Strange Money, the Difference, and a Giant Coat
“You people have strange money.” I slip a few coins into my small leather pouch from the dead corpse lying at my feet.
Connor chuckles. “So does your time. You people use paper to buy things.”
I laugh as I walk towards Connor with some clean bandages in my hands. The idiot got stabbed in the arm with a bayonet and won’t stop bleeding. “Now hold still this time!” Connor has to pull off the top layer of his robes in order to roll up his sleeve.
“Why do you worry so much?” Connor asks as I begin to wrap the first few layers. “It is just a small cut.”
I stop what I’m doing and look up at him. “Small?” I first say quietly. “Small?! If he had gone an inch deeper, I would have to do a lot more than just a wrapping.”
Connor grins and this time can’t hide it.
There’s silence while I concentrate on wrapping Connor’s arm. Then I notice him watching me, and hear him chuckle.
I stop what I’m doing again and look up at him. “What?” I ask in my famous annoyed, sarcastic voice.
“Your face does something funny when you do that,” Connor says with a smirk.
I look back down again. “Do what?”
“Stare at something like that.”
I grin and look back up at Connor’s big golden brown eyes. “It’s called concentrating. You should try it sometime.”
Connor chuckles and shakes his head as he watches me tie off the bandages.
We ride together on horseback towards New York and arrive by nightfall.
“He’ll be by the docks,” I say to Connor as we blend into the crowd keeping our hoods down over our eyes. The crowd is full of sailors and colonists awaiting the arrival of a ship.
The night is cool and there’s a gentle breeze lifting the loose strands of blond and orange hair free from the braid draped down my right shoulder. There are thin clouds over head and a full moon high in the sky casting a silver glow across the high tide of the ocean. It’s a peaceful night for a not so peaceful scene.
“Where is he? We have been walking in circles for the last hour,” Connor sounds frustrated but at nobody in particular. He seems more frustrated at the situation.
“Evening, Connor. Riley. I see you two made it here in one piece.”
We both turn around to face Haytham.
Connor chuckles. “Recovered from your beating, then?” he asks. Oooooh good come back. I don’t try to hide my smile or my sniggers when Haytham narrows his eyes at his son. They are quite the pair.
Haytham continues on and slowly begins to walk towards the warehouses on the docks as he speaks. “Benjamin Church is holed up in an abandoned brewery on the waterfront. We should be done with this by sunrise.”
“Good,” Connor says. “We would like to have those supplies returned as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Haytham agrees with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “I wouldn’t want to keep you two from your lost cause.” He receives an eye roll from the both of us. “Come along then.” Haytham speaks to us as if we are two children he has to drag along with him without the whole hand-holding thing. “Follow me.”
The three of us scale a wall and silently hop from building to building to hopefully get to the brewery faster. And for an old man, Haytham is pretty light on his feet.
Then we come to the edge of a church steeple roof and Connor finally asks the question.
“Tell me something...” he asks Haytham.
“Hmmm?”
I stand behind Connor knowing where this conversation will go. This is important.
“You could have killed us when we first met – what stayed your hand?”
Haytham sighs before speaking. “Well, for one thing, her.” he points to me while I’m hiding behind Connor. “And also, curiosity. Any other questions?”
Connor looks down at his feet and then looks back at his father to ask, “What is it the Templars truly seek?”
Haytham seems to have this answer all planned out as if this were a question he knew he would answer someday. “Order. Purpose. Direction. No more than that. It's your lot that means to confound with this nonsense talk of freedom.” He glances at me once before looking back at Connor. “Time was, the Assassins professed a far more sensible goal, that of peace.”
“Freedom is peace,” Connor counters.
“Oh no,” Haytham warns. “It's an invitation to chaos. Only look at this little revolution your friends have started.” Haytham raises his voice slightly. “I have stood before the Continental Congress and listened to them stamp and shout. All in the name of liberty. But it is just noise.”
“And this is why you favor Lee?” Connor questions sounding just as annoyed.
“He understands the needs of this would-be nation far better than the jobbernowls who profess to represent it.” Profess? Who says that? Jobbernowl? God, Haytham is so proper. So… British. Sorry, that needed to be said. Need to find a way to break the tension and all.
Connor is silent for a moment as he tries to search for the right words to say. “It seems your tongue has tasted sour grapes. The people have made their choice – and it was Washington.”
“The people chose nothing,” Haytham snaps. “It was done by a group of privileged cowards seeking only to enrich themselves. They convened in private and made a decision that would benefit them. Oh, they might have dressed it up with pretty words, but that does not make it true.” Haytham is glaring at his son as the fierceness in his tone becomes stronger as he takes a few steps towards Connor. “The only difference, Connor – the only difference between myself and those you aid – is that I do not feign affection.”
The tension is unbearable between the two idiots. We jump silently to the next few roofs and chimneys. The only sounds heard are the scuffling of feet in the city below and the occasional taps of our feet landing on a hard surface.
Once we make it to the brewery, the three of us jump to the ground in an alleyway near the entrance.
“Hold a moment,” Haytham mutters to us putting his hand up. He peeks over the side of the wall to the men guarding the entrance and then sighs, frustrated. “Church, you clever bastard.”
“What is it?” Connor asks approaching his father.
“I was hoping I could wave you two past the guards, but he's replaced most of them with men I don't know.” Haytham sighs. “Hmmm. Well I should be able to pass without arousing suspicion. But you two…” he gestures to our clothes.
Haytham turns to walk towards the brewery without us until Connor and I stop him. “No,” Connor says grabbing Haytham’s arm. “We do this together or not at all.” I nod in agreement with him.
“Then what do you propose?” Haytham asks us as he turns to face Connor and me as Connor drops his hand.
“I will find a guard who is off duty and take his uniform,” Connor says.
“Just find me some guy’s coat, I can do without the rest,” I say and Connor nods to me.
“Very well,” Haytham agrees. “I will wait here with Riley.” He takes a seat on the ground against the brick wall.
“Of course you will,” Connor scoffs.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Haytham scoffs back at his son. “Would you like me to come along and hold your hand, perhaps? Provide kind words of encouragement?” Connor rolls his eyes as he turns away from the alley waving his hand off at his father.
I giggle as Connor walks off and Haytham rolls his eyes in annoyance. “You know, He’s not as bad as you make him out to be.” I take a seat on the opposite brick wall to Haytham as I speak.
Haytham glances at me. “And you’re not as annoying as I make you out to be.”
I chuckle. “Okay, I admit it; I’m only annoying for you. But come on, you gotta admit, your son is just like you. You’re just too stubborn to allow yourself to see it.”
Haytham is silent for a moment. But then he looks at me and says, “What makes you so sure of that?”
“Because, I’ve seen it both ways,” I reply. “In time, you will realize that you do truly care about him and him the same. And how you’re also letting your arrogance cloud your judgment.”
“Maybe I am,” Haytham says slowly. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
I groan. “You’re as stubborn as your son and his mother,” I mutter.
Haytham chuckles as he looks at me. "It never ceases to amaze me, how much differenceyou make in everything that has happened."
"Sometimes I wonder why I'm still here," I say as I play with the green amulet around my neck.
I hear a soft chuckle from Haytham. Then he speaks again. “Tell me something.”
“Hmmm.”
“What will become of us? Of this war? Of the Assassins and Templars?”
I wish with all my heart to tell him. But how can I? There’s too much at stake and I’ve already screwed up history as it is by coming here. There’s no way he can know anything that happens later on. I open my mouth to say something when we hear footsteps coming closer to us.
Haytham and I get to our feet and approach Connor who looks incredibly ridiculous in his guard uniform. I have a hard time hiding my grins and giggles.
“That should suffice,” Haytham says adjusting Connor’s coat slightly like a real father would. It’s adorable.
Connor walks up and hands me a long brown coat and a hat.
“Thanks,” I say with a small smile as I strip out of my Assassin robes. I stand there in my boots, jeans, and a thin white V-neck long shirt over my black tank top that I wear under my robes. Connor holds my things as I ease myself into the coat and then realize that it’s huge on me. The sleeves are several inches past my fingertips, the length of the coat goes past mid-calf so I look like a little kid playing dress-up.
Connor grins at me as he places the ugly hat on my blond and rainbow head. Even Haytham grins a bit at my appearance. “Very funny,” I mutter.
Haytham clears his throat and goes back to his proper serious self. “Come along, then,” he says turning on his heel and walking towards the guard in front the entrance to the brewery. Connor and I stash our robes in an empty crate nearby and leave our bows and arrows in a garden behind a house. I hide behind Connor as we approach the doors.
“Hold strangers!” The guard says to us. “You tread on private property. What business have you here?”
“The Father of Understanding guides us,” Haytham says simply. Templar code.
“You I recognize,” the guard says to him. “Not the savage. Or the… kid?” he glances at me.
Really? Am I really that small? That short? “Close enough,” I mutter.
“The girl, in training,” Haytham replies. “And the boy, he’s my son.”
The guard leans forward slightly and asks Haytham, “Tasted of the forest's fruits, did you?” he has an evil annoying grin plastered to his face which makes Connor tense and me grit my teeth. “Off you go, then.” He motions for us to move with his musket after knocking twice on the door.
The three of us walk inside the brewery but not before Connor gives the guard the death glare.
We walk quietly though the hallways that are lined with boxes and barrels and carets filled with beer, whiskey, and who knows what else. The rooms and hallways are dimly lit by small lanterns scattered around the warehouse.
Just as always seen in my dreams and sketches, we come across a locked door.
Haytham tries to open it and finds it locked. “It’s locked,” he mutters. “Give me a moment.” He kneels down and pulls out his tools for picking locks.
Connor leans against the wall beside the door and I hop on top of a barrel next to him.
“Must be strange for you, discovering my existence as you have,” Connor says glancing at his father breaking the silence.
“I'm actually curious to know what your mother might have said about me,” Haytham responds. “I always wondered what life might have been like had she and I stayed together.” He rises out of his crouching position and faces his son. “How is she by the way?”
“Fine,” Connor mutters. “Much better if she could walk right."
“What do you mean?” Haytham asks confused.
I bite my thumbnail for this part.
“She was never the same after the fire that nearly killed her,” Connor says a bit more angrily. “Had it not been for me and another little girl, she would have burned alive.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Haytham says sadly looking down.
“Oh, you’re sorry?” Connor mocks with an immense amount of anger in his tone. Something he’s been holding back for a long time. “I found my mother burning alive. I’ll never forget her face when she tried to send me away. But a girl told me to stay and together, we pulled her out of that house and dragged her back. It’s a miracle she survived.” Connor’s voice becomes a bit shaky. “Charles Lee is responsible for this by your order. And you’re sorry?”
“That’s impossible,” Haytham says quickly. “I gave no such order. I spoke the opposite, in fact – I told them to give up the search for the Precursor Site. We were to focus on more practical pursuits...”
Connor pushes his father aside. “It is done and I am all out of forgiveness.”
I don’t bother to look at Haytham as I pass him and follow an angry Connor through the tall wooden door. We enter the main room of the brewery which is huge with countless barrels and boxes lining the all and scattered about the room there’s an upper loft where I know people are hiding waiting to shoot.
We come across a man in a long coat with a white powdered wig. He is meant to look like Benjamin Church, but I know he’s an impostor.
I stop and turn to look at Haytham and Connor. I place a finger to my lips to silence them. The both nod as I turn around and walk as silently as possible towards the impostor.
I press a knife to his throat and whisper, “Hello, Impostor. You have some information we need and I swear, if you try and call the ambush, I will slit your throat where you stand.”
“I-I’ll tell you what you want. Anything!” The impostor whines and whimpers. If only he knew I was standing painfully on my tip toes right now. “Only, promise that you’ll let me live.”
Then there’s a gunshot.
I jump and drop my knife and quickly look around to see where the gunshot came from. Haytham is holding a smoking gun at a dead guard who had his musket aimed at me. Remind me to thank him later.
“Now!” Impostor screams.
The ambush unfolds before my eyes and I panic. We are surrounded by several soldiers with loaded muskets and swords in hand. My hands immediately go to my back to pull off my bow and load an arrow. But there’s nothing there. Oh no, now I’m in trouble.
“You’re too late,” Impostor grins. “Church and the cargo are long gone. And I'm afraid you won't be in any condition to follow...”
“Guess again,” I say with a fearless grin as I unsheathe my hidden blades.
The fight breaks out. Blade on blade, bullet on body and several screams of pain.
Impostor shouts to us as we fight off his men. “We've chosen to stand with the victor.” He hides behind a line of guards like a coward. “It's Britain who'll win this war! You always did prefer principle to profit. Perhaps that's why your little kingdom's started to crumble!” I glance at Haytham and see the pure anger and hatred burn into his face as he drives his sword into an unfortunate guard’s gut. “It was a nice dream you had – but a dream is all it ever was... More of them!” Impostor screams for more guards.
I tumble to the side avoiding a bayonet in my chest and I bring my left blade into the guard’s back. Getting to my feet, I drive the other into his neck and watch him crumble to the ground.
Connor seems to be having no trouble at all with the guards. I see him bury his tomahawk into a guard’s back and while he’s bent over, Connor uses his gun to shoot another guard coming at him.
“Look at the half-breed fight! And the little kid!” Impostor mocks at Connor and I. “Like some feral dogs… best we put them, boys! All of them!” This makes my blood boil. I sure feel bad for the man I’m running towards me with a knife.
I flip the dead guard over my head and on top of his dead friend. Looking around, I realize we already finished off the guards.
Connor walks towards the whimpering Impostor and who is lying on the ground. He lifts him up by his shirt collar and asks, “Where is Church?”
“I-I’ll tell you anything you want.” He whimpers. “Only promise you won’t hurt me.” he trembles as he looks at me.
I glance at Haytham for some reason as Connor drops Impostor on the floor again. “You have my work,” he promises.
“He left yesterday for Martinique,” Impostor blurts out. “Took passage on a trading sloop called the Welcome. Loaded half its hold with the supplies he stole from the Patriots. That's all I know. I swear.” He keeps glancing at me as he speaks. I guess because I’m the one who put a knife to his throat.
But it’s not me he should be worrying about.
“Wait, Haytham-“I try to stop him from killing Impostor, but I’m too late.
Haytham is driving his knife into Impostor’s back before I can do anything.
“You promised…” then Impostor falls to the ground, dead.
“And he kept his word,” Haytham says down to the dead body. Connor glares at his father and opens his mouth to say something but Haytham stops him. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” I say quickly grabbing the idiots.
Suddenly, a group of men appears on the upper loft with their muskets aimed.
I drag the two idiots behind a few crates and we fall to the ground lowering ourselves just as the men fire.
There’s a huge and loud explosion as debris fly everywhere and the fire begins to spread.
Connor and Haytham get to their feet and begin to look for an exit. I glance at the group of men who fired. They’re running through an actual fire escape.
“We need to get out of here,” Connor says as Haytham climbs up to the loft.
“You don’t say,” Haytham and I say together.
Connor begins to climb up where Haytham did while I keep glancing at the fire escape.
“Riley, now is not the time for sight-seeing!” Haytham calls to me.
Then I look. And see the massive flaming ceiling coming down on top of me.
“RILEY!”