The estate remained untouched, oblivious to the chaos engulfing Havana. The white stone walls gleamed in the midday sun, while armed guards patrolled near every archway and staircase, their weapons at the ready. The sharp crack of a pistol echoed in the courtyard. Then, another. Near the back of the garden stood Woodes Rogers, impassive yet animated, smoke billowing from the cannon he held. Beside him was Julien du Casse, who watched the shattered target, chuckling with amusement, as servants hurried to replace it, the gentlemen enjoying their shooting competition as a way to pass the time until they were summoned by Governor Laureano Torres. Just as Woodes was briefly showing off his weapon to Julien, he noticed the approach of the other expected visitors, prompting him to instantly hand the pistol to a nearby servant.

You, and Duncan Walpole, or rather, Edward Kenway, who wore the deceased's name like a borrowed coat, but it was something you and he kept secret. A deal, a con that had to be maintained until you got your hands on the bag of coins.

"Good morning, sir." He addressed Edward first, using a friendly tone, with a marked British accent. "Would I be correct in thinking you are Duncan Walpole?"

"I am indeed." Edward replied, confirming the false identity after giving you a sidelong glance. The two men shook hands.

"I thought so much. Woodes Rogers. A pleasure."

"The same."

Woodes then approached you, and maintaining the same cordiality, offered a smile.

"Excuse me... I don't think I remember your name, no offense intended, of course."