Firenze
1457
Mario Auditore knew his mission had gone to hell the instant the guards in the next room all went silent. Back wedged tightly against the cold stone of the hallway, hand on the hilt of his sword, the Assassin let out a quiet curse. There was never a good reason for every guard to go quiet all at once. Not unless they knew someone was there.
Mario could not stay. The guards in the next room had begun talking again in low, hurried voices. He heard tables being overturned – bookcases and chairs pushed aside. He heard glass shatter and risked a quick peek around the corner. A lamp had toppled over. Mario counted eight guards searching the large, elaborate chamber, none of them bothering to clean up the mess. He took a deep breath, counting off the beats of his heart. Uno...due...tre... He wouldn't have a better chance. Mario drew back from the wall, silently cursing his poor luck. He's been in the Maberti Palazzo for three hours, an unheard of amount of time for a single mission. But this particular job was different in other ways, as well. He was expected not to kill Signore Maberti, but to extract him. Someone higher up the chain then he wanted access to him, alive.
Mario didn't like it, but even though he worked for the Order under his own independence, rather than under il Medici o il Giocoponello families, there were others he owed favors to. And if there was any man who took a favor seriously, it was Mario Auditore. Especially when the man who had asked for the favor has saved his assino a time or two.
Amato, you old bastardo, Mario thought, affectionately of the older man. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were losing your touch.
All Mario knew about this nobleman, this Folco Maberti, was that he was an established Templar. And that had been good enough for him. Until the shit hit the fan, of course.
Mario could hear the voices getting closer. He slipped around the corner just as several guards made their way into the hallway he had occupied seconds before. The Assassin found himself facing a second long corridor. He checked the door on the right. Locked. Merda. He tried the one on the left. Also locked. The voices were louder now, and Mario was still out in the open. He broke into a jog. There was a window at the end of the hallway. He could make it there – and jump – and this whole mess would be behind him.
Until he returned later, of course, to finish the job.
"Hey! Ritornare qui!" He heard angry voices yelling from behind him and quickened his pace.
"The Assassino!" Another voice snarled. Fifteen paces to go. Mario put on an extra burst of speed. Running had never been his strong point. He wasn't as quick and light on his feet as his younger brother was. But Mario had one advantage – his strength. If he didn't make it to the window, plan B was to try fighting them off.
Si, fighting. Against at least eight heavily-armed militia, Mario thought wryly. Likely more, now. But he didn't dare risk looking back over his shoulder to find out.
Six paces, now. Mario tensed to jump when a larger, heavier form crashed into him from the right side. The Assassin gave a very loud and indignant, 'oaf!', hitting the opposite wall before landing on his back. His dark gray hood fell from his face. Immediately the heavily-armored brute who had charged him reached for his axe. Mario has seconds – milliseconds, even. With no time to reach for his own sword, he extended his hidden blade. He heard the soft, reassuring snick the blade made when it unsheathed itself from his bracer. The guard stepped forward, raising his axe. As he leaned forward to smash it down onto the exposed head of the Assassin, Mario kicked up both feet, his heels smashing into the guard's ribcage. At the same time he jutted his hidden blade forward, piercing through a gap in the man's breastplate. Sticky blood splattered the Assassin as the guard fell forward, dropping his axe in the process. The weapon he carried fell and embedded itself into the wooden floor, a mere three inches from the Assassin's head. Mario took the opportunity to kick him forward, launching him through the air. Completing his somersault, the brute crashed through the window Mario had been desperately been trying to make his escape through. Everyone heard the sounds of the guard's screams as he plummeted four stories to the waiting cobblestone below.
Mario never heard the sickening thud that spelled out the poor sap's demise, however. Instantly, four more guards were on top of him. Hidden blade slicing wickedly through the air, Mario managed to take out three more guards, but more just continued to pile in. He had no chance of winning this fight, but it wasn't like the Assassin to back down. In death, he'd go out fighting.
Fortunately for him, that didn't seem to be the case. Just as one guard was preparing to give the final killing blow, a new and unexpected voice spoke up from the shadows.
"Fermata! Do not kill him…" Mario struggled to crane his neck upward, catching sight of…how could it be possible? A very pale, very slender woman in an elegant emerald-green frock strode forward. She fixed Mario with a confident stare and a sly smile.
"Am I not who you were expecting, Assassino?" She couldn't keep the contempt from her voice. "I'm sure you know me as… Signore Folco Maberti." A cool smirk graced her narrow lips. "Most do."
Mario quickly got a hold of himself. This changed nothing. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to kill Templar women, although he preferred to avoid it as much as possible. Killing in general was something he was very careful never to take pride in. Bringing peace to Italia, however, did. That, he was never ashamed to admit.
Now he gave a smirk of his own, despite the pain in his shoulders where the armored gloves of the palazzo's guard were digging in.
"So you hide behind an empty name, Signora. Somehow, this does not surprise me."
It was a small comment, made in an off-handed way. But it was enough. The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, her sleek brow furrowing.
"And tell me, Assassin: what do you mean by that?"
Mario shrugged – again, despite the deep-seated ache spreading throughout his shoulders. Her eyes narrowed further.
"Assassino." She spat. "Always so confident. So sure of yourself. Did you ever even once stop to think why you were sent after me? Or did you just blindly orders, like the groveling dog that you are?" She sniffed, waving her hand to her sentries.
"Guards! Make sure our prisoner is made comfortable. We want him to be well rested for his execution, in three days time."
Execution. That wiped the smirk off Mario's face. Of course, every assassin faced the possibility of death. He had been prepared for it himself just moments ago, and he'd have died without any true regrets. But somehow, execution never really factored its way into the equation. Rarely did assassins meet death in such a manner. The last thing Mario wanted to face was the humiliation of a public execution, held at the gallows, or perhaps right outside the cathedral of Santa Maria, itself. He cursed and struggled, but the guards were ready for any such protest, and quickly forced the assassin onto his stomach, arms yanked hard behind his back. Mario felt his bracer being wrenched off his forearm, and his robes being searched for any other such weapons. And they were damned thorough – even the two short daggers tucked carefully alongside each boot were quickly found and confiscated.
The Assassin's wrists were then tightly manacled together. He reluctantly ceased his struggles. Better to bide his time and wait for the opportunity to escape, then risk his captors losing their patience and finishing him off right there without a second thought, despite orders. The guard behind him gave Mario a hard shove, and together the group lead him from the hallway back to the chamber they'd originally began searching for him in. Mario found himself looking for the pale woman, but she had left her private Watch to deal with her intruder. Mario decided to take the time to study his surroundings, as the guards took him from chamber to chamber. He had seen surprisingly little of the place in the three hours he'd already spend there. Already he suspected it went down far deeper than the average nobleman's palazzo. Indeed, the small contingency forced him down a winding staircase that seemed to go for miles. Mario knew they had been on the uppermost story, but on the way back down he counted off up to seven stories total, meaning that just over half the palazzo stood above ground. He couldn't help but be awed, despite the dire situation. Sure, his family's Tuscan villa was loaded with secret chambers and hidden, underground hallways, but it was nothing compared to this marvel of modern engineering.
"Keep moving, dog." The guard behind him grumbled, giving Mario a particularly hard shove. Mario frowned, raising his chin.
"Va bene, Signore. But unless you prefer for me to impale myself, might I suggest you resist the urge to push me further." He arched his brow, nodding his head in the direction of the guard in front of him, whose own bladed rapier pointed almost directly at the assassin. The guard snorted and rolled his eyes, but clamped his mouth shut and said nothing more.
It did not take much longer for them to arrive in what Mario had the sneaking suspicion was the palazzo's dungeon. Multiple cells lined the damp, mold-covered walls, the stench from which was over-powering. The entire room – which was considerably large – was cloaked in dim, muted lighting, almost enough to hide the chains that were attached to the walls, as well as the various torture devices set off to the side. Mario swallowed hard, feeling his mouth go dry.
"As impressive as all of this is, I cannot help but notice that the décor is not exactly up to the same standard as the upst- " He was interrupted when one of the guards roughly shoved him into the nearest cell, slamming the door shut behind him. Mario had to pull his foot out of the way just in time to avoid it being crushed between the metal.
"Oh. Si. Thank you for taking my concerns so personally." He muttered, glancing over his shoulder as he watched them leave. The Assassin sighed, wrinkling his nose from the God-awful stench.
What, exactly, was he going to do now?
The steady drip, drip of water wasn't the only reason the Assassin wasn't going to find sleep, that night. He sat against the bars of the cell, too disgusted by the mold clinging to the damn stone to sit anywhere near the actual wall. The cold metal bars did nothing for his back, and his arms were beginning to ache from lack of proper circulation, but Mario had other issues on his mind to worry about then lack of sleep and comfort.
By his best guess, it had been eight – maybe ten – hours since his imprisonment, and there had been no sign of the pale woman or her guards. He'd been left in the dank, stench-filled dungeon to await his execution. Mario supposed he'd be there the full three days – what else would they do with him until then? Mario forced the thought of torture from his mind. They would have begun that, already…wouldn't they? Mario began to doubt his own reassurances. They could choose to keep him waiting, sweating it out, growing increasingly nervous…
…if that's what they are planning, you are playing right into their hands, idiota, Mario rebuked himself sternly. He shook his head, as if to force such dark thoughts from his mind, before taking a deep breath. He should close his eyes…try to get at least a little rest… it would do him a world of good. His growling stomach interrupted his plans. Mario opened his eyes and sighed.
There would be no sleep for him, that night.
The Assassin was shifting against the bars, trying to get into a vaguely more comfortable position, when a loud clattering sounded from across the room. He leaned forward onto his knees, slowly rising to his feet as a group of armored guards seemed to materialize from the inky blackness. He watched wordlessly as they unlocked the door to his cell, and three of them moved inside to grab him. Mario let them manhandle him out, and lead him across the dungeon. He didn't dare allow them to see how relieved he was when they passed by the various instruments of torture.
"Are we going somewhere of any particular importance?" Mario asked as they forced him back up the narrow stairs they had come down hours earlier. He received a sharp push in response.
"What does it matter to you?" One guard growled, showing a cringe-worthy gap in his teeth as he curled his lip. Mario grimaced, giving a lax shrug of his shoulders.
"I thought perhaps I could dress a little more formally, to fit the occasion. I feel a bit out of place, as it is."
"Chiudere su." The guard retorted hotly. "Don't say another word, dog."
"…especially seeing as the lady of the palazzo looks so regal." Mario continued, blatantly ignoring the warning. "Not like you guys, of course. Speaking of dogs, you'd think the least she could do is throw you a bone every once in a - "
"Silenzio!" The guard snarled, giving the prisoner a hard cuff to the head. Mario stumbled from the blow but regained his balance.
"Bene, bene…" He sighed, falling into a reluctant silence. They arrived at the top of the stairs, where the woman herself had been waiting for them.
"What took you so long, Ilario?" She snapped to her private guard. One stepped forward, and Mario took for him to be the captain. Ilario, then. Good to know.
"My most humble apologies, Signora. This… figlio di puttana enjoys wasting our time."
"Then do not let him." She snapped. "We do not want to be late." She regarded the Assassin smugly. "…not when we're bringing the guest of honor." Mario met her eyes and she turned on abruptly her heel, waggling her fingers.
"Speechless, Assassino? Come. We will see how brave you are when faced with your own death sentence."
Ah, so it is morning. The sudden bright sunlight hit Mario's eyes so hard his head swam. The men didn't give him a moment to adjust; they shoved him along the cobblestone path. Mario shifted his hands, tugging vaguely at the manacles.
"And here I thought I had two more days." He remarked off-handedly.
"Saccente." One of them responded with a growl. "Shut up, wise-ass or I'll - "
"Save your breath." Ilario responded from the front, sounding bored. "You are threatening a dead man. We'll be rid of the scum-ridden dog soon enough."
Mario studied the man's portly figure. "I take it you are Il Capitano?"
The man snorted but said nothing. Mario continued.
"I only ask because I imagined you were taller."
A thin growl escaped the man's mouth, but he still said nothing. Up ahead, The Signora quickened her pace. "Faster!" She snapped. "I want him out there before the noon market rush arrives."
Mario soon found out where they were taking him and why. They arrived at the plaza just outside Santa Maria, which faced the markets to the south. There the guards pushed him roughly to his knees before chaining him to a stake buried deep into the earth. Mario winced at the sun in his eyes and tilted his head to avoid it as best he could. A fly buzzed around his ear and he jerked his head in irritation. The Signora stood in front of him, amused.
"I am not stupid, Assassin, although you no doubt believe I am. I know how little torture has worked on your kind in the past. Defiant to the end, even if it means death… It's a pity, really." She set her strapped heel on the Assassin's leg, digging the sharp end into the flesh of his knee. Mario leaned back and turned his head away, determined not to let her see him grimace in pain.
The Signora laughed at his clear discomfort.
"Thankfully, you have nothing I want. No information I desire – no locations to hidden treasures I care about. All I want is for your death to come about slowly. Painfully. Regretfully." She gave one last firm push before removing her foot from the aching joint. "And with your unfortunate humiliation in full view of Firenze. We will see what the people think of the Assassins," she spit out the word as if it had tasted poorly in her mouth, "once they see how weak you truly are." She turned away from Mario.
"Ilario! Keep a close eye on him. I want no fewer than five of your men here at any given time. He has friends about the city. Bring him back to me just before nightfall. He will be executed at midday tomorrow." She abruptly left amidst their ayes and firm nods of confirmation.
Now Mario knew why they had wanted to get him there before midday, for it was at that time that the sun was at its peak, and the markets were at their busiest. It did not take long for a curious crowd to quickly gather. The sun beat down unmercifully on the bound Assassin. In less than an hour perspiration had formed all over Mario's face, and his clothes and hair alike were matted against his skin. His stomach growled with abandon, soon leading to the worst hunger pains Mario had ever experienced, including when he was in training and had to forage for himself off the land for days at a time. The guards were in no position to make hardship easier to Mario to bear – they laughed and ate as much as the pleased, throwing their scraps to the ground at Mario's knees, knowing full well the Assassin was unable to reach them. Not that Mario would have allowed himself to behave like the dog they called him. The Assassin had far too much pride for that.
Late in the day, as the guards appeared distracted with their dinner of roasted chicken and ale, a woman wrapped in a pale cream-colored cloak approached the greatly weakened man. She knelt down to his height, offering a cup of lukewarm water to his dry, cracked lips.
"Here. Drink." She whispered, tilting to cup to aid him. "Quickly."
Mario leaned ever so slightly forward and bent his neck. He took a short ship, then a deeper drink. For a moment, he truly believed he'd never tasted anything so good in his life. The woman continued to speak, knowing she didn't have much time before the guards noticed.
"Keep faith, Mario. My husband will come for you, shortly." Mario raised his eyes, his face flushed red and pink from the intense heat. They met her concerned, caring brown ones.
Maria.
"Your brother will – "
"Hey, you! Di nuovo lontano! Get away from him!" One of the guards had no qualms against shoving a woman away from his captive. Maria quickly hid her face, stumbling to her feet. She hurried off without another word, but she had already said all she needed to. Mario felt a faint surge of hope in his chest.
Maria had taken a huge risk – if anyone made her out to be the wife of the town's wealthiest banker, having pity on some poor condemned criminal, there would be rioting on Giovanni's doorstep. Mario may not approve of his younger brother's decision to move to Firenze and work under a political tyrant like Lorenzo de Medici, but there was no one in the world that he trusted more than Giovanni.
His brother Giovanni was somewhere. Perhaps nearby. He'd make sure Mario didn't hang…
…he hoped.
"Get up." Mario stirred awake, feeling a sharp kick to his legs. He gave a low groan, and felt his body jerked up.
"Walk!" One of the guards hissed at him. "Move your legs!"
"What… che ora è?..."
"Almost nightfall." The same guard snapped, hefting the weakened Assassin to his feet. "And you are due back at il Signora's palazzo. Now walk."
Mario tried to, but his feet barely held any weight. He fell heavily against the guards, who half dragged, half carried him off in the direction of the palazzo.
The sun was indeed just beginning to set over Santa Maria and the courtyard. The air was much cooler than it had been earlier in the day. Mario breathed it in, knowing he had to savor it while it lasted. The last he remembered, Maria had been there…and then he was being jolted awake.
He had to have been out for hours. The heat had been so intense… Scorching. His head rolled back and he closed his eyes, enjoying the cooler evening air. He barely felt them move him from the courtyard back to the palazzo.
"I hope you enjoyed your day." The Signora told him upon reaching the palazzo, voice smug. Mario blinked his eyes. His wrists were free for the first time in two days. He found himself forced down to his knees in front of her, two guards at his sides. He stared down at the floor, wavering in place. The Signore traded a sly smile with Ilario.
"I would rather my prisoner not mysteriously vanish during the night, which is why I've requested you bring him back to me." She knelt, raising the Assassin's chin. She smiled sweetly. "Such a good boy… It's a shame it will be your last evening." She mused thoughtfully.
"Leave us!" She ordered to her guards. They glanced at each other, then bowed respectively to their employer and reluctantly too their leave.
Mario shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. He jerked back, glaring at the woman through the matted hair hanging down over his face.
"Get the hell away from me…"
Her expression tightened, and Mario received a harsh backhand across the face. The slender woman was stronger then she looked – or maybe Mario himself just in that poor a shape. The force was hard enough to level him. He grunted, his chin hitting the floor hard. He tasted blood in his mouth.
"Assassin." She spit at his prone form before stepping over him on her way out. "Always have to be so damn stubborn."
"What happened to Signore Maberti?" Mario asked hoarsely, coughing spats of blood onto the floor. He slowly raised himself up off the marble. "Did you kill him? Or was there even ever one?" He sat back on his knees, wobbling, and fixed the Signora with as cool indifference as he could manage.
"Is that what you do?" He breathed, as the Signora knelt back down to his height, leaning in close, her eyes threatening. "You murder your own? Was it for wealth or for power? It wouldn't be the first time a Templar has killed to preserve his…or her…status." He held his breath as she fingered his hair. Every word she spoke was icy and deliberate.
"I have not murdered my husband, Assassin." She smiled, but there was no warmth. "I have murdered my seven husbands." She cupped his chin, taking enjoyment in his stunned reaction.
"Signore Rolfo Falcone was the first. He was slain in our bed when he discovered my affiliation with the Templars and, shall we say, didn't approve." She squeezed, giving his jaw a firm shake. "Then there was Elifio Panebianco, Constanzo and Bartolo Olofri; they were brothers, of course." She tapped her finger against his chin, smirking cruelly. "Tibaldo Janne, although his death had nothing to do with my occupation, and everything to do with his wallet. The Templars needed funding, and I was more than happy to oblige."
She kissed the Assassin's forehead, than stood up. She turned away, folding her arms over her chest.
"Then there was Terzo Patrizi… I have to wonder if you recognize the name."
"He was an Assassin?" Mario growled, nearly trembling with anger. The Signora turned abruptly, than laughed.
"Si! Very good." She marveled. "He was the only one of my husbands that I truly admired. He was a brave man. Fearless, even. Passionate." She sighed, running the tip of her finger along the length of her ring finger. Mario spotted a glint of metal.
"Until you discovered he was an Assassin." He spat, lip curling. "And you had him slaughtered."
She sighed. "I had him poisoned. But that is not what killed him. I only needed him subdued."
"What. Did. You do….?"
She heaved another sigh, dropping her hands. "I strangled him. Myself. With the shawl he'd gifted me with on our six-month anniversary."
Mario shook with rage, watching the Signora – this psychotic prima donna – spin her tale. Watching her play the part of the poor, abused widow, when in fact she was nothing short of an Annerire la Vedova. A Black Widow.
"…and the others?..." He managed to ask, when he found his voice.
"Gioele Nappi. And Calanico Epifano. Both whose money went to serve a… higher purpose." She gave Mario that same wicked smile, and Mario imagined her leaning over her slaughtered husbands, leering at them the exact same way. He couldn't suppress the shiver that forced its way down his spine.
"And…what is your name?"
"My name…my true name… is Adria Patrizi."
Mario swallowed hard. "But then you…were…"
Again, that same emotionless smile. "Terzo was my brother, Assassin." She pursed her lips together. "Although to his credit, he entirely clueless as to who I really was. As far as he knew, his sister had died as a young child. A tragic accident."
"The Templars…" Mario felt truly sick to his stomach.
"They kidnapped me from my family, only to raise me amongst my true family. A family that taught me the way of the Templar Order. The way to God."
"You were brainwashed!" Mario's mouth felt so dry he could barely form words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And now you kill for no more than a handful of florins!" For his trouble he received a second backhand, one that left him dazed and on his back. A dribble of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. Adria hummed softly to herself, leaning over him.
"I have only told you this because I do, in fact, take pity on you. It is unfortunate that you will die before you inform anyone of any of this." She made her way to the closed door and opened it.
"Ilario. Escort him back to the dungeon. We return to the plaza at dawn tomorrow. Let him spend a few more hours in the sun." She paused, eyeing Mario thoughtfully. "The deed will be done at noon, like we planned." The Captain nodded, and his men hauled the stunned Assassin to his feet, tightly grasping his arms.
"And…if he says anything at all concerning me or the Templars…disregard his remarks." Another thin-lipped smile. "I'm afraid he had become delusional." The guards nodded, and Ilario tipped his helmet to the Signora.
"Si, Signora. Certo."
"Bene. But…just one moment." She went over to Mario, cupping his chin once more and tilting his head, speaking softly in his ear.
"I said that I have killed seven husbands, Assassin… but I have been married eight times." She looked him in the eyes, than placed a very purposeful kiss on his cheek. "This one might even last… I have no plans to murder your Templar friend, the dear Amato Greco."
Mario spent what was left of his second sleepless night back in the dungeon, hands chained once more. This time he lay on the floor, limp from exhaustion. The Signora's – Adria's – words rattled around in his head, twisting his mind into knots and churning his gut.
Adria. Kidnapped from her family and programmed into the radical Templar ideology. Married men and then killed them…her own brother… Mario was no soft-heart. He thought he knew what Templars were capable of. Now he had witnessed a whole new low, and it sickened him to the very core.
Tomorrow he would be executed, Amato and Adria will continue to murder men for their wealth and fund the Templars, and the Assassins will continue to be betrayed by one of their own. Mario twisted around on the floor, groaning from the effort to break his chains, but of course it was no use. He finally lay still, utterly fatigued and panting from exertion. He lay his cheek against the cold stone, closing his eyes.
"It will feel good to put this dog down once and for all."
The second guard grunted in agreement, straining under the weight of the unconscious man. Mario stirred, eliciting a soft groan of his own. He opened his eyes and his head swam sharply. He was being carried – no, dragged – outside. He felt manacles binding his wrists once more, and two of Ilario's men dragging him by the elbows.
"Well, look who is awake." One of them commented smartly. "The cane privo di valore." He sneered. The other glanced back, giving the Assassin a shake.
"Faster." He grunted. "We are almost there."
They arrived shortly. Mario weakly raised his head. They were back…the courtyard outside of Santa Maria.
His execution ground.
"When will the others arrive?"
"Looks like they are here..." The guard squinted ahead. "Ah ha. They are." Four more guards waited ahead…along with the Signora. Mario felt his stomach tighten. He wasn't sure if it was from the conversation they had shared last night, or the three days he had gone without food. Regardless, the pain was enough to double him over. The guards dragging him came to a stop before Adria, shoving him onto his knees. She nodded and they grabbed Mario's arms, forcing his cuffed wrists back behind his head. Once more, he was chained to the stake.
"Soon, Assassin, I promise…" Adria murmured. "Soon this little diversion will be over with and I can return to my life. I'm truly sorry I cannot say the same for you." She fixed a look of mock pity on the Assassin.
Once more, it did not take long for a crowd to gather. Mario grew weaker and weaker, until he no longer had the strength to hold himself up, and his head hit the hot cobblestone. A guard moved forward to jerk him back, but the Signora motioned for him to step back.
"Let him be for now." She ordered. He nodded, eyes large, and obediently stepped back. Adria looked to her Captain. "Ilario. Where is the executioner?" She hissed. Ilario coughed.
"He will be here soon Signora, I assure you."
"He had better - "
"Am I late?" A tall man in heavy armor stepped forward. He removed his helmet and shielded his eyes from the sun. "Sono spiacente, Signora. I had business to take care of back at the Watch. My humble apologies." He bowed deeply, and Adria smiled despite her earlier irritation.
"Nessun problema. I assume we can get this taken care of subito. Right away."
"Certo, Signora. But of course." The soldier bowed deeply before straightening. He approached the half-conscious man, who was struggling to raise his head.
"Up. I said UP, dog!" He snarled, jerking Mario's head up. The two locked eyes. Mario grimaced in pain, but not fear. Never fear.
"I will die today." He whispered. The dust he'd breathed in scratched his throat and hurt his chest. "But know this. My brother will avenge my death. He will make you – all of you – pay dearly for your actions."
"Is that all?" The executioner sneered. "Va bene. I wouldn't want to get bored, after all." His smirk vanished when the Assassin defiantly spit at his feet.
"Fool!" He hissed, yanking Mario's head up by his hair. The Assassin shrieked in agony. "Fine. If this is how you want it." Grasping the Assassin by the hair, he raised his blade. Narrowed his eyes. Aimed for the throat. And released the handle. The blade arched through the air –
- and into the throat of the Captain, Ilario. The Signora screamed, shouting orders to the others. The executioner dropped the Assassin and jumped nimbly over him. More knives flew, and two more bodies fell. Realizing they were entirely outmatched, the remaining soldiers fought to flee the courtyard. Adria scrambled ahead of them, desperate to make her own escape.
Giovanni Auditore would have compassion for none of them. All of them would die, after the anguish and torment they dared put his brother through. He clenched his jaw and sprinted, kicking out one man's legs from under him. He fell hard, scrambling madly in the dust. Giovanni raised his arm.
Snick.
The fourth guard screamed, watching his friend and fellow soldier die from a quick stab to the throat. He was next to follow, too stunned to even attempt to pull himself up from the ground. The last man was felled just as quickly, a short dagger sticking out of his spine. The last to perish was Adria herself, throat slit. The bodies lay in the dirt, attracting flies and the occasional small dog. The irony would be unbelievable, had Mario been conscious to make the connection.
Giovanni wasted no more time returning to his brother's side.
"Mario… Mario, please." He pleaded, taking the other Assassin's head in his grasp and quickly removing the manacles.
"Per favore, Mario…"
"…Giovanni…"
The Assassin felt an incredible relief wash over him. "Si? Si, Mario? Tell me."
"I am…sorry about…your boots…"
"Idiota." Giovanni whispered, hoisting the limp man up over his shoulders. He winced at how unexpectedly light his brother was, and how loose his robes hung from his new, narrower frame. But he said nothing, grasping his brother's arm and leg tightly. "Just hold on until I get you home, vecchio."
Mario drifted in and out of consciousness during the fifteen-minute journey to his brother's palazzo. Giovanni was breathing hard himself by the time he arrived, due to both carrying his brother in the intense heat of the day, and from being covered head to toe in such ridiculously heavy armor. He was thankful when his home finally came into view, and even more thankful when he spotted his wife waiting anxiously for them.
"Giovanni! …Oh! Oh…poor Mario…." Maria breathed, hurrying over.
"Is the room prepared?" Asked her husband, out of breath.
"Si. Annetta is there now, and dottore Ottavio is on his way."
He nodded, carrying his brother into the house. He made his way to the nearest guest bedroom and carefully maneuvered him onto the mattress. Mario was flushed – his face splotched red and pink from the heat. He was covered in perspiration and his robes looked several sizes too large. Giovanni felt himself being pushed carefully aside as his wife took control.
"Annetta, bring me two buckets of water. The colder the better. And see what bandages we have available." The Assassin wasn't bleeding heavily, but the wounds he did have would need tending to in order to ensure they did not become infected. The young house servant nodded and hurried off. Maria sat down beside her brother-in-law, dabbing gently at a cut above his eye with the edge of her sleeve.
"It worked, Maria…" Giovanni seemed to have recovered his breath. "Your plan. They never suspected who I was. Not until it was time."
Maria gave him a brief but knowing smile. "As I suspected." She returned her attention back to Mario, and was surprised to see him just beginning to stir. "Shh – bene, you're alright. It's okay." She smiled, gently brushing his cheek, meeting his frightened eyes with her own warm, calm ones.
His rapidly beating heart slowly returned to normal. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head roll to the side. "Is she…she…"
Giovanni looked vaguely puzzled. "Who?"
"The women. Il Signora. Adria…"
"The woman in the courtyard? The one overseeing your execution?" Giovanni's jaw tightened and his eyes grew hard.
"Si.." He groaned softly, shifting. Maria nodded to Annetta, who set the buckets on the floor, and handed Maria the roll of bandages. She set to work seeing to Mario's various cuts and scrapes.
"What about her?" Giovanni pushed gently.
"…she…and Amato…" He swallowed hard. "They are working together. Amato is a Templar…"
Giovanni's brow furrowed dangerously. The look in his eyes said it all. "Scusi." He said coldly, rising. Maria looked to him, her own brown eyes showing with understanding.
"I will keep a light on for you."
"Don't stay up." He kissed her, then strode purposefully from the bedroom. Maria watched him go only a moment longer, before returning her attention to Mario.
To her surprise, the Assassin had already drifted back into a peaceful sleep. His battle was over.