WRITERS NOTE
I was initially going to post this story under crossovers, but realised it might severely impact its visibility, so I'm posting it here. The story features slight crossover with the videogame Assassin's Creed, more precisely some of the concepts and factions within it. Familiarity with it is not necessary at all to read this story, but it might add extra context.
The time was exactly five thirty in the afternoon as the train came to a stop at Bright River station. The day was clear and humid and the inside of the train had gotten uncomfortably hot, so when the doors swung open people poured out at remarkable pace. Amongst the last people to get off the train was a young lad, no more than 15 years old, dragging two large travelling trunks. Behind him was an older man, already grey in the temples, with a crutch under his arm and a limp in his gait. He was urging the boy to hurry.
"Get on with it Thomas," the man poked the boy in the back "We haven't got all day."
Thomas pulled the large trunks off the train and onto the platform, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead from the afternoon sun. The older man, his father, stepped off the train and immediately pushed past Thomas and headed for the station doors.
Thomas stood on the platform and stretched his arms, his back aching slightly from the long train ride. Just then somebody behind him bumped into his side and one of the trunks, knocking it over.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-.." he heard the voice of a young girl next to him and turned to face her.
It was a girl about his age, maybe slightly younger, with red hair in two braids and a distracted look on her face. She helped him pick up his trunk, quickly apologised again and set off towards the station, hardly acknowledging him.
He shrugged, taking hold of his travelling coffers and dragging them around to the front of the station, where his father was already waiting next to a horse and a wagon, an impatient expression on his face.
After loading the luggage in the back, Thomas' father grabbed the reins and they both set off.
The ride was awfully quiet besides the occasional distant bark of a dog or moo of a cow in a nearby field. They had been riding for well over 6 miles before Thomas' father finally spoke up.
"Not far now," he rubbed the back of his head, a weird habit he had "Avonlea this place is called."
Thomas responded with a disinterested grunt, staring off into the distance.
"There's a small manor by the creek there," his father continued "it's seen better days, used to be my uncles before he.. well.. ".
He came to a pause, glancing towards his son. "What's the matter with you, eh?" he inquired.
Thomas turned to his father with a blank look on his face, "Seriously?" His voice carried disdain.
The older man scowled, raising his voice ever so slightly "Don't you start again! You know very well there is no other choice."
Thomas sighed "You're right, I know. Apologies, father." He felt his gaze starting to wander again. This place wasn't much to look at, open fields of green grass as far as the eye could see with the occasional patch of trees. Every so often you'd see an outline of yet another farmhouse in the distance. But it was quiet. Thomas liked quiet.
It wasn't long before they had arrived at this so-called Avonlea. It was a small village, mainly consisting of farms. The air held a certain tranquillity. They passed by several households, his father giving brief information about each of them, which Thomas hardly listened to. Where did he know all this from anyway?
Once they reached a small forest, they took a turn following a small creek along the edge of trees. Before long Thomas could see a homestead in front, tucked away in a curved clearing of the trees on a slight incline. The manor wasn't very large, but larger than most homes they had passed earlier. It was a bit worn, some of the white paint peeling off the boards. There was another structure on the side which resembled an old stable.
Thomas's father stopped the wagon at the front of the house, getting off with great difficulty. Thomas followed and they both stepped inside the manor.
After a small front room there was a large, open kitchen with a hearth on one side. It was evident the place had not been inhabited in some time, there was a thin layer of dust atop all the surfaces. A draft was coming from somewhere and Thomas shivered ever so slightly. Off to the right was a stairwell that led upstairs.
"Right, take our belongings inside and pick a room," his father spoke after seating himself by the kitchen table "There's lots to do.''.
Thomas brought the luggage inside and headed up the stairs, counting the steps. Twenty one, the nineteenth one was creaky. He ended up in a hallway going both ways with numerous doors. One by one he explored the rooms and settled on the corner room that provided a view to the both front and side of the house where the stable was. Also it had the nicest looking bed. He set his trunk at the foot of it and opened it, but before could begin unpacking his things, he heard a rapid patter on the door.
His father came in and after a quick look around the room, settled his eyes on his son.
"In a few days, you will return to Charlottetown for a time to carry out some errands" he spoke.
"What? Why?" Thomas questioned.
"Because it is necessary and I have matters to attend to here. Do not question it." his fathers reply was less than satisfactory.
Thomas slumped on the bed, looking defeated.
"Moreover," his father continued "after you have finished your tasks and returned, you will attend the local school."
Thomas raised an eyebrow "Any particular reason why?" He had been in and out of schools in his old home, mainly relying on homeschooling that was provided to him, so the idea of attending a middle of nowhere school wasn't thrilling.
"Because the less suspicions we raise, the better, wouldn't you agree?" his father gave Thomas a stern look.
"Yes, father," he knew arguing was pointless.
"Good. You'll need to step up. I wish it were otherwise, but.." his father glanced at his crippled leg "-you know the road ahead won't be easy."
It could have been a question, or a statement. Thomas didn't care, he was gazing out the window, watching the creek slowly flowing along the treeline and bending around the back of the house, lost in thought. When he turned back around, his father had already gone.
When he was done unpacking his belongings he decided to explore the rest of the property. After taking some time to walk the grounds, he approached the stable. Despite it looking older than the manor, it was in really good condition, built sturdy and proper. Inside there was space for several horses and even what looked like a workshop on the far end.
He continued exploring the area and finally arrived at the creek by the edge of the property. Most of the surface was covered in rocks and stones, but the water looked very clear and refreshing. Having worked up a sweat during the day, Thomas felt drawn to the cold water. He undressed down to his undergarments and stepped in the creek. The water was icy cold despite the warm weather, but he didn't even flinch. He slowly waded through the water, until finally finding a spot deep enough to reach his waist.
He took a breath, submerging himself in the water entirely, relaxing his body. After a few seconds he resurfaced, brushing his hair out of his face. His eyes settled on the water's surface, the water was like a mirror and he could see himself very clearly.
Thomas had a fair complexion with trace amounts of freckles under his eyes and along his nose. His dirty blonde hair was slightly tousled and strands of it fell over his forehead. His overall youthful appearance was tempered by his intense, focused, blue eyes that seemed to hold maturity beyond his years.
He looked exhausted to the point he could hardly recognize himself. The past few months had not been easy. His pondering was interrupted by his fathers voice, calling for him from the house. Thomas let out a long sigh and stepped out of the water, getting himself dressed quickly and headed toward his new home.