Previously in this series: After being framed for a crime, Jacob left the Order and the Assassin village. Five years later, the Young Assassin team meet Vex and enter into an agreement with him and his club. After a bombing at the club, it is revealed that Shay Patrick Cormac has escaped the high-security prison he was in…. and is now in the wind. Jacob however, after making a brief appearance at a festival, is still in the wind.

It also appears as though Vex has ulterior motives to helping the Creed.

Please enjoy, and read and review J

…

"Mon Dieu…" Arno groaned, "… I forgot how much using Eagle Vision hurts with a hangover."

Edward couldn't reply… he simply groaned in agreement, resting his forehead against the cool wall that was part of their training session.

"Why is your Uncle doing this to us?"

"… Because he likes watching people suffer… it's how he survives, he feeds off suffering."

"Then I'll be well-fed today, hmm?"

The pair yelped, spinning around and groaning in unison as Haytham smirked at them. "If you two are quite done, we have a bit of a situation on our hands."

…..

Rookwood's house was certainly impressive, his stables even more so… the dead body ruined the whole view though.

"Alright Leo…" Edward greeted, rushing over with Arno, wincing at the pain in his head, "… what we got?"

"It's Howard Rookwood."

"Please tell me this is just another case of someone not holding their drink… why did Freddie call us in?"

Leo shrugged, "Nessuna idea… it looks like he fell and got trampled by the horses." He then frowned and leaned closer to the body, "Or so it seems… this head wound looks nothing like a horse trample wound, and I know what horse trample wounds look like."

Yeah, probably through experiments with dead pigs knowing Leo.

"So… what caused it?"

"Hmmm, something with a flat, hard surface."

Edward frowned, "So… the killer hits him and then what? Makes it look like he was trampled by horses…. A bit much ain't it?"

"It's what it looks like…" Leo pushed himself to his feet and sighed, "… Che peccato… he did so much for the community."

"Apparently someone thought otherwise."

….

Later on, as they were taking the body away and the children of the Baker house gathered around in morbid curiosity, Edward pulled Arno to one side. "No wallet, watch or those nice cufflinks he was wearing last night… robbery gone wrong?"

"Then we give it back to the police, we don't have time for robbery cases…." Arno watched as several members of the police force started to make casts of the prints in the area, "… They are in charge of comparing them against anyone who might have had access, right?"

"Well I'm not doing it…. Where are the horses by the way?"

"Being processed I think. Ezio and Connor took charge of that, you know how they are with animals."

"Better them than me."

…

"Howard Rookwood is… was one of my best friends."

"And business partner, correct?" Evie questioned, resisting the urge to neaten her hair. She had gotten out of bed less than an hour ago, woken by Haytham who had put her in charge of questioning everyone that Rookwood knew.

"Yes… going on twenty years now. We were fraternity brothers… fraternity brothers who wanted to take on the world." The man then sighed wearily, "Of course, I don't think either of us thought it would be the world of glue."

Hmmm… a tone of bitterness there?

"When was the last time you saw Mister Rookwood?"

"Last night… at the anniversary fundraiser. I believe I saw you there?"

He hadn't made the connection with her last name then.

"I was yes, for a short time… did you notice anything unusual Sir?"

"Not that i- wait…. There was one odd thing. Rookwood and Baker seemed to… they seemed to have an argument."

"An argument? What about?"

"… I don't know."

….

"Yes, me and Howard had words…." Mister Baker confirmed, "… It's a bit of an overstatement though."

Watching as several young girls rushed by, Evie shrugged, "Even so, I need to know what the argument was about Mister Baker."

"… Howard wanted to change the architectural drawings of the new dormitory wing… again."

"You didn't appreciate that I assume?"

"He was such a perfectionist, and it was last minute… of course, we'll adhere to his wishes now. In fact, we'll be naming the wing after him."

"Like a memorial?"

"He deserved it, he was a self-made man…. I think it helped him to see the potential in the children, no matter what their backgrounds were."

Evie nodded in understanding, glancing at a group of children playing nearby, recognising one or two of them from the older Creed families. "Can you think of anyone who might want to harm Mister Rookwood?"

"Miss Frye…" Mister Baker gave him a slightly admonishing look, "… I doubt you'll find anyone who can even speak ill of him."

"Alright… has there been anything… troubling in his life lately?"

"Well… I understand there were some problems back at home."

….

"She's doing so well… trying to be brave."

Ezio turned away from the window, where he was watching Rookwood's daughters wandering around in the garden. Knowing that Evie was exhausted from the previous night, both physically and mentally, Ezio volunteered to talk to the victims' family.

Woman generally tended to tell him everything.

"I'm very sorry for your loss Mrs Rookwood."

"It's all just… very difficult to comprehend."

Ezio nodded in sympathy, before sitting himself opposite Mrs Rookwood, thinking back to what Evie had told him about her conversations with the other two. "Mister Baker has stated that there had been some problems at home… a mad employee he believed."

"Oh… he must be referring to Mister Gorman."

"Mister Gorman?"

"Miles Gorman. He was Howards's valet." She shook her head, her eyes focused on an old family photo, "He was very full of himself if you ask me."

"So, he was let go?"

"Yes… it all started about six months ago. Small things started to go missing… the fine silver, little vases… that sort of thing. I suspected Gorman from the beginning, so I asked Howard to fire him."

It all sounded a bit rushed and presumptive to Ezio, but he decided not to comment. "And, how did Mister Gorman take that?"

"Poorly… very poorly."

…..

After making sure he had all the answers, and that Mrs Rookwood was alright, Ezio headed out of the house, his eyes quickly falling on Howard's daughter, who was sitting on the bench outside.

"I'm sorry for the loss of your Father."

She barely glanced up at him, "He's really gone… isn't he?"

Slowly, he went to kneel opposite her. "I promise… the Creed will find out who did this." At her silence, he cautiously continued, "I've lost people close to me as well…" His mind instantly filled with memories of his brothers, killed by Templars so long ago, "… you only have to say goodbye when you're ready to."

….

"Finding the murder weapon was easy enough…" Arno reported, holding up a spade as he and the rest of the team gathered in the conference room for a debrief, "… unfortunately, any fingerprints that are on it are too smudged to be of any use."

"Where was it?"

"In an alley near the glue factory…" Edward stated, "… look at the metal bit, there's clearly blood on it."

Leaning in, Connor gave the spade a cursory sniff (with the other members wincing slightly). "Yes… it's blood alright."

"Why can't you use Eagle Vision… or a magnifying glass like everyone else?" Edward groaned, pulling out the tool in question, "Look… there's hairs on it as well. Did your nose smell them as well?"

"Alright, enough…" Henry interrupted before Connor could retort, "… Arno, Edward. You've been placed in charge of this investigation…. What's the next stage?"

"Ummmmm…"

"We will need to find Rookwood's old valet, Miles Gorman…" Evie spoke up, taking pity on the two men who'd obviously worked hard, but on the site, not with the witnesses, "… and do we need to contact Freddie for anything?"

"Yes!" Arno leapt at the chance, "Something should go and see how they're doing with the shoe prints. Connor, maybe?"

Connor nodded in agreement, as Arno turned to Ezio. "I think Leo went to help with the autopsy… maybe you should check in with him… and take the murder weapon?"

"Inteso."

…..

"Well, the back of the shovel is consistent with the head wound…" Leo confirmed, holding the shovel near the body's head, "… but judging from the size and shape of the fractured area, I'd say it came from an over-head swing."

"… How tall is Rookwood?"

"Six feet, one inch."

Ezio thought to himself for a moment, mimicking the over-head swing slowly, before shaking his head. "If he was hit from behind, with an overhead swing… then why is the wound so low on the back of his head?"

"I was wondering exactly the same thing."

"… Is that why you have all those watermelons over there?"

"You know me so well."

…

They went through several watermelons, with a homemade contraption that stood at Rookwood's exact height, with the watermelon as the head. With each watermelon, Ezio got lower and lower until the mark from the spare spade matched the wound on Rookwood's head perfectly.

"Perfezionare!" Leo announced, marching through the broken bits of watermelon, "That matches the wound perfectly!"

"Il mio amore… my legs are starting to ache."

"Don't move!"

"Quickly Leo!"

Leo paused, and turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. "Don't tell me your training never prepared you for this?"

"…. I'm eager to know more about our killer, time is of the essence. I could hold this position for ever."

Leo grabbed the measuring tape, moving to stand by Ezio… and waited.

"Alright…" Ezio eventually confessed, "…. Maybe hours is a bit of a stretch."

Chuckling, Leo quickly measured his boyfriend, before pulling away. "Sixty-four inches."

"… About five feet, three inches?"

"Hmmm, the killer is on the short side."

"Si…. Just a bit."

….

"Don't even ask about the shoeprints…" Freddie spoke up, before Connor could even say anything, "… the soil isn't right for them. Three prints have been ruined already."

"I've got one Sir!"

"Finally!" Freddie threw his hands up into the air, "My Police force isn't completely incompetent!"

Once the print imprint had been removed, Connor took it and examined it closely. "Hmmm… notice how the heel is deeper than the toe… someone with a limp."

"… Except that we have four unaccounted sets that look exactly like that."

Connor frowned, "Four?"

Nodding, Freddie pulled out his phone. "Hmmm…. According to Leo and Ezio, the killer stand at about five feet three."

"You have a theory, Freddie?"

"… What if we're dealing with children?"