After Machiavelli had left the room, Claudia immersed herself back in her thoughts. It felt nice to be noticed after such a long time and if her Uncle hadn't called for him, perhaps they could have spent more time chatting.
She walked towards Annetta's room and found her sleeping. It wouldn't do to wake her up so early as the day ahead promised more household chores, now that there were guests here. She closed the door and walked towards the kitchen.
From the other room, she heard loud voices and wished they would all stop arguing already. Her brother was trying really hard, but had failed every mission up till now. The Templars were winning and Claudia wondered if they should just leave this fight. What had it gotten them all so far? More than half her family was dead, her Brother had become distant, her Mother had been traumatized and her Uncle was so fixated on this meaningless war that he had never thought to settle down and have a family of his own. At least as far as she knew, he didn't have a wife or even a lover.
Claudia poured water in seven glasses and placed them on a tray. As the voices grew even louder, she wondered when they would eventually see that they needed to back down before more of them got hurt. She barely knew them, but now that they were working with her Brother, she didn't want to see anything terrible happen to them, especially not Machiavelli.
He seemed nice, Claudia thought distractedly as she picked up the tray, careful to balance it in her hands. In the short interaction that they shared, he had been friendly, yet at first glance she had guessed he had more of a reclusive demeanor. Like her Mother had once told her- she shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
She carried the tray towards her Uncle's office and then halted. Uncle Mario was deep in conversation with Machiavelli near the bookshelves, two women were lamenting on how the skills they had taught her brother was proving to be fruitless, while two skinny mean were leaning over the table and reprimanding her Brother for being so careless.
"I am trying." He said weakly, but the two men paid no heed and continued to badger him about his pitiful combat skills.
"You cannot even run fast enough." One of them said. He was wearing a light brown hooded cloak and skinny breeches. His eyes were those of a hunters and his nose sharp.
"We almost got caught." The other one said. He had shoulder-length dark hair, dark eyes and a thin mustache. "If it hadn't been for my thieves, we would have been done for."
"Our thieves." The first man corrected.
Claudia took a deep breath and entered the office. She had at least hoped to introduce herself to these strangers, but given the situation, they didn't look like they wanted to engage in friendly banter. She walked towards her Brother and saw him lace his fingers in his long hair. He looked gaunt and pale. There were dark circles under his eyes and tired lines on his face. He kept massaging his forehead as the two men scolded him some more.
She set the tray down on the table and watched her Brother lean back in the chair. He would never do this, but Claudia was certain he was close to tears and the two men were throwing him further towards the edge. Fearing that her Brother may give in to his emotions and have an outburst in front of all his peers and suffer embarrassment, she surprised herself by stepping forward.
"Leave him alone!" she blurted. She was amazed at her own bluntness, but as her Brother's skin turned a sickly grey, she couldn't help herself.
Everyone in the room suddenly went quiet and turned to look at her, but she ignored them. Walking over to his side, she put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Brother?"
He looked at her listlessly and then his eyes suddenly widened. Claudia quickly stepped away as her Brother bent over and vomited on the floor.
"Oh!" she heard one of the women gasp.
Her Brother wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic and massaged his head. "I feel terrible."
Claudia walked over to the other side and helped her Brother up. Putting an arm around him, she tried to lift him and started to lose her balance when Machiavelli rushed to her side and took her Brother's other arm.
Claudia looked at him in gratitude and they helped carry her brother to his bedroom. Once inside, they laid him down on his bed and her Brother mumbled something incoherent.
"What is it?" she asked. Her Brother clutched his stomach and shook his head in pain. She placed her hand on his forehead and found it hot. "We should call a Doctor."
"I'll call for one right away." Machiavelli said and walked out the room.
She reached for a pitcher on the bedside table and then took out a cloth from the drawer.
"I'm trying." Her Brother mumbled.
Claudia dipped the cloth in water and wrung it. "I know."
"I just can't. I feel so weak whenever they try to train me."
Claudia spread the cloth over his forehead and saw him flinch at the coolness. "You needn't speak. I know."
"I'm trying….so hard…." Her Brother said blearily. "I wish I was like them."
Claudia bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears. The images from her dream returned and a shiver ran up her spine. She had to focus elsewhere or her Brother might see her weakness. She removed the cloth from his forehead and dipped it into the cool water again.
"I wish they had told me." He said.
"Shush! You must try to get some rest." Claudia said, keeping her tone in check. What she really wanted to do was go into her room and cry her heart out. The pain from all those years ago was still fresh and pricking at her mercilessly. Yes, their Father should have told them about their Assassin ancestry and the repercussions of this life. What had her Father been thinking? He should have told them all a lot sooner.
She heard a knock on the door and saw Machiavelli with a Dottore. She got up and thanked the Dottore for coming at such an hour.
"It is alright." He assured her and walked over to the bed. "Has he been taking his medicines regularly?"
Claudia started to say yes and the remembered that she hadn't seen her Brother in months. Whether or not he had given his medication priority was not something she could say with certainty. "I do not know." She replied truthfully. "He just arrived from his travels tonight."
The Dottore placed his hand on her Brother's forehead. "Hmmm."
"Is he going to be fine?" she asked.
The Dottore removed a vial from his satchel and placed the opening between her Brother's lips. He drank thirstily from it and then gagged.
"It is bitter!" he complained and the Dottore gave a short laugh.
"It will make you feel a lot better."
Claudia heaved a sigh of relief. Her Brother was going to be okay and that's all that mattered. She didn't know what she would do if anything happened to him.
The Dottore walked over to her and placed his hand on hers. "While he sleeps, there is something we must discuss."
Claudia felt her heart stop then. She had a hunch about what it could be, but she prayed that she was wrong. Machiavelli looked on grimly and then followed her outside the room.
"What is it?" she asked him and clasped her hands, expecting the worst.
The Dottore shook his head dejectedly. "I am afraid it is not good news." He said and Claudia felt her heart sink. "My medicines are clearly not working and there is nothing else I can do for him. He doesn't have much time left."