System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 123: Chapter 122: Ignite a Firestorm

[Current Balance: £367,019,740 5s. 7d.]

---Bristol Harbor---

The massive galleon La Providencia sat ready as its sails were partially furled. The crew were busy with making final preparations under the dim glow of dockside lanterns.

Captain Oldgate stood on the quarterdeck, arms folded across his chest, impatiently scanning the pathway leading from the city. He puffed on a cigarette, the smoke curling into the evening’s damp air.

’Where the bloody hell are those lads?’ he thought, tapping his foot. ’Whole damn army marchin’ on the city, and young Alaric decides to go out for a... what was it? A ”demonstration”? Bah.’

The sound of footsteps on the gangway made him turn. It was Jonathan Hugh, the Kenway’s ever-composed butler, ascended to the quarterdeck, dusting off his impeccable coat.

”Say,” Jonathan remarked, taking in the sheer size of the vessel around them, ”you’ve certainly got one huge ship here, Captain.”

Oldgate turned, giving the former Assassin a measured look before sighing. He fished another cigarette from his pocket, lit it with a flint lighter, and took a long drag.

”She’s big, alright,” Oldgate grunted. ”Big enough to haul this lot across the pond. You finished with your end of things?”

Jonathan nodded smoothly. ”Indeed. Tending to the masters and madams took precedence after organizing the household staff and ensuring those who wished to accompany us were ready. A hectic evening, but all is now settled.”

Oldgate eyed him through the smoke... there was a shrewd glint in his eyes and he didn’t even hide it. ”You look like a man with a past, Hugh. Somethin’ more than just polishin’ silver. What’s a trained killer like you doin’ playin’ butler for the Kenways and followin’ that brat ’Laric around?”

Jonathan met the captain’s gaze evenly, as a faint, wry smile touching his lips. ”A fair question, Captain. Let’s just say my path crossed with Master Alaric’s under... less than amicable circumstances initially.” He paused, looking out towards the dark city.

”It was about two years ago, late 1712. I was still... active. My superiors believed young Alaric, with his sudden wealth and close ties to William Penn, might be a rising Templar influence. My assignment was clear.”

Oldgate raised a thick eyebrow. ”Assassinate the boy?”

”Precisely,” Jonathan confirmed. ”I tracked him, observed him. He was... different, even then. Powerful, yes, but not in the way I expected. When I finally made my move...” He shook his head slightly, a shadow crossing his features. ”He disarmed me with contemptuous ease, I don’t know how. Didn’t even seem surprised. He knew who I was, what I was.”

”And he let you live?” Oldgate asked, genuinely surprised.

”He did,” Jonathan said quietly. ”He saw... potential, I suppose. Or perhaps just amusement. He offered me a choice: continue down my path, likely ending in failure against him or his associates, or serve his family, put my skills to a different use. He spoke of building something, protecting people... It was a compelling argument, especially after witnessing his capabilities firsthand.” He sighed softly. ”I often think about what might have happened had he been less... forgiving. I am thankful every day for the mercy he showed.”

Oldgate took another drag, considering the butler’s words. He let out a short, gruff chuckle. ”Mercy? Lad, if Alaric hadn’t spared ya, you’d be six feet under pushin’ up daisies, simple as that. No question ’bout it.”

Jonathan chuckled too, a dry, humourless sound. ”I suspect you are absolutely correct, Captain.”

Their shared moment of grim amusement was interrupted as movement near the dock entrance caught their eye. Two figures emerged from the shadows, walking briskly towards the gangway. It was Alaric, his crimson coat draped over his shoulders, and Kassandra, clinging tightly to his arm, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

Following them, were Reuben, Flavia, and Thulani. They kept on staring at Alaric’s back, but Oldgate paid them no mind.

Oldgate grunted, flicking his cigarette butt overboard. ”About damn time.”

Alaric then turned his head towards Oldgate and grinned. He opened the system interface and navigated the familiar menu of [Buy][Sell]. He pressed [Buy] before selecting what he wanted to purchase.

[Premium Cigars (Pack) - 1s. 3d.] [Quantity: 2]

[Total Deduction: - 2s. 6d.]

[Current Balance: £367,019,740 3s. 1d.]

Two sleek, black packs of cigars materialized subtly within the inner pocket of his coat. He withdrew one and tossed it expertly up towards the quarterdeck. ”Sorry for the wait, Whitebeard!” he shouted up.

Oldgate snatched the pack out of the air with ease, inspecting the familiar design. He grunted, tucking it away. ”You’re good with peace offerings, I’ll give ya that.”

Alaric chuckled. ”Yeah, yeah! Let’s talk in your quarters with the fam after you’re finished here!”

Oldgate nodded curtly. Alaric, with Kassandra still attached to his arm, gave a final wave and disappeared down the main hatch, heading towards the spacious great cabin he always occupied when aboard La Providencia.

As soon as they were gone, Oldgate turned back to his crew, his voice booming across the deck.

”Alright, you lazy bilge rats! Stop gawkin’ and get this tub movin’! Hoist the topsails! Weigh anchor! Set course southwest by south! We’ve got fair winds and a long voyage ahead to Portugal! Move yer arses!” The crew scrambled into action, ropes groaning and canvas unfurling against the black sky.

---At the same time---

While the Kenways and their allies prepared to flee England, a lone figure moved silently through the darkened streets of Bristol.

Clad in simple, unobtrusive clothing, the man moved with unnatural speed and efficiency, pausing briefly at each door to slide a folded piece of paper underneath. This was Alaric’s shadow clone, tasked with a crucial mission: disseminating a carefully crafted message to every household in the city. A message designed to ignite a firestorm.

The letter read:

’To the People of Bristol,

I write this to you now, not as a conqueror or tyrant, but as one who stands with you in the fight for justice and truth. For it was I, alongside the honorable William Penn, who once worked tirelessly to secure the freedom of this city, a city that now thrives in peace, unburdened by the horrors of the past.

In the year 1712, William Penn and I forged an agreement with Queen Anne Stuart, an agreement that promised to abolish the slave trade and relieve the suffering of our people. We agreed that Bristol would no longer live under the shadow of slavery, that its people would no longer be shackled by the burdens of an immoral system. To see that this promise was fulfilled, we gifted the Crown 40,000 Celestial Salves, a gift valued far beyond mere currency, but one meant to protect and heal the people of this land. The Salves, which many across the globe now know, were brought to you through our joint efforts, and the Crown has benefited greatly from this gift.

But it did not end there. As part of our agreement, Penn and I also pledged to pay Bristol’s annual tax, which amounted to hundreds of thousands of pounds, after four years and onwards until the last line of our descendants, so that this city could prosper and be free of the Crown’s oppressive grasp. We took these actions not for ourselves, but for you, the people of Bristol. Our goal was always the same: to ensure that Bristol would no longer be a city of suffering, but one of freedom and prosperity.

Yet, now that we have fulfilled every aspect of our agreement, the Crown has turned its back on us. It is with great sorrow that I report that the King, upon assuming the throne, has broken the agreement. The promises we made to you, the sacrifices we made to free you from the chains of the past, have been betrayed. The Crown has shown its true face: one of greed, dishonor, and manipulation.

In June 29 of this year, 2,000 soldiers arrived in Bristol, not to protect you or to uphold the law, but to tear down what Penn and I built together. They came to destroy our city, to undermine its freedom, and to remove the Kenway family from the city that we had worked so hard to see prosper. I fought them, not as a soldier for conquest, but as a defender of the people. I killed 2,000 of them to keep this city free, leaving only one alive to take word to the King and tell him that Bristol is not his to conquer.

The Crown promised to uphold its end of the deal. The Crown promised to protect this city. But the truth is that the Crown only wanted control. The King now wants to rip away your prosperity, your freedoms, and your safety. He does not care about you. He does not care about your right to live without the fear of slavery or the freedom of your marketplace.

I have fought for you, and for that, I must now leave. The danger that the Crown poses to us all is too great. The city of Bristol is no longer safe, and the Kenway family has had no choice but to leave. We will no longer stand in the way of an ungrateful monarchy. I will not return to a city under the threat of tyranny.

But mark this, my friends: the Kenway family will rise again. Though we leave, we will not be forgotten. The people of Bristol will know the truth, that the Crown betrayed them. And when the time is right, when the people of this city rise up to reclaim their freedom, the Crown will fall.

Let this be known to all who read this letter: The Kenway family will never bow to a tyrant, and the Crown will never again take control of this city. The day will come when Bristol will rise once more, and the tyranny of the Crown will be no more.

-Alaric Jonathan Kenway, Defender of Bristol, Protector of the People’

The letter was a potent mix of truth and calculated deception.

It was true that the Kenway family, through their partnership with Penn and the influx of wealth and resources, had significantly contributed to Bristol’s recent prosperity. Food prices had indeed dropped, crime had lessened, and a general sense of well-being had settled over the city, largely thanks to their efforts to establish a slave-free economy and pay the city’s taxes.

The lie, however, was in the framing of the Crown’s motives. While the letter portrayed the raid as a direct attack on the Kenways and Bristol’s freedom due to broken promises, Alaric understood the deeper, more insidious truth hinted at in Penn’s cryptic message. The Crown wasn’t just targeting Reuben; they were moving to crush the entire anti-slavery movement Penn and Alaric had fostered.

The hunt for the Il Corvo d’Ombra was just a facade to their hidden motive.

”Rivers swell and currents shift with hidden purpose.” – Political tides were turning against the anti-slavery faction under the new King.

”In quiet darkness two thousand shadows stir.” – These weren’t just soldiers, but likely included enforcers, slave catchers, and agents loyal to pro-slavery interests, preparing a broader crackdown.

”Silent blades await the gilded dawn’s false promise.” – The promise of a slave-free Bristol was a deception; the Crown intended betrayal from the start.

”Tides will rise to seal each fleeing path.” – A coordinated effort to silence dissent and prevent escape.

”Ravens circle, heralds of unwelcome wings.” – The Crown’s agents were spreading, bringing oppression, not peace.

”In whispered corridors their footsteps echo.” – The plan was hatched in secret, aiming to dismantle everything Penn and Alaric built.

”Take wing before the hunter’s net is cast.” – The betrayal was imminent; flee or be caught in the purge.

Alaric knew Penn’s warning wasn’t just about a military raid on the Estate; it was about the imminent, violent suppression of Bristol’s burgeoning freedom. His letter, therefore, was designed to preemptively strike back, turning the Crown’s own plot against them by painting them as the betrayers of a popular agreement, igniting public outrage and potentially destabilizing the King’s authority in the region.

Clone Alaric finished sliding the last letter under a door on the outskirts of the city. He dusted off his simple clothes, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

”Job done,” he muttered. ”Now... time for phase two. Need to get to London and extract William Penn and whoever he’s sheltering before the Crown’s ’shadows’ close in on him too.”

He glanced back towards the city, then towards the distant road leading to London. Forming a single, swift hand sign, he gathered chakra. ”Jinton: Fast Travel no Jutsu!”

With a burst of speed that left only swirling dust in his wake, the clone shot off towards London.

’I fucking hate that name...’ the clone grumbled internally as he raced through the night. ’And why the hell didn’t the original leave a damn travel marker in London? Does he even use that big brain of his sometimes? Makes my job harder...’

---

Minutes later, the door to Oldgate’s spacious but now rather crowded captain’s cabin creaked open. Alaric and Kassandra entered, followed closely by the rest of the Kenway family... Bernard, Linette, Leonard, and Eleanor, along with Reuben, Flavia, Matteo, and Thulani.

Oldgate was already inside, pouring himself a generous measure of rum, grumbling under his breath about the lack of elbow room.

”Feels like I’m hostin’ a bloody town meeting in here,” the captain muttered as everyone found a place to sit or stand around the large map table dominating the center of the room.

Alaric surveyed the assembled faces, his gaze eventually landing on Thulani.

”Alright, now that we have a moment... Thulani, where’s Aveline?” he asked, his tone was casual but with an undercurrent of concern. ”And now that I think about it, where’s Caroline? And their mother, Elizabeth?”

A brief, awkward silence fell. Several people shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Alaric’s gaze. It was Thulani, his expression somber, who finally answered. ”They’re in Delaware, ’Laric. In the Province of Pennsylvania.”

While Thulani spoke, Alaric casually pulled a cigar from the pack in his pocket, lighting the tip with a tiny spark from his index finger before taking a slow drag.

Thulani continued, his voice low. ”They... chose to stay there after visiting some months back. Aveline sent word. Said she, Caroline, and Elizabeth wanted a fresh start, away from England entirely. Apparently... Elizabeth couldn’t bear living in Bristol any longer, not after...” He trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air...

Alaric absorbed this, taking another thoughtful drag from his cigar before nodding slowly. ”Delaware, huh?” He exhaled a plume of smoke. ”They didn’t fancy London? I know Pennsylvania makes sense, given William Penn founded the province, but they could’ve chosen London... or Birmingham, even Liverpool.”

”They believed a new country, a completely new beginning, was better for them,” Thulani explained simply.

Alaric nodded again, accepting their decision. A slightly awkward quiet settled over the cabin, thick with unspoken thoughts and the weight of their sudden departure.

Oldgate, sensing the mood, slammed his pewter mug down on the table with a thud, making everyone jump. ”Right then!” he declared, clapping his large hands together. He looked directly at Alaric. ”So... we’re makin’ for Pennsylvania, then? Straight shot?”

Alaric raised an eyebrow, gesturing around the room. ”Why’re you looking at me, Whitebeard?” He pointed towards his father Leonard, mother Eleanor, uncle Bernard, and aunt Linette. ”They’re the heads of the family. I go where they decide.”

”Oh?” A collective murmur of surprise went through the room, excluding Kassandra who simply watched Alaric with a knowing look. Everyone... the Kenways, the Auditores, even Thulani, looked taken aback. They’d expected Alaric, the one who had orchestrated their escape, fought an army, and possessed unfathomable power, to dictate their next move without question.

”What? Why’s everyone looking at me like that?” Alaric asked before taking another puff of his cigar. ”Come on, guys, stop tha-”

”Lead us, Alaric...”

”Huh?” Alaric turned, genuinely surprised this time, finding his father, Leonard Kenway, looking at him with a steady, supportive smile.

Bernard nodded emphatically beside his brother. ”That’s right, lad. We’ve watched you these past years... nearly two decades now. You’ve always seen things clearer, been steps ahead of everyone else.”

”Aye,” Linette added, her voice filled with conviction. ”From dealing with those dreadful situations years ago... Solomon, Helena... to forging the partnership with William Penn that brought us such prosperity and helping the common folk of Bristol along the way. You have the vision, Alaric.”

Eleanor reached out, placing a gentle hand on her son’s arm. ”Son... lead us,” she repeated softly but with undeniable strength.

Alaric stared, momentarily speechless, as he saw the unwavering trust and expectation reflected in the eyes of his family. Even Matteo Auditore spoke up, his voice carrying a surprising weight.

”Lead us, Alaric,” the Master Assassin stated, his gaze intense. ”We... the Assassins here... have spoken with Jonathan. We recognize the limitations of our traditional ways, especially in the face of challenges like... well, like you.” He gestured vaguely, acknowledging Alaric’s power. ”Your methods are unorthodox, but undeniably effective. We will follow your lead.”

”...” Alaric couldn’t quite process it. He took a long, slow drag from his cigar, the familiar ritual grounding him as he absorbed the weight of their collective decision.

Oldgate broke the silence, a grin spreading across his face. ”Well, there ya have it, lad. Looks like the captain’s chair is yours, metaphorically speakin’. So,” he took a swig of rum, ”where are we headin’?”

Alaric considered for a moment, the initial shock giving way to a sense of responsibility. He met the expectant gazes around the room. ”Alright,” he said finally, his voice steady. ”Let’s set sail for Delaware. We need to reunite with the rest of the family first.” He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. ”And... we’ll likely meet Penn on the way.”

Eyebrows shot up again. ”Penn?” Bernard asked, confused. ”He’s in London...?”

Alaric just offered a cryptic smirk. ”Don’t worry about the logistics, Uncle. Let’s just say I have a feeling our paths will converge sooner rather than later.” He turned back to Oldgate. ”Captain, how long until we reach Delaware, making best possible speed with minimal stops?”

Oldgate stroked his beard, calculating. ”Aye? Depends on the winds, lad,” he replied gruffly. ”If Neptune smiles on us, maybe a month, month and a half tops. If he’s feelin’ grumpy... could be two, maybe even three months crossin’ that pond.”

Alaric nodded, accepting the estimate. He pushed himself up from leaning against the table and walked towards the cabin door. Pausing with his hand on the latch, he turned back to face the group.

”One more thing,” he said, his expression serious. ”William Penn is likely furious about the Crown violating the agreement we made with Queen Stuart. Don’t be surprised if he decides that this betrayal, is the last straw. He has massive amounts of influence, both here and in the colonies. He might just decide to carve out something... independent.” Alaric’s eyes held a determined glint. ”Whatever he chooses, we support him. He’s a good man, fighting for a just cause in this world.”

Nods of agreement went around the room. Even Matteo seemed to accept the potential shift in allegiance.

Kassandra, unfamiliar with Penn but trusting Alaric implicitly, simply watched her lover, as a small smile played on her lips. She had her own ancient duties tied to the Staff, yes, but her path was now intertwined with Alaric’s.

If he chose to build empires or tear them down, she would be beside him. Especially if he remained immortal alongside her... the thought sent a pleasant thrill through her.

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