"Unless a whole castle of people chose to lay down and die quietly in their beds, not likely," he says, gently.

Ezio gets up from the windowsill and comes over to looks. Not his first skeleton, not even his first like this, but it's the bedding that truly bothers him. If a body is left somewhere to rot, the weather washes the mess away. God takes the soul, and the earth takes the body.

"Bad luck, it would seem."

He goes to unlock the door.