Paris, Several weeks later, Winter 1786

It hit him all at once, like a tidal wave. Perhaps the musket ball had not been extracted as cleanly as the doctors had hoped, or maybe the exhaustion of the day's battle had weakened him.

Nevertheless, Connor felt like he was at the edge of death.

The days and nights passed by endlessly, and the Mohawk found himself losing all semblance and track of time as he lay on the cot. Hands on him and cloth being pulled over his body, was it to simply keep him warm? Or to cover him for burial? He wasn't sure, for he felt nothing but weakness and pain.

Vainly, he tried lifting his hands to take the covers off, but he could barely move them. A small hand would effectively block his movements, laying it gently by his side while another hand wiped his forehead with a cold cloth..

Suddenly, Connor felt something cold being pressed into his mouth, liquid spilled through and down his throat. It was cool, refreshing - water- but it tasted like bile, nothing like the cleansing stream or glacial waters of home, it was rancid, filled with the smell of fish, wood...and Connor coughed it up, letting it dribble off the side of his mouth.

"He's rejecting the water, this isn't good."

It was a man's voice, but whose? and who was this person talking to?

"You would too if I shoved half a bottle down your throat like that!" Another voice, a woman's shouted distinctly.

Connor groaned, every movement causing an ache in his bones, but he nonetheless willed his body so. It didn't take long before he summoned the strength to utter a phrase.

"Help me up."

"Mon dieu, he's awake!" The woman shouted.

"So he is." The man replied, and Connor opened his eyes to see the familiar, and smiling face of Arnaud. The woman who had rubbed his forehead with the cloth was another familiar face. Charlotte.

"We were afraid that we'd lost you to fever Connor." Charlotte said, excitement and relief mixed in her voice.

"It will take more than a Templar batard to knock our friend out. Isn't that right?" Arnaud grinned.

Connor propped himself up, sitting on his bed despite the protests of Charlotte.

"How long was I out?"

"A few weeks." Arnaud replied. "You were fine for a few days after the attack, but one day you just dropped flat out of the saddle on our way back to Paris. We carried you back to the city as fast as we could. Your friend Ambassador Jefferson's seemed to have no issue with us staying while you recuperated. Augustin has already been dispatched to inform Schaefer of our progress."

Connor nodded as he recalled the memory, vaguely. They had ridden straight into the countryside for days following the attack on Seurre, his bandaged shoulder still raw from having the musket ball pulled out. Obviously, it wasn't a clean wound, and he was lucky to still be alive.

"Where is Lafayette?" Connor asked, his voice still hoarse from the fever.

"He dropped some packages for you from your American friends." Arnaud replied, "Then buggered off to Versailles. Something about an assembly that was to be called soon."

That sparked a memory. The Apple! With it in the Templar's possession, they would surely use it now on the unsuspecting assembly.

"I have to stop him." He grunted.

"Rest up mon ami." Arnaud reassured his friend. "The Assembly of the Notables isn't for another few months. And in the meantime, we can plan our next course of action."

Connor nodded, lying back down on the bed, much to the relief of the gathered assassins, he quickly scanned the room, and saw his gear lying piled up on a nearby table, with one notable exception.

"Where's my Tomahawk?"

Arnaud frowned, shaking his head. "I'm sorry mon ami, we didn't have a chance to retrieve it from the battle. It's as good as lost."

That struck at the core of the Mohawk, who had come to rely on the weapon ever since he was a child. It was more than just a tool, it had sentimental value as well, and he had lost it.

Sensing his distress, Arnaud produced a package for Connor. "No need to worry though, your friends in the Americas are thoughtful enough to send you extra gear. Here, this is a package for you that arrived by your ship, the Aquila. From someone called Aveline."

"Let me see it." Connor said sternly as he took the package, it was a small rectangular box that looked like it could scarcely hold even a small knife. But Connor's eyes lit up in recognition as he laid eyes on the weapon that was sent to him.

He had a plan now. Once he recovered, he would act.

February 1787

The Compte de Vergennes watched the passing citizens idly as he stared from the window of his office at the Tuileries. Winter was ending, and the first signs of the spring thaw were evident as the first flowers began blossoming in the King's gardens, with small blades of grass poking out from under the once barren soil. Spring birds were returning, and the fleet of river boats that had stayed at dock all winter were once again sailing down the Seine.

It was a clear sunny day and Paris was as beautiful as she had ever been. Hard to imagine that such a scene was on the verge of being thrown into utter chaos, but with the revolutionaries gaining ground day by day, it seemed more and more of a possibility.

That was why the apple was so important. That was why he had been relieved when De Launay had come to him with a letter saying that it was now safely stowed into the vault, where it would be reserved for use at the proper time. The winter had been a long and anxious one, and there had been several close calls on the Apple's perilous journey to Paris. The guards regiments had found themselves embroiled in insurrections in Lyons and Seurre, which had to be put down violently. A lifetime of politics had told Vergennes that the situation was now at its most delicate, and the latest finance reports were disturbing to say the least. France was destitute, and unless the monarchy found a solution to paying its bills, the ancien regime which the Templars had spent the last several centuries carefully constructing would collapse.

So serious was the situation, that it had been a part of Vergenne's schemes to do the unthinkable: try and work out an arrangement with the assassins.

He was not as militant as some of his other brothers, he believed with the right persuasion, their members could be made to see the error of their ways. After all, had it not worked with Haytham? One of the greatest Templars of the Order? It was a shame that man was gone now. Dead at the hands of his own son, who was now dogging the Templars in France. And thanks to that fight in Seurre, it was probably safe to assume that he was firmly against them now.

The coalition he had dreamed of was in ruins, and at the moment, Vergennes could only direct his frustration at the Templar Colonel, who stood warily at attention in front of his office desk, along with the Nobleman.

"I warned you against this." Vergenne slammed his fist on the desk in frustration.

The Templar Colonel eyed the Count, who was glaring at him.

"We had no choice." The colonel replied with a sigh. "The assassins attacked us, we merely defended ourselves."

"You made an open invitation to be attacked when you threw your men into the city like common rabble." Vergennes snapped, sitting back in his chair. "I warned you, to avoid confrontation with the assassins until we were able to establish a common link for negotiation: Connor Kenway. Now, because of your little escapade, we've lost that chance!"

"He was an assassin who tried to steal the apple." The colonel shrugged. "What do you expect me to do? Let him take it?"

"We were prepared for his interference." Vergennes said harshly. "That was why De Launay was called for."

"You weren't there to make the call when Lyons and Seurre rose up in rebellion." The colonel countered. "What was I to do? Let the peasants run free to pillage the countryside? You should know Count, that the first casualty of any battle is the plan."

"Yes," Vergennes replied rather wearily. "And the plan would have been to send the regular army to deal with it, and have your guards march back to Paris." The French noble frowned. "Now, not only have we engaged in direct conflict with them, but you've also managed to destroy my work at establishing contacts within the French Brotherhood. Contacts which have now vanished and are lost to us! And even if we were to fight against them, you have failed at capturing Connor Kenway in the melee, now he is doubtless plotting against us with the French assassins."

"I've only lost him temporarily." The Colonel replied confidently, "He can't stay hidden forever. My Guards regiments and agents are on his scent."

The colonel smirked at that last remark, patting the Assassin tomahawk he carried on his belt, a souvenir from the last battle, and one which he intended to reunite with its owner as soon as possible, preferably by the blade first.

"And where is this assassin now?" Vergennes stood up impatiently, walking towards the Templar Colonel. "It's been months since your skirmish, but I've yet to hear anything more from him."

"Doubtless he is back in Paris." The Colonel replied. "Besides, we have more important business to deal with, particularly with the Assembly of the Notables the King is planning, why worry so much about one man?"

"You've stirred the beast Colonel. This 'one man' single handedly destroyed Colonial Order, as well as murdered one of our best and brightest Grand Masters." Vergennes shook his head. "And now, thanks to your efforts, he's not only aligned against us, but he will be twice as careful now and more difficult to locate."

"This, in short, was a disaster." Vergennes continued. "Your methods were militant and fanatic, and completely uncalled for."

"As a Templar commander, I should consider that a compliment." The Colonel snarled back. "It was a military decision of the moment."

"That is fine in most cases," Vergennes shrugged, "But this time, your blunt methods have antagonized those who we need to have on our side in maintaining the monarchy. You've placed our cause and the work and effort of years in jeopardy!"

"Am I relieved then?" The Colonel said sharply, taking a step back as if preparing to unsheath his sword.

"No." Vergennes replied, unconcerned with the colonel's hostility. "God knows we need every man. I expect that France will soon be at war with herself unless we can bring the situation under control. However, I expect you to follow my instructions to the tee going forward. Is that understood?"

"Absolument." The colonel saluted, his pose ramrod straight.

"Good," The count sighed. "Now, the Assembly of the Notables is about to begin soon. You are right in that aspect, we'll need to secure the cooperation of the nobles in our first step to maintaining the monarchy. Have the Apple ready for me when we arrive at Versailles, and see that the Palace is secure. Colonel, ensure that your men have the palace secure. I do not want any interruptions when we use the apple."

The Colonel nodded. "sir."

Vergennes then turned to the nobleman. "You, will gather the main members of the nobility we need to convert to our cause to the assembly. Make sure they are well within range when we deploy the apple."

"Of course," The nobleman bowed low.

"Then go, and may the Father of Understanding guide you." Vergennes said firmly, aligned against them or not, Connor could not be allowed to interfere at this delicate stage of the operation.

The Swiss Guards of the palace raised their muskets in salute as Vergennes passed, and the Count nodded briefly in acknowledgment as the escort of guards and dragoons led him down the courtyard on the way to his carriage. It was a daily routine that suddenly weighed more heavily on the Count's mind, for he had been extra careful in avoiding open public spaces and isolated roads since the skirmish with the Assassins. Their order may have been weakened for centuries, but he still had a healthy respect for an assassin's blade, particularly coming down from the rooftops above.

As he walked down the steps, the count swatted his neck in annoyance as he felt a mosquito bite his neck, but his eyes never darted away from the gathering crowds that watched his departure. Never mind that, he already took the precaution of planting several of his agents amongst the common people, along with several platoons of guards on standby. If any assassin was foolish enough to hide within the crowd, they would be found.

As the count approached his carriage, he took one last look at the Tuileries, and the splendor and opulence of the palace seemed to put him at ease. It was magnificent, a reminder of the splendor and power that the Templars had built for so many centuries, one that would stand the test of time, he reckoned, once the Assassins were properly dealt with.

He approached the coach door, and the porter bowed low as he opened it. The Count sighed, perhaps he was just being paranoid after all, the last few months had gone by without incident, just this final stretch, and it would matter not what Connor or the Assassins did, for the entire nobility of France would be under the thrall of the apple.

As the count entered the carriage, he took one last look at the crowd to see if anyone was prepared to brave the defenses, but no one stirred as the coach doors closed, and the coachman cracked the whip, sending them onward along the cobblestone streets of the city.

Vergennes breathed a sigh of relief as the carriage rattled through the city, surrounded by an escort of green coated dragoons. For the moment at least, he was safe, now, all he had to do was get to the palace, meet up with the Colonel and await the Assembly of the Notables. Once that was done, and the power of the nobles and politicians aligned with the crown, he would have the luxury of dealing with those damned Assassins.

"Count."

Vergennes eyes widened as the porter sitting across from him suddenly spoke and a chill ran up the Count's spine as he took a look at the servant who had closed the door for him, dressed in the finery of the French court, but now that he had a much clearer look under the powdered wig, he saw the familiar face at last.

In his lifetime of living as a nobleman, he hardly paid any attention to the servants in his employ, never bothering to learn their names, much less their faces. To him, they were as common place and ordinary as a piece of furniture that one saw in a room every day of their lives. He cursed himself quietly...realizing how easily he had been duped, yet at the same time, he was slightly impressed by how easily the young man had managed to slip past all his defenses.

Hiding in plain sight indeed.

After what seemed like an eternity, Vergennes sighed deeply.

"Connor...So, you've made your decision it seems." Count Vergennes eyed Connor warily.

There was what seemed like eternity of silence after the question. A bead of sweat dropped down the counts face as he gathered already from Connor's hardened gaze what he had come here for.

"I did." Connor nodded, his hidden blade was still unsheathed in his wrist, but the count tensed up, seeing Connor bring his arm back up.

"You should have taken my offer Connor...and come to me earlier. We could have made it work out, for both the Templars and Assassins." Vergennes said almost disappointingly.

"Make it work out? As you had done for all those citizens at Seurre?"

Vergennes silently cursed the colonel. "It wasn't by my order."

"By your order or not, their blood is on your hands." Connor scoffed without any sympathy. "And now you plan to use the apple on the assembly?"

The count shrugged, hiding his surprise that Connor even knew about the Apple, how was that even possible? Did the Assassins break their coded dispatches?

"The Apple was supposed to be a last resort, against the hardliners." The count said. "I was hoping to persuade the nobles to agree to the king's reform. And if they didn't agree. Some sacrifices have to be made."

"Like the dead men, women and children I saw back at the city." Connor hardened his voice.

Vergennes sighed. "Perhaps it was naive of me to think you could have been persuaded to cooperate with us. I expected more from Haytham's son."

The mere mention of the name irked Connor more than he thought. "Then you should know better about how I trust the Templars, considering my own father's example, you would have betrayed me as well."

"Knowing what I know now, you would have been right." Vergennes smiled sadly.

"So what now Connor?" Count Vergennes spread his arms wide in a dramatic gesture. "You kill me and escape? Not likely considering you are surrounded by my guards."

"I've already killed you. Before you even stepped foot into this carriage." Connor said solemnly, his eyes piercing straight into the count's very soul.

Vergennes almost wanted to laugh at the gesture. "What are you talking abou-"

He paused in mid sentence as Connor revealed the object in his hand. It was an unfamiliar weapon, more common in the bayous of Louisiana than the cold northern frontiers of the colonies, but in his brief time with Aveline, Connor became very familiar with the weapon.

A blow pipe, and a small thin poison dart.

Horror dawned on Vergenne's face as he grasped the significance of the weapon. He began rubbing his neck. That mosquito bite. It wasn't a mosquito...

The world suddenly began spinning for the count as the poison took it's effect, and Vergennes hacked and coughed as he slid back into his seat, the life slowly seeping out of him.

"What...What have you done." The Count gasped as he lay back in his chair.

"I have done what is necessary, now men like Lafayette and Mirabeau can continue their work, unimpeded by you." Connor said seriously.

"You fool..." Vergennes replied. "I was working with them to secure France's future. Your friend Lafayette may be loved by the people, but he has no experience in the affairs of the state and on ruling the common people, and Mirabeau, he's no different."

Slightly relieved at the confirmation that Lafayette was not involved in the Templar's schemes. Connor grabbed Vergenne's collar as the older man slumped back, holding him up face to face.

"Where is the Apple? and who was the officer in charge of its protection?" He asked.

"I guess it doesn't make a difference now." The count smiled weakly. "He is Colonel De Grancey of the French Guard. But you are too late, the Apple is in possession of our vault keeper. And without me at the assembly, it will be out of your reach."

The count coughed and hacked, spewing out small bouts of blood.

"You may think you are making a difference, you may be right. But not in the way you think. Your actions today have doomed hundreds of thousands, if not more. You've thrown my country into the flames. You should know by now. There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who create, and those who destroy. Your own people suffered for it when you intervened."

Connor gritted his teeth as the old man chuckled softly in his death throes.

"That's something you assassins have never understood, something you've never been willing to acknowledge, even with all your power and skills. Yes, there are bound to be atrocities, but we must pay the price now to secure our future. The cost may be high up front, yes, but it will save many more lives in the long run. Your creed is nothing but a whimsical and naive view of the world. It has kept you from doing what needs to be done to save mankind from itself. That is why it is the duty of the Templars to step into the void and do what is right for the people."

"You say you are building a future... It's poetic in a way. I only wish i could see what kind of world you assassins can create, whose hands are only good for destruction."

Connor let go of the count now, and the old man gave one last cough as the poison slowly took root inside his body, robbing him of his sight and the movement of his limbs.

The count whispered his final words as he closed his eyes.

"If you deal with death...then it shall be your payment. Remember that, Connor. Remember it well."

Vergennes gave one last gasp of breath as he fell back on his seat. Dead.

Connor watched silently as the man collapsed into his seat, then leaned forward to close the Count's eyes and uttered a few words of passing in his native language.

"(There is no death. Only a change of worlds. May you find the peace that you seeked.)"

His job done, Connor kept an eye out on the road ahead, where already Arnaud and a few of his men were prepared to assist in Connor's escape.

As the carriage rounded the corner, Connor gave a low bird whistle, and the dragoons at the front of the escort reared their horses back as a crowd of Parsians rushed the coach. The dragoons had their hands full as the riled up citizens pulled at their horses and bridles, causing several to tumble and fall back. The captain of the guard shouted orders frantically, diverting the remaining dragoons away so that Connor remained unseen as he opened the coach door, jumping out and discarding his porter's wig and uniform, and vanishing smoothly into the crowd that gathered as the mob soon grew into a riot.

One Templar was dead, and a high ranking one at that. But if the Count's last words and his father's own journals were of any indication, his work was far from over.

Animus Database : The Assembly of Notables 1787

Historically, the Assembly of Notables was a group of notables invited by the King of France to consult on matters of state. But unlike the Estates General, whose members were elected by the subjects of the realm, the members of the Assemblies were selected by the king for their "zeal", "devotion", and their "fidelity" to the sovereign, and assemblies included royal princes, peers, archbishops, important judges, and, in some cases, major town officials. The king would issue a reforming edict or edicts after hearing their advice.

While the an Assembly of Notables had no legislative power in its own right, in the late 1780s, the King hoped that if the Assembly of Notables could be made to support the proposed reforms it would apply pressure on the parlement to register them. The plan failed, as the 144 Notables who made up the Assembly included Princes of the Blood, archbishops, nobles and other people from privileged positions in society, and they did not wish to bear the burden of increased taxation (ungrateful bastards!). The Assembly insisting that the proposed tax reforms had to be presented to a representative body such as an Estates General.

Count Vergennes was supposedly a part of the assembly, and his voice would have lent great weight to the proposed reforms on the King's side, but he had the indecency to die before the meeting. That's one way of skipping out on work early i suppose.

A/N: sorry guys for the delayed update, writer's block and work! but I will update when i can :) Thanks again for the reviews/faves/reads!

Hikari: Unfortunately no, but I'm flattered you consider my writing so! haha ;) thanks! Glad you liked the entries

East Coast Captain: Connor undoubtedly, will mature when he realizes the world is not as black and white as he thought. I totally agree with the lack of Haytham in the game, it's criminal, and I will correct it soon with this fic :)

WillZona: Thanks! Glad you liked it :) I will be sure to check it out when i have time

NinjaxSketcheartx : Thanks again for your reviews :) they really push me to write more! I'm very flattered you consider my action pieces inspirational. :) As yes, it is an unfortunate fact that back then (and even now), there are those who act like monsters during wars. The shard of eden, i confess, i didn't know about because i didn't finish the naval missions, but now that i have, it may have part to play later on!

Kirei Ryuusei: Thanks Kirei :) glad you liked it, more to come soon! And yes, it's a pain doing all the historical research, but i'm a nut for that sometimes :)

Tellemicus Sundance Thanks Tellemicus! Yes, Connor will definitely stick out like a sore thumb, but I don't think the French would be that awkward in their dealings with him, considering their own past alliances with the native tribes, and they should be very used to dealing with non-european minorities by now with their own exposure to Africa as well as the Turks in the far east.

Trever Paterson: Thanks for reading! :) Hope you enjoy this update too!