Venice, 1493

The tale, lost to the ages, began at the square near the Campanile di San Marco and the Basilica. A small crowd was gathering in front of the stage and in the pews where a young minstrel nervously stepped up. His name was Carmelo Fausti da Forli. This was his big night, his debut. Ever since childhood, it had been his dream to become a man of music. His father, and his grandfather before, had all been failed composers. Carmelo could not compose music well, but he made up for that detriment with a spectacular ability of playing the instrument. He likewise was a prodigy with an angelic voice. When he had come of age just a year prior, he had departed the dreary cloud-cast skies of home upon a boat towards beautiful Venezia.

All eyes were upon him. Carmelo, as he readied his lute, looked up towards the red tower. He wondered what it would feel like to be something perhaps like a mighty eagle soaring aloft to heights as great as that and beyond. If everything went right at this performance, perhaps he would be flying up to join that eagle. His benefactor, a trader called Duccio de Luca, was present in the crowd and had been very generous in funding Carmelo's enterprises. He supposed that he would have to be grateful for Duccio's donations, but there seemed to be something shifty about the man. As if de Luca had ulterior motives. No time to worry now. It was time to begin.

He moved his right hand and began to pluck at the strings on the lute. As notes flowed into tunes and harmonies, he opened his mouth and added a beatific watercourse of melodious librettos.

"There's a signora who's sure all that glitters is oro
And she's buying a scala to paradiso.
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a sc-"

"Stop this sciocchezze! I spend a year away from Italia in Spagna and this merda is what has overtaken beautiful Venezia?" Some strange man yelled out. The crowd, which had grown larger, parted to reveal a new arrival that Carmelo did not recognize. The man, with a thin beard visible, hid his head underneath a black hood. Draped around his shoulder was a blue cape, with a gold emblem and a black tip. His body was covered in shining metallic armor, his clothing alternating layers of red, black, and gray. The man was neither the tallest nor bulkiest in the crowd, but he emanated an authoritative aura as he stepped onto the stage with his black boots.

"Cursed minstrels, the great pubblico peste, allowed onto performing stages once populated by Italia's finest actors and performers? I, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, shall not stand for this!" But before the man could act, to Carmelo's relief, many in the crowd began to argue in defense of him.

"He is not ordinary street spazzatura minstrel! This one, Signore Auditore, has a certain fascino to him!" The crier cried out, who had been lured from his usual spot. "Let him play, for he is still young!"

"And why should I do that?"

"Just think of this as a favor for every time me and my fellow criers have taken your bribes and said nothing when you stole our money from us afterwards!"

"Fine." Ezio scowled and crossed his arms. He stepped back. Carmelo breathed a sign of relief, and started playing again. He decided to begin anew with a different song. He observed that even this Ezio had begun to slowly applaud as he played.

"Mamma, just killed a man,
Put a stiletto against his gola,
Moved my hand, now he's dead.
Mamma, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and t-"

He heard a shrill whistle somewhere in the crowd. All of sudden, there was the explosion of several smoke bombs all around the stage! The crowd screamed, and ran away in a frenzied panic.

"What demone's tradimento is this?" Carmelo demanded as his ruined performance began to dawn on him.

But Carmelo had already been forgotten, as the attention shifted. Numerous guards, dressed in the same purple as his benefactor Duccio, were rushing at Ezio with their weapons drawn. Calmly, Ezio lifted his arm and something fired from beneath his sleeves. One of the guards collapsed and as the others surrounded him, he unsheathed a sword.

And defeated them all. Then Ezio noticed something.

"Ah, Duccio. I should have known that you must have had something to do with this. Still sore about that time I beat you for cheating on dear Claudia WITH SIX DIFFERENT WOMEN AT ONCE?" Ezio began to advance towards Duccio stepping over numerous writhing or dead guards, who after witnessing his ambush go awry, was attempting to slip out unnoticed.

"Err… salute Ezio! Bello verdetti!" Duccio was sweating, his face a burning shade of red. "Um… I had nothing to do with this! I was… just in town… in between trips from Roma for… for riposo e relaxtion! Yes! Nothing suspicious here, Ezio! They are wearing purple like me, eh? Coincidence, I say! Nothing but coincidenze!" Duccio continued to step back, his eyes nervously darting all over as if he were looking for a quick route to escape.

"Duccio, you have exactly five secondi to convince me so. And two have just passed." Ezio showed Duccio the hidden blades, popping them in and out in rapid succession.

"Um… um… DIO MIO! THAT MINSTREL OVER THERE JUST INSULTED DEAR CLAUDIA AND MARIA!" Duccio frantically pointed, jumping up and down.

"Che cazzo?" Ezio snapped, whirling and glaring at Carmelo.

Duccio continued to jump up and down. "Yes! Yes! That's him! Signore Colpevole standing right in front of you! He called humble Claudia a bastardo puttana and poor Maria unfit to sleep even with the mangiest of cani!"

Ezio snarled and dove at Carmelo. "N-n-n-no! It's all a misunder-" Carmelo sputtered just as Ezio tackled him to the street. Duccio whistled a great chortle of relief, and as Ezio was busily punching Carmelo's face, he hopped to a box near the stage. Many of the onlookers who had been watching Carmelo's performances had donated a sum to the young musician. Duccio looked one last time towards Carmelo, who was being slammed against the walls of the Campanile by Ezio and then scooped all the earnings into his own pouch.

"Perfetto! I love it when a plan goes senza problemi!" Duccio laughed as he walked towards the port where his boat to Roma lay.

Ezio, meanwhile, continued to beat the minstrel and heard, saw none of this.

He could feel blood, scorching and caustic, flowing down the numerous cuts on his forehead. Some of it flowed into his cracked eyes, partially blinding Carmelo. His legs were a dead weight, devoid of all feeling. His right arm was dislocated, and spasms of extreme agony shot through his shoulder if he tried to move it. A crack shot through the Venetian air as a heavy boot stomped on his knee. Carmelo screamed. Another kick. He felt several ribs give way and flesh loosen itself. A slash of the man's wrist blades. More skin sliced from his chest. Why! Why! demanded Carmelo in his mind. Why was this happening to him?

"Puh… puhlease… signora… why are you doing this?" Carmelo looked up. Ezio held his lute in his hands. Carmelo's heart dropped.

"Signora…. I spent a years' worth of earnings on that lute. Crafting it… loving it… perfecting i-" With a thwack, Ezio swung the lute into Carmelo's head. He heard the wood creak and break as it connected with his bloodied face.

"That was for Claudia, my dear sister."

Ezio tossed the lute aside. It had splintered into a mess of strings and wood.

"And this is for my mother, you figlio di una cagna!" Ezio kicked Carmelo one last time. His foot connected with the poor boy's neck. Carmelo slumped. A paper, slightly stained blood and roughened, slipped from a torn pocket.

"What?" Ezio said as he opened it up and read it aloud. "Dear Ezio, you stupido stronzo, if you are reading this I thought you might want to know something. It was actually I who insulted Claudia and Maria while you were fighting the guards. And yes, I did hire them to kill you in castigo for your insults to the de Luca legacy. So all you did was let me get away richer and perhaps kill an innocent boy! Hah hah – sincerely, your amico Duccio de Luca. P.S. – give Claudia my regards, idioti incestuosi."

Ezio tossed the letter aside. He bent down in front of the motionless Carmelo, and felt the place where he had kicked the neck. A pulse… barely noticeable but there. Ezio breathed a sign of relief, and brushed his head.

"Phew… for a second there I was worried that I had rotto il Credo!" Ezio then looked down again at the catatonic Carmelo.

"Um… I don't really know what to say here. This is the first time anything like this has happened to me." Ezio guiltily said in a sheepish tone. He reached into his pouch. "Here… sorry for the mess. I hope this fixes things between the two of us." Ezio tossed a whole bunch of money along with a half-eaten apple onto Carmelo. His eyes darted around wildly, and he ran off hoping none of his fellows in the city like Rosa saw what had just happened.

Hours later, as the sun began to set. The sky of Venice turned brilliant crimson like falling fire. Gondolas began to make their way back to their moors, settle in for the coming of night sky. Gulls squawked, flying overhead. Ezio Auditore enjoyed a very nice bistecca dinner with his friends Rosa and Antonio and the complementing cups of imported French wine. Far away, in his Vatican fortress, Rodrigo Borgia sneered as he planted his thorns deep within the soil. Girolamo Savonarola in the southernmost district of Firenze smiled as he looked over the Apple and readied his entrance. There was laughter, the clanging of hammers in the blacksmiths, the haggling between an art merchant and a customer. Drunken sailors waltzed up and down the piers with two courtesans in their arms who sung the unruly seamen praises. A thief swiftly snatched fruit from a stall and was off before the dealer noticed. Another drunk, sense of orientation fragmented beyond repair, stumbled into the canals. And near the Campanile, Carmelo weakly lifted his eyes open. There was the clicking-clacking of heels coming towards him. Fireworks went off in his head, millions at once. His body felt like it was ready to fall apart at all seams. Every one of his teeth felt loose. He dare not move. Movement would only bring more pain. He had lost all control of his body, his arms and legs remaining limp on the ground. With his back slumped against the red wall. Why was there an apple and all these florin on him? The bastard must have put them after he had finished… he would get Ezio Carmelo swore… make him suffer as he did… Then thoughts turned to his lute and rage turned to grief. His livelihood was destroyed… it would take him forever to craft another lute that equaled that one! His eyes blinked as he weakly turned them towards the broken instrument. Why had this happened to him? He felt like crying for his mother for consolation, to the Father Son and Holy Ghost for fire of vengeance. Someone was walking towards him. With a groan, he forced all of his strength into looking upwards. Exerting himself beyond his feeble limits, he felt silky black hair drape onto his wounded face. His blood-filled eyes connected with eyes of brilliant amber before the blinking grew more rapid. He felt all strength leave him. Sorry father, he thought. Sorry I could not be the one that made our family proud. Before the world around him turned dark, he heard a woman say something to him.

"Don't worry, Carmelo. You're amongst friends now. And we will help you get your revenge." Laughter.

Then nothing.