One of the assassins, a tall and fairly intimidating woman, made her way towards their table and asked Connor, "So, where do you plan to sleep tonight?"

He looked extremely uncomfortable. "Ah... in my cabin... on my ship... "

Haytham sighed. "Son... "

She smiled and leaned closer. "Maybe I could join you there..."

Connor was blushing brick red. "Ah... I apologize... but I am on a mission right now... "

"Then perhaps after your mission is over... "

Connor looked like he thought he was about to be smothered by bosoms. "Ahhh... maybe? There are... others who might, ah, think they have a prior claim...."

Desmond made a funny strangled noise, and Haytham was having trouble breathing. She smiled at Desmond, and he shook his head quickly. "My heart is with a girl back home."

She nodded equably and laid a hand on Haytham's arm, which he gently removed. "You are very lovely, but as you can tell from my son here, I prefer a lady with, ah, a darker complexion."

Connor looked like he was about to explode from embarrassment, and once the woman left their table, he hissed angrily at his father, "What did you mean by that?!"

Haytham smiled sadly. "Exactly what I said. I do prefer a lady with a darker complexion, although she probably wouldn't have appreciated me referring to her as a lady." He took a long swig of Desmond's drink, and stared pensively at nothing. "Since I cannot be with her, I find that other women suffer by comparison." He finished Desmond's drink, and swiped Ted's, while asking, "And you, lad, missing a girl back home?"

"Yes, and when I get back, she'll still be dead so I'll still miss her."

"Ah. How ironic."

"I'm not like Connor, I can't tell girls to get in line."

"Yes, son, do tell me about all these women waiting for you."

Connor grumbled and ignored his father.

Ted woke up enough to stare blearily at them, then remembered his manners. "Let me show you to the guest house..." He beckoned them towards the manor, bringing them over to one wing that was offset a little, and had its own front entrance. "Here ya go...plenty of candles... beds should be fresh..." he yawned again. "We can fit your crew in--"

"No, my crew will return to the ship to sleep, as will I. However, my father and cousin are not seafaring folk and will appreciate a night on land."

"Whatever you wish, Brother."

In the end, Desmond and Haytham and Jimmy elected to spend the night at the guest house, and Connor returned to the Aquila, where he spent most of the night silently threatening the prisoner.

Desmond had a hard time getting to sleep, and then he was awakened far too early. "Psst!"

"Huhhhhh..."

"Wake up, before the sun rises."

"Them's fightin' words, Pops."

"Come here and look at the main wing. No, use your other sight."

"'S gold...why?"

"That's what I intend to find out."

"Have fun, Pops."

"Come on, now, if we hurry they won't even miss us."

Desmond groaned and allowed himself to be led to the main part of the manor. "Pops, you can't just go around breaking into--"

"Assassin hideouts? My father's houses? I assure you, lad, I have done both." Within a minute, he was clinging to the window sill, and Desmond had no choice but to follow him.

The window turned out to belong to a small storage room of some kind. Most of the stuff in it was useless--broken furniture, a barrel that had seen better decades, a little girl's dress that had ripped and was now thickly coated in dust. Haytham picked up the dress and reverently brushed the dust from it. Desmond wondered if those were tears in his eyes, or allergies. Then Haytham sneezed, and blew his nose into a handkerchief, and said in a businesslike tone, "This must have been Jenny's. She loves that shade of blue."

"That's it? You woke me up for this?"

"He has to have a secret hiding place here. Assassins love having secret hiding places."

Desmond yawned hugely. "What about behind that funny-looking wall?"

It turned out to be a loose board in the wall, behind which was a small compartment mostly filled with moldering paper. Much of the paper seemed to be half completed letters addressed "Dear Mum" and "Dearest Caroline", filled with crossed out sentences, little doodles, and the occasional curse word where the writer was apparently frustrated. There were two letters that had come, addressed to Edward Kenway, and carefully placed back in their envelopes after being read. Desmond shoved those into one of the pockets in Connor's coat.

When he heard a soft, pained sound, Desmond looked around for stray kittens, but found only Haytham, tightly gripping a small leatherbound journal. Desmond pried it from him to read the inscription on the frontispiece. "To my Father, on the Occasion of his Birthday. With Love, Jennifer Scott. 11 January 1722. Belated due to Storms." He flipped through it. "He never wrote in it... Wait..." he turned the book on its side. "He did! Look, it's near the spine. So you can't see it casually flipping through."

Both of them were engrossed in the little book, which seemed to be full of ciphers and codes, and did not notice the soft scuffing of Connor's moccasins until he spoke.

"You are on an island of your mortal enemies, Father, and this is what you chose to do? Lead Desmond into a life of burglary?"

"Hey, he didn't have to lead me very far."

"He is an adult and can make his own bad decisions."

"We are his family, we should provide a good example for him to follow. Do you ever stop to think about what sort of impression--"

"Hold on, son--"

"Yeah, calm yo' hippy tits, Connor!"

Both of his ancestors stopped mid-argument and gawped at Desmond. Connor mouthed "hippy tits" in shock, before hesitantly asking, "Father, you have spoken English your entire life. Perhaps you can help me. I know the words but the phrase dumbfounds me. Is there some special meaning to those words that I simply do not know?"

"No, son, there isn't, other than that our descendant is occasionally mad."

"I just meant you should stop interrupting your dad... Maybe bicker a little less?"

Connor crossed his arms, annoyed. "He should not be encouraging you to steal--"

"Connor, about half this stuff is ours. Or, our family's." Haytham brandished the little book. "This was a birthday gift for my father. The dress was my sister's. These half finished letters? My father was writing to his parents and his wife. He may have given this island, this house, to the Assassins, but the personal effects? The only Assassins with any right to keep them are in this room with me. So how is it stealing if it's ours?"

"That's an interesting kind of morality, Templar."

Desmond scooted in between Ted's pistol and Haytham, and to his surprise, so did Connor. With a sigh, Ted lowered the gun an inch or two. "I don't know why you two are protecting him. You know he's a Templar."

"That does not mean he is not correct about his father's belongings. Even a Templar has a right to inherit things of sentimental importance."

"He can't have that little book. There's important information that can't--"

Haytham handed it to Connor. "There, now it is in Assassin hands. As everything I own will be anyway once Connor inherits it from me."

Ted waved the pistol, just a bit. "That should be pretty soon. Hands up, Templar."

Haytham sighed and held up his hands. "This is ridiculous. I'm not attacking you or spying on you, I just wanted some family heirlooms."

Ted scoffed. "How am I supposed to believe that, once you leave, you won't go telling all your Templar friends how to get here?"

"Maybe because I don't particularly want another of my family's houses set on fire?"

Connor interrupted, "He is assisting me with tracking down another Templar."

"How can you trust that he's not leading you into a trap?"

Haytham snapped indignantly, "I'm not leading my son into a trap! What kind of man do you think I am, anyway?"

"A Templar who wiped out much of the Colonial Brotherhood."

"But not my son!"

"Whatever you say, Templar. Now come on, no more guest house for you, time for the cells in the basement."

Haytham rolled his eyes. "I don't believe in ghosts, but I almost wish I could think that my father's spirit would annoy the shit out of you for using his basement to imprison his own son."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure he'd be so proud of his son the Grand Master Templar. And you two, don't even think of trying to spring him. There's going to be at least four Assassin guards on him at all times."

Connor glowered. "How am I to believe that your guards will not 'accidentally' kill my father?"

Desmond chimed in, "Which would allow the really awful Templar Benjamin Church to get away with being a total scuzzbucket."

Ted just snorted. He looked awful--haggard and tired, with red eyes and sagging eyelids. Desmond wondered if it would be possible to reason with him once he got over his hangover.

Haytham rolled his eyes. "Connor, Desmond, please, don't make a big fuss. I'm sure that someone here is reasonable."

Desmond shook his head. "I'm not."

Connor asked quietly, "Not sure or not reasonable?"

"Good question."

Haytham smirked as Ted pushed him between the shoulder blades. "What would my father say if he knew his old girlfriend's son was taking me prisoner?"

"He'd say you deserve it, Templar."

"You know, I do have a name. Three of them, in fact."

"I don't care, Templar."

"I daresay one of mine is the same as yours, in fact."

"Doesn't matter. Keep walking."

"Because Ted is short for Edward, correct?"

"None of your business."

"And my middle name is Edward. In fact, I suspect we're named after the same person."

"Unfortunately."

"Did your mother name all her children after her old boyfriends? Did your father know?"

"It's none of your business."

"I mean, I would suspect you were my brother, but you're too young."

"I am no brother of yours."

"Maybe we have a sibling in common."

"Would you be so kind as to shut up already?"

Connor almost felt sorry for Ted, but not quite. He heard a sound and reached out just in time to grab Jimmy as he ran screaming after Haytham. "Shhh, I need you to stay here with Desmond, please. I am going to follow them and ensure they do not harm my father, but I also need you to keep Desmond safe."

"I can take care of--"

"If he starts speaking in strange tongues, you must keep him from doing anything foolish to hurt himself."

Jimmy looked up at Desmond protectively, and grabbed him by the wrist. Desmond rolled his eyes at Connor, who smiled just perceptibly and extended the tip of his hidden blade, then looked at his father's retreating back, and back at Desmond, and raised his eyebrows. They didn't take his blade?? Epic fail...