Haytham regretted not killing Achilles Davenport after his informants discovered the location of where Connor sent his purchases and trades to. He and his brothers spent years hunting and eliminating the Assassin Brotherhood in America. They had captured and tried Davenport; but out of respect for the old man, the Grandmaster had spared his life under the condition he was not to meddle in their affairs ever again.

Now, Haytham had to reap what he sowed. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the Assassin Brotherhood had been revived after all these years. Each day, they grew stronger and bolder under his son's leadership. Which was why he was still in Boston, sitting at table in the far back corner of a quaint little tavern that was anything but. This was the wolves den. A place that was filled with dangerous ideals and equally dangerous people who fought for them.

He had his eyes on six individuals gathered at the bar. They were a rowdy lot; laughing and having a merry conversation while their weapons holstered but within reach. According to his reports, only three of the six resided in Boston, and the other three in New York. Good to know, if he planned on picking them off one by one in the future.

"What is that stuff, Stephane?" one of the assembled Assassins asked while rudely pointing at the contents on the platter before him.

"That stuff? That stuff?!" The French chef asked incredulously from behind the bar. His face flushed with anger and ready to blow up, which was probably a usual occurrence as none of the other patrons glanced over at the outburst. "Le cerveau il etait en option chez toi!"

"Okay... ah didn't understand any oh that, but 'am sure it was an insult."

Sitting behind the bar, the other four assassins - three men and one woman - shook their heads and chuckled in amusement.

"He said your brain was optional, Jamie."

At once, all six assassins swiveled their heads towards the stairs leading to the tavern's second floor. Standing alone at the top, was the alpha of the wolf pack. Haytham unconsciously stroked the hilt of his sword and remained out of sight as his son descended down the steps. Connor was now dressed in his full assassin attire, hood up, and ready for war by the amount of weapons on him.

"Thanks, Connor. How was Bridewall?" Jamie Curley asked while poking at the 'stuff' that was sitting on his plate. The man was actually about to take a bite until a fist lightly punched the side of his face. "Owww... now why did'ja have to go and do that for, Dobby?!"

"Think of what you say before you say it!" Deborah 'Dobby' Carter snapped. "How do you think it feels to be wrongly accused, locked up in prison, and nearly executed?"

"Ah don't know, that's why ah was askin'!"

"You're such a knob end!"

"Enough." Connor's voice was soft but firm, like a heavy blanket thrown over a campfire, it extinguished any hostility among his pack. "Prison was nothing that I could not handle, but thank you all for coming to my aide when you did."

"Least we could do, lad," spoke the Irish assassin, Duncan Little, wearing a priest habit. "Scared us half to death to see standing up there at the gallows. You should thank the old man for rounding us up."

"I will do that."

"So what's the plan, Connor?" asked the oldest member of the group. "Need help taking down another Fort?"

"Or some extra hands on the Aquila?"

While sipping his tea, Haytham inwardly let out a derisive chuckle. These assassin recruits, for all their talk actions against his Order, were no more than wolf pups who were eager to please. Unfortunately, the same could be said about his son who won battles and let others reap the benefits.

"No, not this time my friends." Connor shook his head and retrieved some papers from his coat pocket before handing them out. "I have contracts for each of you while I'm away."

The youngest assassin at the bar, was visibly upset. "I was hoping we could fight together again, sir."

"Another time, Clipper. Even though Hickey is dead, I do not doubt that the Templars will try to assassinate Commander Washington again. I need to protect him, for that I need each one of you to be where I cannot."

Jacob Zerger, a burly man who appeared to be the oldest of the lot, only nodded and tucked his contract away. "Very well, but do not hesitate to call on us."

Connor nodded, and after their business was finalized Stephane Chapheau clapped his hands and gestured to the untouched food he and labored over. "Eat up, we will need our strength in the battles yet to come."

"You still haven't told us what this stuff is."

Stephane glared back at Clipper Wilkinson who leaned back as if he expected to be attacked by butcher knives at any moment. Truth be told, the other assassins weren't sure what to make of the food on their plate. Haytham was surprised that they could be so picky after most of them guzzled down mugs of cheap alcohol in which many of them colorfully described as 'piss water'.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Connor leaned forward, picking up a piece with his fingers and began to eat before the chef had a chance to explode. The other wolves watched him anxiously for a reaction from their alpha, and after he swallowed the last bite, began to eat as well.

"This is really good!"

"I don't even care what it is anymore!"

Naturally, the chef puffed his chest out with pride as his comrades began to clean their plates.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Stephane. I am in your debt." Connor wiped his mouth clean before picking up his duffel as he was about to head out.

"You are welcome here any time, Connor. Did you enjoy the food?"

"Very much. I did not know snails could taste that good."

After their leader left, there was a brief silence before the sounds of retching and screaming filled the air; startling all of the other occupants of the tavern.

"Chie ingrats! Get out! Get out!"

Haytham shook his head, while watching Stephane brandish a rolling pin and began to chase the other assassins out of the tavern. He would let these wolves run free for now. At least until he had their alpha under his control.