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Description
August 3, 1848; Hartford, Connecticut

“So Priscilla, how have things been in the States while I was gone?” Aveza asked as their carriage drove peacefully through the streets of Hartford. Priscilla turned from the window to face her mentor.

“Oh, the usual,” she said, always happy to make conversation. “Some good, some bad.”

“Do tell, dear.”

“Well, for starters, the war with Mexico finally ended.”

“Really? Well that's good to hear. Who won?”

“The United States.”

“I see.”

“Unfortunately, the Templars slipped in before we could. And with them came all the evils of their order. Slavery is rampant down there. Mexicans and Natives have been forced out of their homes and denied their rights. It's a disaster, quite frankly.”

“That is a shame to hear…”

“Yes. Here up north things have improved a bit more though. We've been trying to encourage reforms and convince our local politicians to turn against the bigoted status quo. It's not much, but it's certainly something.”

“I just hope we can make some changes down south before the Templars corrupt it beyond hope. If things vary too much from up here, things could get ugly.”

“The social systems are already massively different. Up here, we rely on industry. Down there, they cling to slavery. And they can't let go of it out of bigotry.”

“That Missouri Compromise rubbish you lot have going on isn't doing much to help it either, is it?”

“No. It's really not.”

Aveza sighed. “I just hope things improve soon. Because this country is a powder keg right now. Who knows? If things keep getting worse, it might lead to civil war.”

“Well, let's just hope it doesn't come to that. We'll keep doing what we can.”

Aveza smiled and nodded knowingly at her apprentice. Priscilla smiled back. Aveza took a quick glance out the window, and she sighed.

“You know,” she said. “Ol’ Connor used to have such hope for this nation. Back during the Revolution, he truly believed this country could mold itself into something new, something better than what was left behind.”

“So what happened?”

Aveza gave a short laugh. “That's just it,” she said. “Nothing happened. No changes were ever made, not really. Men of wealth and power still took control. Slavery was still prevalent, and, if anything, actually expanded. Racism and sexism just flourished when men like Calhoun and Jackson, and hell even that George Washington fellow took the reigns. I think Connor realized this pretty quickly. He realized that his goals were not paralleled by the Americans. That's why the Assassins switched allegiances to Canada during the War of 1812. Sure, my country isn't perfect, but it was certainly better than what the States had to offer.”

“You'll get no argument from me, mentor.”

Aveza laughed. “Then I know I taught you well,” she said.

The two laughed at that, and then they took a moment to enjoy the scenery outside the carriage once again, waiting to arrive at their destination.

“So,” Priscilla eventually said. “How was Europe?”

“Oh Europe was splendid, dear! I mean, there's been a bit of turmoil going on lately, but other than that, things were well.”

“Turmoil?”

“Yes. Some revolutionary zeal has been driving a bunch of uprisings across the continent. We've got agents keeping tabs on it all though, and it doesn't seem like anything that requires major attention.”

“What about London then?”

Aveza’s face suddenly shifted to one of discomfort. “London is… um… London is going rough for the Assassins...”

“Still?”

“Yes, unfortunately... Things have just never been the same since the Templars took over almost a century ago. And now that Ethan’s up and left for India, we're weaker there still…” She gazed out the window, lulling the subject over in her mind. A slight scowl appeared on her face. “If the damned council would pull their heads out of their arses and take some action for once, we might actually be able to take back the city.” She turned to Priscilla. “I tell you: all they have to do is just send in two or three agents to start eliminating some major Templars and gaining the support of the people, and we could rip London straight out of Crawford Starrick’s hands.”

“So why don't they?”

Aveza threw her hands in the air. “Because they're bloody scarred,” she said. “I never thought I'd see the day when the Assassins ran away with their tails between their legs. ‘Oh, but dearie, the Templars are simply too strong, too numerous, it's just too dangerous to try’. Bloody hell! The Brotherhood’s tackled worse odds than this! I just… urrrgh!”

Priscilla reached over and jokingly patted Aveza’s shoulder, causing her to laugh.

“Sorry dear,” she said. “I just get very irritated by this. There's a reason we try to avoid forming councils in our branches. They grow arrogant and stupid and stuck on policy because it gets in their head that they and they alone are responsible for everything. Altaïr understood that; he knew the only way we could function is if we all work as equal and independent individuals. Establishing a council just… ugh. Whatever. One of these days they'll get the sense knocked into them. I give it twenty years.”

“Twenty?”

“Twenty.”

“Well then I eagerly await 1868.”

Aveza laughed at that. “As do I, Priscilla, as do I. Oh! Look at that! We've arrived at the shop!”

Aveza tapped the roof of the carriage with her cane, signaling the driver to stop and come over to open the door for the two ladies. Priscilla put some coin in his hand and bid him good day before she followed Aveza into the large shop on the side of the road.

The shop bell rang when the two entered. “Sam!” Aveza immediately called. “It's Aveza! We're here!” Priscilla looked around the shop. The shelves were stocked with pistols and rifles of all sorts. But there was one thing that stood out to Priscilla the most.

“There's no one here,” she said.

“Hmm? Oh yes,” Aveza said. “Sam’s been working on something special for me so we needed to come in after hours.”

“I see.” Priscilla’s eyes floated over the shelves of guns. One in particular caught her eye, a sleek silver revolver with leaf patterns etched into the metal, and an engraving of ‘non timebo mala’ along the barrel. It stood alone on a special display shelf. She reached out to examine it, but Aveza’s hand suddenly halted her progress.

“Ah ah,” Aveza said, a cheeky smile on her face.. “I wouldn't touch that one if I were you. That one's special.”

“Special?”

“Aye. Sam made that one for a good friend back in 1835. Poor man died during that little skirmish down in Texas that year.”

“An Assassin?”

“No, but something special that's for sure. He was a great hunter, let's just say. Sam will attest to that.”

“I see…” Priscilla pulled her hand away from the gun. “Who's Sam by the way?” she suddenly thought to ask.

“Oh! He’s a friend of mine. Man's a great inventor when it comes to weapons. Best pistol-maker out there.”

A new voice suddenly chimed in: “Better believe I am.”

The Assassins turned to face the man who appeared from the other room and walked behind the counter. Aveza smiled. “Priscilla,” she said. “Allow me to introduce you to Samuel Colt. Sam, this is my apprentice, Priscilla Spainhower.”

“Nice to meet you,” Priscilla said with a smile.

“Pleasure’s mine,” said Sam.

“Have you finished up that little gadget I showed you?” Aveza asked him.

Sam smiled and nodded. He reached into his coat and pulled out the object in question. Priscilla looked it over as he placed it on the countertop. It was a hidden blade and bracer, but attached to the side of it was something unfamiliar to her. It looked like a metal tube with a pump and a coil of rope attached to one end, and a metal hook in the shape of an Assassin insignia on the other end.

“What's that?” she inquired.

“That,” Sam said, “is a rope launcher. Modified specially to fit right onto the bracers that you Assassins wear.”

Aveza picked it up and studied it gleefully. “I managed to steal a few blueprints off some Templars while I was in London,” she explained to Priscilla. “They're working on a sort of grappling gun device that would allow them to scale rooftops in seconds. I figured such a thing would prove rather useful in our line of work, and so I brought the plans to Sam here to see if he could do a little tinkering.”

She passed it to Priscilla.

“Here,” she said. “Try it on.”

“You sure?”

“At my age, I feel this thing may give me too much of a rush if I tried to use it properly.”

Priscilla laughed. “Since when do you get too much of a rush?”

“Since I pushed two tiny people out of my nether regions,” Aveza joked. “Now go on, try it out, dear!” Priscilla smiled and took the new bracer. She slipped off her old hidden blade and put on the new one, flicking it in and out a few times to test it.

“It's a nice fit,” she said.

“Glad to hear it,” said Sam. “I'd wait until you got outside to test the rope launcher though. That thing goes pretty far pretty fast.”

“Got it.”

Aveza reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of currency, which she handed to Sam. “Thanks so much, Sam,” she said. “This'll definitely help out in the coming years.”

“It's no problem, Aveza. Are you two on a mission right now, by chance?”

“We are.”

“Hunting anyone I know?”

“Well, that's the thing. We don't even know specifically who we're hunting. We do know what we're hunting though.”

“And that is?”

“Something special. A pendant of sorts. I'm afraid Priscilla let it slip into enemy hands…”

Priscilla couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed again. The blame fell on her for losing the Key. She had to get it back. She had to make up for what she did.

“Did this pendant have an odd glow to it?” Sam asked, surprising the ladies.

“Well… yes it did actually,” Priscilla said.

“Have you seen it, Sam?”

“I might’ve. Some politician came strolling in here the other day, all full of himself and what not. He was making a trip to Wisconsin and said he wanted to buy my best guns for ‘extra protection’.”

“Who was he?”

“Man's name was Ray. James B. Ray.”

Priscilla and Aveza looked at each other in a combination of excitement and urgency. “Wisconsin, you said?” Priscilla asked eagerly.

“Yep. That's what he said. Man seemed to have caught something nasty though. He probably won't make it all the way. I'm told he has family in Cincinnati. My guess is that's where he'll probably stop if his illness gets too bad.”

The Assassins nodded thankfully. “Then that's where we'll be heading too,” Aveza said. “Thank you so much, Sam.”

“Anything for my best customer. Speaking of which…”

He reached underneath the counter and pulled out a pistol, which he offered to them. Aveza took it and handed it to Priscilla. She studied the weapon in her hands and whistled. “Nice,” she said.

“One of my newest models,” said Sam. “Fires six shots before reload and functions like a dream. If you need a man dead, that'll do the trick.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Colt,” Priscilla said.

“No problem. Now, I'd get going if I were you. The sooner the world has one less politician in it, the better.”

The Assassins nodded. They thanked their friend one last time before saying goodbye and heading out the door.

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

August 4, 1848; Cincinnati, Ohio

The next day, Priscilla and Aveza found themselves stepping off the train and into the streets of Cincinnati. After taking a brief moment to walk the streets and appreciate the lively nature of the city, to admire the people they vowed to protect and preserve, they began to search for any signs to James B. Ray’s whereabouts.

From pickpocketed letters and eavesdropped conversations, the Assassins discovered that Ray had taken up residence in a mansion owned by a relative in order to recover from his illness. If he had the Key, that was where the Assassins needed to be.

...Or rather, where Priscilla needed to be.

“Right, I'll leave you to it,” Aveza told her as they stood on the sidewalk across the street from the Templar mansion.

“What?” Priscilla asked before her mentor made to leave.

“What?” Aveza asked.

“You're just going to leave?”

“This is your mission, Priscilla.”

“But…”

“Sweetie, I can't hold your hand all the time. You need to go in there yourself. You need to prove to me you can do this right, unlike last time.”

Priscilla wanted to say something, but she knew Aveza was right. She lowered her head knowingly. “Yes, Mentor...” she said.

“Atta girl! I'll be at the train station ready to leave when you get back. Now, off you pop! Best of luck!”

And with that, Aveza was gone, leaving Priscilla to stare at the mansion, at its guards and other security measures, wondering what the next course of action should be.

Description
August 3, 1848; Hartford, Connecticut

“So Priscilla, how have things been in the States while I was gone?” Aveza asked as their carriage drove peacefully through the streets of Hartford. Priscilla turned from the window to face her mentor.

“Oh, the usual,” she said, always happy to make conversation. “Some good, some bad.”

“Do tell, dear.”

“Well, for starters, the war with Mexico finally ended.”

“Really? Well that's good to hear. Who won?”

“The United States.”

“I see.”

“Unfortunately, the Templars slipped in before we could. And with them came all the evils of their order. Slavery is rampant down there. Mexicans and Natives have been forced out of their homes and denied their rights. It's a disaster, quite frankly.”

“That is a shame to hear…”

“Yes. Here up north things have improved a bit more though. We've been trying to encourage reforms and convince our local politicians to turn against the bigoted status quo. It's not much, but it's certainly something.”

“I just hope we can make some changes down south before the Templars corrupt it beyond hope. If things vary too much from up here, things could get ugly.”

“The social systems are already massively different. Up here, we rely on industry. Down there, they cling to slavery. And they can't let go of it out of bigotry.”

“That Missouri Compromise rubbish you lot have going on isn't doing much to help it either, is it?”

“No. It's really not.”

Aveza sighed. “I just hope things improve soon. Because this country is a powder keg right now. Who knows? If things keep getting worse, it might lead to civil war.”

“Well, let's just hope it doesn't come to that. We'll keep doing what we can.”

Aveza smiled and nodded knowingly at her apprentice. Priscilla smiled back. Aveza took a quick glance out the window, and she sighed.

“You know,” she said. “Ol’ Connor used to have such hope for this nation. Back during the Revolution, he truly believed this country could mold itself into something new, something better than what was left behind.”

“So what happened?”

Aveza gave a short laugh. “That's just it,” she said. “Nothing happened. No changes were ever made, not really. Men of wealth and power still took control. Slavery was still prevalent, and, if anything, actually expanded. Racism and sexism just flourished when men like Calhoun and Jackson, and hell even that George Washington fellow took the reigns. I think Connor realized this pretty quickly. He realized that his goals were not paralleled by the Americans. That's why the Assassins switched allegiances to Canada during the War of 1812. Sure, my country isn't perfect, but it was certainly better than what the States had to offer.”

“You'll get no argument from me, mentor.”

Aveza laughed. “Then I know I taught you well,” she said.

The two laughed at that, and then they took a moment to enjoy the scenery outside the carriage once again, waiting to arrive at their destination.

“So,” Priscilla eventually said. “How was Europe?”

“Oh Europe was splendid, dear! I mean, there's been a bit of turmoil going on lately, but other than that, things were well.”

“Turmoil?”

“Yes. Some revolutionary zeal has been driving a bunch of uprisings across the continent. We've got agents keeping tabs on it all though, and it doesn't seem like anything that requires major attention.”

“What about London then?”

Aveza’s face suddenly shifted to one of discomfort. “London is… um… London is going rough for the Assassins...”

“Still?”

“Yes, unfortunately... Things have just never been the same since the Templars took over almost a century ago. And now that Ethan’s up and left for India, we're weaker there still…” She gazed out the window, lulling the subject over in her mind. A slight scowl appeared on her face. “If the damned council would pull their heads out of their arses and take some action for once, we might actually be able to take back the city.” She turned to Priscilla. “I tell you: all they have to do is just send in two or three agents to start eliminating some major Templars and gaining the support of the people, and we could rip London straight out of Crawford Starrick’s hands.”

“So why don't they?”

Aveza threw her hands in the air. “Because they're bloody scarred,” she said. “I never thought I'd see the day when the Assassins ran away with their tails between their legs. ‘Oh, but dearie, the Templars are simply too strong, too numerous, it's just too dangerous to try’. Bloody hell! The Brotherhood’s tackled worse odds than this! I just… urrrgh!”

Priscilla reached over and jokingly patted Aveza’s shoulder, causing her to laugh.

“Sorry dear,” she said. “I just get very irritated by this. There's a reason we try to avoid forming councils in our branches. They grow arrogant and stupid and stuck on policy because it gets in their head that they and they alone are responsible for everything. Altaïr understood that; he knew the only way we could function is if we all work as equal and independent individuals. Establishing a council just… ugh. Whatever. One of these days they'll get the sense knocked into them. I give it twenty years.”

“Twenty?”

“Twenty.”

“Well then I eagerly await 1868.”

Aveza laughed at that. “As do I, Priscilla, as do I. Oh! Look at that! We've arrived at the shop!”

Aveza tapped the roof of the carriage with her cane, signaling the driver to stop and come over to open the door for the two ladies. Priscilla put some coin in his hand and bid him good day before she followed Aveza into the large shop on the side of the road.

The shop bell rang when the two entered. “Sam!” Aveza immediately called. “It's Aveza! We're here!” Priscilla looked around the shop. The shelves were stocked with pistols and rifles of all sorts. But there was one thing that stood out to Priscilla the most.

“There's no one here,” she said.

“Hmm? Oh yes,” Aveza said. “Sam’s been working on something special for me so we needed to come in after hours.”

“I see.” Priscilla’s eyes floated over the shelves of guns. One in particular caught her eye, a sleek silver revolver with leaf patterns etched into the metal, and an engraving of ‘non timebo mala’ along the barrel. It stood alone on a special display shelf. She reached out to examine it, but Aveza’s hand suddenly halted her progress.

“Ah ah,” Aveza said, a cheeky smile on her face.. “I wouldn't touch that one if I were you. That one's special.”

“Special?”

“Aye. Sam made that one for a good friend back in 1835. Poor man died during that little skirmish down in Texas that year.”

“An Assassin?”

“No, but something special that's for sure. He was a great hunter, let's just say. Sam will attest to that.”

“I see…” Priscilla pulled her hand away from the gun. “Who's Sam by the way?” she suddenly thought to ask.

“Oh! He’s a friend of mine. Man's a great inventor when it comes to weapons. Best pistol-maker out there.”

A new voice suddenly chimed in: “Better believe I am.”

The Assassins turned to face the man who appeared from the other room and walked behind the counter. Aveza smiled. “Priscilla,” she said. “Allow me to introduce you to Samuel Colt. Sam, this is my apprentice, Priscilla Spainhower.”

“Nice to meet you,” Priscilla said with a smile.

“Pleasure’s mine,” said Sam.

“Have you finished up that little gadget I showed you?” Aveza asked him.

Sam smiled and nodded. He reached into his coat and pulled out the object in question. Priscilla looked it over as he placed it on the countertop. It was a hidden blade and bracer, but attached to the side of it was something unfamiliar to her. It looked like a metal tube with a pump and a coil of rope attached to one end, and a metal hook in the shape of an Assassin insignia on the other end.

“What's that?” she inquired.

“That,” Sam said, “is a rope launcher. Modified specially to fit right onto the bracers that you Assassins wear.”

Aveza picked it up and studied it gleefully. “I managed to steal a few blueprints off some Templars while I was in London,” she explained to Priscilla. “They're working on a sort of grappling gun device that would allow them to scale rooftops in seconds. I figured such a thing would prove rather useful in our line of work, and so I brought the plans to Sam here to see if he could do a little tinkering.”

She passed it to Priscilla.

“Here,” she said. “Try it on.”

“You sure?”

“At my age, I feel this thing may give me too much of a rush if I tried to use it properly.”

Priscilla laughed. “Since when do you get too much of a rush?”

“Since I pushed two tiny people out of my nether regions,” Aveza joked. “Now go on, try it out, dear!” Priscilla smiled and took the new bracer. She slipped off her old hidden blade and put on the new one, flicking it in and out a few times to test it.

“It's a nice fit,” she said.

“Glad to hear it,” said Sam. “I'd wait until you got outside to test the rope launcher though. That thing goes pretty far pretty fast.”

“Got it.”

Aveza reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of currency, which she handed to Sam. “Thanks so much, Sam,” she said. “This'll definitely help out in the coming years.”

“It's no problem, Aveza. Are you two on a mission right now, by chance?”

“We are.”

“Hunting anyone I know?”

“Well, that's the thing. We don't even know specifically who we're hunting. We do know what we're hunting though.”

“And that is?”

“Something special. A pendant of sorts. I'm afraid Priscilla let it slip into enemy hands…”

Priscilla couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed again. The blame fell on her for losing the Key. She had to get it back. She had to make up for what she did.

“Did this pendant have an odd glow to it?” Sam asked, surprising the ladies.

“Well… yes it did actually,” Priscilla said.

“Have you seen it, Sam?”

“I might’ve. Some politician came strolling in here the other day, all full of himself and what not. He was making a trip to Wisconsin and said he wanted to buy my best guns for ‘extra protection’.”

“Who was he?”

“Man's name was Ray. James B. Ray.”

Priscilla and Aveza looked at each other in a combination of excitement and urgency. “Wisconsin, you said?” Priscilla asked eagerly.

“Yep. That's what he said. Man seemed to have caught something nasty though. He probably won't make it all the way. I'm told he has family in Cincinnati. My guess is that's where he'll probably stop if his illness gets too bad.”

The Assassins nodded thankfully. “Then that's where we'll be heading too,” Aveza said. “Thank you so much, Sam.”

“Anything for my best customer. Speaking of which…”

He reached underneath the counter and pulled out a pistol, which he offered to them. Aveza took it and handed it to Priscilla. She studied the weapon in her hands and whistled. “Nice,” she said.

“One of my newest models,” said Sam. “Fires six shots before reload and functions like a dream. If you need a man dead, that'll do the trick.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Colt,” Priscilla said.

“No problem. Now, I'd get going if I were you. The sooner the world has one less politician in it, the better.”

The Assassins nodded. They thanked their friend one last time before saying goodbye and heading out the door.

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

August 4, 1848; Cincinnati, Ohio

The next day, Priscilla and Aveza found themselves stepping off the train and into the streets of Cincinnati. After taking a brief moment to walk the streets and appreciate the lively nature of the city, to admire the people they vowed to protect and preserve, they began to search for any signs to James B. Ray’s whereabouts.

From pickpocketed letters and eavesdropped conversations, the Assassins discovered that Ray had taken up residence in a mansion owned by a relative in order to recover from his illness. If he had the Key, that was where the Assassins needed to be.

...Or rather, where Priscilla needed to be.

“Right, I'll leave you to it,” Aveza told her as they stood on the sidewalk across the street from the Templar mansion.

“What?” Priscilla asked before her mentor made to leave.

“What?” Aveza asked.

“You're just going to leave?”

“This is your mission, Priscilla.”

“But…”

“Sweetie, I can't hold your hand all the time. You need to go in there yourself. You need to prove to me you can do this right, unlike last time.”

Priscilla wanted to say something, but she knew Aveza was right. She lowered her head knowingly. “Yes, Mentor...” she said.

“Atta girl! I'll be at the train station ready to leave when you get back. Now, off you pop! Best of luck!”

And with that, Aveza was gone, leaving Priscilla to stare at the mansion, at its guards and other security measures, wondering what the next course of action should be.