Music Inspiration: Florence + the Machine - "Jenny of Oldstones"
"High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Jenny would dance with her ghosts
The ones she had lost
And the ones she had found
And the ones who had loved her the most
The ones who'd been gone for so very long
She couldn't remember their names
They spun her around on the damp old stones
Spun away all her sorrow and pain
And she never wanted to leave
Never wanted to leave"
Laid To Rest AKA Weekend at Haytham's
1 September 1781
Haytham found himself trapped in eternal darkness where no light nor stars existed in the endless abyss. For as much silence or solitude he sought at times, he was never a fan of the empty void. His mind raced nowadays with the rising conflict as Connor sought Charles with the latter egging him on while he tried to keep both sides appeased. It was not an easy job and the height of the so-called American Revolutionary War was not helping to keep his agent hidden after infuriating the Patriots. Undaunted by the silent void, he walked forward for what felt like eons until a faint glow shone at the end of his path. Did his mind finally decide to give up and join the afterlife? Was he finally going to experience the nothingness of the afterlife? No, he would not allow that to happen until it was os own terms. That staunch determination made him stride forward with conviction to spite eternity and any weakness lingering in him.
He was drawn out of the darkness towards the illuminating orange glow pulsing to his right side. Finally, some decent lighting to guide his way out of whatever place he found himself in. He originally assumed he was in the heavy thick of a forest but when he glanced at the sky, there was no familiar blanket of stars. Only an empty void above him. He was not comfortable being stranded in the unknown darkness and quickly made his way to the safety of the light. The glow became blinding before it simmered to reveal a campsite with a roaring campfire, log bench, and pitched canvas tent. On the bench, Ziio sat silently in the darkness while she sharpened her hunting knife on a stone. It had been quite a time since he had seen her but she was a welcome sight.
"To what do I owe this visit?" he asked calmly as he strode to the campfire, sitting down neatly beside her. Ziio did not stop sharpening as her brow focused on the weapon, remaining silent. Haytham was aware that she no longer existed but here, in the deep crevices of his mind, she was as real as anybody else. The orange illumination from the fire outlined her sharp features, accenting her freckled cheeks, and danced alongside her moving hands. The way her brow furrowed in concentration and the earthy smell of her braided hair as she sat a hand's width beside him. Even in the darkness, she was a beacon of strength and he saw the same reflected in their son. He tapped his fingers upon his legs and offered a halfhearted quip to draw her closer to the fire, "It is quite dark."
"Your mind is pensive as of late," she remarked simply, her concentration never slipping from her task.
This was not the first conversation they held in his mind and he would often dream of her during times of conflict. She had been his escape from the world many years ago and her spirit lingered through the passage of time. His conversations with her ranged from chatty to silent in her calming presence, content with her temporary ghostly existence. It was all that remained of her, apart from their son. The tumultuous war that Connor and Charles led was not making things easier, leading him to mutter, "Many variables to ponder over to reach the end of this war."
"Despite how much you try to run from it, you are tied to our son" she pointed out firmly at the lingering reminder of their failed relationship. Connor was originally an innocent party but his continued involvement with the Assassins made it difficult for Haytham. If he stepped aside or never became involved with them, their story would have evolved far differently. His original intent to draw him to the Templars failed catastrophically and inadvertently pushed him away. Now, he was trying to figure out how to salvage both sides however he could and he smiled faintly when she added in, "So am I."
"I have never denied our relationship" he disagreed earnestly since it was hard to ignore their blended features in Connor. Every time he looked at the boy, he saw Ziio's sharp gaze staring right back at him. Her body no longer existed but her spirit endured in their son and she wandered sporadically through his dreams. Their shared memories were all he had until their son showed up and his dreamscape began. He did not have trusted confidantes anymore but he could confess to her in the safety of his own mind. Crossing his arms, he muttered to her with annoyance, "He is not making it easy."
Ziio shot him a mildly amused gaze, pausing her tool sharpening, and drew in a sharp breath before advising him, "The choice of the Templars over his life will soon come to a head. You must decide."
"Must we speak of dreary subjects?" he sighed morosely at the looming threat of either decimating the Templar Order or murdering his own child. There was no easy way to tiptoe around it and although he fought Connor on his first peace offering, he was trying his best to salvage the second. His son's relentless revenge against Lee hampered those efforts and became a heavy obstacle to remove. Lee had not helped in the slightest by attacking children and cursed him for dragging him into this mess. Dreams of peace always seemed that – an illusion – until his son came along and he sighed bitterly, "Why can we not simply coexist?"
"We tried and failed" she answered quietly since both factions failed to reach an understanding. Haytham shooting Achilles in the leg and converting one of his agents into a Templar had not helped smooth things over either. Is that why Achilles trained Connor to come after him as revenge? Who knew. The time for contemplating peace had passed long ago until working with Connor, silently blaming him for the sentimentality that awakened. He was the new piece to the game that changed everything and threatened the order Haytham instilled in the colonies under Templar control. He grew tired of being in the middle of everything, having to plug holes, and she reminded him grimly, "Again, you will face the same forked road."
When she raised her newly sharpened knife, he tensed immediately at the thought of being stabbed in his dream. It had yet to happen but his dreams had not been peaceful at all lately. Ziio, however, held it upright with a firm gleam in her brown eyes and she spoke with finality, "This knife will be aimed at one of them. You must decide who it will be."
"I can keep them both" he insisted if he conjured a decent plan to keep both sides appeased and grumbled under his breath at realizing this was what Connor tried all along. Hmm, maybe he had become a stubborn old man now. He abhorred foolish sentimentality but here he was, contemplating how to best conserve his order and keep his family. Family. That word had been lost to him for such a long time, devoting his life to the Templar cause until meeting Ziio where it faltered for the first time. If he had known about Connor, there was a strong chance he would have left it all behind and begun anew. The nagging 'what if's continued strongly now that Cora existed and he tried to find one last sliver of hope, "The Templars-"
"Will kill our family" Ziio interjected with cold logic to the reality of a Templar victory that would eradicate their descendants. There would be no safe harbor for them against the dominant force and the Templars would only spread west to continue infiltrating other colonies. Haytham led them after purging the entire Assassin's Order decades prior but the current tug-of-war would lead to another eradication if they won. He could simmer the flames temporarily to protect the remnants of his family and Ziio spoke earnestly, "You and our son may be seeking peace but are all your people in line?"
Haytham frowned at the single member that started the whole mess to begin with, "You mean Charles?"
"Our son will either kill him or Charles will kill him" she explained easily to the final battle that would determine the end of their story. Haytham was tied to both men and his final decision would have serious repercussions for both sides. Would he betray his Order or his son? Was Lee worth dying over? If he recused himself, would the two feuding men end the struggle? Being in the middle certainly had not helped matters but would stepping aside allow him to live with the final verdict? Would he be happy with Lee leading the Templars one day and his family annihilated or the Templars in shambles and his family thriving? Ziio saw the conflict in his blue gaze, resting her weapon on his knee, and stated somberly, "There is no other way."
It was clear now that the Kenway name would be shrouded in tragedy and he attempted another alternative, "If I keep them apart-"
"Nothing stays silent forever" she said evenly because one side would always overlap with the other. Boundaries were never eternal and fixed. He had tried it already after Connor left him in Valley Forge but Lee and Connor were in a direct collision to end the Templar control of the colonies. No matter what new idea he attempted, the pending fight could not be stopped and there would only be one victor. She was right in the inevitable fight and he crossed his arms as she played his logical consciousness by pointing out, "If you choose Charles, you will extinguish everything. You will keep your Templars, as you did many years ago before I died, but at a greater cost."
"Why must there only be one choice?" he questioned irritably at trying something else to calm both sides, grasping at strings.
"Because the wheels were set in motion long ago and they cannot be stopped" Ziio answered sympathetically as all the past events rolled to a standstill in Haytham's decision. While he implored Lee to hide to avoid the fight, it was only serving to prolong it. Connor would not stop his search for the man and his letters were also clear for him to step aside and let them handle it. Under normal circumstances, he would not care about an Assassin and Templar fighting to the death but the man in question was his son. If he sided with Lee, his family would be lost and he treasured his innocent grandchild most of all. If he sided with Connor, his Order would collapse and restructuring it would not be easy – if at all. Ziio placed her hand over his left forearm with a firm squeeze and advised, "The choice is yours but if you choose your Order once more, I will not be the only figure haunting you in this space."
"You do not haunt me" he whispered solemnly, wishing she did not live only in his memories and dreamscape. She was one of several ghosts that plagued him but the one he missed most. His son blamed him for that loss as well despite having no hand in it but he had not made the boy's life easy. If he stepped aside willingly, would he gain his trust – even if it meant Lee could ultimately kill him? Or would blocking him serve better to save him from death? Either decision would have consequences and his shoulders slouched as he sighed aloud, "I have . . . many regrets."
"And more will join me here if you choose Charles" she told him warily on what he would unleash if he decided to support his old protégé. Ziio was a neutral entity in his mind but when Connor was the topic, the essence of who she was shined in her protectiveness of him. For Haytham, he also believed his own sentimentality for their broken family filtered through her as well. Her gaze swept over his form with worry and she pleaded, "Our son has been trying to broker peace, will you finally choose it?"
"Or will you allow Lee to kill the last of our family?" she whispered with disappointment that he would choose his order again, forsaking their child. He was no longer alone, raising a family of his own, and Haytham would wipe out all of them if Charles succeeded.
A shadow rushed by them and he turned to the sudden motion, catching the silhouette of a small figure. Ziio held out her left hand to the darkness and Haytham saw the shrouded figure emerge through the glow to lay a small hand in hers. She pulled the new guest into the light and dark hair met his gaze before Cora's familiar face smiled up at them. The little girl wore the same yellow dress from their last interaction and she leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss her grandmother's cheek. Ziio smiled warmly at her granddaughter, enveloping her tightly in a hug to convey her affection. The two would never physically meet but here, the broken remains of his would-be family could interact.
Her left hand wiggled in the air in his direction, earning his amused attention, and he gripped her small hand to greet gently, "Cora."
"Pop-Pop!" she exclaimed happily, leaving her grandmother's embrace to leap into his arms. He gripped her tightly with a heavy heart at placing her in the middle of a war. She was an innocent heart meant to stay secret but his order would discover her existence if he allowed Charles to lead the order. He would no doubt burn everything to the ground, even if he ordered otherwise. His judgment had become shrouded after meeting Connor, even more so now that Cora existed.
"I am sorry" he apologized profusely, casting aside his collected self to lay his heart bare for her. Cora merely smiled happily, her carefree nature soothing the turmoil inside him. He ran his fingers through her raven hair, reminding him of Connor immediately and wondered if he had been the same at her age. She was the last hope of their family to escape the never-ending cycle of pain and he confessed, "You were never meant to be part of all this. I tried to get your father to take you away."
"Where will you point the blade, Haytham?" Ziio emphasized tightly to return to the burning question at hand. Haytham glanced away from Cora to the knife that returned to her hand, the hilt dangling between her two fingers like a pendulum. Her eyes gleamed sadly against the fire's light and she whispered gingerly, "You are out of time."
His arms clutched empty air as Cora disappeared from his hold and he stood up immediately, searching the area for her. Where had she gone? He did not want her to leave the safety of the camp. Ziio remained sitting on the log, her expression solemn as she stared at her folded hands. A scream tore through the silent night and he recognized Cora's voice instantly, darting forward to holler with alarm, "Cora!"
He abandoned the camp entirely to run in the direction of her frantic cry, his steps heavy against the endless void but his heart thudded painfully in his throat. He was unable to help Connor when he needed him against Charles' brutal attack in the forest and history repeated itself when he finally found Cora. The small toddler dangled in the air, held in place by her throat as Charles held her at eye level. Her little fingernails dug desperately at the man's hand while she tried to bite him to find freedom. Haytham hastened his steps as the grip tightened over her throat, yelling desperately, "Don't harm her!"
Her blue eyes watered as she coughed helplessly, one hand reaching out to Haytham as she spotted him. His fond nickname was uttered weakly as Charles applied more pressure to her delicate neck and she choked on the cry trying to release. He felt each step forward pulled the two steps further away from them and he called out with anguish, "Cora!"
Haytham woke abruptly, torn from the chaotic scene of seizing Cora from harm, and sat up to calm his erratic breathing. His eyes focused on the silent bedroom with the only fire burning were the dying embers in his fireplace, offering little lighting. Sitting up, he caught his breath as he tried to shake the horrid nightmare from his mind. He absolutely loathed nightmares and the passing days only accumulated their numbers. Having Ziio present in them did not make it easier either but there was the valid threat of Charles harming Cora if he allowed him to win against Connor. There would be nobody to protect her if her parents and associates were killed and he would carry more guilt if he was left to send her away for her safety, renewing the tragic cycle again.
He had to stop Charles from harming his family, choosing to end the cycle himself, but he had to keep Connor safe as well. With his son seeking to assassinate the man, he had to be one step ahead of him. Charles could not catch wind of his own interference and it would allow him to determine what to do with him. If he was truly a loose cannon, he would have to eliminate the threat.
5 September 1781
Haytham found himself in Fort George after tracking down Charles through his contacts, embarrassed that his second-in-command was now loitering in an English stronghold. The Patriots had already dismissed him but lurking within the enemy's fortress would not redeem his image. The only reason his old protégé could supply was that it was heavily defended against the Assassins. With his son on the loose, he had tried over several days to convince Charles to return overseas to England in an effort to separate the two men. An ocean apart could do wonders!
Unfortunately, that bubble idea burst when Charles' voice butted in to state dryly, "The boy is on his way here."
What?!
Haytham sat at his writing desk in his private chambers within the West Tower of Fort George, trying to scribble a quick entry into his journal. His gaze flickered from the wet ink to the window in front of him that overlooked the blue ocean. Hours prior, he had seen a faint glimmer of white sails on the horizon through his spyglass. Were they now on their way here? Was Connor in one of them? Associates of his? Had they finally been discovered? Somehow, he was not surprised by his persistence.
Turning in his seat, he waved Charles away to sit down instead of helplessly watching the window. The younger man appeared dwarfed by his clothes, his face was gaunt and drawn while greying hair hung over his face. He was fretful, and if Connor was coming then, in all honesty, he had every right to be. Neither of them were the young men that started the Templar Order in the colonies so long ago and Connor was younger, stronger, and carried an armada behind him. Haytham couldn't help but feel pride in how a half-native boy left the woods with no money, weapons, armor, transportation, allies, and barely a name yet acquired all six within a decade.
"He's my son, Charles" he corrected calmly because there was no semblance of childhood in him.
Charles briefly frowned at the constant thorn at his side and pondered aloud, "There is a family resemblance. His mother is the Mohawk woman you absconded with, is she?"
"Oh, absconded with her, did I?" Haytham replied dryly to his choice of words because their months together were a reprieve from the world. He did not escape any of his duties, merely took time to enjoy his life for the first time with someone who understood him. The amulet to the Precursor site yielded nothing so he had to plan the next steps and if he wanted to do so in the middle of the forest, he had earned the right. Charles had never been one to be left alone to his own devices, a trait he learned too late in the game, and he snapped tightly, "Don't talk to me about neglecting the Order, Charles. You've done your fair share."
There was an awkward moment of silence as the two glanced at each other, preparing the next barb. Haytham had already sacrificed enough into the Order and received only failure from his men along with resentment from his family. Charles, on the other hand, had a perfectly paved road to lead from but chose to fly into conflict with anyone who opposed him. While Haytham sought order, Charles was clearly into power, which irked him further when the man claimed, "You once accused me of creating the Assassin. Does it not strike you as ironic—no, hypocritical—given that he is your offspring?"
"Perhaps," Haytham replied flippantly after trying to appease both sides and failing miserably. Connor would not be stopped and Charles was not helping matters either. He returned to writing in his journal, concentrating on the wet ink rather than the white sails that grew larger by the minute.
Charles took his disinterest as defeat and shook his head to snap bitterly, "You stopped caring years ago, Haytham. I can't remember the last time I saw anything but weakness in your eyes."
Haytham continued to scribble gracefully onto the page, not dignifying the insult at all, and stated simply, "Not weakness, Charles. Doubt."
"Doubt hardly befits a Templar Grand Master, don't you think?" he questioned dryly, aware of his leader's recent inactivity to lash out against the Assassins. Their sect had been strong until the native boy began killing them off one by one, with Haytham pulling away from an offensive stance after meeting him. Ever since the two began interacting, Charles noted his leader weakened in his original decision to kill the Assassin. He was still trying to find the man's stronghold to eradicate him and his people, regardless of what Haytham thought. Still, it was harder than anticipated. He would not be standing by as a lamb awaiting slaughter.
"Perhaps," he agreed, mulling over the words as he compared himself to the man whom he originally entrusted to follow in his footsteps. At the beginning, Charles' unyielding loyalty was welcomed but the passing years chipped away to reveal the cold and ruthless calculation that bordered on reckless impulsivity. He had already been cast aside by the Patriots and Haytham wondered how long it would take for the English to dismiss him as well. It was obvious they held different ideals now and he remarked coldly, "Or perhaps I've learned that only fools and children lack it."
"Balderdash!" Charles exclaimed dismissively at his hesitation to act against Connor and end him. Had he begun to listen to his son's prattle on world peace? Society required taming, not coddling, and he would eliminate anyone who thought otherwise to reach the Templar goal of order. His predecessor was automatically linked to his wayward child through blood and he suspected his resolve to dominate the colonies was wavering. Crossing his arms huffily, his eyes narrowed before he stated bluntly, "Assassin talk. Belief is a lack of doubt. That is all we ask of our leaders at least: belief."
Haytham dropped the quill back in its ink pot and allowed the wet ink to dry from the light breeze entering through the window. His son would be arriving soon and he wanted to leave a note for him to find if his planning went awry. He was always assured in his plans for success but he learned that Connor was better at achieving his goals so he had to stay one step ahead. For the first time, age had caught up with him as he decided on his future path and what he would leave behind as a legacy. Tilting his head to the side, he pondered aloud, "I remember a time you needed my sponsorship to join us and now, you would have my position. Would you have made a good Grand Master, do you think?"
He was not afraid to be blunt with the man he originally hoped would take up the mantle as the next Grand Master. Instead, doubt filled him within the last year and his instinct was urging him to reconsider. His gut feeling never steered him wrong . . . except when it came to his son. He was slightly amused, more than irritated, when Charles retorted defensively, "Were you?"
The slight was not taken personally since he kept his private and professional life apart. At least, he tried to until Connor arrived on the scene. Disappointment filled him for failing his original goal of claiming the colonies for the Templars but it was not for a lack of trying on his part. His ranks were void of his original ideals and he replied sardonically, "That hurt, Charles."
Charles sighed with aggravation, turning away from his leader, to declare, "I'm leaving. I have no desire to be here when the Assassin—your son—launches his attack."
He did not know the commitment of his superior anymore but he didn't hesitate to suggest, "You should accompany me. At least we'll have a head start on him."
Haytham was never the type to run away unless it was in his best interest to fight another day. He and Connor clashed repeatedly over the years but he would not avoid a confrontation this time. If he was indeed infiltrating Fort George, he would hunt down Charles mercilessly. Only he and Charles were left from the original group, making victory much more closer for the Assassins. Despite his son's brutality, there was hesitation in a strike against him but Charles would not be as lucky. He was hoping to delay the inevitable, wondering if sending Charles away (even overseas) would dissipate his son's revenge. Ziio's words of Charles not keeping to a boundary of peace and lashing out still reverberated as well. Too many variables but time was running out. Closing his journal as the ink finally dried, he informed him calmly, "No, Charles. I think I shall stay and make my final stand. Perhaps you're right . . . I have not been the most effective Grand Master. Perhaps now is the time to put that right."
Charles turned on his heel immediately at this and blurted with alarm, "You intend to face him? To fight him?"
Haytham shrugged noncommittally, aware age was not on his side but he had plenty of fighting experience. His confidence in Charles also sunk a bit in that he was more willing to fight him rather than his younger protégé. It did not reflect well on leadership, especially when he had no plan to combat his longtime enemy. These were things that Haytham always explored to stay ahead of his foes. Things that he hoped to teach Cora one day if he was allowed the chance. The child would undoubtedly be sharp and if she was anything like their bloodline, persistent. Charles pulled him out of his thoughts when he proposed uncertainly, "You think you can talk him 'round? Bring him to our side?"
"No" Haytham finalized to his son's commitment to kill his tormentor and he was the only one willing to stop him. The question was how far he was willing to go for it. He could not kill his child, especially after being the cause of many misfortunes. All he could do was keep the body count to a minimum and he began to see more value in his family than the order he tried to vainly preserve. Charles could keep running to evade the confrontation but Connor would always be hot on his heels. It would only be a delay of the inevitable and he explained truthfully on where Connor stood on the topic, "I fear there is no turning Connor. Even knowing the truth about Washington has failed to alter his support. You might want to hurry, though. I have a feeling the time of reckoning is near. It would be best to cut our losses and leave this land before more lives are lost."
Charles did not argue with that suggestion, anxious to leave the fortress behind, and nodded to the man with farewell, "You have been a good Grand Master, Haytham . . . and I'm sorry if you ever thought I felt otherwise."
Haytham was uncertain if this would be the last time they would meet, pending the fury of his inbound son. Would separating the two help to simmer their animosity? Probably not but he was buying time. He would grant Charles one last chance to leave it all behind instead of lashing out at the Assassins. Maybe this would be enough for his son. Nodding to his old protégé, he spoke softly, "And I'm sorry for giving you cause to."
He opened his mouth to speak, silencing unspoken words instead, and promptly opened the door to leave the room. Haytham hoped he would take his advice and run far away to escape his son or there would be no second chance.
The confrontation against his son was harder than anticipated, even after the man had been flung repeatedly by the flying cannonballs. He had worked with him as an ally, witnessing his brutality firsthand against their mutual foes. Now, he was bearing his weakened state and Connor still managed to hold his own against him. Charles was long gone already but he did not want Connor to escape and place himself in danger all over again. He hoped Charles would heed his advice and leave colonies rather than lashing out for revenge after his failure to disgrace Washington. Cora became his main concern and keeping her safe meant keeping her parents alive to raise her. The current Templar Order was not what he envisioned and breaking it down to rebuild it was his only option with a focus on peace. He never imagined it possible after fleeting thoughts of naivete in his youth but his son became his last chance to achieve it. Despite the years of skepticism, he decided to choose his family.
Connor kept trying to subdue him and his admission of not wanting to kill him pushed Haytham to his limit. He would not let him throw his life away with his constant chase after Charles nor let the other man lash out against him. He was the last obstacle standing in his way and Connor would undoubtedly hate him for it, but it was better to have that than his premature death. The cuts and blows to his body were weakening him, which was not aided by the collapsing buildings. The ground shook from the impact of brick, wood, and cannonball upon the earth while the air was shrouded in a gray haze filled with miniscule debris. Despite his best attempt to render his son unconscious, he was stubborn to fall and Haytham contemplated the end of his own life at the exchange of his. Connor was not one to be swayed from his mission, an admirable trait, but Haytham did not see peace achievable if both he and Charles killed each other. Worse, Templars from abroad that did not share his perspective could enter the colonies and kill his family. It was a delicate game that he had to manipulate to garner the best outcome.
Their fierce fight battered their bodies as the debris continued to fall around them, tossing them to the side carelessly like rag dolls when another cannonball struck the ground. Haytham struck the cobbled floor hard on his stomach, the rocky debris opening gashes along his face and palms from the impact. The wind was knocked out of his lungs but he tried to stand upright as his survival instinct kicked in, especially when Connor grasped the back of his cape. A sharp tug followed as he looked over his shoulder at his exhausted son, blood gushing from his lips, as he tried to compromise, "Surrender and I will spare you. Do not make me kill you."
The feeling was mutual as he tried to keep him at bay, wishing reinforcements on either side would arrive to interfere with the fight. Haytham was forced to knock him away with his last strength, hoping he would stay down. Reaching down, he grabbed him by the neck to suffocate him into unconsciousness and snapped, "Brave words from a man about to die."
The constricting grip against his son's throat lessened momentarily as Haytham pondered aloud, "Still, I'm proud of you in a way. You have shown great conviction. Strength. Courage. All noble qualities. I should have killed you long ago."
In the past, he would have held zero guilt for breaking down enemies verbally before dealing a final blow. His son was a different case as the years passed and there was an empty bitterness in his words, wishing there was another way where Connor did not believe his indifference. He could easily unleash his hidden blade and kill Connor instantly, effectively killing the head of the Assassins Order to topple them. Unlike himself, Cora waited for her father and he would not repeat the cycle that led him down the road to whom he became. She deserved to thrive under their parentage, carrying the knowledge of both orders to make her own way in life. Connor struggled against his grip, glaring heatedly at him for his betrayal, and shot back, "You fare no better. I wish I could say I was proud to be your son but I will be a far better one to Cora, who will never remember you after today."
Pain ripped through his hands, releasing Connor when his son's hidden blades tore through his hands to sever the flesh and bone at his wrists. Haytham reared back from the severe strike, blood gushing from both wrists, and tried to stop the bleeding with firm pressure against his chest. Connor sat up dizzily but hesitated on piercing his father's neck now that he dealt a severe wound to his left arm while incapacitating his right hand. Haytham withdrew from him immediately, being rendered immobile as a fighter from the grievous wounds. Blood continued to pour down his forearms as the gaping holes from both wrists throbbed painfully.
An incoming cannonball struck the earth beside them, sending dust and rocks into the air to conceal their positions. Haytham could not see through the shrouded field, losing sight of Connor, and assumed the same from him when he heard him call out angrily, "Where are you?!"
In the end, neither could truly kill the other but Connor's method to eliminate him as an active target was effective. He could do no more on the battlefield in his condition but his son lingered in his search for him. Was it out of concern or to truly end his life? Another rumble of the earth hastened him weakly to his feet as he kept his wrists pressed tightly against his body, unable to do anything but run. Well, more like stumble after the beating they gave each other. Bricks rained down upon him as he bore the hits to his backside, turning to head towards the wall around the city rather than the harbor. He stopped abruptly after another brick struck the ground on his left side when he no longer heard Connor calling for him. Why had he stopped? Was he all right? Did the naval attack hurt him?
"Kenway!"
The new voice called out behind him and he turned to find the only other colonial Templar besides Charles that held potential. He had sent the man overseas years ago to investigate the Precursor items and relay the knowledge gathered in the colonies to stop the Assassins from causing further calamities. Unlike Charles, Shay Cormac did not seek needless bloodshed between the Orders and stayed his hand more than once to show mercy. His sense of morality reminded him of Connor, who was now lost in the haze from the active battlefield. The younger Templar had aged gracefully as gray tinted his temples, mixing into his brown hair as he swatted the air to clear it from debris. His lower face was covered to conceal his identity and protect his lungs from the airborne debris. His old red and black attire had been retired for a silver and black combination but his familiar rifle remained strapped to his back.
He was not alone as a younger man traveled with him, his features concealed like his elder but Haytham was quick to note similar features from Shay. He had met his son as a boy before Shay's travels abroad, noting he was never far from his father – a stark difference from himself. After requesting his presence, Shay managed to arrive in Virginia before Haytham left to seek out Charles. Together, they planned the best course of action to force Lee away from the Order by feigning his death since Connor would never cease in his search for the man. Shay became a more stable agent to trust with almost all the top officers deceased and his willingness to work towards peace aligned with his own. With that in mind, the plan was for Haytham to knock Connor unconscious and the two would escape to elude both he and Lee. Unfortunately, that did not happen and Haytham was now sporting two new gaping hand wounds.
"You took your bloody time getting here!" Haytham chastised him, gritting his teeth in pain, and cocked his head towards the fallen buildings around them. This was not how the plan was supposed to go! Had he given Cormac too much credit? He was supposed to be stationed in one to stay vigilant of the situation and demanded, "What happened to keeping a lookout?"
"It was hard to avoid the cannon fire" Shay answered flatly to the endless bombardment shattering the unearthly silence. It was hard to remain in one building after it was struck, destabilizing the foundation and caving it inwards. The duo had to scramble into another while the father and son fought fiercely outside, only to escape it minutes later when another cannonball ripped into it. There was no safe place to hide and wait but reconnaissance was impossible when the air became murky. They had decided to intervene when seeing too much blood painted the courtyard and found Haytham in his current condition. There were limits to placing his life in danger and he pointed out easily, "I prefer having limbs."
Shay's son darted forward to use the back of his own sleeves to apply pressure to Haytham's wound and ordered his father, "Help me stop the bleeding."
"Thank you, Finn" Haytham remarked politely for the selfless help and earned a sheepish nod in return. He was not as brash as his father had been at that age for which Shay was grateful as he became older. Finn was the cleaner and polite version of Shay as he dressed humbly in neutral gray and powder blue with his brown hair tied neatly in similarly to himself. Shay heard enough stories from Haytham about his own son upon arrival that he never wanted to share such a relationship and didn't envy it. Then again, his boss didn't seem to be the fatherly type. Haytham was not keen on bleeding out after surviving his confrontation, his thoughts once again returning to Connor's wellbeing. The boy was a beast of nature, even when injured, and he was rather proud – although he wished his rage was not aimed at him.
"What a brutal attack" Shay stated with a disapproving frown, wondering the damage such a wound would leave. The two men certainly did not hold back any punches on this final confrontation. While his son assisted Haytham in controlling the bleeding, he kept a cautious glance over his shoulder in case of a sudden attack. If they were with Haytham, they were automatic enemies by association.
Haytham was not new to physical brawls but Connor surprised him with the attack, turning his hands useless. He could have easily stabbed him in the chest or neck but opted not to do so. He was still a sentimental boy indeed. The bleeding stabilized with continued pressure but handling the pain shooting up his arms would have to wait. They still had to escape from the fortress, which was now littered with Assassins more than Templars, and muttered dryly, "Better that than the neck, I suppose."
Shay shot him a reprimanding glare for his nonchalance and questioned, "Were you seriously willing to die?"
"If that's what it took to stop him" he replied evenly because he was willing to die for both causes and recuse himself from the conflict. If he agreed from the beginning to attain peace, this whole event may have been avoided. Instead, he tried to manipulate his son to turn to his side and it went horribly awry. Charles worsened in his behavior against both the Patriots and Assassins while Connor regrouped his forces to attack him. They were both trying to kill the head of each Order but neither was succeeding.
Shay hesitated for a moment at the lengths Haytham would go to for his goals and demanded incredulously, "For Charles? I have a sandwich at home with better credibility!"
"For the Order . . . and to keep my family safe" Haytham corrected sharply, ignoring the jab towards his old protégé, and shot back, "I am sure you would do the same for yours."
"We are terrible fathers for dragging our sons into a battlefield" he agreed reluctantly to the position they all found themselves in as they struggled to keep the Order afloat. The once thriving Templar sect of the colonies had now been reduced to nothing by the Grand Master's own child of all people. Shay found that rather ironic, given his own defection, but said nothing of it. There were enough explosions ringing through his ears to silence those thoughts.
"He can't row a boat straight to save his life" Finn admitted frankly about his father's non-stellar points because he could have stayed onboard their ship. He was not eager to weave through warring naval vessels to dive into an active battlefield for another fight. It was much more of a rescue and escape situation but he didn't doubt an enemy could sneak up on them from either the militia or Assassins.
Shay waved him away with a small frown for the quip and chastised him halfheartedly, "I manage a ship just fine, boy."
Haytham ignored their prattle as he wandered back into the ruined field now that the murky air had dissipated. Having the ocean breeze helped to thin the clouded area but the incoming fire did not help to make that transition faster. Shay and Finn trailed behind the wounded man to ensure he didn't accidentally throw himself into another scuffle. After hearing and reading about the rumors, the father-son duo was not keen on meeting an enraged Connor. The rubble covering the courtyard reduced it to a debris field, leaving it unrecognizable. Haytham doubted Connor would relinquish his search after gaining the upper hand, risking exposure by wandering into its center again. Why was it so quiet? His answer was delivered when he delved further in to find him unconscious on the ground, buried under rubble so deeply that only his arms were visible. With alarm, Haytham ran up to the pile of rubble and winced when he tried to grab the nearest shattered brick. Pain ran up his arms with fresh blood seeping out through his wounds immediately from the force and loss of pressure.
"That's not good" Shay sighed under his breath at the new situation since they counted on Connor running off in the opposite direction. Instead, he was close to becoming the next casualty of the attack from the French Navy. This would not bode well for peace talks and he told his colleague, "Not dangerously bad but-"
"I can't leave him buried under that!" Haytham interjected curtly at abandoning him to be crushed by that pile of brick and rock. He would not be leaving Cora fatherless after tireless planning to keep both sides alive with her family safe. His granddaughter was an innocent party and did not deserve to witness the brutality of their secret war, especially with her family entwined with both. He wanted to grant her the childhood that both he and Connor were unable to have.
"We will die if we linger" Shay reminded him of the time constraint and the threat of Connor waking up if they intervened. Then his boss would really have no escape. Another whistle echoed above them from another barrage of cannonballs and he pointed out tightly, "You're not exactly in tip top shape to help."
"I've survived worse – just a flesh wound" he dismissed after decades of stabbings, falls, fistfights, and dodging bullets. This was simply another to add to the collection until he knew the extent of the damage. His goal was to convince Lee to leave the Order and his son to stop chasing after him to end the ongoing feud. He could not afford to witness yet another death in his family when he could stop it. Injured or not, he would not simply leave without trying.
Shay stood in his way to stop his wounds from reopening, annoying Haytham, and spoke frankly, "Well, your blood trail will leave enough of a marker for them to find him."
"What if they don't find him?" he questioned skeptically to the investigative prowess of the Assassins, given that his son was the one mainly killing off his agents. How could he be sure they would find him? Caroline usually stuck to her husband but she was nowhere in sight, meaning Connor left her stationed somewhere safe – maybe even back home. She was the only one he trusted to find Connor in this rubble and he tried to weave around Shay, who was not budging.
Finn prayed to every deity known to mankind that they would not be buried under rubble too and heard his father sigh aloud, "Here, I will uncover enough for them to see him."
Shay decided it was best to handle the matter himself than let Haytham faint from blood loss and have another problem on his hands. They would be faster on their feet than having to carry an unconscious man back to their ship. He gripped the rubble to clear an area that allowed Connor's arms to be visible as well as his head to increase his air supply until help arrived. It had been a long time since he had helped the opposite side, a surreal feeling sprouting from that action. Could they really find peace again? With the deed done, he turned away to leave and Haytham questioned, "That's decent for you?"
"Enough to not be plainly obvious we had our hand in it" he answered to keeping him visible enough to be discovered but not that he was intentionally placed there. Technically, the rubble knocked him out and he was just there to make sure he didn't suffocate. He did not want anyone to stroll in and assume he was harming the man instead of saving him.
"The Assassins aren't all that bright" Haytham reasoned and attempted to remove one more piece of the broken rubble but Shay stopped him. Why did everyone find him frail after a hand injury? It was practically a given in combat that one would have at least one limb injured!
"They're bright enough you wrote to me to help and salvage our sinking lot" he disagreed with underestimating their capabilities or they would not be in the current situation. The Assassin branches in France were already aware of Connor's successes which had likely spread to other European countries. Haytham's momentum from decades prior crashed to a halt when he entered the ranks of the Assassins and revived the dead order.
Finn jumped in by waving a hand between the two and reminded his father sharply about antagonizing the injured man, "Stop encouraging his blood loss, father!"
Shay was not shy about pointing out harsh truths, a problem that still sprouted from time to time, and stated, "I am simply pointing out hard facts."
"And providing shameful pressure to my bleeding wounds" Haytham rebutted dryly since he would not leave his son to perish, even if it injured him further. His plans would not work with Connor deceased and if he had to lose a hand to save him, then he would sacrifice it. The point of having the other two was for assistance but not everything went according to plan. Shay proceeded to remove a few more sections of the rubble while Finn motioned for Haytham to start moving in the opposite direction.
"We have to go now!" he urged them before a cannonball blew them to smithereens and motioned to the dark sea where their getaway awaited. Smoke billowed everywhere and shrouding their path could lead them down the wrong path.
Haytham was somewhat satisfied in leaving Connor visible for his companions but the incoming firepower left that up for debate. The area was not stable to stay in and the outcome of their fight would leave his son with the impression that he chose the Templars. He was trying to avoid more bloodshed this time, deciding to mediate for the first time rather than annihilate the Assassins, and sighed under his breath, "He will believe I betrayed him."
"Better he thinks you're dead than alive and a traitor" Shay pointed out because it would work better for their plans that everyone believed he perished in the fortress. They could continue their goal in the shadows while eluding both their agents and the Assassins. Haytham would be in no condition to fight or travel for quite a while after they stabilized his injuries. As far as everyone knew, he and Finn were also meant to be in France rather than the English colonies. They were all deviating from their original missions but he hoped it would bring the peace they sought.
"The truth will unveil in time" Haytham stated solemnly as he turned away to begin walking towards their rendezvous point for escape. With the walls surrounding the fortress shattered, there would be numerous ways to crawl out of the rubble to reach the harbor. The trio avoided piles of debris blocking the path as the younger two kept an eye on Haytham to make sure he didn't collapse from the blood loss. He refused to die thereafter forming his new plan to keep both sides at bay rather than leaving his son with more traumatizing memories of sacrifice. He would become better for his family, even if they believed he was gone as a deceiver, and told them tightly, "We just have to stay alive."
21 September 1781
"Would you please be still?"
Lucy narrowed her blue gaze at her stubborn patient as she tried to work against his protests. The attack on Haytham left his hands immobile to promote healing after Shay and Finn returned with him to Virginia. The estate was tucked away in the forest far enough from town that nobody would wander and if they did, Lucy would promptly turn them away. She became a jack-of-all-trades under Haytham's employment and took care of cleaning and treating his wounds to ensure he didn't endure severe blood loss or infection in the first few days. Now, his deep gashes were slowly mending which meant he was regaining enough strength to lash out and he shot her a glare before retorting, "I would if you moved faster."
The two sat in his study with Haytham in his leather chair while Lucy sat on a wooden stool across from him. On his desk lay scattered clean bandages, bottled tonics, scissors, and tweezers that she was using to complete her daily task of cleaning his injuries. She was finishing the next round of new bandages for the evening, approving of the healing wounds that were now scabbing. They were no longer gaping and fresh with blood with his pain subsiding day by day. Of course, that meant his sass and tongue lashings were returning with more power. Lucy, however, did not tolerate his fussing while she worked and chastised him, "Either I do this right or you get a deadly infection."
"Point taken" he conceded to the one who holding him hostage and willing to aid his recovery. He would not be looking a gift horse in the mouth. Lucy was now considered a loyal follower despite claiming neutral affiliation since she never uttered a complaint. The arrival of the Cormac family made the home more lively nowadays instead of its usual suffocating silence and it somewhat brightened Haytham's dour mood. Now that his own family perceived him to be evil incarnate and dead, he had to continue trudging on. The pain in his hands were now only bothersome twitches from muscle spasms but the main obstacle was having them completely covered up to the middle of his forearms. Lucy promised she would lower the bandages over the injury sites only in a few days since she wanted to avoid finger movement from triggering pain at the wrist. Shaking one lumpy bandaged hand, he demanded, "Where's my brandy?"
"You drank it all" Shay called over from his spot at the dining table as he and Finn waited for the two to finish up. Neither of them was eager to see the gaping wounds after witnessing the bloodshed back at Fort George. After being insulted for being squeamish, Haytham ordered them to wait for dinner in the adjacent room so they could all eat together. Never did he think he would ever share a meal in the man's home after traveling for missions abroad. Finn, on the other hand, was loving every minute of being inside the fancy home and on his best behavior.
"Lucy, fetch some more later" Haytham ordered to have a decent stock of the delicious mind-numbing ambrosia. Lucy shot him a dry stare before tucking the ends of the bandage strips under each other to keep them tied for the night, finishing her treatment. Tomorrow, they would commence another entertaining verbal battle but at least her boss would not die prematurely from infection. She stood up to collect her metal tray containing the soiled bandages and compresses to throw them out, leaving her working area tidy once more for tomorrow. She tried not to smile when he added in helpfully, "Buy yourself a cake for my gratitude."
Haytham could be cold to an extreme extent but he always treated his employees fairly. Lucy did not have a boring job despite the rural setting, especially in the recent years after meeting her boss' family. She tossed the dirty linens in a nearby bucket in the kitchen serving for trash collection and approached the water basin to wash her hands with a bar of soap and a bowl of water. From the adjacent dining room, she heard Finn call out, "Can I get a piece of said cake?"
She shook her head this time with an amused smile and quietly dried her hands. The Cormac family had been a part of her childhood after losing her family to illness one winter, learning to survive in the remains of her log cabin and venturing into town alone. Begging and silently looting for sustenance had been a daily toil until she was caught by a shopkeeper. Shay happened to be in the store and Finn implored him to help, practically dragging him by the hand to the frightened girl. After pretending to be her family and paying for the stolen bread, the trio walked out and Lucy immediately handed her food over to avoid the debt. Shay already had one mouth to feed with Finn but he decided to add the girl to their makeshift traveling family until she was old enough to enter Haytham's service.
Finn entered the kitchen to pick up the dessert tray with a fruit cake after helping to set the table with his father. With Lucy busy with Haytham's recuperation, the other two took over chores to avoid overburdening her. She was glad to see her unofficial family after bidding them farewell years prior to their departure to France. They were not like the other Templar agents she met and hoped this new plan would mend the rift before both sides ripped each other apart. She grabbed the last bowl containing hot corn chowder and smiled as the two walked out to the dining room, "If you help me with chores."
The two placed the last platters to complete the dinner ensemble on the table while Haytham smoothed out the maroon tablecloth with the back of his covered right hand. Shay ignored the silent criticism since he nor Finn were accustomed to fancy dinners or high society, eating on the move at times to reach their destination. Lucy moved around the table to fold the white napkins into neat rectangles, placing them on everyone's right side instead of the mismatched order.
"Now, let's begin our meeting" Haytham sat at the head of the table, his plates void of any food, and motioned for everyone else to serve themselves, "And dinner."
Shay hesitated on filling his plate, glancing at Haytham's relaxed stance, and asked curiously, "Aren't you going to eat?"
"Pray tell, how can I possibly with both hands bandaged?" Haytham pointed out dryly and raised his heavily bandaged hands in emphasis on the inability to use his fingers. His hands practically resembled mittens at this point. He would only embarrass himself if he attempted to eat with a fork or with his mouth. Choosing to keep his dignity intact, he added in easily with a nonchalant shrug, "Besides, I ate earlier before this."
"Even when incapacitated, you are efficient," the other man remarked at his perception to tackle problems and gently shooed away Lucy when she tried to fill his plate with food. He did not consider her staff at all, taking the platter of fried cubed potatoes from her to serve himself. She already worked from sunrise and past sunset for Haytham.
Finn had already piled a mountain of food onto his plate before Lucy could reach him, biting into a soft biscuit to proclaim with joy, "This is delicious! I have sorely missed English meals."
Shay tried not to sigh in embarrassment, glancing at Haytham and Lucy in apology, while gently nudging his son under the table to correct firmly, "He means to say thank you for the hospitality."
Lucy enjoyed having guests to socialize and learn information, but they were welcome faces to reunite with. Her days flowed smoother with their help and Haytham wasn't so grumpy like he'd been before heading to Fort George. They were slowly becoming a tight-knit group as they held daily meetings and she liked this side of the Templars that sought peace rather than merciless domination. She folded her hands over her blue skirt and nodded to her boss to ask politely, "Will there be anything else?"
"No, sit and eat with us" he offered instantly to have her join their meeting and frowned lightly at his inability to grab cutlery. Lucy nodded silently, hiding her amusement, and sat down beside Finn to fill her plate with the hot food. She was used to eating before or after the group, even skittering away to eat separately, so she felt awkward at joining them. Haytham automatically included her as part of their group and told her, "You're already part of this by association."
"Only because I find your family more agreeable and sensible than Mr. Lee" she replied evenly after meeting all the players involved in the current conundrum.
"Is it that bad?" Shay asked about the division between the two Templars, wondering what drove the rift. He had already heard of the intense dislike between Connor and Charles that Haytham tried to stomp out but failed miserably. They had all been focused on tending to Hayham after stabilizing him first and this was the first time they could sit down to discuss the next steps.
Haytham sighed under his breath, uncharacteristically sinking in his chair, and begrudgingly admitted, "If a grown man beat your small child into unconsciousness-"
"I would kill him" Shay interjected without remorse, protective of his only child. Unlike the broken relationship of Haytham and Connor, he never left Finn's side from the moment he was born. His mother was a distant memory, a regret he carried similar to Haytham due to his wandering lone wolf status. She had cared for him until illness claimed her, like many souls in the colonies, but he always returned to them until he could no longer do so. Now, it was simply he and Finn. He would never leave him alone and be an absent father to avoid repeating the past.
"Aw, thank you" Finn replied perkily at the fatherly protection, earning an escaped snort of amusement from Lucy. She hid it within an awkward cough before taking a sip of water to continue with her meal. It was easy to see that Shay took the brunt of the brutality of the world while Finn was more optimistic in his views. The fatherly bubble of protection was there while it rose quite slowly when she saw Haytham and Connor interact, the latter duo more argumentative than the former.
"And there we have my son's vendetta" Haytham finished tiredly to the long feud between the two, none of which was his fault to begin with! He did not condone harming children in any way so Charles brought that retribution upon himself. Connor was no longer a child but Cora needed both of their protection now. He would not be leaving the manor anytime soon and word about his whereabouts were likely abound. With his disappearance from the fort, it was easy to build upon a lie and he told them, "We need to address my supposed death by feeding lies to the network. Charles will no doubt be looking for me or should I say, my corpse."
"That place is nothing but rubble" Shay pointed out to the remains of the fortress, highly doubting any bodies would be recovered this quickly. It would take a retrieval force of dozens, which the military could not spare with both the French and American forces tying the noose on the remnants. Even a battlefield in the open required weeks of dragging bodies for identification and burial.
Haytham would seize advantage of that fact to be one of the fallen and nodded to agree, "Exactly, which will make it easier to make my death believable."
Faking a death was easier said than done and Lucy tapped her fork against her plate before proposing, "How will we fake your death?"
"We find a corpse, of course" he reasoned easily, causing the table to fall into silence. Was he really implying to find a dead person to impersonate him?
Shay almost believed him to be joking but the casual tone of his voice told him he was clearly not. Did they really need to find a dead body for him? Finn was the first to regain his composure as he dropped his fork on the plate and dared to ask warily, "Who is this 'we' you mention?"
Haytham simply smiled faintly with mischievous intent and Shay shook his head swiftly before declaring dryly, "You want me to dig up a corpse?"
"I didn't say where it needed to come from" Haytham clarified to widen his search efforts since he would not be picky over a corpse. They simply needed a body to play his double for the funeral and make it believable that he perished to bide him time. It was not an ideal situation, preferring to face obstacles head-on, but preferable to keep both sides at bay. Both Orders were likely recovering and planning their next strategy while his team would begin assisting with cleaning up the Order. He waved one heavily bandaged hand to leave the mission to him with a nonchalant tone, "I leave that to your imagination."
Shay was not keen on having to be creative for a corpse, losing interest in his dinner, and pointed out bluntly, "Where else would I find one? Actually, no, don't answer that."
"Just ensure it's roughed up enough to conceal features" Haytham instructed to offer a decent corpse on display to fool the spectators. He highly doubted his family would attend it but Connor might wander in the distance to verify his demise. His son had gone most of his life alone without parents but at least he had a family of his own to return to. He did not want to pull him away from that to continue chasing Charles but he also couldn't trust Charles to stay quiet in isolation either. He had tried his best to let him disappear abroad and continue his work as a Templar but failed.
"I cannot believe I am agreeing to this" the other man sighed dismally to his next task, foolishly hoping the suicide mission in the fort was going to be the worst of it all. Haytham could be unpredictable so he would have to follow orders and see where he would take this crazy plan.
"If we wish to rebuild this Order and make peace, we will do whatever it takes" he shot back matter-of-factly to the less than glamorous jobs they had to do to reach the end goal. He was not a fan of faking his death and having to hide like a leper in his own home but it needed to be done. Not the type to remain stationary and sedentary, he was struggling not to go insane in the empty house.
Shay motioned towards the back door of the manor past the dining room and questioned, "Well, are you joining us then?"
"No, I'm dead for the moment" Haytham replied charismatically at playing his part and raised his injured hands to remind him flatly, "Not to mention, heavily bandaged."
"How convenient" Shay remarked dryly, already resigned to the fact his missions would be more outlandish than dangerous. Mentally preparing himself for it, he decided to stop eating for the evening and hoped his son would not projectile vomit when they found the nearest graveyard to go corpse fishing.
Haytham hoped his blunt sarcasm had died down over the years and chided him, "I didn't get this much lip from Charles for missions."
"That's because he is a simpering fool" he replied frankly about his blindness fanaticism, unsurprised that he managed to piss off Haytham's child well into adulthood. Yet people kept blathering that he was the one with impulsive tendencies. He was direct and unpretentious, even if it caused him to be disliked. It was no secret that Charles followed Haytham like a lapdog in the beginning and he stated with mirth, "I can already imagine the riveting river of tears at the fake funeral."
"We have to make sure he thinks it's me or the plan is doomed" Haytham reminded sharply of the task at hand to avoid catastrophic failure. For the first time, he was depending on somebody else to accomplish his mission rather than having assistance. After having agents betray him or break off for personal glory, there was little he could do but trust the last that remained in his circle of trust. Given that Shay had yet to fail a mission for him, there was a beacon of hope.
Shay doubted there would be any issue with a closed casket funeral and pointed out, "Didn't you just say to smash the face in? Charles won't tell the difference."
Haytham doubted it would be so easy to fool another high officer with simple bruising and disagreed, "You underestimate the critiquing nature of the man."
"Yes, he's quite obsessed with you" Shay replied offhandedly to the old submissive and glittering eyes of the other man from the last time they were in the same room. He almost worried he drove the other to jealousy when he first entered the Templar ranks and received covert missions from the Grandmaster only. Haytham was not new to receiving attention for his skill but hated having it mentioned by others, especially when his leadership went astray. He could no longer guide Charles out of his path of self-destruction and Shay sighed aloud, "Can you imagine the poor barkeeps that will have to endure his banshee wailing?"
"Go on your way already" Haytham shooed hastily, ushering them all out with a wave of his bandaged hands. They were all fed well enough to begin the next mission and his medicinal alcohol was finally starting to kick in. If he could sneak in a nap while they were away, he would be refreshed by the time they returned. Being alone left him with utmost peace, still not accustomed to having multiple guests in his home. On the upside, at least they were on his side.
Shay was not going to leave on a full stomach if a graveyard was their destination and tossed his napkin aside. Finn tried to devour one last buttery biscuit but his father jerked him by the scuff of his neck to order, "Let's go."
Sighing with disillusion, he obeyed silently and Haytham briefly envied the father-son bickering between the two. He and Connor would not have that chance after their last fight but if they had, would they bear similar attitudes or remain frustrated with each other? Given their headstrong personalities, Haytham assumed the latter. The three men were surprised to see Lucy reappear with a shiny shovel and Shay asked bluntly, "Where did you get a shovel that fast?"
"It's part of my 'ambush attack' arsenal" Lucy answered confidently with a perky smile before knocking on a hollow cabinet in the wall behind her. Haytham left her in charge of fortifying the perimeter and she took that task quite seriously. With her boss still receiving medical aid, she was even more vigilant for any suspicious activity when Shay and Finn were out of the home. Placing the handle over her right shoulder, she added in, "Neatly stocked and available in quick access areas."
With that said, the trio disembarked on their new mission by leaving Haytham with a full table of dirty dishes. He could not help but sigh mentally at his new handicap, disliking being left in the backseat of his own plan. Standing up, he left the dining room to be tended to later by Lucy when she returned. The blonde was certain he would survive without having the dishes cleaned for several hours unless he wanted to reopen his healing scabs. She led the two brunettes down the single road leading out of the estate as the night shrouded their path.
Briefly aware of the plan beforehand during her conversation with Haytham, she had stationed a wheelbarrow for transport. A body, more so a bloated decaying body, would not be easy to carry all the way home. She motioned for Finn to take it to their destination and the brunette willfully obliged, whistling innocently to start their journey. Shay held the oil lantern to light their way to wherever the hell they were going and asked her, "Any chance the town graveyard is nearby?"
"Closest one is miles away" she answered simply since her boss decided to live far away from the town to maintain his private life. That, and secretly lead the Templar Order.
"Just my luck" Shay sighed dismally at what sounded like an easy job failing miserably before it even started. Not new to odd and treacherous missions, he ushered his young team onwards.
Finn couldn't help but poke the silent bear as he crunched over gravel on the road and asked aloud, "Is it just me or have we jumped into insane missions since leaving France?"
"France was boring" Shay replied flatly at keeping to scouting and investigating for the Precursor items rather than active eliminations of enemies. Frankly, the less people he killed, the better on his conscience. He was not like Lee that enjoyed seeing his enemies cower and powerless, choosing to kill them only if it was necessary for the greater good. What was the greater good nowadays, however? War loomed on both sides of the ocean and only civilians were innocently caught in the crossfire. It was no longer black and white, leaving them with a gray area to explore what was right and wrong.
"They were chopping off heads!" his son exclaimed at the danger that they escaped as the kingdom crumbled under the ruling aristocrats. While the colonists rebelled against the English crown, the French people were being fed up with their own ruling party. Unlike the colonists that preferred a noose, the other side preferred a sharp guillotine.
Shay had seen all matter and form of death, stating coldly with a low tone, "It's not the worst I've seen."
"Apologies for the morbid talk, Lucy" Finn spoke sheepishly at remembering she had not witnessed the brutalities of humankind when pushed to the brink of desperation. He was not fond of death, famine, illness, and crime but his years in the Templar Order exposed him to the harsh underbelly of the world. If those issues could be corrected through rules and punishment to breach peace, then it was worth it.
"No, I am quite enthralled to hear these stories" she dismissed eagerly since this was first time she was out and about with Templar agents outside the estate. Haytham hired her to be a simple worker but each year that passed slowly swept her into his inner circle until she could not deny its existence. Now that her old friends were back, she was free to be herself more openly and told them, "Best I have is shooting drunken looters off the property."
"Tonight, we need to find a corpse and somehow match it to Haytham" Shay instructed the two under his wing to keep them sharp on their feet and return home safely. The first part was easy enough to fish out a dead body but to play it off as Haytham would require attention to detail, which he would leave for Lucy and Haytham. Faking the death of a Templar Grandmaster was a first for the history books and briefly wondered if the Assassins also endured bouts of absurdity. Frowning slightly, he added in the last part that would complete their plan, "As if that is not bad enough, we have to figure out how to dump it in the remains of Ft. George undetected."
"We have to go back?" Finn blurted disappointedly at returning to the smoking rubble of a fortress. There was enough blood splatter and debris to thwart any curious bystanders but there were always scavengers looking for a quick coin. They could not risk exposing the mission so it would likely mean going in under the shroud of darkness through a graveyard of wood, metal, and flesh.
"Well, his corpse cannot spontaneously appear in the next colony over" his father stated sharply at simply dropping it off in the nearest district with no logical explanation. He was not keen on returning north either during the middle of an ongoing rebellion but they had their orders. Finn subjected himself to an unwilling trip and Shay pointed out, "We would make the worst conspirators in history."
"All we need is to charter a voyage north with the body in a trunk and dump it in the ruins" Lucy reasoned easily with a simple shrug to disposing of the corpse and murmured, "Can't be too hard."
Finn found it hard that his childhood friend remained a servant her whole life, given her adept skill set, and questioned skeptically, "Have you always been a maid only since we left?"
She knew enough to survive by sticking to the shadows and learning through observation. Caution and preparation was her middle name to ensure she always had an escape route. Living on the frontier was a gamble, especially as a woman without family ties, and she told them, "I know my way around a few things."
"We're keeping her on our team" Shay ordered since he would need hands to undergo Haytham's schemes. He traveled faster on his own but age was catching up, just like it had to Haytham, and teaching the new generation became important. They had to be smarter and find their own answers in the world rather than relying on others. Sparing a mildly appeased glance at his son, he stated flatly, "You're still up for debate."
"I'm your son!" Finn exclaimed indignantly before reaching over to wrap his left arm around Shay's shoulders. He had a few inches over his father but he was the leaner of the two from decades of trained free running and keeping to long-range attacks. Shay chided him often to quiet his chatty nature but he was glad to see the bright spark of optimism fail to leave him.
"I'm tough on you because I want you to thrive" he smiled warmly to ensure he survived the harsh world once he left it entirely. Unlike Haytham that left Connor to find his own road in the world that gradually came back to strike at him, Shay kept Finn close to show him the ups and downs of life. There were shades of grey where one could survive without sacrificing one's integrity and he ushered them onwards, "Come on then."
"Forget what I said, I want to return to France."
Shay shot his son a heated glare for his immediate resignation but the younger man crossed his arms vehemently. The trio had arrived at the small graveyard to peruse through the vacant land to find any open holes or freshly dug caskets to find an easy target. So far, the first two corpses were a big miss. It was not a terrible mission, simply a very pungent one, and he chastised his squeamish nature over a decomposing body, "You haven't been here a month."
The group wandered the silent graveyard with only the lantern illuminating a few feet beyond their reach. Every shadow elongated against the gravestones protruding from the ground and Finn expected someone to be lurking behind every crevice. He was not the type to stroll through a graveyard at night and shot back sarcastically, "Yes, and in that short time, I have avoided being sunk in a rowboat, blown up in a fortress, escaping said fortress, stopping a man from bleeding out, returning to a ship in the midst of a naval fight, planning a fake funeral, and digging up a corpse in the middle of the night to ship it out."
"That is nothing compared to what I endured at your age" Shay stated offhandedly at his negligible complaint after extinguishing dozens, if not hundreds of lives, in his youth. He could fill the present graveyard with the number of dead he had a hand in killing. This was a lesson his son had to learn if he wished to continue with the Order and told him bluntly, "Stop complaining."
"Do not do a generational comparison" Finn snapped back because there should be boundaries not to be crossed. Otherwise, one's moral compass would be completely unhinged. He was all for initiating order and keeping society civil in peace but desecrating the dead was not part of that. It was not an argument he was looking for but understanding, pointing out, "I am stating that this was not in my Templar hiring contract."
"I didn't expect to join the Templars either but here I am" Shay spoke frankly about the paths one chose as they walked through life, unaware what each binding road held for you. The point was determining what was right for you and adapting to the new reality before you.
Finn turned to him with uncertainty in his hazel gaze and asked, "But grave-robbing, father?"
"I never said it was a glamorous job" he sighed softly at the dirty part of their work but every profession held its seedy underbelly. For every positive, there would always be two negatives. Finn was unconvinced by his rationale but would comply with his orders for his father's sake.
"Hush or you'll alert the stray dogs" Lucy warned the quarreling duo since the outskirts of town were the perfect place for the unwanted to linger. Wild animals were common in the cities and the quiet backroads were a perfect place to hunker down for those without homes. What she didn't want was for the territorial packs to find them in the darkness and chase them out.
She strode forward when she spotted an open rectangular hole in the ground and nodded with confirmation when she found a coffin inside. Someone had likely been buried that day which made it easier for them to pull out the body. Hopefully, it would be a male or they would have to search again. The state of decomposition would also be important for passing them off as Haytham but the chilly weather would aid them in preventing quick deterioration.
"I will not fight a stray hungry dog" Finn refused instantly at striking a poor dog during a mission but brightened up a second later to ask, "Can I have a dog? I can train it to be my partner to maul Assassins."
Shay refrained from smacking him upside the head, shining the lantern in his face, and pointed out firmly to dissuade the latter idea, "We're trying to broker peace, not butcher the smallest remnants of it."
Lucy hopped inside the open hole with her shovel and Shay shined the light over the chasm to help her see inside. She grasped the side of the coffin to find the latches sealed for burial and looked to him to ask, "Can I open it?"
Shay nodded silently to let her handle the coffin, shooting his son a side glance for being bested by the blonde. Finn drew the line at decomposing corpses but Lucy uttered no complaints, continuing on her task by slamming the shovel against the latches to break them. She hoped nobody lurked near to hear the metallic clangs and continued striking the side until the metal gave way under her strikes. Stabbing the shovel into the ground beside her, she glanced up at the illuminating lantern overhead to warn them, "Do cover your nose and mouth for the smell."
She pulled up the blue kerchief from around her shoulders to cover the lower half of her face as a makeshift mask. The smell of death was not new to her after tending to livestock but her childhood friend had likely not met old decomposing bodies. Templars didn't exactly stick around to be caught around the dead. Her guess was right on the money when Finn brushed it off, "Can't be worse than a dead chicken," he paused when the overwhelming stench of decay hit his nostrils from below and grimaced, "Bleh."
Shay refrained from another sigh, eyeing his questionable child with dismay, and lectured him, "Why do you never listen? Lucy kept you alive through childhood."
Finn had nothing to say in return, mainly because he was trying to keep his dinner down by keeping his mouth shut. Shay motioned for him to remove his knapsack that contained rope and a roll of fabric to steal their prize. Finn obeyed by removing the extraction materials and hopped inside the small hole beside Lucy, holding in his breath as the smell became stronger. Shay shined the light from above their heads and instructed them, "All right, we just need to hoist him out and roll him onto the burlap."
"If the afterlife does exist, please do not haunt me" Finn spoke gently to the closed coffin as he grabbed one edge of the coffin while Lucy grabbed the other side. Together, the two pulled the cover upwards to reveal a very deceased man inside and released the wooden door. Shay angled the light to confirm that it was a male before they set to work and Finn added in, "You want to fly in the direction of a Mr. Haytham Kenway, sir. I'm just a foot soldier."
"Finn, shut up and get in the coffin" he ordered bluntly to get him moving and expose him to the grittier side of the Templar Order. His son would complain unabashedly, much like his own short temper ages ago, but he would still obey his orders.
"It's like I forwarded through time to look at my future" Finn mused aloud at the dead man before unfolding the burlap fabric to slide it under the left side of the man. Unlike recent kills that were soft and movable, this one was cold and stiff against his hands as he moved the man onto his left side with Lucy's help. He held onto the unmoving form while Lucy retrieved the fabric from underneath the man's side to pull it over to her side. After opening the tarp fully, he released the dead man back into his original back position so they could wrap him tightly for extraction. Finn shook his head to clear the smell of decay from his nose and told her, "The smell isn't any better."
Lucy tied one end of the rope around the legs to begin securing the corpse for transport before wrapping it around him, moving towards the head. Finn helped her with maneuvering the body side to side to assist with the rope until the dead man resembled a neatly wrapped baguette. When the package was ready, the two tossed the ends of the rope toward the top for the next step and Lucy informed, "Ready to pull up!"
Shay grabbed the ends of the rope to pull up the corpse and the two pushed the body upright to remove him from the coffin. The body was stiff against their grip as they scrambled against it, pushing it upright to align it against the dirt wall. Loose dirt crumbled over their heads as they leaned all their weight on the man-made wall and Lucy released her grip when the corpse rested upright. She jumped up to grasp the edge of the hole to pull herself upright, leaving holes in the earth as she climbed upwards. They needed more strength up on top and she brushed off her skirt as she assisted Shay with pulling, ordering Finn, "Keep pushing."
The team was making headway in removing the corpse from its final resting place but their plan was disrupted when they heard an echo, "Oi, who's out there?"
Shay was quick in putting out the lantern by shrouding the glass in his coat to preserve their only light. They couldn't afford to lose the flame. Finn heard a shuffle from above his head while he remained with the corpse and Lucy turned to glance behind her to catch dim lights in the distance. Frowning at the unwelcome company, she informed the others, "Groundskeepers."
Finn found that hard to believe since they were in the middle of a forest and questioned skeptically, "Really? For a graveyard?"
"I should have mentioned it's one for the upper class of town" she added in flatly to the luck of being able to have an eternal resting spot if you have enough money. Meanwhile, everyone else would end up in a ditch somewhere or a shallow grave. If she was lucky, she would have a decent burial by a nice meadow or river. The only alternative for visitors at that hour was an easier lot to dispatch and she added in, "That, or grave robbers."
She yanked the rope once more with Shay but the sharp force tore one of the binds and the full weight of the corpse fell onto Finn. He buckled under the weight of the dead and the sudden force of the drop, falling to his knees and inadvertently slipping backward. He fell into the bottom of the open coffin with the body collapsing next to his right, causing him to cough aloud at the awful permeating smell, "The stench does get worse."
"Keep quiet until the coast is clear" his father ordered when the lights continued approaching and Finn sighed under his breath for the next minutes of misery awaiting him. They could not risk losing the body pivotal to their plan, no matter how uncomfortable his son was about to get. He was putting his trust in the boy to not lose their best bet on making the plan work. If he failed, he would leave him at home to tend to Haytham from now on which would be a beast of work alone. He motioned for Lucy to leave the premises to remain undetected and moved in the opposite direction while ordering, "Get to cover, Lucy!"
"No, no, don't leave me – shit!" Finn hissed defiantly at being ditched by his team and tried to unscramble himself from the heavy corpse. When silence filled his hearing from above, he calmed himself before earning another lecture from his father in the endless darkness. Shifting the body into the coffin completely, he settled in beside it and gripped the open door to shut it over their heads. He never imagined grave digging would include sleeping in a coffin this early in his life but shut out the negative thoughts. He hoped this little detour would only last a minute, deciding to jot the situation into another of his crazy exploits for future storytelling, and told his silent friend, "Guess it's just you and me now, huh?"
Finn pinched his nose to subdue the confined smell in a vain effort to temporarily disable one of his senses. While Finn did his best not to cough out loud from the pungent smell emanating from the coffin, the other two hid behind tombstones. The illumination from the lanterns flashed over the graveyard to banish the shadows as the duo stuck close to the cold stones. Shay was not looking for a fight and stuck to patience, especially now that age caught up to him. He could still hold his own but in a group fight alone, he would earn a bruise or two. Lucy combed her fingers through the grass to grasp rocks in the darkness in an effort to distract them elsewhere. Before she could toss them across the field, the groundskeepers lost interest in their area and moved on as their hushed voices echoed through the air.
"All right, they've gone" Shay alerted the others when darkness fell over the graveyard again and removed the warm lantern from under his coat. Light bathed the short distance as he stood up to return to the task at hand and approached the burial plot. He shined the light above the dark chasm to peer at the closed casket and guided his old ward, "Lucy, tie the rope 'round again and we'll all pull from topside."
With a nod, she grabbed the backpack to pull out another cord of rope and jumped inside the hole carefully to land on top of the casket. The sudden weight held under the wood and she slid off to stand at the entry sides of the coffin to help her friend escape. Opening the hardwood door for him, Finn scrambled out with a sigh of relief at smelling the earthy air rather than decaying flesh. Lucy allowed him a moment to wallow in his alarm at being stuck with a dead person in a coffin while she set to work on retying the corpse for extraction.
The brunette ditched finding a happy place in his mind and threw himself back to work by helping her tie the man all over again. The sooner they left the graveyard, the sooner he could get home to a warm bath. She tossed the ends of the rope back to Shay, who caught them neatly, and nudged the brooding brunette to leave the hole. Finn did not hesitate to escape the dark and damp space to the fresh air above while Lucy hoisted the body upright before closing the casket. They could not leave with marks of their presence in the ditch and she grasped Finn's hand from above to be pulled topside.
With the three back on the ground, Shay gave one end to the duo while he held the other and ordered, "Pull."
Together, the team hoisted their chosen double to use their combined power for an easier job. The rope held steady against the gradual climb with their combined effort until the feet popped up first to be level with the ground. Lucy abandoned the rope pulling to allow the other two to hold the line while she reached forward to yank the body up by the midsection. The corpse rolled onto the grass safely to complete their first objective and Shay released the rope to nod in accomplishment at the others. Handing the lantern to Lucy, he motioned for Finn to grab the head while he leaned down to grasp the bound feet. Together, they lifted the heavy and bloated body to dump it into the wheelbarrow for easy transport. At least, he hoped the last leg would be easy.
Finn tried to bend the body's legs in a vain effort to make their size compact but failed. Hopefully, the darkness would shroud their way back and Shay instructed them, "Let's head back."
Being the most physically able of the group, Finn grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow to return home. Lucy took the front position to light their way back but Shay noticed how quick his son was outpacing the blonde. Given his unexpected encounter with a corpse, he wanted to clear the air and called out, "Finn."
Finn was not ready for a heart to heart in the middle of a dark forest while pushing a dead body. Shaking his head vehemently, he avoided his approaching father like the plague by increasing his pace and shot back, "I don't want to talk about it."
Lucy shined the light in his direction to look over her right shoulder and beamed with a warm smile, "You survived your first graverobbing, I'm proud."
Well, he was lucky in always having Lucy in his corner whenever he fell into trouble. He couldn't say the same back in France. His father, on the other hand, carried a different caring tune when Finn heard him mutter, "True, I expected you to run away screaming blindly into the night."
"Can we just go home?" he questioned exasperatedly to return to a warm home and bed to rest and forget he practically napped with a corpse. After landing in the English colonies, his days had not been spent resting, exploring, or sightseeing. Instead, he was running crazy errands or missions all for the sake of stability. He really hoped it all worked out in the end but he couldn't help but disclose dryly, "I am not fond of being a Templar right about now."
Shay ignored his tantrum but let him be to allow them to finish the mission. The return home was thankfully uneventful and they stashed away the corpse inside the barn to let it be overnight. When they piled into the manor, Haytham was quick to remind them to leave their muddy shoes by the door. He wanted a clean and presentable home, even if he was refusing visitors at this time. He stood in the middle of the doorway to the foyer as they trudged inside, curious about their trip, and asked casually, "Did you find my doppelganger?"
"Yes, and we all need baths drawn" Shay answered flatly to the dreadfully tedious and most smelly mission of his life.
"Again . . .," Haytham pointed out before raising his bandaged hands in emphasis. Although there were moments that he did take advantage of the situation, mainly to get out of boring tasks, he was not happy on being hindered by his injuries. He was the type that preferred overseeing critical missions but Shay and his lot were proving to be a decent team. It was all he had at this moment after the fiasco at Fort George.
The younger Templar shot him a deadpan expression on the daily reminder and stated flatly, "Yes, I am quite aware you're incapacitated."
When a pale and dirt-splotched Finn stumbled past the older men, Haytham asked aloud with curiosity, "What in blazes happened to him?"
"Best not to ask, sir" Lucy answered as she walked in behind him to save his pride, leaving her shoes behind after shaking out caked dirt from her skirt. They all returned in one piece, albeit filthy, to fight for another day. Tomorrow would likely be the day they beat up the poor corpse and stuff it in a trunk to send upstate. For now, she needed to finish the chores for the evening and take care of their aching joints from the night's rendezvous. Heading upstairs, she informed her other dirty accomplices, "I'll draw the baths."
Finn followed the blonde after a quick but polite farewell to the other two to help her with the chore. The faster he could wash off the grime and fall asleep into a comfortable dream, the better. Lucy shot him an amused look for his hasty retreat but allowed him to tag along. Shay waited for the two to depart from the top of the staircase to inform Haytham, "Mission accomplished. Your new friend is in the barn, but we are retiring for the night."
Haytham could not argue with results and decided to free them for the night rather than debriefing the next steps. They could wait until breakfast tomorrow when they were refreshed and bright-eyed to begin maiming the corpse. He would not tell them any of that and brushed Shay away with a wave of the hand to dismiss him, "You've earned your rest. Lucy and I will arrange the rest."
Shay decided to stay silent instead of mock the bandaged hands or risk being kicked out of the house to join the corpse in the barn that night.
1 December 1781
Charles Lee now leads the Templar Order in my father's place. I see now why ours is an eternal war. For each piece taken from the board, another is placed upon it. Back and forth we go. Across the world. Across the ages. Some days, mine feels an impossible task, but I cannot afford to be consumed with doubt. The people need me. Now, more than ever. I must stop the Templars. I will kill Charles Lee.
"Your journal is about to become larger than your father's" Caroline's voice broke through her husband's scribbling as he invested his inner thoughts in his private journal. The long years had been privy to short entries but he was already on his second volume as the war lingered on. The recent escape from Fort George had also made her spouse more pensive, especially after the tattered relationship with Haytham. It was not uncommon for the leaders of the Order to have journals for self-reflection and words of guidance for future generations.
The couple lay low after the last mission to avoid drawing the Templars' wrath after succeeding in the siege of the fort. The Patriots resumed control of the area after the joint effort between the Assassins and the French armada, pushing back the enemy's forces on both sides. The drawback was skirting around the Templars to quietly locate Lee for Ratonhnhaké:ton. Lafayette assisted the Assassins in finding Lee's whereabouts to put an end to their mutual enemy. Without his father around, the de-facto leader would eventually be pulled into the open to lead his forces and he had to be ready to strike.
"Understanding his motive and mind is complex" he admitted pensively after reading the contents of his father's journal after having time on his hands. Cora would often sit in his lap to hear him read aloud at night, at least for the child-friendly parts, to learn how to read herself but usually fell asleep by the end. Haytham had not lived the easiest life but for Ratonhnhaké:ton, he had been taught to do what was right – not behave only to survive. His father had a twisted sense of honor but it was that shred that he held onto for understanding and peace, which had been in vain. Closing his own journal, he set aside the materials and leaned back in his chair to sigh, "I have been trying to read it, but our fight is still fresh in my mind."
Caroline did not want him dwelling over what could have been since he tried his best to change Haytham's point of view. They could not undo the past or see the future, doing what they could with the present. Given that night had fallen upon the town, she wanted him to spend the last hours of the evening relaxing rather than conflicted. If he was insistent on mulling over Haytham's intentions, she offered, "Maybe it would help to read the last entries to peek into his final thoughts."
Ratonhnhaké:ton was not ready to read the last moments of his father before the fight and stated somberly, "Even now, I still do not know if he perished."
"If we have heard nothing of him while Lee continues to flee from the reports, we can only assume he did" she soothed gently since he barely escaped unscathed and reported that Haytham had been alone for their final fight. If it wasn't for Duncan and Stephane, her husband would have likely perished as well under the falling rubble. The incoming messages of intel spoke only of Charles so they had to make the hard decision that Haytham was gone. Whether it was for the best was still unknown and she grasped his shoulders to whisper, "It's been months, dearest."
"I . . . I wish he would have chosen us" he spoke solemnly at being discarded at the end of all things rather than being taken into consideration. If not him, at least Cora. He was not lucky in having two doting parents and being torn prematurely from the mother who loved him most. Their recent interactions gave him a flicker of hope that they could change the future but it was tossed aside once more for Haytham's Templar supremacy. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes to thwart off his exhaustion and told her, "Part of me held onto hope . . ."
"It's not wrong to want a father to pick his child" she reasoned to a basic need for love for which she never hesitated to offer him. He carried a great capacity for it, evident in their daughter, but he could not change the hearts of others. Caroline sympathized with his loss since he would never have the father-son bond he sought with Haytham, even if shaky. The aftermath of Fort George would be processed emotionally in time and she whispered gingerly, "He preferred his legacy as his child, I suppose."
"We will choose our Cora" he stated firmly to his dedication over their little girl and stood up from his chair to leave the study behind. The hour he spent writing and reading calmed his mind but left unanswered questions. Leaving that gloomy business aside, he returned to his family to focus on them for the last few hours of the night. Glancing down at the floor, he failed to spot Cora weaving between them like she usually did and asked, "Where is she?"
"Making shadow puppets" his wife replied with a soft laugh at Cora's ability to entertain herself. She had left Cora in their bedroom to let her play with the illumination from the lantern resting on the dresser. With her attention seized by the dancing shadows on the wall, Caroline took the time to check in on her spouse to remind him of the late hour.
"With her tiny hands?" he chuckled softly at her lack of coordination with precise movements.
"Anything amuses her right about now" Caroline explained with a casual shrug on her easygoing nature when she didn't throw a tantrum or became a picky eater. The toddler years were keeping the couple busy now that Cora could run and talk to be heard rather than seen. She was glad to have Ratonhnhaké:ton home to keep the two together and Cora soothed her father's broken heart. Their family was able to stay together that fall but she knew they were on borrowed time until Lee was found. She sought to bring her child a semblance of normalcy between the fighting and told him, "I want to keep it that way."
He paused by the doorway, grasping the wooden edge, and gazed at her to admit quietly, "I have yet to find a suitable reason for what became of her grandfather when she does ask."
"I still say tell her he's on a trip around the world with a follow-up of a sinking ship with zero survivors" she reasoned easily to creating a believable lie that Cora would accept to keep her agreeable. The last thing she wanted was for her to be distraught from the truth, especially when her grandfather chose his team. She was too little to understand right now and it would bide them time before divulging their secrets one day.
"Versus telling her he was killed by either myself or a fortress collapsing on him in a never-ending secret war" he sighed disappointedly at his hand in the final end of his father but he granted him a chance to flee. He did not want to be the one to claim his life and one day, his daughter would learn that harsh fact. He was still trying to accept his choice but it only fueled his rage towards Lee.
"When she's older" she stated firmly to protect their daughter from their secret world until she could grasp its reality. They would teach her how to survive in the wild and maneuver through the cities but the Assassin's Order would be nonexistent until she was older. It would likely be near adolescence but if their daughter grasped abstract and concrete information earlier, Ratonhnhaké:ton would make the decision. As her mother, Caroline would shield Cora until her mind was ready and reminded her husband, "We must tread delicately."
He did not disagree with her viewpoint but it would be a long time before Cora learned the truth. For now, he had to focus on the present and left the study to find their daughter. If left on her own, Cora would sleep only when her body was near collapse and out of energy. Entering the main bedroom, he found her sitting in front of the wall beside her crib in her white sleeping dress. Her little hands were intertwined as she tried to cast shadows on the walls to resemble animals.
Her loose raven hair shined under the light when she turned at the sound of their footsteps. Cora smiled toothily at the sight of her father and held her hands up to declare proudly, "Rakeni, look!"
On the wall, what he assumed was a bird floated around with the movement of her small hands. He would not dissuade Cora's achievement, delighted by her joy at simple things, and encouraged her, "Big eagle, little eagle."
"More like father eagle" Caroline joked to his protective hovering and clapped to her success of the night.
Cora closed her right hand into a fist and held up two fingers, remembering her aunt Alice's imitation, and exclaimed giddily, "Bunny!"
"You are getting very good at this" Ratonhnhaké:ton complimented her, earning a wide smile, and he kneeled to mimic a larger bunny beside hers. Cora laughed at the two bunnies dancing along the wall, attempting to make hers jump by darting forward from her seated position. He pulled her into his arms before she toppled over the skirt of her pajamas and told her, "But we will play again tomorrow."
"Time for dreamland, my love" Caroline agreed as she patted the bed, pulling back the warm covers for Ratonhnhaké:ton to plop her little form down. With the colder nights, they kept Cora nestled between them to thwart any colds from sprouting. The couple would take turns settling down their toddler to sleep while the other finished up work throughout the house. This time, she would take Cora since the cold was slowly creeping in through the cracks under the doors.
Cora pouted with disillusion at having to sleep instead of play and asked innocently, "Do I have to?"
"Yes, you'll grow bigger every day" Caroline answered with a fond kiss to her freckled cheek before wrapping the covers up to her round chin. Cora's little fingers peeked out from the top of the covers before pulling on her mother's nightgown to beckon her. Despite sleeping alone in a crib during spring and summer, she was happy to slumber beside her parents during winter.
Caroline abided her eager daughter and settled in beside her, snuggling her small form with a motherly smile. She understood why her own mother had been so protective of her for so long and counted herself fortunate for it. One day, Cora would likely rebel in her own way but she would never leave her side. She combed her fingers through her daughter's sleek hair to lull her to sleep. Ratonhnhaké:ton smiled at his wife and daughter, wishing to join them but he still had one last task left. Sleep would have to wait for a while longer and he informed Caroline, "I have a few letters to write before heading in."
She shooed him away playfully to let him carry on before it became too late and smiled fondly, "Don't take too long, the nights are getting colder sooner."
He leaned down to kiss Cora's forehead, earning a happy call of his name, and he tightened the covers around her even more. His daughter smiled toothily for the fatherly care and wiggled in her spot before closing her blue eyes. Caroline tried not to laugh at her enthusiasm to go to sleep after the initial resistance and reached out to cup his cheek with a fond smile. Ratonhnhaké:ton kissed her in return, appreciating her open affection, and whispered, "Sleep well, both of you."
She pressed her lips to his once more before releasing him with a coy smile and rosy cheeks. He had work to do and she would not keep him from it, sparing him one last glance before settling down to sleep beside their daughter. He left the room with quiet footsteps as the lantern illuminated his backside. Returning to his study, he had one more task to complete before retiring for the night. Not that he would sleep much, anyway.
Ratonhnhaké:ton failed to inform his wife that he discovered the location of Charles Lee and planned a solo trip south. He could not risk Caroline leaving Davenport and much less leaving their daughter behind for a longer period. Cora depended heavily on them and he would not uproot their lives for the Order or expose them to his enemies. The battle at Fort George had been a day's travel but even then, they had been anxious to return home. They could not do that to her again and he decided to handle the Lee situation alone to keep his family safe. The lantern in his study burned brightly and he sat down at his desk again to pull out paper to write a letter to his family. He would leave before sunrise to get ahead on his trail and avoid his wife chasing after him. It was never his intent to hurt her and she would understand his actions . . . hopefully. With a heavy heart, he wrote a short but meaningful letter for them with the blind optimism that he would see them again soon.
My Caroline and Cora,
By the time you read this, I will be gone. I am stricken with remorse and guilt for leaving you alone but this is one mission that I must undertake alone. Risking you again is nonnegotiable, Caroline, and I need you at home as my second in case of any retaliation from the enemy. I am heading south to find Lee but I will not write his whereabouts lest you find me. Know that I leave our home with a heavy heart but it is to end this long war for which I will depart. I will return to you once I kill Lee and bring you a home free of fear like I promised long ago.
Eternally yours, your husband and father
This was one fight he had to tackle alone.
16 December 1781
Ratonhnhaké:ton had arrived on time in New York to attend Haytham's funeral and find Charles. Through his network, Dobby forwarded the location to him along with the intel that the Templar was among those who would attend. After leaving his family behind, he could not allow Lee to escape again and risk that threat looming over them. His father chose Lee over them and he would finish what he started so very long ago. He stuck to the shadows of a building across from the site where the funeral was being held. His target was indeed in attendance and appeared more haggardly and disheveled from the last time he saw him in Monmouth. Charles fell into a lengthy speech about Haytham and destroying anyone who opposed them, treading on turning the spotlight back to himself. Ratonhnhaké:ton was not surprised by that at all and continued to hear the prattle.
"The Assassins are a cruel and terrible coven. They speak only the language of death. Too late he learned the truth of this. Murdered by his own son. He gave his life as he lived, in service to a dream we all share. And so we must fight on. We will vanquish our enemies. We will spread our word. And in time, my brothers and sisters, in time we will have our New World."
It was at this point that Ratonhnhaké:ton decided to intervene before his irritation was replaced by painful boredom. The audience that Charles gathered did not intimidate him in the slightest after the fight in Fort George. The blatant exposure surprised the ranting Charles, stopping the congregation, and raising a fuss immediately with his presence. Before his trip south, he had altered his appearance by shaving most of his hair on the sides and back, tying the remainder at the crown. The red and black war paint streaked across his cheeks also added a menacing appearance to his overall intimidation factor. He assumed this helped to scatter the civilians who stopped out of curiosity to leave the place, leaving only him and the Templars gathered there.
He was the number one wanted Assassin by the Templars and allowed himself to be restrained by his gathered mercenaries, giving him a better view of his surroundings. It was a small cemetery with weak wooden fencing decent enough for escape while three exits between adjacent buildings were there. Charles might have felt confident with his ten man escort but he was undeterred by the little number in his way. He had defeated greater numbers than this on battlefields so lulling his petty numbers into a false sense of security would work in his favor.
Charles breathed in deeply, annoyed at his arrival and relentless knack for tracking him down. While Haytham opted to stay, he left the oncoming conflict and carried guilt for lacking the bravery his leader did. Well, ex-leader. The body of Haytham lay in the wooden coffin beside them as a result of staying behind to delay his own son. Clearly, that plan failed terribly and Charles narrowed his gaze to speak bitterly, "He sent me away ... That day at Fort George. He feared for my safety. I should have stayed. He said there was no danger."
Ratonhnhaké:ton remained stoic but his firm voice was full of conviction, "He was wrong."
Rage filled the Templar at his calm façade despite being outnumbered and Charles ordered the men to subdue him. Ratonhnhaké:ton did not give him the satisfaction of noise when he was knocked down to his knees from behind and the older man declared spitefully, "I will kill you, Connor. This, I swear. I will finish what your father couldn't. Not here, though. Not today. First, I'll destroy all you hold dear. I'll burn that homestead of yours to the ground and roast the severed heads of your precious founding fathers in its flames."
His blue eyes were aflame with revenge to recoup all his losses in one blow as he finished confidently, "And when I've finished with them, all the rest will burn as well. Your merry band of Assassins. The human refuge that lives on your land. Your village and its people. Your family. All of it - gone!"
Ratonhnhaké:ton was accustomed to bearing losses from a young age but life had taught him how to protect those dear to him. He was no longer a frightened child under Charles' brutality but a trained adult that now caused the other man to continuously flee from him. What did he have to fear from him now that they were finally face-to-face? He had no allies anymore while his own lingered in the shadows. Furthermore, his town, family, and friends could hold their own in a fight. He was not deterred by his threat and his brown eyes narrowed as he humored him, "You can try, Charles. But as with all your schemes, this too will end in failure."
Charles grit his teeth with frustration at his nonchalance and ordered his mercenaries, "Get him on his feet. He will watch," leaning closer to his enemy, he cursed him, "And then - when he's seen all his life's work brought to ruin. . . only then will I allow him to die. Take him away."
He was done speaking to the native and left the area to continue his work of eradicating the Assassins. With Haytham now gone, the Order fell into his hands and his first goal was to eliminate the boy after killing all he loved. The men took Ratonhnhaké:ton away from the gravesite and proceeded to attack him out of the public's eye. The hired goons expected the fight to be an easy one but the tide changed within seconds when Ratonhnhaké:ton unleashed his brutality to leave two men on the floor with concussions. He was no longer restraining himself after the last battle and did not hesitate to incapacitate anyone who stood in his way. He refused to compromise his moral compass but he would be merciless in eliminating any who stood in his way.
When the last mercenary's throat was clutched tightly in his hand, he demanded coldly, "Where has Charles Lee gone?"
"The harbor... to catch a ferry..." the man wheezed helplessly before being tossed aside when Ratonhnhaké:ton headed for the port. He did not need to waste time on the insignificant while Lee was running free to continue his path of destruction.
From an opposite building, Shay and Finn were tucked against the brick exterior watching everything unfold. The two had traveled to the cemetery after being included in the letters announcing Haytham's funeral to confirm everyone believed it. Given Charles' reaction, it was safe to say Haytham's plan worked and Shay muttered with sheer disbelief, "That's his boy? I can see why Charles runs away."
"Maybe he's strategically retreating?" Finn offered helpfully since the man was clearly not one to take lightly in a close-range fight. Being trained heavily with a rifle, it would be a terrible match-up for him. He would be pummeled into the ground before he could reload his next bullets.
"It's still quitting no matter what way you put it" his father chided gently because there would always be a target that would test one's capabilities. The key was outsmarting them or using a weak spot to score a critical shot.
Finn shook his head without shame at living another day to plan a counterattack and told him, "Honestly, I would not engage a man that beat down a militia barehanded without breaking a sweat."
Shay shot him a mildly disappointed expression before pushing him out of their cover to lecture, "I expect you to at least try. You are a Templar."
"A Templar that enjoys existing with all my teeth" he replied perkily with a wide smile to show off his diligent dental care despite the numerous fist fights growing up.
The older Templar was not keen on being spotted in the open, especially with the twitching mess of mercenaries piling the ground, and instructed his son, "Let's go before we're caught. We can at least report that Charles bought it."
Keeping to the backstreets littered in the shadows, the duo walked together and Finn asked curiously, "Do you think Mr. Kenway will be pleased about his eulogy?"
"Tears and a fistfight isn't Haytham's style" he answered to the lackluster ceremony that would not impress his boss. Fighting and emotional dramatics would not make the man clap with admiration but rather, annoyed admonishment.
"Have you given thought to what I should say at yours?" Finn asked carefully, given that they lived in a dangerous occupation. True, they were imitating wandering explorers/frontiersmen temporarily while in the colonies but both their farce and true work was a safety hazard. He was aware his father was catching up in age, despite his tenacity, and they had to be prepared for that fateful day.
Shay did not hesitate to ponder over the question and answered matter-of-factly, "You won't. I'll let Lucy do it."
"What?!" he exclaimed at being brushed aside for his friend, shocked that he was out of the running altogether. Did he really not believe in him to give a speech?
"You'd blubber through the whole thing" his father reasoned earnestly at his good nature and they shared a better relationship than he ever did with his nonexistent flesh and blood parents. Finn was the one positive seed he was nurturing for the future and having Lucy in the colonies would aid that. Together, their little team could become strong and he smiled faintly to add in, "But I catch your meaning."
"You think we can actually make peace with them?" he asked uncertainly after never speaking to an Assassin on a personal level outside a fight to the death. They were natural enemies from the moment he learned about them and his father taught him everything he knew to detect and destroy them. Their ideologies ran on different wavelengths which made peace farfetched to him. After seeing the destruction of Fort George and the brutal fight from Haytham's son, he was a little hesitant about being out in the open with one for a discussion.
Shay sighed under his breath because generations tried to seal that chasm but failed repeatedly. The only difference this time was having Haytham and Connor as blood bonds on opposite sides. He had once been an Assassin himself and the path that led him to being a Templar was a dark one he struggled to forget. There were no innocent stories on either side but if there were enough numbers on both sides seeking peace, maybe they could achieve it. He would work with Haytham to reach it rather than continue destroying lives on both sides and told him, "I hope so or it's another life full of bloodshed and we're low on numbers."
Finn went out on a limb with an idea to bridge that shattered gap and proposed, "We should help them out with a warning on the pending attack. That should earn us some credibility?"
"When I left, the old mentor and I were not on the best terms" his father replied embarrassingly to the last contact he had with Achilles Davenport, for which Haytham was also part of. The Assassins were revived and stronger than ever, requiring a ceasefire before the Templars became the annihilated side this time. Despite admitting some of his past to Finn, he did not reveal every detail of his past just yet. If he did, he would likely view him differently just as he did when he self-reflected after defecting. He was not looking forward to that disclosure and admitted grimly, "Time hasn't helped that, but I will grant them an olive branch this time. There are things I've done for the Templars that I am not proud of. I do not want civilians harmed for our benefit."
He would do his best to save Davenport rather than destroy it a second time.
A/N: Boy, this was my first most Templar-centric chapter and I had fun with it. I wanted to include the excerpts from Forsaken since this is a Haytham-centered chapter. Unlike the novel, though, Haytham has the amulet and is keeping it safe to see if it takes off the target sign from Lee (it won't) while he plans. It will end up in the rightful hands, anyway, at the end of it all. This story has changed greatly from the original outline that followed the canon ending with Haytham dying and Cora arriving until 1784 since her parents wouldn't have married until the canon ending in 1783. Instead, we have Cora changing Haytham who in turn recruits his old ally to bring peace to both sides. Now, we have Shay and his team added into the mix as they work to save Davenport while Connor's been unleashed against Charles. The next chapter will continue with Connor's lead to Boston after him for the shipyard fire, the attack on Davenport with Caroline, and Haytham's continued plotting.
Thank you for reading and for the past chapter reviews!
East Coast Captain: I'm hoping I wrote Shay decently since I didn't play Rogue unlike Black Flag and Unity so YouTube was my guide for him. I do want Shay and Charles to be opposites as Templars, which can be seen in this chapter in their attitudes towards the Assassins. While Shay decides to seek peace to stop the bloodshed, Charles wants to ignite more. Like Haytham, he now has his own family to preserve which is an extra incentive for peace.
Mercy Medical angel: Haha, I feel like the town knew something was strange about Connor and since he's a pretty honest person, he admitted the truth to avoid being guilt-ridden if anything happened to them. This, in turn, will at least fortify the town more and the Assassins, especially now that Connor left to chase down Charles for the final fights. Since Connor has contact with Lafayette, I'm using that as the connection to France which in time, will branch to Arno once Cora is up and running alongside her father.
ThyDevoutBeliever: Yes, Haytham is indeed alive and nagging everyone while he recuperates. He even has his new ragtag team of minions to do his bidding. Given that Fort George was a pivotal fight (one of the last battlefields for Connor) and the original end for Haytham, I decided to have all of them fight for their future. Connor is reading Haytham's journal slowly but he will finish it while he heals after the Boston harbor explosion next chapter. It will help him understand some of his father's motives while believing him to be dead.
Next Chapter Excerpt:
The ensuing chase led him through businesses from the shipping yard into the shipbuilding section. Charles attempted jumping into a rowboat in the harbor but Ratonhnhaké:ton kept chase, prompting the Templar to flee into a smoldering ship. Was he crazy enough to risk immolation to escape him? Ratonhnhaké:ton did not relent in his pursuit, ignoring the warnings from workers that the half-finished skeleton of a ship was dangerous. Smoke billowed out from within but he dashed inside, trailing after Lee when he slipped under planks to run further inside.
The weak stream of smoke that billowed from the ship had become an inferno in the bowels of the ship. He was extremely careful not to let the flames touch his clothes, using his dexterity to avoid the falling wooden panels on fire. Ashes fell on his head and shoulders from the higher levels of the ship, especially when Charles began to ascend the ladders and protruding planks to climb higher to escape him. If he thought that would stop, he was wrong. The building heat inside the smoldering ship did nothing to dissuade, pushing him onward when he had to climb onto ropes and beams to jump across the burning chasm.
The floor above collapsed in front of him when Charles ventured to the exterior of the ship and he waited for the debris field to clear. Charles was older than him and would eventually tire in his run while he had plenty of time on his hands. Jumping over beams and either climbing over or sliding under planks was a simple obstacle after years of practice. When an unfinished corridor ended or was blocked, he simply found a way around it to continue his chase forward. Lee was heading towards the front of the ship again, trying to return to the harbor, so all he had to do was carve a path straight there.
When Charles rounded the corner from an overhanging beam with a pulley swivel, Ratonhnhaké:ton grabbed it when it swung back. The momentum allowed him to jump off to cut distance between him and Lee as they reached the top level of the burning ship. The flooring was almost complete, allowing him free rein to run at his target as Charles tried to reach the opposite end. Just as he was about to reach Lee and release his hidden blade, the floor below their feet collapsed and the two fell into the belly of the ship. Broken planks of wood fell upon the duo as they hit the lower level hard and Ratonhnhaké:ton's right side erupted in pain upon landing on his back.
He wondered what kind of shoddy workmanship was being used. His father-in-law built better toy ships than this. The impact struck him with a brief bout of dizziness and he shook his head clear of it before glancing down at his side. His right hand was faster than his sight and he touched warm liquid trickling down his coat before his fingers grasped a wooden stake embedded in him. He saw the top of the stake sticking out of the bleeding gash and cursed his luck at being this close to Lee, only for this to happen. Charles was faster at recovering, bearing no wounds from the fall, and the older man stood up to approach him once he saw the injured Assassin.
Ratonhnhaké:ton gripped the end of the wooden pole to attempt pulling it out, despite the blinding pain, as Charles spoke grimly, "Why do you persist? You put us down. We rise again. You end one plot – we forge another. You try so hard ... but it always ends the same."
His hands slipped over his own blood but he managed to pull out the piece in one sharp yank, biting the inside of his cheek to subdue the pain. He used his right hand to apply pressure through his tattered clothes just as Charles continued coldly, "Those who know you think you mad and this," he motioned towards his new injury, "is why, even those men you sought to save have turned their backs on you. Yet you fight. You resist," his blue eyes narrowed as he demanded, "Why?"
Ratonhnhaké:ton's right hand gripped his pistol as the flowing blood obscured his movement and with his finger on the trigger, raised it to aim at Charles' abdomen to retort, "Because no one else will!
The bullet shot straight into Charles's right side, echoing the same sharp pain to match the Assassin. The impact brought the man to his knees as he clutched the bleeding wound, pressing both hands over it. Standing upright with a painful grunt, he hobbled away to escape. Ratonhnhaké:ton's vision faded to black from the pain as the Templar left the ship. He had failed in killing Charles but left him with grievous parting gift.
He regained consciousness sometime later when sunlight struck his face compared to early sunrise with fog filtering through the dock. His hands laid over the wound in a subconscious attempt to dull the pain and he wiped his bloody hands on a clean area of his coat. With a painful groan, he managed to sit upright as pain ripped through his torso and he stifled any nose from escaping his throat. He still had to find Lee and kill him, especially now that he was wounded. He leaned into his healthy left side and used his hand to push himself onto his knees before standing upright, keeping pressure on his wound. The sharp movement dribbled blood down his clothes again but he pushed himself to move forward. He refused to die inside a damaged dry docked ship and slowly walked into the sunlight where the floor eventually descended into steps. The bow of the ship was still incomplete which allowed him to leave the area discreetly, especially after the fire in the rear scared most of the dock workers.
He ignored the curious look of bystanders when they did spot his bloody form walking through the docks. His steps were short and stiff to avoid irritating the wound while his head swam from the head trauma and loss of blood. It was easier to track Lee this time when he followed the droplets of blood that left the docks and headed toward the transport district. He used nearby crates, poles, and bannisters to guide his steps but he was tiring quicker than anticipated.
"Connor!"
He shook his head at the sound of his name, questioning if the hallucinations were induced by blood loss. He didn't remember this happening back in Fort George when the fortress collapsed on him. His thoughts were interrupted when Duncan and Clipper bounded into his line of sight and he stared at the two with surprise. The redhead motioned towards the nearest sidewalk shrouded in shadow and told his boss, "Let's get you out of 'ere before the mercs come back."
Ratonhnhaké:ton swallowed sharply as he managed to ask, "How . . .?"
"It's kind of hard to ignore a burning ship and two guys walking out with blood trails" Clipper pointed out amusingly to the black smoke that billowed into the sky that morning and earned curious onlookers. Through his contacts, Stephane learned that the shipyard erupted in fire and two crazy men dashed inside – one being a native. It wasn't hard to put two and two together for the Bostonian Assassins and they set out to help their friend.
Thank you for reading! Only 5 more chapters to go!