The Traitor's Stain (wattys 2019)

Chapter Nineteen: New York, New York

"Sir, you have a visitor."

Major John Andre of the Royal Army didn't move, though: he was deep in thought. If one were to look at the chessboard, they might say that he was losing: the soldier currently playing him had more pieces on the board than him, by far. But, people, just like tha soldier, also wouldn't have seen that John was actually winning. At least, he was in a prime position to win.

One move to win.

"You've played an excellent game, corporal; truly," John said. He moved his knight and knocked over the corporal's king. Checkmate. "Just... not good enough."

The corporal stared. "I... sir, your reputation is well-deserved. Truly."

"Feel free to come back and have a re-match, sometime," John said as he stood up from the table. The corporal followed suit, and the two shook hands. "For now, however, I have other engagements to attend to."

"Of course," the corporal said with a nod. "Thank you for indulging me, sir: it was a pleasure."

"The pleasure was all mine."

The corporal showed himself out.

John began to set up the chessboard, again. "Now, who is my visitor?"

The attendant shifted between his feet. "It was an Indian named Otetiani, sir. He said that you knew him."

John paused. He did, indeed, know Otetiani. Frankly, he wasn't certain he wanted to know him. The man was insane, for lack of a better word. He was the kind of person who believed that the ends always justified the means. It was the scariest type of man; he didn't want to be in league with him, but he couldn't afford to be against him, either.

"I know him," John said. "Send him in."

The attendant saluted. "Yes sir."

He left to get Otetiani.

John sighed, sitting down at his chessboard and twirling the king. He hadn't seen that Seneca boy in... quite awhile. Not since he decided to "handle things himself" as he put it. John had been curious as to what that had meant since Otetiani stormed out that day. Frankly, though, he wasn't certain he wanted to know.

Something tells me you're about to find out, anyway, John thought to himself.

A few minutes later, the attendant came back, trailed by Otetiani. "Sir, Otetiani."

John looked up at him. Otetiani looked older, stronger than he'd been three years ago, when he'd last seen him. His skin remained tan and deep, his hair long and blacker than sin, but he no longer had so much as an ounce of baby fat, and those mud-brown eyes told John that Otetiani was no longer a boy. He was a man, a man who had seen more in his lifetime than people twice his age.

He stood up and forced a smile onto his face. "Otetiani! It's been a long time."

"Three years," Otetiani gruffed.

"Three years," John echoed. "Tell me: what brings you back here after all this time?"

"You need my help."

John frowned, putting his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry; I don't follow."

"I saw what happened in the Sound the other night," Otetiani said.

John sighed, walking to his window and looking out over the bustling port of New York. "Ah, yes: the HMS Harbinger. A rather unfortunate accident, if I do say so, myself."

"An accident?" Otetiani snorted. "I know what accidents look like, John, and that wasn't one."

John hesitated before turning to look at him. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Somebody blew up your ship," Otetiani said. "Would you like to find out who?"

John couldn't hide his shock. "Are you... suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"I don't love the idea, but I don't see many options, here," Otetiani said. "Your people don't seem to be capable of doing their jobs, so I'm going to step in and help. I'll go to Long Island and figure out what's going on."

"Where do you plan on staying?" John asked. "I'll have you quartered wherever you see fit."

"What town is closest to where the Harbinger was anchored?" Otetiani asked.

John paused. "That would be... Setauket." He turned to look at Otetiani. "You will, of course, exercise full discretion during your investigation, won't you?"

"When have I not?"

***

Otetiani walked through New York, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized coat. The crowds were in full force, of course, with red coats and patriots and slaves alike walking from point A to point B. They all gave him a wide berth, some daring to sneak nervous glances at him. The people there were afraid of him, watching him as if he might grab the nearest person and try to scalp them with some heathen war cry. He was, of course, used to it: people had been looking at him like that from the moment a European set eyes on him, and he knew full well that people would continue looking at him like that until the day he died.

Setauket, Otetiani kept thinking to himself. Setauket.

He didn't know why, but he had a very good feeling about Setauket.

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Hello, one and all, and happy Wednesday! You guys have made it halfway through the week; congratulations :P

First, a bit of housekeeping. The giveaway on goodreads for "The Assassin's Blade" is over, but there's still a way for you to get an ARC. I'm looking for a few of my lucky readers here on wattpad to get ARCs for FREE in exchange for a review on goodreads, amazon, or any other site you might be on for (published) books. Comment on here or message me if you're interested. I'm only giving out a couple, so if you'd like an ARC, make sure you let me know!

Now, on to the dedication. This one's going to a very awesome reader, andi_the_cool_nerd! They've been on a really pretty impressive reading binge, then sent me a really sweet PM after getting through "The Devil of Whitechapel" and "The Last Romanov" in one week. Thanks for reading, mate :D

As always, be sure to vote and comment, and we'll see you next week with another exciting update of "The Traitor's Stain" :D