Rise (an Assassin's Creed 3 Fanfiction)

An Angry Chef, a Tea Party, and a Riot

“Stephane. Please. Stop and listen to us!” I shouted over the roar of the rioters. Connor followed close behind me as we followed the angry chef.

“I’ve listened for long enough!’ Stephane shouted back. “They come into my home and take my things? I will get my revenge. The man responsible for this will pay. His friends will pay! Voilà trop longtemps que je subis ces affronts ils vont goûter de mon courroux!” he raised his fists in the air as he continued to walk down the road in fury.

“What is his problem?” Connor askef me as we ran to catch up.

“’For too long I’ve suffered these indignities! They will feel my wrath!’” I said to Connor between heaves of breath. French men were fast when they were mad.

Connor grinned at my accent as we pushed people aside to keep close to Stephane.

Stephane walked up to a group of guards standing around in a circle talking until he came up and started cursing and screaming.

“You looking for a fight, Englishmen? I’ll give you what you want!” Stephane pulled out his butcher knife from behind where he had it tucked in the back of his belt.

“Dammit,” I muttered. “Connor, screw stealth, I’m going in.”

Connor and I climbed opposite buildings to watch down below to see what Stephane was going to do. I jumped from my ledge taking out two guards with my hidden blades before my feet hit the ground. Connor fired his gun into another as I pulled out the sword I stole on my first night here. It was a very nice short sword that fit me perfectly.

The last red coat came at me swinging his bayonet at me until I fell backwards. I caught myself before plunging my sword into the man’s heart. He shouted in pain before gurgling in his own blood that poured from his mouth and then went silent.

“Où que j'aille, l'Anglais croise mon chemin. Ils me volent ma maison, ils m'obligent à fuir mon pays. Et les voici qui veulent s'approprier ma NOUVELLE demeure!” Stephane shouted as he kicked a dead red coat at his feet.

Connor simply glances at me.

I giggled and said, “I cannot escape the English, no matter where I go. They kick me out of my home, I come here. Now they want to take my new home.”

“How do you know so much French?” Connor asked.

“In the futire, I took French in high school,” I said. “But I wasn't very good. So I guess when I got dumped here, the Apple enhanced it.”

Connor nodded. "Can you speak it?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

The two of us continued to follow Stephane as he walked along the road. I could tell he was cooling down a bit.

“There is a way to fight injustice!” Connor called out to Stephane. “But this is not it!”

Stephane waved off Connor’s words as we approached a scene I ha been seeing a lot lately in my dreams: a taxman being cruel to a colonist who did something wrong.

“Destroyed?! You stupid mongrel,” the taxman yelled at the man behind the food stand. “And I suppose you want me to tell Johnson his tea just spontaneously combusted! Nonsense! Someone’s responsible for this and you will find out who. And if you can’t, I’ll find a smarter mongrel who can.” I bit my lower lip as the taxman was grabbing the poor man by his shirt collar and thrusting him into the crates of food behind him.

“What do we do?” Stephane asked bringing my attention back to the boys beside me.

“Create a window,” Connor and I said together.