The Eagle and The Rat [Arno Victor Dorain]

XV - Oká:ra'

It felt better to be sitting down in an actual seat, though Synnøve could not repair the pit that hung in her stomach since the moment she was caught in the barrel by Master Connor Kenway.

Kenway was his last name, as she had learned when someone called him it as he practically dragged her by the back of her collar up to the Captain's quarters. Grandson to the Captain Edward Kenway- a legacy Assassin, he was. She wanted to be that too. Bring honor to her father, make the name Bellec mean something to people.

"So," Connor said, standing in front of the young girl. She was sure he was the tallest man she'd ever seen, even taller than the aristocracy ladies and their big wigs. "Your lead?"

Synnøve nodded quickly, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket and clumsily, flattening it out with her gloved hands, and handing it to him. She nearly slipped, about to tell him from whom she got it from- Master Quemar, but she bit her tongue and remembered that as of the second, she had that note in her hand, she was by all standards of the Creed, a traitor.

Connor looked over the parchment, the weird spiky star-looking object colored in black ink and its tips in starchy white ash. Alongside it, a drawing of a manuscript and a box, in the corner a list: 'Haiti, Portugal, North-Atlantic', and underneath the hellish star shape, the words 'If seen, LEAVE IT ALONE. RUN THE OTHER WAY.' among other things.

"... His name was Charles," Synnøve whispered, playing with the buckles of her bracer, "but I called him by his title, Master Dorian-" Dorian. There was another name he knew, the French Assassin he had maintained a few letters of contact with, someone who was after the box on this little piece of paper. "-Shay killed him for that box... Do you know what the paper means?"

"No, but I knew someone who did."

"Where is he?" she asked eagerly, already ready to fly out of her seat and swim herself to that location.

"In the next life," was his disappointing answer. Achilles had only mentioned the contents on this page with fleeting words, never divulging more than what was enough to clearly understand what it was he was speaking of. His journal was very similar, entire paragraphs etched over to hide some secret, the name Shay left surrounded by mountains of scribbles. "Your paper is useless."

"It is not," she stated, "You are not looking at it correctly."

"It's a single page of nonsense from a Templar notebook."

"It is not," she corrected, "Shay is not a Templar. He is an Assassin."

Connor gave her a pointed look, wondering how she could possibly call that traitor an Assassin so easily even after killing one of her teachers, but if she was anything like him, he knew she would not say obscene things without a reason, so he looked again. Using his eagle vision, he peered back down at the paper, and as she had said, he was not looking at it correctly.

Invisible ink, a dear friend of the Assassins. Some of it had smudged beyond reading, but the address was clear. 'Percé, Port La Joye ', across the ocean in the North Atlantic, an obvious Templar City. When he had taken down the Order in the colonies, that was where they had fled, Canada. It was a good place to start the search.

After he dropped off this stray back in France. "We'll turn this ship around," he said simply, pocketing the paper for later, "I'll take you back to... Where are you from?"

"No," she protested immediately, shaking her head with ferocity as she gazed at the pocket where her lead was in, "I will come with you."

He should have known that'd be the reaction, so insolent. Maybe Achillies had sent her from the next life as karmic retribution for being a stubborn student. "Even if I wanted to take you, I'm sure your guardians are wondering where you are, and I don't want any trouble with the French Brotherhood."