Oops. It's been a long time since I last updated. I kinda got caught up in the business of life and kinda ditched FFN for awhile. But I'm here, and remembered to update. Thanks to everyone still reading this, and I'll try to update faster (the story is finished and has been for years). If anyone is keen, I run a creative writing discord server and forum. Check my profile for more information - keen to have more writers join us!

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Chapter Fifteen: Dance of Death

Poverty was never a pretty thing to see; beggars on the streets with nothing but torn scraps for clothing, rummaging through rubbish, hoping to find a few coins and food to help them last one more day. There were children among these beggars, their hands covered in black smoke, bodies battered and bruised. All common signs of mistreatment and long arduous hours at the factories, undertaking tasks they shouldn't even be doing.

But it wasn't just beggars and children – the alleyway leading up to the factory was alive. There were even houses here, if they could even be called that. Buildings held together by wooden planks lined both sides of the streets, and every so often a person would emerge. He soon learned these 'houses' were kept for the factory workers. This is where the Templars kept them caged like animals.

This was the slums of the Strand, a small community built outside the steel factory by Templars to keep the people close. Here they could watch them, and ensure all workers remained in sight. Death was the only escape. He walked past a family of four sitting on the ground, their clothes covered in dirt, their expressions long and grim. He could see the marks of beatings flesh on their skin. He looked away to swat at a pesky fly. Flies everywhere. Rats too. Even the animals were desperate for food.

The conditions themselves were anything but good. Those that had fallen ill were left here to die on the streets, their bodies feasted upon by the ravens and rats, the stench of decomposing bodies filling the air. A wave of righteous fury poured through him, making his blood boil. The sick. The poor. The damned and the dying. This was a living breathing hell and the Templars were the cause of this.

They spoke of order and innovation, but all he could see was chaos and destruction. He saw a man up ahead, rummaging through a pile of torn clothing, his top bare for all to see. Red deep lines ran down his back, all marks evident of being whipped. Rings of dark purplish shading with black outlines traced up and down his arms. Not a sign of disease, but an example in which a hot iron rod had been used.

"Boss, look! Templars up ahead!" Louis exclaimed, thrusting a finger forward.

Jacob followed the direction of the finger. He motioned for his men to hide behind whatever they could hide behind – broken wagons, stacks of clothing, or beggars – then ducked behind a wagon himself. He poked his head around the corner and watched. There were two Templars. One short and stout, the other lean and grey. The pair approached the man with the burn marks.

"You are dismissed from employment here, Thompson," the stout Templar said.

The lean Templar grabbed the man by his arms and dragged him to the centre of the pathway then kicked his back, then placed the same foot on his back, pinning his face down into the dirt. Thompson was too weak to fight back. "I'm still strong enough," he protested, turning his head to the side to speak. "I can still work!"

The short Templar crouched down. "Thomas Burke has dismissed you. You are no longer needed here. You are a liability to us."

"But my children-"

"Your children will remain with us, Thompson. Someone needs to move machinery." The two Templars laughed. "Children are cheap. They don't last as long, but they're cheap." The Templar kicked the man in the side. "On your feet. Leave. Do not return."

Thompson didn't move. A Templar sighed. He lifted the man up to his knees then pushed the back of his knees, prompting him to walk forward. Thompson hobbled forward, looking much like a drunken man trying to find his way through the night. "Honestly, these people are no better than vermin," the lean Templar said.

A high-pitched scream pierced the air. "Did you hear that? Looks like someone lost a hand again."

"Let's turn back. Someone has to cart these fools out of the factory."

The two Templars turned around and headed back from the direction they came from. Up ahead, he could the main factory, evident by the ash clouds rising up into the sky. He motioned for his men to come out from their hiding places. "Find a weapon, lads. Prepare yourselves for a fight."

The Rooks scurried around searching for anything that could be used as a weapon. A few of them huddled around the wagon then took turns breaking off wooden planks. Other Rooks refused to use weapons, opting to rely on their fists only. Perhaps yesterday's teaching had taught them something after all.

Evie was heading in through the back entrance. She'd hide in the shadows and kill anyone who came to close to her hiding spot. His job was to distract the main bulk of the Templar guards while she freed the workers. Thomas Burke was the next man to kill. He didn't know what the man looked like, but he'd find out soon enough.

Beggars and workers came out of their hiding places to watch them walk past. He could see the surprise in their eyes, and even a flicker of fear. They were not sure what to make of it – he could just imagine what they were thinking. Were they Templars? Bandits? Criminals? "This is your last day of working for these Templars," Jacob addressed them.

"But-but where will we go?" a young woman said, curious dark eyes looking at him. Her head was shaved. Another type of punishment it seemed. He also noticed that the fingers on her right hand were angled in bizarre directions. Dislocated fingers.

He called out to her. "You there, come forward." He beckoned her to come forth. She did, but with hesitance, as if afraid he was going to strike her. "Hold out your hand." Trembling, she did as asked. Following orders was all this woman knew. He held her arm steady with his right hand then covered her injured hand with his own. "This is going to hurt."

Her bottom lip quivered, but her eyes remained fixed on his face. Once he was certain she was prepared, he worked on putting her fingers back into place. Tears slipped down her dirty cheeks, her face contorting with pain. He popped another finger in place. She leaned forward, gripping his arm with her free one, clinging onto dear life. Another finger. She screamed again. Some of the residents started to move forward, but his Rooks held them back. They were concerned – and why wouldn't they be? The woman was in pain.

"There, it's done now. You'll be able to move your fingers freely again," Jacob said.

She didn't let go. Instead, she pressed her head against his chest, and cried some more. He held her for a few moments until the trembling stopped then gently pulled away from her. "What is your name?"

She glanced up. Her bottom lip was still trembling. "M-Mary," she said. "W-why did yo-you hel-help me?"

All eyes were fixed on him. Some residents took a few steps closer, whist others took a few steps back, unsure. The Rooks were outnumbered, but they held their ground. Jacob looked straight into her eyes. "Because no one else will," he said. "Your hand will still hurt. Don't place any pressure on it or you might find yourself being unable to use them again." He turned away from the girl and looked at some of the other people.

"Who are you?" a man said.

"I'm someone who has a job offer for you all," Jacob replied. "You'll be fed, you'll have warm beds to sleep on, and you'll be paid for your work. Work for me. Join the Rooks, and I can promise you a quality life free of slavery and menial labour."

The citizens chattered among each other. He caught snippets of the conversations – "Join the Rooks?" "But what will the Templars think?" "Isn't he the same guy who killed those Templars?" "Who cares about the bloody Templars! I'm joining the Rooks!" – and smirked. More recruits. More firepower.

"My name is Jacob Frye, and I promise to you that I will protect you from harm." He jerked his head at Louis and Charles, and beckoned them closer. "Take these people back to the Seven Bells. They'll need new clothes, quality food and a chance to bathe to rid themselves of this filth."

"Yes, boss!"

He turned to face the crowd again. "You'll be taken to the Seven Bells. You'll be safe there. Henry and Paul will look after you." The residents looked confused. He then realized these people had probably never even heard of the Seven Bells. The Templars wouldn't allow them to leave. "It's a tavern. You'll see for yourselves."

"Come on, people! Let's move!" Charles ordered.

Jacob watched the crowd move. They were so used to following orders that none of them protested. Mary was the last to walk away – she looked at Jacob, and mouthed the words, 'thank you' before Charles guided her away. Once the majority of people had cleared the streets, he turned to his remaining Rooks. "What do you lads say to crackin' some skulls?"

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The whirring sounds of machinery being used made it almost impossible to hear himself speak. He had to communicate to his Rooks by using hand gestures and signs. Fortunately, the Rooks were competent in understanding non-verbal communication and stopped outside the entrance. While the Rooks hid waiting for his signal, Jacob entered the factory, heading right towards the blast furnace machine.

The steel machine was a tall construct that almost reached the ceiling. It stood at approximately thirty metres high, and was lined with refractory firebricks to withstand high temperatures. Fire blasted into the furnace through the nozzles near its base. Children that looked to be no younger than four years pushed carts of coal and ore which were then unloaded onto the conveyor belt.

The children were covered in black smoke from head to toe, their clothes dirtied from the conditions within the factory. They were watched by a pair of Templars who were supervising the use of the furnace. One of them barked orders at the children, whilst the other stood aside, keeping watch for trouble. To the right of the machine, Jacob counted at least ten men working the pedals and the cogs. On the opposite, there were two children carrying shovels on standby to remove the smelted bars. The pair of boys didn't even look physically capable of holding the shovels correctly.

The Templars had their backs to him. Grunts and strained yells from the men filled the air as they operated the cogs and pedals. The children rushed forward with their shovels poking at the flames, trying to remove the smelted bars so they could be cooled with buckets of water. One of the children unloading coal onto the conveyer belt dropped to the floor, his tired legs unable to support his body. A Templar moved forward quickly, grabbed the boy by the collar and smacked him in the face.

"We do not tolerate laziness! You still have ten hours! Get on your feet or you'll be flogged!" he barked. The boy whimpered, and slowly climbed to his feet to resume work. Unimpressed, the Templar withdrew a whip, and smacked the ground with it, prompting the children to move faster. "Do you want to be paid this week? Pick up the pace or you'll receive nothing!" He smacked the ground again, making sure to strike the space directly behind their feet.

Jacob had enough. A bubbling pit of anger churned within his stomach. He moved into the clearing where the Templars could easily see him and whistled. Both Templars turned their heads. The one on the right, a man with a visible vertical scar on his right cheek, scowled. "You there! Get to work now!"

It would be so easy to stab them in the belly with his blade, but that would be a merciful kill. Even beating them to death with his fists wouldn't satisfy him. To even think of using children to carry out menial tasks that was well beyond their physical capabilities… It was something only a monster could think to do. He had a soft spot for children – unlike grown men, children could not defend themselves from harm. They were supposed to free and enjoying life, experimenting and learning, not being forced into an early grave.

The Templars rushed forward. He waited for them to attack first. The Templar with the scar attacked first, lashing out with his whip. Jacob brought out his revolver, aimed, and pulled the trigger, the bullet slamming into the man's forehead. The Templar dropped to the ground, blood spewing from the wound. The other Templar was unarmed. Jacob lunged, throwing his entire weight against the man, knocking him down on the floor below.

A brief struggled ensued. Jacob jabbed him in the nose, once again, and then a third time. He was awarded with the sound of bone being broken. Blood spilled out of the nostrils. Soon the Templar's chin and neck was covered in blood. Jacob punched him again. The man yowled in pain. Another punch. More screaming. Jacob rolled off him then jerked the man upwards onto his feet. He was aware he was being watched – the men and children were watching him, frozen in place, their eyes wide.

Jacob turned the Templar around and grabbed him by the collar. Blood now trailed down the man's neck, dying his white upper garments a dark red. He continued pushing him forward until he reached the furnace machine. "No! Please!" the Templar pleaded. "Have mercy!"

"Mercy?!" he growled back, tightening his grip on the collar. "Did you show mercy to these people here?!" He didn't even bother waiting for a response knowing all too well what the man's answer would be. He pushed him into furnace. Flames enveloped the body as the man's dying screams echoed throughout the walls of the factory. More Templars would come now.

He was about to address the workers when he heard a gunshot. He ducked, just in time for a bullet to fly past him. A second too late and he'd be the one on the ground with a bullet embedded in his forehead. Cursing, he dashed over to the conveyer belt. The workers remained in place, as if their feet were stuck to the ground. There was another gun shot. That was enough to spark some life back into the workers.

Chaos quickly followed. Whatever fear had paralysed their minds had now gone. Now they were free men. Some bolted for the exit; a few men looted the corpse of the Templar, whilst others ran around in blind circles. One man picked up the gun of the Templar and fired at the air. "Death to the masters!" he exclaimed. Before Jacob could stop them, the men hurried towards the northern part of the factory.

He climbed up the conveyer belt and made his way to the top of the large steel construct. From here, he had the best view of the factory and locations of other labourers. He spotted a group of men towards the eastern wall whipping disobedient workers, whilst to the west, a group of children facing some dangerous machines. The group of men he had just freed were now overturning carts of coal and ore.

The children needed saving first. He climbed down the construct then started heading towards the eastern corner. It wasn't long before he came to face with a few Templars. Both men had fresh blood splatters on their clothes, suggesting that someone had recently died. "Lost an arm inside the machine," the first one said, dusting off his clothes. "Tore the bloody thing off."

"That's what? The tenth man we've lost this week?" said his companion, a running a hand through his black locks of shaggy hair.

The first one shrugged. "Don't look at me. I'm not the one operating the machinery."

"We're running out of room to bury the dead," the second said. "Thomas reckons we should just throw the bodies on a pile and burn them. It's not like anyone is going to give a rat's ass about the poor. I say, I think-Who are you?"

"That's him! That's the one that's been causing trouble in the city centre! You take care of him – I'll find Thomas Burke!"

"What?"

The first Templar turned around and fled. "Looks like it's just you and me then," Jacob said curtly.

"You!" the man hissed. He charged, thrusting a knuckle forward. Jacob stepped to the side then kicked him in the right ribcage, causing him to stagger backwards. Before the man could regain his composure, Jacob shoved him up against the wall, hidden blade to the throat. "Let me go at once! I am a high-ranking Templar of the Blighters, and I-"

Jacob applied more pressure to his right hand, forcing the blade's sharp edge to cut into flesh. Skin parted, and red liquid seeped through the wound. The man's eyes widened, colour draining from his face. "Your position and name are meaningless to me. It's not going to matter at the end of the day."

"And yours is a name that will be forgotten in due time," the Templar hissed. "Do you not see what you've done here today? You are slowing progress – you want to turn the wheel back in time. You really believe that a victory here will give you the future you desire? The Assassins tried before and they failed. What makes you think things will be any different this time?"

For a man who had a knife pressed to his throat, he certainly was talkative. "This time, I'm here. That's why things will be different," he hissed. Just a few feet away, he spotted a chain up against the wall. An idea formed in his mind. He picked it up then wrapped it around the Templar's neck and created a knot. Once done, he started dragging the man along with him, back towards the furnace area. The Templar gasped and wheezed, hands beating at the chains, but they would not fall.

"You-will-pay-for-this," the man said in between gasps.

He ignored the Templar. "Rooks!" The Rooks stepped through the entrance. Wiping a brow, Jacob jerked his head at the Templar. "Make an example of this man. Hang him. Let this be an example that tyranny will no longer be accepted." He handed the chains over to a Rook then turned around again. "If you see a Templar, kill him."

"Yes, Mr. Frye!" The Rooks led the Templar away as if he were a dog on a leash. Once they were out of his sight, he ventured deeper into the factory.

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The dead littered the path. More than half the corpses showed signs of having received fatal injuries at work. Arms and legs were missing, fingernails had been pried off the hands, and some even had their teeth knocked out. Others had strange discolorations on their skins. The sight itself wasn't the worst – it was the smell of decaying corpses combined with the fumes and pollution of the factory.

The temperature climbed several degrees the closer the came to the backdoor entrance. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead. It was like being forced to sit in front of the fireplace for hours without a moment's respite. No wonder so many lives were cut short – many people died within the first year of work because of the tough conditions.

Children as young as five were hired to work to carry out the tasks the adults could not do. Their bodies were much smaller and that allowed them to climb inside machines to fix things an adult could not reach. Often these tasks resulted in death – something would always go wrong. Evie averted her gaze from the bodies.

Up ahead, she spotted the entrance Henry had told her about. There was an open door, but she preferred to take the better option and enter through the windows above. Fortunately, it was easy to access. Evie walked up to a window on the bottom level and climbed up. She jumped up to grab the ledge of another window just above then hoisted herself through the opening.

Now inside, she looked for a way to explore the factory without being seen. Visibility was limited inside. There were no openings in the roofs aside from the factory chimneys and the clouds blocked out the natural light, making it much darker than it should be. It worked to her advantage however – the shadows would allow her to blend in better with the environment and give her the element of surprise.

She looked the factory. A series of wooden beams extended across as far as the eye could see. Crouching, she lifted her arms to shoulder level and moved across the beam, taking one step at a time. Below, she could see pairs of Templars in different areas of the factory. There were two beneath her standing guard over a group of children. The two Templars were berating a child. One of them held a whip. Evie crept across the beam positioning herself directly above them both. Reaching a hand within her coat, she pulled out a couple of throwing knives.

The child now had his arms held out in front of him. One split second later, the child's arms were struck by a whip. He dropped to the ground, tortured cries echoing throughout the building, sending a cold shudder down her spine. Without wasting another second, Evie hurled the first of three knives at the Templar with the whip. The knife struck him directly in the centre of his head.

"What the-" He toppled forward and onto the ground.

His companion glanced up, hand immediately dropping to the gun at hanging on the side of his belt. He aimed up towards the rafters and fired blindly. Putting her knives back within their pocket in her coat, Evie activated her hidden blade and jumped down. The man was dead before he could even scream out a warning. Withdrawing the blade, she picked up her throwing knife then faced the children.

There were six children in total. They looked at her with curious eyes, unsure if she was friend or foe. "Everything is going to be ok," she said softly. The boy who had been whipped glanced up, tears streaming down his face. Her eyes moved down, examining his hands. This hadn't been the first time the boy had whipped.

His bottom lip quivered. "You not hurt me?"

"No, I'm here to help you."

Though he was in pain, he managed to spare a small smile. He moved forwards and threw his hands around her waist, pressing his head against her stomach, tears wetting her robes. The sudden show of affection took her by surprise and it took a few seconds to comprehend what was happening. When she settled, she reciprocated, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

The boy pulled away a few moments later. "Have you seen my parents?"

Evie shook her head. "No, but I will find them. Can you tell me where they went?"

He pointed to the opposite side of the factory. "Outside in village."

She relaxed. Her brother had come from that direction. He would've crossed paths with the child's mother. Unless the woman had died, she was most likely being escorted to the Seven Bells. "Your mother is fine. I will take you to her, but right now it isn't safe. I need you to remain here, all right? Stay in the shadows and don't bring attention to yourselves."

She prepared to walk away when the boy grabbed her coat. "I don't want you to leave." She saw fear in his eyes. The other children shared the same look, no wonder considering what they had just witnessed. "They'll find us. They always do and they beat us."

The Templars. Her expression darkened. "How many? Who leads them?"

Another child stepped forward. His ring finger was missing from his left hand. A stump covered in a dry casing of yellow pus was all that remained. The poor child hadn't even been given any material to cover it up, and most likely had contracted an infection. It was probably too late to save him. "Thomas Burke."

"What does he look like?"

The boy stretched his arms to the sides. "He's big, miss. Not round. Solid. Thick arms. Odd marking on his cheeks and forehead. Deep voice. Beady cruel eyes. Talks with his fists."

"I'll find him. Thank you."

"Are you going to kill him?"

She didn't nod or shake her head. "I will do what is right. Promise me you will stay in the shadows. Do not come of your hiding places until I return to collect you, all right?"

The boys all nodded. "All right."

Convinced, Evie turned her back. She wasn't sure if they trusted her fully, but she knew they would hide. Children were smart, and not as simple as many elder people assumed. She walked over to the fallen Templar bodies and dragged them into the shadows before climbing up to the rafters again. "Thomas Burke, where are you?" she murmured. The man should be easy to spot. Tattooed Templars weren't exactly a common sighting.

She crossed the beam until she reached its end. There, at the end, was another beam that could be reached by jumping. She rose to her feet, took a few steps back then took a running leap, safely landing on the other side. Again, she crouched. Crouching provided better balance and also made it harder for the enemies to spot her.

She continued jumping from beam to beam until she heard the sounds of fighting. Glancing below, she spotted a handful of workers quarrelling with a few Templars. A few men had fallen, sustaining gun wounds to the chest and head. Those that were still standing tried to overpower the guards, but they were vastly outmatched. Triggers were pulled, shots fired, and more men fell to the ground, painting the floor with red.

A Templar stood directly beneath her reloading his gun, leaving himself vulnerable for an attack. Triggering her hidden blade again, Evie dropped down from the beam, driving the blade through the juncture between neck and shoulder. She released him, pushed him aside then pulled out her throwing knives.

"Assassin!" The Templar raised his gun. She hurled her knife. The tip of the blade flew into his chest. Jaw dropping open, the Templar raised both hands to the knife in an attempt to pull out. She dashed forward and plunged her blade into his stomach. Yanking it out immediately, she hid behind the dying Templar, just in time to avoid a bullet. Blood spurted out of the man's mouth, splashing out on her robes and hands.

She yanked her throwing knife free and used the same one on the remaining Templar. He tried to evade the attack, but waited a second too late. Hands flew to his chest where the knife had struck. He uttered a curse then toppled forwards, landing face first on the ground, allowing the knife to sink in further. She hurried over, used her foot to flip him over onto his back then collected her knife.

"I'm looking for Thomas Burke," Evie said, addressing the remaining workers. The ragged group of men looked at her, awestruck. "Where can I find him?"

"We saw him earlier – he's fighting with the hooded guy."

So, Thomas Burke had found her brother… Or her brother had found him first. Naturally, he had chosen to involve himself in the fight rather than use the shadows to his advantage. "Find the children in the eastern of the factory then head to the Seven Bells tavern in the city central. You will be treated for your injuries there."

The men didn't hesitate. They sprinted past her. Now it was time to find her brother.

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Thomas Burke reminded him of the brutish thugs he had fought against in his early days of training. Big, dumb and slow. How odd it was for this man to be in the position of importance though he supposed all this fellow did was yell at people and threaten them with his fists. He was effective at it – he had to give the man some credit. His hits certainly packed a punch when they landed.

Jacob spat at the ground then wiped his mouth using the back of his left hand. When he pulled it away, he spotted flecks of blood. Burke's last punch had hit him in the nose. Not hard enough to have broken it, but enough to make to cause a nose bleed. The man's sheer bulk made it difficult to take him down – jabs to the stomach didn't seem to affect him too much.

Burke was also a good head taller than him. Hits to the face were harder to reach. It would be simple to kill the man with his hidden blade or gun, but his ego told him to fight the man with fists. He wanted to beat this man at his own game without the use of secondary weapons. Burke swung a fist. Jacob ducked and moved to the right, then countered, retaliating with his own punch.

Burke parried the blow, and brought a foot forward, driving his foot into his left knee. Biting back a curse, Jacob kicked back, attempting to hit his opponent below the belt. Burke rotated his body, avoiding the strike then swung his own, catching him behind his own legs. With a curse, Jacob fell down, back slamming the pavement. Burke dove on top of him before he could get up.

The Templar grabbed his shirt, lifted his head up slightly from the ground then crashed his head into his own. "No one fucks with my men but me," he snarled, spit flying out from his mouth. He drew back a fist and punched him in the nose. A river of blood gushed out, spilling down Jacob's chin and neck and onto his clothes.

Up above, he spotted movement on the rafters. It had to be Evie. He knew what she planning on doing – she was going to drop down and kill with the blade. However, he was out of position. There was no beam above him. He needed to lure Burke over beneath the beam his sister crouched on. First he had to force Burke off, and that was no easy task.

Raising his arms, he tucked his elbows in, and lifted them up slightly, so the elbows drove into Burke's legs. He then brought his knees up, pushing Burke forwards up past his head. Burke caught his balance by throwing both hands onto the ground, leaving him open to a counter attack. Jacob dropped his hips back down on the ground then reached up around Burke's right arm, capturing it on his chest. With Burke's right hand now off the ground, Jacob placed his right foot over Burke's own, locking his leg in place.

He lifted his hips up from the ground again, and mustered up his remaining energy, to force Burke over onto his back. He punched the man in the face. The man growled then thrust his hips up, using the same bridging technique. Jacob released, and rolled away, before the man could turn him back onto the ground. He crawled across the floor to where Evie was hiding when he felt Burke grab his leg. Using his free leg, he kicked the man in the arm, temporarily freeing himself.

It wasn't long before he found himself kissing the ground. Burke grabbed him by the back of his neck, brought his head back a little then slammed it down. "Fuck," he groaned. Burke might be just a brute in a fancy rank, but he certainly was putting up a good fight. Head swimming, and energy depleted, Jacob found it difficult to fight back. He spat again, mouth filled with blood from the nose, as he lay motionless, waiting for his sister to make her move.

"Death to those who oppose m-"

The sentence never finished. Burke's words became gurgled noises instead. He felt the man's bulk collapse on his back. Warm sticky blood seeped through his trench coat. Using the remainder of his strength, Jacob pushed himself up then rotated sideways, allowing Burke's corpse to slide off. Once Burke was off, he rolled over onto his back, drawing in deep breaths. Evie peered down at him, eyebrow raised.

"Cutting it a little close there, don't you think?" he snapped.

Evie extended a hand to him. "You could've done it yourself," she said calmly.

He took her hand and allowed her to pull him up. "You know me, I like a challenge."

"You are a mess." He spat at the floor again, then brought a hand to his nose and pinched it. Still bleeding. Evie shook her head. "Put your arm around my neck. I'm taking you home so you can clean yourself up."

"I'm fine, Evie." To prove his point, he moved forward, and stumbled, almost collapsing to the floor again. Fortunately, Evie was there to catch him. She grabbed his right arm and slung it around her neck to support his weight.

"Where are the Rooks?"

"Cleaning up the factory," he replied, giving her a lopsided smile. "Told them to save who they could whilst I kept Thomas busy. They should be back here soon." Right on cue, several Rooks returned, their clothes covered in blood. They were huffing and puffing, but at least they were alive. Several of them were grinning, their eyes alight. Other Rooks had several notes stashed in their pockets.

She called for two Rooks to come forth. "Take my brother home. There's still a few things I must do here."

He looked at her, a brow quirked. "Such as?"

"Patience, brother," she replied tonelessly. "You'll find out later."

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Thanks to tavern gossip, Evie learned that the Templar Lucy Thorne was hiding in the Tower of London. She waited until nightfall before setting out. The Rooks were fast asleep on the tavern floor, exhausted from the events at the Steelworks Factory. Her brother and Henry were both asleep in their rooms. Clara was also fast asleep, but Paul was still awake, busy cleaning up the mess in the bar. Evie slipped past him, as quiet as a cat. The darkness of the night kept her safe. Less people around to spot her and it was much easier to blend in with the environment.

It had taken her a short while to reach the Tower of London. With the streets so sparse at this time of night, it hadn't taken long as there were no crowds to navigate through. Using her rope launcher, she climbed up the side of the building and hopped through one an open window. No Templars around. No police officers either. At least, not yet.

Still, she didn't want to take any unnecessary risks and crouched. She remained closed to the eastern wall and slowly moved across, keeping her eyes open for any signs of the Templar Lucy Thorne. Who was she and why was she so interested in searching for the Pieces of Eden unlike the other Templars who sought to rule over London using gangs?

"…Patrol the corridor. What are we even doing here?"

"…Lucy Thorne said to patrol and we'd get paid for it."

"…But what are we even protecting? There Shroud isn't here!"

"…That's why we're here. She believes the item is hiding somewhere within this tower."

Evie poked her head around the corner and spotted two Templars walking past. Their backs were turned to her. Lucy Thorne was present and by the sounds of it, she had some information regarding the Pieces of Eden. The Shroud? She withdrew two throwing knives and crept up behind the two Templars. Both were oblivious to her presence.

"…So, what is it anyway? What does it do?"

"…They say it has the ability to resurrect people, but I call bullshit on that."

A Piece of Eden called the Shroud which could resurrect people? If that power fell into Templar hands… She didn't want to know what would happen. She stood up and plunged the two knives into the backs of the necks of the Templars then withdrew the blades. The two Templars dropped to the ground. She dragged the two bodies and stashed them in a corner behind a pillar before carrying on. No point in risking grabbing the attention of anymore Templars.

Now, which keep could Lucy be hiding in? She peered out a nearby window and looked outside. There were four keeps in total – one in each direction. Down below she spotted mass hordes of Templars patrolling the grounds. She lifted her gaze, focusing on the walkways to each of the keeps. There were patrolling units of Templars as well. More blood to be shed.

She stood motionless for a few moments, focusing her senses on her surroundings. At first there was silence then she heard a voice. It was a faint sound belonging to a female coming from the eastern keep. Reopening her eyes, Evie headed towards her destination, once again sticking close to the wall in a crouching position. She covered a few more metres until she reached the north eastern keep.

There she spotted a woman with black clothing and a feathered black hat standing before the window. Her orange reddish locks were tied up in a bun beneath the hat. Behind her, was a table with various pieces of documents stretched out across it.

"I had a feeling you would come," a woman said. "Show yourself, Assassin. I know you are there."

Evie straightened, and approached the woman with caution. One hand was within her coat, fingers brushed up against the hilt of a throwing knife. "Lucy Thorne."

Lucy turned around, a grim expression on her face. "You've come for the Shroud then. Don't look so surprised – when I heard of the Templar deaths, I knew your kind would come looking for me. I don't have the Piece of Eden, but that is precisely why I am here. Somewhere within this building there is information regarding its location."

"What do you know about it?"

The woman smiled, and glanced down at her nails, then looked back up again. "I am tempted to kill you, but perhaps it wouldn't hurt to tell you a few things. A corpse is of no threat. It's called the Shroud, and it's rumoured to have the power to resurrect the fallen. I can't say if this is true or not – legends have a funny way of exaggerating things – but I am keen to obtain it for the Order."

"That's why the Templars have come here to London then."

"It is also why the Assassins came here in search for the Piece of Eden. A decade ago the artefact was found at the first underground tunnel, but was lost in the conflict. The grand master found the Shroud and was murdered in the dark. One of your Assassins… What was his name again? Ah yes, Henry Green, the undercover agent. He assassinated the grand master for the Shroud then hid it away someplace where it could never be found. It sparked the conflict between the two sides as you know of it today."

Henry Green knew where the Shroud was? She frowned, troubled. Why hadn't he said anything? "You're lying."

"You people might think lowly of us, but we do not lie, girl. I have no reason to."

Questions raced through her mind. Henry Green, a double agent? No. That didn't feel right. She wasn't going to believe what a Templar had to say without hearing it herself from Henry. "The Blighters are a distraction then."

She laughed. "I don't care for the Blighters, girl. Bloody Nora and her lackeys can do what they want and play their childish games on the streets." She gave a dismissive snort. "I care little for their cause – my goal is to find this Piece of Eden and test to see if the rumours are true. Can you imagine what this could do for our Order if the Shroud's abilities are true? We would never truly die and thus our hold over London would never end." The woman dug a hand into her coat and pulled out a knife.

"We won't allow that to happen."

Lucy walked away from the window and moved to stand in front of the table. "Oh right, I've heard about the little games you are playing on the streets. It's adorable, really. Do you really think that a bunch of crooked thieves will ever take control of London? Would you entrust this city to fall under the iron fist of a criminal with no understanding of leadership? That is why our Order will always be above of yours – we see the bigger picture." Evie was silent. Lucy snorted. "I didn't think so. Everyone can lead… but not everyone is a true leader. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. I'm sure you've heard of that before."

"You're wrong about our people."

"And you're assumptions about our Order are wrong too. We could've made a fine alliance, but your people had to ruin the peace treaty all in the name of obtaining power for yourself. Who is the true evil here, I wonder?" A smile spread across her lips. "This conversation has been a delight, but it must end. You can't leave this place with that knowledge in your head."

Evie didn't waste a second. She threw her throwing knife. The knife struck its target. Lucy had only managed to take a few steps before she came to an abrupt stop. Glancing down at the knife in her chest, the woman gasped. Her knees buckled and gave way to the floor, her hands clutching at the knife. Evie knelt down besides her. "As long as I am still standing, this city will not fall under Templar control."