In the room all was solemn and quiet. Incense burned on candlesticks in the corners, and important men from all around the world gathered to bid him farewell. He was an inventor, a painter, a scientist, an engineer, and a man of greater genius had never been known. The King of France himself was there, and highest-ranking members of the Church. The greatest painters and inventors of the time had gathered around.
But there was one man there who nobody recognized. Most could not remember he had been there at all, and those who could were doubtful of his appearance. He was dressed in white robes, with a hood to conceal his face, and stayed to the shadows, watching silently as the most important men of the age went to bid the great da Vinci farewell. When the French King bent over and inhaled the inventor's final breath, the room began to clear; they knew it was over. King Louis was the last to leave, a tear shining on his painted cheek, and the room was left in darkness.
But the man still remained in the corner. A long minute passed in silence; at last the old Assassin stepped into the center of the room and bent over the resting body. He left a kiss on Leonard's forehead, and then he vanished — the candles in the room went out in the swift breeze of the old Assassin's departure. And in the lingering smoke and silence of the room was a whispered phrase, borne by the air:
"Requiescat in pace, my brother."