An Excerpt from Kenway - Requiem

Posted to pad up our post count in wake of our return, this action decreed by editorial mandate. Looking back at the old stuff also makes us all nostalgic.

-x- 

In the middle of the bustling New York City street, as horses pulled carriages through the boulevards and people clustered in crowds, the hooded Assassin pushed his way past the congregation near the church. A small cluster of other Assassins formed around him, acting as bodyguards in case trouble did rear its head. He looked at one of them and pointed at the building right ahead of them. The building appeared to be two floors tall, with a balcony on the second floor and atop the rooftop were a small dome and an American flag flying.

“Is that the building?”

“Yes. One of our scouts confirmed that Hamilton has gone in the building every day for the past week around this time. In fact…”

Connor saw a carriage pull to a halt in front of Federal Hall. The man who stepped out was illuminated as gold, and as he walked he left behind a gold trail on the ground. Following him were several figures outlined in red. The Templar, hair white (perhaps a wig) and dressed in black, entered the two front doors of the building. Some of the guards followed him, while others remained stationed outside. A frontal approach would likely blow his cover, Connor decided. He would have to find some other way inside.

“I will need the six of you to cause a distraction and keep a watch. Try not to kill anyone, however. Screams of bystanders may alert those inside.”

“Very well, Mentor.” Some of the Assassins bowed to Connor as one of them, small and nimble, ran up to the Templar guards and swiftly plucked both of their wallets. Connor heard one of the Templars swear and chase after the Assassin. Some of the Assassins followed the chase, preparing to set up a trap. Connor quietly tip-toed to the other guard, remaining behind his field of vision. A small dart, laced with a nonlethal poison, had been prepared for this occasion. Before the Templar was aware what was standing behind him, Connor had jabbed the dart into the man’s neck. The Templar’s eyes rolled back as he grew tired and the world blacked out. Motioning to the remaining Assassins, Connor tossed the body behind a stack of boxes that obscured him from the eyes of any passersby, and pointed to a nearby cart that was filled with hay. The Templar would have some very itchy eyes when he woke up, Connor thought.

Was he to go in? No, going in from the front may still be a risky move. He did not have any idea of what the enemy positions inside the building were. He would have put sentries right in front of the door, and Connor supposed that a master planner like Hamilton who had much at stake would have done so as well. Connor thought that no matter how he chose to make his approach, there would be a risk factor of being detected. Hmm… there was a large tree with branches that looked sturdy next to the adjacent building to the hall. The two buildings were wide apart, but close enough that getting to the Federal Hall would simply be a matter of taking a leap from the rooftop and landing on the side balcony.  

-x-

He had almost missed his leap, but that didn’t matter now that he had found a window inside the building.

He heard a voice.

“Meet me out on the balcony.”

“Ah, I always did wish to stand where the General himself was inaugurated.” That voice was strangely familiar, and not the Templar’s, and yet Connor could not deduce where he had heard it before.

“Washington served my plans well, although not the best I could have hoped for. Too many damn meddlers, from rival factions both political and hidden. And now, with Jefferson in office…”

The voice trailed off.

Connor moved quietly to where he had heard the voices coming from. Instantly, he took cover behind a wall. Three Templars, along with Hamilton and his conspirator, were in the hall. Two were stationed at opposite ends while the other was following Hamilton and the stranger. Perking his ears, Connor heard Hamilton tell the guard that he was no longer need as the ones out front would surely notify them to an attack from outside and that he should return to making rounds around the house. He heard the steps of the guard grow louder and louder. Inching back a bit to the side, as the guard round the corner, Connor grabbed him and placed a hand around the man’s mouth to muffle him. In a matter of minutes, the guard was choked out and asleep like his peers outside.

The two guards in the hall themselves were trying to listen in on Hamilton’s conversation. Just his luck, Connor thought. He crept up behind them, and smashed them unconscious by knocking their two heads together. Dragging the two guards down the hall and behind the corners, he returned to the balcony door. He pushed the door open silently, just a few small centimeters and positioned himself.

“Things seem to be at an impasse, don’t they, Alex darling?”

“Don’t call me that. Address me like a professional. Do you know who you’re speaking to?”

“Of course I do, Mr. Hammy. You are a wedlock bastard where he is only by shifting through a never-ending pile of remarkable chance.”

“How dare you… what are you? An uneducated man of the backwoods with nothing but a pack of cards with meaningless make-believe symbols!”

There was the sound of laughter. Laughter that froze the veins, stemmed blood flow of the artery, made even the strongest man shrivel to half his size and cower. Connor, as he heard the horrid mirth, also caught the sound of the Templar Grand Master gasping, stepping backwards. Then the laughing man spoke again.

“Uneducated, you say? Make-believe symbols? My, my. For such a smart bastard you know so little. Heh heh… you think that Mr. Aidan Campbell in front of you is the only act of the play? How little you know… you Templars, and the Assassins too, think of your importance so grandly. Where merely, you are naught but merely chesspieces who think of themselves as players. Now…” The sound of a violent scuffle and whimpering. “Tell me, are things at an impasse?”

“Only to the unassuming eye. I am totally in control. Burr and his petty complaints trouble me naught.”

“Think you are in control?  Believe me, things have spiraled beyond your control. He may be just the vice president but you ought to be more scared of Burr than you let on. Have you seen the extent of the conspiracy he plans?”

“His conspiracy has been rendered useless. President Jefferson will drop him when he runs for reelection, and I have summarily used my resources to foil his attempts for a governorship. He has no power.”

“No public power. But what about within the Order itself? I know that Aaron Burr hasn’t taken his losses lightly. He has sent you challenges, hasn’t he? And there has been a culling of allegiances throughout the ranks.”

“I will simply ignore him. I will not satisfy his trivial impulse for a duel to salvage whatever deluded notion of honor he possesses. I am the leader of this rite, and shall be until the day of my passing.” 

“Perhaps… but it isn’t the wisest of decisions to overlook any potential threats, even the smallest. Do you know how your predecessor’s rite fell? All it took was for them to underestimate one fire-headed youth… I have watched many men no different from you in virtue or character or power collapse. Through sinking longships, through Italian basilicas, the story is the same each and every time.”

“Quit with that immortality fairy tale nonsense, Mr. Campbell.  But you are right. Perhaps I should settle accounts with Mr. Burr. Not to kill him, no he may still have some purposes to serve, so I shall simply frighten him to reason. But I do worry… he is a better shot that I.”

“I can perhaps lend some assistance.”

“What is this? A worthless hunk of metal?”

“This is a special shard, endowed with forerunner properties. One of the few left in existence. Does a wonder regarding things like bullets.”

“Why are you doing this? You are not one of them, but you do not wear the cross of our Order either.”

“I live for reactions. Do not expect me to have any grand scheme, motivations for what I do. I have dabbled on both sides of the conflict, in-between, and shall continue to do so until the end arrives. Now, for this favor, I do expect one in return.”

“What is it?”                         

“As you are aware, the expedition to explore the French-purchased lands is embarking soon. Something I seek to possess rests hidden in the plains. You are familiar with the Precursors and the Apple, right?”

“More than I wish to be with that absurd gibberish.”

“Make sure that the expedition becomes a few good men short. And fill the gaps with your own. Here is a sketch. Study it well in this instant, and memorize every line and shade.”

Suddenly Connor’s curiosity was stroked. Another artifact was to be uncovered? He remembered what had been narrowly averted the last time he had come across one of them. This Templar ally sought to possess it… not if the Assassins had any say in the matter. Connor decided. Another object to attach to a weight and sink deep into the ocean.

The Templar and his associate were still talking, but Connor had heard enough, perhaps more than enough of what he wanted to hear. He made his way back to the place where he had entered the building, past several unconscious guards.

The Templar and his associate would have quite the surprise when they left the balcony.

-x-

Standing on the rooftop above the building, Connor stood at the edge and peered down. As he expected, there was frantic screaming and confused barking of orders. A stream of Templar guards were pouring out from the doors below him. Some of them were ushering Alexander Hamilton into a carriage, a defensive square forming around him. It would be useless to bother pursuing him now. He would ambush Hamilton at his duel, whenever that took place. He would set some messages to the Assassin dens around New York and New Jersey. If he recalled the news, dueling had been banned in both states but was only punished in New York. He suspected that New Jersey would be where the Templar Grand Master finally fell.

But before Hamilton…

He would return to the Yorktown, where he had met that mysterious man. It was time to get a few answers from this secretive Aidan Campbell.

-x-

What answers does he get? What is the worthless hunk of metal? What happens to Alexander Hamilton? To find out, check out Kenway - Requiem by Jack Spheniscidae and Brian Ursus.