System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 127: Chapter 126: Other Side of William Penn

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---JULY 12, 1714---

Three days out from Lisbon, La Providencia sailed steadily towards southwest across the vast expanse of the Atlantic.

The winds hadn’t been particularly strong, often shifting or dying down, forcing the crew to constantly adjust the sails, but the massive galleon made decent progress nonetheless. Life aboard settled into the familiar rhythm of a long sea voyage: the creak of timbers, the shouts of the crew, the endless horizon.

Oh, and sea shanties were constantly sung.

It was now morning, the sky just began to lighten from black to a deep bruised purple, Alaric sat in Captain Oldgate’s private cabin. He’d requested the space for a private conversation, and Oldgate, likely still dreaming of the promised cigars in Havana, had readily agreed, retreating to the quarterdeck.

Alaric sipped calmly from a steaming mug of Celestial Tea. Across the sturdy table, nursing his own mug with slightly trembling hands, sat the distinguished, yet currently rather pale and disheveled, figure of William Penn.

How had the founder of Pennsylvania, a man last known to be in London dealing with political fallout, suddenly appeared aboard a galleon in the middle of the Atlantic? The answer was in a memory Alaric had absorbed the night prior, two nights after leaving Lisbon.

---Flashback---

It had been the second night after departing Lisbon... it was calm as the ship was rocking gently under a sky full of stars.

Alaric had just finished a late dinner with his family in the main dining area below deck, the conversation filled with speculation about the New World and relief at being away from England’s troubles.

Walking down the dimly lit corridor below the deck, nodding to a few Kenway staff members heading to their own berths, Alaric felt a sense of weary contentment. They were safe, they were together, and they were heading towards a new future. He reached the door to the great cabin he shared with Kassandra, his hand hovering over the knob.

But then he paused. A faint, almost imperceptible sound reached his ears... it was a muffled groan, followed by a wet retching noise, coming from a small, rarely used storage closet just down the passageway. Smiling, Alaric turned his head just as the closet door burst open.

Out stumbled William Penn, looking green about the gills, clutching his mouth. He barely made it two steps before doubling over and vomiting onto the wooden floorboards. Behind him, emerging from the closet’s shadows, was a figure identical to Alaric, right down to the crimson coat.

Clone-Alaric gave the original a smug smirk, then vanished in a silent puff of smoke.

Instantly, a flood of memories of the clone’s experiences surged into Alaric’s mind.

The clone finishing its primary task: slipping the letters under countless doors in Bristol. The sheer scale of the city, much larger than Alaric remembered from his youth, had made the task tedious but necessary. Bristol’s population had swelled from around 20,000 when his family first arrived from Swansea fifteen years ago, to well over 100,000 now, fueled in part by the very prosperity the Kenway-Penn partnership had fostered.

Then, the second, more complex mission: retrieving William Penn from London. This had taken time. The clone arrived in London to find Penn embroiled in a desperate, failing diplomatic battle.

The Quaker leader, utterly incensed by the Crown’s blatant betrayal of the agreement made with Queen Anne... an agreement Penn viewed as a sacred trust, vital not only for Bristol’s freedom but for the very integrity of his Quaker principles... had exhausted every peaceful avenue. He’d leveraged his considerable connections, pleading with influential figures like Churchill, petitioning Parliament, even attempting to appeal directly to King George’s ministers.

However... the new regime, likely influenced by pro-slavery factions and wary of Penn’s growing influence and Bristol’s ’special status’, remained unmoved. Rallies organized by Penn’s supporters were dispersed, diplomatic channels were closed, and Penn himself was facing increasing scrutiny and veiled threats. The Crown saw the Kenway-Penn deal not as a promise, but as an obstacle to be removed.

The clone had observed Penn’s mounting frustration and the closing net of Crown agents watching his movements. Waiting for the opportune moment, when Penn was relatively isolated after another fruitless meeting, the clone had approached him, explained the immediate danger, and initiated the Hiraishin teleportation without much warning, snatching Penn away just as Crown agents were likely preparing to detain him.

The memory transfer finished just as Penn straightened up weakly, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief, looking utterly bewildered and nauseous.

”A-Alaric?” Penn stammered, swaying slightly. ”W-What in God’s name just happened!? One moment I was leaving Whitehall, the next... a blinding flash... and now... urp...” He clutched his stomach again, looking ready to be sick once more.

The abrupt, disorienting nature of the Hiraishin teleportation, especially over such a long distance and for someone unaccustomed to it, had clearly taken its toll on the older man. He looked about ready to pass out.

Alaric stepped forward quickly, catching Penn by the arm before he could collapse. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

He could have easily used his abilities to instantly alleviate the Quaker’s nausea and dizziness, a simple application of medical ninjutsu or even a calming pulse of chakra.

But looking at the mess on the floor and the late hour, a different thought crossed his mind.

’He’ll be alright after some rest,’ Alaric decided internally, already feeling the pull of his comfortable bed and Kassandra’s warmth. ’Let him recover naturally. I need some sleep.’ He guided the unsteady Penn towards a nearby empty cabin.

”Easy there, William. Bit of a rough trip, I know. Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

---Flashback End---

Now, the both of them were just sipping their Celestial Teas in the relatively quiet captain’s cabin. The gentle rocking of the ship and the distant shouts of the crew were the only sounds.

Penn seemed to need the calming brew more than usual; the stress of the past weeks and the lingering effects of his unexpected journey were evident in the lines on his face.

”It’s been a while since we had a moment alone like this, William,” Alaric said quietly, breaking the silence.

Penn nodded slowly, his gaze distant, fixed on the swirling tea leaves in his mug. His mind was clearly elsewhere, replaying the recent betrayals and frustrations. Alaric didn’t push, content to simply sit with the older man, offering silent companionship.

It took some time, several long minutes passing in shared quiet, before Penn finally spoke, his voice was low and heavy with weariness. ”I have had enough of the Crown, ’Laric.”

He looked up, his eyes meeting Alaric’s, and there was a deep well of disillusionment there. ”The King...” Penn began, then trailed off, shaking his head slightly as he stared into empty space again. ”George... and his advisors... they hold no respect for agreements made in good faith. They spared my pleas not a single moment of consideration. All my life, I have strived to be loyal, to work within the bounds of law and decency for the betterment of all...”

His voice cracked slightly. ”...I do not know what to do.”

Alaric remained silent, just listening, watching.

This was a side of William Penn he hadn’t seen before. Not the determined negotiator, the principled leader, or the shrewd political operator he knew from his clone’s memories and his own experience of knowing this man for fifteen years.

This was a man pushed to his limit, vulnerable, questioning the foundations of his life’s work. In the clone’s memories, Penn had been furious, actively fighting the injustice. But here, alone with Alaric, the mask had slipped, revealing the deep hurt beneath the anger. A single tear escaped Penn’s eye, tracing a path down his weary cheek before he quickly wiped it away.

”...Tell me... ’Laric,” Penn said, his gaze still fixed on the tabletop as his voice was barely above a whisper. ”What dost thou think I should do?”

”...”

Alaric set his teacup gently back on the carved ebony table, its faint chime echoing in the quiet cabin.

The lantern light danced across Alaric’s calm, measured, but resolute features. Outside, the La Providencia creaked against the dark swell of the Atlantic; inside, only the two of them and the lingering scent of Celestial Tea.

He leaned forward, fixing Penn with a steady gaze. ”Penn, you have fought every honorable avenue the Crown would allow... petitions, speeches, every plea for justice. You know as well as I that they consider your loyalty a weakness, not a virtue.” He paused, letting the words settle. ”Now they’ve sent soldiers to destroy our dream in the guise of hunting the Shadow Raven, which is Reuben.”

He rose and crossed to the porthole, feeling the rocking wood beneath his boots. ”I will not ask you to forsake everything you believe in,” he said quietly, ”but the time for gentle words has passed. You possess the proprietary charter for Pennsylvania... more authority than any governor in London. You’ve built a haven of tolerance and peace across the ocean. It is there, in Philadelphia and Lancaster, that you can strike back where the Crown is weakest.”

Turning back, Alaric gave Penn a half-smile, one that carried both comfort and steel. ”Leave England behind, William. Return to Pennsylvania, rally the Quakers, the settlers, even the Iroquois alliances you forged. Use your authority to arm a militia... not to slaughter innocents, but to defend your province from royal coercion. I and Kassandra, Reuben, Thulani... we will stand beside you. Our blades will carve a path for your vision of freedom to stand unmolested.”

He reached out and placed a hand on Penn’s shoulder. ”You asked what you should do. Stand up, William. Not as a supplicant, but as a sovereign in your own right. Show the Crown that its betrayal only forged a fiercer flame.”

Alaric lifted his cup again. ”To Pennsylvania, then... to the next Chapter of our fight.” He drank, the amber tea warm against the chill of inevitability. Penn’s shoulders straightened, and for the first time that night, Alaric saw resolve in his friend’s eyes.

Penn sighed, a long, tired sound that seemed to carry the weight of decades. ”I’m old, ’Laric. I had plans to retire... my body isn’t what it used to be. I’m no longer young enough to explore, to think as sharply, to fight. If only I were twenty years younger.”

”...”

Alaric stayed silent for a few moments, his were eyes thoughtful. Then, setting his cup down, he leaned forward slightly. ”William... what if... what if I had the means to turn the age of your body back to its prime? Would you do it?”

Penn blinked in astonishment, a faint chuckle escaping his lips at first... but it died quickly. In the world they lived in... where Assassins and Templars fought over relics and ancient powers... the impossible wasn’t always so impossible.

The idea seemed absurd... but not entirely out of reach.

He stared into his tea, considering. ”And... my wife? Could you do it for her as well? I wouldn’t want to live a second life without her.”

Alaric nodded without hesitation. ”Yes. Your wife, and any of your children too, if you wished.”

Penn shook his head. ”I wouldn’t force that upon my children. That’s a choice they’d have to make themselves.”

Alaric leaned back, giving a small, understanding smile. ”Then perhaps... we’ll talk more about it another time. For now, I only want you to know... when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”

Penn smoked quietly, the faint crackle of the tobacco blending into the ship’s creaking. After a long moment, he lifted his cup again and nodded solemnly. ”I’ll do it.”

”...”

A complete silence fell between them.

Alaric simply nodded, acknowledging Penn’s resolution with quiet approval.

’Good...’ Alaric thought to himself with a wry glint in his eye. ’From now on, when using my powers, I’ll just blame the Isu technologies...’

”...”

”I have heard rumors... and saw some letters from Bristol,” Penn said carefully. ”They say two thousand soldiers were killed... by you. Is it true?”

Alaric, without hesitation, nodded. ”It’s true.”

Penn’s brow furrowed. ”But... why? You could’ve knocked them out, could you not? If you had the power to kill them all, surely you had the power to spare them.”

’Yeah, I could’ve... but nah,’ Alaric gave a wry smile, setting his cup down again. ”That’s not how fighting works, Penn. Knocking someone out... properly, in the middle of battle... is far harder than killing.”

Penn hesitated, his principles battling with the grim necessities before him. ”Still...”

Alaric’s gaze hardened slightly. ”They were never going to change their minds. They were loyal to the Crown to the bitter end. They wouldn’t have questioned their orders, no matter the injustice.”

Penn exhaled heavily and eventually accepted it with a resigned sigh, taking a long sip of tea before lighting a cigarette. The thin line of smoke curled into the lantern light.

After a moment, Penn chuckled weakly. ”So... Kassandra, aye? About time you fancied a lass... Tell me about her.”

Alaric leaned back, a rare softness creeping into his voice. ”Kassandra... she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Strong, fierce, stubborn beyond reason. Yet she has a heart that burns just as fiercely. She’s...”

”...Oh? That’s a fine lass right there...”

”...Of course I’d find...

”...Hahaha...”

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