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Chapter One: The Assassin from Mohawk Valley[]

New England, 1776. Winter had taken it's toll on the Frontier as an American Bald Eagle glided over hundreds of trees, burdened with thick white snow.

After the predator surveyed a very familiar landscape, the eagle decided to dive for a change of pace and gracefully soared through the trees with the greatest of ease.

As the eagle did so, it noticed a figure in the distance moving through the upper branches of the trees, with almost as much elegance as the eagle itself. As the bird of prey drew closer, it almost mistaken the figures head for its own.

The agile figure kept a healthy pace whilst free running effortlessly through the variety of upper branches. This method of moving through the Frontier was a lot quicker than trying to move through the thick snow that lay on the ground. As the free runner leaped across to a slightly lower branch, an American Bald Eagle flew right past him, as if to acknowledge his talents.

His name was Connor Kenway and he smiled at the thought as he watched the eagle show him how it's done, as it's wings disappeared into the distance.

He was a skilled assassin of the Assassin Order, and unbeknownst to the eagle, the Order had taken much inspiration from the cunning bird of prey. Furthermore, it has continued to be the symbol of the Creed for centuries. The front of Connors white hood was embroidered with the symbol of the eagle and the hood did also look like the beak of the iconic bird.

Connor had almost reached his desired spot and decided to take to the ground from here on out. He hopped onto lower branches until he was low enough to jump down onto the ground without injury.

Usually Connor would be hunting down Templars, who have been the sworn enemies of the Assassin's since the beginning. However, hunting deer was his current focus.

The assassin predominately wore white clothing, to help blend into his current surroundings. He wore a white colonist style coat with blue button trim, a red sash, dark blue trousers, with a pair of brown leather boots and material that came up above his knees. As well as brown forearm protecters that offered defence against blades and heavy attacks.

He also carried an array of weapons with him, including duel pistols, a bow and arrow, a rope dart and a deadly tomahawk with a customised blade, shaped like the insignia of the Assassin Order. Also, each of his leather forearm protectors housed the assassin's favourite weapon, which is a hidden spring-blade.

The assassin makes his way through the snow which was thinning out, as he sees deer in a clearing. He crouches into some tall plant life at the edge of the clearing and moved slowly through the leaves, stalking his prey.

It reminded him of when his father taught him how to hunt using a bow. He always had remind Connor to be patient and wait for his opportune moment. The hooded assassin now understood the importance of his fathers advice.

As the deer scratched at the snow to reveal the grass underneath, Connor began to concentrate on the area around of him. He watched the deer closely as it slowly leaned its head towards the grass, and as it did so, the deer glimmered through the assassin's eyes. The hooded assassin was now fully in-tuned with his surroundings and it was time to hunt.

Connor takes his bow from around his shoulder and back, takes a arrow from his sheaf and draws the arrow back slowly on his bow. He fires and hits the deer in the chest. The other deers scatter as the predator emerges from the bushes at the edge of the clearing.

As white skies began to snow on the Frontier once more, the hooded assassin thought about the American Revolutionary War.

A war between the United States and Great Britain, that had consumed the land for almost two very long years. Connor was half Native American and half British - and so often felt very conflicted as to whom he should be fighting for.

He had seen many innocent people lose their lives for this war, and what he did know is that he wanted to end the tyranny and fight for justice.

The Order has taught him that Templar's were great puppet masters. Often pulling the strings in many historical wars in the past, and this War of Independence was no exception.

Connor makes his way back through the thickening snow to a Continental Army camp, where he planned to trade meat and pelt from the deer he'd hunted for information on a possible Templar location. The two guards stationed at the entrance of the based watched the assassin closely as he walked past them without saying a word. Connor's eyes were shaded by his beaked white hood. They didn't like that.

The Continental camp was made up of tents, some where men would sleep and others for when doctors would give comfort to wounded Patriots. Various tents hung the Patriot flag proudly of red and white stripes, with thirteen white stars in the top lefthand corner on a blue background.

Connor approached a butcher who was dealing with the meat for the camp and handed over the deer meat and pelt.

'Ah thank you,' said the butcher beaming. 'This is greatly appreciated. Err, we also need meat tomorrow if -'

The assassin interrupts, 'Sorry, I won't be around tomorrow.'

'Ah, I see,' replied the Butcher. 'Well, thanks again.'

A Patriot soldier, who has the information that the assassin needed then approached him.

'Welcome back,' the soldier said a little surprised. 'I presumed you'd be out their longer?!'

He glanced over at the butcher,'That meat'll feed the men well,' he said delighted.

'Are you staying?' asked the soldier.

Connor wasn't fully content with the arrangement. Part of him felt that by handing over the meat and pelt, he was supplying fuel to his enemy, as well as warming their backs. But the assassin had little choice if he was to locate the Templar.

'Where can I find Taecan?' asked Connor, ignoring the question.

'Hmm, straight to'it huh?!' the soldier said smiling. 'What business do you have with this man anyway?'

'Where is Taecan?' the assassin's tone was a little more stern this time.

'Fine, fine,' said the soldier, abandoning all hope of bounding. 'He's in a small British fort guarded by his men, about a half mile north of here.'

Connor nodded and moved past the Patriot soldier towards the north entrance. He quickly jumped on a horse that was standing outside the edge of the base and began riding towards the British fort.

As the horse progressed through the Frontier, the snow felt as if was dropping heavier. Connor kept his eyes open for the first signs of the fort and he did have to wait long.

The hooded assassin slowed his horse to a stop and noticed Patriots behind trees slowly moving up towards the very same fort. Connor jumped off the horse and scaled a nearby tall tree to get a better view of the land ahead. Once satisfied, he swiftly made his way through the upper branches of the trees once more, until he could clearly see the forts entrance.

Half a dozen Redcoats were patrolling past the entrance to the fort, whilst two were stationed at the entrance itself. Connor felt that the temperature had dropped in his surroundings, but the assassin's skin burned with adenosine as he anticipated killing his prey after waiting for so long.

As he waited for his moment, one of the guards stationed at the entrance begins to speak.

'Hey, did ya hear 'bout the British fort that was attacked along the cliff the other week?' asked one Redcoat to the other.

'Nah, wha'appened?'

'Well, there were thirty odd men in that base, and nine were said to be killed by a mysterious man,' the guard paused in mind thought. 'They said it was the work of a white ghost.'

'What a buncha bullocks,' the other guard replied.

As he watched the guards below, he remembered that battle well and smiled at the thought. In that instance, a second patrol of half a dozen men were moving past the tree that Conner was standing on. Now was his time to attack.

The hooded assassin silently leaped from the high branch, diving almost eagle-like onto the unsuspecting enemies below. Connor extended his two hidden spring-blades in midair and simultaneously landed and stabbed the last two Redcoats in the six man patrol, killing them instantly.

Connor had four Redcoats a few steps ahead of him, a further two stationed at the entrance, plus the other six-man patrol that would return in moments. Not to mention countless Redcoats inside the actual fort. The assassin had his work cut out for him - just how he like it.

The white ghost grabbed his rope dart, throw it out and attached it around one of the Redcoat's neck. He pulled the soldier hard towards him with one arm and stabbed him in the chest with a hidden blade with the other. After the initial shock of the surprise attack, the three remaining Redcoats of the patrol came raging at the assassin with their bayonets at the ready.

Connor extended his left hidden blade, swivelled the blade with his fingers and grabbed the handle to use the blade as a knife. He also armed himself with his tomahawk in his right hand. He effortlessly dodged the first attack, stabbing the soldier in the chest with his knife and blocked the second attack, slicing the next Redcoat with his tomahawk. The final Redcoat of the six-man patrol wasn't feeling as confident anymore, but Connor didn't give the chance to escape by approaching fast and hitting him with tomahawk in the side of the neck.

After a successful kill chain, Connor moved quickly towards the entrance of the fort where the two guards had evidently called on the other six-man patrol.

'The assassin is 'ere! Seize him!'

Before any of the Redcoats could aim their rifles, Connor boosts into a sprint, jumped one on the nearest enemies chest, causing them to fall backward and hit the floor hard. The assassin rolled forward as soon as the Redcoats shoulders hit the floor. Once up, he was surround by the patrol and various other Redcoats - which was exactly where he wanted to be. The closer Connor was, the less likely they were to fire their rifles.

Redcoats moved on the assassin, attacking relentlessly with their bayonets but Connor moved with such fluidity and was able to quickly courter each attack using his knife and simultaneously attack with his tomahawk.

Ten Redcoats had fallen by Connor's blades and only two of the immediate soldiers that surrounded him just outside the entrance of the fort remained. They began walking backwards through the entrance of the fort in retreat with their rifles outstretched. 'The assassin! H-He's here!'

With frightened bayonets pointed towards him, the assassin continues his run into the fort. The first Redcoat thrusts his blade at Connor who dodges, turns and slices his tomahawk against the side of the soldiers head. The assassin holstered his tomahawk, moved fast towards the remaining soldier immediately in front and used his dagger and other hidden spring-blade to stab him in the chest three times.

Connor had made it into the British fort and scanned the open interior for the Templar Taecan. The entrance was on an upper ridge and Connor looked down into a dug out area with stacks of black powder barrels and another two dozen Redcoats readying their weapons, with the intentions of aiming up towards him.

In a heartbeat, the assassin readied his bow and drew back an arrow aiming for a stack of black powder barrels. He fired, instantly causing the barrels to explode violently, killing a few Redcoats nearby who were aiming at the assassin. To Connor's advantage, the explosion caused a neighbouring stack of barrels to quickly follow suit. This distracted the remaining soldiers that were aiming up towards him.

Moments later, Patriots who were slowly making their way up towards the British fort, were now running through the open entrance with renewed confidence. They must've heard the explosions Connor thought to himself. The hooded assassin made his way round to the right, to get a better view of the grounds below as the Patriots got into position on the ridge. Without hesitation, they readied their rifles and fired upon the disorientated Redcoats below.

Connor scanned the lower level of the fort again. He was growing inpatient and was growing ever more hungry for Templar blood.

The hooded assassin decided to make his way along the righthand side of the upper ridge and spotted a man on the lower level who looked out of place amongst the rest of the Redcoats. At that moment, he looked up towards Conner with a powerful sense of fear flooding his face. Finally, Connor thought to himself.

The Templar mades a break for the west entrance of the fort. Connor didn't hesitate to jump down to the lower level in pursuit, whilst most of the Patriots also made their way down to face the remaining Redcoats in hand-to-hand combat.

Patriot and Redcoat soldiers were too preoccupied bloodying each other, to notice a white ghost swiftly make his was through the various one-on-one battles.

Connor saw the Templar frantically make his way to the other side of the fort and out of the west entrance. The assassin quickened his pace, determined not to lose his prey. As the Templar struggled through the thick snow, Connor quickly gained on him and ran up a thick, accenting branch that conveniently towered around fifteen feet above the panicked Templar.

Once at the peek, Connor launched himself off and with expert precision, landed on the Templar hard. The assassin drew his tomahawk and quickly turned him over after the Templar has face planted the snow.

'Please! No!' the Templar cried.

'So many innocences have fallen by your hands.' said Connor bitterly. 'Men, women - children ... And I will be the one to avenge them!'

The hooded assassin pulled open one side of the man's Redcoat with his tomahawk to find his Templar chain - but their was nothing. No chain, no symbol and no sign that this man was indeed a Templar.

'W-What do you want from me?' asked the man, with his arms raised showing Connor the palms of his hands in a surrendering gesture.

'Are you not the Templar known as Taecan? Connor asked aggressively.

'Mi n-name is Taecan. B-but I'm not a T-Templar.'

Connor took a few steps back, steering at the man's face in bewilderment. This had never happened before. As part of the Assassin Order, the assassins followed the Creed, which were a set of rules that all assassin's must abide by. 'Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent', was one rule of great importance and an assassin should never fail to identity their target, so to eliminate the risk of harming an innocent.

The trouble assassin understood full well that the Redcoat before him was far from innocent, but that being said, he was also no Templar. Connor was usually sure of his targets when he hunted, because that's how the Order trained him to be. Had he made a mistake? No. This was a trick. He had been manipulated by the very person who supplied him with the information.

Anger began to surge through Connor's body as he gripped his tomahawk more tightly. As he did so, he saw a fresh wave of fear come over the man's expression. The Redcoat begged for his life without words, but luckily for him, the hooded assassin was no longer interested in taking his life.

To the man's surprise, Connor turned and began to walk back towards the British fort. As he neared the west entrance, he could sense the battle inside had already finished.

Connor extended a spring-blade dagger and flipped the blade into his fingers, as he stormed into the fort looking for the Patriot that had supplied him with false information. As he walked through the fort, parts of the lower lever still had small fires, caused by the black powder barrels.

The Patriots had killed the majority of Redcoats that Connor had left for them and had taken a handful as prisoners. Connor spotted the Patriot he was after talking with one of his soldiers.

Another soldier spotted Conner and approached him with appreciation, 'Assassin! I hear you're to thank for this -' before he could finish, Connor twisted the soldiers arm that was now across his shoulder and pushed him to the ground hard, whilst continuing to walk.

Another Patriot steps forward. 'Hey! You can't just -' Connor interrupts him with a quick fist to the solar plexus and finishes by hitting the guy with the butt of his dagger in the side of the head, knocking him out cold.

The hooded assassin rounded on the Patriot who supplied the information, grabbed a scruff of his clothes, pushes him up against the wall of the upper ridge and extends his right hidden spring-blade. With the blade point millimetres away from piecing his neck.


'No, Connor - I told you the truth!'

The blade was now drawing blood, as the assassin lost all patience.

'I-I was given the information by another!'

'By who?'


Name watched the truth unfold from among a patrol of Redcoats who had gathered behind Connor and drew a dagger from inside his coat. Two other Redcoats loyal to Tellis' cause, flanked him either side and drew out their own daggers seconds later. Whilst Connor was distracted, the three opportunists moved in for the kill.

As Connor realised that he wasn't the only one being played, an arrow raced from out of the trees hanging above the fort and hit one of the flanking Redcoats square in the chest.

Tellis and the remaining Redcoat quickened their pace to do the deed. Connor smiled and turned his head just in time to see a broad looking assassin move towards the two remaining threats from behind, with speed. The huge hooded figure stabbed the remaining Redcoat in the chest from behind, killing him instantly.

'The last one's yours,' said the assassin in a deep voice.

Tellis' confidence temporary wavered, but was then renewed as he remembered his beliefs.

'For the Father of Understanding!' cried Tellis plunging the dagger towards Connor's chest.

Connor dodged low to avoid the attack and effortlessly came up to brake the man's neck.

The second assassin approached him, wearing the same assassin attire as the Connor, although slightly different in places as if customised for his big frame and also wore a black patch over his right eye. The assassin towered over Connor, but as intimidating as he looked and despite his recent actions, their was a manner about him that suggested that he could gentle.

Connor turned his gaze from the huge hood in front of him and up towards the trees from which the arrow has appeared. Moments later, a third assassin leaped from the brunches of a tall tree, landed and immediately rolled forward so to avoid injury.

The shape and elegance of the third assassin's attire made it evident that she was a female.

'Did you see that shot Ethan?'

'Yeah, you must've been forty yards out ah?!' said the towering assassin with admiration in his voice. 'I've always said you're the best with a bow.'

The female assassin smiled at the compliment as she joined the other two, 'It's good to see you Connor. It's been too long.'

'You too Ava,' he smiled. 'It's good to see you both.'

Six years earlier. Boston, 1770. Connor walked through the streets of a winter stricken Boston, in search for the highest point.

Connor didn't have to look for long as he approached the great Old North Church. He moved to the shadowed side of the building and began scaling the walls of the church.

The assassin ascended the steeple to reach a thick wooden beam near the top that extended around a meter away from the stone. Connor crouched on the wooden, confident in his balance and looked out at the town, which had been blanked by a layer of snow.

Darkness slowly descend over the town below as the sun was setting in the far distance. This was the assassin's favourite perspective.

The thick snow made the town appear to be completely silent, as the hooded assassin briefly turned his thoughts as to why he was in Boston. Connor had recently joined the Assassin Order and they had supplied him with information on a Templar that was sighted in this town recently. But before the eagle could hunt and before the mission could proceed, the bird of prey needed to get his bearings.

Surveying the lands and learning his surroundings was an integral part of the process. Connor glared over the snowy town, examining the rooftops of various houses and trade shops, which he knew he would grow accustomed to in due time. He also mapped out where the open streets were and also where the narrow alleyways led, so to make a potential quick escape. The more he memorised, the more likely it was that he would be successful in his mission.

Dark shadows now gripped the town as the sun had no desire to share it's light any longer. Connor decided that he had absorbed as much visual information as he needed.

Connor stood up straight and moved to the very edge of the narrow wooden beam, with the wind rippling his hood as he took one last look at the town below.

The hooded assassin then took a slow deep breath and jumped off the beam, performing the Assassin ritual called the leap of faith. Connor fell 170 feet and landed in a thick hay bale, that had been conveniently placed below.

Contrary to popular belief, he always disliked the landing, as it often bruised his tall bone. Connor moved out of the hay bale, dusted the loose hay from his shoulders and began walking through the quite streets of Boston.

Connor made his way through various streets, as if to test his own knowledge of the town, before attempting to find shelter in order to rest.

The Redcoats presence in the town was becoming evermore apparent to the hooded assassin as he spotted small patrols dotted in and around numerous streets. Connor wondered whether the Redcoats had any real influence over Boston. Or whether the rifleman were just a ploy to deter the colonists from rebelling against a portentous force.

As the assassin turned into the next street, he was greeted by the intense light of what appeared to be shop potentially ablaze. A women spotted Connor walking slowly towards the blaze almost transfixed and run up to him as fast as she could.

'Please Sir!' the women cried desperately. 'Mr Thompson is still in their! 'Please help him!'

Without saying a word, Connor made his way around the building, looking for the safest point of entry. As he reached the rare of the shop, he pushed open the door as there were no immediate flames surrounding the outer walls.

The hooded assassin wasted no time scanning the interior for the man who was still inside. Most of the interior walls were immersed in furious flames and the heat was almost unbearable.

'Help!' said a faint voice, almost blocked out by the noise of the inferno. 'Heeeeeelp!'

Connor heard coughing and spotted a man trapped behind a counter in the far corner. Whilst keeping low, the assassin quickly approached him.

'Oh thank God!'the man cried. 'I'm trapped! I-I can't get up.'

The assassin gripped the counter and pulled as the man pushed from the opposite side. Once the counter was aside, Conner put the mans arm around the back of his own neck and helped him up to low crouch.

Connor quickly led him back towards the door at the rare of the shop, as the walls and celling continued to disintegrate around them. Frames were now toying around the rare door, as Connor used his shoulder to barge his way through it.

The cold fresh air and thick snow underfoot was a welcomed relief as the hooded assassin helped the man to move a safe distance away from the blaze. Connor sat the man down before sitting down himself to try and catch his breath, as they had both inhaled a lot of smoke.

It then occurred to the assassin that the women who had told him about the man trapped in the shop had disappeared. He made a brief scan of the area and tried to figure out where the small crowd had gone.

When the hooded assassin turned back, everything became evident. A patrol of six Redcoats standing in a tight line, all with their rifles aimed at Connor and the man he'd just saved.

'Don't move - Assassin.' said the commanding Redcoat.

Connor had little choice.