System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 202: Chapter 201: Time Skip

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Two years.

In the grand, sweeping timeline of history, it was but the blink of an eye. Two years was not enough time to build an empire, to change the hearts of men, to redraw the maps of the world.

And yet, it had been.

It was now September of 1717, and the world was a fundamentally different place. The Holy Commonwealth of Pennmere was no longer a fledgling nation born from scattered former colonies, but a continental titan of commerce and ideology that, though it had not yet swallowed North America by law, had already begun to consume it through appetite, debt, trade, and desire.

The victory over the British fleet had been the catalyst, the single, decisive blow that had shattered the old order and announced to Europe that the New World could no longer be treated as a distant possession to be taxed, exploited, and disciplined from across the ocean. But what followed was not a war of conquest. It was a masterclass in a new kind of empire-building, a silent, inexorable takeover orchestrated by the twin powers of William Penn’s idealism and Alaric Kenway’s impossible resources.

Penn, the Quaker king, had not sent armies into New France or New Spain. He had sent merchants.

He had flooded their ports with Pennmerian goods, sold at prices their own traders could not match. He had offered to buy their timber, their furs, their silver, their grain, and their tobacco, not with flimsy promises or unstable coin, but with the solid, unwavering value of the Pennmerian Dollar.

He had opened Celestial Bank branches and counting houses in New Orleans, Quebec, Havana, Veracruz, and Mexico City, offering loans and lines of credit that the Spanish and French crowns, their treasuries drained by European wars and courtly excess, could not hope to equal.

The colonists of those territories, seeing the unprecedented prosperity, the freedom, the clean streets, the full markets, and the sheer quality of life just across the border in Pennmere, had begun to demand the same.

The Viceroy of New Spain and the Governor General of New France still flew the banners of their crowns, but every month those banners meant a little less.

Their merchants borrowed from Celestial Banks. Their ports depended on Pennmerian shipping. Their farmers preferred Pennmerian buyers. Their shipwrights wanted Pennmerian contracts. Their households whispered about Celestial Salve, Celestial Tea, Pennmerian steel, Pennmerian cloth, Pennmerian schools, Pennmerian wages.

And their colonists had begun asking dangerous questions.

Why should prosperity stop at a border drawn by kings across an ocean? Why should a man in Quebec or Mexico City remain poor beneath a crown that could not feed him, when a man in Philadelphia or New York could work, eat, worship, trade, and raise his children with dignity?

Why should the silver of New Spain enrich Madrid while Pennmerian banks offered better coin, better credit, and better futures? Why should French and Spanish subjects bleed for empires that treated them as distant ledgers, when Pennmere treated even the poorest laborer as a citizen worth protecting?

The answer, of course, was treasonous.

And everyone knew it.

That was what terrified Europe most. Pennmere had not conquered New France or New Spain. It had not yet lowered their flags, occupied their forts, or replaced their governors with men loyal to Philadelphia. On maps, the old borders remained. In official correspondence, the lands were still French and Spanish. But beneath the ink of treaties and the painted pride of imperial banners, something far more dangerous had taken root.

Dependency.

The French and Spanish colonies were still foreign soil, but increasing portions of their commerce had begun relying upon Pennmerian banks, merchants, shipping, and buyers. Their merchants watched the exchange rates more closely than they watched royal decrees. Their dockmasters waited for Pennmerian ships with more eagerness than they waited for orders from Europe.

Among merchants, settlers, and colonial elites, Pennmere was increasingly discussed less as a neighboring curiosity and more as a model their own governments could no longer afford to ignore.

It left Pennmere in a strange and perilous position. By geography, the Commonwealth was still boxed in by imperial colonies that resented its rise. By trade, those same colonies were already half-captive to the very nation their crowns feared most.

Pennmere was surrounded by France and Spain.

France and Spain were surrounded by Pennmere.

The lands of the Hudson’s Bay Company to the north had been acquired through a more direct, if less subtle, form of negotiation. A single, unannounced visit from a certain crimson-coated individual to the company’s headquarters in London had been enough.

No threats were made, not explicitly. But the offer to buy out their entire charter for a sum that could make a king weep, combined with the quiet, unnerving presence of the man making the offer, had made refusal seem like a very, very poor business decision.

The consequences of this new world order were global. The transatlantic slave trade, deprived of Pennmere’s ports, blocked from Pennmerian markets, and increasingly strangled by a nation founded on the principle of universal freedom, had begun to collapse under the weight of its own ugliness.

The economies of the nations that had grown rich on human misery were thrown into confusion, then anger, then fear. The old system had not vanished overnight, but the greatest engine of profit in the New World had turned against it, and every slave trader, plantation lord, corrupt governor, and royal accountant understood what that meant.

The Celestial products, meanwhile, had become the world’s most sought-after luxury goods. The demand was insatiable, and the profits that flowed back to Kenway Keep and into the Celestial Bank were astronomical. Alaric had long since stopped counting his money. It was a meaningless, abstract number, something that existed less as wealth and more as weather, pressure, gravity. He had begun investing, his clones establishing businesses and buying influence in every major European capital, quietly weaving a web of economic power that made the Commonwealth of Pennmere not merely a colonial power, but a global one.

And the people came.

Drawn by the promise of a life free from tyranny, poverty, persecution, and the suffocating limitations of birth, they came in waves. The population of Pennmere had swollen to nearly five million souls, a vibrant, diverse tapestry of cultures and creeds, all united under a single Pennmerian banner of prosperity.

There were no empty shelves in the markets of Philadelphia or New York, no struggling farmers wondering if their harvest would sell. Ships from every corner of the world arrived daily at Pennmere’s ports, their hulls laden with exotic spices, rare silks, and wines that most Europeans would never see in their lifetimes. Pennmerian merchants, with their gilded coins and unshakable confidence, often bought entire cargos outright before they even reached the docks.

The streets of its cities were clean and orderly, lined with well-maintained buildings and bustling with craftsmen, traders, sailors, scholars, bankers, immigrants, and uniformed officers of Vanguard moving through the crowds with quiet discipline.

Children attended schools where reading and arithmetic were taught alongside navigation, trade etiquette, and foreign languages, for Pennmere knew its future rested not only on the sword, but on the sea, the ledger, the classroom, and the promise that prosperity could be made common rather than hoarded.

And perhaps most remarkable of all, there was no place for the grinding poverty that plagued the Old World. Even ordinary laborers generally earned enough to keep food on the table, secure decent housing, and provide opportunities for their children that would have been unimaginable to many families across Europe. The Pennmerian Dollar, worth more than any currency in the known world, ensured that its citizens carried not just coins, but a sense of pride in their nation’s prosperity.

This was the world Alaric Kenway had built while putting William Penn on the front. A world of domestic stability, extraordinary prosperity, and opportunity, even as the powers beyond Pennmere’s borders grew increasingly uneasy with its rise.

And because it was prosperous, because it was free, because it was becoming impossible to ignore, it had also become a threat no crown in Europe could comfortably tolerate.

The year 1716, in particular, had been a year of joyous celebration within the walls of Kenway Keep, a series of events that solidified the bonds of the family at the heart of the new empire.

It began with the wedding of Alaric and Kassandra. It was not merely a wedding; it was a global event.

Alaric, in a rare display of his truly bottomless wealth, spent two hundred thousand Pennmerian Dollars, a sum equivalent to one million British Pounds, an amount that could fund a small war, on the celebration.

Kings and Queens from across Europe, who had once scoffed at the colonial upstarts, sent envoys bearing lavish gifts, their attendance a tacit acknowledgment of Pennmere’s new status. The wedding was a week-long festival of music, feasting, and joy.

Kassandra, radiant in a gown of impossible beauty, officially took the Kenway surname, a name that now held more weight than many royal titles.

Following their lead, Reuben and Flavia were married. They had wanted a small, humble ceremony, but Alaric would have none of it. He financed a wedding that, while not as globally significant as his own, was a grand affair that would have made the Doge of Venice envious. In a gesture of profound love and respect for his wife’s heritage, Reuben took on her family name, becoming Reuben Auditore. Their union was blessed with a daughter, a beautiful baby girl with her mother’s dark hair and her father’s mischievous eyes, whom they named Flavien.

Not to be outdone, Thulani and Aveline’s wedding was a vibrant, week-long celebration that brought together the entire African community of Pennmere. Alaric funded the festivities, a joyous explosion of music, dance, and feasting that honored their shared heritage. Thulani, in a similar act of devotion, adopted his wife’s surname, becoming Thulani Scott. Their love brought forth twins, a boy and a girl, their names a perfect fusion of their parents: Thavian and Avelina Scott.

Edward Kenway had returned in the spring of 1716. He had been gone for a year, a year spent dismantling Governor Torres’s Templar network in the Caribbean. He had returned a changed man, his reckless bravado replaced by a quiet, deadly competence. He had also returned an incredibly wealthy man, having systematically located and seized every last piece of the governor’s hidden fortune.

Upon his return, Alaric had formally rewarded his captains for their victories in the war, gifting Thulani two hundred thousand pounds and Reuben three hundred thousand. For Edward, he had simply opened a new account at the Celestial Bank and deposited one hundred thousand Pennmerian Dollars, a welcome home gift that solidified his own financial independence.

With the three young couples now married and with growing families, Alaric had offered to build each of them their own grand estates on the vast lands surrounding the Keep. To his surprise, they had all, unanimously, declined.

Their reasoning was simple. Why would they leave paradise? Kenway Keep was more than a home; it was a self-sustaining world of impossible luxury and absolute security. Their private wings were not mere suites of rooms; they were self-contained manors within the larger mansion. To reach Edward and Caroline’s master bedroom, for example, one had to first pass through a spacious private living room, a library, and an entertainment chamber. Privacy was not an issue; it was an architectural feature.

And then there were the amenities. The endless supply of delicious food, the massive underground vault with its personalized, secure chambers for their individual fortunes, the grand, heated swimming pool that was the marvel of the New World; they had everything they could ever want, all under one roof.

Alaric, who had only wanted them to feel independent, had been secretly pleased. He had not minded their refusal in the slightest. In fact, it was what he had hoped for. He looked at his growing family, at the new generation of Kenways, Auditores, and Scotts, and felt a profound sense of peace. His children, and their children, would never grow up lonely. They would be surrounded by family, by love, by a strength that no empire could ever hope to break.

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Within Kenway Keep, it was peaceful. Alaric stood on the grand balcony of his and Kassandra’s private wing, the late afternoon sun casting a warm, golden glow over the estate. He looked down, a fond smile on his face. The backyard was a sprawling expanse of manicured lawns and gardens, alive with the sound of children’s laughter.

At the center of it all, Jonathan Hugh, the composed butler, was a whirlwind of gentle chaos. He was surrounded by the next generation: four-year-old Jennifer Scott-Kenway, already showing her father’s adventurous spirit as she tried to climb a small ornamental tree; two-year-old Charles Hunter Kenway, sitting on the grass as he watched a butterfly with an unnervingly intelligent focus; and the younger babies, Flavien, Thavian, and Avelina, all cooing and gurgling in a large, comfortable playpen.

”Agápi mou?”

Alaric smiled but did not turn, his gaze still fixed on the heartwarming scene below. Kassandra came to stand beside him, her own smile soft and full of love as she watched Jonathan expertly juggle a dropped rattle and a request for a piggyback ride from Jennifer.

”Awwww... they look so cute,” Kassandra murmured, leaning her head against Alaric’s shoulder. ”Poor Jonathan. He still has so much to do today.”

Alaric chuckled, a deep, contented sound. He let out a long, slow sigh, his smile remaining.

Kassandra saw the flicker of something else in his eyes, a distant, thoughtful look. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. ”Remember,” she said softly, ”there might be a reason for you to go there. Just give it a try.”

”...Yeah,” he nodded, his voice a low murmur. ”Go there. Teleport back here immediately.”

”Yes,” she affirmed, squeezing his hand. ”If there’s anything wrong, or if you find people there more powerful than you, forget Hunter and me ever visiting. Just come back here. Immediately.”

”Yeah,” Alaric said, smiling as he turned toward her, his hands coming up to cup her face while his electric blue eyes searched the warm hazel-green of hers. A universe of unspoken emotion passed between them before he leaned down and kissed her forehead, the touch soft and reverent. ”Wish me luck.”

”You don’t need luck, agápi mou.”

He grinned at that, a flash of his old, confident smirk. Then he closed his eyes for a second, accessing the System, the familiar blue interface appearing in his mind’s eye. He found what he was looking for, the one purchase he had been contemplating for months, the key to the door he had been hesitant to open.

[Toad Summoning - Grants the ability to have automatic contract with Toad Summons. (Will only be added to the skill, not replaced. User will be transported to Mt. Myōboku) - $15.63]

[Total Deduction: - $15.63]

[Remaining Balance: $784,589,609.69](Equivalent to £3,138,358,501 5s. 7d.)

He confirmed the purchase. A strange, warm energy pulsed through him, a new connection forged, a path to another world now open. He opened his eyes, looking back at Kassandra. He leaned in and kissed her, a deep, passionate kiss that spoke of love, of promises, of a reluctant farewell.

As they broke apart, Kassandra felt the familiar, hard press of his wood against her stomach. A blush rose on her cheeks, but a wicked, knowing smirk touched her lips.

”Before you go,” she whispered, her voice a husky purr as she pulled him towards the bedroom door, ”let’s fuck.”

.

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