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Description
September 24, 1849; Bucktown, Maryland

Priscilla found herself on the same hill overlooking the Brodess plantation that she stood on months ago. Her torso had returned to its athletic form since June 15, when she gave birth to a bouncing baby boy whom she and Abraham had named William. But another major difference loomed over her: she was alone. Aveza wasn't at her side. She wasn't even in the same country.

Aveza had been called back to her homeland, to Canada. Political unrest had dragged her Mentor back into a fight that needed cleaning up. The local people were beginning to form a sort of national identity, one separate from the British Empire. Many were beginning to get fed up with the way the British had been treating them in recent years, and their grievances were bubbling out in violent ways. Canada's Parliamentary buildings were burnt to the ground back in April, and riots had stirred up in Bytown just this September. Aveza suspected the Templars likely had some involvement in it all, and now her hands were full. Priscilla was on her own now in America. And the job she had now would have to be done alone as well.

She snuck down into the plantation fields, hiding in the shadows of night, until she came upon the small, rotting structure that Brodess’s men dubbed the living space for their slaves. Priscilla quietly slipped inside, and used her Eagle Vision to track down the person she intended to meet up with.

She found her sitting on her bed in her room, watching the clouds roll past the stars as she dreamt a shattered dream. She was startled by Priscilla’s sudden appearance, and probably would've screamed if years of beatings hadn't instilled in her the instinct to stay quiet.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Priscilla whispered angrily.

Harriet stared back at her, her expression of fear shifting to one of sad regret. She lowered her head, and said nothing.

“We gave you all ample opportunity to get away from this wretched place, and yet you remain!” Priscilla said. “Why?”

“We tried, Mrs. Spainhower, we tried,” Harriet said. “Oh how we tried. My brothers and I made our run yesterday. We had been hired out to another household a few weeks ago, you see. And we knew Mrs. Brodess was goin’ to sell us soon. So we finally ran. But we were cowards. Mrs. Brodess put out wanted posters all across the county. My brothers lost hope they could make it out, and they turned right back to here. And when they lost hope… so did I…”

Priscilla could hardly believe her ears. “So all we did was for nothing then?” she said. “Nothing? Harriet, I killed a man so that you all could be free. How in God’s name could you just stay here like that?”

Harriet's head lowered further. “We've been made to see ourselves small, Mrs. Spainhower,” she said. “All our lives, we were treated like cattle. And the sad truth is that most all of us ended up believing it…”

“Do you believe it?”

That brought Harriet to silence. She stared at Priscilla for a moment before finally answering, “No. No ma'am I don't. I still think we have a chance. The way I see it, there are one of two things I have a right to: liberty or death; if I can not have one, I will have the other.”

Priscilla stared for a moment, then reached forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of bed. “Then we're leaving now,” she stated in such a way that made it clear it wasn't a suggestion.

“I can't, Mrs. Spainhower…”

“Well, to quote a friend of mine: ‘That's rubbish.’ You can and you will. We will. Tonight.”

“But the others…”

“They won't listen, and their hope is lost. But you can restore their hope, Harriet. Come with me and prove to them it can be done. And when they've been proven wrong, come back here and set them free too.”

“I… I…”

“You are their hope now, Harriet. Show them the light. Bring them to the promised land.”

Harriet looked into Priscilla’s pleading eyes, weighing her options every which way. She glanced at her, then into the halls, at the rotting rooms where her friends and family were forced to suffer in, prisoners not just of the slavers, but of their own minds as well. She looked at them, stifled her tears, and then turned back to Priscilla.

“Okay…” she said to her. “I'll get a quick message to my mother first, and then we can go…”

Priscilla couldn't have smiled wider.

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

September 28, 1849; Outside of Dover, Delaware

They took nothing with them from the plantation. They relied solely on Priscilla’s supplies and whatever they could scavenge as they travelled the long journey up north.

The Underground Railroad had been a proud accomplishment of the Assassins for decades now. It was hardly perfect, and they had their fair share of tragic failures along the lines, but hundreds of successful escapes well overshadowed the negative outcomes. Hundreds of good-willed people took part in running the routes: free and enslaved blacks, white abolitionists, Quakers, and of course several Assassins. They worked day and night to help escaped slaves reach lands where they could finally be free. Some routes were short runs to the nearest free state. Others went much farther, all the way to Canada, where Aveza would normally help take the reins and guide the slaves to freedom there.

But Priscilla knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to go that far this time round. Aveza was still busy dealing with all the trouble brewing in Canada. She imagined her mentor wouldn't be too happy with having another situation dropped on her all of a sudden. Instead, she and Harriet intended to go to Pennsylvania, where most escaped slaves from Maryland went.

Their first stop after fleeing the Brodess plantation had been the Preston area near Poplar Neck in Caroline County, where a fair amount of Quaker conductors lived and operated. After resupplying there, they headed Northeast, along the Choptank River. Along the way, they met up with a few friends along the Railroad for aid and supplies.

But obstacles soon sprung up all over the route. The Templars had sent their agents out to recapture Brodess’s lost slave, though Priscilla had no doubt they would sooner kill the both of them the moment they caught up. Which is why it was important to make sure they didn't catch up. The past few nights had been full of hiding and ducking for cover and splitting town at the slightest sign of the enemy. The few allies they came across offered shelter and disguises, but Priscilla knew such gifts could only be temporary before they were forced to keep moving.

They were sitting in the humble home of two of their supporters, a somewhat elderly couple who secretly worked for the Railroad. The couple had welcomed the women with open arms and gave them a decent meal.

“It was quite delicious, Mr. and Mrs. Finney,” Priscilla told them once their plates were clear. “Thank you both so much.”

Next to her, Harriet nodded in full agreement. She wasn't used to receiving such kindness, so this moment was something she wanted to savor.

“It's no trouble at all, dearies!” Mrs. Finney said. “We're always glad to help those in need.”

“Indeed,” her husband agreed. “We're all family along the Railroad, my friends.”

“Well, thank you again. We'll probably need to rest here for the night before leaving in the morning, if that's okay?”

“Of course! Stay as long as you need! We've got some spare nightclothes in the back if you require them.”

“Thank you, that's very kind.” And for that brief moment, Priscilla was able to push out all other thoughts, all other memories of the insanity that occurred over the past year, and she replaced it all with the smiley sense of companionship that all of them felt right then and there.

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

The peace was ripped to shreds that night.

Priscilla and Harriet had been laying in their makeshift beds that the Finneys had provided. Priscilla was sound asleep, dreaming of sunny days with her children at home, when Harriet frantically but quietly shook her awake.

“Mrs. Spainhower!” she whispered frightfully. “Mrs. Spainhower!”

Priscilla sat up straight, groggy but ready for action. “I… wha? Huh? What… what's wrong?”

“There's someone in the house, Mrs. Spainhower.”

That woke Priscilla up rather quickly. She was already reaching for her hidden blades. “What?” she said. “What do you mean?”

“I just heard two bodies drop downstairs...”

Priscilla’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God…”

Priscilla slipped her Assassin robes on as fast as possible. She grabbed her revolver and bowie knife and ran out the door, taking care to avoid the floorboards that creaked. Harriet followed close behind as they tiptoed down the stairs and slowly crept towards where Harriet said she heard the thud: the kitchen. Priscilla hid behind the kitchen entrance, peeking her head out slowly to see if her fears were confirmed. They were.

At least, in a sense. The Finneys were on the ground, sprawled out and unconscious, but not dead. The two of them had a large dart sticking out of their necks. Priscilla went still as stone.

“Mrs. Spainhower?” Harriet nervously whispered. Priscilla shushed her.

“But…”

“Shh!”

Harriet went quiet. Priscilla simply stood there, listening in every direction for a very specific sound. For a good long while, there was nothing but the night's dead silence. But she kept listening, listening for any noise that dared to penetrate the quiet.

And then she heard it.

A rifle being cocked.

She grabbed Harriet and pulled her to the floor just as a distinctive pop of air filled the room and a little dart zipped over their heads and into the door frame.

“Run! Get to cover!” Priscilla said to her friend. Harriet didn't hesitate. She sprinted for the exit.

Priscilla stood to face the hulking figure that came from the dark halls of the cabin. His daggers gleamed in what little moonlight came in through the windows. She scowled at him, her eyes falling on the Templar cross embroidered into his leather coat. She flicked out her hidden blades.

“Cormac,” she said coldly.

“Mrs. Spainhower,” Cudgel responded as he stepped forward.

“Come to kidnap the poor girl again? Send her back into a life of never-ending torment?”

Cudgel scowled, clearly uncomfortable with this confrontation.

“It is my duty to the Order to ensure that she is returned.”

But he didn't sound too sure of himself.

“Over my dead body,” Priscilla spat.

“That was the intention.”

He struck.

Priscilla barely had time to react. He came forward with his daggers, slicing hard and methodically. He managed to open up a few cuts, and even reopened the facial scar she earned from their last battle.

She stumbled backwards, and fell onto the floor clutching her bleeding nose. Cudgel stepped forward, seeing she was down and vulnerable. He drew his air rifle from its holster on his back. He aimed it at her skull, cocked his gun, put his finger on the trigger and…

“Surprise!”

Priscilla suddenly sprang up, loaded revolver in hand, and she let off a shot at lightning speed. Now Cudgel was the one sent flying backwards, except he wasn't pretending like she had.

Priscilla ducked behind a couch and started letting off shots in his direction. Cudgel managed to dodge most of them and duck behind a door frame before grabbing his own pistol and firing back.

They both ran out of bullets, and both ducked to reload.

“I know you don't want me dead, Cudgel,” she called to him.

“It is my duty as a Hunter to kill you.”

“Ah, but it's not your desire though, is it?”

“Shut up before I shut you up myself.”

“I know you chose to spare me back in Maryland. I saw the look in your eye, Cormac. You let me kill Brodess. You wanted me to kill him!”

“He… he was a threat to the Order. He needed to die one way or another. The Order doesn't tolerate such men.”

“Your boss seems to think otherwise.”

She finished reloading her gun and let off another round of bullets. Cudgel responded by chucking throwing knives at her as he leapt for a new cover. Priscilla ducked away from each and rolled behind an upturned table.

“Grand Master Calhoun is… misguided,” Cudgel said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than her. “He's been too preoccupied to look deep into our internal issues. He's been focused on our mission to find the Temple.”

“You mean the mission that your grandfather specifically passed on to my Mentor?”

“You don’t know my grandfather like I do!” He let off another round of revolver shots. Priscilla ducked down.

“I know enough! I know that he gave his life to ensure bastards like Calhoun never get there hands on such powerful objects as whatever is in that Temple!”

“Shut your gob!”

“It's true!”

“My grandfather was the greatest Templar who ever lived, and I will honor him by serving the Order in any way I can! Starting with ridding this damned country of every last Assassin!”

“You're a fool, Cormac! A damned fool! We've a common enemy, Cudgel!”

“My enemies are the Assassins and everything they stand for!”

“You mean like treating all people with respect and liberty, regardless of race or gender or anything else?”

“There's… there's a natural order to things. An order that must be kept. Even if some have to suffer for it…”

“See boy, I know you don't believe that. I can hear it in your voice. You're not just a fool, you're a fool with doubt in his heart.”

Then suddenly Cudgel lunged forward and tackled her without warning. He gripped his daggers tight, doing all he could to jab them into her throat, but she wasn't about to let him do that. She had people to save, a family to go home to, a Key to reclaim. She pushed against his blade arm with all her strength, and used an opening she noticed to slam her head into his, sending him falling back enough for her to hop to her feet and spring out her hidden blades. With a shout, she turned the tables and lunged onto him, slicing and jabbing. She managed to open a few cuts before he kicked her off of him.

The two stood face-to-face. A determined soldier, and a torn loyalist. They each held their weapons up, trying to stare each other down.

Then suddenly a blood-curdling scream came from outside the cabin. Harriet's scream. Priscilla’s eyes widened.

“You're too late, Assassin,” Cudgel said, a hint of solemnity under his voice.

Then Priscilla did the first thing her instincts told her to do: jump straight out the window.

The glass shattered into the grass outside as Priscilla’s momentum carried her into a standing position. Her eyes darted around until she saw a distant carriage parked nearby, where Catherine Boston was ordering her thugs to drag Harriet onto their ride.

“Quickly you dolts!” she commanded. “Get her in now!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Harriet was shouting at them.

“Afraid we can't, my dear. We must get you returned to your rightful place.”

“No! I won't go back to chains! I won't! I refuse!”

“You have no choice in the matter.”

Harriet struggled desperately to break free of the thugs’ holds, but they had her tight. Priscilla’s fists clenched, and she sprinted at her foes.

“What the hell is taking so long, Mrs. Boston?” a new voice suddenly said from the carriage. To Priscilla’s anger, it was Calhoun. He was in the front seat of the carriage, casually and nonchalantly watching the whole scene like it was some sort of play. But he suddenly looked over, and he saw Priscilla running at them, blood higher than ever. A look of terror stretched onto his disgusting face. He immediately started calling for his allies to get in. The thugs kicked out Harriet's legs from beneath her, and dragged her into the carriage. One hopped into the driver's seat and shook the reins just as Boston joined next to him. Priscilla lunged forward to grab the now-moving carriage, but it was already moving too fast. She stumbled as she missed, screaming “No!” and desperately thinking fast. She looked at her bracer, and a stupid idea popped into her head. A stupid idea that had to be done.

She took aim, flexed her fingers, and triggered the mechanism that fired her rope launcher. The hook, thankfully, latched itself tight onto the speeding carriage, and Priscilla was suddenly dragged along for the ride.

The driver and Boston looked back at her as she slowly but surely pulled herself up the rope towards the carriage. Calhoun also stuck his head out of his window to watch the chaos unfold. The Templars were clearly sick of the determination beaming from their foe.

“How on earth do you continue on like this, you wretch?” Calhoun shouted at her.

“I never learned how to quit,” she spat back.

“A shame,” Boston said. “It will be unfortunate to see such a fine warrior destroy herself over ridiculous principles.”

Priscilla pulled herself farther up, using the mechanism of the launcher to help winch herself up. “I'd hardly call freedom and equality ridiculous,” she said.

“A fragile and unsustainable force.”

“Only when bastards like you keep up such an attitude.”

“For God's sake, just shoot the child already!” Calhoun called to Boston. “We can chat all we want once we've entered the Temple but for now just stop blabbering and kill her before she kills us!”

Priscilla smiled despite her situation. She heard the fear in his voice. He knew she could kill him, he knew she would, he knew she will. She kept lugging herself farther, her clothes turning torn and messy as she was dragged against the trail.

Boston had pulled out a pistol, and tried to shoot her, but the carriage was making sharp turns, and it threw off her aim. Priscilla eventually, finally, managed to grab onto the back of the carriage, and used her remaining strength to pull herself off the ground and onto the roof. Boston hobbled onto the roof to face her, drawing a knife. Priscilla flicked out her hidden blades.

But when Boston attacked, Priscilla didn't counter as the Templar expected. She instead swung to the side, causing Boston to lose her balance and go tumbling over the edge. Now she was the one clinging for dear life.

Priscilla quickly darted for the carriage door and ripped the lock open with her blade. Inside, Harriet's eyes begged her for help. Priscilla would've grabbed her right there and then if it weren't for Calhoun suddenly grabbing and using a pistol to ward her off. The bullets shattered the glass of the windows, but Priscilla dodged each shot, much to her relief. She noticed that Calhoun wore the Temple Key on a string around his neck. She swore under her breath, wishing she had a better chance to grab it. Calhoun swore as he ran out of bullets, and Priscilla used the brief pause in the battle to lunge forward, grab Harriet, and jump outwards without warning.

The women screamed as they fell from the speeding carriage and went rolling onto the dirt trail with a painful thud. The Templars’ carriage didn't stop, their horses too spooked by the fight. Priscilla’s foes went cursing into the night, unable to stop and turn back to reclaim their prize.

Eventually, Priscilla and Harriet were left alone in the dead of night once again. As silence fell, they looked at each other. Both were bruised and a bit bloodied, but despite that, Priscilla began to smile. Then she started to laugh. Harriet couldn't help but join in.

The two hugged in victory, in celebration of making it out alive.

“You did it, Mrs. Spainhower! You did it!”

“Indeed, my friend! Indeed! Now, we'd better hurry and get as far away from here as possible before they manage to control their horses again.”

Harriet nodded. The two stood up from the dirt, smiled brightly, turned to leave…

...and then stopped when they caught sight of the rifle barrel aimed directly at them at point-blank range.

Cudgel glared at them, saying nothing, but breathing heavily. The women stood motionless, unsure of what to do.

But suddenly Cudgel began to lower his rifle, albeit slowly. He never took his eyes off of theirs. He sheathed the gun.

Priscilla’s jaw dropped in surprise. He wasn't letting them go again, was he?

But he was. Before Priscilla could open her mouth to say anything, Cudgel shoved past them and sprinted in the direction of the carriage, never looking back. Harriet and Priscilla shared a shocked look.

“Why did he…?” Harriet said.

“...Because he has a heart,” Priscilla responded. “Not a whole one, but one that's fuller than his companions. The poor misguided fool…”

The two stood in silence for a moment, before finally turning it leave once again. They weren't about to stick around to see how far their luck would go. Philadelphia was still a long ways away, and there were surely more challenges ahead.

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

September 29, 1849; Outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

They crossed the line the next day. They crossed the border that granted Harriet her freedom. The morning seemed to suit the feeling of tired accomplishment that the two of them felt. The golden sun stretched its warmth across an orange sky, the light outlining the crimson clouds that slowly, calmly, made their way over the distant skyline of Philadelphia. It was welcoming, as if the world itself was giving them this gorgeous sight as reward for all their struggles.

The moment clearly wasn't lost on Harriet, who after a few minutes of shock and realization of reality, began to cry tears of joy. She fell to her knees. She looked at her shaking hands through tear-filled eyes, as if to check if she really was there, if she was really and truly a free woman. She was, she was free, and the happiness of such a reality overtook anything else.

Priscilla looked over at her, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“It's over now, Harriet. It's over.”

Harriet semi-laughed.

“Well, it's not fully over yet, Mrs. Spainhower.”

“Hmm?”

She looked up at her, and stood to face her. “I will go back eventually. Once I've secured myself as someone legally free, I'll go back, and I'll rescue my family. I'll do as you said and be a beacon of hope for them, proof that freedom is possible. And I'll be sure to know you were the one who taught me so.”

Priscilla smiled and laughed lightly. “Well, with all due respect, Harriet, I think I'd prefer to keep myself out of as many historical records as possible. My Brotherhood lives in secrets. We work in the dark to serve the light, and that's a tradition I like to keep.”

Harriet nodded in understanding. “Well, nonetheless, I'll take your lessons with me wherever I go. Thank you, Priscilla, for everything.”

“It's no problem, Harriet. It's what I do.”

Harriet lunged forward and hugged her friend. The two stood there for a moment, enjoying the peace while it lasted, before finally splitting up.

“Well, this is goodbye then, my friend,” Priscilla said.

Harriet nodded. “Indeed. But, if I may ask, where will you go next? I will be in the city, obviously, but you've got so many places you can go. So, what stop is next on your journey?”

Priscilla shrugged. “What I always do I guess: ensure people like you and me are treated fairly and have their rights protected.”

“That is good. The world needs more people like you.”

Priscilla smiled. After another silent moment, she extended a friendly hand, which Harriet firmly shook. The two hugged one last time, and then Harriet began her trek towards the city. Priscilla watched her go, and got caught up in her thoughts as the sky shifted to another scenery. As the world faded into a void full of ones and zeroes, one thought stuck in her mind: it was time to get her Key back. It was time to stop the Templars before another innocent person gets hurt. That was the last thought that crossed her mind before it was kicked out of my head, making room for mine to fill the gap once again.

“Alright kid,” Ruby told me. “Time for another break.”

Description
September 24, 1849; Bucktown, Maryland

Priscilla found herself on the same hill overlooking the Brodess plantation that she stood on months ago. Her torso had returned to its athletic form since June 15, when she gave birth to a bouncing baby boy whom she and Abraham had named William. But another major difference loomed over her: she was alone. Aveza wasn't at her side. She wasn't even in the same country.

Aveza had been called back to her homeland, to Canada. Political unrest had dragged her Mentor back into a fight that needed cleaning up. The local people were beginning to form a sort of national identity, one separate from the British Empire. Many were beginning to get fed up with the way the British had been treating them in recent years, and their grievances were bubbling out in violent ways. Canada's Parliamentary buildings were burnt to the ground back in April, and riots had stirred up in Bytown just this September. Aveza suspected the Templars likely had some involvement in it all, and now her hands were full. Priscilla was on her own now in America. And the job she had now would have to be done alone as well.

She snuck down into the plantation fields, hiding in the shadows of night, until she came upon the small, rotting structure that Brodess’s men dubbed the living space for their slaves. Priscilla quietly slipped inside, and used her Eagle Vision to track down the person she intended to meet up with.

She found her sitting on her bed in her room, watching the clouds roll past the stars as she dreamt a shattered dream. She was startled by Priscilla’s sudden appearance, and probably would've screamed if years of beatings hadn't instilled in her the instinct to stay quiet.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Priscilla whispered angrily.

Harriet stared back at her, her expression of fear shifting to one of sad regret. She lowered her head, and said nothing.

“We gave you all ample opportunity to get away from this wretched place, and yet you remain!” Priscilla said. “Why?”

“We tried, Mrs. Spainhower, we tried,” Harriet said. “Oh how we tried. My brothers and I made our run yesterday. We had been hired out to another household a few weeks ago, you see. And we knew Mrs. Brodess was goin’ to sell us soon. So we finally ran. But we were cowards. Mrs. Brodess put out wanted posters all across the county. My brothers lost hope they could make it out, and they turned right back to here. And when they lost hope… so did I…”

Priscilla could hardly believe her ears. “So all we did was for nothing then?” she said. “Nothing? Harriet, I killed a man so that you all could be free. How in God’s name could you just stay here like that?”

Harriet's head lowered further. “We've been made to see ourselves small, Mrs. Spainhower,” she said. “All our lives, we were treated like cattle. And the sad truth is that most all of us ended up believing it…”

“Do you believe it?”

That brought Harriet to silence. She stared at Priscilla for a moment before finally answering, “No. No ma'am I don't. I still think we have a chance. The way I see it, there are one of two things I have a right to: liberty or death; if I can not have one, I will have the other.”

Priscilla stared for a moment, then reached forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of bed. “Then we're leaving now,” she stated in such a way that made it clear it wasn't a suggestion.

“I can't, Mrs. Spainhower…”

“Well, to quote a friend of mine: ‘That's rubbish.’ You can and you will. We will. Tonight.”

“But the others…”

“They won't listen, and their hope is lost. But you can restore their hope, Harriet. Come with me and prove to them it can be done. And when they've been proven wrong, come back here and set them free too.”

“I… I…”

“You are their hope now, Harriet. Show them the light. Bring them to the promised land.”

Harriet looked into Priscilla’s pleading eyes, weighing her options every which way. She glanced at her, then into the halls, at the rotting rooms where her friends and family were forced to suffer in, prisoners not just of the slavers, but of their own minds as well. She looked at them, stifled her tears, and then turned back to Priscilla.

“Okay…” she said to her. “I'll get a quick message to my mother first, and then we can go…”

Priscilla couldn't have smiled wider.

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

September 28, 1849; Outside of Dover, Delaware

They took nothing with them from the plantation. They relied solely on Priscilla’s supplies and whatever they could scavenge as they travelled the long journey up north.

The Underground Railroad had been a proud accomplishment of the Assassins for decades now. It was hardly perfect, and they had their fair share of tragic failures along the lines, but hundreds of successful escapes well overshadowed the negative outcomes. Hundreds of good-willed people took part in running the routes: free and enslaved blacks, white abolitionists, Quakers, and of course several Assassins. They worked day and night to help escaped slaves reach lands where they could finally be free. Some routes were short runs to the nearest free state. Others went much farther, all the way to Canada, where Aveza would normally help take the reins and guide the slaves to freedom there.

But Priscilla knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to go that far this time round. Aveza was still busy dealing with all the trouble brewing in Canada. She imagined her mentor wouldn't be too happy with having another situation dropped on her all of a sudden. Instead, she and Harriet intended to go to Pennsylvania, where most escaped slaves from Maryland went.

Their first stop after fleeing the Brodess plantation had been the Preston area near Poplar Neck in Caroline County, where a fair amount of Quaker conductors lived and operated. After resupplying there, they headed Northeast, along the Choptank River. Along the way, they met up with a few friends along the Railroad for aid and supplies.

But obstacles soon sprung up all over the route. The Templars had sent their agents out to recapture Brodess’s lost slave, though Priscilla had no doubt they would sooner kill the both of them the moment they caught up. Which is why it was important to make sure they didn't catch up. The past few nights had been full of hiding and ducking for cover and splitting town at the slightest sign of the enemy. The few allies they came across offered shelter and disguises, but Priscilla knew such gifts could only be temporary before they were forced to keep moving.

They were sitting in the humble home of two of their supporters, a somewhat elderly couple who secretly worked for the Railroad. The couple had welcomed the women with open arms and gave them a decent meal.

“It was quite delicious, Mr. and Mrs. Finney,” Priscilla told them once their plates were clear. “Thank you both so much.”

Next to her, Harriet nodded in full agreement. She wasn't used to receiving such kindness, so this moment was something she wanted to savor.

“It's no trouble at all, dearies!” Mrs. Finney said. “We're always glad to help those in need.”

“Indeed,” her husband agreed. “We're all family along the Railroad, my friends.”

“Well, thank you again. We'll probably need to rest here for the night before leaving in the morning, if that's okay?”

“Of course! Stay as long as you need! We've got some spare nightclothes in the back if you require them.”

“Thank you, that's very kind.” And for that brief moment, Priscilla was able to push out all other thoughts, all other memories of the insanity that occurred over the past year, and she replaced it all with the smiley sense of companionship that all of them felt right then and there.

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

The peace was ripped to shreds that night.

Priscilla and Harriet had been laying in their makeshift beds that the Finneys had provided. Priscilla was sound asleep, dreaming of sunny days with her children at home, when Harriet frantically but quietly shook her awake.

“Mrs. Spainhower!” she whispered frightfully. “Mrs. Spainhower!”

Priscilla sat up straight, groggy but ready for action. “I… wha? Huh? What… what's wrong?”

“There's someone in the house, Mrs. Spainhower.”

That woke Priscilla up rather quickly. She was already reaching for her hidden blades. “What?” she said. “What do you mean?”

“I just heard two bodies drop downstairs...”

Priscilla’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God…”

Priscilla slipped her Assassin robes on as fast as possible. She grabbed her revolver and bowie knife and ran out the door, taking care to avoid the floorboards that creaked. Harriet followed close behind as they tiptoed down the stairs and slowly crept towards where Harriet said she heard the thud: the kitchen. Priscilla hid behind the kitchen entrance, peeking her head out slowly to see if her fears were confirmed. They were.

At least, in a sense. The Finneys were on the ground, sprawled out and unconscious, but not dead. The two of them had a large dart sticking out of their necks. Priscilla went still as stone.

“Mrs. Spainhower?” Harriet nervously whispered. Priscilla shushed her.

“But…”

“Shh!”

Harriet went quiet. Priscilla simply stood there, listening in every direction for a very specific sound. For a good long while, there was nothing but the night's dead silence. But she kept listening, listening for any noise that dared to penetrate the quiet.

And then she heard it.

A rifle being cocked.

She grabbed Harriet and pulled her to the floor just as a distinctive pop of air filled the room and a little dart zipped over their heads and into the door frame.

“Run! Get to cover!” Priscilla said to her friend. Harriet didn't hesitate. She sprinted for the exit.

Priscilla stood to face the hulking figure that came from the dark halls of the cabin. His daggers gleamed in what little moonlight came in through the windows. She scowled at him, her eyes falling on the Templar cross embroidered into his leather coat. She flicked out her hidden blades.

“Cormac,” she said coldly.

“Mrs. Spainhower,” Cudgel responded as he stepped forward.

“Come to kidnap the poor girl again? Send her back into a life of never-ending torment?”

Cudgel scowled, clearly uncomfortable with this confrontation.

“It is my duty to the Order to ensure that she is returned.”

But he didn't sound too sure of himself.

“Over my dead body,” Priscilla spat.

“That was the intention.”

He struck.

Priscilla barely had time to react. He came forward with his daggers, slicing hard and methodically. He managed to open up a few cuts, and even reopened the facial scar she earned from their last battle.

She stumbled backwards, and fell onto the floor clutching her bleeding nose. Cudgel stepped forward, seeing she was down and vulnerable. He drew his air rifle from its holster on his back. He aimed it at her skull, cocked his gun, put his finger on the trigger and…

“Surprise!”

Priscilla suddenly sprang up, loaded revolver in hand, and she let off a shot at lightning speed. Now Cudgel was the one sent flying backwards, except he wasn't pretending like she had.

Priscilla ducked behind a couch and started letting off shots in his direction. Cudgel managed to dodge most of them and duck behind a door frame before grabbing his own pistol and firing back.

They both ran out of bullets, and both ducked to reload.

“I know you don't want me dead, Cudgel,” she called to him.

“It is my duty as a Hunter to kill you.”

“Ah, but it's not your desire though, is it?”

“Shut up before I shut you up myself.”

“I know you chose to spare me back in Maryland. I saw the look in your eye, Cormac. You let me kill Brodess. You wanted me to kill him!”

“He… he was a threat to the Order. He needed to die one way or another. The Order doesn't tolerate such men.”

“Your boss seems to think otherwise.”

She finished reloading her gun and let off another round of bullets. Cudgel responded by chucking throwing knives at her as he leapt for a new cover. Priscilla ducked away from each and rolled behind an upturned table.

“Grand Master Calhoun is… misguided,” Cudgel said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than her. “He's been too preoccupied to look deep into our internal issues. He's been focused on our mission to find the Temple.”

“You mean the mission that your grandfather specifically passed on to my Mentor?”

“You don’t know my grandfather like I do!” He let off another round of revolver shots. Priscilla ducked down.

“I know enough! I know that he gave his life to ensure bastards like Calhoun never get there hands on such powerful objects as whatever is in that Temple!”

“Shut your gob!”

“It's true!”

“My grandfather was the greatest Templar who ever lived, and I will honor him by serving the Order in any way I can! Starting with ridding this damned country of every last Assassin!”

“You're a fool, Cormac! A damned fool! We've a common enemy, Cudgel!”

“My enemies are the Assassins and everything they stand for!”

“You mean like treating all people with respect and liberty, regardless of race or gender or anything else?”

“There's… there's a natural order to things. An order that must be kept. Even if some have to suffer for it…”

“See boy, I know you don't believe that. I can hear it in your voice. You're not just a fool, you're a fool with doubt in his heart.”

Then suddenly Cudgel lunged forward and tackled her without warning. He gripped his daggers tight, doing all he could to jab them into her throat, but she wasn't about to let him do that. She had people to save, a family to go home to, a Key to reclaim. She pushed against his blade arm with all her strength, and used an opening she noticed to slam her head into his, sending him falling back enough for her to hop to her feet and spring out her hidden blades. With a shout, she turned the tables and lunged onto him, slicing and jabbing. She managed to open a few cuts before he kicked her off of him.

The two stood face-to-face. A determined soldier, and a torn loyalist. They each held their weapons up, trying to stare each other down.

Then suddenly a blood-curdling scream came from outside the cabin. Harriet's scream. Priscilla’s eyes widened.

“You're too late, Assassin,” Cudgel said, a hint of solemnity under his voice.

Then Priscilla did the first thing her instincts told her to do: jump straight out the window.

The glass shattered into the grass outside as Priscilla’s momentum carried her into a standing position. Her eyes darted around until she saw a distant carriage parked nearby, where Catherine Boston was ordering her thugs to drag Harriet onto their ride.

“Quickly you dolts!” she commanded. “Get her in now!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Harriet was shouting at them.

“Afraid we can't, my dear. We must get you returned to your rightful place.”

“No! I won't go back to chains! I won't! I refuse!”

“You have no choice in the matter.”

Harriet struggled desperately to break free of the thugs’ holds, but they had her tight. Priscilla’s fists clenched, and she sprinted at her foes.

“What the hell is taking so long, Mrs. Boston?” a new voice suddenly said from the carriage. To Priscilla’s anger, it was Calhoun. He was in the front seat of the carriage, casually and nonchalantly watching the whole scene like it was some sort of play. But he suddenly looked over, and he saw Priscilla running at them, blood higher than ever. A look of terror stretched onto his disgusting face. He immediately started calling for his allies to get in. The thugs kicked out Harriet's legs from beneath her, and dragged her into the carriage. One hopped into the driver's seat and shook the reins just as Boston joined next to him. Priscilla lunged forward to grab the now-moving carriage, but it was already moving too fast. She stumbled as she missed, screaming “No!” and desperately thinking fast. She looked at her bracer, and a stupid idea popped into her head. A stupid idea that had to be done.

She took aim, flexed her fingers, and triggered the mechanism that fired her rope launcher. The hook, thankfully, latched itself tight onto the speeding carriage, and Priscilla was suddenly dragged along for the ride.

The driver and Boston looked back at her as she slowly but surely pulled herself up the rope towards the carriage. Calhoun also stuck his head out of his window to watch the chaos unfold. The Templars were clearly sick of the determination beaming from their foe.

“How on earth do you continue on like this, you wretch?” Calhoun shouted at her.

“I never learned how to quit,” she spat back.

“A shame,” Boston said. “It will be unfortunate to see such a fine warrior destroy herself over ridiculous principles.”

Priscilla pulled herself farther up, using the mechanism of the launcher to help winch herself up. “I'd hardly call freedom and equality ridiculous,” she said.

“A fragile and unsustainable force.”

“Only when bastards like you keep up such an attitude.”

“For God's sake, just shoot the child already!” Calhoun called to Boston. “We can chat all we want once we've entered the Temple but for now just stop blabbering and kill her before she kills us!”

Priscilla smiled despite her situation. She heard the fear in his voice. He knew she could kill him, he knew she would, he knew she will. She kept lugging herself farther, her clothes turning torn and messy as she was dragged against the trail.

Boston had pulled out a pistol, and tried to shoot her, but the carriage was making sharp turns, and it threw off her aim. Priscilla eventually, finally, managed to grab onto the back of the carriage, and used her remaining strength to pull herself off the ground and onto the roof. Boston hobbled onto the roof to face her, drawing a knife. Priscilla flicked out her hidden blades.

But when Boston attacked, Priscilla didn't counter as the Templar expected. She instead swung to the side, causing Boston to lose her balance and go tumbling over the edge. Now she was the one clinging for dear life.

Priscilla quickly darted for the carriage door and ripped the lock open with her blade. Inside, Harriet's eyes begged her for help. Priscilla would've grabbed her right there and then if it weren't for Calhoun suddenly grabbing and using a pistol to ward her off. The bullets shattered the glass of the windows, but Priscilla dodged each shot, much to her relief. She noticed that Calhoun wore the Temple Key on a string around his neck. She swore under her breath, wishing she had a better chance to grab it. Calhoun swore as he ran out of bullets, and Priscilla used the brief pause in the battle to lunge forward, grab Harriet, and jump outwards without warning.

The women screamed as they fell from the speeding carriage and went rolling onto the dirt trail with a painful thud. The Templars’ carriage didn't stop, their horses too spooked by the fight. Priscilla’s foes went cursing into the night, unable to stop and turn back to reclaim their prize.

Eventually, Priscilla and Harriet were left alone in the dead of night once again. As silence fell, they looked at each other. Both were bruised and a bit bloodied, but despite that, Priscilla began to smile. Then she started to laugh. Harriet couldn't help but join in.

The two hugged in victory, in celebration of making it out alive.

“You did it, Mrs. Spainhower! You did it!”

“Indeed, my friend! Indeed! Now, we'd better hurry and get as far away from here as possible before they manage to control their horses again.”

Harriet nodded. The two stood up from the dirt, smiled brightly, turned to leave…

...and then stopped when they caught sight of the rifle barrel aimed directly at them at point-blank range.

Cudgel glared at them, saying nothing, but breathing heavily. The women stood motionless, unsure of what to do.

But suddenly Cudgel began to lower his rifle, albeit slowly. He never took his eyes off of theirs. He sheathed the gun.

Priscilla’s jaw dropped in surprise. He wasn't letting them go again, was he?

But he was. Before Priscilla could open her mouth to say anything, Cudgel shoved past them and sprinted in the direction of the carriage, never looking back. Harriet and Priscilla shared a shocked look.

“Why did he…?” Harriet said.

“...Because he has a heart,” Priscilla responded. “Not a whole one, but one that's fuller than his companions. The poor misguided fool…”

The two stood in silence for a moment, before finally turning it leave once again. They weren't about to stick around to see how far their luck would go. Philadelphia was still a long ways away, and there were surely more challenges ahead.

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

September 29, 1849; Outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

They crossed the line the next day. They crossed the border that granted Harriet her freedom. The morning seemed to suit the feeling of tired accomplishment that the two of them felt. The golden sun stretched its warmth across an orange sky, the light outlining the crimson clouds that slowly, calmly, made their way over the distant skyline of Philadelphia. It was welcoming, as if the world itself was giving them this gorgeous sight as reward for all their struggles.

The moment clearly wasn't lost on Harriet, who after a few minutes of shock and realization of reality, began to cry tears of joy. She fell to her knees. She looked at her shaking hands through tear-filled eyes, as if to check if she really was there, if she was really and truly a free woman. She was, she was free, and the happiness of such a reality overtook anything else.

Priscilla looked over at her, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“It's over now, Harriet. It's over.”

Harriet semi-laughed.

“Well, it's not fully over yet, Mrs. Spainhower.”

“Hmm?”

She looked up at her, and stood to face her. “I will go back eventually. Once I've secured myself as someone legally free, I'll go back, and I'll rescue my family. I'll do as you said and be a beacon of hope for them, proof that freedom is possible. And I'll be sure to know you were the one who taught me so.”

Priscilla smiled and laughed lightly. “Well, with all due respect, Harriet, I think I'd prefer to keep myself out of as many historical records as possible. My Brotherhood lives in secrets. We work in the dark to serve the light, and that's a tradition I like to keep.”

Harriet nodded in understanding. “Well, nonetheless, I'll take your lessons with me wherever I go. Thank you, Priscilla, for everything.”

“It's no problem, Harriet. It's what I do.”

Harriet lunged forward and hugged her friend. The two stood there for a moment, enjoying the peace while it lasted, before finally splitting up.

“Well, this is goodbye then, my friend,” Priscilla said.

Harriet nodded. “Indeed. But, if I may ask, where will you go next? I will be in the city, obviously, but you've got so many places you can go. So, what stop is next on your journey?”

Priscilla shrugged. “What I always do I guess: ensure people like you and me are treated fairly and have their rights protected.”

“That is good. The world needs more people like you.”

Priscilla smiled. After another silent moment, she extended a friendly hand, which Harriet firmly shook. The two hugged one last time, and then Harriet began her trek towards the city. Priscilla watched her go, and got caught up in her thoughts as the sky shifted to another scenery. As the world faded into a void full of ones and zeroes, one thought stuck in her mind: it was time to get her Key back. It was time to stop the Templars before another innocent person gets hurt. That was the last thought that crossed her mind before it was kicked out of my head, making room for mine to fill the gap once again.

“Alright kid,” Ruby told me. “Time for another break.”