Chapter One:

The Highlander

Near Maginot Line, Lille, France, 1943

Talks echoed through the underground halls of the Assassin Hideout. Talks about the war, the formations and movements of their enemies the Templars, and the recent confirmations of dead allies whose bodies couldn't be recovered. Most Assassins below were dressed as soldiers of their respective countries or those they were spying on. Indeed, it wasn't uncommon to see a German uniform smuggle themselves out of the hideout and onto the battlefield, but the wearer knew the risks, just as a German-born Assassin wearing a Canadian or even a French uniform knew them.

The remainder of the Assassins below wore either civilian garb or the mysterious, personalized robes of the ancient Brotherhood, each topped with the menacing beaked hood that made Templars shake in their boots or fill them with rage, just as their cross did for the Assassins.

Sitting in the make-shift pub in a corner tucked gingerly away from the rest of the busy tables was a young woman with fiery red-orange hair and blue eyes wearing a light grey overcoat with red lapels. Hidden under the coat and strapped to her thighs were two black handguns of British army-issue. Her trousers were dark and only visible to her knees where long boots covered the majority of her legs. Her shirt was white, and she had covered it with a dark vest whose pocket held her watch-on-chain.

But at that particular moment in the pub, with a tankard of beer on the table and her feet up, the woman was looking at the entrance and trying to scrutinize (with only one eye as most of the right side of her face was wrapped in bandages) the arrival of a fairly late Master Assassin. To emphasize his lateness, she glanced at her pocket watch, took a sip of beer, and resumed her door-watching.

Only five minutes later entered the man she was waiting for: Joseph Hall. He was wearing his British Officer uniform, which was kept clean and immaculate as was taught throughout the military, and had his hat tucked carefully under his arm. He was a handsome man in his mid-thirties with dark hair and eyes, but new to his usually clean-cut ensemble was a small bandage on the left corner of his chin. Something had startled his shaving routine. The woman was gladdened by the sight of an average-sized bag that the officer had in his hand.

Hall noticed the woman in the corner and immediately made for her. Once he reached the table, he set his hat on it and the bag on the floor and took his seat with her. Her only movements were to take her feet off the table, which she could tell Hall appreciated more than he'd ever say.

"It's good to see you again, Mary," he said, his hand extending towards her. "Almost like old times, isn't it?"

Mary didn't hesitate to clasp Hall's hand in hers and give it a good shake. She grinned broadly at the man. "Aye, though I dannae remember all these Templars running around like they own the place! A beer, Hall?"

"Whiskey, please. Straight."

Mary rose to get the alcohol from the bar and shortly returned with a glass of straight whiskey. Hall was, of course, from London, and he'd joined the Assassins there. With all available Assassins gathered to fight and all the Mentors keeping safe from the recent events, Joseph Hall was made de facto Mentor of the Assassins while at the front. This, understandably, presented great pressure onto him. He was a Master Assassin capable of many things, but perhaps his loyalties to his country and his duty to the Assassins would eventually tire him before his time. Still, Mary had faith in him. She knew him well.

Mary handed Hall the glass and returned to her own beer. She took a quick chug and then grinned again at Hall. "Och, the beer's warm. Ye took too long, Hall."

"My apologies. I was delayed by my superiors and by the ridiculous favour you asked of me. Speaking of..." Hall reached for the bag and placed it on the table in front of the now-seated Mary. "There you are. You're sure this is what you want for the debt I owe?"

"Hall, I saved yer hide a while back. If it were me I wouldnae even have asked, but I know ye like tae have yer debts paid. And this'll be more helpful than a yocker!"

"A what?"

"A large stone, Hall. Still throwable." Mary opened the bag and removed a belt to go around her waist. Almost immediately she fastened it, removed the thigh-straps where her guns were situated, and transferred the holsters to her new belt. "Och, aye, this is magic!"

"Glad you like it, Mary." Hall finally smiled at her, then took a sip of his whiskey and his face was all business again. "Well then, it's time we talk about your new assignment."

"Aye." Mary sat across from him, her face the very picture of seriousness. "Who's this wee lass ye spoke of in yer letter?"

"Katherine Prince, a young American Assassin. By no means a Master Assassin, actually. Her brothers, however, were nearly there."

"Brothers?"

Hall nodded solemnly. "Nathaniel and Henry Prince. They were killed in action three years ago while trying to find leads on possible Pieces of Eden the Templars may have."

"If yer laddies were near their mastery, someone of better skill targeted them."

"Indeed. Whomever killed them had a magnitude of weaponry and skill to kill them head-on. Although, from the evidence we gathered three years ago, a sneak attack was certainly attempted."

"By?"

"The brothers Prince. It failed, obviously."

"So about the lass?"

"Katherine has since been working hard in the American branch of Assassins to be sent here and avenge the deaths of her brothers."

Mary scoffed at that. "How? By winning the damn war all by her radge self?"

"She intends to find the one who killed her brothers." Hall hooked a finger at his collar, though Mary noticed no perspiration or redness upon him. "We... also discovered that your particular incident was connected with this."

Mary, almost automatically, reached one of her hands up and touched the bandage on her face. "How?" she asked a bit quietly.

Hall, of course, knew Mary to be a woman of action, not of remorse. But he understood her nearly instant change in demeanour and continued solemnly, "The one who killed Nathaniel and Henry was also the one who recently struck at Edinburgh."

"Och... aye..." Mary had hardly given her home's name a thought before she was focusing all her attention on Hall again. "So this Prince wants tae kill the Assassin-hunter?"

"Correct. And she needs guidance. I know your connection and want you to spearhead this witch-hunt for the hunter, because I know you'll take into consideration their skills and the dangers. If Katherine Prince was allowed to do this alone she'd follow her brothers in death, and nothing would be gained from this." Hall paused. "I know some people have been considering you something of a spiritual successor—."

"Hall," interrupted the woman, "I'll take care of Prince and try tae kill the Assassin-hunter, but dannae mention tae that quine any of that. Nothing. Ye understand?"

The man nodded, finished his whiskey and grabbed his hat. Then he stood.

"She's here now," Hall stated. "Would you follow me? She's fairly eager to begin."

"I cannae wait." Mary finished her beer in a single and fairly impressive gulp, to which Hall raised an eyebrow. But she rolled her eyes at him. "Dannae worry. I'm not blootered."

"I'll take your word for it."

Hall led Mary through the underground base until they reached a small office that served as Hall's headquarters. His desk was piled high with papers—reports of enemy movements, no doubt—and his normally clean floor was strewn with battle reports. Leaning against one of the two chairs facing the desk was a young woman with lightly-coloured brown hair and equally light eyes. Her white hood was lowered and resting on the back of her brown overcoat, which extended into pronged coattails behind her. Her hood was connected to a coat with buttons on either side of her chest trailing down to her abdomen, which was no doubt an heirloom of the Great War, and made to fit her after the use of a male counterpart. Her father's, Mary guessed. Her trousers were a dark olive colour and extended into leather gaiters that covered black shoes that were worn from training, which was typical of climbing brick buildings.

Mary, of course, noticed that Katherine's eyes were examining her, also, and she didn't seem certain of what she was seeing. Unlike Hall, her eyes lingered on the bandages on Mary's face, but when she saw Mary didn't look away—it was the young Katherine who did from the eye contact.

"Miss Katherine Prince," said Hall as he gestured to Mary, "this is going to be your partner for the duration of your stay in Europe and otherwise."

Mary extended her arm, and Katherine met her halfway. The older woman noted the slight bulge under Katherine's coat on her right bicep. She was wearing something underneath that wasn't exactly subtle. "Mary MacKenzie of Edinburgh," the Highlander offered.

"Katherine Prince of Bradford, Pennsylvania." And then the pleasantries were done. Katherine turned to Hall. "I thought I'd be pursuing the Assassin-hunter myself."

Hall, always the voice of reason, chided, "The Assassin-hunter has killed a fair amount of Assassins. We absolutely must keep two or more Assassins together at all times now, whenever we're pursuing our own ends rather than trying to keep Churchill in line with a voice of reason."

"Churchill's a puppet of the Templars," stated Katherine. "He's got Templar reasoning."

"Aye, but there's always a politician searching for some other way of gaining power and favour. After this war, Churchill will be looking for favour with his people, not the power Templars are offering." Mary's interjection brought Katherine's attention back onto her. "We need tae find the root of the problem."

"The only problem I'm here to solve is the one this murderer has posed." Katherine stood. "If you're to be my partner, I suggest we get on the same page."

"Och, aye, I agree very much, Miss Prince," said the Highlander, "but I doubt ye'll like the page I want tae stay on and I have my doubts ye'll want tae jump ship from yer own, lassie."

"You're correct, Miss MacKenzie."

"Just Mary, if ye will."

Hall had already crossed the room and sat heavily behind his desk. His hat was sitting atop a pile of papers and telegrams. "Miss Prince, this is the situation: Mary is your partner, but she will be in charge of all operations regarding the Assassin-hunter. Every mission is hers to decide as well as the best time to strike. She is not training you nor is she seeking to, but you'll very much be like an understudy to her. Her orders are commands and you will follow them without question. Are we clear?"

It appeared it was not. "You expect me to be an understudy for a mission I've been requesting for years?!"

"Yes, I do. You're not the only Assassin with a grudge against this Templar idealist. Many Assassins have lost friends, brothers, sisters... Your pain is shared by the Assassins. You're being paired with someone who also feels this, but knows how to harness it and direct it, as well as keep it under wraps. You're still young and therefore it is understandable that you can be brash, but we don't need another life lost based on poor choices." Hall leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. "I trust Mary, and I know she'll do right by you. She values the opinions of others and she understands what you're going through. Look to her for guidance, but also realize that you two are equals."

Katherine's hands balled into fists, but if Hall noticed he said nothing of her frustrations.

"You two may begin whenever you wish. The last known location of the Assassin-hunter has been left in the archives. Mary, you know where it is. Use the archives as your base of operations for now. Hopefully we won't be moving from this line for another few months."

Mary nodded to Hall. "We'll begin immediately, Hall. I'll let ye know of our progress hoora soon."

Confusion clouded Katherine's gaze as Mary turned and strode out of the room. She followed soon enough, trying to keep up with Mary's pace as they ventured further from the pub and Hall's office, and finally into a quiet, almost peaceful area of the base. The archive's room was stocked full of books, reports, newspapers, encyclopaedias, and all for the use of the Assassins and their research, but mostly to try and discover the location of a Piece of Eden.

"Cozy place, int it?" asked Mary as she gravitated towards the cabinet of alcohol.

Katherine was perusing it with a keen and fairly observant eye. Mary had expected no less, due to Katherine's examining of her earlier. Katherine found her way to a large shelf full of history books on the eighteenth century and began reading the spines.

Mary, meantime, had poured two glasses of Italian wine and approached Katherine with them.

"Barbesco," said Mary as she handed a glass over to Katherine. "Italian wine of this year. I'd give ye something better, but it's all the Italian Assassin teuchters have a taste for. That's a sin, if ye ask me." While Katherine looked at the alcohol in her glass, Mary continued, "I thought we could toast our partnership, lass. We'll bring that scunner down, aye?"

Katherine half-heartedly lifted the glass to meet Mary's, and while Mary finished her drink in a single fell gulp, Katherine took her time with small sips. Then the American watched as Mary began filing through documents and comparing them to a map with dozens of strings and tacks—a map of Europe.

"What's the plan?" asked Katherine as she approached the map.

Mary grinned and gestured to part of the German Empire. "I say we follow yer brothers' trail. This report says the laddies fell in Vienna. So, we go behind enemy lines and see if they tried tae send anything before they were killed."

"And if they did?"

"Hall said someone attempted a sneak attack before the brothers died," Mary explained. "We need tae figure oot who it was and if they left anything concrete." The Highlander glanced at Katherine. "But dannae clart it, lassie. Evidence can be a swick, too."

Katherine halted. "W-What the hell're you saying?!"

"Och!" exclaimed Mary. "Sorry, lass! I mean dannae put all yer chips in the pot yet. I dannae trust the evidence until I have something tae back it up nice and proper, aye?"

That seemed to clarify. "Oh... All right. When do we leave?"

"When did ye get here, lassie?"

"A few hours ago."

"Unpacked?"

"Yes."

"Then ye'd better pack it up again, Miss Prince. We're leaving the morn's morn." Katherine would again ask what Mary meant, and Mary, ever patient, would reply, "Tomorrow morning, lass."