Ezio scowled at the thieves lounging around the entrance to the grand Seta. It's not that he had anything against them, as their amused glances evidenced; it was that he was just in a bad mood. Leonardo had simply vanished from his studio, and hadn't said a word to him about it.
A little voice in the back of his head reminded Ezio that he had done the exact thing to Leonardo hundreds of times- disappeared through a window, left the city for a couple of years without so much as a simple explanation. Perhaps, Ezio thought dryly, this was the artist's idea of a joke, a way to get his revenge…
Which is what brought him back to the thieves' guild. Ezio did not enjoy being pranked, and if anyone would know where Leonardo was holding out on him, it'd be Antonio. The man knew everything that happened in the city. Upon entering, he found the palazzo mostly empty. The thieves were probably out on a mission somewhere- nevertheless, Ezio mounted the marble staircase swiftly and proceeded to Antonio's office.
He knocked politely, twice, before flinging open the door. Antonio sat calmly at his desk, a mug of that café drink beside him.
"Buon giorno, Ezio." He greeted without looking up from the maps spread haphazardly on the wood desk, taking a small sip of his coffee.
"And you, Antonio," Ezio nodded, walking to the desk casually and gripping its edges, allowing his weight to slide onto his arms. "Have you seen Leonardo da Vinci recently?"
Antonio looked startled, and cast the Assassin a weary coal-eyed glance.
"No," He replied, "I thought you were going to see him this morning?"
"I did," Ezio responded, irritation building at the sight of Antonio's apparent cluelessness, "And he was not there. I found substantial evidence that he was pulled away from his house quite directly."
"Are you sure he hasn't just travelled to another convention in Florence, and you forgot about it?" Antonio asked, eyebrows raised, "…Again?"
"Impossible," Ezio retorted with a shake of his head, "All his equipment was still out- in fact, it appeared as though he were still painting."
"Hmm," Antonio frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment, then looked up at Ezio carefully, "Did you find anything out of place when you arrived?"
"Out of place…?" Ezio repeated, confused. His eyes narrowed, "You mean, like a struggle?"
"Si," Antonio nodded, "A sideways chair, perhaps, papers on the floor, a broken vase-"
"Aspetta," The Assassin's features brightened and he pulled the folded note from his pocket, "I did find this."
He handed the parchment to the thief master and allowed him to look it over. Antonio raised an eyebrow at him.
"Leonardo did not write that," Ezio explained firmly, "I know it."
"Then I'm afraid my theory is correct," Antonio sighed, and placed the paper on the desk, "Leonardo has been kidnapped, Ezio."
"Kidnapped?" Ezio laughed humorlessly, "Who by? The man never hurt a mockingbird!"
"I'm not sure," Antonio admitted, "But we have to find out who's behind it before they leave the city."
Ezio paled somewhat, "You mean, they'd smuggle him from Venice?"
"Why not?" Antonio replied, "They might even smuggle him out of Italia while they're at it."
The Assassin tried to picture his friend in a foreign country, surrounded by strange aliens, all gawking at him. He shook his head to clear the image.
"We have to find him," He announced resolutely, "I'm not letting him leave the city."
"I can have my thieves look for information," Antonio offered, "With luck, they will be able to ascertain by tonight whether or not he is still in the city."
"Good," Ezio said, nodding, "I'll return to the studio and see if I can uncover any more evidence."
Antonio stood, brushing himself off. He was smiling, and Ezio noted that when he did the wrinkles in his eyes stood out, making him more friendly than he'd ever realized.
"And here I thought I would finally have peaceful morning…" The master thief chuckled, taking another sip of his dark brown drink.
Ezio took a few steps back and bowed graciously to the older man.
"Molto grazie, mi amico," He said, "You don't know what your help means to me."
"Think nothing of it, Ezio," Antonio waved him off with a pale hand, placing his mug back on the desk as he moved to the bookshelf, "Think nothing of it."
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Leonardo awoke with a low moan. He kept his eyes closed, too tired to open them, and realized he was lying facedown on something cold and hard. Dirt, his hands informed him as soon as they were able. A damp feeling on his scalp told him that he might've lost some blood, and his conscious mind was as coherent as soup. Dull pain caused him to shudder, and he let out another tortured groan.
"Correggio, I think he's awake!" The nervous one whispered, just a few feet in front of the incapacitated artist.
Slowly, Leonardo blinked. At first, the torchlight blinded him, causing him to hiss and rub at his blue eyes, but he became accustomed soon. Sitting up carefully, he used the dim light to admire his surroundings. It appeared to be a dark, dank, castle dungeon. Faintly, Leonardo began to wonder if he was still in Venice.
"Shall I go fetch Il Padrone?" Two shadowy figures stood on the other side of his cell door, a rusty iron relic. Their voices sounded oddly familiar, but the artist didn't have time to place them.
"No," The older one answered, "I'll bring the inventor to him. Go tell Padrone that we're coming."
Light footsteps echoed through the hallway as the first shadow dwindled into obscurity. Leonardo watched in terror as the other man produced a key, opening the door with an ear-torturing creak.
"Get up," The voice commanded coldly.
Leonardo tried to obey, but when he stood the blood rushed to his head, and he blacked out momentarily.
"I said, get UP!" The voice repeated, clearly frustrated. Leonardo gasped and struggled weakly against the firm grip that yanked him upright. There was not enough light for him to study his captor- only that whoever he was appeared quite tall and had an oddly childlike voice.
For the first few steps Leonardo had to lean on the man considerably, as whenever he stood straight his vision would cloud up and threaten to fell him. Apparently that bop on the head did a fair bit of damage to his sense of balance. However, after a few minutes' stumbling, he slowly began to regain his posture and by the time they had reached their destination he felt he could hold his own.
Their new destination was no happier than their previous. Leonardo swallowed nervously as his captor pushed open another iron door that led to a brightly lit room. At the center of the room was a table, with two benches on either side. The young man escorted the painter to the wooden structure, and encouraged him to sit.
Once seated, the thug pulled out a sharp knife, and tapped Leonardo's shoulder with its blade.
"See this?" He asked menacingly, "One wrong move and this cuts your throat."
The inventor did not need to be told twice. Now that there was light, however, he was finally able to get a good look at his kidnapper. The man was shockingly young- only a few years below Ezio, he'd guessed. His head had been brutally conquered by a bush of black hair that looked as though it had never been brushed in its natural lifetime. His eyes were small slits, dotted with green irises. Leonardo also noted that the man was quite lanky. Had the circumstances been extremely different, Leonardo might've considered asking him to model.
The engineer was jolted from his thoughts by the slamming of a large door. A single pair of footsteps echoed around the room, until their owner stepped into the light. Leonardo paled at the sight of him- the man was tall, and his pinched form was rather intimidating. As the stranger took a seat opposite him, Leonardo took great interest in his face. He couldn't have been younger than fifty-six, as the wrinkles would attest. His chin was pointed and sharp, his nose large and beak-like. The man had not a single hair left on his head, which greatly puzzled the young artist. However, it was his eyes that drew the most attention- the left one was perfectly shaped, with a stone grey coloring. The right one, however, was a mess. Something had happened to this man a long time ago, as his eye appeared to have been gouged. The lids were crushed, and the skin of the area appeared to be quite dead, grey in color. It seemed appropriate to Leonardo that such a man would feel more comfortable with an eye patch, but the accessory was indeed lacking. A testament to his character, perhaps?
He smiled, apparently pleased with Leonardo's scrutiny. Several of his teeth were missing. "You are Leonardo da Vinci, si?"
His voice was low and raspy, yet commanding. This man had an air around him that said he was not to be crossed. Leonardo gulped, answering, "I am he, signore."
"Please, let's not be formal," The man said, tapping his fingers on the table, "You may call me Volto."
"Pleased to, um," Leonardo extended a hand warily, "meet you, signore Volto."
"The pleasure is mine." He replied with a grin, ignoring Leonardo's offer.
"I do hope you don't mind me asking," Leonardo began, "But…where exactly am I?"
"You, Ser da Vinci," Volto laughed easiliy, "Are exactly where I want you to be."
Leonardo blinked helplessly at him.
"See, I have a proposal for you, Leonardo," Volto began with a small cough to clear his throat, "A job opportunity, if you will."
"Perhaps I ought to start from the beginning. Many years ago, there were two brothers. They lived in the wealthy city of Venice- but they themselves were not so wealthy. One day, they noticed that the knights who returned from the Pope's Crusade carried more than memories with them. They carried treasures; gold, silver, silk, fruit, everything valuable. And they sold it. They sold it to the merchants, who in turn sold it to the people, and everyone prospered. Well," Volto paused, "almost everyone."
"The brothers tried make money as merchants, but the knights wanted nothing to do with them. Said they weren't trustworthy. After several long months of failed business, the brothers finally gave up. Then they discovered an easier way to make money off these middle-eastern treasures- stealing them. The brothers would run through the stalls every night, picking out the best of the fruit, the most beautiful of the gold, and the finest silk. In the morning, they would return to the market district and offer the goods back to the merchants, who never refused. In this way, the two brothers began to make a decent amount of coin.
"However, such things never last. After years of teamwork, greed began to push them apart. Finally, after a duel between them the brothers separated, each one taking a portion of the market district for himself. Time passed. They married, had children. The market grew, and so did their families. They recruited citizens as thieves and thugs, each one glad to do his master's bidding. One gang was called the Gilda Tasso, and the other gang was called the Gilda Procione. Soon after the two brothers died of age, the Gilds began to squabble. Each one wanted the other's portion. The struggle carried on for decades, and neither gang could get the upper hand.
"Until now," Volto inhaled- Leonardo could tell he was nearing the conclusion. The older man looked at him with his one-eyed gaze. "I've heard of you, Messer da Vinci. I saw your handiwork on the rooftops last year." Volto gave a light chuckle, "Who'd have ever thought a man would one day fly across Venezia, eh?"
"I'm sorry, signore," Leonardo said uncertainly, "But I don't see what any of this has to do with me…"
"Isn't it obvious?" Volto explained, "You're a genius. And knowledge is power. Frankly, Leonardo, I am sick of this age-old conflict. I want to put an end to that disgusting Gilda Procione once and for all. And you are going to help me do it."
"Me…?" Leonardo repeated, frowning.
"Yes, you." Volto smiled again, "You are going to construct a weapon that will help us, the Gilda Tasso, crush the Gilda Procione under our heel."
"And what if I refuse?" Leonardo asked cautiously.
Volto's expression did not change, "It is your right. But keep in mind that I have rights as well, and I may not take kindly to your refusal."
"I…" Leonardo swallowed, drumming his fingers together nervously, "I would like to think about it."
"If you wish," Volto replied, then nodded at the other thief, "Take him to his room and lock the door."
"I expect to hear from you by nightfall." Was the last thing Volto said before Leonardo was yanked up and escorted from the room. As his captor pulled him down the damp hallways, Leonardo could only relate miserably on his current predicament. And, he thought bitterly, even if he made it out of this alive, Ezio would murder him.
