my face, catching my gaze momentarily before looking away as if embarrassed.

"Not to seem queer," she said. "But you would make the most fetching man."

I giggled despite myself, the moment causing the tears to course faster down my cheeks. She reached up and touched my cheek.

"You deserve none of this you know. It is a shame. But such hardships are necessary, even if only to remind us that we're alive."

She sat holding my hands, until Connor came back in. He glanced warily at her, no doubt expecting her to jump up and attempt to kiss him again, before traveling cautiously to where I sat.

"You are leaving again," I said before he could utter the words.

He nodded, yet his gaze was turned from me.

I stood, "What's wrong?"

"There is a ship, we suspect it is carrying more Templars, to station them here. I am to pursue it."

" Is Ngozi on it?" I asked. "Will it give any leads to where he might be?"

"I leave tonight," he said refusing to answer my questions.

"But what of-"

"Your worry should be here." A blunt firm statement, the feeling behind it without cause to hurt, yet my heart lurched in my chest, and anger boiled in my gut. Flushed I pushed past him, walking at a steady pace down the hall and out the front door. No one but Emily chose to follow me. I made it to the front door of my own home before she finally caught up.

"Did I just witness a fight between the two of you?" She sounded strangely intrigued.

"Take me with you," I said.

"Where? To my home? To Boston."

"Anywhere," I said. "This place. It is only serving to suffocate me."

"I don't think…" Emily started.

"He would have me stay here. Pretend nothing is wrong. To wait and watch him leave, day after day. It is sickening. Although I know it is only his way of protecting me. I know he means well…but…"

"Say no more," Emily said taking my hands. "My home is as open to you are yours was to me."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now pack up some things. I do not suppose you will be back after your stay with me. Oh and Uduak."

I paused halfway up the steps. "Do bring a dress. I cannot have you running around Boston's in rags."

Ngozi

"Again."

Pain radiated up Ngozi's arm as he stumbled backwards, struggling to regain his footing.

"Did you not hear me? Again."

Ngozi ran forward, screaming as he lifted the wooden sword. He jabbed forward attempting to hit Isaac in the stomach. Isaac dodged and swung around, striking Ngozi between the shoulder blades with his bare hands. Ngozi fell then, sliding across the hard barren dirt of the training field.

He could taste blood, and he realized he'd bitten his tongue.

Isaac stood above him, still as tall and opposing as the day Ngozi first truly met him. The day after the men told him his father had been killed, Isaac had come to Ngozi personally. To introduce himself, and confirm that he was the one who'd killed his father.

"In time," he'd said. "You will understand why."

Ngozi did not want to understand why. He wanted to go home. Back to the homestead, to his mother and Nela. His father was gone now, as unbelievable as it seemed. Someone had to take care of everyone, to make sure the homestead was safe.

"This is your home now. Obey and all will be well. Disobey and there will be consequences."

"You are angry," Isaac said. "When you should be calm."

He came at Isaac again, this time with his bare hands, shouting as he attempted to punch him.

"Calm," Isaac said dodging, and Ngozi almost stopped, before he remembered the fear he felt, remembered Fenrir curled in the dirt, and anger overtook him again. He charged, intended to head-butt the Isaac in the groin.

Thump.

Pain made him fall. The feel of a form larger than his own on his back kept him down.

"Let me go," he screamed.

"Such anger," Isaac said.

Ngozi scanned the training ground, his eyes falling on the scattered group of men observing the fight with interested eyes. He hated them. He hated them all. His eyes fell to the Isaac's boot next to his ear. Buckled on its end was a knife. With fingers, quick from hunting he grabbed the knife, pulling it from its sheath and turning it, attempting to stab Isaac in the foot.

A hand wrapped around his before he could.

"Good show," someone said behind him. "But I was not aware your lot was in the business of utilizing children."

"This does not concern you," Isaac said.

"No. Well the others will be delighted to hear that. I must admit moral has gone down since we've started this little agreement."

"That is quite enough Isaac."

Isaac's weight shifted off of Ngozi's back. Ngozi coughed, the air returning to his lungs.

"Here." Hands found their way under Ngozi's armpits lifting him up. The touch was foreign and unwanted. His senses returning, Ngozi spun, rage filling him again.

The figure that had touched him came into view then.

Luke…the man from the meeting, the one in his mother's sketchbook. Surprise made him pause. His mother knew this man.

"Do not stop," Luke said. "You are small. Weak. But fast. That puts you at an advantage." He pointed to a spot at his ankle, then his shin, moved up and pointed to his groin and the area around it. "All areas of weakness."

Slumping down quickly Luke swung out catching the ankle of the nearest guard and knocking him down. The man fell with a cry. Not hesitating Luke, still kneeling punched the fallen man square in the jaw knocking him out.

Then standing to his full height he approached Ngozi. When he reached him he out stretched his hand.

"Luke Rhodes."

All at once Ngozi felt his rage evaporate, suddenly forgotten. Luke smiled, and Ngozi was reminded of a cat—no a lion. Perhaps even one of the suave heroes from his books. He felt, he could trust this man, out of all the others.

But he is the brother of Anthony, Ngozi thought his hand tightening into a fist. He had heard that correctly hadn't he. They called each other brothers. Ngozi's eyes drifted to Anthony standing behind Luke. They had the same eyes, cold and blue, piercing like shiny marbles.

"Your name is Peter is it not?" Luke asked grinning. Habitually Ngozi cocked his head slightly to the side, a mannerism he'd adopted from his mother. All at once Luke's face grew serious, his eyebrows furrowed and he frowned. Reaching up he touched Ngozi's face, running his fingers over the overgrown bangs that covered his eyes. Ngozi stiffened but did not move, suddenly frozen.

"Your eyes-"Luke began.

"You fancy children now brother?" Anthony said.

Luke's hand fell from Ngozi's face.

"He has the look," Luke said. "Of a proper solider. A few more years and more suitable training, and he could be useful."

"Quite," Anthony said. "Now if you are finished schooling children, brother, we have yet another meeting."

"Ah," Luke said. "Such is the fruits by which I live. Say, I fancy a quick stop before then, if we can manage it."

"We cannot," Anthony said.

"Not with that attitude dear brother."

Turning his back on Ngozi Luke followed Anthony and the other off the training field leaving Ngozi there frozen beside Isaac.

" All clean," the woman named Rebecca said as she ran her fingers through Ngozi's hair.

He glanced up at her, taking in her soft face, and huge eyes. She grinned at him, as she rubbed his face with the towel. Her touch was loving, gentle, like his mother's had been.

"You did well today," she said as she rubbed salve on his bruises. "I'm sure they are pleased."

He said nothing. His gaze went to the tiny open window, where he could see the open sky, and the birds. Looking at them, flying so free in the sky he thought of his mother, and he wondered if she was worried about him, or had she already forgotten about him? And what about father, had she forgotten about him as well? She was probably sad. So unbearably sad.

" Peter," Rebecca called. Peter that was the name they insisted on calling him now. Telling him his old name was gone, along with his old life. They'd told him to consider Rebecca his new mother now, because she would be the only person to care for him, the only person's whose obligation it was to be kind.

On his second escape attempt, he'd made it halfway across the courtyard before Isaac's hands were around him, dragging him back, kicking and biting back into the estate. Once he was back inside, Rebecca volunteered to take the punishment, blaming herself for his trying to escape once again. Her plea did not go on deaf ears, and Ngozi's punishment was passed onto her.

Nogzi watched, convincing himself he did not care, that she had something to gain by taking the fall. Afterwards she carried him back to his room, tucked him in and sat on a stool beside his bed.

" I hate you," he'd said. " I hate all of you. I hope they kill you next time."

She glanced up smiling, blood on her lip. "Sleep tight little Peter, tomorrow is another day."

She cried the rest of the night, and Ngozi watched her planning his next escape, using his hatred as a catalyst for ideas. This woman was not his mother, and never would be. His mother, his real mother would never hold him hostage, and make him do things he did not want to. But when the next day did come he did not try again. Isaac came, gave Rebecca books, papers, told her to make Ngozi read them, and she endured to do as told.

She read from the books, covering names of men, places, and battles fought, lost and won. There was so much information, so much they wished for him to learn for reasons Ngozi could not understand. This was not his home, on the homestead he learned from Father Timothy and Ms. Hans, but they were kind, even Ms. Hans when she smacked his hands with rulers, he could tell they loved him. But here, they did not love him, so why were they trying to teach him?

After reading to him, they would ask Ngozi questions, test him on the knowledge they thought he should know. He knew the answers, yet refused to answer them. As punishment he went without food, and Rebecca suffered with him, by choice or by force Ngozi could not tell.

"That man?" Ngozi asked. Rebecca's hands paused. She was not used to him asking earnest questions.

"Which man dear?"

"The one named Luke."

She resumed her wiping. "You should focus on your studies, and being good," she said. "Lift your arms."

He did as told. She slipped a nightgown over his head. "That is your mission right now. Now come along, you have a long day tomorrow."

"Is he not important?" Ngozi asked innocently. He got nowhere with being demanding and insistent with Rebecca. Ms. Hans back at the homestead had always told him he'd catch more flies with honey than he would with vinegar. He'd never really understood the saying before, but he did now.

Only he did not want to catch flies, he wanted to kill them.

"Everyone here is important," Rebecca said picking him up and sitting him in bed. She pulled the covers over him. "Even the lowest ranking solider has purpose. Is a key member in the order."

"Then what does he do? Is he in the books?" Ngozi pulled one of the books off the nightstand and pushed it opened. "Show me where?"

"Well. No," Rebecca said hesitantly.

"Then he is not important," Ngozi insisted innocently.

"He is," Rebecca said. "For now. Until we fulfill our goal."

Ngozi nodded. So Luke must have been like him, a prisoner maybe. Only they'd said Ngozi was important, that they could not move forward without him. But they never said why or how.

"Like me?" He said.

"Yes. Only you are very, very important," she said.

" Wh-"

"That's enough questions for tonight," Rebeca said abruptly cutting him off. "Tomorrow is no different. Studies in the morning and afternoon, then training in the evening. Rest little Peter."

Ngozi lay staring into the dark after her departure. Thinking about everything she'd said. There had to be some way out of this place, and he was hoping the man named Luke was the key. Why else would his mother have him her books, if he was not good like father?

Somewhere across the room, a cricket chirped, silent until Rebecca left.

The sound was comforting to Ngozi. It reminded him of his days with his father, hunting in the woods. Bent in the tall grass sometimes for hours at a time, silent, dipping and weaving between cover as they hunted. Ngozi never minded the silence, he was always just happy to have his father near, to know he'd stopped his important work just to spend time with Ngozi. Afterwards, if Ngozi was stumbling and swaying from exhaustion, his father would pick him up and carry him on his back, ignoring Ngozi's protests that he could walk on his own. Ngozi always marveled at how big his father was, even with both hands together Ngozi could never fill the space of even one of his father's shoulders. Yet when he wanted to speak evenly with Ngozi he always bent down to his level, never hovered over him, he always looked Ngozi in the eye and spoke to Ngozi as if he understood everything he was saying.

"Father is gone," he whispered into the air. Despite his best efforts tears filled his eyes, and he started to cry. "And mother will…and mother will…" he couldn't finish that sentence.

Across the room, the cricket fell still, filling the room with empty silence.

Luke

Luke toyed with the food on his plate, pushing it back and forth while the men in front and around him prattled on and on. On and on about matters to which he could care nothing about.

None of them acknowledged Luke and he was happy. After all his being there was only a formality, they did not need him but the man power he supplied. He was a mercenary, one whose loyalty they'd brought.

Luke glanced warily around the room, Sana stood at the door, beside Isaac. While Isaac stood stiff and aware, she leaned against the wall, arms folded, as if examining fruits at market. Luke did not know whether to be insulted or proud at her show of arrogance. Even so, he knew at the first sign of trouble, she would be at his side in a matter of seconds. That was why he'd chosen to bring her above the others.

It is times like this…Luke thought as he flickered a asking glance at Sana, who responded with a quick smirk, that I wonder why you weren't born a man.

The meeting ended with the mutual standing of all six involved parties. Missing his queue on purpose, Luke continued sitting watching the others with mock confusion.

"Stand," Anthony said, obviously embarrassed and annoyed.

Luke stood, smirking, wine glass still in hand he raised it. "To a plan well formed," he said raising his voice above his brother's.

Reluctantly the others raised their own glasses.

Afterwards Sana waited for him in the hall.

"Are our meetings that dreadfully boring?" Luke asked.

"The women help," Sana said. Then added, "The wine too."

"Speaking of women," Luke said suggestively. "And wine."

"Am I to fetch dinner for my master," Sana said a little too eagerly. "A red haired doe perhaps, or do you fancy one of mixed breed tonight."

" Surprise me," Luke said dropping a stack of pounds into her hands. "One for yourself as well, you look a tad haggled. I suppose seeing nothing but men will do that."

"And you?" She asked concern suddenly in her voice.

"What of me?" Luke asked.

She glanced around the hall, her eyes moving warily past the men roaming the hall. "You've not given an order since the den meeting," she whispered. "The others wish to know what we are doing."

Luke shook his head. He had to admit, he'd been a bit short with the others. Among mercenaries, such things were frowned upon, especially for the leaders. "What is there to know, we are doing our job, a job for which we will be paid. Handsomely," he added. " We have discussed this. The others know. They have no complaints besides the identity of our buyers. But that is to be expected. I do believe the problem lies solely with you."

Sana frowned, her girlish face suddenly displaying all her guilt. "I do not understand what you are planning. Outside the deal that is."

"Nor should you," Luke replied firmly. "You know our code. As long as my dealings do not interfere with the profit or well-being of the brothers, then I am free to do as I wish."

"But-"

"I do not question your outside dealings. Nor do I expect you to question mine. It is merely a matter of respect." He made his voice as firm and decisive as possible. It hurt him a little to do so, but it had to be done, the less Sana knew, the less she could mess up in the future. The girl cared a great deal more for him then she should have. True, in a way all mercenary brothers were like real family, but there was always a thin line the crossed kinhood and profit. As a leader Luke was never to cross that line. At least not again, and not with Sana.

"Yes," she said slowly. "Of course." But still she seemed dissatisfied.

" Now," Luke said clearing his throat, and running a hand through his hair, " What was this talk of mixed breeds?"

Luke never did like clear skies and stillness that came with winter nights. Preferring instead rolling clouds full with the threaten of rain, and the slight cover of fog. Perhaps it was the mystery of it all, the surprise at the appearance of that shadow looming in the distance.

It could be death herself, or even her sister, life.

The excitement laid in not knowing.

"Who are you?"

"Well done," Luke said not turning. "I scarcely heard you." He lifted his wine glass to his lips and took a sip.

Scarcely was not quite the right word, he hadn't heard the boy approach at all until he was in proximity. Even outside, among so many fallen sticks and leaves. Such skill was taught not learned, and took time, years at most.

"Who are you?" He repeated.

"Luke," Luke said. "Luke Rhodes. I take it your name is not Peter." He turned to smile at the boy, with what he hope would fill him with reassurance and trust. The boy was not swayed. He stood shoulders pushed back, chest out, legs wide, readying to take whatever Luke said. The stance alone made Luke's long healed shoulder ache.

"Connor Kenway," Luke said aloud. The boy shifted. The movement was quick, almost unnoticeable, but Luke saw it.

So he knows the name…

"Is that your name?" Luke asked. "Connor?"

The boy said nothing.

"How about Uduak? Is that your name?"

"Why are you here?"

" Business of course," Luke said, " Why else?"

"You work for those men?" He gestured to the inside, all lite up. Luke followed his gaze. Suddenly he wondered how the boy had managed to get away from the eyes of his watchers.

"For now yes," Luke said.

"Why?" The boy asked.

A woman arose then, brown of hair, with large eyes. She ran towards the boy skirt in hand, calling his name. He did not turn to acknowledge her.

"My mother," the boy said. "Full of drawings. You-"

The woman grabbed him before he could finish. "Am I to follow you to the bathhouse as well?" She scolded. "Forgive me Mr. Rhodes. He has taken to running if I do not watch him."

"You are his mother?" Luke asked glancing from her to the boy, who stared at him his eyes an unreadable mixture of brown and green.

I know such eyes…I once loved one with such a gaze.

"Yes," the woman replied without hesitation. " He is prone to wild stories. Please do not take to heart anything he says."

"Would not think of it," Luke said. "He was merely telling me of the books he'd read. It would seem he is well versed in his literature. I am only to assume you are to blame."

The woman blushed, "We should be going back inside. It is far too cold out. Come along Peter."

She took his hand and led him away. Still the boy turned and stared. Stared right at Luke with his hazel eyes, his eyes that shouted truth where Luke wanted none, resurfaced hurt that Luke had once buried, and called back an old friend and enemy from the grave.

So for those of you wondering whether or not Luke and Uduak will meet up again. At this point I cannot say for certain. Heck at this point, no one ( not even myself if you can believe it) really knows where Luke or Ngozi is. All we know is that they are both being held in a sense prisoner. Luke not really prisoner, but obligated to go where the Templars want him to go because he struck some kind of deal with them ( I promise I will get back to that later) and Ngozi because well...he's being held hostage. We already know why, they want him to use the bracelet thingy to see into the future, but he doesn't know why, and he thinks his father is dead, so his mission right now is getting home to Uduak.

Uduak who is in fact pregnant.

Will she lose her baby?

I don't know. Should I? Yes I very well should...but writer's block. It seriously makes everything really difficult. I have a clear cut ending in mind, and even the events leading up the ending, but seriously no middle ideas.

And then there's the whole, Connor not knowing about the other lost babies. And that Uduak is keeping secrets from him, while he's out trying to free slaves, wrangle Templars, and save their son, getting hurt and all that jazz. And seriously guys none of this is bound to end happy.

But hey who wants happy. Happy is so overrated right?

And I seriously need to get a hold of a PS4 and unity so I can play the heck out of it. What I'm I saying, I need to get a hold of a copy of Rogue. I have the PS3 to play it, but lack the funds. Story of the poor college kid. Has anyone out there played it? I heard it was really good.

Your feedback is much appreciated.

Until next time.