The assorted Rooks gathered milled about, confidence clearer in this operation than the last and Jacob found himself eyeing a few of his more trusted lieutenants in approval. He hadn't expected much with the men as disorganized as they'd previously shown themselves to be and yet right here and now his investments were showing dividends even before the inevitable confrontation to follow.
In fact the only issue they'd encountered so far with organizing the troops, as it were, was the logistics of travel. Perhaps it would be a good idea to begin investing in the carriage industry? Regardless, the few Blighters interspersed about the Battersea Bellows were clearly outnumbered and had no idea what was to come – Evie had already scouted the area ahead of time, informing him that the paltry amount of men stationed there simply wouldn't be able to stand against him and Jacob had trust in his sister, even without the marked improvements made to the Rooks.
"Men!" He yelled, nodding to himself as the gathered Rooks turned to him. "And women, of course." He cracked. "The plan today is to take control of the Battersea bellows! This will mark the first true foothold the Rooks have into Lambeth and then? Then the rest of the borough follows!"
A chorus of raucous cheers met his announcement and Jacob allowed himself to feel a little pride in the gang he'd made, raising a hand into the air and letting it fall.
At the agreed upon signal his Rooks surged forward, a tide of green vests and jackets against the dreary backdrop of London's dull grays and murky browns.
"Excellent." Evie murmured, concealed as she was in shadow and Jacob smirked, turning to the other assassin. "With this I should be able to get at the Fletchers unnoticed."
Jacob chuckled. "Don't rush yourself Evie, after this I believe we'll ride the momentum, as it were." He grinned, watching as his boys cut a path through the opposing gang from above. "Maybe take out the section of Echostre- and you're gone." He sighed, turning back to regard the spot his sister had previously been perched upon. "Quite rude, sister mine. What would father say?"
The night air failed to provide an answer and Jacob smiled, allowing the sounds of violence to replace his sister's dulcet tones. Since their discussion the night previous things seemed to have been cleared between them and he'd been left wondering just what came next. They'd barely been in London for more than a week and already his sister was embroiled in a merry chase for the pieces of Eden and he'd practically cleared out Whitechapel and yet…
And yet, he'd made no headway on his self-imposed mission to claim Evie's heart. He'd spied the fleeting looks Evie shared with Henry Green and he knew that if he didn't make a move fast then he'd be out of the race before it had even begun. 'A race for my own sister's heart.' He mused wryly, absently tapping a finger against his forearm as he leaned back against a nearby wall. 'Jacob Frye, what are you doing?'
He knew, of course, that what he was doing was sick, that if any of the brotherhood discovered his depraved machinations he'd be lucky if they disavowed his actions and excommunicated him and yet he couldn't help it; any time he considered stopping, considered finding a nice normal girl to settle down with he instead ended up thinking of Evie, blue irises like sapphires gleaming in the Indian sun as she vanished from his life, leaving him with fucking postcards and a hollow feeling within his racing heart.
No, absolutely not. He didn't give a shit if anyone else took his urges as sick or wrong, all he cared for was the future he could imagine with her. A future with the Rooks under their control, London out of Templar hands and perhaps a quaint little place to call their own.
A cacophony of sound pulled him from his reverie and Jacob hurriedly stood, brushing errant brown locks from his forehead as he stepped forward. "Excellent work lads, Battersea is ours!" He hollered and his troupe's cries echoed back to meet him.
Stage one was complete – at this point he could simply retire if he so chose, maybe pursue another of Dickens' quaint novelty stories or see if Abberline needed any assistance. But then, they'd made record time, hadn't they?
Mind made up, Jacob stepped forward and swept his arms wide to earn the group's silence. "Who's up for another?" He growled, a vicious light gleaming within hazel irises and while a few of the men shuffled anxiously another cry soon went up among the gathered Rooks. "To Echostreet then!"
As Jacob roused his forces into a march on the nearby cul-de-sac Evie was focusing on her own objective.
A small grunt escaped as she attempted to pick the lock of the building she'd chosen to target – since Yale's company had formed in Connecticut a few months prior she'd seen more and more cylinder locks on the market and while she usually relished the challenge a well-made lock posed she found in this instance the bloody thing was doing its job a little too well.
With a huff she decided to forego her attempt to pick the lock, instead hopping up onto a nearby fence and hauling herself up onto the roof before any Blighters happened to spy her. Below her targets continued to mill about obliviously and Evie focused as she knelt on the battered tiles littering the run-down buildings roof.
It was interesting to see the proliferation of modernity amongst the dirt roads and ramshackle buildings of London's less affluent areas. Wherever the Templars went they seemed to bring with them a false sense of civility that only highlighted just how out of place they really were when placed alongside the working class boroughs of London.
But then, that's what the Templars were, weren't they? Parasites that took and espoused control even as the people starved and died around them; so long as they got theirs no one else mattered.
A keen sense of loathing filled Evie at the reality of the Templars and she fingered her hidden blade even as she maintained her position near the window Francis Fletcher had chosen to lean out of.
Minutes passed until, finally, she caught something interesting.
"Ridiculous, puttin' us with the rabble." The man grumbled, veins apparent from her position and she silently counted the many different ways she could kill him before he even noticed her. 'aven't we earned our stripes? But no, instead bloody Thorne gets an apartment of 'er own in Westminster with Starrick and Graves and we get piss and stone!"
"Enough, France." Josephine Fletcher groaned, apparently as tired of her husband's whining as Evie was. "You want a place in 'Minster you should stop with the opium! Never mind bloody Thorne, I don't fancy a place near the Thames!"
Westminster, near the Thames…
Josephine stepped forward, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder and Evie forcibly pushed down the small glimmer of guilt as she swooped through the window into the startled pair, hidden blade deploying. They had never lamented the lives they ruined and so she wouldn't lament theirs.
As quickly as she had entered the building she left, jumping back out the window and blending among the huddled masses until the Blighters finally faded from sight, replaced by the usual humdrum of London's evening crowd.
In the distance the sunset lingered on the horizon and Evie sighed, lifting her hands to push back her hood and smiling. The Bellows had been taken, the Fletchers taken care of and she now had a solid lead on Thorne. What else could she possibly want from the day?
As if on cue her eyes wandered over a small object in the distance and she paused, doubling back as she knelt down to cradle the innocuous object in her grasp. "Mignonette?" She wondered, smile softening as she regarded the fragile flower. "How delightful."
Henry would be pleased.
An image of the gentle Indian assassin flitted across the front of her mind and her fingers unconsciously tightened around her latest find's stem. Hastily she packed the small flower into the satchel at her side before she damaged it, stepping back from the makeshift grave standing beneath the bridge and eyeing the tracks overhead.
Was it time to head back? No, Starrick's forces would be on high alert and with Thorne's location under her belt she would be better served finding the woman's apartment tonight before she could abscond with whatever information she may have on the pieces of Eden - though if she was venturing into an unknown part of the city she'd need backup. The question became, however, Jacob or Henry?
Henry had more knowledge of the city – the man was stealthy and had his own information network, he'd be a definite boon however in the event of an ambush Jacob would definitely be better in a fight.
"Penny for your thoughts?" A familiar voice piped up and Evie took a deep breath, resting her forehead against the wall and stifling a curse. Apparently the choice had been made for her.
"Jacob," She greeted, straightening from her slight slump and turning to meet his proud gaze. "Liberated the Bellows I see." She observed dryly, unable to quite hide the curl of her lips as he nodded like a proud puppy.
"And Echostreet, Evie!" He beamed. "Was half a step off of going after Graves' territory but figured I'd come check on you."
Evie paused. "Graves?" She repeated. '"-Starrick and Graves-"' "Isn't she based in Westminster?"
Had she received the wrong information? Had they somehow known? Templars were typically a cowardly lot but on occasion you could stumble across the rare pairs that might hide zealotry comparable to even the strictest of Brotherhood master assassins. If they'd been attempting to trick her-
"That's her sister. Haven't you checked Greenie's notes?" Jacob chuckled and immediately Evie jolted, skirting past the fact that Jacob had actually put in the work to read the other assassin's notes as her mind raced.
"If Starrick, Graves and Thorne are based in Westminster the woman's sister could prove a weak link! She could know where her sister is based, local Templar operations, the word of mouth regarding Starrick himself and maybe even where we can find Thorne during her activities!" She blurted, excitement rising at the very concept. "Jacob, this could be huge! If the Fletchers knew where Thorne was based there's no telling what she could know!"
Jacob hummed, casually tapping the latest cane he'd taken to wearing against the rough stonework of the bridge. "Kidnap Mildred Graves, expand towards 'Minster and possibly get an in on the Thames?" He spoke slowly as though to savor the words on his tongue, stroking at the stubble adorning his chin before finally smirking back at her. "Consider me sold, Evie."
"Right!" Evie paused, brow furrowing as she registered his agreement. "And you say you know where Graves is located?" She reiterated, suddenly a lot more dubious on the logic of her plan.
Jacob frowned. "Evie Frye, are you doubting me?" He huffed, back arching much like an offended cat.
Evie stifled her smile. "Not at all, brother dear." She simpered, losing the fight as he leveled her with a flat look. "Still, perhaps this time things might work out better if you tell me where to find Graves while you go get Abberline."
"Hm, not Greenie?" He wondered and she flushed.
She couldn't deny that since arriving in London she'd been enthralled by the assassin assigned to the city. Humble, kind and modest, Henry Green had proven to be a valuable source of information and a trustworthy sponsor and in time, she hoped, he would prove to be a valuable confidant and friend.
And perhaps more, if time permitted. Still, she dared not say that to her twin – a month ago she'd have said she was worried about teasing but now, after his confession and the following rift, she was more concerned about further solidifying the wedge they'd just managed to remove. She refused to feel guilty about how she'd acted however; how could she have known how to react when he went and confessed something like that?
"Evie?"
She started slightly. "Right. Yes." Something within his gaze told her that he knew what she'd been thinking but she immediately discarded the notion, forcing herself not to shift listlessly – an old habit from her childhood that she'd never quite gotten rid of. "No, Henry has enough to contend with, I think. Abberline can extract answers from Graves far better than we would be able to."
"You think Freddie would do that?"
Evie shook her head at her twin's skeptical tone, giving him a dry look. "It's not all about the stick Jacob, you'll find the carrot oft works just as well." She lectured only to be forced to a halt as he snickered behind his hand. "What?"
Jacob turned away, trying to hide his face momentarily before no doubt giving it up as a bad job and relenting. "Oh, nothing. I'll go get Freddie then, you focus on finding Graves."
Seconds later he dashed off, disappearing around the corner towards the streets of Lambeth and Evie went over the facts he'd presented.
Mildred Graves, younger sister to Lilah Graves. The older sister ran the streets of Westminster with an iron fist and supposedly used her sister's connections in Lambeth to hide any undesirables she decided needed to 'disappear'. Usually located in the lower income sections of Lambeth, apparently the youngest sister of the Graves family had squandered her portion of their inheritance and now relied on her older sister's purse-strings.
It was the latter piece of information that firmly cemented the decision to give her to Abberline's care instead of simply attempting to extract information herself – when it came to money there were a great many things the less moral would do and, given the chance to cut a leech from the body, she couldn't guarantee that Lilah wouldn't simply wave off the loss.
Although who could say? Family usually won out, after all. Blood ran thick.
The thought dogged her heels as she traced a path across dirt roads and rickety rooftops and she had to force herself to pay closer attention when she finally spied a larger influx of red coats and jeering hollers than the usual disorganized rabble that roamed the rest of Lambeth.
Graves had chosen a cemetery of all places to base her operations and Evie's nose wrinkled in distaste, tracking the woman's path as she stepped past a pair of brutes and examined a grave marker. A victim, perhaps, or someone close? Evidently not too close, however, as Mildred sneered, kicking the stone with a boot and stalking away.
The Blighters around Mildred thinned at the furthest part of the cemetery and Evie idly noted the nearest exits and carriages, preparing to make her move on her target.
This would be an easy hunt.