Assassins Creed Connor - Saga

The Davenport Homestead became his anvil. For a year, he chopped wood, learned Latin, and traced the hidden blade’s mechanism until his fingers bled. For another year, he ran the rooftops of Boston in the dark, learning to be a ghost. Achilles was cruel in his kindness—always reminding Ratonhnhaké:ton that the Colonial Brotherhood was dead because of men like his own father, Haytham Kenway.

One night, Achilles coughed blood into a handkerchief. “You see it now, don’t you? The Assassins fight for freedom. But freedom is a knife without a handle. Everyone bleeds.” Assassins Creed Connor Saga

That day, the forest screamed. Not with wolves, but with men. Charles Lee’s men. They came with torches and the promise of English coin. The village burned like a dry field. Ratonhnhaké:ton held his mother’s hand as the smoke choked the sky. She pushed him toward the river. The Davenport Homestead became his anvil