For Leonardo Florence had never been nondescript. It was a bouquet of fragrances, noises and faces. The smell of spoilt fish embraced the market in his stifling disgusting "hug" while the mixture of traders' and customers' voices didn't differentiate from hens' cluck. The magnificent cathedral at the central square could be called "The Eternal Mother of Florence". Lorenzo's devotedness to the city was obvious even to foreigners. A couple of new buildings, new fountains and some artistic studios had shaded the strokes of the New Times on its map.

In the long summer nights the wind whispered to the maestro with the tender seductive voice of Lucrezia. Winters brought memories of the coziness of "The Barking Dog" where he had spent great time with Verrocchio, Zo and Nico. Leonardo loved Florence in a specific way. He believed that it was his home, his inspiration and an enigma that he could never sort out.

This morning was awful. The sky was grey and covered with heavy gloomy clouds while the rain was hesitating whether to fall and clean these dusty streets or not. Everybody was busy with his own business as if no one cared about the Turks and Crusade.

When Leo woke up, he felt a bit dizzy. He hadn't been sleeping well for weeks and he felt tired. He was fed up with everything – the war machines, the designs and he even wished to give up searching for the Book of leaves. Honestly, this wasn't the first time in his life when he didn't want to be Da Vinci – the famous artist, architect and designer. He dreamed to be just Leonardo. He urged to travel, to explore, to enjoy the world with all his senses without thinking about The Sons of Mithras, the Labyrinth or Otranto. …

Leo, it's time to get up – Zo's words turned him back to the reality. Probably he was trying to make him wake up for more than half an hour.

Mhm – Leo muttered. The nagging headache in his head had decided to make his day unbearable.

Today he had to present some new models to the Florencian aristocrats – conservative old men that would hardly understand only a third of what he was explaining. Leo dressed reluctantly and now he was pacing nervously towards the palace accompanied by Zo, who was bringing his device in a box. His thoughts faded away again in order to avoid the increasing pain. The image of Lucrezia crossed his mind so his lips formed a smile unconsciously.

What were you smiling of? – Zo asked

Nothing – Leo briefly answered. He wasn't in mood for talking. Actually most of the time these days he had barely spoken a couple of sentences. His body was aching and he felt as if he was about to fall apart.

xxx

- Leo … Zo – Vanessa's cheerful voice welcomed them. - We are waiting for you.

- Maestro, are you ok? – Niko was asking something but his words didn't reach his mentor's mind. Everything had become excruciating by now - thinking, walking and even keeping his eyes open made Leo just want to leap from one of the palace's towers in order to stop this constant agony.

Da Vinci entered the hall, put his designs on the big incrusted table and began his speech.

- The memory of Otranto is painful. One of the children of Mother Italy was barbarously drawn from her hug! However, we can't just stay and mourn about what have happened! In our nature we all are warriors and our passion and bravery will show the Turks that Italian mothers have given birth of lions! My machines show that Italy is a state of innovations and development and ….

xxx

- Has he even slept recently? – Niko muttered to Zo

- He always lies that he is fine but he is exhausted.

- I think we must give him time to relax – Vanessa suggested with obvious concern in her voice.

- He won't allow himself to relax. – Niko and Zo said simultaneously.

- I AM FINE – they heard the artist's annoyed voice behind their backs. - I AM FINE.

- Leo – Vanessa started but she immediately felt that something was wrong.

The dashing figure of the blondie blurred in front of Da Vinci's sight. In a moment he felt the touch of the hazelnut skin of the Incan priestess who was whispering an Indian spell in his ear. Then it was Lucrezia whose sweet lips were only millimeters away from his.

Leo … Maestro … Leo – the anxious voices of Nico, Zo and Vanessa was the last thing that Leonardo heard before he collapsed into the abyss of fever and nightmares.

xxx

Otranto was almost the same as he remembered it. The Death and his retinue of starving curs had organized their terrific feast with the hundreds of dead bodies. The stink of decaying flesh hit the passerby, took him by the throat while the horror was absorbed by every skin pore.

Leonardo was walking slowly not only because he was constantly stumbling over lifeless bodies or actually what was left from them. Every girl was Vanessa. Every lad resembled Nico. The old man lying near the palace door had the white hair of Verrocchio. A woman, probably a young and charming one, was sitting on the ground – sobbing for her dead baby. Two dogs fought for its corpse so their severe continual growl was the only requiem of the martyrs of Otranto. The mother didn't even move when her infant turned into a bloody rag and its small limbs disappeared in the bigger dog's mouth. Then she looked straight into Da Vinci's eyes. Her own were blank and emotionless. Leo felt as if he had a lump in his throat. The designs he had spent on days and nights had made children orphans, parents childless … His mind feverishly sought for an excuse of what he had done but deeply in his heart he knew there wasn't an appropriate one.

Clapping of hands got him out of the trans.

Congratulations, Da Vinci! I'm so proud of you! – Al Rahim's voice made Leo turn back.

You stole my designs! – a wave of anger overwhelmed the artist.

Would you mind joining my walk? – The Turk calmly said as if both men were close friends that hadn't seen each other for very long time.

xxx

Zo was nervously pacing around while Vanessa was half-asleep, put her lovely head on Nico's shoulder.

I haven't seen such a fever before. – The Florentine doctor announced when he entered the room.

Zo looked at him.

How bad is he? – the question was so packed with anxiety that someone unfamiliar with the situation would come to the conclusion that Zo was asking about his own brother.

Is there any way we can help him? – Vanessa asked while she instinctively grasped Machiavelli's hand.

When they saw Leo, they were shocked. He was constantly shivering. His skin was as hot as a blacksmith's furnace. His lips were moving but no words came out. Maybe for the first time they realized that the great Da Vinci was merely a human and his body was so fragile.

Leo is a fighter – Nico whispered but even he wasn't so convinced that his mentor will survive.

The new mother of Florence put a hand on Leo's forehead.

I will be the first to stay with him. It is the least we can do. – she suggested.

xxx

The building was about to explode. The tank was coming. What? There was someone in front of the building.

Tell them stop! – Leonardo shouted at Al Rahim.

Watch carefully, Da Vinci! – The Turk ordered as if he was a father led his little son to a theater performance.

The artist looked carefully at the person over there. A woman. Such a familiar face.

Wait!

Leo's yell was drowned by the explosion. He wanted to run towards the ruined house. Towards the torn body of Lucrezia Donati.

Do you love her?

The calm voice of the Turk was in such a contrast with the smoke, the ruins …

No, she was just a good acquaintance - However, deeply in his heart the maestro knew that it was the most wrong answer.