System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 112: Chapter 111: Time Dilation

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---Previously---

He chewed thoughtfully on his barbecue. ”Huh. England, you say? Interesting.” He shrugged. ”Well, if it’s not there anymore, then I don’t need to go to Masyaf after all.” He took another bite. ”Guess I can just head to Persia sooner rather than later. Visit my friend Solomon, see what’s there. Still got about... a year and a half before 1715 starts, plenty of time.”

Kassandra suddenly stiffened beside him, her eyes widening as she looked at him sharply. She scratched the back of her neck, looking slightly awkward. ”Alaric...”

He noticed her reaction. ”Hm? What is it?”

Kassandra hesitated, then replied slowly, ”Actually... about the year... you’ve been here for a year and a half now. Not six months.”

---

Alaric stopped chewing, raising his eyebrows again. ”A year and a half? What are you talking about, Kassandra? I arrived six months ago. It’s... July 1713, right?”

Kassandra’s eyes widened now, realizing his confusion. ”Ah... malaka. I haven’t told you...”

Alaric felt a strange sense of unease creep up on him. He had a bad feeling about this. ”Told me what...?”

”Umm... maybe it is better if Aletheia explains?” Kassandra sighed, looking uncomfortable. She held out her hand, and the Staff of Hermes materialized instantly, pulsing with golden light. ”Touch the spear...?”

Alaric looked from Kassandra’s worried face to the glowing Isu artifact. He slowly reached out and grasped the Staff just above her hand.

Aletheia’s hologram shimmered into existence beside them, her expression as impassive as ever, though perhaps with a hint of something Alaric couldn’t quite read... pity?

”Alaric Jonathan Kenway,” the Isu construct began, her voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. ”The cavern you inhabit, this sanctuary, is not merely a secluded space; it operates under unique principles. It is a domain where time behaves... differently.”

Alaric kept his hand on the staff, listening intently, his unease growing.

”This phenomenon,” Aletheia continued, ”is akin to what your later sciences might term ’time dilation’... a concept rooted in the manipulation of localized space-time fields, though not precisely analogous to gravitational effects in this instance. Within this specific Isu structure, designed for simulations and long-term preservation, the internal temporal flow is desynchronized from the external continuum.”

She paused, letting the complex terms hang in the air. ”In simpler terms, the cavern’s unique properties cause time to pass more slowly within its confines relative to the outside world. While you experience time progressing at its usual, subjective pace within these walls, the passage of time outside this localized field has been significantly accelerated relative to your frame of reference.”

”To be precise,” Aletheia stated, confirming his dawning horror, ”during the period you perceive as six months spent within this cavern, approximately one and a half standard years have elapsed in the external world. Your perception is accurate within this space, but the external timeline has moved onward at a faster rate.”

She concluded, ”This is not an illusion, Alaric Kenway, but a tangible effect of the engineered temporal dynamics of this facility. Your perception of elapsed time is accurate for you, here, but it has diverged considerably from the world you left behind.”

Alaric snatched his hand away from the Staff as if burned. Aletheia’s hologram flickered and vanished. He stared blankly ahead, the implications crashing down on him.

A year and a half. Not six months.

He hadn’t just spent half a year training and... enjoying himself with Kassandra. He’d lost an entire extra year outside. His family, Reuben, the business, the political situation in England... everything had moved on without him for eighteen months.

”Bruh...” he muttered, the single word heavy with shock and sudden urgency. ”I... I need to go back. Back to Bristol...”

’This explains why my hair has grown so fast...’

Kassandra watched him, her expression filled with sympathy and perhaps a touch of guilt for not explaining sooner. ”Alaric...” she started softly. ”Can... can I come with you?”

He turned his head sharply, looking at her as if seeing her properly for the first time since the revelation. The thought of leaving her here, after everything... it was unthinkable now. ”Of course, you’re coming with me. No question.”

A radiant smile broke across Kassandra’s face, chasing away the worry. ”Hehe...” she chuckled, a genuine sound of excitement. ”Good. I am excited to see your mamá and patér. It has been... a very long time since I saw the world outside Greece.”

Alaric managed a weak smile back, though his mind was still reeling. ”Excited?”

”Why? My parents... they’re practically children compared to you.”

Before he could react, Kassandra delivered a surprisingly fast and precise punch to his ribs. It wasn’t hard enough to truly hurt him, thanks to his durability, but it was sharp enough to make him grunt in surprise.

”Are you saying I am old, Kenway?” she demanded, though there was a playful glint in her eyes now, the earlier tension broken.

Alaric rubbed his side, managing a wry smile. ”Ah? No... no, that’s definitely not what I meant.”

Kassandra scoffed, crossing her arms. ”Good.” Then her expression softened slightly, becoming almost shy. ”Besides... I am still a woman. I get nervous when thinking about meeting the parents of... someone important.”

Alaric looked at her, truly looked at her... the ancient warrior, the immortal Keeper, nervous about meeting his family. He smiled again, a genuine, warm smile this time, reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from her face. He scratched the back of his own head awkwardly.

’Women...’

—-In the Carribean—-

The sticky heat of Nassau pressed down even in the shade of the busy tavern’s porch. Edward Kenway was holding a cup of lukewarm ale, watching the chaos of the pirate haven unfold before him.

Across the rough wooden table sat Edward Thatch, the formidable pirate already cultivating the fearsome beard and reputation that would soon make him infamous as Blackbeard.

Thatch took a long pull from his own tankard, eyeing Kenway with a mixture of camaraderie and disapproval.

”Bramah,” Thatch grumbled, slamming his tankard down. ”Abel Bramah and the Jacobite. Gods, Kenway, you’ve got the fire in yer belly, the skill with a blade... why waste it on a pissant brig captained by a man whose boldest move is smuggling rum past a sleeping Spaniard?”

Edward grinned, unfazed by Thatch’s characteristic bluntness. ”Come now, Thatch. A ship’s a ship, and work’s work. Bramah offered a berth, a share. It’s a start.”

”A start towards mediocrity!” Thatch retorted, leaning forward, his dark eyes intense. ”That brig, the Jacobite... she’s barely fit for coastal trade, let alone proper pirating. And his crew? A gaggle of snot-nosed farmhands who likely get seasick in a calm harbor! I saw ’em try to dock yesterday... nearly took out Hornigold’s sloop!”

”Your talents, lad, are wasted on such a pathetic outfit. You should be sailing with Hornigold, or Jennings... or,” Thatch added with a meaningful look, ”perhaps under a blacker flag soon enough.”

Edward chuckled, swirling his ale. He knew Thatch meant well, in his own intimidating way. The older pirate saw potential in him, the same potential Edward felt burning within himself... the desire for gold, glory, a life less ordinary. But opportunities in Nassau weren’t exactly falling into his lap.

”Bramah’s venture seems simple enough for now,” Edward replied easily. ”A quick run, easy coin. Gets my name out there a bit. Besides,” he added with a wry smile, ”even newbies need someone to show ’em the ropes, eh? I’ll get by, Thatch. Make my own luck, as always.”

Thatch stared at him for a long moment, then let out a loud grunt, seemingly accepting Edward’s stubborn optimism, though his disapproval remained clear.

”Hmph. Just... watch yer back with Bramah. Heard whispers he’s not as straightforward as he seems.” He drained his tankard. ”Be careful, Kenway.”

Edward raised his own tankard in salute, a confident glint in his eye. ”You as well, Thatch. Stay out of the Royal Navy’s sights.”

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