A/N- As some of you may have guessed already, this story will be a bit different from the original- it is no longer romance based. I am writing this to my heart's content more than anything. There will be side stories and the like, but as far as Eden goes... well, she is a solved characters. Now it's everyone else's turn. I'm only saying this to warn everyone now- I've been getting a little sick of romance lately, so this will be a bit more serious. Unless you like my philosophical musings (a.k.a boring and shallow rants), secondary character development and my attempts at having an new plot, there really isn't much else I can offer now.
Roma was not any different from the last time I was here. Mm, was it really only a few weeks ago? The only thing missing was the pouring rain that obscured our vision back then. This time, the city was bathed in the evening light, life boiling along. But it was definitely the same place. Yet it felt as though I was meeting the city for the first time while I rode with Machiavelli towards Tiber Island, especially without Ezio riding with us.
The streets were far worse than even the most vandalized and horrific corners of New York. Beggars made camps where they could find enough space, tugging at passing citizens in groups of at least three. Thankfully, I didn't get as much attention, as the poor expertly evaluated my clothing, crap weapon, and the lack of a coin purse or even a belt. Still, the persistence with which they threw themselves at Niccolo's horse soon rolled into irritating and their speeches soon made me want to hand them all the money that my companion had. If only so they would leave us alone.
It was sorry sight. I couldn't help quickly wiping at eyes for a moment with the back of my hand. It must have been the dust in the air… well, there was no lack of it, so it was as good excuse as any. I have seen poverty before, and there were times when I felt I was living in it. But the sense of injustice that I got from watching those rich peacocks parade in their thousand-gold-coin outfits and jewels while people out here lived off roadkill almost made me choke up.
The buildings were inhabited, but demonstratively bolted and boarded up, as to ward off any soldiers. Yet I could smell fires and human sweat from behind the doors. I came to the conclusion that the people had nowhere else to go, and even the ruins provided some shelter. Feral dogs were fighting over a pigeon that stupidly landed on the streets, bony cats hissed and jumped at every noise, and rats the size of Bartolomeo's fist were openly walking the streets.
"Roma is definitely not the center of the world," I muttered quietly, allowing the hood of the cloak that Niccolo forced me to wear before entering the city to drop lower than my eye level. "This place is rather pathetic."
"It has been this way for some time, and the Borgia and the French are only making things worse. The city guards have lost all sympathy and humanity; they take anything they can, and no one dares stand up to them. Revolutionaries are prosecuted faster than the plague victims. Stores and merchant stands are taken away from the citizens, houses are destroyed and burn frequently, no matter who is still inside. There are only a handful of shops open in the city, and you may have to venture into the rich streets to find clothing and weapons."
"The French are here as well. Wonderful," I breathed. I really wished I didn't, the smell was horrible... "Simply marvelous. Is there anything in this damned city that is on our side?"
Niccolo actually hesitated in answering. "I have a few contacts and spies around the city, but not enough to keep eyes on everything. The mercenaries are our allies, though they are scattered, or caught up in the war. There are a few girls in the Rosa in Fiore, a brothel to the west, but I do not trust them or the Madam. The thieves are avoiding us, though I am uncertain as to why."
"You let me worry about the underground," I smirked, "We'll set those girls straight. I speak the same language as the thieves, though I might have to brush up on the dialect. And if I fail, Ezio will figure it out," I suddenly sighed, and turned around to look back. The sight provided nothing aside from an old drunk that crawled across the street. "He really picked a fine time to get injured...things would be much easier with him."
Machiavelli humphed, and for a second I imagined hurt in his voice. "You put far too much faith in him."
"I have to, in this wretched world," I smiled without humor. "But you're right, it's not a good thing to constantly rely on others. I have no intention of waiting around for him to get on his feet, as there is too much work to be done."
"What is this? Are you actually agreeing with me without putting up a fight?" Niccolo turned to me with raised eyebrows.
"And what is this? Our resident stick in the mud making a joke?" I evenly replied, matching his tone.
"I am not a stick in the mud."
"No, no, you just happened to be born without a sense of humor. Forgive my mistake," I snorted. "You have been nothing but a depressing pessi- I mean, a realist. Any other person would have at the very least given me a hug for all that's happened over the last few days."
"I was unaware that you were still a little girl in need of comfort," he parried, his voice rather obvious in the fact that he could not believe that he was making conversation with a hopeless idiot like me. "Even at that time, you did not seem anywhere as-"
"Tread carefully," I let out an irritated growl, "Considering you are more than a decade younger than me, you are not in a position to tell me how I should act or feel."
"Am I not? Clearly, your own judgment is clouded right now. You can barely see past your own grief."
"Machiavelli, you know little of my grief," I grimaced, closing my eyes momentarily and surprised that I didn't snatch out and attempt to yank him from off his horse. "So believe me when I say that the very fact that I haven't stormed through Roma to annihilate il Vaticano and brutally murder as many people as possible to get to the bastard that destroyed Monteriggioni is surprising. I know that years ago I wouldn't have thought twice about it." It's different this time. I mentally added to myself, as if trying to pus that persistent violent part of my brain into obedience. I have others to live for now. I will not fall apart again.
"So why are you thinking about it now?"
I frowned, suddenly unsure if I should feed his ego with the truth. Then I just shrugged. "Because you're here to tell me why that is a bad idea. And probably restrain me if I tried to do anything rash."
I didn't breathe a word of Altair, and his contribution to my clear head. I never said anything to anyone about him, not even Ezio, though he could tell when I was keeping something to myself. If anything, it was thanks to the long-deceased assassin that I was thinking clearly now. I was thankful for it, however tempting it was to take the Vatican apart stone by god-damned stone.
"Well, then, perhaps you will listen to me for a little bit longer."
"I'm all ears. Is this it?" I skeptically tilted my head to the side as I pulled on the reigns, and raised my hood up to get a clear view.
Tiber Island was, by all standards, an island. It stood independent in the middle of the Tiber River, connected to the rest of the city and land by two man-made bridges. The tiny district was in just about the same sad shape as the rest of Roma however, so I was not very impressed. Then again, there was the strategic advantage those bridges could give…
"It's a bit obvious," I looked at Niccolo, "Are you sure it is safe?"
"Yes, I am certain. I know it is difficult, but have a little bit of trust, per favore." I wasn't sure if he was making another questionable joke, but I just rolled my shoulders in response.
"So, where-"
"Be quiet and follow me. And pull your hood down."
I clenched my teeth together, suddenly tempted to push him off his horse again. Hitting the ground would surely be a very educational experience for him, good for his personality and my frustration. I resisted, however, and sent my mare after him with a jab of my heels. "What is with this secrecy? It's not like anyone is going to recognize me."
"You are not giving the Borgia their credit," he snapped in return. "Take a look."
I followed his gesture with my eyes, and rode closer to the poster on the wall with curiosity. "Wow. I have to say, I didn't expect them to-"
"Your face is easily recognized, you have many distinguishable marks. Your exotic looks for one, your scars for another. They are not underestimating you in Roma, Eden. You would do well to remember that, as you can no longer use it to your advantage. You had a good cover, but now you are a very wanted criminal that they are offering good money for."
"I can see that," I smiled with disappointment. I did not look too exotic, actually. Just much more pale than the native women of Italy, and with a slightly unusual cut of the eyes. But my scars were dead giveaways, and much harder to hide. What a shame... "Only ten thousand ducats on my head though? I would have thought I offended them a little more than that," I lamely continued, my situation settling on me even more. "Ezio has at least fifty on his. I'm offended."
"Don't be. In the eyes of the Borgia, Ezio has perished, but you could still be a threat. Even ten thousand is a hundred times more than any of these people will be seeing in their lifetime."
"Yes, but you would think they wouldn't try to save a few more gold coins for my head if they truly aren't underestimating me."
He didn't reply, and his silence spoke volumes about what he thought on the account of my cockiness. I already noticed that he preferred not to discuss my childish behavior, likely leaving that to Ezio. Funny how despite the age difference, he was still more mature than me.
Machiavelli led me through more gloomy streets, where people barely even responded. Walking with their heads hung low, their steps uncertain, their behavior bordered on paranoia. Not that I could blame them. We passed a blacksmith shop that was tightly boarded, the filthy sheet covering the crooked sign sliding off to one end. The bank was in a similar state, and I could assume that the doctor, tailor and other stores were the same. The only building that had any sort of life in it was an inn in the very heart of the island. Niccolo, however, led me past it, into its uncovered stables. I followed his example, and got off my horse. He slipped the bored looking boy a florin, and he took the reigns of both horses.
Niccolo waved for me to follow him once more, and we crossed the street to the large building that I somehow failed to notice earlier. A few beggars made their home on the stairs leading to the doors, but with the way they nodded to Machiavelli, I guessed that they were not an issue.
The inside walls welcomed with a grayish pink hue, and red Assassin banners that hung overhead. I looked around skeptically, and was left unsatisfied. It was almost completely unfurnished, aside from a few chairs and an empty desk in the corner, along with deserted bookshelves. It was cold underground, though I could hear a fire somewhere inside. Still, the entire place just seemed uninhabited and strange.
You've had to sleep in worse places, darling. Heh, got too used to the rich living...I couldn't help it as my heart clenched for what seemed the hundredth time at loosing Monteriggioni. Outside of my parents' apartment back in New York before my father died, the stronghold was gladly my second home. And not just because it provided a roof over my head. Any place could do that. It was the people, the familiar smells and sounds, being constantly surrounded by allies, by the people I considered family even before I married Ezio.
Now, it was destroyed.
"There are beds upstairs," Niccolo hurried to assure me, noticing my slightly sour expression. "And you can eat at the inn across the street. I suppose you can rent a room there, too, if you'd-"
"I-" I chewed on my lip, and then smiled warily, "No, no, this is good. It needs a bit of furnishing, but I guess I can see to that once I got my thoughts straightened out."
"Ser Machiavelli!" My head snapped up at the unexpected and unfamiliar voice.
The man was fully armored, walking calmly towards us, and without screams of, "What the hell are you doing in my house," so I suspected that he expected us to show up. His dark hair was cut short and efficiently, in a military style, and he had a pleasant face, showing nobility in his stance and gaze. I was a little surprised to find someone like that in a place like this, but perhaps Niccolo told him that we would be arriving tonight. Or maybe he was just looking after the place.
"This is Fabio Orsini," Niccolo introduced, turning slightly towards me. "He kindly rented this place out to us."
I gave a slight nod, relaxing. The man walked a few more steps towards us, and looked at me, though thankfully not in the either utterly confused or mildly disgusted way most noblemen were apt to do. "And who might you be...?"
"Eden Auditore," I beat Machiavelli, giving a short nod.
"Ah, yes, your name slipped into the conversations a few times," he took my hand with a bit of a flourish, brushing his lips over my knuckles in a truly knightly fashion. I wrinkled my forehead slightly, but waited. I still wasn't too fond of the gesture, but it was bearable. "It is a pleasure."
"Likewise. Where have you heard of me, exactly?"
"My cousin, Bartolomeo. He mentioned you and your husband quite a bit."
I grinned involuntarily. "Of course he did. Did he also tell you how I beat his score out on the battlefield in Venice?"
"He forgot to mention that part," Fabio laughed. It was easy, friendly and similar to his cousin's, though without the loudness of your average foghorn. "As I understand you will be living here now?"
I hesitated in answering that. "For the time being, I suppose so."
He noticed my pause, but misunderstood it. "I realize this place is not much to look at, and the furniture is scarce. But there are beds and fireplaces, so you should at the very least be warm and safe."
"That is more than I can ask for already," I inclined my head with a polite smile. "Grazie for your support."
"It is the least I can do," he fleetingly grinned "Sadly, I am currently forced into service with the Borgia, but I hope that with your aid, we will carry our own banners again. Now, Niccolo, do you have a moment, or are you busy with-"
"We can talk," Machiavelli nodded. "Eden, make yourself comfortable. Just please, don't leave Tiber Island tonight. Even if you aren't recognized, there is trouble on every corner for even an unknown civilian."
"Sure thing," I shrugged. I wasn't particularly inclined to acquaint myself with the Borgia guards today, either. Nor did I want to listen to the two men talk.
"The stairs up are that way," Niccolo gestured to the hallway across from the front door, "Through the door. There are only two beds in this hideout, just pick whichever tugs your fancy."
I nodded, and went off in that direction. The door was in sight immediately, but before I entered, I looked to my right with curiosity. The corridor turned and came to a dead end, and some sort of tall structure that had a grate facing me. I blinked with surprise, coming closer. There were steps leading down behind the grate, into darkness. I decided to ask Niccolo later, and came back to the door, heading through it and up the stairs.
There were about four floors in the hideout, including the basement. Each was smaller than the previous, and beyond that, there was the entrance to the roof.
Hm.
I sat down in the middle of the roof, overlooking the city. From up here, I could see most of it, including the shadows of archers walking along the rooftops, and the trickling people scurrying along the streets bellow. I could see the countryside to the east, and the Castello Sant'Angelo, along with the St. Peter's Basilica to the northwest. The Pantheon stood roughly in the middle of the Centro district. The part of the city to the south, however, lacked any big landmarks, looking as though some tornado had gone through and no one ever got around to rebuilding the houses.
Now, to actually do some work.
I cleared my head, relaxing as much as possible, despite that it was a bit hard in the freezing wind.
"Meditating, are we?"
Scouting. Help me out, my range doesn't cover all of the island.
"As you wish."
So, what do we have?
There were no Borgia guards on the island, to my slight surprise, aside from those that were finishing their shifts on either side of the city and were going home. Most occupants were citizens without any idea of Assassins or Templars, only of the oppression that came from their Pope. There were a few good flickers of hope, as well as some negative, potential traitors. But it was all too meager, unworkable. The only solid allies in my range were Niccolo and Fabio, downstairs.
I opened my eyes. "Think it's going to fly?"
"I am not certain. The citizens will need a lot of motivation if you are to gain their support."
"They are in despair," I chewed my lip. "Since a bounty on our heads is so large, they will be eager to jump at the chance to gain some money. We cannot trust them. I think we will have to pull this one off on our own."
"Are you thinking of an assassination?"
"Not thinking. Already planning. That was Ezio's intent when he said we were going to Roma. This Cesare, he must die. I don't know who he is, or why he commands such power, but it is clear that he can't continue breathing. I don't know what Ezio might be thinking, but I will get a head start while he is out."
"A head start...? You mean, gather information?"
"Of course. Niccolo is right, we are in the middle of enemy territory. We can't rely on the people, we don't have allies. The least I can do is become familiar with the city."
"That is wise in you position. But what about your child?"
"Child-? Oh," I looked down to my stomach. "Well, if I didn't miscarry yet because of all excitement-" I froze on that, unsure how to continue. "...I don't know."
"Sister, you have to make a choice now, then. To quote your memory, this is between your family and your career."
"Never thought I'd be making a decision like that, considering Ezio's willingness to comply with my terms of freedom in our marriage. Altair, what do you think?"
He was silent for a long moment. "This is not the right time. In your situation, every assassin is needed. If you continue with this pregnancy, then you will not be able to participate for a long time."
I slumped. "So. I guess my sign of a good future is nothing but another unfortunate complication."
"I'm afraid so."
"It is very ironic that I'm even discussing this with you now, considering ten years ago I would have never let my chance slip away," I smiled bitterly. He didn't reply, but his silence was telling. I gave a small nod to myself.
And suddenly, I felt a flash of memory, as though trapped within another of his thoughts. But this one was not harsh or dismissive. It was warm, comforting, yet strong and resilient. A woman's face…her smirk…the fire in her icy blue eyes… The stare that briefly reminded me of what I saw in Rosa, Caterina, Adelaide, and even in my own reflection. I knew her, I realized. She was so similar to the one Altair drew in the codex...
Maria…?
Before I could fully unravel it, it was slipped away, like sand through my fingers, quickly replaced with his usual voice. "Go sleep, my dear. It'll be easier to think once you have rested and sorted your thoughts out."
I followed his good advice with a heavy heart, but a foreign, cold determination. Altair was right... of course he was right... But it was not a choice I could make lightly, no matter how logical he sounded, and how much I tried to convince myself.
I couldn't fall asleep for a long time, the empty space beside me awfully haunting, and my thoughts circling and bouncing around my head. I woke up from my light sleep at any noise that the mice made, the rare whistles of the wind, and then, a door closing somewhere inside the warehouse. Soon, though, I finally managed to drift off, deeply and without dreams.
In the morning, I woke up a good few hours after dawn, though it was still completely dark in the room. After a few moments of confusion, I realized it was due to the boards placed over the windows. I spent a few minutes looking for candles, didn't find any, and silently vowed to get the windows cleared later on.
To my surprise, there was a pile of clothing at the foot of the bed that smelt briefly of ink and parchment, along with steel and dust, a scent that belonged to Niccolo. I raised my eyebrows, lifting the clothing up with curiosity before realizing that they were white assassin robes. Before, I wore a black cloak for easier blending, but considering the walls of Roma shone almost blindingly in sunlight, I decided white would not be a problem. Though if the guards were still on alert for beaked cowls and white robes, it would be a serious breach of my disguise.
It seemed that Machiavelli was thinking along the same lines, because under the robes was a simple red civilian outfit, made from richer materials, yet not too much to draw the eye. I would fit in with the crowds with ease.
I scratched the back of my head with confusion, wondering when on earth he managed to get clothes for me. Better yet, why, considering I told him I'd survive on my own, and would not accept any more charity from him? I meant it too. After all, what was a day in male clothing until I got the money to buy myself something more fitting? But he didn't seem to take me too seriously.
I got dressed quickly, deciding that I was not quite childish enough to proudly return the clothes back to him and not speak to him for the rest of the year. The clothing fit on the account of the bodice that held the loose silk tunic in place, so I was reasonably happy that I would be able to openly walk the streets without drawing attention. The only thing that I did not put on was the skirt, thinking that no one would see my pants under the cloak anyway, so it didn't matter.
I quickly brushed and braided my hair (He left a comb, too. Now I would really like to know where the hell he learned of female tendencies and habits...definitely not from the Animal Planet...), and with reinforced confidence, walked downstairs to the exit. Machiavelli was not in the hideout now, so I left the promising conversation for later, and walked out onto the street.
I wasn't really sure as to where to go. As Niccolo said earlier, all the stores within range were shut down. After breaking into the abandoned blacksmith's shop, I was left disappointed: whatever was left was long since looted by thieves and beggars. The only stores that were open were likely somewhere in the richer part of the city.
The richer part of the city, as I figured out the night before up on the roof, was in the north. The Vatican branched off in the northwestern corner. That place was bound to have at least some loot, though the risk was enormous. But I had little choice.
I made my way through the streets, blending in with the stream of people and carefully avoiding streets were I could see guards patrolling. The captains were very paranoid, from what I could see, and I even paused in the shadow of an alley to watch with amusement as he poked his spear through the haystack. None of his men rolled their eyes, though, so I guessed they had managed to catch at least one thief in hiding.
I knew that I'd entered the richer part of the city when the buildings cleaned up visibly, and the dress of those wandering the street became richer. But that was the only indication, however, as there were still plenty of beggars, thieves and crossbowmen watching the crowds like vultures from above. It was slightly unnerving to feel eyes bore into my head from above. I longed to climb onto the rooftops myself, but this close to the Vatican would cause too much trouble. I looked away from the skies with a tiny sigh, deciding it was time to start working.
Picking pockets was almost a forgotten art to me. The last time I cut someone's purse was almost a decade ago, yet I fell into the task eventually. I casually walked past the people as they examined wares and signs, and carefully cut their strings with my hidden blade. It was too noisy for any of them to hear the jingle of coins, and everyone was far too distracted to notice the quick movement of my hand. My confidence didn't last long, however.
I reached for another purse, when suddenly someone closed their fingers on my wrist. My head snapped around, and I instinctively tried to wrench my arm away, but the grip was like a steel manacle. I growled at the man, and with surprise realized that he was dressed as a thief, a cloth mask hanging over his mouth and a dagger in his other hand. His eyes flickered to mine before he wrenched my arm around, revealing the mechanism of my hidden blade that was build into the bracer.
"This blade..."
That was enough for me to realize the guy was bad news. Without listening to him further, I kicked him in the stomach, at the same time unsheathing the hidden blade. He yanked his fingers away from me, and I took off into the crowds, sliding in between people. He shouted something behind me.
"Cazzo," I hissed under my breath. To be taken by surprise by a common robber... "I am losing my touch..."
I shot off from the crowds into the side alley as though a spring popped, and regretted it several times as I ran the corners. I did not know the layout of the city, and the thieves, which were still after me, held a huge advantage at that. Were they coming in from the entire city? Where did these numbers come from?
I had little time or breath to do further mathematics. I didn't even know where I was going, but fool's luck kept me from running into dead ends. Finally, I heard a few circling around to try and cut me off, and without thinking, I ran straight into the wall in front, working my legs up to reach the ledge overhead. I quickly climbed my way to the top, praying to Minerva that they did not have throwing knives.
The height did not give me much aid in orientation, and I picked the first landmark that I laid eyes on- Castello Sant'Angelo.
These bandits are awfully persistent, I absently thought to myself. Was stealing on their turf such a huge offense that they had to chase me though the alleys and rooftops in such numbers? I could just stop and fight them all, but with my current equipment, or the lack of thereof, I would not get away without a few scratches. I had to hide...
A bolt shot somewhere behind me, and I instinctively ducked, swearing through clenched teeth. Alleys and rooftops were no longer my friends. What was left?
I dropped down to a haystack on the street, and quickly got out, continuing to run towards the Tiber River. The wide bridge contained too many guards for my liking, so I instead passed around it, onto the supports, and hid under the bridge, catching my breath.
Nothing. Just the usual sounds of the crowds, who were only a little bit miffed about my behavior. I let out a small sigh of relief. The thieves must have lost sight of me. But…they recognized my blade? So were they a group serving the Borgia? Did they know that assassins were in Roma? The blades were like a trademark for the Auditore family, yet...
I quickly took off my bracer, and drew back my sleeve. The metal was cool on my skin, and slightly uncomfortable, but I still strapped it back on, and then drew the fabric over it. Bene, it was not visible under the loose material. I snapped the blade out, it tore through the fabric at the wrist, and settled on my open palm.
Perfect.
Once that was done, I sat for a few more minutes before checking on the money I'd stolen. It was all in place, and quite a decent sum, too. Not enough for a good sword, but I'd be able to get a proper dagger, which I was more comfortable with, anyway. I tucked the pouch away, and got up, carefully walking from under the bridge. Going back would be stupid for at least another hour, and forward was the Vatican. I looked at it with some doubt, and then shrugged to myself. The worst thing that could happen was me running like a scared rabbit again. That was fun only on territory I knew. Nevertheless, it was okay. Much better than the alternative...
Something suddenly brushed by my leg, and to my own shame, I let out a small cry of surprise. The rat glared at me, and ran to the other side of the bridge. I swore, and then wondered how the hell the rat got there. I examined the wall, and realized there was a locked grate not far from me that I did not notice before.
Hm. I heard Roma had a sewer system left from the days of the Roman Empire. So if anywhere, it would be here in the richer part of the city. I didn't put too much thought into my next decision, and picked the lock with my hidden blade, moving the grate open just enough so I could slip in.
The tunnels were strange. They did not smell of sewage water or waste, just old dust and rats. I shifted my eyebrows together as I entered the dark mouth of it, focusing and shifting into Eagle Vision so I could see properly in the dark. I couldn't help my smirk, the rush of excitement bursting through, like a troublemaker when he discovered a way to cause mischief and get away with it.
These were not the sewers, I realized easily enough as I walked through them, downwards straining my ears past the echoes. Ve-e-ery interesting... Almost too convenient, except for the fact that I was not the only human there. I could smell armor and human sweat in some of the tunnels that branched off. Likely, the Borgia were aware of them as well and had the important passages guarded. Good, or I'd be worried that our job was going to be too easy.
"Seems like the Romans did a decent job at these..." Altair muttered, curiosity and fascination in his voice. "I heard rumors that there were many tunnels under Rome, used for traveling unnoticed by their armies. It seems that you have stumbled on one of the branches..."
But- all around Roma? I could be walking around here for hours! I have to get up on the surface, and then see about finding some maps of these catacombs.
"If any are still around, that would be wise. But how to get up?"
I didn't reply, coming to a stop at one of the walls, squinting and running my hand over the surface. I smudged the dust and dirt with my fingers, but found what I was looking for. Disguised, there were something like steps carved into the stone, leading up. I threw my head back, trying to see past the thick darkness that even Eagle Vision had trouble piercing. Attaching myself to the wall, there was little else to do but begin climbing upwards. Once I reached the ceiling, I tried to push it with my hand. It barely budged, but I noticed a spark of light at the edge of the tile. After a bit of effort and nearly falling off the wall, I managed to push it out and slide it to the side. The light almost blinded me, and I hurried to return my eyes to normal.
The sweet smell of cinnamon and bread hit my nose in welcome. Cautiously, I pulled myself up through the opening, and looked around. I was in some sort of storage room, or perhaps a kitchen. There was no one there, so I got up, and grasped the tile again, sliding it back into place. It submissively clicked shut.
Neat.
Now, for my position. I breathed the air through my nose, noting the delicious pastries that were in the oven. There was a bit of flour in the air, though I did not recognize any other cooking materials, simply because I rarely ever came in contact with them. But they effectively covered up all other essences. No, this wouldn't work, I had to get outside.
I climbed through the window, dropping down into an empty alley, and tried again. Bene, this time I caught a whiff of expensive perfume along with other street smells. Already familiar with the things the cardinals and nobles sprayed on themselves, It was easy to tell the trends. The current one was a disgusting (in my opinion) combination of roses and some sort of strong oriental spice, something that not every citizen could easily afford. So I was in the Vatican, definitely...
Wait, that wasn't good…
I pressed my shoulder against the wall, and peeked around the corner at the main street. It was sunlit and lively, a huge difference from Roma with its clean buildings and trimmed trees and shrubbery. Another dead giveaway were the massive amounts of men dressed in heavy, scarlet, silken robes. They were the cardinals, I decided, though I had never paid any close attention to the distinguishing symbols and coat-of-arms between offices. I had absolutely no idea as to how the church operated on the most basic level, such as who had power over what. All I really knew was that the Pope was the most influential and powerful man in the Vatican. Perhaps even the known world, considering he was head of the church, which was followed by every citizen throughout the continent.
I suppose aside from that, I could conclude that his children were also somewhat like royalty. Cesare, as I heard from Niccolo already, was the General of the Papal armies, despite starting out with the church. Hm, I needed to ask Machiavelli about the other children, just in case. Likely there some other relatives and extended family in charge, too. As I learned in all of my years in this time, nepotism had its strengths. So the Pope was likely handing out important jobs left and right to those bound to him by blood. Not that blood mattered to politicians too much, but it did make a significant difference to give a right-hand job to someone who you have been controlling since birth, rather than questionable outsiders.
I wondered what to do next. Staying was risky; I did not like the sight of the heavy guard patrols. They likely remembered my face from our break in, so it was far too dangerous to try and blend with the crowds. Drawing my hood up in these crowds would be even more suspicious. The backstreets could have patrols as well, and I would be immediately detected. For the same reasons the rooftops were out. What to do... Hm...
The solution came suddenly as I watched a noblewoman pass by the mouth of the alley with a pink umbrella in her elegant hands, protecting her porcelain skin against the hot sun. I smirked to myself, and moved to follow her. I had to hurry, no doubt there were guards around.
As much of a temptation that it was to simply yank the umbrella from her hands, she would no doubt begin screaming, drawing unwanted attention. So I took a more creative approach, put my foot out, and caused her to let out a small yelp. It sent her flying onto the man in front of her, at whom she directed the full brunt of her anger. Hehe, sorry darling, completely your fault for wearing such no doubt fashionable, but completely impossible skirts.
As the commotion proceeded and all eyes were trained on the pair, I simply picked up the umbrella, putting it over my shoulder, and walked away. There were many other women with such umbrellas, and by the time she remembered of it, I would already be out of the Vatican.
Yeah, I should have figured I was getting too cocky.
Papal Guards, or the Swiss Guard as they would later be known as, were tall men with wide frames that easily outmatched Ezio's, and probably even Barto's. They wore protective shiny black armor with the papal coat of arms flashily embroidered on the front. It concealed every bit of them, like the Brutes, and their only potentially weak spot were their upper legs and a few tiny spots in between pieces of plate metal. Yet it were their weapons that alarmed me the most when I approached the exit to the Vatican, past the Castello. They carried long broadswords that were nearly literally bigger than me. Yet they were obviously meant for use with only one hand. But on their belts were also pistols - either matchlock or wheel-lock. Still, in either case, they were trouble. Big, well-armed and implacable.
Yet despite their decorative armor, they stood with straight postures of soldiers, coldly staring into the faces of everyone passing with concealed eyes. Even the cardinals that passed this way every day were visibly nervous under a stare like that. I was suddenly a bit intimidated, as well, though I would never let that show. Despite that even I knew that those men were not to be trifled with. I'd take on all the other guards in the city before I openly challenged these boys.
I decided to risk it anyway, trying to walk as casually as I could with the flow of the crowds. The guards were not stopping anyone, simply watching each person as they passed. It still didn't help my rising unease. I nearly stumbled in my step when I felt one of the gazes stop on me, suddenly reminded of Dante, Marco Barbarigo's body guard. He managed to get a similar reaction out of me during the memorable Carnevale of Venezia. Yet this was different somehow. Ten times more dangerous, the risk was infinitely higher here. I was in the Vatican, after all, at the heart of the Templar power...
Good thing I loved gambling with my life. Otherwise I would have already jumped into the river, or did something to give myself away.
I caught the man's stare calmly, seeing the reflected light in his eyes under the helmet. And cockily continued to walk past. Let them recognize me. I was itching to get my hands on a pistol, anyway...
Come on...just realize which poster you've seen these scars on...let me feel your blood...I won't run this time, I promise, I just need a bit of violence to set me straight...
Someone forced my head to turn away from the guard, and my walk got slightly faster without me realizing. The spell lifted as soon as I broke eye contact, and I blinked with surprise.
"Are. You. Out. Of. Your. Mind?" Altair roared into my ear, causing me to wince."Use your head girl, before they remove its idiotic weight from your shoulders!"
"Signora?" the papal guard asked me, his voice low and filled with icy, sharp steel, though still professional. I stumbled slightly in my step. His gauntlet-encased hand on my shoulder stopping me from moving, I froze like a spooked mouse at his slightly echoing, metallic tone. "Careful now, you wouldn't want to draw undue attention, now, would you?"
"Of course not," I muttered, suddenly feeling my confidence evaporate.
If he attacks, I'm jumping into the water.
"For all the good it will do when he has a firearm."
Oh. Well, then, it was nice knowing you-
"Try to be more cautious in the future."
I couldn't tell if he was purposely toying with me, or giving me the same warning he gave all other passers-by. So I silently nodded, and continued walking, holding my breath of relief until I was a safe distance away.
A slightly hysterical laugh tore through my lips. Well, what did I expect? Posters or no, these men likely got their orders directly from Cesare. And I was hardly important in this game; it was Ezio who was the centerpiece of the Assassin order, and I was hardly anyone in their eyes, just a woman lucky enough to have survived this long at his side. But...no, Niccolo said they were no longer underestimating me. At the very least I could provide some useful information. So what saved me?
I didn't particularly enjoy playing games in which I had little idea of what the rules entailed. Yet there was a certain excitement in it, I realized as I walked over the bridge, staying at the heart of the crowd. So far Roma was proving to be a challenging new playground, like Machiavelli so eloquently put it, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't afraid or nervous. Or in a bit deeper than I originally thought. On the opposite side of that coin, there was a familiar and pleasant tingle in my body, like in an addicted gambler before a game where everything was at stake.
With my exploration of Roma, I had almost forgotten what had gone down the past few days. Once I realized it, I felt a pang of guilt. Ezio was likely still unconscious, Adel was still nowhere to found, Claudia and Maria were a world away in Florence…I should have been biting my nails in worry, not playing explorer in catacombs and having staring contests with the Papal Guard. Yet I knew my husband far too long. If he did not kick the bucket through the field surgery and the four day ride to Roma, he would survive. But I had to keep my head in the game.
...time for lunch.
The Blind Bard, the tavern that was located near the Tiber Island hideout, reminded me uncannily of the Dirty Knife in Venice in all aspects but one- it wasn't anywhere near as crowded. The name for these sorts of establishments were usually picked from some sort of event, like an inside joke. So perhaps there was a blind musician that traveled through here, or maybe it was a bard that got his eyes beaten out of him. It hardly mattered to me, though. I discretely sniffed the air as I sat down by the window beside the door, investigating. Aside from the bloody steaks in the kitchen and the sharp smell of iron daggers that most of the scarce customers carried, there was no sign of guards.
As I had mentioned, the inn was almost strangely empty. There were only a few tables occupied, and a few of the men hurried to leave at my entrance. I followed them with raised eyebrows, which unnerved them further. Oh well, not my problem, I thought as I shrugged to myself. Perhaps it was just a coincidence...
The grim barkeep seemed to be avoiding me too, coming up to the other tables and loudly asking whoever remained if they enjoyed their meal. The customers, slightly shocked at the sudden friendliness, nodded and hurried to show it by stuffing the food from their plates into their mouths, their expressions of pleasure masking the grimaces of disgust. I was not in a rush, so I waited, looking out the window.
When it became obvious to the owner of the tavern that I wasn't going anywhere, he finally came up to me himself.
"Buona sera, signore," I smiled brightly at the man. He grimly nodded. "It would help if you hired a serving girl or too, you know."
"I will keep that in mind." he grumbled. "What do you want?"
"Some food would be nice."
"Wine?"
"Er, cider."
"Five ducats."
"Are you kidding?" my smile didn't falter. I just bared my teeth slightly. The innkeeper visibly flinched. What is going on with everyone? "It costs only one in any other tavern."
"Times are hard, Signora."
Hard, yes. But you were just trying to find a scrape goat for the lost customers, weren't you? I drummed my fingers on the table, still looking at the man with a dangerous smile. Then I noticed that everyone who was in the room paused in the midst of their meals to stare at us. The piece of meat on one man's fork sadly flopped back down to his plate. It turned out there were serving girls, but they were whispering and peeking through the keyhole in the kitchen. Not to mention the fact that they stopped as soon as my eyes fell on the door leading there. I shifted my eyebrows together.
"What is going on around here?" I finally asked, "What, do I have blood and chicken feathers on me or something?"
The barkeep's face reddened. "...No. But are you not the assassin from those wanted posters?" he asked stiffly.
I blinked, and held back my groan. Damn it, I completely forgot. "Why would you think that? Actually, don't answer that. Just get me the food."
"Money up front."
I threw him one gold coin only. He deflated slightly, and walked away. Everyone in the room let out sighs of disappointment. I ignored them, preferring to continue staring out the open window at the skies. At least those were cheerful and beautiful...
The plate nearly smashed into bits in front of me, and I resisted the urge to jump.
"Well, as friendly as you are," I muttered to the man, who looked as though he was suffering a severe tooth ache. "Mind explaining to me what the hell those people are staring at me for?"
"What people? You, Signora, scared away all my customers," he growled.
"Did I now?" I raised my eyebrows, poking at the questionable food, "I would have thought it was the food that scared them off," I sniffed The man stormed off without any response. I picked up the piece of meat with my fork, examining it with suspicion. It looked like the sole of a boot, with teethmarks on one side. I tried to shake it off the fork, yet it wouldn't budge. And when I applied more force, it made a beautiful arc across the room, and fell into the waste bucket. The barkeeper followed its flight with a sour expression. I guess such a masterpiece of cuisine was moving from table to table for a long time.
My appetite was not spoiled by what was left on the plate. The baked potatoes were okay, oily and without any taste. The lone carrot that could have totally been rotten was completely overcooked, and when rolled off my plate, I didn't risk touching it again. I pushed the potatoes around the plate, while still looking out the window. Considering what passed for "food," my appetite remained completely unsated…like there was a choice.
"Is everything to your tastes?" the barkeep appeared beside me. I looked at him thoughtfully, and smiled.
"Why yes! In fact, I like this place so much, I think I'll draw out the pleasure for a few more hours. You have nothing against that, do you?"
By his irritated breathing I could easily tell that he had everything against that. But he didn't dare breathe a word to a wanted criminal. I found that amusing.
"Of course not," he ground out, and evaporated. He came back a few minutes later, though, and put a plate of steaming chicken in front of me. "But perhaps Signora would be satisfied with this faster?"
"Hm..." I took a bite, sniffing carefully in case it was poisoned. This meal was much better, the chicken tender and spiced, melting in my mouth. He likely took it away from another customer to get rid of me. And as tempting as it was to eat it slowly just in spite, I couldn't resist, and shamefully finished it record time.
Immediately, as I sent the last bite into my mouth, someone took the chair opposite of me. I blinked in surprise. The man had very average appearance of a poor merchant, with barely any distinguishable traits about him. In his hands he was crumpling a ratty old hat, a bead of sweat running down his face.
"Er, did I say I was looking for company?" I raised my eyebrows, seeing as the he was not showing any signs of starting the conversation first. "Come now, Signor," I smirked, "You should know better than to cling to girls in questionable establishments."
The barkeep loudly breathed through his nose, but I spared him no mind.
"Well- you- you're that girl."
"Eloquently put. Which girl? There are a lot on Earth," I propped my chin up on one hand, crossing my legs. Just in case, however, I put my free hand on the hilt of my sword. We were speaking very quietly now, none of the other customers could possibly hear it. I was used to speaking to Ezio, who could pick up the tiniest whisper, so I had no problems distinguishing this man's voice.
"The- assassin, right?" he stammered. I almost felt sorry for him, as he was sweating buckets now. I continued to be surprised at these people, though; if they knew who I was (wonder where from? The posters offered that much information), then why did they risk coming up to a person they were so afraid of?
"Assassin?" I hummed, finishing off the last drop in my cup. The cider was far too sour, but it was okay. Well, no use in denying the obvious, then... "What of it?"
"Well, there is this man..."
"Whoah, let me stop you for a moment. Who do you think I am, exactly?" I tilted my head to the side. "I am not mercenary. I'm not going to take their contracts."
"Of course not, I meant no offense!" he hurried to backtrack, "But in case you wanted to earn a coin, there is a man that the world could do without."
"Hm. All right," I sighed, again checking around the tavern, By now, it was nearly empty, save the barkeep and a painfully thin serving girl who was clearing away the wooden dishes at the table behind us. Hopefully, I wasn't walking right into an ambush… "It's not like I have anything better to do," I nodded, "Tell me more."
To tell the truth, I simply had little desire to go back to the empty hideout. It wouldn't hurt to what this man had to say, and then decide from there.
"More?" my potential customer questioned, eyes wide with what could only be described as surprise. Perhaps at the fact that I hadn't killed him yet, as he probably thought I would? God knew those posters like to exaggerate. "Well, he's the captain of one of the patrols. He continues to wreck my stalls and demand bribes for supposed 'protection.' I can't sell a damn thing with him coming around everyday!"
"A Borgia soldier, eh?" I thoughtfully hummed. "Well, I suppose that would be for the benefit of all. But are you sure that once he is dead, others won't come by?"
"They will," his lower lip shook and he blinked rapidly. Oh lord, he's not going start crying, is he? I swore to myself, beginning to get mildly uncomfortable. To see a man so beat down was never a pretty sight. "But if I could just earn enough money to move my family away from here..."
"Ah," I threw my arms behind my head, and leaned backwards on the chair, examining the questionable stain on the ceiling. "How much would you pay to have him taken care of, then?"
"What- just like that?" the man didn't seem to believe his ears. I shrugged.
"Yes. You tell me where to find him, give me half the money now, and the rest when he's dead. If you don't know where he is, that's fine, I can work with just a name."
"And you won't tell anyone about this?"
I raised my eyebrows, looking at him with slight surprise. "Of course not. I'm an assassin, but I do honest business. With those who deserve it, anyway. But are you sure you want to condemn another human being to death like that? I have no qualms with it, but think carefully if you want that on your soul," I said, not without a bit of irony in my tone.
He was silent for a moment. And then there was a grim look in his face as he nodded. "I need to think of my family."
I gave him a friendly smile, as though we were discussing something as innocent as the weather. "Then it is settled. Don't worry, I'll follow him away from your stall, so no one will suspect you. You can attend to your business. Now, about the money...?"
"You must understand, I can't spare too much, or-"
"Yeah, yeah, just how much?"
"Fifty ducats is all I can give you."
"Fifty?" I chewed on my lip, and then shrugged. Usually the guilds took at least a hundred and fifty for a group of four. Though my job was slightly more...heavy than the courtesans or thieves, I suppose it was not bad, for a start.
A start? Hm. Well, why not? I mean, I took contracts from the Order before. Now I would simply be offering my services to people outside of it. Assassins were in demand, after all, to nobles and struggling merchants alike. So if their goals had some sort of value to us, well, it was good day for all.
Machiavelli won't like this, I thought to myself. Ezio probably won't either. But hey, I was my own person. I did not need their permission to do as I pleased. Plus, I needed money, the sooner, the better.
I abruptly stood up, and the man flinched. "Well then. Twenty five up front, and-"
"Ah, I wasn't expecting to run into you here," he suddenly interrupted me, "It was-"
"An impulse. Fine, I get it," I shrugged lazily, showing that I really couldn't care less when I got the money. "Then join me for breakfast here tomorrow and we'll work something out. Now, take care of yourself," I smiled as charmingly as I could. Before he could say anything else, I walked towards the bar and put another gold coin in front of the barkeep. It disappeared a moment after hitting the wood, Hell, the man even muttered "Come again," with a forced smile.
"Where have you been?" Machiavelli looked up from the table.
"Around," I replied, flipping a new throwing knife as I walked inside. "Exploring. Socializing. Running away...the usual things."
He pressed a hand to his forehead. "Are you going to tell me anyway, or do I not want to know?"
"Both. You wouldn't happen to know about any large cutthroat gangs in Roma?"
"I'm hardly the man to ask such things," he replied.
"Who would be the man to ask such things of, then?"
"Well, the leader Thieves Guild, but I don't know who that is."
"Wouldn't they be the gang?"
"All I know is that they are acting exactly as a neutral Guild would. But there are more gangs in the city, I'm sure of it. Perhaps you ran into the Cento Occhi, they have been on the Borgia's side for almost a year now."
"Cento Occhi...is that their original way of saying they have eyes everywhere?" I snorted, falling into the chair opposite of him, and putting my legs up on the table. He glanced at them sourly, but didn't comment. Only pulled his papers away from my muddy boots.
"What were your impressions?"
"They have good coordination," I decided. "They tried to corner me instead of allowing me to lead them on a goose chase that I would have easily outrun. Came from all sides, forcing me up on the roofs where the archers were. But with all that, they still act like any bandit group would. Amateurs, too."
"Amateurs? What makes you say that?"
"They wore masks," I snorted. "Professionals have no need to hide their faces. No one would see them anyway. Running was a bit difficult, but in comparison to the Papal Guard, it was almost child's play."
"You fought with the Papal Guard?" he shot up.
"No," I calmed him down, "I walked past them. That was enough to figure out what they're capable of. Come now, Niccolo, I'm not quite stupid enough to provoke those boys when I didn't even have proper equipment. And on enemy grounds, too."
"What were you even doing in il Vaticano?"
"Like I said, I was exploring. Cut a few purses off the cardinals, and I even managed to get enough money to buy throwing knives, a dagger, and a new bag." I was slightly put out by the fact that my old bag, which was filled with medical supplies, lockpicks and other useful equipment was buried in the Auditore villa. But I could replace my supplies, with a bit of work. A lost bag meant nothing when in comparison, I got off lightly. "By the way, do you know anything of the underground tunnels? I found a path that leads right into the heart of the Vatican."
"Yes, we've been using those tunnels to get from one place in the city to another, bypassing the guards," he disappointed me slightly. Then again, what did I expect? Someone was bound to find those tunnels. "Most of the entrances in the city have collapsed, but there are still a few open. One is in this hideout."
I remembered the strange structure right of the door to the stairs, and nodded. "But how the hell do you navigate there? I nearly broke my eyeballs trying to find some sort of exit."
"There are marks we have left there," he shrugged. "You probably didn't- wait, did you say you found a way into the Vatican?"
"Huh? Oh, yes, there was a locked grate under the bridge. I just sort of walked until I got somewhere, and climbed up in the pantry of some bakery."
"No one saw you, right?"
"Well, personally I think that lady should thank me for making her hair stand, it won't get in her eyes."
"Eden!"
"I'm kidding, no one saw me," I grinned. He looked at me with suspicion, but let it go. I decided he would sleep better without the knowledge of my other adventures, and didn't add anything more.
"What are you planning to do next?"
"I got a contract for an assassination," I shrugged, "So, my job, I guess."
"A contract?"
"Did I stutter? Yes, a contract. I am an assassin, so I don't see why I can't work by my profession once in a while if I'm low on money. Don't worry, I know how to sweep my trail."
He looked as though he was ready to argue, but then suddenly just shook his head.
"It is on your head, then. I just have a request for you- keep up communication through the pigeon coops. They are scattered throughout the city, and you should be able to find a pigeon that flies here. If you come across anything of note, write a message. It will also help us know where you were last if you go missing."
"If I go missing, it would only be because I want to," I grumbled lowly. But I didn't argue any more.