A/N: Yup, I'm a jerk. I could list the numerous reasons I've been slacking (Skyrim, computer upgrades gone wrong, changing jobs), but the overall reason is simply the fact that I needed a mental break. In the meantime I did a ton of reading on European Renaissance history in the meantime and have some new ideas for the fic that should be fun. I'll be sure to include trivia on the real history I sneak into the fic.
ACIII in October! WOOT WOOT!
Once again, thanks to the reviewers that take the time to leave some thoughts: flyingcrispi (love how you always pick up on the little things), ecnal (heh, good Sound of Music reference, it's embarrassingly obvious now), TLMonkey (Irina and Remo are potentially an explosive combo…), NotBob (I blame YOU for Skyrim!), eliina (ACIII has a lot to live up to), black assassinninja, and Chiharu-angel (good call! Standby for the PANTS!).
And to Shamazaki for still working beta; you just might be full of awesome in my book.
Enjoy; this is the last break Alessa and Dino will have before things start getting rough… oo-rah ubisoft for creating AC. You guys rock my world.
Alessa Ricci - Moscow
A few solitary snowflakes were descending gently from the heavy darkness of the sky as Alessa stepped from the warm glow of the palace and out into the night. She felt the cold born of the deepest hours of night pucker the exposed skin of her face and she drew the luxurious warmth of her hood more securely about her head. Dino was a silent shadow of movement behind her – darkness within darkness – as she walked beside the prince.
Vasiliy had ordered one of his personal carriages to take them back to their inn in deference to the late hour and deepening cold. Alessa had never been in so grand a conveyance, and resisted the urge to remove her shoes lest they mar the fine carpets within. She hesitated and surreptitiously shook the volume of her skirts free of imaginary dirt before reaching out a gloved hand to settle on the prince's upturned knuckles.
"We'll be using the sleighs very soon now," Vasiliy remarked as he assisted her up the single step. Alessa settled the bulk of her skirts and furs, a bit difficult in the enclosed space, and then leaned forward to peer out the door and inquire,
"Sleighs?"
"You'll enjoy it; the snow never sticks until the snows falls three times, did you know that?" When she shook her head in response, he continued, "Well, once the permanent layer is down, we get out the sleighs. It is very nice; no rattling wheels and jostling about. They are nearly silent and the ride is incredibly smooth. I will take you, if you'd like?"
She inclined her head,
"I think I would."
"Ah, then I await the next snowfall with great anticipation!"
Alessa couldn't help a pleased flush when the prince grinned like a boy before he bowed regally and then raised her knuckles to his lips. She barely felt the pressure through her gloves. Vasiliy turned and dipped his chin slightly in recognition of Dino's bow, and then loped back to his palace, his shoulders hunched slightly against the cold, hands shoved into the rustling folds of a black, knee length fur cloak.
It was only then that the guards returned Dino's weapons to him.
Alessa winced slightly as Dino tromped right into the carriage, heedless of the fine interior, to settle in the seat across from her. One of the guards closed the door and stepped away as he called out to the coachman.
"So what happened?" Dino asked, as the carriage jolted into motion.
"What do you mean?" she asked dreamily, still lost in thoughts of fairy tales and snow and princes, her mind withstanding the tug of reality.
Unfortunately, reality had Dino on its side.
"Well, you both went away, looking like a pair of virgins on their wedding night…" here Dino grinned belligerently at her scathing look before his expression became inquisitive again, "But you came back chatting like a couple of old biddies. So what happened?"
"He tried to give me a crown."
"Uh. Literally or figuratively?" Dino prompted.
"Literally. And we talked about fairy tales."
Dino yawned,
"Aw, little guy needed a bedtime story?"
"No. Jesu. And then we had sort of a late dinner. He's just kind of lonely, you know? Surrounded by people that don't really care about him, just his status at court."
"Oh that poor man," Dino remarked dryly.
"So I told him that we could be friends," she finished doggedly, in spite of Dino's massive indifference. Dino looked at her skeptically,
"Really?"
"Sure."
"Aha. See, princes never have friends, tesora; too many political implications to consider. And men don't have women that are just friends; there are always ulterior motives. He just wants to take you to his bed. So you're screwed either way. Just so you know."
He settled back into the cushions, puffed up with insufferable smugness at his assessment of the situation. A chance beam of light from a lantern outside spread briefly across his face, revealing a roguish grin that crinkled his eyes. Alessa scoffed.
"Always is a very unyielding term," she remarked as she reached over to flick him in retaliation, "I don't think that people are quite so inflexible, prince or not."
Dino shrugged, his rough leather pauldrons snagging on the fine velvet upholstering the carriage seats. Alessa tried not to cringe.
"It is what it is. And he is a man and a prince."
"Well, we're friends," she pointed out, waggling her brows suggestively, "Does that mean that you only suffer my presence just so that you can lure me to your bed?"
She reached a toe out and rubbed it suggestively along his shin. Dino made a noise of disgust,
"Working relationship. That's completely different. You're just like another man to me. So what do you have there?" he asked, indicating the now-wrapped painting that she had settled on the seat next to her.
"I don't know," she said, lowering her voice and looking around the enclosed space. No telling what the coachman could hear even above the steady clip-clop of the horse's hooves.
"You don't know what you picked out of the treasury?" he asked skeptically. Alessa chuffed out an annoyed breath,
"I mean, it's a painting. But when I looked at it with Eagle Vision, a map appeared. So I took it."
Dino was looking more interested now,
"Do you know what it leads to?"
"Not a clue. But I could only see the map with enhanced vision and figured it needed to be in Assassin hands."
"Huh. Gave up royal jewels for a musty old painting… I'm impressed; didn't think a woman would be able to resist."
"I can get jewels anywhere," she said dismissively. Dino snickered, his tone laden with innuendo:
"I'll just bet you can."
"Quiet, imbecile."
He was still harassing her good-naturedly about the painting and Vasiliy when they arrived back at their inn. The innkeeper caught them just as they were ascending the staircase to inform them that the room next to theirs had just been vacated and was available for their use. Dino breathed a quiet sigh of relief and took the painting up with him when the innkeeper summoned one of the maids to show him the room.
"And there is a visitor here for you," the innkeeper told Alessa.
"Now?" she replied, surprised at the lateness of the caller.
"Yes, ma'am, a young boy; I have him waiting in the kitchen. Would you like me to send him up or have him wait until morning?"
"Send him up," Alessa said; she had a pretty good idea of who the 'boy' was.
And so she wasn't surprised when she opened her door moments later to find Irina standing there, a small bag slung across her back. Even though Alessa was expecting the girl, she almost didn't recognize her. Irina was apparently well-versed in disguising her identity. She wore boy's clothes, layered heavily enough to disguise the inherent femininity in her form. The flaps of her ushanka were pulled down to further obscure her features and she had strategically smudged her face with a dark substance to give the impression of a broader, more masculine shape.
Alessa assessed the expression on that face, at once frightened but defiant, something no amount of makeup could hide.
"You didn't tell her you were coming, did you?" Alessa guessed as she indicated with a tilt of her head for the girl to enter. She was rewarded with a swift look of contrition as she closed the door.
"I left a note," Irina replied, setting her bag down next to one of the chairs near the fireplace. The girl correctly interpreted Alessa's disapproving expression, hastily saying, "I'm not going back there. You can take me, but I'll just leave again. I don't want to be a nun. And don't want to wait for some man to come and marry me. I want to have an exciting life. Like yours! I want to leave Moskva someday and see all the cities of the world!"
"Trust me, tesora," Alessa wistfully, "Sometimes 'exciting' is more trouble than it's worth. Besides, I don't think your sister is exactly on the path to a conventional life. Isn't she training you to, ah, do what she does?"
Big sigh.
"No. She doesn't tell me anything about it. She 'doesn't want me in danger.' She teaches me just enough to defend myself, but I want to do more!"
The teenager's enthusiasm was hard to resist. And part of Alessa could easily sympathize. She loved her work as an Assassin and looked forward to more missions abroad. But she believed that she would have been just as content to live out her life with Vito and their children, never leaving their little community. Blissfully unaware of the dangerous undercurrents of the bigger world.
Or would she have? Would she have gotten restless? She couldn't imagine that she would have but with the ease she had adjusted to her new life...
Bah! Alessa hitched a shoulder in irritation to dispel her musings. She focused back on Irina.
"Well, we need to let your family know where you are; I'll let your sister be the one to drag you away. If she can."
Ha. That would be interesting to watch.
"It's not her choice. I am old enough to make my own decisions; she was training when she was even younger than I am!"
"You give your opinion rather decidedly for someone of your, ah, age," Alessa remarked, collecting parchment and ink before sitting down at the dining table. Irina responded to the question in her tone,
"I have read so much about the world; there is so much to learn! But I can't do it entombed in some library in a stuffy old nunnery in the backwoods."
Alessa snorted with amusement as the girl curled herself into the nearby chair, tucking one leg underneath herself.
"I know a few people back in Italia that you would get along with famously. To seek knowledge for knowledge's sake is the mark of a great mind," Alessa commented, thinking briefly of Leonardo and Machiavelli as she furrowed her brow and began her letter. Her Cyrillic looked childish, but there was nothing for it.
Irina leaned forward on her elbows, propping her chin up in her hands as she watched Alessa write,
"My tutors don't tell me anything so I break into the restricted archives all the time," Irina bragged. Then a faint blush tinged her cheeks, "That's where all the good books are."
"I bet it is," Alessa remarked dryly. They both snickered a little bit. Alessa finished her letter and then showed Irina through the rooms, trying to figure out how to explain her situation while giving the kid the least amount of information possible.
"I, ah, I deal with some of the same situations your sister does," Alessa finally ventured.
"I figured you did," Irina replied, making an appreciative sound as she looked through Alessa's gowns.
"I – oh. You did?"
"Well yes, you already knew her and I'd never seen you at the convent before – and believe me, I would have heard about you, ah… yeah, anyway, you've got some secrets. I know how to keep my mouth shut, don't worry." At Alessa's skeptical expression, Irina insisted,
"I do!"
Alessa grunted something in reply and then both girls jumped as the outer door of the room opened with a crash.
"Ai, Dino," Alessa murmured.
"Oh!" The blue and green eyes lit up, "He's here?"
"We've been blessed with his presence," Alessa confirmed, going out into the main room to find Dino tugging at one of the tapestries on the wall.
"What are you… oh," Alessa said, wandering over to investigate the door revealed by the removal of the heavy decorative hanging. Dino ignored her, merely twisted the lock and flung the thing open.
"Huh," he said, going through. Alessa followed and found herself in a small receiving room. It was devoid of furniture or decoration and even though it smelled like fresh wood polish, beeswax and fresh herbs, the attempt at couldn't diminish the faint scent of disuse.
"The innkeeper said the rooms were connected," he explained, showing her through into his room.
"Useful," Alessa commented.
"Oh, salve, er… privyet," Dino said, turning around, his gaze going to someone behind her. Irina had crept into the little room and was grinning from ear to ear, suddenly doe-like eyes only for him.
"Privyet," she replied, her smiling softening and her voice shy. She glanced up at Alessa, who was doing her damnedest not to grin like an idiot, "You need to teach me Italian."
Dino answered, speaking directly to the girl in Russian,
"You can speak Russian," he said haltingly. Alessa could tell the girl was charmed by the heavy accent and rolled her eyes, "I don't speak well, but I understand."
They all trooped back into Alessa's room during the exchange and Dino flung himself into a chair, long legs stretched out towards the fire.
"Your chairs are more comfortable," he observed to Alessa with a contented sigh as he leaned his head back against the rest.
"Spoiled," Alessa said fondly as his eyes closed and he linked his hands across his chest. She hoped he wasn't going to fall asleep there. Ignoring him, Alessa proceeded to give Irina the basics of what she and Dino had come to the city for.
Alessa Ricci – Moscow, Intermission
They started their search for Aristotele in the Kremlin proper. Taking advantage of the invitations from various noblewomen, Alessa began her rounds of the lavish homes of the boyar families – the group of highest ranking nobles that advised the Grand Prince. She was treated to extravagant meals and the company of Moscow's most elite citizens…
…she hated every damn minute of it.
The conversation was insipid; the women were mostly interested in Dino – Rimskiy Volk they were calling him: The Roman Wolf.
After choking a man into unconsciousness, he was city-wide famous.
Figures.
And what was it with these Russians and their wolves, anyway?
In between listening to breathless matrons and maidens extolling Dino's virtues, Alessa then endured innuendo pertaining to her and Vasiliy's encounters. While she initially preened a little bit under the attention, the novelty soon wore off. Not a single one of them believed her when she denied anything more scandalous than a simple friendship.
Alessa searched faces for a similarity to Elena and found none. Of course that made sense; she was looking for the father. In the court of Grand Prince Ivan, women didn't generally populate the same social circles as their husbands and sons; the scandalous ideas about women in the court brought from the now-defunct Byzantine Empire by Sophia Palaiologos weren't spreading very rapidly in her husband's realm. But these women still managed to perpetuate an entirely different sort of politics in their music rooms and at their teas.
It was subtle, the speculative gossip and the idle chatter, but Alessa was beginning to see how the women could affect their men in the actual governance of the people of Rus.
After bludgeoning her way through the conversational obstacles of Dino's prowess and Vasiliy's interest, Alessa would finally be able to get to her true reason for visiting with these people. She would latch onto any mention of her home country, comment on the distinct Italian architecture of the Kremlin walls, and state her desire of wanting to visit other buildings of similar design. From there it was usually simple to direct the conversation towards the architects themselves, the ladies, for all their interest in human affairs, didn't seem to know any current Italian architects.
Disappointed after the third or fourth visit, Alessa was beginning to idly speculate that Markku would have been damn useful to have along; he was good at this mingling with the ladies. Then again, as a man, he probably wouldn't have been allowed into the inner sanctum of the Russian female.
Either way, she wanted Markku and Tullio with her on the next mission.
And it wasn't because she missed them, either, dammit.
The visits took up most of her morning and afternoons. After that, Irina remained behind at the inn to field incoming social calls that were beginning to arrive at an alarming rate. The girl was enjoying her role; she loved the whole process of carrying out the deception. She was good a good little actress, too. She was naturally expressive, but she was in control of it – a feat Alessa had a hard time accomplishing.
Alessa was a little concerned; multiple letters had gone out to Elena with no response. She figured that the woman was out on a mission; she'd check at the convent when she had a precious bit of free time.
With Irina taking care of the headquarters, so to speak, Alessa and Dino would then go out on reconnaissance of an entirely different sort. They frequented dark taverns downriver, infiltrated the markets, fed wild stories to busy tradesmen, and entered a countless number of churches in their search for information. They got to know the streets of Moscow quite well in the days that passed.
Dino had two more fights. Short, vicious bouts that brought in more funds then they knew what to do with. Khiril was a diligent manager, and would have kept Dino fighting every night if it were possible.
Sometimes they went out as noblewoman and bodyguard to the more respectable gathering places; for the more questionable locales, they spent dangerous nights where only their wits and their skill kept them alive.
Alessa began to pick up the slang and the less refined speech of the peasants. Dino remained uncomfortable in his speaking Russian, but he was often able to pick up nuance that Alessa missed. So they became part of the crowd in the rapidly growing city. They listened, watched, and then gently prompted promising leads for more specific information that always ended up in a discouraging lack of resolution.
Alessa was exhausted at the end of each day – or night – and barely managed to keep up with her weapons drills and conditioning. Every night, as she worked to shut her mind off in the dark, she speculated on what the future might reveal. It was too soon to tell for sure; her body wasn't showing any physical changes and it had not even been three months since she had been in Roma.
She remembered the burdensome fatigue, the nausea… Snatches of memory from a period of time that seemed so distant from where she was now…
Ah, Cristu, she didn't want to think about it…
They settled into the rhythm of the city and finished customizing their clothing to better fit in with both climate and general populace. A tailor sympathetic to Dmitriy's thieves fitted them for the heavy leather dusters that many of the Wolves wore on missions. The overcoats allowed easier movement than the heavier furs but were still warm enough to actually be useful.
They replaced their linen and cotton Assassin hoods and trousers with heavier material in fur and wool. The materials were all of darker tones than she was used to, and she felt that the somber blacks and greys gave them a rather forbidding appearance. But no one seemed to notice and as most of their work was carried out in the darkness, it didn't make a difference either way.
And so their dress and mannerisms began to reflect less of their inherent Italian background and more the culture of the foreign land. It was perhaps that change, more than anything, that gave them their first hint of where to find their quarry.
Their informant, an inebriated miner at a random tavern, picked out her accent and likened it to that a priest he knew of that gave alms at one of the many monasteries that existed in the Moscow River valley. It was a frivolous statement, but after almost two weeks of nothing, they were prepared to check it out. Dino made sure the man was well set with drinks for the rest of the night, settled their tab with the barkeep, and the Assassins made their way out into the night.
Alessa Ricci
Preparations for a couple days travel out into the countryside were the work of nothing; hell, she and Dino had been expecting something of the sort and had had supplies ready from the beginning.
Alessa woke the morning of their planned departure feeling damn good; well rested, no injuries, free from the vague sense of nausea and unease that had plagued her for weeks. Maybe it had something to do with the beam of brilliant sunshine that had found its way past shutter and tapestry…
She got out of bed to investigate, flamboyantly throwing open the shutters.
Vasiliy's third snowfall had come in the night, leaving the world blanketed in purity and softening the blemish of human inhabitance on the land into a sort of idyllic splendor. It was the most view-altering weather phenomenon she had experienced thus far in her life.
Merda, but it covered everything; it evenly coated the bare branches of trees and the brilliance of white against green made the pines look like imaginary vegetation from one of Vasiliy's fairytales. It clung, as if by magic, to the smooth surfaces of the church domes. The sun reflected off of it all, almost brighter than the most cloudless of Roman summers. But whereas Roman sunlight was blindingly golden, this sunlight was so brilliantly white that everything seemed to take on a hue of blue.
Buoyed by the sunshine and her feeling of well-being, Alessa dressed rapidly, secured her room, and grabbed her pack in record time. She even hummed a bit as she traversed the back stairs, excited to get out into the decadent powder that looked so inviting from above.
She flung the back kitchen door of the inn open and took a clean, frigid breath, inhaling the feel of snow into her body. It burned like a potent, yet flawlessly smooth liquor burned, and she savored the almost metallic tang to the air – totally alien to her senses – and stepped eagerly out onto the top step that led down into the stableyard…
"Ma che cazzo!" she snarled, as she lost her balance and tumbled down a couple of the stairs, skidding about, sliding through a substance that was deeper than it had looked.
When her fall came to a stop, she leapt to her feet, face flaming, hoping to hell that no one had seen.
"Graceful," came the inevitable remark behind her.
"Go fall off a cliff, Dino," she grumbled, aiming for casualness as she retrieved her dropped kit and brushed off her leggings.
Fucking stuff was past knee deep, and the distance for her foot to fall had been deceiving. The wonder was gone, replaced with a feeling of inexplicable betrayal, and Alessa's movements turned brisk with annoyance as she tacked out her horse and climbed into the saddle.
Moskva was bustling; people were busily shoveling the snow into piles, clearing the streets with incredible efficiency. Alessa hadn't given a thought to how all the stuff built up; in some of the narrower streets, people had to actually cart it away.
Huh.
And, Dio, the sunlight. As they rode out of the city proper and onto a road recognizable only by the slight depression in a sea of white, she pulled her hood back. Who knew that after mysteriously bestowing such dubious bounty that Mother Nature could manage to muster up such sunlight that actually seemed to give off warmth in this environment.
And so the ride out to the isolated monastery was surprisingly pleasant, given the circumstances. The sun was cheerfully bright and gleamed off of the pristine landscape. At one point, she told herself that she wasn't complaining, because the sunshine was a welcome respite from the short days and grey skies, but it was almost too bright. Her eyes burned from having to constantly squint against the glare.
Finally, she just pulled her hood over her head to block the light; the strain on her eyes eased almost immediately.
They rode in companionable silence, and Alessa took the opportunity just to look, absorbing the images of the countryside for later; maybe she could paint it one day. Irina was safe back at the convent after hours of arguing. Alessa and Dino were finally going to get some answers – fuck you!, she warned the niggling thought that nagged this might yet be another dead end; it sounded suspiciously like Machiavelli – and she wouldn't have to deal with any court intrigue, nasty gambling dens, or dark alleys in the process.
After perhaps two hours of leisurely riding, the terrain dipped into a small valley. Its hills were heavily forested and Alessa immediately caught the glint of a single golden dome peeping from between the pinnacles of stark birch branches and soaring conifers. It was a picturesque scene; the little steep-roofed huts of the village dotting the landscape, everything made clean and elegant by the snow.
It was a well-to-do little community; the walls of the peasant's home were all freshly white-washed, some were even painted the pastel blues and greens common in the Moscow city proper. A raw patch in the side of one of the hills gave evidence to some of the town's wealth; a new mine.
The village was practically bustling; people were taking advantage of the sunshine to take care of errands that were undesirable to carry out in frigid near-darkness. Women in brightly colored head scarves and men in dark coats were turning the snow in the streets to slush as they went briskly about their business.
Alessa could see all this as she and Dino steered their horses down the gentle slope. They checked into an inn undergoing an expansion. Carpenters were busy at work, filling the main room with the sounds of good natured banter and energetic hammering. Dino and Alessa were able to secure a single remaining room. They stabled their horses and set out for their destination on foot.
They took the footpath heading straight for the monastery. A path was already worn through the snow; apparently the people here were pious as well as affluent. She worked up a bit of a sweat in the heavy overcoat and hood, but the sun wasn't so warm once they got under the trees. It wasn't as bright, either. Snow had drifted disproportionately given the combination of slope and abbreviated canopy cover. It piled nearly knee high in some places, but was entirely absent in others. The effect was eerie; the landscape appearing half-finished and forgotten.
The path, barely wide enough to allow the passage of a single wagon or sleigh, eventually opened up into a clearing that was dominated by the church of the monastery. The white limestone walls circumventing the compound were well made and unusually tall. The monks were also taking advantage of the pleasant weather and a couple of brown-cowled figures were distributing food and clothing from a side gate.
Alessa and Dino approached cautiously, trying not to appear suspicious as they loitered along the edge of the small crowd partaking of the alms being offered. Alessa approached one of the holy brothers as the last of the congregation departed and inclined her head respectfully,
"Dobriy dyen'," she said pleasantly, "I am visiting from Italia, and was informed that one of your brothers is from my native land. Tell me, is Messere Fiorivanti here?"
The young priest jumped slightly at her mention of the name. He gripped his empty basket closer to his chest and eyed her anxiously.
"I know of no one here by that name," he said, his even tone belying the nervousness in his darting gaze. The other monk, an older man, shifted away from them almost imperceptibly. Alessa lowered her tone and her hood, trying to make herself look harmless and naïve.
"I would just like to hear the sound of my language from a native speaker," she pleaded, "I am quite homesick, you see. And I have heard of the messere even back home, of the wonders he has built for the Grand Prince, if you would just…"
The second monk interrupted her,
"You are not wanted here, lady, leave."
"Erm," Alessa replied, startled by his rudeness. She felt Dino as a solid presence at her back, felt the shift of his body as he crossed his arms over his chest. The leather of his armor creaked in protest. She could practically see him glowering over her head. The reappearance of distress that made a transient appearance on the younger monk's face confirmed it.
Some of the people in the departing crowd had overheard the exchange and seemed to take offense with her inquiry. What was going on? Maybe her dress or her manner… or maybe it was just their obvious foreignness. Whatever it was, one of the men approached them, his stance aggressive as he planted himself in front of the monks.
He was a strapping peasant, muscles heavy from hard labor and his fists clenched threateningly at his side.
Alessa sighed to herself.
"You are agents of the Grand Prince," he shouted, drawing more attention.
"No, no" Alessa tried to soothe, "We just want to talk to Aristotele."
That apparently, was the wrong thing to say, for more people hissed insults,
"Vile murderers…"
"Traitors!"
Alarmed by the escalating agitation of the crowd, Alessa and Dino drew closer together. Dino's hand found the hilt of his sword and they backed away towards the sanctuary of the church.
"Agents of the false heir!"
"Heretics!"
What the hell…?
Dino drew his sword, keeping the crowd away from her as Alessa held her hands out non-threateningly, trying to keep the angry crowd from escalating into violence.
"Something's wrong," Alessa murmured to Dino as they backed hastily away from the increasingly perturbed peasants, crouching defensively, back to back.
"You think?" he snarked.
She ignored him and pitched her voice to carry, knowing that their target had to be listening at this point,
"Aristotele, we just want to talk. Please. We don't want to hurt anyone."
"As if we would trust a Templar!" came a reply from above. From the tone of the voice it was just a boy? Or maybe a female… Alessa squinted to make out the figure on the rooftop, one foot braced against the slope of the roof…
"Merda! It's her; get out of the open," Alessa yelped suddenly, dragging Dino closer to the front of the church, cutting off the angle of a shot.
"Her? Who?"
"Elena. What the hell is she doing here?" Alessa muttered to herself, trying to watch the edge of the roof for movement before raising her voice so that the unseen woman could hear her, "We're not Templars,"
"Pah!" Elena spat, her tone imminently scornful and utterly skeptical, "You're holding my sister hostage and now you've come for my master? And you think I'm going to let you?"
What? Were these people out here all crazy?
"Your sister is not a hostage and I don't want to fight you," Alessa finally replied, not really knowing what to think. She stepped out into the open, held her arms out to expose her chest, "So if you don't believe me, you'll have to kill… arrrgh!"
She was cut off mid-sentence when Dino shoved her from behind. She sprawled awkwardly, taken by total surprise. She barely caught her fall and at the impact, her forehead hit the frozen ground so that she saw stars. In the same moment she heard the sound of metal clanging on metal. But her attention was only attracted by the dull thunk of something weighted hitting the ground beside her head. She dazedly reached out for it: a throwing dagger.
With a curse, Dino scooped her up under an arm and bowled over the crowd of peasants, scattering them like startled birds. Slightly dazed, she heard a second rattle of metal on metal and he cursed again, this time more vehemently. He wrenched open the door to the church proper and hustled her into the dimness within.
"What happened?" she asked, once they had made it inside and he had barred the door. Only then did he dump her unceremoniously on the floor and awkwardly jerk a second throwing dagger out of his armor from a joint in his pauldron.
"Puttana," he snarled, flinging the dagger to the flagstone floor of the church. It clanged against the hard stone, startlingly loud in the hallowed calm of the church.
"Dino, what the hell?" she asked a little grumpily, getting to her feet.
"She almost killed you, you stupid…" he made an ugly noise, effectively cutting off whatever the rest of his phrase was going to be. Alessa felt her eyes narrow,
"What happened?"
"She almost got you with a fucking throwing knife, that's what happened," he snarled. Alessa cringed as his voice rang harshly in the quiet.
"Huh," was all she could vocalize as she thought furiously.
"That's all you have to say about it?" he asked incredulously, his big hands held out in front of him, expressive frustration making his fingers curl.
"I was calling her bluff. Guess she really thinks we're Templars. I wonder why…?"
Dino raised his hands, looking like he wanted to use them to throttle her. A muscle twitched in his jaw as his hands trembled and he ground out,
"You…"
They were distracted by the echoing clank of a door opening down the nave. Immediately, personal issues disappearing like, the Assassins turned as one to face the new threat. They split apart to find cover behind stone pillars, drawing their crossbows in unison.
"So you Templars have finally found me," came an elderly, patient voice in Russian, wheezing slightly. Alessa could hear the faint traces of an Italian accent, nearly gone.
"Not. Templars. Fucker." Dino bit out from between clenched teeth.
"… Aristotele?" she queried, pressing her crossbow to her chest and switching to Italian, acting on a growing suspicion, "We are Assassins. We have come at the behest of the Order to discover those responsible for Pietro Solari's death. Do you know anything about that?"
It was silent for a time. As she leaned against the shadowed side of the pillar, crossbow pressed to her chest, Alessa could faintly hear the crowd outside and she spared a moment to wonder where Elena had gone. Then Aristotele came forward out of the shadows at the altar.
He was an old man now, his body bent forward with age and the weight of responsibility. He wore a plain brown cowl and robes in exact replica of his paranoid brothers outside. The material was well worn, but clean. A wooden crucifix in the Orthodox style swung from his hip.
But for all the apparent humility, his eyes were fiercely cognizant, revealing an awareness that only experience could offer. Ezio had a similar weight and vitality in his eyes. It wasn't something that could be concealed or imitated.
Her hands shaking, Alessa lowered her crossbow and sheathed it, all the while resisting the urge to rush and pound the man for information. After all of the tension and uncertainty she and Dino had encountered since arriving in Moscow, they were nearly at the crux of a revelation. And now that it was before her, she wanted to arrive at that conclusion violently.
Taking a careful breath, she calmed herself, stepped out into the soft light of hundreds of candles, and made formal inquiry of the old man,
"I am looking for the murderer of Pietro Antonio Solari. I have reason to believe that might be you."
His shoulders slumped, but she got the impression that it was relief that prompted the motion. Not guilt.
Damn the luck. Damn it. Why couldn't they catch a fucking break? She wanted the murderer's head! So she could go home! And all she had was an old man who apparently was barely tied to the whole thing.
"I think this conversation should take place elsewhere, mi amici," Aristotele said, straightening up, his form seeming to become infused with new vigor, "There are things you need to know."
Oh.
Well maybe…
Alessa glanced at Dino, who was apparently still peeved about something, but he just shrugged. Not much help there.
As she opened her mouth to answer, a door behind Aristotele opened and slammed shut. Elena stalked in, her leather coat swirling about her calves as she planted herself in front of the old man.
"Get out!" she snarled, one hand on the pistol sheathed at her left hip.
"What's your fuu-, ah problem?" Alessa asked, bristling, holding back the explicative only in deference to the sanctified grounds. God, this bitch was really starting to get on her nerves. She activated her hidden blade almost unconsciously and stepped carefully forward, ignoring Dino's demand that she get back under cover.
The women faced off down the length of the nave, Alessa's hidden blade bristling, gleaming with the fresh oil she had used on it the night before. Elena's hand tightened on her pistol.
"My sister," the tall blonde growled, her other hand briefly touching the thankfully empty throwing knife bandolier crossing her chest, before reaching out to stab the forefinger directly at Alessa, "You have Irina! You–" her accusations were cut off as Dino slid silently out into the open from the shadows, crushing her against him in a bear hug, the press of his vambrace against her chest and the ominous splay of his fingers over her throat cutting off further accusations. Alessa straightened from her defensive crouch in surprise; she didn't think that she'd ever seen him move so quickly or silently.
"I've had about enough of you, tesora," he muttered darkly in Italian, his lips close to her ear as he purred the sentence in a tone Alessa had never heard out of him. The woman struggled ineffectually in his arms, absolutely unable to break his grip. Dino's face was hard as stone; Alessa had never seen him so pissed. The man was in a mood. And the inscrutable Elena, despite her lanky height and righteous fury, looked alarmingly frail in his grip.
"It looks like we need to start over," Aristotele said mildly, "If you would please, messere…" he said to Dino, who released the struggling Elena with not a small amount of reluctance. He bard his teeth at the woman in what Alessa supposed was a smile…
"Elena, please leave us, dorogaya," Aristotele said gently, speaking Russian in deference to her lack of fluency in Italian, "But do not go far, we will need to discuss this at length later on."
"Nastavink?" she protested, her vehemence dying under the force of his mild, but resolute look. She trembled visibly in the effort she made to restrain her rage, gave Alessa and Dino an alarming scowl, and then stalked from the room, her back as straight as a queen's.
The old man sighed and visibly relaxed,
"My apprentice," he explained, "Is not usually quite so… demonstrative."
"Probably because she's used to killing first and asking questions later," Dino grumbled.
"Should she have killed you first?" Aristotele asked, a faint tone of wryness in his voice as he gestured for them to follow him. Both Assassins trailed the old man deeper into the church, but remained visibly tense.
"We are here for answers," Dino replied, his big shoulders bunched with tension. Alessa suddenly resisted the urge to laugh like hell; everyone was so polite, yet so ready to kill one another. She thought she might burst from the strain. Aristotele stopped to regard them gravely,
"Then I am the one to give them to you. I swear on my life that you will have answers and safe passage. But in private; I have acquired many enemies over the years and one never knows who might overhear."
This time, the Assassins were able to relax slightly and Aristotele led them on. They passed the monk's quarters – the small, bare cells mostly empty of occupants. They reached a room at the junction of three hallways, situated so that it was just a bit larger than the rest. It contained it's own small hearth and a small table flanked by two chairs.
Aristotele sat with a relieved breath,
"I apologize for the starkness of my quarters. In my time, I would have been able to entertain you with all the hospitality that Italia is known for. But as you see, now I am but a humble monk."
"Who are you really?" Dino asked, pulling the second chair out for Alessa before leaning against the door jamb just behind her; his bulk would hinder anyone trying to enter the room.
"Isn't it obvious?" Aristotele asked, as he held up his left hand. Around the base of the ring finger was a familiar gnarl of scar tissue…
"You're an Assassin?" Dino blurted.
"I was sent here years ago," Aristotele said, "by the head of our Order, Mario Auditore."
"Auditore is dead, at the hands of the Templars," Dino informed him. Aristotele was not at all surprised and nodded sadly,
"I suspected as much. As I was already here in the Duchy of Moskva when Solari arrived, I was informed to watch over him, in secret. We worked side by side at times; he never knew we were of the same Order. It was his first time out on his own and the Grand Master wanted to be sure he was safe. I don't imagine Auditore shared my mission with anyone. And so my correspondence, when it is not intercepted, never seems to elicit any response. Who leads the Order now? Where is it headquartered?"
"Niccolò Machiavelli, La Volpe, and Ezio Auditore have been running the Order together in Roma," Alessa replied, still a little on edge giving out the information. But he had the brand; a member wasn't inducted into the Order lightly. Then again, brands could be mimicked… Ah, cazzo!…
"Roma…" Aristotele said, both in realization and inquiry.
"Si, Cesare Borgia attacked and destroyed the Auditore Villa going on two years ago now," Alessa said reflexively.
"A new Grand Master has not been elected yet," Dino went on as she drifted off into contemplative silence. Dino gave her a questioning look and she shrugged. Aristotele eyed them knowingly,
"You still don't trust, that is commendable, but maybe after I enlighten you on affairs in Moscow, you can lay your concerns to rest." He leaned back against his chair and steepled his hands, the expression on his face that of a man getting ready to tell a long tale, and trying to figure out where to start.
Alessa noticed that Dino, like herself, had leaned forward slightly in anticipation:
"Solari was sent for by Grand Prince Ivan, to build the walls and towers for his Kremlin. Solari was a newly inducted Assassin, and eager to work for the Order, as the young ones always are," here Aristotele gave them a fond smile, not indulgent, but more… yearning, a desire to be in their places. The curse of time: experience and knowledge gained even as the body weakened and youth was lost. Alessa, despite her intentions to listen to the whole story before deciding on truth, felt her heart softening towards the old man; there was such openness in his expression just then that she suddenly and instinctively trusted him. Inexplicably, she knew that he was one of them.
The moment, like most moments of serendipity, was fleeting. But the feeling remained and the atmosphere in the room settled into something more conducive to relaxation,
"I was sent correspondence prior to Solari's arrival, informing me to watch over him and give aid if needed. For the buildings, fantastic as they are, are not what he was sent here to build. The Assassin Order has always had difficulty getting firmly established in Moscow. Distance from the rest of Europe and the logistical difficulty that implies is just the beginning. You have the long winters… which hasn't even started yet, by the way… Not to mention that the lack of centralized government has made it hard for the people of Rus' to fight off invasions from the Khans; potential recruits have no time to embrace the enlightenment the Creed offers."
"So what happened?" asked Dino bluntly, "He's dead now. By foul play. Looks like you weren't able to do your job?"
"Patience, brother," Aristotele replied calmly, taking a moment to remove a crudely bound journal from a nearby shelf. He passed it to Alessa, who opened it to find political observations spanning almost two decades. As she scanned the notes, written in Italian, and Dino leaned over her shoulder to do the same, Aristotele continued,
"Ivan has done a remarkable job organizing his people and establishing rule over his newly acquired lands. And the Templars have done a remarkable job making him paranoid for conspirators. I don't believe they have revealed themselves to him, but I do know that two high ranking Templars are trusted members of his inner circle. I was unaware of their… affiliation… and they discovered who Solari was and killed him."
"Perfetto!" Dino exclaimed, "Now we kill them. I'm ready. Alessa's ready," he straightened from his lazy repose against the jamb and cracked his knuckles, "All we need are names."
"Not so simple, amico," Aristoele said, "Ivan is paranoid and looking for conspirators and assassins everywhere. Simply disposing of these Templars will not solve our problem."
"Which is?" Dino asked, getting up to pace, "And why?"
"Never compromise the Brotherhood," Aristotele quoted.
"A knife in a dark alley," Dino proposed, "No one has to get credit for the kill. Least of all the Assassins."
"True," Aristotele admitted, "But as to your second question: we need Ivan off our trail. The Templars have revealed the existence of our Order to him; it's how they justified Solari's death. Ivan is nothing if not jealous of his position; he worked hard to earn it and maintain it. He seeks us out, and his Templar boyars are his chief investigators. No, we have to give him another scent to follow so we can set up a solid presence within his city in the background."
"Sounds like you have this all figured out," Alessa prompted, giving Dino a warning look as she caught his expression going mulish.
"Simple when one doesn't have to tend to the details: First, discredit the Templar investigators. Second, distribute propaganda amongst the people and set up a false conspiracy for Ivan to go after. Third, remove the Templar agents and blame the fake organization. Like I said, easy."
"Why haven't you done anything then?" Dino asked, not bothering to hide his disdain and skepticism.
"You possess the energy and fire of youth, brother," Aristotele replied easily. He held out gnarled hands knotted with age, the tendons along the backs stood out starkly, "I am not so blessed as you; I am physically unable to carry out the mission. And Elena needs a team to aid her; she cannot do it alone. It is difficult enough for her to trust, much less bring in new people. And difficult for me just to train her, stuck as I am in the winter of my life," Aristotele admitted. A moment of thoughtful silence passed before he stood and went to his small fireplace, fiddling with the stones near the mantel…
He eased out a large stone and set it aside, revealing a small hidden space just large enough to hold the bundle of clothing and documents that he removed. He carried his mysterious objects to the table, setting them down and pulling out an ancient scrap of canvas, nearly rotted to pieces, with a crude symbol painted on it.
"The Strigolniki Sect," he explained, tapping the rune-like symbol with an arthritic forefinger, "Much of the controversy regarding the heir to the crown lies, as these things often do these days, in the how the heirs tolerate the minor religions of their land. Moscow is becoming no different in their treatment of the Jewish population than Their Catholic Majesties of Spain."
"So who are these… Strigolki?" Alessa ventured.
"Strigolniki," Aristotele corrected. Dino ignored them both; he was slowly pacing the room, reading Aristotele's journal.
"A Jewish sect?" Alessa guessed.
"Not initially, but many believe that they eventually merged with the Sect of Skhariya the Jew, a current thorn in Ivan's side," Aristotele confirmed, "But most believe that they were completely eradicated, I might add. Over a century ago. Many horrible things were attributed to the group: deadly riots, murders, bribery, blackmail… People feel that Skhariya's sect will do the same things and are expecting the chaos to return. Dmitriy and his young wife support the sect and for that reason are losing favor with the people and the court. Vasiliy is very devout in the Orthodox Church and as such is more popular."
"What doctrines did they follow?" Alessa asked, more curious than anything.
"They wished to abolish the hierarchal order of the church. They denounced communion, repentance, baptisms, and other ceremonial aspects of the current theology."
"No wonder they were hated so; why would they want to abolish so much of the ceremony that brings comfort to the parishioners? That's the reason religion exists."
"The exorbitant fees mainly. And then the corruption, hypocrisy, and reprehensible actions of some members of the priesthood."
"Ah," Alessa said, comprehending it at once; she had to look no further than Pope Alexander and 'Cardinal' Cesare Borgia for an example of such things within the Catholic Church. Looked like the abuse of power manifested the same way anywhere, no matter the culture that was ruled by it.
"So what does a failed group of do-gooders have to do with us?" Dino asked suddenly, causing Alessa to jump.
"They may have failed in their efforts," Aristotele intoned, "But their ideas are basically the same as our own: free-thinking citizens attempting to remove despots."
Dino grunted,
"Always corruption in politics. There's too much temptation. The only thing people can do is follow the lesser of two evils."
"And a lock on a door does nothing but keep and honest man honest," Aristotele agreed, "You are correct, it is human nature to be drawn towards the evil we all carry within ourselves. It's easier that way – no pesky moral dilemmas to agonize over. But could you live with yourself if you allowed it to happen when you could stop it? For that is what the Assassin Order is all about. To aid and encourage people to rise above that. And to assist leadership that supports the advancement of it's people's minds."
"Is that what we're doing, in reviving an exterminated religious faction?" Alessa asked.
"Imitating them," Aristotele corrected. "And Ivan is not a bad leader; he has stabilized the government, protected his people from the marauding Khans, allowed them time to know a small bit of peace that has been fleeting for centuries. The danger is in allowing the Templars to continue to influence him."
"So what is the plan exactly?" asked Dino, setting the journal onto the table and crossing his arms over his chest, looking very intent.
"The Templar agents – the heads of the Shuisky and Belsky families – are looking for Assassins, encouraging Ivan to look for Assassins. Instead, we will imitate the existence of the Strigolniki; show Ivan the symptoms of an uprising that could threaten the stability of his government. It will discredit his Templar advisors; that they allowed something this momentous to occur right under Ivan's nose in his own city while he is out chasing ghosts." A sardonic smile creased the old man's features.
"Except these ghosts are real," Dino murmured.
They were all silent for a time as Alessa and Dino digested the scenario.
"If it's done right," Alessa said slowly, envisioning how everything would unfold, "We can go in, assassinate the Templars, and blame everything on the non-existent sect."
"Yes, exactly! It will not take long; the city is already restless, what with Dmitriy the Grandson and Vasiliy the Third vying for the title of heir. We will simply lay the spark to tinder that is already amassed."
It had gotten late in the time they had spent with Aristotele. The old man noticed when Dino's stomach rumbled in the thoughtful silence and he chuckled.
"I think it's enough for today. I've given you enough to think over, eh? Let me tell you quickly about my contacts, people I trust, who can aid you. Mind, they are obviously not privy the existence of the Order, but you can trust them not to go around wagging their tongues."
He instructed them on the names and locations of a blacksmith, the Madame of a brothel, and a banker. Alessa hadn't heard of the blacksmith. But the latter two people she already knew about:
"I have heard of La Rosa from one of the girls, Talya. And the banker you recommended is the one we are currently using, recommended by one of Nikolai Zakharyin-Yuriev's attendants."
"Have you met Nikolai?" Aristoele asked, having gone still at her mention of the name.
"No, it's been a real bastard trying to figure these families out. They're all related, it seems, and the little factions seem to shift every day. And the women are so segregated from the men; I think I would cause an uproar trying to meet any of the men," Alessa said, a little grumpily.
Well, it was frustrating, dammit; she was used to talking to whomever she pleased regardless of sociably acceptable norms.
"Unless that man is il Principe," Dino said, his tone rife with innuendo. Alessa gave him an exasperated glance.
"What prince?" Aristoele asked, his voice sharp.
"Uh, Vasiliy," Alessa replied, worried. But she need not have, for the old Assassin's expression slackened in relief. And then he began to chuckle,
"Well done! You've gotten into the good graces of the prince? He is likely to win the position of heir, you know."
"Well, I…" Alessa stammered, absurdly pleased by Aristotele's approval.
"How did you do it?" the old man asked. Dino laughed,
"She seduced him into a dark hallway and then drugged him. He's been smitten ever since."
Aristotele chortled as Alessa glared at Dino, who shrugged,
"Well, that's what happened, don't look at me like that."
"I think you had better tell me everything," Aristotele said, still wheezing with mirth. Alessa and Dino complied. It was a relief to discuss the events with someone freely, instead of trying to remember who knew what about their real and their cover personas.
"My brother, my sister," Aristotele said when they had finished, "I hardly know where to go from here. Let's call it a night for now. I will send a message to my ally in the city. You will meet with him. And it seems that you already know of him – he is the Nikolai you mentioned earlier. His family has supported the Assassins for many years."
Ignoring Dino and Alessa's startled silence, the old man continued, handing over the bundle containing the Strigolniki effects he had prepared for setting up the conspiracy, "He will help you get started on the plan, provide you access to the palaces, and provide you with any equipment you might yet need. Contact him through the Madame at V'rosla."
"You won't come?" Alessa asked, hiding a grin at the Russian equivalent of La Rosa.
"I cannot,"Aristotele said ruefully, "My face is known to the Grand Prince and his Templar agents. I staged my death with the help of Nikolai many years ago, after Pietro was murdered and I was framed for it. If I were discovered in Moskva, the Templars would have evidence of the Assassin Order to present to the Grand Prince."
"What about your Elena?" Dino asked, "Will she be able to work with us or not?"
"I will explain the situation to her and send her back to the convent. You may contact her there."
"Tell her to keep her knives to herself," Alessa grumbled, "And her pistols aimed elsewhere. I don't fancy being shot or stabbed."
"It was not Elena who shot Dino that night," Aristotele admonished, "She would have told me about it."
Alessa and Dino made identical, noncommittal sounds; neither was able to accept that answer yet, but they kept their own counsel. Aristotele was not fooled; he lowered his chin briefly in understanding, but his expression informed them in no uncertain terms that he fully trusted his apprentice.
As Alessa stood to gather her coat, her sleeve fell back a bit and her hidden blade flashed from within its vambrace. Aristotele's expression went unreadable, and then tense with mild desire,
"May I?" he asked, almost timidly, gesturing to her forearm.
"Of course," Alessa deferred, removing her right blade with its poison attachment and handing it over.
"Squisito," he murmured, brushing reverent fingers over the complex mechanism hidden in the vambrace, "I never worked 'in the field' so to speak; I've worked in more of intelligence position for the Order. So I never received a hidden blade. Not to mention that they are difficult to make and thus have been very rare in my time; most blades were passed on from master to apprentice, or father to son. You must have a master craftsman making them these days."
He returned the weapon to her and then looked her and Dino over with an appraising eye.
"Be careful, mi amici, this land is not as civilized as Italia. The cold is deadly; what you've seen so far has been mild. And you haven't even seen snow yet. Winter is as implacable and heartless an enemy as the Templars. Perhaps even more so; Nature has no concept of mercy. The wilderness is barely held at bay by Moskva and her river fortress. Civilization is still a thin veneer here."
Alessa initially dismissed the dramatic statement and she made a noncommittal sound of agreement in deference to the man's age and experience.
But later, after they had taken their leave and their horses plunged through the drifting snow, obviously anxious to return to the warmth of the stables, Alessa had a chill of foreboding totally unrelated to the frigid air.
All this talk of cold and snow; like what was on the ground already wasn't enough. She huddled deeper into her coat and surreptitiously moved closer to Dino, seeking the comfort of his warmth and the security rendered by his proximity. She relaxed.
With him, she was invincible.
Historical Trivia:
Seriously, this period of Russian history is a BITCH to find info on. Basically just blah, blah… fighting the Mongols, blah, blah… lots of land… blah, blah. You don't see much until Ivan the Terrible comes around (Vitaliy's son). But I will tell you this: the Rurik line of princes were way dysfunctional. Basically brother imprisoned (or worse) brother so that they couldn't create potential heirs to the throne. Vasiliy, after beating Dmitriy to the throne, imprisoned or exiled all of his brothers after he came to power. The systematic pruning of the family tree wasn't exactly the best of ideas; after Ivan the Terrible died, Tsars of the Rurik line were hard to come by or had major defects. And so the Romanovs came to power in 1613.
There are seven hills in Moscow. Yup, that's right, seven. One of the other reasons Ivan the Great figured that Moscow was the heir to Rome's glory. Huh. The Kremlin is built on a hill that was called Borovitsky, names for the heavily forest terrain that used to occupy it. Nowadays it's called Kremlin Hill. More on that next chapter.
Aristotele's statement about Russian winters was inspired by Napolean's defeat in 1812. Then Hitler sent his troops out there in WWII with similar disastrous results. Looks like someone didn't read up on his history. I guess you just can't beat the Ruskiys when it comes to cold weather warfare.