"Aye… 'Aytham still mournin' in'is office?" Thomas Hickey curiously asked Charles Lee, sitting at their usual table at the heart of the office and bedrooms of the Green Dragon Tavern. Lee quietly nodded with a melancholy facial expression.

Haytham pressed his lips tightly together as his eyes shut closed at the flickering flames of the candle that resided to his right. Leaned upon his arms which had supported his chin on the table, he hovered over tear soaken papers that smeared the ink of the drastic news he had received not long ago.

"Confound it, George… If we got rid of you when we rid of Braddock…"

Streams of tears flowed down both of his now pallid cheeks. An occasional sniffle echoed in the room as he continued to wipe the sadness off of his face. Shaking hands lifted the documents, and as much as he did not want to face the poor reality, he reread the letters that Lee had given him, which at first he took upon the expression it was good news because of the beautiful red bow that was elegantly tied.

"Master Kenway,

My sincerest apologies… But since the new commanding role has been bestowed to the haughty George Washington, he has sent several orders which sever ties with many of our targets. With this said, please bare the news I now write to you: The burning of many Iroquois Confederacy tribes was ordered as well. There have been reports confirmed the native woman you had worked with to eliminate Braddock was killed in such said fires.

Please, set all grievances aside, if you are afflicted by this letter. We cannot allow our leader to show weakness in our conquest for the Order in these pathetic colonies.

-Lee"

"Ziio…" Haytham could not help but repeat her name. She had shown him an amount of kindness no other woman nor man has ever offered. He truly was, as much as it seemed like weakness, in love with her. But gone… It was any other day and so sudden was the news, he cannot bear it. Not even himself. After some time has passed, his tears had dried. He sat alone in the dark, that not long ago the candle lost its flame. There was no light in the room, on the outside of his presence and in the depths of his heart.

"When you left me, for what I told you what I was… I felt nothing but heartbreak. But I still loved you. You were genuine to me… as is the first toy a child receives in the beginning of their life. You were the beginning of the hope I started to believe, that perhaps all this frivilocity could be set aside, and I may go home in open arms…

I will rid of George's life, Ziio. In compensation for yours…"