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Description
March 22, 1811; New York City, New York

After leaving her horse in a caretaker’s hands, Aveza made her way through the city. She'd heard a lot about the place. She'd heard plenty of stories from Connor, her mother, and her father. She'd heard the stories of revolution, of great fires, and other tales to astonish. Connor always loved telling Aveza of his old adventures, like how he got arrested in the city once and barely escaped a hanging before killing the Templar, Thomas Hickey. Aveza never got tired of hearing his tales. They were always a lot of fun to hear.

Aveza looked around the streets as she walked through them. She was looking for the base of operations of the New York Assassins, a small inn called the “Angel's Wing”. But she found it a bit more difficult than she expected it to be. And so, she figured, she needed to get a better vantage point and survey the city. She looked around a bit more until she came across a building she recognized as the Trinity Church, the tallest building in the city. “This'll do,” she said to herself, and then she began her climb.

All the nooks and crannies of the building made it relatively easy to scale, and so Aveza reached the top pretty quickly. When she did, she stood up tall on the top of the spire, spreading her arms for balance. As the wind blew through her robes, she took a long, sweeping look at the bustling city of New York. Soon enough, her eyes fell upon the inn she was looking for. She smiled and mapped a route in her head. And then she shifted her focus on how to get down. Below her, she noticed a cart of hay that someone had placed near the church. She did a little math in her head and decided that she could just land in that if she jumped properly.

She stood straight, judging her weight and trajectory. She closed her eyes and spread her arms wide. The wind blew through her hair at the top of the church. An eagle cried somewhere in the distance, and she took her leap of faith.

She fell for a few seconds, hoping she judged her calculations correctly. And sure enough, she had. She landed in the hay with a crash. She had the wind knocked out of her for a moment, but overall, she was fine. She took a moment to recover her bearings before jumping out of the hay and making her way to the inn.

She arrived at the Assassin base in no time. She walked in, and looked for the woman that Connor had instructed her to find: an Assassin named Dobby Carter. She eventually found someone who matched the description. She was sitting at one of the pub’s tables. She was old, probably in her mid-seventies, with grey hair and a leather coat. She looked over with her surprisingly young eyes at Aveza as she approached.

“Deborah Carter?” asked Aveza.

“Maybe,” said the woman in her Irish accent, not impolitely.

“My name is Aveza Deryn.”

Suddenly, the woman's face lit up. “Oh! You're the girl Connor was going on about,” she said. She reached her hand out to be shaken, an offer that Aveza accepted. “Then I am indeed Dobby Carter,” she continued. “What can I do for ya, lass?”

Aveza smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Carter. Connor sent me here on a mission to spy on the local Templars. I was told that you'd be able to help me.”

“Of course, lass. Anything to keep those Templar dogs out of the people's hair.”

“So, what's our plan then?”

Dobby stood from her chair and motioned for Aveza to follow, which she did. The two made their way to the stairs that led to the basement of the tavern, and started walking down. Dobby lit lanterns as they went.

“Templars have been scurrying around this city for years,” said Dobby as they walked. “Hell, scurrying around the country. Setting up their little bases, whispering in politicians’ ears. As you can imagine, we like to keep an eye on their plans.”

They reached the basement, which was littered with Assassin gear and papers everywhere. Dobby walked over to the large table in the middle of the room. She quickly cleared off everything on it and spun the top of the table around, revealing a scale model of New York City on the underside.

“That's why we have things like these,” said Dobby. “It helps us keep track of where the rats scurry to.”

“Impressive,” said Aveza. Dobby just smiled. She pointed to one of the buildings on the model, a large mansion by the shoreline. “The Templars tend to gather here in Fort Arsenal when they have big things to discuss. It's their Grand Master, Shay Cormac’s old place.”

“Shay Cormac? Is he here in the city by any chance?”

“Our spies haven't said otherwise, but Lord knows that man is slippery.”

“Indeed.”

Shay Cormac. Aveza heard all about him from the other Assassins, especially Connor. He was a former Assassin during the Seven Years War, but betrayed the Brotherhood and became a master Templar. He slaughtered the Colonial Assassins, even those who used to be his best friends. He rose through the ranks, and became the ultimate Assassin hunter. And once Connor rebuilt the Colonial Brotherhood and killed the previous Grand Masters, Haytham Kenway and Charles Lee, Shay was left to take over the role. He was a dangerous man to be kept alive.

Aveza studied the map a bit, planning the quickest course to Shay’s mansion in Fort Arsenal. Once she was satisfied, she nodded and looked at Dobby.

“I believe I know what I'll do,” she said.

“That so, lass?” responded Dobby.

“Yes. I'll find the Templars, lurk in the shadows to find out their plans, and take action should the need arise.”

Dobby nodded in approval.

“Well, alrighty then, lass,” she said. “Don't let me keep you then. Go on.”

Aveza smiled. “Thank you for your help, Ms. Carter.”

Dobby smiled back. “No problem, lass. And please, call me Dobby.”

Aveza smiled and nodded. She made her way up the stairs. She exited the inn, and then started making her way to the Templar mansion.

------------

Aveza found it surprisingly easy to infiltrate Fort Arsenal’s walls. There was a lot less security than she had imagined there would be. Then again, after hearing all the stories about Shay Cormac, perhaps the reason was that he didn't need that much security…

Aveza shook the thought out though. She didn't want any rogue fears interfering with her mission. She scurried her way up the wall of the mansion and found a window peering into what seemed to be the Templar meeting room. And thankfully, it was opened up a small bit. She smiled at her luck. She'd be able to hear their conversations easily. She peeked inside to get a look at her enemies.

Or rather, it seemed, her single enemy. At the end of the large desk was an old man, probably in his early eighties, with silver hair, spectacles, and the regal robes of a Templar Grand Master. A huge, old scar ran across his right eye. Aveza could tell right away, this was Shay Cormac. To her surprise though, he didn't seem like the tough, collected, determined man she'd heard of. Rather, he looked a bit distracted, slouched, and maybe even depressed. He looked like a man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and was constantly debating with himself whether he'd have the strength to carry it or not. Still, Aveza kept her guard up.

Suddenly, the door knocked, and Shay looked up. “Coming,” he said with his weathered voice. He grabbed his cane and carefully got up from his seat. He walked over to the door with a limp, and opened it. Aveza watched as he welcomed in his guests, his fellow Templars. Several men walked in, each greeting Shay in their own way. They all took their seats at the table to begin their meeting. Aveza tuned her ears to listen.

“Alright,” said Shay. “I suppose it's a good idea to start off this meeting with reports of our recent actions… and those of the enemy. Why don't you start, Master Jackson?”

One of the Templars stood up, a tall, fit man, probably in his mid forties. His uniform and his posture indicated his years of military experience. Aveza recognized him. Andrew Jackson. He was a brutal man, slaughtered hundreds of innocent Native Americans in his time. He was quite high up on the Assassins’ hit list.

“Thank you, Grand Master,” said Jackson, though not with a very respectful tone. He almost seemed bored by the fact that he was there. “I'm pleased to inform you that we've achieved another victory in the south.”

“That so?” asked Shay.

“Indeed. Back in January, the Assassins had aided a slave named Charles Deslondes in leading a revolt against their superiors. We lost two men in the fight, but we still managed to put our enemies down.”

Shay nodded slightly. “Good. Good,” he said. “It’s unfortunate that these slaves must toil and suffer as they do, but it's a necessary sacrifice to sustain the stability of this nation.”

Aveza couldn't help but scowl at what she was hearing.

“Masters Harrison and Daveiss,” continued Shay, indicating two other men at the table as Jackson sat down. “What news do you have?”

Harrison and Daveiss stood. Aveza recognized Harrison immediately as well. William Henry Harrison. A man not quite as ruthless as Jackson, but still just as eager to slaughter innocent Natives. The other man, Daveiss, she recognized as well, though she didn't know too much about him. She knew his full name was Joseph Hamilton Daveiss and that he aided Harrison in his slaughtering sprees, but that's about all she knew.

“It's tough, Grand Master,” said Harrison. “I'm not going to lie. The Assassins have a strong hold on the frontier, especially that nuisance, Tecumseh. I swear, that man is the root of all our issues. If I could just get the chance to fire a musket ball into his skull…”

“Patience, General Harrison,” said Daveiss. “We will get our chance. One day, we will finally put the Assassins and their wretched Creed to an end.”

Aveza couldn't help but notice Shay’s expression shift a bit, like he'd just tasted a drop of something unpleasant, but the face faded away as soon as it formed.

“I hope so, Daveiss. I hope so.” The two sat down.

“And you, Master Clinton?” asked Shay to the last man, who stood like the others. Aveza recognized him too. George Clinton, the fourth vice president of the United States. A powerful man who the Templars used to whisper in the ears of the people in the White House.

“Our British brothers have continued to find our deserters aboard several American ships,” he said. “And many of them have been returned to the Order and dealt with appropriately.” He gave an uncomfortable pause.

“But?” prompted Shay.

“Well you see, Grand Master,” continued Clinton, “The Americans have also continued to resist the British taking the runaways. They call it ‘impressment’ of all things.”

Shay put his finger on his chin as he pondered something.

“That certainly is an issue,” he said, “especially if their resistance continues to grow.”

“We've got agents all along the coast,” said Clinton. “I assure you, they're working their hardest to keep our plans running smoothly.”

Suddenly, there was a frantic knocking at the door.

“Come in,” called Shay. Then, a man came barging in, out of breath. He looked at Clinton.

“Master Clinton!” said the man. “I'm so sorry to interrupt, but we had just been informed that our men have managed to corner the Aquila on the east side of the city! Our agents are going in to take it over.”

Aveza's eyes widened. The Aquila was the Assassins’ head flagship, the one that Connor himself had captained through countless naval battles during the American Revolution years before. That ship was extremely valuable to the Assassins. And if the Templars were about to take it…

“Oh no…” Aveza said under her breath. She had to do something. She knew she had to. She made up her mind. But, just as she was about to climb down, a voice shouted in her direction.

“Oi! You! Assassin!”

Aveza swore under her breath as the guard's musket ball went soaring past her head. “Bullocks!” she said as she leapt from the wall and onto the nearest tree branch.

She swung up onto the branch and sloppily navigated trees of the fort as more and more guards alerted each other of her presence. Bullets pierced the air around her as she ran. The guards yelled threats in her direction.

“Get back here you bloody mongrel!” one shouted.

“Oh no thanks,” Aveza called behind her. “I think I'm good for now.” She kept running. She was almost out. She leapt off of the last tree. She landed on the edge of the fort’s walls. She smiled as she was about to escape. But then…

BANG!

The metal ball slid across her shoulder just as she was making her jump over the wall. She yelled in pain and fell ungracefully to the ground with a thud. She rolled a bit across the ground before finally stopping. She painfully got up and looked at the splatters of mud, blood, and plant matter on her outfit.

“Oh bullocks,” she said. “This'll take weeks to get out!” She examined the stains for a short moment, but she was interrupted when she heard more gunshots and shouting behind her. She didn't hesitate. She took off away from the fort and back into the city, holding her shoulder in pain as she went. Once she was finally in the clear, she sighed in relief and sat down on a nearby bench. She clutched her wounded shoulder, and laughed painfully about her victory escape.

“Well, you look like you just got dragged through the worse part of the wetlands,” said a familiar voice in front of her. Aveza looked up, and smiled at the sight of Dobby Carter.

“Well,” she said to the older Assassin, “you know. It happens.”

Dobby laughed at that. She noticed the wound on Aveza's shoulder, and became concerned. “You should probably be headin’ to a doctor, lass,” she said.

Aveza pulled some old bandages out of her belt pouch and shook her head. “I can't right now,” she said as she bandaged her gunshot wound. “The Templars, I overheard them saying that their men were about to attack the Aquila over on the east side of town. I've got to go help.”

“Dearie, look at yourself, you're not fit for a fight.”

“I've had worse.”

“It'd be really reckless goin’ in like that.”

“Well then I'll go in the best way I know how.”

“Oh? And how's that, lass?”

Aveza looked up at Dobby with a smile as she finished bandaging herself up and smiled. “Guns blazing,” she said.

Dobby looked at Aveza, and then bowed her head and smiled in defeat. She sighed. “Well, it seems you're set on it,” she said. “I guess there ain't no stoppin’ ya. Go on then. Just be safe.”

Aveza smiled at Dobby, who smiled back. Aveza stood from the bench, said goodbye to Dobby, and then set off to find the Assassin flagship.

------------

It didn't take too long to find it. The ship was docked in the harbor right in the middle of the ship's east coast, set out a bit in the water.

Aveza managed to secure a rowboat to row out the short distance to the ship. The closer she got, the more she could hear the sounds of combat on board. And unfortunately, it sounded like the Assassins were losing the fight. But Aveza wouldn't have that be the case for long. She reached the boat, got off her vessel, and started climbing the hull of the Aquila.

A British naval officer went flying over the side of the ship past her, but she climbed on. She eventually managed to haul herself over the edge and onto the deck. She pulled out her tomahawk and painfully swung it into the nearest guard, who fell with a shout. By then, the Templars had turned to face her along with their other enemies. A group of guards started swinging their swords at her, she countered their blows and managed to fell two of them, but the other two were strong.

Aveza blocked as best she could, but her shoulder worsened with each swing. She felt herself loosing blood. She was starting to loose balance. One of the guards used that against her and knocked her tomahawk from her hands. Aveza fell against the edge of the ship, trying desperately to fight off the dizziness. The Templars drew closer, and closer, swords raised. They were about to deliver a killing blow, when suddenly…

“Incoming!”

The guards barely had time to react before a man in a white coat came crashing down on them and drove his hidden blades into their necks. They fell with a thud and the man turned to Aveza.

“You okay, ma'am?” he asked.

Aveza looked up at him with heavy eyes. She wasn't feeling too good. “I'm… I'm fine…” she said, trying to regain balance. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don't thank me yet. This fight’s not yet won.” Suddenly, more guards came bearing down on the man. The man spun around and sliced them both with his rapier.

Aveza wobbled upwards. Blood poured out of her wound. The bandages did what they could, but…

She shook her head. She needed to fight. She flicked out her hidden blades. She managed to wound several enemies, but she kept slowing down. She was able to see that the Aquila’s crew was gaining the upper hand, though. She fought for as long as she could, helping the man and his allies beat the Templars.

And then, just as she thought she couldn't do anymore, the last enemy finally fell. The crew cheered as they celebrated their victory. Aveza gave a weak smile as she looked at her bloodstained sleeve. The Assassin from earlier came over to her, grinning happily.

“We've won, my dear!” he cheered.

Aveza gave him a weak smile. “Indeed,” she said. “We… sure did…” Then she suddenly felt herself falling onto the deck of the ship. And everything went black…

------------

March 22, 1811; East Coast

Aveza started opening her eyes as the soft waves under the ship rocked the boat. She rubbed her head as she tried to get up from where she was laying. She winced in pain as her shoulder burned.

“I wouldn't move around to much if I were you,” a voice said nearby. “That wound of yours isn't healed up well enough yet.”

Aveza turned her head to see her ally from earlier. He was sitting in a chair at a large desk nearby.

“What happened?” asked Aveza groggily.

“Well,” said the man, “you took a real beating during the fight with the Templars. And you lost a lot of blood from that wound on your shoulder. You passed out after the fight, so I had my men bring you here in the captain's quarters so that you could be properly stitched up and healed.”

Aveza rubbed her head as she recalled the fight. She looked around the room. It was relatively small and littered with maps and Assassin trinkets. A bunch of paintings, a bunch of books, a bunch of knickknacks, etc. She saw her boots next to her bed and all her weapons on the table in front of her bed. She examined her arm again.

“Judging by your robes, insignia, and your apparent eagerness for Templar blood, I'd assume you're a member of the Brotherhood like us?” said the man.

“Indeed,” said Aveza. She sat up as much as she could and smiled weakly as she introduced herself.

“I'm Aveza Deryn,” she said. “From York.”

The man smiled back. He stood and walked over to her to carefully shake her hand. “Arnold Bellamy,” he said. “From London. At your service.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bellamy.”

“You can call me Arnold, my dear. No problem.”

Aveza chuckled a bit. “Very well,” she said. “But only if you call me Aveza instead of ‘my dear’.”

Arnold smiled and laughed. “As you wish, Aveza.” Aveza laughed with him, and then winced in pain again as she moved her arm.

“Don't worry,” said Arnold. “Once we get back to the Davenport Homestead, we'll be able to properly stitch you up. Just a few hours worth of travel before we get there.”

Aveza's eyes widened and she sat up quickly but painfully. “Wait,” she said. “We're at sea?”

“Well yes. Of course. We had to cast off before more Templars came to attack us. And we couldn't just sit there in the harbor with you in this condition. Is something wrong?”

Aveza sat back down a bit. She'd wished she'd gotten to stay in New York a bit longer. She'd accomplished her mission, she guessed. She figured out what the Templars were plotting and stopped it. But still… She wished the mission hadn't ended in such a rough manner.

“No,” she said. “Nothing wrong. I just didn't get a chance to say goodbye to our brothers in New York.”

Arnold nodded. “Ah. I see,” he said. “Well, don't worry Aveza. We can have a letter sent to them once we're back in Massachusetts and you're up to writing.”

“Thank you, Arnold,” said Aveza with a smile. Arnold smiled back. “Oh, no problem, my dear. Now, you stay here and rest. I have to go pilot this ship back home. Tell you what, old Connor's going to be real happy to see his old vessel again. He always gets a kick out of this ship. Farewell!”

“Goodbye.”

Arnold left the captain's quarters and left Aveza to recover. She laid back and sighed. Her mission could've gone better. Oh well. At least she made it out alive and made some new friends in the process. That was always a positive. She decided that her victories outweighed her stumbles, and let her head sink into her pillow as she relaxed. The gentle waves of the Atlantic rocked the room peacefully, and they eventually lulled Aveza back to sleep.

Description
March 22, 1811; New York City, New York

After leaving her horse in a caretaker’s hands, Aveza made her way through the city. She'd heard a lot about the place. She'd heard plenty of stories from Connor, her mother, and her father. She'd heard the stories of revolution, of great fires, and other tales to astonish. Connor always loved telling Aveza of his old adventures, like how he got arrested in the city once and barely escaped a hanging before killing the Templar, Thomas Hickey. Aveza never got tired of hearing his tales. They were always a lot of fun to hear.

Aveza looked around the streets as she walked through them. She was looking for the base of operations of the New York Assassins, a small inn called the “Angel's Wing”. But she found it a bit more difficult than she expected it to be. And so, she figured, she needed to get a better vantage point and survey the city. She looked around a bit more until she came across a building she recognized as the Trinity Church, the tallest building in the city. “This'll do,” she said to herself, and then she began her climb.

All the nooks and crannies of the building made it relatively easy to scale, and so Aveza reached the top pretty quickly. When she did, she stood up tall on the top of the spire, spreading her arms for balance. As the wind blew through her robes, she took a long, sweeping look at the bustling city of New York. Soon enough, her eyes fell upon the inn she was looking for. She smiled and mapped a route in her head. And then she shifted her focus on how to get down. Below her, she noticed a cart of hay that someone had placed near the church. She did a little math in her head and decided that she could just land in that if she jumped properly.

She stood straight, judging her weight and trajectory. She closed her eyes and spread her arms wide. The wind blew through her hair at the top of the church. An eagle cried somewhere in the distance, and she took her leap of faith.

She fell for a few seconds, hoping she judged her calculations correctly. And sure enough, she had. She landed in the hay with a crash. She had the wind knocked out of her for a moment, but overall, she was fine. She took a moment to recover her bearings before jumping out of the hay and making her way to the inn.

She arrived at the Assassin base in no time. She walked in, and looked for the woman that Connor had instructed her to find: an Assassin named Dobby Carter. She eventually found someone who matched the description. She was sitting at one of the pub’s tables. She was old, probably in her mid-seventies, with grey hair and a leather coat. She looked over with her surprisingly young eyes at Aveza as she approached.

“Deborah Carter?” asked Aveza.

“Maybe,” said the woman in her Irish accent, not impolitely.

“My name is Aveza Deryn.”

Suddenly, the woman's face lit up. “Oh! You're the girl Connor was going on about,” she said. She reached her hand out to be shaken, an offer that Aveza accepted. “Then I am indeed Dobby Carter,” she continued. “What can I do for ya, lass?”

Aveza smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Carter. Connor sent me here on a mission to spy on the local Templars. I was told that you'd be able to help me.”

“Of course, lass. Anything to keep those Templar dogs out of the people's hair.”

“So, what's our plan then?”

Dobby stood from her chair and motioned for Aveza to follow, which she did. The two made their way to the stairs that led to the basement of the tavern, and started walking down. Dobby lit lanterns as they went.

“Templars have been scurrying around this city for years,” said Dobby as they walked. “Hell, scurrying around the country. Setting up their little bases, whispering in politicians’ ears. As you can imagine, we like to keep an eye on their plans.”

They reached the basement, which was littered with Assassin gear and papers everywhere. Dobby walked over to the large table in the middle of the room. She quickly cleared off everything on it and spun the top of the table around, revealing a scale model of New York City on the underside.

“That's why we have things like these,” said Dobby. “It helps us keep track of where the rats scurry to.”

“Impressive,” said Aveza. Dobby just smiled. She pointed to one of the buildings on the model, a large mansion by the shoreline. “The Templars tend to gather here in Fort Arsenal when they have big things to discuss. It's their Grand Master, Shay Cormac’s old place.”

“Shay Cormac? Is he here in the city by any chance?”

“Our spies haven't said otherwise, but Lord knows that man is slippery.”

“Indeed.”

Shay Cormac. Aveza heard all about him from the other Assassins, especially Connor. He was a former Assassin during the Seven Years War, but betrayed the Brotherhood and became a master Templar. He slaughtered the Colonial Assassins, even those who used to be his best friends. He rose through the ranks, and became the ultimate Assassin hunter. And once Connor rebuilt the Colonial Brotherhood and killed the previous Grand Masters, Haytham Kenway and Charles Lee, Shay was left to take over the role. He was a dangerous man to be kept alive.

Aveza studied the map a bit, planning the quickest course to Shay’s mansion in Fort Arsenal. Once she was satisfied, she nodded and looked at Dobby.

“I believe I know what I'll do,” she said.

“That so, lass?” responded Dobby.

“Yes. I'll find the Templars, lurk in the shadows to find out their plans, and take action should the need arise.”

Dobby nodded in approval.

“Well, alrighty then, lass,” she said. “Don't let me keep you then. Go on.”

Aveza smiled. “Thank you for your help, Ms. Carter.”

Dobby smiled back. “No problem, lass. And please, call me Dobby.”

Aveza smiled and nodded. She made her way up the stairs. She exited the inn, and then started making her way to the Templar mansion.

------------

Aveza found it surprisingly easy to infiltrate Fort Arsenal’s walls. There was a lot less security than she had imagined there would be. Then again, after hearing all the stories about Shay Cormac, perhaps the reason was that he didn't need that much security…

Aveza shook the thought out though. She didn't want any rogue fears interfering with her mission. She scurried her way up the wall of the mansion and found a window peering into what seemed to be the Templar meeting room. And thankfully, it was opened up a small bit. She smiled at her luck. She'd be able to hear their conversations easily. She peeked inside to get a look at her enemies.

Or rather, it seemed, her single enemy. At the end of the large desk was an old man, probably in his early eighties, with silver hair, spectacles, and the regal robes of a Templar Grand Master. A huge, old scar ran across his right eye. Aveza could tell right away, this was Shay Cormac. To her surprise though, he didn't seem like the tough, collected, determined man she'd heard of. Rather, he looked a bit distracted, slouched, and maybe even depressed. He looked like a man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and was constantly debating with himself whether he'd have the strength to carry it or not. Still, Aveza kept her guard up.

Suddenly, the door knocked, and Shay looked up. “Coming,” he said with his weathered voice. He grabbed his cane and carefully got up from his seat. He walked over to the door with a limp, and opened it. Aveza watched as he welcomed in his guests, his fellow Templars. Several men walked in, each greeting Shay in their own way. They all took their seats at the table to begin their meeting. Aveza tuned her ears to listen.

“Alright,” said Shay. “I suppose it's a good idea to start off this meeting with reports of our recent actions… and those of the enemy. Why don't you start, Master Jackson?”

One of the Templars stood up, a tall, fit man, probably in his mid forties. His uniform and his posture indicated his years of military experience. Aveza recognized him. Andrew Jackson. He was a brutal man, slaughtered hundreds of innocent Native Americans in his time. He was quite high up on the Assassins’ hit list.

“Thank you, Grand Master,” said Jackson, though not with a very respectful tone. He almost seemed bored by the fact that he was there. “I'm pleased to inform you that we've achieved another victory in the south.”

“That so?” asked Shay.

“Indeed. Back in January, the Assassins had aided a slave named Charles Deslondes in leading a revolt against their superiors. We lost two men in the fight, but we still managed to put our enemies down.”

Shay nodded slightly. “Good. Good,” he said. “It’s unfortunate that these slaves must toil and suffer as they do, but it's a necessary sacrifice to sustain the stability of this nation.”

Aveza couldn't help but scowl at what she was hearing.

“Masters Harrison and Daveiss,” continued Shay, indicating two other men at the table as Jackson sat down. “What news do you have?”

Harrison and Daveiss stood. Aveza recognized Harrison immediately as well. William Henry Harrison. A man not quite as ruthless as Jackson, but still just as eager to slaughter innocent Natives. The other man, Daveiss, she recognized as well, though she didn't know too much about him. She knew his full name was Joseph Hamilton Daveiss and that he aided Harrison in his slaughtering sprees, but that's about all she knew.

“It's tough, Grand Master,” said Harrison. “I'm not going to lie. The Assassins have a strong hold on the frontier, especially that nuisance, Tecumseh. I swear, that man is the root of all our issues. If I could just get the chance to fire a musket ball into his skull…”

“Patience, General Harrison,” said Daveiss. “We will get our chance. One day, we will finally put the Assassins and their wretched Creed to an end.”

Aveza couldn't help but notice Shay’s expression shift a bit, like he'd just tasted a drop of something unpleasant, but the face faded away as soon as it formed.

“I hope so, Daveiss. I hope so.” The two sat down.

“And you, Master Clinton?” asked Shay to the last man, who stood like the others. Aveza recognized him too. George Clinton, the fourth vice president of the United States. A powerful man who the Templars used to whisper in the ears of the people in the White House.

“Our British brothers have continued to find our deserters aboard several American ships,” he said. “And many of them have been returned to the Order and dealt with appropriately.” He gave an uncomfortable pause.

“But?” prompted Shay.

“Well you see, Grand Master,” continued Clinton, “The Americans have also continued to resist the British taking the runaways. They call it ‘impressment’ of all things.”

Shay put his finger on his chin as he pondered something.

“That certainly is an issue,” he said, “especially if their resistance continues to grow.”

“We've got agents all along the coast,” said Clinton. “I assure you, they're working their hardest to keep our plans running smoothly.”

Suddenly, there was a frantic knocking at the door.

“Come in,” called Shay. Then, a man came barging in, out of breath. He looked at Clinton.

“Master Clinton!” said the man. “I'm so sorry to interrupt, but we had just been informed that our men have managed to corner the Aquila on the east side of the city! Our agents are going in to take it over.”

Aveza's eyes widened. The Aquila was the Assassins’ head flagship, the one that Connor himself had captained through countless naval battles during the American Revolution years before. That ship was extremely valuable to the Assassins. And if the Templars were about to take it…

“Oh no…” Aveza said under her breath. She had to do something. She knew she had to. She made up her mind. But, just as she was about to climb down, a voice shouted in her direction.

“Oi! You! Assassin!”

Aveza swore under her breath as the guard's musket ball went soaring past her head. “Bullocks!” she said as she leapt from the wall and onto the nearest tree branch.

She swung up onto the branch and sloppily navigated trees of the fort as more and more guards alerted each other of her presence. Bullets pierced the air around her as she ran. The guards yelled threats in her direction.

“Get back here you bloody mongrel!” one shouted.

“Oh no thanks,” Aveza called behind her. “I think I'm good for now.” She kept running. She was almost out. She leapt off of the last tree. She landed on the edge of the fort’s walls. She smiled as she was about to escape. But then…

BANG!

The metal ball slid across her shoulder just as she was making her jump over the wall. She yelled in pain and fell ungracefully to the ground with a thud. She rolled a bit across the ground before finally stopping. She painfully got up and looked at the splatters of mud, blood, and plant matter on her outfit.

“Oh bullocks,” she said. “This'll take weeks to get out!” She examined the stains for a short moment, but she was interrupted when she heard more gunshots and shouting behind her. She didn't hesitate. She took off away from the fort and back into the city, holding her shoulder in pain as she went. Once she was finally in the clear, she sighed in relief and sat down on a nearby bench. She clutched her wounded shoulder, and laughed painfully about her victory escape.

“Well, you look like you just got dragged through the worse part of the wetlands,” said a familiar voice in front of her. Aveza looked up, and smiled at the sight of Dobby Carter.

“Well,” she said to the older Assassin, “you know. It happens.”

Dobby laughed at that. She noticed the wound on Aveza's shoulder, and became concerned. “You should probably be headin’ to a doctor, lass,” she said.

Aveza pulled some old bandages out of her belt pouch and shook her head. “I can't right now,” she said as she bandaged her gunshot wound. “The Templars, I overheard them saying that their men were about to attack the Aquila over on the east side of town. I've got to go help.”

“Dearie, look at yourself, you're not fit for a fight.”

“I've had worse.”

“It'd be really reckless goin’ in like that.”

“Well then I'll go in the best way I know how.”

“Oh? And how's that, lass?”

Aveza looked up at Dobby with a smile as she finished bandaging herself up and smiled. “Guns blazing,” she said.

Dobby looked at Aveza, and then bowed her head and smiled in defeat. She sighed. “Well, it seems you're set on it,” she said. “I guess there ain't no stoppin’ ya. Go on then. Just be safe.”

Aveza smiled at Dobby, who smiled back. Aveza stood from the bench, said goodbye to Dobby, and then set off to find the Assassin flagship.

------------

It didn't take too long to find it. The ship was docked in the harbor right in the middle of the ship's east coast, set out a bit in the water.

Aveza managed to secure a rowboat to row out the short distance to the ship. The closer she got, the more she could hear the sounds of combat on board. And unfortunately, it sounded like the Assassins were losing the fight. But Aveza wouldn't have that be the case for long. She reached the boat, got off her vessel, and started climbing the hull of the Aquila.

A British naval officer went flying over the side of the ship past her, but she climbed on. She eventually managed to haul herself over the edge and onto the deck. She pulled out her tomahawk and painfully swung it into the nearest guard, who fell with a shout. By then, the Templars had turned to face her along with their other enemies. A group of guards started swinging their swords at her, she countered their blows and managed to fell two of them, but the other two were strong.

Aveza blocked as best she could, but her shoulder worsened with each swing. She felt herself loosing blood. She was starting to loose balance. One of the guards used that against her and knocked her tomahawk from her hands. Aveza fell against the edge of the ship, trying desperately to fight off the dizziness. The Templars drew closer, and closer, swords raised. They were about to deliver a killing blow, when suddenly…

“Incoming!”

The guards barely had time to react before a man in a white coat came crashing down on them and drove his hidden blades into their necks. They fell with a thud and the man turned to Aveza.

“You okay, ma'am?” he asked.

Aveza looked up at him with heavy eyes. She wasn't feeling too good. “I'm… I'm fine…” she said, trying to regain balance. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don't thank me yet. This fight’s not yet won.” Suddenly, more guards came bearing down on the man. The man spun around and sliced them both with his rapier.

Aveza wobbled upwards. Blood poured out of her wound. The bandages did what they could, but…

She shook her head. She needed to fight. She flicked out her hidden blades. She managed to wound several enemies, but she kept slowing down. She was able to see that the Aquila’s crew was gaining the upper hand, though. She fought for as long as she could, helping the man and his allies beat the Templars.

And then, just as she thought she couldn't do anymore, the last enemy finally fell. The crew cheered as they celebrated their victory. Aveza gave a weak smile as she looked at her bloodstained sleeve. The Assassin from earlier came over to her, grinning happily.

“We've won, my dear!” he cheered.

Aveza gave him a weak smile. “Indeed,” she said. “We… sure did…” Then she suddenly felt herself falling onto the deck of the ship. And everything went black…

------------

March 22, 1811; East Coast

Aveza started opening her eyes as the soft waves under the ship rocked the boat. She rubbed her head as she tried to get up from where she was laying. She winced in pain as her shoulder burned.

“I wouldn't move around to much if I were you,” a voice said nearby. “That wound of yours isn't healed up well enough yet.”

Aveza turned her head to see her ally from earlier. He was sitting in a chair at a large desk nearby.

“What happened?” asked Aveza groggily.

“Well,” said the man, “you took a real beating during the fight with the Templars. And you lost a lot of blood from that wound on your shoulder. You passed out after the fight, so I had my men bring you here in the captain's quarters so that you could be properly stitched up and healed.”

Aveza rubbed her head as she recalled the fight. She looked around the room. It was relatively small and littered with maps and Assassin trinkets. A bunch of paintings, a bunch of books, a bunch of knickknacks, etc. She saw her boots next to her bed and all her weapons on the table in front of her bed. She examined her arm again.

“Judging by your robes, insignia, and your apparent eagerness for Templar blood, I'd assume you're a member of the Brotherhood like us?” said the man.

“Indeed,” said Aveza. She sat up as much as she could and smiled weakly as she introduced herself.

“I'm Aveza Deryn,” she said. “From York.”

The man smiled back. He stood and walked over to her to carefully shake her hand. “Arnold Bellamy,” he said. “From London. At your service.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bellamy.”

“You can call me Arnold, my dear. No problem.”

Aveza chuckled a bit. “Very well,” she said. “But only if you call me Aveza instead of ‘my dear’.”

Arnold smiled and laughed. “As you wish, Aveza.” Aveza laughed with him, and then winced in pain again as she moved her arm.

“Don't worry,” said Arnold. “Once we get back to the Davenport Homestead, we'll be able to properly stitch you up. Just a few hours worth of travel before we get there.”

Aveza's eyes widened and she sat up quickly but painfully. “Wait,” she said. “We're at sea?”

“Well yes. Of course. We had to cast off before more Templars came to attack us. And we couldn't just sit there in the harbor with you in this condition. Is something wrong?”

Aveza sat back down a bit. She'd wished she'd gotten to stay in New York a bit longer. She'd accomplished her mission, she guessed. She figured out what the Templars were plotting and stopped it. But still… She wished the mission hadn't ended in such a rough manner.

“No,” she said. “Nothing wrong. I just didn't get a chance to say goodbye to our brothers in New York.”

Arnold nodded. “Ah. I see,” he said. “Well, don't worry Aveza. We can have a letter sent to them once we're back in Massachusetts and you're up to writing.”

“Thank you, Arnold,” said Aveza with a smile. Arnold smiled back. “Oh, no problem, my dear. Now, you stay here and rest. I have to go pilot this ship back home. Tell you what, old Connor's going to be real happy to see his old vessel again. He always gets a kick out of this ship. Farewell!”

“Goodbye.”

Arnold left the captain's quarters and left Aveza to recover. She laid back and sighed. Her mission could've gone better. Oh well. At least she made it out alive and made some new friends in the process. That was always a positive. She decided that her victories outweighed her stumbles, and let her head sink into her pillow as she relaxed. The gentle waves of the Atlantic rocked the room peacefully, and they eventually lulled Aveza back to sleep.