The King makes him ride into the city before meeting Lee. Apparently there's some sort of ruckus in the bay, and the King wants to watch his ships defeat the enemy. Connor sits side-saddle, not because he wants to, and prays to any gods, spirits or supernatural creatures that might be listening that the King's ships will fail.
It is the Aquila.
The ship is beautiful as always, though in severe disrepair. It goes down fighting, ramming into the largest of the King's fleet, and Connor feels his heart sink. A suicide mission, a last-ditch attempt at weakening the King's forces. His ship, his beautiful ship-- no, not his, not here-- disappears beneath the ocean.
The King laughs.
"What fools, thinking an act of petty rebellion could harm us."
Before Connor can answer, the King is knocked off his horse by a furious Kanen'tó:kon. He brandishes a tomahawk, and screams in Kanien'kehá:ka. The soldiers raise their rifles, and as much as Connor wishes the King dead, he does not want Kanen'tó:kon to die.
He slides off his horse, grabs his friend and pulls him backward, putting himself between the soldiers and Kanen'tó:kon.
"Kanen'tó:kon!" Connor yells, also in Kanien'kehá:ka. "Stop! I know you want the King dead, but this is not the way to do it! I already have a plan to steal his sceptre, and I need your help."
Kanen'tó:kon stares at him-- no, his mask-- with wide eyes, trying to figure out what is happening, who this man is. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.
"Ratonhnhaké:ton?"
Connor does not dare not, not while the King is watching. He grabs his friend's wrists, and shouts instead.
"Yes, but am not here because I want to be! I am working with the resistance, and I will tell you everything later. I need to stop the king from killing you. Please play along!"
"All right," Kanen'tó:kon replies after a long split second, pretending to struggle against the grip Connor has around his arms. "Shall I carry on shouting like this?"
"Yes!" Connor replies, before turning to the King, speaking English. "This man is from my village. He thinks you have slaughtered everybody. I am trying to tell him that you merely moved the people, but he will not listen so long as there are so many muskets pointed his way."
"We ought to just kill him," the King says.
"He is a respected leader," Connor says. "Killing him will only anger the native peoples of this land. But to have him willingly serve you… most of your troubles regarding my people would cease. If I can simply explain to him that you are the rightful king and leader of this nation, I am certain he will be a great asset to us."
The King cocks his head to one side, thinking hard. He waves a hand, and half the guns are lowered.
"Please, my love," Connor adds, in his most pleading tone. "I guarantee this will be worth the time and effort."
The King's lips twitch into a smile, and it is not a smile that Connor feels comfortable with.
"All right," he says, after a few tense moments, "But no more of that damned monkey language. He'll have to learn English, like a proper man. I'll even let you teach him if you want. …But."
There's a catch. There's always a damned catch.
"But what, my lord?" Connor asks.
"But you'll need to prove to me that your attentions with all these damned rebels are as innocent as you say they are."
Connor's stomach sinks, and he starts to feel sick. Damn it! Damn it all!
"Yes, my lord," he says, and the look of puzzlement on Kanen'tó:kon's face only adds to his shame. What must his mother's spirit think of him, the whore of her murderer?
"Take him away," the King says. "Put him in with the old rebels from last week."
Kanen'tó:kon is lead away by men with muskets, and Connor can only pray that his English isn't quite good enough to disclose the details of the exchange. He does not want to picture the expression on Haytham's face, on anybody's face should they find out exactly what the King now asks of him.
"Now that's been take care of, I believe Lee will be arriving at the north gate any minute now," the King smiles. "Shall we be off?"
"Yes, my lord," Connor says, getting back on his horse. "Thank you for sparing Kanen, my lord."
Gilded Cages 14/?
It is the Aquila.
The ship is beautiful as always, though in severe disrepair. It goes down fighting, ramming into the largest of the King's fleet, and Connor feels his heart sink. A suicide mission, a last-ditch attempt at weakening the King's forces. His ship, his beautiful ship-- no, not his, not here-- disappears beneath the ocean.
The King laughs.
"What fools, thinking an act of petty rebellion could harm us."
Before Connor can answer, the King is knocked off his horse by a furious Kanen'tó:kon. He brandishes a tomahawk, and screams in Kanien'kehá:ka. The soldiers raise their rifles, and as much as Connor wishes the King dead, he does not want Kanen'tó:kon to die.
He slides off his horse, grabs his friend and pulls him backward, putting himself between the soldiers and Kanen'tó:kon.
"Kanen'tó:kon!" Connor yells, also in Kanien'kehá:ka. "Stop! I know you want the King dead, but this is not the way to do it! I already have a plan to steal his sceptre, and I need your help."
Kanen'tó:kon stares at him-- no, his mask-- with wide eyes, trying to figure out what is happening, who this man is. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.
"Ratonhnhaké:ton?"
Connor does not dare not, not while the King is watching. He grabs his friend's wrists, and shouts instead.
"Yes, but am not here because I want to be! I am working with the resistance, and I will tell you everything later. I need to stop the king from killing you. Please play along!"
"All right," Kanen'tó:kon replies after a long split second, pretending to struggle against the grip Connor has around his arms. "Shall I carry on shouting like this?"
"Yes!" Connor replies, before turning to the King, speaking English. "This man is from my village. He thinks you have slaughtered everybody. I am trying to tell him that you merely moved the people, but he will not listen so long as there are so many muskets pointed his way."
"We ought to just kill him," the King says.
"He is a respected leader," Connor says. "Killing him will only anger the native peoples of this land. But to have him willingly serve you… most of your troubles regarding my people would cease. If I can simply explain to him that you are the rightful king and leader of this nation, I am certain he will be a great asset to us."
The King cocks his head to one side, thinking hard. He waves a hand, and half the guns are lowered.
"Please, my love," Connor adds, in his most pleading tone. "I guarantee this will be worth the time and effort."
The King's lips twitch into a smile, and it is not a smile that Connor feels comfortable with.
"All right," he says, after a few tense moments, "But no more of that damned monkey language. He'll have to learn English, like a proper man. I'll even let you teach him if you want. …But."
There's a catch. There's always a damned catch.
"But what, my lord?" Connor asks.
"But you'll need to prove to me that your attentions with all these damned rebels are as innocent as you say they are."
Connor's stomach sinks, and he starts to feel sick. Damn it! Damn it all!
"Yes, my lord," he says, and the look of puzzlement on Kanen'tó:kon's face only adds to his shame. What must his mother's spirit think of him, the whore of her murderer?
"Take him away," the King says. "Put him in with the old rebels from last week."
Kanen'tó:kon is lead away by men with muskets, and Connor can only pray that his English isn't quite good enough to disclose the details of the exchange. He does not want to picture the expression on Haytham's face, on anybody's face should they find out exactly what the King now asks of him.
"Now that's been take care of, I believe Lee will be arriving at the north gate any minute now," the King smiles. "Shall we be off?"
"Yes, my lord," Connor says, getting back on his horse. "Thank you for sparing Kanen, my lord."
"Anything for you, my Queen."