Bodies littered the foggy road ahead: Naplese soldiers and Mario's scraggly mercenaries. The Naplese outnumbered the latter in casualties, but not by a wide margin.
"Your Uncle, he is not among the dead, is he?" Annetta's tone was inappropriately dramatic.
"No," Ezio replied flatly. This is the woman Poala believed she had molded into a killer. Ezio could not help but feel a bit skeptical.
Growing up, he had always looked at her as a superior, almost like a second mother. But the conflict with the Templars had chisselled them into two very different people, and now he felt like the adult in this situation.
They had received reports from a runaway peasant that soldiers of Don Ferrante had occupied a nearby village, and taken an important mercenary captive. Ezio suspected it was his uncle, so he had come to investigate. Annetta accompanied him; She was sort of his apprentice, having not yet spilled blood herself.
Her only armament was a hidden blade which was, of course, totally invisible given her garments, though chances are she would not even use that. Most probably, she would serve as only a distraction. If not, she would be a spectator.
"Look, there!" Annetta said. "That's the village the soldiers took!"
Ezio could indeed see what she was referring to. Off the right side of the road was a village, a guard occupying the corner formed between two houses.
The peasant had claimed there were at least five men occupying the village.
The soldier had his hand on his sword hilt. He was probably as keenly interested in them as they were in him.
The male Assassin whispered under his breath, without breaking his gaze straight ahead, "You go ahead and distract him. I will try to get inside their perimeter." As ordered, Annetta briskened her pace. It was less than a decade ago she had been the one giving him orders. And back then it was not on mortal matters.
Ezio tried to look unassuming, shifting only his eyes to analyze the nearby house as he advanced: at this side were the crops. He could surely make it on top and then upon the chimney for a better view.
But Annetta worried him. She was family, putting herself in danger rawly in his presence.
The young Auditore and the Orsi brothers had discussed women in the Order. Though most were relegated to a supporting role, there were apparently more than a few who spilled blood. Ezio still had trouble imagining Annetta as a killer, though.
Nonetheless, he had not witnessed her training. He had to trust her sister, who would likely be as concerned for her safety as he was.
The woman began speaking. Supposedly Paola had taught her the tricks of captivating an audience; Ezio was relying on that.
Hoping the guard was sufficiently distracted but not daring to look, the Auditore changed course, to make it into the small crop field behind the pauper's abode. He wondered if this was the home of the man who had brought news of Mario's capture.
The young Assassin wondered who gave these men the order to capture his uncle, if that was truly who they got: someone within the Templar ranks, or had Mario's face simply gained enough general notoriety as the mercenary commander?
Approaching enemy territory, he felt oily self-consciousness all over his flesh as he hoped Annette's distraction was effective, or they would both have their hands full. Still, he had to trust his superiors, who designated her ready.
Stepping upon the crop field of someone's humble home, he felt he had crossed a line. His enemies would surely try to apprehend him or worse if they sighted him at this point.
Making sure to be as silent as possible, he got to the back wall, jumped and, pulled himself up.
Upon the shingles, it seemed things had gone alright with no abrupt vocalizations. He could see other men, they were watching the village outwardly. He could hear two on the other side of the house talking, but he did not bother eavesdropping, he wanted to take advantage of the noise. He went to the chimney, pulled himself up, and perched atop, pressing his feet tightly together and balancing himself with his knees, just like he had practiced.
The village was roughly square, four houses surrounding a well. Next to the well was a chair with a bulky, tied up figure: His unmistakeable uncle, unaware of his nephew's presence.
He could see guards looking out onto both corners ahead of him. The two men at the front of this house were distracted in conversation. No one was facing his way. He was dealt a pretty good hand.
The Assassin could easily take out the soldier to the left with his throwing knife, then pounce the one to the right. From there the remaining would be easy to deal with, one of which Annette should be able to take by surprise. A surprise for her too, he realized morbidly: He would force her first kill upon her.
But that was the plan he would have to commit to, as he could not remain in this vulnerable position a second longer.
He removed his throwing knife while wobbling back and forth between his knees. He aimed to throw at the soldier's vulnerable, oblivious back.
He tossed, it soared through the air with promise to break the stagnant ambiance.
It stuck in the hostile's back. His cry got the attention of the guard to the right. Launching himself from the diminutive surface with honed skill and secrets passed down for generations, Ezio lept from his perch. Their eyes locked. The young Auditore had become a fearsome beast.
As he flew through the air, he heard the surprised cry of who could assume was Annetta's victim.
The Assassin, an angel of death, landed on the poor soul and stabbed him in the neck as the victim broke his fall.
Finishing with the target's final gurgles, the young man quickly rose and turned.
The three remaining were now running with raised swords to attack their mysterious enemy. They had spent the past years fighting Florentine grunts and scrappy mercenaries, not used to dealing with hooded spectres who fell from the sky.
Ezio raised his arm at the closest, a mustached man of perhaps thirty, and fired. With its signature roar and kick-back, it stopped the belligerent dead in his track, as he clutched his gut and fell with an anguished face, metal ball lodged in his stomach.
The other, younger two looked confused and panicked, with a squirrely movement of indecision before they decided to run, shouting in terror.
The Assassin would let them go. They were not his direct enemies, just their pawns, though their running was proving a comical and ego-swelling sight.
The battle was won, with two lives spared. Ezio approached his uncle, who was tied up in the chair.
"Well done, nipote," he said as the younger Auditore got behind the older.
"Thank you, Uncle," the Assassin replied as he examined the ropes. Seeing no obvious way to untie the knot, he conceded to cut it with his hidden blade.
His uncle's hands were released. He embraced his freedom briskly and proceeded to untie his legs.
Ezio heard crunching dirt and turned to see Annette, approaching him with bloodied hands and blade. She gave him a kind of hollow and shaken smile. Ezio had forced her virgin kill upon her, he remember morosely.
"Are you okay, Messer, Ezio?" she asked. Simple filler conversation, he could tell.
"Si," the young man responded. He turned half way, "And you, Uncle?"
"Never been better," the bear of a man replied enthusiastically. The twenty year old turned to him as he was undoing his final tie. "And I see you perform well under pressure." He stood and stretched, liberated.
"Grazie, Uncle Mario."
As the elder turned to face him, Ezio remembered the question on his mind. "What did those men want from you, were they Templars?"
"The men you slew? Doubtful, nipote. They may have had a Templar at their command, but I am an illustrious man, a prize many would want for themselves." Mario never was humble.
"Do you know the name of their officer?"
"No, nipote. I am sorry."
"Nessun problema..."
Ezio glanced back at Annetta, bloodied from her morbid hurdle, then back at Mario. As the thrill of victory settled to a simmer he remembered the destruction in his wake.
"I am sorry you lost so many men today, uncle." The vicinity of this village had become a graveyard.
"Hardly the only loss in this terrible war, nipote. The Templars must pay for bringing this chaos to Firenze."
"Yes..." Ezio replied, words sifting into the quiet fog. Then he remembered something else he had been meaning to bring up.
"I have been meaning to tell you...I slew a Templar commander a couple of months prior. He spoke strange words to me. He claims a Templar knew my father."
"Knew him, nipote?"
"Met him, at least."
His uncle sighed. Ezio was eager to find out what that sigh could mean, listening intently for the upcoming words. "I suspected as much. Our blood is what gives us our greatest protection. But also what puts us all in grave danger."
"You refer to his noble birth?"
"No, nipote. Roots which go much deeper."