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March 30, 1850; Indianapolis, Indiana

It started when she spoke with Aveza back in Indianapolis.

After a good few months of holding down the fort in the United States for a few months, Priscilla was finally given the chance to work with her mentor once again. Things in Canada had quieted down enough for Aveza to return to the States and assist her apprentice once again in their quest to retrieve the Key.

Of course, the local Templars were still determined to give them trouble. Afterall, the Key wasn't the Assassins’ only mission. There was still their ultimate goal of bringing freedom and equality to this nation. The Woman's Rights Movement had slowed (though hardly stopped) since Seneca Falls. True, there were still several activists across the country continuing to do whatever they can to bring more people over to the cause. And yes, there were still several meetings and gatherings around the nation concerning the tyrannical plagues that polluted the lands. The one held in Rochester back in 1848 was the one that came to Priscilla’s mind right away. But there wasn't any major event to make the headlines that Seneca Falls did. And Aveza definitely believed there needed to be another such event.

“I've been discussing the idea with a few of our friends within the Movement,” she was telling Priscilla as they sat in the hideout. “Have you heard of Lucy Stone, dear?”

“The abolitionist from Massachusetts?”

“Aye. That one. I talked the idea over with her, and of course she was thrilled about the idea. She said her home state wouldn't be a good candidate for a location due to an abundance of prejudice, but she did point me toward a few good girls in Ohio that might be able to help out.”

“Sounds like a wonderful idea, Aveza. It would definitely raise the volume of women's voices in this nation's society.”

“Aye, dear. But…”

“Oh no.” There always had to be a “but…”

“The Templars have been practically stopping any chance of letting us proceed. You remember that Catherine Boston woman they have?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, while Calhoun and his goons in Congress have been tearing down any hope of slavery’s end, she's been working day and night to ensure women don't receive any rights either.”

Priscilla threw up her hands in frustration. “How?” she said, annoyed. “How in God’s name can she do this to her own people? Why would she keep her fellow women in the dark shadow of oppression?”

“Because, my dear, she's a Templar. And Templars are bloody stupid. They think the little system of tyrannical rule they've set up over the years is the only way to maintain order, despite centuries of evidence otherwise.” She paused, and almost chuckled. “You know, if you go and look at the Templars’ old doctrine, the Latin Rule, it actually forbids women from being in their Order at all. They believed women were the devil's strongest conduits.”

“You've got to be kidding.”

“I wish I was. Of course, as the centuries passed and the Crusades ended, they tended to be a bit more lenient. Used to be you'd get the oddball out like Maria Thorpe, but later on they got people like Lucrezia Borgia or Madeleine de L'Isle, or even the occasional respectable human being like Élise de la Serre. But here and now they've got people like Catherine Boston. People who just want power, who just want to see others hurt because that's the way it's been for hundreds of years.”

“Good lord.”

“I agree, my dear, I agree. But, there is some good news.”

“Do tell.”

Aveza smirked. “I know where Boston’s heading. I know how we can put her schemes to an end.”

Priscilla smiled brightly. “Really?”

“Aye. You know all that nonsense that's been tossed about in your Congress recently?”

“Which nonsense?”

Aveza burst out laughing at that. “Fair point,” she said. “I mean all that rubbish that started when that Clay fellow put forth his newest plot to kick the slavery can down the road to be ignored for yet another few decades.”

“Oh! The Compromise! That nonsense.”

Aveza laughed again. Priscilla laughed along with her.

Oh, the Compromise of 1850. One of the many idiotic proposals put forth by Congress over its long, idiotic history. As if the Templars’ intense hatred of abolishing slavery wasn't obvious enough, they go and put this on the table. With California petitioning for statehood, Congress was worried about how it would affect the slave-state/free-state balance that the already idiotic Missouri Compromise had supposedly upheld. So Senator Henry Clay proposed the Compromise of 1850, which would grant California status as a free-state, outlaw slave trade (though not slavery) in Washington DC, enact a new and terribly cruel fugitive slave act, and establish the system of popular sovereignty. Essentially, the white males of individual states would all be able vote on whether or not they wanted slavery in their state and that would decide slavery’s status there.

This of course completely ignored the slaves in question and what they had to say. But then again the government wasn't exactly famous for caring at all about minorities.

The Compromise received its fair share of critics, of course. Senator William H. Seward, a friend of the Assassins, was opposed to the bill because slavery is, you know, wrong. But none hated the bill more than John C. Calhoun, because he wouldn't be satisfied unless all minorities were systematically enslaved, massacred, or discriminated against in every way possible. He wanted slavery to stay, and he didn't take too kindly to any threat to it. As if the Assassins didn't already have plenty of reasons to target him.

“Calhoun’s on his way to Washington DC to organize a meeting about the bill right now,” Aveza explained to Priscilla. “And as far as our spies can tell, he's bringing Boston along with him on the train ride.”

“They're on their way now?” Priscilla asked, nearly springing out of her chair in anticipation.

“Aye,” Priscilla said, smiling. “If we leave now, we could catch up to them by sunrise.”

“Well than what are we waiting for? Let's go!”

Priscilla jumped up and started gathering up her stuff. Aveza laughed at her enthusiasm and stood to pack as well. They had a long journey ahead of them, and not a lot of time to complete it. But two of their biggest targets were out there now, and chances are, so was the Key. This was their big chance. They weren't going to miss this.

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

March 31, 1850; Outside of Richmond, Virginia

The train’s whittle shrieked in the distance as Priscilla and Aveza raced their horses alongside the tracks, trying to catch up to the locomotive.

They rode their steeds fast and they rode them hard, spurring them to top speeds in order to clear the distance. The horses struggled on, and eventually they came within a reasonable distance of the train.

“What now?” Priscilla called to Aveza over the roar of the wheels on the tracks.

“Use your rope launcher!” Aveza called back.

Priscilla nodded. She loosened her grip on the reins, held out her left arm, and flicked her wrist back. Her fingers yanked on the gears and mechanisms of her rope launcher, and the grappling hook shot out of its casing, whizzing across the gap between her and the train, and hooking onto a metal bar attached to one of the carts. She hopped off her horse, which sped off in the opposite direction once relieved of command, and spent a terrifying split second swinging wildly in the air toward the moving train. For a moment, she thought she was going to miss and fall off, sending her crashing into the dirt at dozens of miles per hour. But she didn't miss. It wasn't the smoothest landing, but her feet definitely planted down onto the solid metal of the train cart balcony. After catching her breath, she clambered onto the roof of the cart and turned back to Aveza.

“Toss me the line!” she called to Priscilla.

Priscilla nodded and scooped up her rope, untangling the hook from its catch and giving the whole thing a good spin before tossing it over to her mentor, who thankfully caught hold.

“Hold on!” Priscilla called as she quickly looped the rope around a metal rail and clicked the recoil mechanism on her launcher. Aveza soon found herself being winched toward the train roof at incredible speeds, leaving her horse to run off as well. Priscilla helped pull her mentor onto the roof of the train and the two took a moment to catch their breaths.

“Bloody hell,” Aveza said. “Ain't that a rush!”

Priscilla laughed. “I guess so,” she said.

“Come on then, dear. We've got places to go, people to see, Templars to kill! As an old friend of mine used to say, Allons-y!”

The Assassins leapt along a few of the train carts until they found a hatch that granted them passage into the interior. They pulled up their hoods and leapt inside one after the other, landing in a crouch on the velvet carpet. The cart was empty, to the Assassins’ thankful surprise. The passenger cars were likely much farther ahead.

“Right then,” Aveza said. “You keep an eye out for Calhoun. I'll look for Boston.”

“Got it.”

They hopped along to the next cart, keeping their senses tuned for any sign of their targets. Priscilla tried to use her Eagle Vision to make things easier, but once they reached the passenger cars, the dense crowds made it rather difficult to see the golden hue that she was searching for.

The women walked a few more cars down. Still nothing. Where were they?

They reached the end of another car, and opened the door to cross to the next. But when Priscilla hopped over and turned to help Aveza do the same, the sound of a gunshot suddenly pierced the air and the links that bound the carts were suddenly torn apart from each other. Half of the train started pulling away from the half that was moving, the half that Priscilla was on and Aveza was not. It happened too fast for Aveza to leap forward and join her apprentice.

“No!” Priscilla called.

“Don't worry about me! Go get them!” Aveza called back.

There was another gunshot, and Priscilla ducked. With a bitter determination, she lunged upwards towards the direction of the sound and pulled herself onto the roof once more. The winds pushed hard against her as she stood tall to face the person standing alone in front of her: Catherine Boston.

“I'm afraid this train shall take you to your final stop, Mrs. Spainhower,” the Templar called over the shriek of the train whistle.

“Where's Calhoun, Boston?” Priscilla spat, her hand going to her weapon belt.

“He's already gone, I'm afraid. Likely already in Washington by now. I'm merely here to be bait.”

Priscilla inwardly cursed. Of course. Calhoun had to know they were coming after him by now. He had her Key, which made him target number one. The coward fled.

“Calhoun will pay for all he's done, as will you!” She pulled out her bowie knife.

“Such a violent child. I'll be glad to rid the world of a vermin like you.”

Boston reached into her coat and from it drew a large dagger with an ivory handle. She drew back her skirts, shifting her outfit into a form more suitable for fighting. Both women's blades shined in the sunlight.

And they struck.

Priscilla leapt forward like a pouncing cat and swiped her weapon through the air at her foe. Boston ducked and spun around to swing at Priscilla from below. Priscilla raised her knife and countered the blow, shoving her weapon to the side in an attempt to throw Boston off balance.

Boston quickly recovered though, and stepped back a few feet to regain her bearings. Priscilla spun her knife in her hands for effect.

“Why do you keep defending people like Calhoun?” Priscilla asked. “How could you keep your fellow humans in such a state of oppression? You'd see your gender repressed for eternity, why?”

“Because that's the way it's been for centuries, child,” Boston spat. “Are you all so naive as to not see that? The world is build on a very fragile set of rules and traditions. To change them would bring the world to collapse.”

“So we're to move forward by staying in the same rotten place for all eternity? It's poor reasoning, Boston, and a poor offer.”

“It is the only way.”

With a yell, Boston darted forward, slicing quickly and methodically at Priscilla. Priscilla received a few scars, not expecting the speed of the attack, but she quickly recovered her bearings and struck back, making her opponent bleed as well.

“What do you think your fight will accomplish, child?” Boston said bitterly in the middle of the fight. “Do you think future generations will revere your name? Do you think they'll look kindly upon you when you're frivolous efforts tear this nation to shreds?”

“Frankly, Boston, I don't give a damn what the history books say about me,” Priscilla spat back. “But I know that when the future comes, and all are free and happy because of our efforts in the present, it'll be your grave that new generations spit on.”

Boston grit her teeth and thrust forward with a yell. Her dagger swung through the air, heading directly for Priscilla’s face. But her attack was sloppy, guided now by arrogant anger. Priscilla smiled. This was what she was waiting for.

As the blade came at her, she brought up her own knife and swung it hard to the left, sending the Templar sprawling off balance. As Boston fell, Priscilla took her advantage and at lightning speed engaged her hidden blade and used her foe’s momentum to drive it hard into her heart. Boston let out a cry of pain as Priscilla gripped her tight, lowered her to the ground, and time began to slow.

The heated atmosphere of the speeding train’s rooftop was muted and replaced with the empty mechanical hum of the Animus’s digital void. I regained just a enough of consciousness to watch my ancestor crouch beside her fallen enemy.

“So…” Boston croaked. “This is how it ends:bleeding at the end of an Assassin's blade. I had hoped I could've lived to see our work completed…”

“Your threat to the Women's Rights Movement is at an end. We will continue our meetings until our equality is achieved.”

Boston laughed. “Then you will be holding your meetings for the rest of time, Assassin. The hearts of men are too dark, too discriminatory for any change to take place, let alone be accepted.”

“See there lies the difference between you and I, Boston. My Creed is founded on a hope that never dies. A hope that one day, even if we don't live to see it, the world will change, and change for the better. Your order is nothing more than a bunch of tired saps that have given up trying.”

“Your endurance is inspiring child… Too bad it will destroy you…”

Priscilla said nothing. She simply looked down upon her prey.

“Where is Calhoun hiding?” she said.

Boston looked at her for a moment, debating whether or not there was any point in hiding it anymore.

“He's taken up residence in the Old Brick Capitol for his stay in Washington…” she said. “Best hurry if you want to catch him. I can see your hurry to tear the world down has no limits…”

With that, Boston’s eyes rolled back, and she breathed her last. Her lifeless body went limp, and Priscilla gently closed the Templar’s eyes.

“Nothing will ever get better if we take no action to make it so,” she said softly. “Rest in peace.”

She pulled a white handkerchief from her coat pocket and slid it across Boston’s red wound. She stood from the body as the sights and sounds of history replaced the void and kicked my mind out of my head for hers to take its place. Priscilla looked at the scenery that whizzed by her vision in a blur.

“Right then,” she said. “I think it's high time we made an unscheduled stop.”

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

March 31, 1850; Washington DC

After the train ordeal, Priscilla and Aveza met up again and made their way to Washington DC, arriving early in the morning.

“Been awhile since I've been here,” Aveza commented as they walked amongst the crowds. “I still remember the day I stood side-by-side with the British Army and burnt this place to the ground. Good times. Good times.”

Priscilla laughed, though her focus on the mission dulled her enthusiasm a bit. She was moments away from cornering the Templar Grand Master, moments from ridding the world of his evil and taking back the Key. Now was her moment for redemption.

They arrived at their destination: the Old Brick Capitol. It was a quaint little boarding school, nothing spectacular or flashy. Priscilla was actually rather surprised that Calhoun would chose this for a residence, even if it was temporary. Templar Grand Masters have a tendency to show off their influence in any way they can. Then again, perhaps all his other clowns in Congress had already taken all the good places. Priscilla didn't give it much thought. All she knew was that it would soon be the last place he ever took up residence in.

The Assassins walked right through the front door. The lady at the front desk looked up at them.

“Excuse me, girls, can I help you?”

“We're here to visit a friend,” Aveza said. “Is Mr. Calhoun in?”

“Um…” The woman looked her up and down, clearly put off by Aveza’s accent and skin tone. Aveza let it slide for now though, and simply smiled.

“Well?” she asked, not impolitely.

“Erm… Mr. Calhoun is in, ma'am. He's upstairs in his room, but…”

“Splendid! We'll head on up right away then!”

“But… now hold on! Wait!”

But the Assassins were already hurrying up the stairs. The desk attendant watched them go, uncertain of what to do, and eventually just sat back in her chair in defeat.

Priscilla used her Eagle Vision to find Calhoun’s silhouette through the doors and walls. She spotted him in the floor above them, lying in his bed, curled up under the sheets by the looks of it. Perfect. He didn't suspect a thing.

The two hurried to the room, picked the lock on the door, and entered. They tiptoed through the room, quiet as mice as they stalked like cats. They peaked around the bedroom door frame. Sure enough, he was still lying asleep in his bed. His back was turned to them. Priscilla smiled. This was it. Easy in. Easy out. It felt good to have a mission go so smoothly after such a wild journey.

She motioned for Aveza to stay back and began slowly and quietly creeping towards Calhoun. She took care to avoid any of the creaking floorboards, and eventually made it to the bedside. She didn't waste any time. In one fluid movement, she engaged her hidden blade, grabbed him tight, and ran him through.

But he didn't scream. He didn't even flinch.

Priscilla’s heart dropped. It hit her quickly: something was very wrong.

She looked nervously at Aveza, whose nerves were now also unsettled. Priscilla reached over, grabbed Calhoun’s covers, and yanked them away. The body rolled over on its back when the sheets pulled on it. Priscilla looked at it, jaw dropped and fists clenched.

It wasn't Calhoun.

It was some random Templar goon that Calhoun likely sacrificed to save his own skin. The body had been dead for at least a few hours by the look of it…

“Bloody he-” Aveza started to say as she stepped forward. But her sentence was interrupted, first by a muffled popping noise, then by a dart that lodged in her neck. Aveza started going wobbly as she reached behind her and pulled the dart out of her flesh for observation.

“Oh for the love of-”

And then she collapsed unconscious on the floor.

Priscilla gasped and spun in the direction of the shot. And who should she see but Cudgel Cormac, rifle in hand.

“It's a sleep dart, don't worry,” he said. “She'll be back up in a minute or so. Unfortunately, you'll both be in chains by the time that happens…”

“Dammit man! What in God's name is wrong with you?” Priscilla shouted, hidden blades raised. “Why do you defend a man like Calhoun? Don't you realize the destruction he's wrought?”

“I do, but I-”

“Oh of course you do. You just don't care, do you? You're just like all the rest then. You don’t care at all what happens to humanity. All that matters is that you come out on top!”

“Don't you dare claim to know me, girl!”

“I know enough to know a thick-headed imbecile who can't realize he's a slave to his master when I see one!”

“Enough!”

He raised his rifle high, aiming it at her face and pulling the trigger. Priscilla ducked out of the way just in time to dodge a dart and she dashed at him, blades raised. Cudgel barely had time to react. She thrust upwards and sliced his cheek. First blood to her.

Cudgel grabbed his duel daggers and came at her in response. Sparks went flying as metal clashed against metal.

“I've seen the way you think about Calhoun and his followers, Cormac!” Priscilla said as they fought. “I've seen the way you hate his nasty guts! I've seen the way you wish you could kill him, that you had the stones to!”

“Shut your gob!”

“No! I will not! I won't let my voice be silenced anymore, nor will I let anyone else’s be silenced! And if you were half the man your grandfather was, you'd do the same!”

Cudgel’s face turned red as he grit his teeth and thrust his blades forward with an angered shout. Priscilla ducked below his knives, and he quickly changed his blow’s direction to a downward thrust. But she did what he didn't expect and rolled between his legs, springing up behind him and kicking him hard on the back, sending him sprawling onto the floorboards. As he fell, Priscilla lunged forward and yanked his rifle from its sheath. When Cudgel hit the floor with a painful thud, he tried get up by rolling onto his back, but Priscilla stood on his chest to stop his progress. She cocked his rifle and put the end of the barrel a few inches from his skull. She looked directly into his eyes, her own filled with fiery fury. For a moment all they did was stare at one another, both breathing heavily.

“Listen here, you Templar dog,” she said through her teeth. “I don't like you and you don't like me. And you know what? That's perfectly fine by me. I don't give a damn whether or not we have a good relationship. But if you're too stupid to realize that we have a common enemy, that we both want that despicable snake Calhoun dead, then I honestly have no reason not to just kill you now. But if you're willing to just pull your head out of your stubborn rear-end and just this once work with us to save the world, then get off that damn floor right now, stop aiming this damned gun at me and my friends, and let's just get to work already!”

Cudgel was at a loss for words. He was clearly torn.

“Look,” Priscilla said, calming herself as best she could. “We both know if Calhoun succeeds in finding that Temple and getting what's inside, there is no hope for humanity. And I know that you want there to be at least some hope.”

Cudgel’s mouth wobbled as he went to war with himself in his mind and tried to find his words.

“It's… It’s too late,” he said. “Calhoun’s well on his way to the Temple by now. We'd never catch him in time…”

Priscilla’s eyes widened. “He knows where it is?!” she said.

“Aye. We found a few mentions of its location in one of William Henry Harrison’s journals… We knew you'd be hunting us down the second we set out for it, so we set a trap.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“About two hours ago.”

“Then there's still time to stop him. Cudgel, we can beat him together if we try. We can end his schemes. His racism, his sexism, his overall discriminatory influence will be gone.”

“It won't end with him… There's still plenty others to take his place.”

“Isn't ridding the world of one more snake a good enough start?”

Cudgel looked at her for a moment as he considered his options. Priscilla lowered the rifle, and in its place extended her hand.

“What do you say, Cudgel?” she said. “Want to save the world?”

Cudgel looked at her hand, then at her, then at her hand again. For a moment he said nothing, but eventually his mind was made up.

He took her hand.

Priscilla smiled. She stepped off his chest and helped him to his feet. “Good man,” she said to him, handing his rifle back to him. “Now let's go kill your boss.”

Cudgel managed to pull a small smile, and he nodded in agreement. Priscilla never thought she'd see the day when she'd find an ally in a Templar, yet here it was. And quite honestly, she was glad to have the new company.

Suddenly, Aveza awoke and groggily got back to her feet, rubbing her head and groaning. She looked at Priscilla, then at Cudgel, then at both of them.

“So,” she said. “What’d I miss?”

Description
March 30, 1850; Indianapolis, Indiana

It started when she spoke with Aveza back in Indianapolis.

After a good few months of holding down the fort in the United States for a few months, Priscilla was finally given the chance to work with her mentor once again. Things in Canada had quieted down enough for Aveza to return to the States and assist her apprentice once again in their quest to retrieve the Key.

Of course, the local Templars were still determined to give them trouble. Afterall, the Key wasn't the Assassins’ only mission. There was still their ultimate goal of bringing freedom and equality to this nation. The Woman's Rights Movement had slowed (though hardly stopped) since Seneca Falls. True, there were still several activists across the country continuing to do whatever they can to bring more people over to the cause. And yes, there were still several meetings and gatherings around the nation concerning the tyrannical plagues that polluted the lands. The one held in Rochester back in 1848 was the one that came to Priscilla’s mind right away. But there wasn't any major event to make the headlines that Seneca Falls did. And Aveza definitely believed there needed to be another such event.

“I've been discussing the idea with a few of our friends within the Movement,” she was telling Priscilla as they sat in the hideout. “Have you heard of Lucy Stone, dear?”

“The abolitionist from Massachusetts?”

“Aye. That one. I talked the idea over with her, and of course she was thrilled about the idea. She said her home state wouldn't be a good candidate for a location due to an abundance of prejudice, but she did point me toward a few good girls in Ohio that might be able to help out.”

“Sounds like a wonderful idea, Aveza. It would definitely raise the volume of women's voices in this nation's society.”

“Aye, dear. But…”

“Oh no.” There always had to be a “but…”

“The Templars have been practically stopping any chance of letting us proceed. You remember that Catherine Boston woman they have?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, while Calhoun and his goons in Congress have been tearing down any hope of slavery’s end, she's been working day and night to ensure women don't receive any rights either.”

Priscilla threw up her hands in frustration. “How?” she said, annoyed. “How in God’s name can she do this to her own people? Why would she keep her fellow women in the dark shadow of oppression?”

“Because, my dear, she's a Templar. And Templars are bloody stupid. They think the little system of tyrannical rule they've set up over the years is the only way to maintain order, despite centuries of evidence otherwise.” She paused, and almost chuckled. “You know, if you go and look at the Templars’ old doctrine, the Latin Rule, it actually forbids women from being in their Order at all. They believed women were the devil's strongest conduits.”

“You've got to be kidding.”

“I wish I was. Of course, as the centuries passed and the Crusades ended, they tended to be a bit more lenient. Used to be you'd get the oddball out like Maria Thorpe, but later on they got people like Lucrezia Borgia or Madeleine de L'Isle, or even the occasional respectable human being like Élise de la Serre. But here and now they've got people like Catherine Boston. People who just want power, who just want to see others hurt because that's the way it's been for hundreds of years.”

“Good lord.”

“I agree, my dear, I agree. But, there is some good news.”

“Do tell.”

Aveza smirked. “I know where Boston’s heading. I know how we can put her schemes to an end.”

Priscilla smiled brightly. “Really?”

“Aye. You know all that nonsense that's been tossed about in your Congress recently?”

“Which nonsense?”

Aveza burst out laughing at that. “Fair point,” she said. “I mean all that rubbish that started when that Clay fellow put forth his newest plot to kick the slavery can down the road to be ignored for yet another few decades.”

“Oh! The Compromise! That nonsense.”

Aveza laughed again. Priscilla laughed along with her.

Oh, the Compromise of 1850. One of the many idiotic proposals put forth by Congress over its long, idiotic history. As if the Templars’ intense hatred of abolishing slavery wasn't obvious enough, they go and put this on the table. With California petitioning for statehood, Congress was worried about how it would affect the slave-state/free-state balance that the already idiotic Missouri Compromise had supposedly upheld. So Senator Henry Clay proposed the Compromise of 1850, which would grant California status as a free-state, outlaw slave trade (though not slavery) in Washington DC, enact a new and terribly cruel fugitive slave act, and establish the system of popular sovereignty. Essentially, the white males of individual states would all be able vote on whether or not they wanted slavery in their state and that would decide slavery’s status there.

This of course completely ignored the slaves in question and what they had to say. But then again the government wasn't exactly famous for caring at all about minorities.

The Compromise received its fair share of critics, of course. Senator William H. Seward, a friend of the Assassins, was opposed to the bill because slavery is, you know, wrong. But none hated the bill more than John C. Calhoun, because he wouldn't be satisfied unless all minorities were systematically enslaved, massacred, or discriminated against in every way possible. He wanted slavery to stay, and he didn't take too kindly to any threat to it. As if the Assassins didn't already have plenty of reasons to target him.

“Calhoun’s on his way to Washington DC to organize a meeting about the bill right now,” Aveza explained to Priscilla. “And as far as our spies can tell, he's bringing Boston along with him on the train ride.”

“They're on their way now?” Priscilla asked, nearly springing out of her chair in anticipation.

“Aye,” Priscilla said, smiling. “If we leave now, we could catch up to them by sunrise.”

“Well than what are we waiting for? Let's go!”

Priscilla jumped up and started gathering up her stuff. Aveza laughed at her enthusiasm and stood to pack as well. They had a long journey ahead of them, and not a lot of time to complete it. But two of their biggest targets were out there now, and chances are, so was the Key. This was their big chance. They weren't going to miss this.

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

March 31, 1850; Outside of Richmond, Virginia

The train’s whittle shrieked in the distance as Priscilla and Aveza raced their horses alongside the tracks, trying to catch up to the locomotive.

They rode their steeds fast and they rode them hard, spurring them to top speeds in order to clear the distance. The horses struggled on, and eventually they came within a reasonable distance of the train.

“What now?” Priscilla called to Aveza over the roar of the wheels on the tracks.

“Use your rope launcher!” Aveza called back.

Priscilla nodded. She loosened her grip on the reins, held out her left arm, and flicked her wrist back. Her fingers yanked on the gears and mechanisms of her rope launcher, and the grappling hook shot out of its casing, whizzing across the gap between her and the train, and hooking onto a metal bar attached to one of the carts. She hopped off her horse, which sped off in the opposite direction once relieved of command, and spent a terrifying split second swinging wildly in the air toward the moving train. For a moment, she thought she was going to miss and fall off, sending her crashing into the dirt at dozens of miles per hour. But she didn't miss. It wasn't the smoothest landing, but her feet definitely planted down onto the solid metal of the train cart balcony. After catching her breath, she clambered onto the roof of the cart and turned back to Aveza.

“Toss me the line!” she called to Priscilla.

Priscilla nodded and scooped up her rope, untangling the hook from its catch and giving the whole thing a good spin before tossing it over to her mentor, who thankfully caught hold.

“Hold on!” Priscilla called as she quickly looped the rope around a metal rail and clicked the recoil mechanism on her launcher. Aveza soon found herself being winched toward the train roof at incredible speeds, leaving her horse to run off as well. Priscilla helped pull her mentor onto the roof of the train and the two took a moment to catch their breaths.

“Bloody hell,” Aveza said. “Ain't that a rush!”

Priscilla laughed. “I guess so,” she said.

“Come on then, dear. We've got places to go, people to see, Templars to kill! As an old friend of mine used to say, Allons-y!”

The Assassins leapt along a few of the train carts until they found a hatch that granted them passage into the interior. They pulled up their hoods and leapt inside one after the other, landing in a crouch on the velvet carpet. The cart was empty, to the Assassins’ thankful surprise. The passenger cars were likely much farther ahead.

“Right then,” Aveza said. “You keep an eye out for Calhoun. I'll look for Boston.”

“Got it.”

They hopped along to the next cart, keeping their senses tuned for any sign of their targets. Priscilla tried to use her Eagle Vision to make things easier, but once they reached the passenger cars, the dense crowds made it rather difficult to see the golden hue that she was searching for.

The women walked a few more cars down. Still nothing. Where were they?

They reached the end of another car, and opened the door to cross to the next. But when Priscilla hopped over and turned to help Aveza do the same, the sound of a gunshot suddenly pierced the air and the links that bound the carts were suddenly torn apart from each other. Half of the train started pulling away from the half that was moving, the half that Priscilla was on and Aveza was not. It happened too fast for Aveza to leap forward and join her apprentice.

“No!” Priscilla called.

“Don't worry about me! Go get them!” Aveza called back.

There was another gunshot, and Priscilla ducked. With a bitter determination, she lunged upwards towards the direction of the sound and pulled herself onto the roof once more. The winds pushed hard against her as she stood tall to face the person standing alone in front of her: Catherine Boston.

“I'm afraid this train shall take you to your final stop, Mrs. Spainhower,” the Templar called over the shriek of the train whistle.

“Where's Calhoun, Boston?” Priscilla spat, her hand going to her weapon belt.

“He's already gone, I'm afraid. Likely already in Washington by now. I'm merely here to be bait.”

Priscilla inwardly cursed. Of course. Calhoun had to know they were coming after him by now. He had her Key, which made him target number one. The coward fled.

“Calhoun will pay for all he's done, as will you!” She pulled out her bowie knife.

“Such a violent child. I'll be glad to rid the world of a vermin like you.”

Boston reached into her coat and from it drew a large dagger with an ivory handle. She drew back her skirts, shifting her outfit into a form more suitable for fighting. Both women's blades shined in the sunlight.

And they struck.

Priscilla leapt forward like a pouncing cat and swiped her weapon through the air at her foe. Boston ducked and spun around to swing at Priscilla from below. Priscilla raised her knife and countered the blow, shoving her weapon to the side in an attempt to throw Boston off balance.

Boston quickly recovered though, and stepped back a few feet to regain her bearings. Priscilla spun her knife in her hands for effect.

“Why do you keep defending people like Calhoun?” Priscilla asked. “How could you keep your fellow humans in such a state of oppression? You'd see your gender repressed for eternity, why?”

“Because that's the way it's been for centuries, child,” Boston spat. “Are you all so naive as to not see that? The world is build on a very fragile set of rules and traditions. To change them would bring the world to collapse.”

“So we're to move forward by staying in the same rotten place for all eternity? It's poor reasoning, Boston, and a poor offer.”

“It is the only way.”

With a yell, Boston darted forward, slicing quickly and methodically at Priscilla. Priscilla received a few scars, not expecting the speed of the attack, but she quickly recovered her bearings and struck back, making her opponent bleed as well.

“What do you think your fight will accomplish, child?” Boston said bitterly in the middle of the fight. “Do you think future generations will revere your name? Do you think they'll look kindly upon you when you're frivolous efforts tear this nation to shreds?”

“Frankly, Boston, I don't give a damn what the history books say about me,” Priscilla spat back. “But I know that when the future comes, and all are free and happy because of our efforts in the present, it'll be your grave that new generations spit on.”

Boston grit her teeth and thrust forward with a yell. Her dagger swung through the air, heading directly for Priscilla’s face. But her attack was sloppy, guided now by arrogant anger. Priscilla smiled. This was what she was waiting for.

As the blade came at her, she brought up her own knife and swung it hard to the left, sending the Templar sprawling off balance. As Boston fell, Priscilla took her advantage and at lightning speed engaged her hidden blade and used her foe’s momentum to drive it hard into her heart. Boston let out a cry of pain as Priscilla gripped her tight, lowered her to the ground, and time began to slow.

The heated atmosphere of the speeding train’s rooftop was muted and replaced with the empty mechanical hum of the Animus’s digital void. I regained just a enough of consciousness to watch my ancestor crouch beside her fallen enemy.

“So…” Boston croaked. “This is how it ends:bleeding at the end of an Assassin's blade. I had hoped I could've lived to see our work completed…”

“Your threat to the Women's Rights Movement is at an end. We will continue our meetings until our equality is achieved.”

Boston laughed. “Then you will be holding your meetings for the rest of time, Assassin. The hearts of men are too dark, too discriminatory for any change to take place, let alone be accepted.”

“See there lies the difference between you and I, Boston. My Creed is founded on a hope that never dies. A hope that one day, even if we don't live to see it, the world will change, and change for the better. Your order is nothing more than a bunch of tired saps that have given up trying.”

“Your endurance is inspiring child… Too bad it will destroy you…”

Priscilla said nothing. She simply looked down upon her prey.

“Where is Calhoun hiding?” she said.

Boston looked at her for a moment, debating whether or not there was any point in hiding it anymore.

“He's taken up residence in the Old Brick Capitol for his stay in Washington…” she said. “Best hurry if you want to catch him. I can see your hurry to tear the world down has no limits…”

With that, Boston’s eyes rolled back, and she breathed her last. Her lifeless body went limp, and Priscilla gently closed the Templar’s eyes.

“Nothing will ever get better if we take no action to make it so,” she said softly. “Rest in peace.”

She pulled a white handkerchief from her coat pocket and slid it across Boston’s red wound. She stood from the body as the sights and sounds of history replaced the void and kicked my mind out of my head for hers to take its place. Priscilla looked at the scenery that whizzed by her vision in a blur.

“Right then,” she said. “I think it's high time we made an unscheduled stop.”

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

March 31, 1850; Washington DC

After the train ordeal, Priscilla and Aveza met up again and made their way to Washington DC, arriving early in the morning.

“Been awhile since I've been here,” Aveza commented as they walked amongst the crowds. “I still remember the day I stood side-by-side with the British Army and burnt this place to the ground. Good times. Good times.”

Priscilla laughed, though her focus on the mission dulled her enthusiasm a bit. She was moments away from cornering the Templar Grand Master, moments from ridding the world of his evil and taking back the Key. Now was her moment for redemption.

They arrived at their destination: the Old Brick Capitol. It was a quaint little boarding school, nothing spectacular or flashy. Priscilla was actually rather surprised that Calhoun would chose this for a residence, even if it was temporary. Templar Grand Masters have a tendency to show off their influence in any way they can. Then again, perhaps all his other clowns in Congress had already taken all the good places. Priscilla didn't give it much thought. All she knew was that it would soon be the last place he ever took up residence in.

The Assassins walked right through the front door. The lady at the front desk looked up at them.

“Excuse me, girls, can I help you?”

“We're here to visit a friend,” Aveza said. “Is Mr. Calhoun in?”

“Um…” The woman looked her up and down, clearly put off by Aveza’s accent and skin tone. Aveza let it slide for now though, and simply smiled.

“Well?” she asked, not impolitely.

“Erm… Mr. Calhoun is in, ma'am. He's upstairs in his room, but…”

“Splendid! We'll head on up right away then!”

“But… now hold on! Wait!”

But the Assassins were already hurrying up the stairs. The desk attendant watched them go, uncertain of what to do, and eventually just sat back in her chair in defeat.

Priscilla used her Eagle Vision to find Calhoun’s silhouette through the doors and walls. She spotted him in the floor above them, lying in his bed, curled up under the sheets by the looks of it. Perfect. He didn't suspect a thing.

The two hurried to the room, picked the lock on the door, and entered. They tiptoed through the room, quiet as mice as they stalked like cats. They peaked around the bedroom door frame. Sure enough, he was still lying asleep in his bed. His back was turned to them. Priscilla smiled. This was it. Easy in. Easy out. It felt good to have a mission go so smoothly after such a wild journey.

She motioned for Aveza to stay back and began slowly and quietly creeping towards Calhoun. She took care to avoid any of the creaking floorboards, and eventually made it to the bedside. She didn't waste any time. In one fluid movement, she engaged her hidden blade, grabbed him tight, and ran him through.

But he didn't scream. He didn't even flinch.

Priscilla’s heart dropped. It hit her quickly: something was very wrong.

She looked nervously at Aveza, whose nerves were now also unsettled. Priscilla reached over, grabbed Calhoun’s covers, and yanked them away. The body rolled over on its back when the sheets pulled on it. Priscilla looked at it, jaw dropped and fists clenched.

It wasn't Calhoun.

It was some random Templar goon that Calhoun likely sacrificed to save his own skin. The body had been dead for at least a few hours by the look of it…

“Bloody he-” Aveza started to say as she stepped forward. But her sentence was interrupted, first by a muffled popping noise, then by a dart that lodged in her neck. Aveza started going wobbly as she reached behind her and pulled the dart out of her flesh for observation.

“Oh for the love of-”

And then she collapsed unconscious on the floor.

Priscilla gasped and spun in the direction of the shot. And who should she see but Cudgel Cormac, rifle in hand.

“It's a sleep dart, don't worry,” he said. “She'll be back up in a minute or so. Unfortunately, you'll both be in chains by the time that happens…”

“Dammit man! What in God's name is wrong with you?” Priscilla shouted, hidden blades raised. “Why do you defend a man like Calhoun? Don't you realize the destruction he's wrought?”

“I do, but I-”

“Oh of course you do. You just don't care, do you? You're just like all the rest then. You don’t care at all what happens to humanity. All that matters is that you come out on top!”

“Don't you dare claim to know me, girl!”

“I know enough to know a thick-headed imbecile who can't realize he's a slave to his master when I see one!”

“Enough!”

He raised his rifle high, aiming it at her face and pulling the trigger. Priscilla ducked out of the way just in time to dodge a dart and she dashed at him, blades raised. Cudgel barely had time to react. She thrust upwards and sliced his cheek. First blood to her.

Cudgel grabbed his duel daggers and came at her in response. Sparks went flying as metal clashed against metal.

“I've seen the way you think about Calhoun and his followers, Cormac!” Priscilla said as they fought. “I've seen the way you hate his nasty guts! I've seen the way you wish you could kill him, that you had the stones to!”

“Shut your gob!”

“No! I will not! I won't let my voice be silenced anymore, nor will I let anyone else’s be silenced! And if you were half the man your grandfather was, you'd do the same!”

Cudgel’s face turned red as he grit his teeth and thrust his blades forward with an angered shout. Priscilla ducked below his knives, and he quickly changed his blow’s direction to a downward thrust. But she did what he didn't expect and rolled between his legs, springing up behind him and kicking him hard on the back, sending him sprawling onto the floorboards. As he fell, Priscilla lunged forward and yanked his rifle from its sheath. When Cudgel hit the floor with a painful thud, he tried get up by rolling onto his back, but Priscilla stood on his chest to stop his progress. She cocked his rifle and put the end of the barrel a few inches from his skull. She looked directly into his eyes, her own filled with fiery fury. For a moment all they did was stare at one another, both breathing heavily.

“Listen here, you Templar dog,” she said through her teeth. “I don't like you and you don't like me. And you know what? That's perfectly fine by me. I don't give a damn whether or not we have a good relationship. But if you're too stupid to realize that we have a common enemy, that we both want that despicable snake Calhoun dead, then I honestly have no reason not to just kill you now. But if you're willing to just pull your head out of your stubborn rear-end and just this once work with us to save the world, then get off that damn floor right now, stop aiming this damned gun at me and my friends, and let's just get to work already!”

Cudgel was at a loss for words. He was clearly torn.

“Look,” Priscilla said, calming herself as best she could. “We both know if Calhoun succeeds in finding that Temple and getting what's inside, there is no hope for humanity. And I know that you want there to be at least some hope.”

Cudgel’s mouth wobbled as he went to war with himself in his mind and tried to find his words.

“It's… It’s too late,” he said. “Calhoun’s well on his way to the Temple by now. We'd never catch him in time…”

Priscilla’s eyes widened. “He knows where it is?!” she said.

“Aye. We found a few mentions of its location in one of William Henry Harrison’s journals… We knew you'd be hunting us down the second we set out for it, so we set a trap.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“About two hours ago.”

“Then there's still time to stop him. Cudgel, we can beat him together if we try. We can end his schemes. His racism, his sexism, his overall discriminatory influence will be gone.”

“It won't end with him… There's still plenty others to take his place.”

“Isn't ridding the world of one more snake a good enough start?”

Cudgel looked at her for a moment as he considered his options. Priscilla lowered the rifle, and in its place extended her hand.

“What do you say, Cudgel?” she said. “Want to save the world?”

Cudgel looked at her hand, then at her, then at her hand again. For a moment he said nothing, but eventually his mind was made up.

He took her hand.

Priscilla smiled. She stepped off his chest and helped him to his feet. “Good man,” she said to him, handing his rifle back to him. “Now let's go kill your boss.”

Cudgel managed to pull a small smile, and he nodded in agreement. Priscilla never thought she'd see the day when she'd find an ally in a Templar, yet here it was. And quite honestly, she was glad to have the new company.

Suddenly, Aveza awoke and groggily got back to her feet, rubbing her head and groaning. She looked at Priscilla, then at Cudgel, then at both of them.

“So,” she said. “What’d I miss?”