Hey guys! This is my take on the travel back in time stuff... So please read and review!

"Where? Where am I?" Connor groaned as his eyes fluttered open. He cringed when the bright light of the sun greeted him. He was lying down on the ground; he could feel the blades of the grass grazing softly against his skin and he could smell an earthly scent that drifted towards his nostrils. Connor tried to sit up. His head felt heavy and numb, Connor has no idea what happened. All he can remember is that he was just doing his usual job in hunting an elk through the American frontier. He doesn't recall a group of bandits that assaulted him and hit him in the head or even knocking himself out by falling from a tree. Maybe it has something to do with that bright light that appeared out of nowhere before he woke up on this leaf-carpeted floor.

"Maybe I'm just dreaming... Or not, everything just look real" the young assassin put his hood down and took a deep breath.

Connor looked around, trying to distinguish where he was. He was convinced he's in the middle of a forest, rows of trees surrounded him, he can hear the flow of a stream not too far from him and the sound of drumming woodpeckers attacking the wizened bark of trees. All of it seemed normal; yet, Connor sensed that something doesn't feel right.

This time he forced himself to stand up. He decided to venture around, if he finds everything is alright, it may not hurt to go back to the Homestead. Connor walked his way through the thick undergrowth, twigs crunching under his feet. If felt odd though, Connor knew that he is not familiar of the place. It was rather impossible to familiarize yourself in a forest, but Connor always finds his way on getting back to where he is supposed to go. All he needs is to find the highest spot he can find and try to look for his desired destination. But from the looks of this place, it seems like that the nearest viewpoint he can find is far too away from where he's standing on right now.

"My only way of getting back on track is too search for a road where merchant's caravans usually pass by. In that case, I can take a ride back to the city where the merchant is headed" he thought, considering the fact that merchants travel back and forth from one city to another.

Soon enough, the young assassin saw a dirt road with tracks are still visible on it. It is a sign that such road is used by caravans for trading. Connor sat by the edge of the road, leaning on the tree and rested his head on its bark. Patience was never Connor's best quality. From time to time, he would throw rocks aimlessly with a big frown painted on his face or even plucking furiously at the grass just beside him. It wasn't long until he'd given up and fell asleep under the shade of the tree.

"Oy!" an old man's voice rang through Connor's ears. He opened his eyes and saw an old man standing in front of him.

"Wha-?" Connor mumbled, and the old man rolled his eyes at the man in front of him. The old man was pudgy. He was wearing a typical clothing of traders roaming around the frontier. Connor can't distinguish much of what the old man looks like, maybe because the only light that was available came from the lantern on the man's hands.

"It's late what are ya doing here? Ya don't have a place to stay?" the man inquired. His sharp accent just caught Connor's attention.

"I'm waiting for a trader to pass by this road. I was hoping that I could join the ride just up to the next city. From there I'll just see what I can do" Connor explained as he tried to stand up. The moment he looked at the man, Connor was towering the old man, due to their difference in their height. The old man gave a toothy grin, though a few of his teeth went missing and Connor did not dare to laugh at the man.

"Ya take a ride with me. I'm off ta Boston tonight. Ya can probably stay in mah wife's sister's inn there" the old man offered as he motioned Connor to the caravan. The young man can't help but feel glad at the same time feel a bit embarrassed. He was never used to be aided by other people before. In fact, he was the one who always runs to them whenever they are in trouble. Connor was a man who can stand up on himself; he grew up without depending on other people.

"Umm... Thank you, sir. For helping me" he mumbled as he took his seat beside the old man who readied his horse. The old man heard Connor and gave a light grin.

"Ya don't have to thank me. Tha name's John Plum, at ya service" John reached out his arm for a handshake. Connor shook his hand hesitantly. He was quickly reminded by the first time he had a handshake with someone. It was Samuel Adams. The guy Achilles entrusted to get him out of Boston when all of them had their eyes on him.

"My name's Connor" he said with a smile but the old man gave him a questioning stare as the caravan started to move.

"Ya don't have a surname?"

"Well, I'm a bit hesitant in using it... I just use it when it's really necessary" Connor reasoned out. He never really formally used his father's surname, probably because he doesn't know much about the man. Judging from his latest encounters with him, he wasn't really that kind of father that will go on warm and loving to him upon knowing his son's existence. Maybe that's just the kind of man his father was.

"Well, I won't force ya if you don't wanna tell. I say, ya must get some good ol' rest there. It's gonna be a tiring day tomorrow once ya got to Boston" John suggested and Connor nodded in agreement. It was probably best if he take a rest. Despite napping under a tree earlier, he still felt tired and lacking sleep. It may not hurt to follow the old man. Thus, Connor closed his eyes and went to sleep.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Hey, kid. Wake up!"

Connor woke up and found himself in front of the tavern called Green Dragon Tavern. The name was familiar, Connor would usually pass by here whenever he's in Boston, but he never actually got to visit it since he was never a fan of spending his time drinking those disgusting beverages. His fellow assassin once tried to make him drink, but he ended up getting drunk after drinking half of the mug ale in one gulp. He really felt bad and swore that he won't make himself drink something like that again. At some point in time, the assassins never really got over of what happen that night and Connor never really wanted to know what happened.

"Are ya gonna go down or what?" John called out his arms crossed out on his chest. Connor went down the caravan; he figured that it was already dawn. How long have they been travelling?

"Ya would love this place, those sweet malt beers, beautiful maids, lively music and comfortable rooms to stay in for a day!" John said enthusiastically and Connor chuckled nervously. He clearly dislike such a place, but since the old man showed him such hospitality, he thought it might be just fair if he could stick around the place for a day or so.

As they opened the door, they were greeted by a middle aged woman who was throwing snide remarks at man who might be a worker in the tavern. Connor cringed at the loud screams and curses of the woman.

"Don't worry, she's not really that bad" John whispered to Connor and the young assassin just shook his head. Once the woman saw Connor and John at the door, she instantly became the kind old lady with a bright smile on her face. Connor rolled his eyes in disgust. She is definitely that kind of old lady in the books Connor read back in the Homestead.

"Welcome! What can we do for such a handsome customer?" she approached Connor, reaching out to hug him or something and the young assassin took a step back. He most definitely doesn't want her touching him.

"Umm... Thank you and a room, I guess?"Connor said, hoping that the lady wouldn't notice the act of rudeness he showed earlier. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind.

"Peter will lead you to your room. We will give you a fresh set of clothes as we dry up your, uh, costume? Say, you have such weird taste in clothing" the woman said as she stared at Connor from head to toe.

"I get that all the time..." Connor mumbled

As soon as Connor was brought to his quarters, he was given new clean clothes and got dressed. He hid all his weapons in a box just below the bed he will have to sleep on. His Assassin Robes were taken and was put into the tavern's laundry. Connor was hesitant at first, but they insisted and Connor was forced to do they asked him to do. He stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was tied in a fashion that looked a lot like the way his father tied his hair, his clothes were clothes of an ordinary citizen in Boston. For once, Connor felt like he was really a part of the crowd. He felt he's not really that isolated despite the fact that there are still features of Native American blood can still be traced on his face even though looked a lot like his father.

"I feel odd" he mumbled and Peter, the housekeeper heard him.

"Well, you look normal to me in those clothes. Judging from the robes you wore earlier plus the weapons you held, you must be a hunter, are you?" he said as he folds the blankets on the other bed. Connor turns around and stared at the man. He was skinny yet, he looked well-groomed despite his job as a housekeeper.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are there two beds? I thought I'm the only one resting in this room for a day?"

"Oh that. Sir Charles Lee ordered to reserve a room for an upcoming guest today. From what I've heard he came from Britain and according to the other maids, he's quite an important man" Peter said casually. The name Charles Lee never fails to make Connor's blood boil. Connor wasn't sure if the hatred within him can be traced on the expression of his face, he tried not to let it surface.

"Do you have any idea who that guest is?" Connor asked, trying to know more about this subject. He has suspicions that maybe this guest is another member of the Templar Order, that they might plan something dubious again.

"I guess he goes by the name, Haytham Kenway. I heard Sir Charles talking about that this is the first time he'll step on American land." Connor must've heard it wrong. His father was just about to arrive in this land for the first time? Right now? It's impossible! His father stayed in America way before he was even born! How come?

"Are you alright, sir? You seemed to get a bit pale..." Peter asked

"Are you sure his name is Haytham Kenway?"

"Yeah, no doubt about it"

"Would you mind telling me what year it is?" Connor asked, hoping that Peter's answer is the current year he's been living in.

"It's the year 1754, why?"

Connor swore he was about to lose his mind then and there. That light that swallowed him before, that light brought him back in time! He travelled back in time!

"I have to leave. Sir William Johnson needs me. Just call me when you need something" Peter said as he left the room, leaving Connor alone, lost in his thoughts.

"Great, now Johnson is still alive... My day just got better and better" Connor sighed as his eyes darted towards the window.

So, how was it? Don't forget to review!