Part Four: Death of a Judge
It was late afternoon when Ezio at last dragged himself through the streets of the San Giovanni district again. His mind and body were numb, from the rain and from the pain. He moved listlessly, not entirely certain where he was going. It took a long time for him to recognize the villa. He had come home.
Only... this wasn't home anymore. It never would be again. Not like before. Not with...
"Ser Ezio. Thank God! I've been looking everywhere for you."
Dimly, Ezio turned to see the house servant, Annetta. The numbness faded, and Ezio wept once more. "I... I couldn't stop them, Annetta." He choked on his tears. "I tried, I swear. But there were so many guards..." And he had run, run like a coward...
Annetta offered a sympathetic smile before touching his arm. "Please, come with me," she said. "We need to get you off the streets."
"What of my mother and sister?"
"They're safe. I'll bring you to them."
And Ezio let himself be lead north, around the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore and the Giotto's Campanile and their crowds, down some dim alleys on occasion but mostly through the streets. Ezio's hood was still up, and he frankly could care less about the guards. He had just dug three graves... Everything was in pieces, there was nothing left after this. No one to comfort him...
A door knocking stirred him from his thoughts, and he watched the small Annetta talk quickly with someone before leading him into a house.
Inside were... were...
"I think we have the wrong building..." he said softly, grief temporarily suspended as he looked at all the courtesans, with their low bodices, high slit skirts, stylized hair, make up, and so, so much flesh. One man was kissing a girl hard on the mouth, another kissing a man completely naked for everyone to see - and was that girl actually sucking on that man's delicates...? They had entered a brothel! What were his mother and sister doing here?
"No," Annetta said, shaking her head. "No, this is it."
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Messer Ezio." The young Florentine's gaze snapped up to an elegant staircase, a woman - obviously in charge - striding down it, flanked by two whores, one male and one female. "Annetta speaks quite highly of you," she said, her gaze taking in every inch of him. He suddenly felt naked, and wasn't sure how much more of this day he could take. "I can see why."
"I appreciate the kind words," he said slowly, trying to remember his manners and wondering if they were still necessary in a place like this... "Madonna...?"
"Please, call me Paola." She wore a respectable frock, save for the indecently low neckline, and a thin, gauzy veil covered her thick knot of dark brown hair. Her eyebrows were arched, but naturally, and her eyes held a mysterious allure.
"... Thank you for offering your... 'home'... to my family, Paola."
"It was the least I could do," she said, smiling softly. "You've had a long day. You must be tired." She lifted a delicate wrist, fully sleeved unlike the other girls, and guided him up the stairs to a private room. No one was there, for the moment, and Ezio just sat at the window, mind awhirl trying to catch up with all the shocks he had suffered.
Invariably, his mind drifted back to the gallows, his brothers and father swinging like sacks of wheat. He remembered their faces as he buried them - every cut, every bruise, every mark of the rope around their necks. He remembered his father's look of outrage, even in death, and Ezio pressed his face to the glass, his eyes burning.
Some time later, the door opened, and Ezio turned to see two women enter.
"Madre?" His mother ghosted into the room before sitting down with him at the window, staring out it and speaking not a word. Claudia was not so quiet.
"Ezio!" she cried out, a giddy smile on her face. "Where have you been? They wouldn't let us leave, and Mother... She hasn't spoken a word since we left the house. Father will need to sort things out, though..." She paused, her gaze scanning the room. "Where is Father? He's back with you, yes? And Frederico? And Petruccio?"
Ezio's heart broke all over again.
"Something's... happened," he started, standing.
"What do you mean?" she asked, turning to look at her brother. Ezio couldn't find the words, his mouth opening and closing, helpless to figure out how to break the news. But he didn't need to, his silence told her everything, and her eyes widened in shock. "... No. It's impossible!"
"Claudia..."
"No. No, no, no, no!"
"I did everything I could, piccina." He stepped forward, hugging her tightly, uncertain what else he could do. Claudia still shook her head, but the denial faded almost immediately to sobs, heedless of his wet and muddy clothes. She knew in an instant what had happened, and together they wept, rocking each other back and forth, riding the storm of emotions together. Their mother mutely looked out the window, tears streaking down her face.
They fell asleep in each other's arms.
The next morning dawned and Ezio rose with the sun. He had been changed out of his wet clothes, and they were apparently cleaned as he saw them lying out to be used. The idea of being stripped while he was asleep by one of the... girls of the house left him slightly flushed, and he dressed in a hurry, once more donning his father's doublet and hood. It was after that he realized that his mother and sister had been in his bed with him, the two women still sleeping under the sheets.
The dawn's light just barely touched Claudia's face and Ezio realized, perhaps for the first time, the gravity of what had happened.
He... Ezio was the man of the house. He was responsible for the welfare of his sister and his mother. He had to get them to safety, to hiding, to somewhere that wasn't Florence.
And it was up to him to avenge his father.
There was simply no one else.
The thin smoke of anger from the day before did not even begin to express the anger he felt now, as he realized just how much fell on his shoulders. It wasn't an anger blinded by grief, but rather it was an anger that burned with purpose, with passion, with determination. His family's honor was at stake; this was not some squabble with Vieri de' Pazzi, this was the wrongful death of his father and brothers, the trauma of his mother and sister. There would be hell to pay. There was only one thing to do.
Kill Alberto Uberti.
Claudia stirred as the light slowly brightened and turned over, humming in her sleep, and Ezio pulled the blankets up higher against the chill air. She was so young... Ezio would have to doubly look out for her. He looked to his mother, utterly still even in sleep. He didn't even know where to start with her...
He left the room.
Paola was in the hall, as if waiting for him, watching as he quietly closed the door behind him.
"Good morning," she said softly, kindly. "Not many patrons stay for breakfast, but perhaps you'd lik-"
"No, grazie," Ezio said, lifting a hand to forestall argument. "I can't stay."
"Why? Where are you going?"
His eyes were ice cold. "To kill Uberto Alberti."
Paola gazed at him under her arched eyebrows, face closed off and mysterious, almost calculating.
"I understand your desire for vengeance," she said, and Ezio already predicted the conversation. He strode past her and down the hall, down the stairs while she followed, still talking. "But the Gonfaloniere is a powerful man. You're not a killer, Ezio..."
"Spare me the lecture," he said in a dark voice, waving a hand.
"... But I can make you one."
That made him stop halfway down the stairs, turning to look up at this strange woman. His first reaction was disbelief.
"And why are you going to teach me how to kill?"
"I'm not," she said simply. "I'm going to teach you how to survive. Come." She gestured that he follow her and breezed past him, down the stairs and out of the brothel and into a small, back courtyard. With a look she dismissed the customers and soon the shaded area filled with courtesans. "Discretion is paramount in my profession," she explained. "We must walk the streets freely: seen but unseen. You, too, must learn to blend like us, and be one with the city's crowds. My girls will show you how."
Ezio looked at the girls, at the skin, and took a tentative step back. "I blend in just fine..." he started.
"No," she said, her voice oddly flat. "You do not. Girls?"
"Noble clothes, noble man," one said, siddling up to him.
"Noble posture, looking down his nose," said another, caressing his arm.
"Wide eyes, innocent face, healing scar," said a third, touching his chest.
"A strut and a swagger, such fascinating hips..."
"Heavy footsteps, booming voice, all eyes naturally look to him..."
"Such a strong jaw and thick neck..."
"Fine hair..."
"Honey brown eyes..."
Ezio was surrounded by breasts and hands and soft breath, bright eyes and alluring smiles. This was nothing like with Cristina or when he practiced flirting with his brother's instruction; he wasn't in control of what was happening to him, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable. Two sharp claps of the hands however, and the girls departed to the far ends of the courtyard, lingering around the flowered trellises.
"Do you see now?" Paola asked, an eyebrow arched in discrimination.
"Am I really that memorable?" Ezio asked, swallowing and trying to get his body back under control.
"As a noble in a sea of nobles, you are you are every inch the noble, self-righteous and domineering without even trying. Normal people will naturally notice you, but forget about it later. Your lips will become a distinctive feature, however, and that makes you memorable. You must take pains to not be noticed in the first place."
"And you can teach me that?"
"Of course. Notice that you haven't even spared one glace at my girls in the last few moments. They have made themselves invisible."
Ezio blinked, realizing his discomfort had gone with the prostitutes, and yet they were still around the trellis. Looking over at them, several lifted their heads and made eye contact, some winking, and Ezio realized what had happened.
Paola seemed to sense this, and she nodded. "Come with me," she said, and led him out of the courtyard into the streets. "Posture is everything," she said, and Ezio watched as she seemed to transform from the leader of a brothel to a mere servant girl, to a sickly mother - all without ever changing her appearance. For the next three hours she instructed Ezio on how to carry himself. He learned about his shoulders and his hips, the size of his stride and the vigor of swinging his arms, how to hold his head and how to merge into a crowd and change without anyone ever noticing. His build was to his advantage, he was tall, but neither thin nor thick, and he could adjust his height by several hand spans depending on how he carried himself. The pinnacle of the seminar came when Paola walked him right by a pair of city guards, and they didn't even glance his way.
"You are a quick study," she said, an alluring smile on her lips. "Now we should teach you how to steal."
"...Steal?" he demanded, then caught himself and asked again in a hoarse whisper, "Steal?"
"Si," she said. "Unless you've coin in your purse that my girls didn't know about when they set you to bed last night."
Ezio flushed bright red.
"I thought so."
Blending into a crowd was easy. Stealing was decidedly not, though Ezio tried his best. Even taking an entourage of courtesans with them during the instruction, Ezio's hands were not soft enough or quick enough to pick up much coin, and in the end he drew more attention to them than he felt comfortable.
"It is not an easy skill," Paola reassured. "You have the basics, and now you have a few coins to float you." They reentered the back courtyard, the noon clouds still leaving them in complete shade. "You can go now, girls."
"Aw, do we have to?"
"So innocent..."
"He's cute..."
But the three left, still casting hungry gazes at him. Ezio swallowed.
"Now that you have learned how to approach the enemy," Paola said, "we need to find you a suitable weapon."
"What would you have me use?"
"Ah, but you already have the answer," she said, holding up something to Ezio to inspect.
"Hey! My father's blade and bracer... How did you get them?"
Paola smiled, her arched eyebrows rising in accusation. She had stolen them, of course. Ezio cursed, feeling abashed. "It's not exactly in working condition," he said slowly, examining it in more detail. The leather was good quality and well maintained, and there was metal detail work that was similar in design to the stylized belt Ezio was currently wearing. The craftsmanship was amazing, save that it was in pieces. The buckles that would normally hold the bracer in place were snapped - replaced easily enough, but there was some kind of blade attached to the buckles, and the blade itself was in three separate pieces. Ezio couldn't even begin to fathom how to put it back together. A blacksmith perhaps?
"I assume you're familiar with Leonardo da Vinci?"
"Si," Ezio said, looking up from his inspection, surprised to hear the name of the painter from the prostitute's lips. "But how does a painter factor into this?"
Paola gave an airy, mysterious smile. "I know him quite well, and he's far more than that. Bring him the pieces. You'll see."
How did a courtesan know a painter? Was he a guest here? Ezio shook his head, not wanting to think about it.
"Before I go, one last question, if I may."
"Of course."
Ezio paused, uncertain if he should ask. But... "Why have you given your aid so readily to me, a stranger?"
Paola gazed at him for a long time, eyes hooded, calculating again, before she lifted up her sleeve to reveal a disconcerting network of scars. "I too know betrayal," she said simply. "Now go."
Ezio had a small meal, rushing through it before setting out. He thought he might have heard Claudia call to him, but his mind was set on his work and he didn't want to be distracted. He had to make things safe for his family before they left. And... where would they go? They had been in Florence all their lives, but... Ezio shook his head, merging into a crowd heading south to the Duomo before hooking west, deeper into the San Giovanni district and towards Leonardo's studio. He had an uncle in Tuscany, would he take them in...? That would have to come later; his first priority was getting the odd bracer working again and then killing Gonfaloniere Uberto Alberti. Nothing could be considered until that man was dead. He didn't care how long it took or what he had to do, he would kill that man.
He passed his villa, and for a brief moment he entertained the idea of going in, getting some things, but he saw a line of guards at the front gate; and "quick study" though he was he didn't think he could be completely invisible entering the villa, and with a pang of regret he pulled his hood further down, hunched his shoulders, and passed by his home. Another thing destroyed by That Man...
He shook his head.
He found the studio easily, surprised to realize he had only been here two days ago. It felt like a lifetime...
Knocking, there was no immediate answer, and so Ezio tested the door to find it unlocked, and he entered the studio.
It was an unmitigated mess, every inch of space covered with parchment and quills, protractors and compasses and straightedges. No less than three easels were set up with paintings in various states of completion - one of them had bits of mathematics written on the sketch, an equation of some sort, and a man inside a circle and a square. The walls were covered with drapes half hung, attempts at still life that were overgrown with pots of powders and oils waiting to be mixed into paint. The room was filled with the scents of oils and paints, and something was rotting, perhaps food. It was like no studio Ezio had ever seen.
Leonardo was crouched over a table, studying something, muttering to himself before looking up.
"Oh!" he said, eyes widening in surprise. "Ezio Auditore!" He smiled; suddenly flush, as he maneuvered around the table to approach him. "I... I didn't expect to see you again, with all that's happened. Ah! Where are my manners? Welcome back!" His stumbling speech was punctuated with a sudden hug, the painter throwing his arms around Ezio in a friendly manner that startled the young Florentine completely. The man was certainly forward! "Now, how can I be of service?"
"I was hoping you could repair something of mine."
"Of course!" the man said, running a hand through his blond hair. "Come, this way." He gestured to one of his tables, and tsked when he saw the state of it. "Oh, what a mess. I've spent the whole day looking for... Let me clear a space." And with a broad sweep of his hand he shoved everything off to a corner, several pieces of parchment falling to the floor.
"Aren't they important...?"
"Alright, let's see it," Leonardo said, nonplussed by what he had done. Suddenly weary of this scatterbrain breaking his father's bracer further, he handed the pieces over with great hesitation. The blond painter took one look at it, however, and all but snatched it out of Ezio's hands. "Fascinating..." he muttered, turning it over and looking at all the pieces, eyes alight in curiosity. "I don't know, Ezio," he said after a drawn out examination. "Despite its age, the construction is rather advanced. I've never seen anything quite like it..." he overturned it again, changing the arrangement of the pieces, as if the mystery would somehow reveal itself to him.
At length he studied the bracer until, "I'm afraid, there's not much I can do without the original plans," he said, looking up with disappointment. "Mi dispace."
"I understand," Ezio said, also disappointed. He would kill Uberto another way. He moved to take the bracer back, perhaps Paola knew someone else, but Leonardo, still looking it over, pulled out a piece of paper from between the leather straps. "Wait, wait, wait!" he said. "A surprise indeed!" The painter pulled open the parchment, eyes roving over the text.
Ezio couldn't make out the text, the language wasn't one he was familiar with; he had practiced his French, and he knew a few words of Turkish from his father's dealings with Constantinople, but this wasn't one he recognized. He was surprised, then, when Leonardo immediately grabbed a quill and began copying the text down.
"What are you doing?"
"The contents of this page are encrypted," Leonardo said, working furiously. "A puzzle, how exciting! I wonder if it is simply a letter substitution cipher... But if my theory is correct... based on the sketches it may very well..."
Ezio frowned, not understanding a word of the man's half-sentences. "It may very well what?" he asked.
"Please, sit."
"Leonardo I-"
"Sh-sh-sh!"
Ezio groused, not fond of the idea of staying but unwilling to leave the encoded paper that belonged to his father to anyone. He pulled up a chair and crossed his legs, eyeing the painter in irritation, before he shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps it was just Leonardo's way. His excitement when talking about the world had been infectious before, and Ezio had thought nothing of it. Now, though, the former noble understood that such excitement would never follow him. His was on a different path; he was the head of the family now, he had people to look after, responsibility of his name and his title. He had no choice but to follow it, and so luxuries like excitement over coded pages, or wonder at a piece of metalwork, would have to go to someone else. Thinking of it like that, Ezio decided he should be happy that Leonardo could take such fascination.
... He'd be happy for Leonardo when he had the damn bracer and parchment back.
Damn painter.
He wasn't sure how long he waited, watching Leonardo scribble furiously across several pieces of parchment before grabbing Ezio's father's bracer and fiddling with it. It all blurred together in Ezio's mind, and he studied the studio some more, eyeing the paints and wondering what it would take to paint a portrait.
"There! It's finished!"
"What?"
"The blade," Leonardo said, a bright smile on his face. I managed to decode that parchment of yours. It showed me exactly what to do. Quite fascinating, the cipher was brilliant, and the blade, it was a piece of art once I understood what to do! But it's fixed now, all that's left is to remove your ring finger."
Ezio blinked, trying to catch up. The encrypted paper, had instructions on how to fix the blade...? And now that it was done, Ezio had to remove his finger?
"... Really?" he asked in disbelief.
"I'm sorry," Leonardo said brightly in a voice that indicated the exact opposite. He held up a butcher knife as if to prove the point. "But this is how it must be done. The blade is designed to ensure the 'commitment' of whoever wields it."
Commitment? How committed was Ezio to killing Uberto?
Three bodies swung on the gallows of his mind's eye.
... Completely committed.
"Bene," he said, his voice hard and flattened his hand onto the table. "Do it quickly." He sucked in a deep breath holy shit do I have to live through losing finger?
Leonardo blinked, perhaps surprised at the conviction, but laughed and threw the knifed onto the table. "I was only having fun, Ezio!" he said expansively. Ezio's flat look in return made the painter blush, and he coughed, refocusing on the point. "Though the blade once required a sacrifice, it's been modified. Quite a genius, its inventor. You can keep your finger." He held out the bracer and Ezio took it, still glowering over the joke, and strapped it on. There was an inner lining he hadn't noticed before, some kind of fur or soft material that made the bracer almost mold to his arm, and the blade settled easily onto the inside of his wrist. There was a string with a ring on it, and Ezio looped it around his finger; the tugging made the blade spring out of its sheath with a soft, almost inaudible hiss.
"Incredible..." he said, experimenting with his finger to make it sheath itself again. Several practice movements with his fist made him learn how to extract and contract the blade easily, it was remarkably sleek and efficient. Even Ezio, not an expert on mechanics, appreciated the design.
"Yes it is!" Leonardo said. "Tell me, do you have other pages like this?"
"I'm sorry, only the one."
"Too bad, such a puzzle! I haven't been truly challenged like that in quite a while. The papers indicate that other pages exist; if you ever find them, please bring them to me, I'd love to have a look at it!"
"You have my word," Ezio said. He found himself smiling, however briefly. Now he could be happy for the man. "And thank you for fixing this. It-"
A pounding came at the door.
"By order of the Florentine Guard, open this door!"
The pair looked at each other, surprised. They knew exactly why a city guard was here, and the two stood frozen for a moment, wondering what to do.
Leonardo thought a bit faster. "Eh, just a moment!" he called out, ringing his hands slightly. Nervous energy made him shift his weight from one foot to the next. "Wait here," he whispered, Ezio already moving to hug the far wall, away from the door. The blond painter waited a few moments more before pulling at his blue doublet and adjusting his cap, taking a breath and walking up to the entrance of the studio, opening the door.
"Are you Leonardo da Vinci?"
"Si. How may I be of service?"
"I need you to answer some questions."
"Certainly. What seems to be the trouble?"
"A witness claims to have seen you consorting with an enemy of the city."
Ezio cursed under his breathe, while Leonardo made a dismissive wave of the hand. "What? Me? Consorting? Preposterous!" God, what a terrible actor!
The guard seemed to agree, his eyes narrowing. "When was the last time you saw or spoke to Ezio Auditore?"
"Who?" the painter asked, a nervous giggle in his voice.
"Don't play dumb with me!" The guard spat, patience at an end. "We know you were close to the family."
"I'd hardly call us close," Leonardo said quickly, raising his hands in a placating gesture, words tumbling out of his mouth. "The Madonna commissioned a painting or two from me and-"
"Perhaps this will clear your head!" the guard spat, shoving Leonardo into the studio and making the artist trip over a table. This was followed with a vicious kick to the man's head and then his gut. The guard was oblivious to the third man in the room, and Ezio simply could not abide the man beating a friend without provocation. People had rights!
Growling, Ezio used his father's hidden blade for the first time, extracting the blade and plunging it into the city guard's back.
His first use of the blade, his first kill, was in protection of an innocent man, and would define him for the rest of his life.
"Grazie, Ezio," Leonardo grunted as he got up, rubbing his head and then his midsection.
Ezio looked down at the body, and the blood that was spilling all over the floor. Death... it was messy... "Sorry about that," he said slowly, looking down at his now bloody hand. He wondered if he should have felt remorse, but found that he couldn't, now knowing that this man was so abusive of his power.
"Eh," the artist said, waving it off. "I've grown accustomed to their abuses."
What did that mean? Never mind. "What of the body?"
"Oh, just put it with the others."
That made Ezio blink.
"... 'Others' ?" What kind of painter was this man?
"The city gives them to me," Leonardo explained, already grabbing the arms of the corpse, leaving Ezio to hurry and grab the legs. "For research." The pair lifted the dead weight, sidestepping to a remote corner of the studio and down a set of stairs to a basement where, indeed, Ezio saw other wrapped carcasses. They dumped the body with the pile. "See?" Leonardo said. "Like it never happened."
Ezio studied the painter for a long moment, realizing just how far the man had just gone to protect the deposed Auditore. The former noble smiled.
"Thank you Leonardo. For everything." The moment held, Leonardo flushing with embarrassment, perhaps modesty, before Ezio spoke again. "Now, I really should be getting back to Paola."
"Of course. Send her my regards!"
Were the two lovers? Never mind. Ezio bid his farewells and once more braved the streets of Florence, thinking about his stride and his posture as he weaved in and out of the crowds, back to the brothel. He made the journey in a little under an hour, just in time for supper, and grimaced as he realized the brothel was full of guests. He tried very hard not to stare too much as the men and woman fucking each other as he made his way up the stairs and down the hall that his family had been assigned.
Paola was just stepping out, and her arched eyebrows rose slightly at the site of the young Florentine.
"You were gone quite a while," she said.
Ezio offered a pained grin. "Leonardo likes to talk."
"That he does," Paola said, nodding. "But I trust you did more than just talk?" Ezio grinned, holding up the bracer and easily extending the hidden blade. "Impressive!" the woman said, caressing the bracer.
"I'm rather fond of it myself," Ezio said, still marveling the craftsmanship.
"I've given you the skills," she said, her hand tracing down the bracer to his hand. "Leonardo's given you the blade." Her other hand came up and caressed his knuckles, and intimate gesture that reminded Ezio just what this woman's profession was. "All that remains is the deed."
"Where can I find Uberto?"
"I should know in a few hours. For now, tend to your family."
"Si. Grazie, Paola."
The alluring woman walked away, Ezio admiring her form and her firm stride, before entering his room.
"Ezio! Where have you been?"
Claudia marched right up to her brother, glaring at him with her hands on her hips. "I saw you leave this morning and then again after lunch. You've left me to look after Mother all by myself!" Her eyes watered. "Do you know how hard that is?" she accused, leveling a finger at him.
"Mi dispace, piccina," Ezio said quickly, putting his arm on her shoulders. The fifteen year old shrugged out of the touch, still glaring at him. "I've been busy."
"Doing what? Whoring?"
"Claudia!"
"What am I supposed to think?" she demanded, her voice raising an octave. "Everything's gone! They're all dead and instead of looking out for us you send us to a brothel and then disappear and leave me all by myself! I hate you! I hate you! You can't leave me alone, not now, not when I'm about to turn sixteen with no fiancé to turn to and no mother to talk to and no father..." Her voice broke into a sob and fresh tears stained her cheeks.
"Claudia..."
"Don't touch me!" she shouted, once more pulling away from him. "I don't want anything to do with you! Don't come near me! Don't-"
But Ezio was bigger, faster, and stronger, and he threw his little one into a tight embrace, clutching her as she struggled to throw a punch or a kick at him, her tears blinding her from striking as hard as she could. He held her until her struggles ceased, and she collapsed into a fresh fit of sobs. Ezio was tempted to join her, to fall apart and allow himself to grieve for the tragedy that had struck them so quickly. But he was the man of the house, now; he had to be the strong one for the family, strong for Claudia. He had been wrong to neglect her today, and it was understandable that she had thought what she had; lesser men had lost themselves to women and drink to forget their pain. He took a deep breath, breathing the scent of her hair, and explained.
"I wasn't fornicating," he said softly to her ear. He felt her stiffen and waited before continuing. "The woman, Paola, she was teaching me to be invisible to the crowds. I need to be able to blend in wherever I go. This afternoon? I went to see a painter named Leonardo, from Vinci; he helped me fix a bracer Father had... had left me. I'm not abandoning you. I'm making preparations."
"Preparations?" Claudia asked into his chest. "For what?"
Ezio pulled back slightly to look at his sister, still a child, still innocent of the ways of the world, and he realized he could not spare her. It wouldn't be right and besides, he could not do this alone. Not completely, try though he might.
"I'm going to kill the man responsible for this," he said in a deadly serious voice.
He watched as her eyes widened, her face slacking in shock as she came to understand this was not an idle threat or boastful promise. This was a vow. To himself. To her. To their mother. To their dead family. To the honor of their name.
Her face, too, took on a serious tone. It should not have to look like that, her face, it should be filled with laughter and hope and anticipation, but Uberto had robbed her even of this, and Ezio burned in anger all over again as another piece of his life was ripped from him.
"I understand," she said, voice strong as steel. "What do you need me to do?"
"Look after Mother," Ezio said, kissing her forehead in gratitude. "I know it is difficult, but I cannot avenge our family and look after her at the same time. Once we're free, I'll take my share of the duties."
"Of course," Claudia said, nodding. "I can do that."
"Bene," he said. "Let us eat, for now. I may be leaving again later."
The three supped together quietly in their room, a light meal of bread and pasta and wine. The two tried to talk to their mother, but she sat mute, mostly picking at her food, a tear occasionally streaking down her face. Ezio and Claudia exchanged more than a few worried glances, and they took turns holding her hand before a soft knock came at their door. Paola entered, graceful and alluring in every movement, and delivered her news.
"According to my girls, Gonfaloniere Uberto Alberti will be attending an unveiling tonight of Verrocchio's latest work. It will be held at the Santa Croce cloister."
Ezio nodded. "I understand. I'll leave immediately." He turned to his sister, meeting here eyes, and she nodded. He turned to Paola.
"Watch over my mother and sister while I'm away."
"Of course, Ezio. As if they were my own."
And with that, Ezio was off. Behind the clouds the sun was very low in the sky, the city almost black with shadows - to Ezio's advantage as he merged into the thinning crowds, making his way south through the narrow streets of the San Marco district. Even in such poor light he could hear the hammers of the construction crew still fighting to get just a little bit of work done, the district going through a burst of expansion. He could make out the black silhouettes of scaffolding, of wooden beams hanging out over the dark sky, certain structures still just beams - skeletons of themselves.
He arrived at the Franciscan chapel Santa Croce just as the lamplighters began plying their trade. A relatively new construction, it was the largest Franciscan church in the world and financed by the Pazzi family. The plaza was filled with a few people, but most folk were already making their way into the inner courtyard. Ezio merged with one crowd, meandering slowly across the plaza, when his eyes saw the familiar fat figure of the man he was hunting. With him was another man that Ezio could not make out until they passed by a torch.
"Again with this?" the judge was saying.
"You have overstepped your bounds, Uberto."
"Who are you to speak of bounds?" the Gonfaloniere, accused, his voice bitter. "You, who have crowned yourself Lorenzo de' Medici: Principe da Firenze."
Lorenzo, a tall man with a bony face, shook his head.
"I've done no such thing," he said in defense, looking away annoyed. What was the patron of Florence doing here? Wasn't he away... But Ezio realized his delivery to Lorenzo had been two days ago, the steward had said the man would return. Too late, it seemed. Far too late.
"Of course not," Uberto countered, sarcasm and venom in every syllable. "Ever innocent. How convenient." He scoffed before a slick grin spread across his face. "At least now we see how far your reach extends - which is to say - nowhere at all. It proves a valuable lesson for me and my allies."
The Medici scowled. "Yes. Your allies the Pazzi. Is that what this is about?"
But Uberto began walking ahead, shaking his head and calling over his shoulder, "Be careful with your words, Lorenzo. You might attract the wrong sort of attention."
Ezio frowned at first, uncertain what the two were talking about, but decided it didn't matter. Nothing mattered because that bastard was about to die.
The courtyard was filled with people and paintings, the rich and powerful rubbing shoulders as they viewed the works of the artist and commented less on it and more on the gossip of the day. And the gossip of course, was the Auditore family. Ezio took up position by one of the paintings, looking like he was loitering, and watched Uberto from under his hood, following the man's moves and waiting until the dead man came within range to strike.
"Good evening, Gonfaloniere," a man said, walking up with his wife and shaking hands with the target.
"To you as well," Uberto replied. "I trust you're enjoying yourselves?"
"Indeed! A nice distraction from that nasty business with the Auditore family."
The judge had the audacity to look sad. "And to think I once thought Giovanni as a brother..." he said. Ezio growled deep in his throat, and pressed his lips together into a tight line to prevent making more noise.
"Don't blame yourself," the husband said. "How could you have known the evils he had planned?"
The wife nodded sagely, saying, "I say we strike his name from the records books. Let history forget he ever even existed."
"Hm. Yes," the target said, "I should look into that. If you'll excuse me for a moment."
Ezio glared, another growl pressing in his chest that he refused to let out. Strike the Auditore from the records? Erase their very existence? Ignore everything the Auditore had done? Never. Never! Ezio would never let his family name be forgotten in history. Never! He broke away from the painting and started stalking towards the Gonfaloniere.
"Uberto!" a woman said. "A moment of your time?"
"Anything for you, Beatrice."
"So! Tell us, how does it feel to be a hero?"
"Please," the judge said. "I am no such thing. As Gonfaloniere, it is my duty to ensure that the city of Firenze remains a shining beacon of justice. Corruption and its ills shall land no purchase here so long as I am in control."
Bastard. Bastard! To dare speak of corruption and justice when he was such a hypocrite! Ezio advanced further.
"You are a treasure, Uberto," the woman was saying, "I hope Lorenzo recognizes that."
Uberto was about to say something, but his eyes locked onto Ezio, and his eyes doubled in size.
"You...!"
Ezio said nothing, burning with anger, determined to avenge his family, determined to make sure no one forgot the name of his family. His hidden blade extended past his fist; Ezio grabbed Uberto's shoulder to hold him in place, and he stabbed him, deep in the chest, feeling every muscle and sinew and organ be penetrated. It did not satisfy him, and so he pulled his blade out and stabbed again.
And again.
And again.
Blood spurted everywhere, messy and indiscriminate as it stained everything around them, and Ezio stabbed once more, before Uberto's weight finally gave out, and Ezio, still clutching the bastard's shoulder, lowered himself with the target into a controlled fall. He looked into the face of Uberto, grim eyes looking into the shocked orbs of the judge. Uberto's face slowly dawned with understanding, and he looked up at his executioner with something like regret.
"You would have done the same," he gasped. "To save the ones you love."
Ezio had not expected the words; they made him feel something he had not thought he would: understanding. Uberto thought he was protecting his family, and Ezio had performed this deed for the exact same reasons. But even that realization could not outweigh the rage he felt towards this man.
"Yes," he said slowly. "I would. And I have."
He laid the body down slowly, wondering if he should feel satisfaction with the job he had done. But there was nothing in him but the rage. Uncertain what more he could do to satisfy himself, he looted the body, finding parchment and stuffing it into his belt for later perusal. He stood, looking out at the shocked crowd, and spied the woman who had dared suggest his name be erased from history. The rage filled his chest, and he suddenly found himself shouting.
"The Auditore are not dead!" he cried out, gaze spinning around the crowd. "I'm still here! Me! Ezio Auditore!"
There was a pause, everyone staring, then,
"Assassino!"
Everyone started screaming, people running left right and center to get away from the murderer, and Ezio saw guards beginning to flood into the courtyard. Shit, he had not planned for that! For one blinding moment he panicked, but his helpless sister and mother filled his vision. He choked down the fear and sprinted across the courtyard, dashing up an unopened crate and scaling up one of the pillars, hoisting himself up to the tiled roof. It was fully dark now, and only the dim light from inside the chapel giving him any sense of direction, and he ran down the edge of the roof, slipping more than once on the tiles but somehow keeping his footing. He crashed into an exterior wall, cursing before hopping up to the crossbeam of a window nearby and using it to climb even higher. The city guards were still chasing him, much more tentatively, and he used that to push more distance between them.
His eyes finally started to adjust to the light, and he made his way to the edge of the roof with surer steps, swinging over its edge and climbing down a few feet before he came to a halt, having lost any sign of hand or foot holds. Damn. What was he supposed to do now?
He looked down below him, spying a cart full of flowers directly below him. Could he stand the fall? He would have to; he couldn't go back. He wouldn't want to at any rate.
"Father," he prayed, "Please look out for me."
He let go.
The wind rushed through his ears and for a split second he thought he was going to die, but the flowers suddenly surrounded him, and he let out a startled gasp that he had survived. Ezio giggled slightly, adrenaline pumping through his body, before he realized he couldn't stay there and pulled himself out. His legs almost couldn't take his weight after the shock, but he pulled himself together and sprinted across the piazza and up the streets before ducking into an alley and stopping. Ears listening for anything, he could hear no signs of pursuit. That didn't necessarily mean anything, however, and so he kept to the unlit alleys for almost an hour before finally exiting out to a street, the lamplight bright to his dilated eyes. Very few people were out at this late hour, but Ezio remembered what he had learned from Paola, and moved like he had purpose and direction and made his way north.
He knocked on the brothel's door, and he was inside for perhaps two minutes before Paola arrived, looking at him from halfway up the stairs with her mysterious calculating eyes.
Slowly, she stepped down and embraced him. "It is a difficult thing, what you have done. I'm sorry."
The sympathy and regret somehow surprised him, and he gingerly returned the hug, uncertain how else to respond. The courtesan led Ezio wordlessly up to the stairs to his room, and Claudia, pacing about the chamber, immediately threw her arms around him, squeezing for all she was worth.
"I think it best we leave Firenze," he said slowly when they finally pulled apart. "I'm certain my face will be described to everyone by the morning, so the sooner the better."
"Where will you go?" Paola asked.
"My uncle Mario owns a villa in Tuscany, near Monteriggioni, I think."
The courtesan nodded. "I understand. You do not have much time. I will collect your mother."
Claudia looked to her brother. "Tuscany?"
"We don't have anywhere else to go. I'd rather leave Italia all together; I'll have to think on that."
Paola returned with Maria, still mute and staring off into nothing, clutching Petruccio's feather box. The three piled down the stairs, their meager possessions fitting into only one sack that Ezio had clasped around his shoulder. He gave one last look to Paola, who had done so much for him in such a short amount of time, all because Annetta was her sister, all because the housemaid had spoken highly of them. Ezio swore he would find a way to return the favor in the future, if he ever could return to Florence.
"Thank you again, for everything."
Paola touched his shoulder gently, before kissing his cheek.
"Stay safe, Ezio. Stay vigilant. I suspect the road ahead is yet long."
Ezio nodded.
And they left.
The streets were dark, but that was fine for Ezio, his eyes were always good, and he leaned into his sister. "I'll keep an eye out for the guards and distract them if I have to. Keep an eye on Mother and make sure she doesn't stray."
"I understand," Claudia said, looping an arm around Maria's shoulders and gently turning her.
Ezio stalked out in front to take point, his eyes sharp as an eagle as he navigated the streets. The San Marco district was thick with guards, and Ezio more than once had to backtrack with his sister and mother to a back alley, filled with the stench of feces and stagnant water. He was accustomed to it, taking shortcuts as a courier, but Claudia constantly complained. "It stinks," she whispered hoarsely, trying to cover her nose with her sleeve.
"Worry after we're past the gates," Ezio muttered, annoyed.
They finally reached the city wall, and Ezio felt slightly better, knowing that few people indeed - even guards, frequented the walls, and he walked with some confidence as he followed the wall north. Maria was not equipped to walk in the uneven ground, however, and tripped more than once. Ezio was forced to help Claudia with their mother, both holding her as they made their way through soft dips and hills and puddles. Ezio prayed it wouldn't start to rain; they had only the clothes on their back and nothing to safeguard themselves. As it was, Ezio had already shrugged off his cloak and donated it to his mother, her health more worrying than Claudia.
They reached the gates and Ezio started to curse very creatively. It was filled with city guards, no doubt deliberately placed to prevent anyone from leaving the city.
"What do we do?" Claudia asked.
"I don't know."
"But we have to leave the city."
"I know."
"Then how do we sneak past them?"
"I don't know..."
"Messer Ezio?"
The three Auditore looked over to see a pair of courtesans, barely clothed in even the cold December air.
"What do you want?" he asked, wary.
"Paola sent us," one of them said. "She said you might need help getting past the gates."
That woman, how could she be so kind?
"You mean you can get us past the guards?" Claudia asked, dubious.
"Child, watch a pair of masters at work," the other said, smiling not unkindly to the fifteen-year-old. "Wait until it's safe."
"But when will that-"
"You'll know when that is."
And the two disappeared into the shadows, leaving Ezio and Claudia to look at each other, uncertain what was going to happen. They shrugged, and instead huddled close to their mother, hoping their proximity would keep her warm. Her hands were like ice, but she refused to let go of the feather box.
"What beautiful ladies! Bellisima!"
"Such an elegant dance, such an elegant leg..."
"Brava, brava! Again!"
The two siblings looked to each other, and crept closer to the gate, uncertain what was happening. Ezio could make out the two courtesans, along with three others, dancing by the gate, the guards watching them in rapt fascination and not a little bit of lust. Several had broke rank to get a better look, and the far end of the gate was wide open.
"This way," Ezio whispered, blessing Paola again for her kindness and guiding his family slowly through the gate and down the road. The clouds parted, a full moon casting light over the expanse of Florentine territory. They... they had left the city. For the first time in their lives... Not off for a visit, or going on a trip, just leaving...
Ezio shook his head, trying to focus on the future. They had no money to hire a coach, nor would he want to draw that kind of attention. They would have to walk all the way to Tuscany. He groaned at the thought and rubbed his face, taking a deep breath and bracing himself. "Come on," he said slowly, taking his mother's arms and helping to guide her down the road.
The night dragged on. Neither Ezio nor Claudia had slept well, and the darkness made them tired. Ezio struggled to hold it at bay but his sister was not accustomed to difficulty in her life, and her youth made her tiredness cranky.
"I'm tired, Ezio. How long until we reach Monteriggioni?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think Uncle Mario will remember us? It's been so long since we've seen him."
"I don't know, I hope so."
"... How could this have happened to us?"
"I don't know..."
"Will we ever be back?"
"I don't know..."
"What will happen to our house?"
"I don't know."
"How... how will I find a husband after this?"
"I don't know," Ezio said frustrated.
"Were they..." Claudia paused, looking down. "Were they given a proper burial?"
And at last Ezio understood, and he put his irritation aside in favor of giving her what she needed. "Yes," he said, his voice once more cracking at the memory. "They were."
Claudia mulled over that, still helping her mother, before she nodded. "Good. At least they can rest in peace."
"Yes."
"Did they..." Her pause stretched out even longer. "Did they suffer?"
Frederico slowly choking, Giovanni brained to death, Petruccio's neck snapping. Ezio closed his eyes to the vision, and lied to his sister.
"No."
They walked deeper into the night.
Author's Notes: Poor Ezio. Poor Claudia. Poor everyone, really. Don't worry, Ezio, it gets better, we promise!
Take note that Ezio doesn't really allow himself to grieve. That will resolve itself much, much later (hint: fever dream). Also note that Leonardo is already smitten with Ezio; and Ezio is utterly clueless. We're going to have sooooo much fun "teasing" Ezio with that...
Anyway, no major changes here - again, the beginning memories really write themselves. We did change a few things with Leonardo meeting the guard and being assaulted - the game makes a point of putting almost everything outside, but sometimes that just doesn't make sense, and so the guard shoved his way into the studio. We also smoothed out the training Paola gives Ezio and made it make more sense. Poor Ezio, seventeen and still so innocent. While we know just what kind of "relationship" he has with women, we made the very deliberate reason to hold off on his womanizing at first - he had Cristina, for one thing, and that actually plays a part in how he becomes the womanizer. And so he hasn't been to a brothel yet and is a little overwhelmed. Poor Ezio.
Also note the Leap of Faith; that, too, will come up again later.
Next up: Desmond.