By the time dawn broke Connor was already up and dressed. His bed was neatly made and morning sun beamed through the windows with a fresh layer of snow that carpeted the landscape. Connor slung his quiver and bow across his chest and attached his tomahawk to his waist. He pulled on his shoes and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. To his somewhat surprise Connor found Achilles in the kitchen with steaming bowls of porridge and a couple slices of toast on the table for the both of them. "I've a horse tacked and ready to go." Achilles said as Connor sat down. "I've also told Mister Faulkner that you won't be helping building the Aquila for a least the next week." The old man sipped his warm drink.

"Thank you." Connor uttered after swallowing a mouthful of hot porridge. "Mister Faulkner said the build will be finished in at least 6 months."

Achilles nodded, "She'll be a fine ship once she's finished."

Connor agreed with a nod. "Yes, it- she will." Achilles chuckled at that.

Once they had finished their breakfast Achilles walked Connor to the stables where the horse waited. "Remember find Mary Baker in the Prancing Pony," Achilles said, "You'd best go straight there."

Connor nodded and mounted his black horse. "I do not know when I will return."

"When you return doesn't matter, getting the job done does." Achilles said.

Connor nodded at the older man. "Good bye, Achilles." Connor nudged his horse's sides and he galloped down the lane. As they rode the snow churned under hoof and soon snowflakes started falling once more. They sparkled against the horse's dark main and dotted on Connor's. He pushed the horse on and made it to Boston in record time.

They arrived just before noon and Connor quickly decided to head to the tavern ahead of time. He left the horse in a nearby stable and hurried into the store before the worst of the snow fell. Connor shook and brushed off the snow which quickly started melting in the warm environment. The Native American looked around at the tavern. In front of him was a bartender of the tavern sitting on a stool in front of a warm fire in the back room. As Connor approached the desk he realised that the place of empty save him and the clerk. Clearly people didn't want to leave the comfort of their warm homes just for a drink or two.

Hearing footsteps the bartender glanced up and quickly jumped to his feet. He reached the desk before Connor. "Hello, young lad. What can I do for ya?" The middle-aged man asked in a thick Irish brogue. His thick brown beard was rough and unkempt and his clothes weren't in better state either. No wonder he stayed close to the fire with such thin clothes.

"I am looking for Mary Baker. She told me to meet her here at noon. I know it-"

"Aye," the man interrupted, "I know the name, she's up the stair waiting for ya. Follow me if ya will." The man gestured for Connor to move to his side of the desk. He obliged and followed the bartender into the fire-lit back room. The man opened the door leading upstairs. "She's up there. Second door on the right."

Connor nodded at the information. "Thank you, sir."

"It's grand that you're 'ere," the man said just as Connor stepped onto the stair, "the young lady really needs help with 'er little problem." Connor nodded again and walked up the stairs. The clerk closed the door behind him and locked it swiftly.

Connor looked around at the place as he walked up the stairs. The wall was nicely painted but it flaked at the bottom. When he reached the top of the stairs warm air wrapped around him and he could smell the burning wood drifting from the second room on the right. The corridor was lined with paintings of the clerk and his family.

Connor now stood in front of the door. He knocked firmly on the wooden door. "Come in." said a voice.

Connor stopped in his tracks. He wasn't expecting the reply to sound British, especially English. He instinctively grabbed his tomahawk and simultaneously reached for the door. He turned the handle and stepped in.

Inside the warm room he saw a girl, the same age as he, sitting in a chair that was too big for her in front of the fire. She wore a wool shawl around her shoulders and a thick brown gown. A wool coat rested on the back of a wooden chair. Her brown hair was tied into a braid. She closed the book she was reading and turned to Connor who had his tomahawk ready.

"You can put that down." She said, holding up her hands defensively. "I'm harmless."

Connor noticed a small scar running from the middle of her bottom lip to her chin. "You are English." Connor uttered not lowering the weapon.

She nodded, "Well noticed," and stood up holding her hands in front of her to show him she was unarmed. "I thought Achilles would send someone... older."

"I could say the same about you. You seem young to be an Assassin."

She laughed at that. "I could say the same about you but I'm an apprentice. My robes are promised to me once I finish this task." She pointed at the tomahawk. "You can put that down."

Connor hesitantly did so. "Mary Baker?"

Mary nodded, "That's me."

Connor looked at her, untrusting. "Are you sure? You signed your letter ES at the bottom."

Mary chuckled and sat back down inviting Connor to do the same. "Ok, you caught me! Mary Baker isn't my real name." She smiled and held out her hand for Connor to shake, "The name's Emilia Spurling."

Connor nodded but declined shaking the hand. "Emilia does not sound like a British name."

Emilia shrugged putting her hand beside her, "It's e-MEEL-yah. I guess it sounds odd because I'm of Spanish heritage so... And you don't need to call me Emilia, call me Millie or Lia."

Connor nodded. "Emilia."

"And you are?"

"Connor."

Emilia raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you sure? You look awfully native for such a name."

Connor sighed, "My real name is Ratonhnhaké:ton."

"Ra...doon-ha-"

"You can call me Connor if it is easier."

Emilia held up a finger, "I got this," she sounded out Ratonhnhaké:ton a couple of times before feeling satisfactory with it "... Ratonhnhaké:ton."

Connor nodded. "You are the first person I have met in a long while that can pronounce my name."

"Really? Well repetition is key for learning native names otherwise you're probably insulting someone's mother."

Connor nodded a little.

"Anyway," Emilia clasped her hands together, "back to the point at hand. You're here to help me with my assassination. Usually I would have my carer to help me with this but he is ill with a high fever and is bedridden. So he's tasked me with killing our target." Emilia stood up. "Now if you'll follow me we'll head to my loggings, Halon's old house, and converse more there."

"Why not stay here?" Connor asked.

"I don't have any of my resources here, and even though it's a nice place it's not exactly safe." Emilia said standing up. "Do you mind-"

The Irish clerk burst into the room cutting off Emilia mid-sentence, "Miss Baker! The redcoats are comin'!"