Part Two: A Good Life We Lead...
They had supped early, cleaning out the food and most especially the wine; a post-Christmas celebration. Ezio Auditore da Firenze himself was only slightly drunk; he had learned the hard way (and several times over) via his brother Frederico that starting a fight when drunk never turned out the way he wanted it, and it only left bruises on top of the hangover the next morning. Besides, watching drunks was far more entertaining, he was discovering, and fighting them was even more fun.
The crowd of his friends was about ready to burst, and Ezio thought it only appropriate to give them a target fitting their built up energy. "We stand together!" he shouted, pumping his fist in the air, his audience happily following suit and cheering. A few swayed on their feet, and one or two were topping off the last of the wine bottles. Enthusiasm swept over them and Ezio was only too happy to continue with his motivating speech.
"Do you know what brings us here tonight?" he demanded, a bright grin on his face as anticipation began to fill him. "Honor!" he shouted, generating even more wails and hoopla from his friends. "Vieri de' Pazzi slanders my family's name and forces his own miseries upon us," Ezio explained. He knew details would fly over everyone's heads, and he himself did not understand why the Pazzi hated his family so. What did the Auditore have to do with Vieri's father's arrest? It must simply be contempt, and Ezio was more than happy to fuel a harmless rivalry. It wasn't as if Vieri was any competition to begin with. His friends were shouting again, and Ezio raised his hands to calm them and help point them in the right direction. "If we-"
"Enough of your nonsense, idiot!"
Ezio turned to see Vieri de' Pazzi with his own gaggle of friends, the other young man's face twisted in contempt and hatred. Ezio was unconcerned; he even offered a cordial greeting.
"Buona sera, Vieri," he said amiably, grinning to his friends who snickered and snorted. "We were just talking about you," he added before he threw in his dig, "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought the Pazzi hired others to do their dirty work." When in doubt, insult male pride and the fight would eventually start. Ezio was curious to see how long it would take, or if it would just be an evening of posturing. That prospect was boring, however, and he hoped for a more favorable outcome.
"It's your family that cries for the guards when there's trouble, coward!" Vieri spat from the other side of the bridge, stepping forward in anger. The insult to Ezio's own male pride was a nice attempt, but it simply couldn't affect Ezio. A harmless street fight was one thing; he would never, however, let it turn into something vicious. Vieri saw the lack of reaction and pushed further. "Afraid to handle things yourself?"
Oh, now that was just asking for it.
Ezio put on a suave, lecherous smile and turned to his friends. Those still clinging to the last dregs of sobriety saw where this was going and were already laughing. And so he turned to Vieri and made a broad, welcoming gesture.
"Your sister seemed quite satisfied with the 'handling' I gave her earlier," he happily said.
If male pride would not raise a fight, then family chastity always did.
Vieri's beady eyes just about tripled in size, and he shook so badly as Ezio's crowd burst out in laughter that the young Florentine thought the other man would tip over.
"Kill him!" Vieri shouted, spittle flying out of his mouth. His fist produced a rock (A rock! A cheap and dirty gamut!) and threw it towards Ezio and the crowds. The early evening sun blinded the young nobleman enough that he could not track the trajectory, and suddenly pain exploded in his mouth as the rock collided with his jaw. He saw blood splatter onto this embroidered vest, and the hand that had instinctively gone to hold his jaw came back with more of the red fluid.
It was all the prompting anyone on either side needed, and the pain drove Ezio forward, faster than his friends, to participate in the fight. The first Pazzi supporter he found was leveled with a vicious punch to the jaw followed by a kick to the groin. If Vieri wasn't going to fight honorably, then neither would Ezio! The seventeen-year-old pushed his way through two friends, grabbing the doublet of another supporter and landing three swift punches into his opponent's gut, expelling all air out of his lungs and more importantly, sending the poor man doubling over. Ezio happily let the man try to breathe in his knee as he rammed it up the supporter's face, sending him spinning to the ground. A third man grabbed at Ezio's sleeve but Ezio twisted out of the grip, some of his lace ripping, before landing a quick uppercut holy shit this kid can fight and another fist to the gut.
Few men were standing by that point - on either side; proof that drunks made poor fighters, and Ezio mourned his friends' lumps and hangovers the next morning. But not too much.
"Hey!" a voice called from behind, and Ezio turned to see the dark locks of his brother jogging through the melee.
"Frederico!" he cried out happily, the buzz of adrenaline and wine and the joy of seeing his brother overtaking him. "What are you doing here?"
Three years older, Frederico was a much better fighter than Ezio and told many a fine tale of his exploits of physical altercations - from both men and women, and always made the young Florentine smile. Frederico had taken to tutoring Ezio in his ways, and while Ezio knew he had a long way to go, he also knew that he couldn't have a better teacher.
The twenty-year old smiled, easily dodging a Pazzi supporter and ramming his head into the rails of the bridge. One day, Ezio would do that just as easily. "I wanted to see if baby brother had finally learned how to fight!" he said heartily. He crossed his arms, as if waiting for a demonstration.
Ezio was only too happy to oblige as a Pazzi tried to rush him. Ezio countered with a clean headbutt followed by a kick to the face, sending the supporter flying. "And?" he asked with a bright smile on his face.
Frederico snorted. "You have style," he said with an appreciative smile. His eyes caught something behind Ezio and his face turned serious. "But endurance is what counts. Let's see how many of them you can ruin before they get the best of you."
Ezio turned, seeing a new throng of Pazzi supporters rounding the corner and joining them on the bridge. Reinforcements? Stupid cowardly Pazzi! This wasn't a fair fight. Ezio turned to see his own friends either on the ground or disappeared, probably having thought the fight was over or off to lick their wounds. That left only Frederico and himself to fight off the crowd approaching them. He looked to his brother and the pair shared a look.
And they grinned.
"A simple little brawl," Ezio said, grinning through the blood running down his chin.
"Nothing we can't handle," Frederico agreed, smiling.
And the two had the time of their lives, adrenaline pushing them through the crowd and technique shining as they overpowered the six newcomers and beat them deftly to the ground.
Vieri, who had of course not participated in the fighting, was backing up in terror as Ezio finished his last brigand and began to advance, determined to repay the injury to his jaw with interest. Frederico stepped in front of him quickly.
"Hold on," he said quickly.
"What?" Ezio demanded, incensed. "We've almost won this!"
But his brother was looking with focus on Ezio's jaw, a hand almost reaching up to touch it. "Your lip..."
The young Florentine put a hand to his jaw again, sore and throbbing, and pulled away to see the bleeding had not yet stopped. Every stretch of his mouth hurt, but bravado quickly took over. "Just a scratch," he said, waving it off.
Frederico's mouth thinned, and his eyes changed. "Let a doctor decide."
"Since when did you care about doctors?" Ezio demanded, grinning through the pain, "I distinctly remember a time you fought - how many was it? - Seven brigands - All alone and came out on top with only a black eye and then went cavorting with one of your girlfriends an hour later. There was no doctor then!"
"Brothers are supposed to look out for each other," Frederico said, still eying the injury.
Ezio squirmed out of his brother's grip. "It's not necessary," he insisted. "Besides, I've no money for this doctor of yours."
At this the calculating look disappeared with a wry grin. "Wasted it on women and wine, huh?"
Ezio scoffed. "I'd hardly call it 'wasted'..." He attempted lecherous smile, but it pulled at his split lip too much and he winced instead. Frederico made a face and the little brother was forced to capitulate. "Lend me some florins then..." he said, holding out a hand. The twenty-year-old hesitated, and Ezio could only give a one-sided grin. "Or have you done the same?" he suggested.
They both laughed.
Frederico gestured to the groaning bodies at their feet. "Search them. There's bound to be something in their pockets."
"Thievery?" Ezio said with put on airs. "I'm shocked that my big brother endorses such scandalous behavior."
"Says the baby brother who just spent the last hour deliberately starting a fight," Frederico retorted. "Besides, to the victor go the spoils."
"In this we agree!" And Ezio quickly bent over one of the Pazzi supporters and searched his pockets, Frederico doing the same. The coin was pitiful, proof that the Pazzi didn't do a good job in buying off their friends, but they eventually were able to scramble together enough money. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off as well, and Ezio's jaw began to hurt something fierce.
"Va bene," Frederico said, counting up their spoils. "That should be enough. Let's get out of here before the guards actually show up..." The sun was hanging lower and lower in the sky, the day shift was almost over, and the night guards all knew the Auditore brothers by sight and by name. "The sooner we can go to the doctor, the sooner we can sleep."
"Sleep?" Ezio declaimed. "The night is young!"
"Hah, speak for yourself," Frederico said, making a show of yawning. "I had a full day of work at the bank, if I had to stare at any more columns of numbers and do any more calculations I'm certain my head would burst." The pair crossed the bridge and began making their way through the evening streets; many of the food merchants and other vendors were either packing up or seeking out one last customer or transaction as the crowds thinned and returned to their homes.
"Life is so boring at the bank," Ezio said, nodding sagely. "I fall asleep just watching you. I'll never understand how Father can enjoy it so much that he'll get up at all hours of the night to do even more work there."
"Oh, banking can be quite exciting when Father's involved," Frederico said magnanimously, a knowing grin on his face.
"And what does that mean?"
"I'll tell you when you're older," Frederico said in a coy voice, patting his brother on the shoulder.
"I'm seventeen. Isn't that old enough?"
"Not in the slightest. Wait until you're twenty."
Ezio pouted. "You always say that."
"Ah, but this little morsel isn't mine to give. Father will tell you when you're twenty, just as he did me."
That caused a pause in Ezio, his stride slowing as he looked at his brother. "You mean there really is a reason he gets up at all hours and rides off to the other cities?"
Frederico gave Ezio a long, measured, serious stare.
And then he burst out laughing.
"You are so easy to fool, baby brother!"
Ezio pouted until his split lip reminded him where they were going, and settled for scowling. The rest of the walk was spent that way, Ezio sullen while Frederico let him have his pout. They eventually entered into a small square, and Frederico darted forward a few paces to a stand that had not yet closed.
"Ben trovato, doctor!" he said brightly.
The doctor, dressed in wax coated clothes and beaked mask against the Black Death, turned to see the pair strolling up to him. Ezio could hear a prolonged groan. "The Auditore brothers," he said, "Why am I not surprised?" Frederico stepped aside, unhurt as he was, and the doctor saw immediately the problem, a hand snapping gently to Ezio's face. "You've made quite a mess of yourself," he muttered.
"It's nothing, really," Ezio muttered, still sour.
Frederico did not help matters. "You must help him," he said, clasping his hands together in a pleading gesture. "His pretty face is his only asset."
"Fottiti," Ezio growled. His brother only laughed at the vulgar curse.
"This is going to need stitches," the doctor muttered, "And will leave a scar."
That made both brothers pause. "What?" they asked in unison.
"I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner," the doctor said, pulling out a small roll of cloth and dipping it in something, going first to Ezio's brow, and the stinging sensation made the young man realize he had more than just a split lip to worry about. "Sit on the table," he said, "This will take a while." A candle was lit and a needle held over it, and the brothers shared an apprehensive look as they realized how serious Ezio's injury actually was. Frederico gripped his brother's arm as Ezio endured the stitching, hissing on occasion but fighting to keep himself still and pliant to the doctors ministrations.
"There we are," he said after an hour's worth of work. Ezio worked his jaw in experiment. It was a little numb from whatever the doctor had given him, but the pain was utterly gone. "Now get out of here."
"Grazie," Ezio said, appreciative for the help.
"Quite a night," Frederico said as they crossed the square, the last of the evening torches being lit. He eyed his brother in worry, and Ezio was determined to erase that kind of look.
"Indeed," he said broadly, shrugging his shoulders. "I only wish they were all this much fun. Oh. Wait," he added with theatrical thought. "They are!"
Frederico chuckled, and Ezio preened at his victory.
"We should head home," the older brother said, stretching his arms over his head. "Father's sure to be wondering where we've gone."
Bleh, no doubt pacing the villa and planning just what he was going to say to his two sons. "Yes," Ezio moaned. "And I'd rather avoid a lecture." He winced at the very thought.
The twenty-year-old gave a sympathetic smile, having been on the receiving end on his own list of lectures. "Up for a little race, then?" he asked.
"To where?"
"Eh..." he drew out, looking around. "The roof of that church." He pointed across the square to the Santa Trinita church. "On the count of three: One, two, three!"
And without any warning Frederico was off, leaping up a series of crates and then nimbly climbing up an arched window, earning a female shriek as he passed. Ezio, now well behind, took a different route, instead racing at full speed to the church his brother had pointed out and inside the haloed walls. He oriented himself briefly before dashing down the isle of pews, a wide grin on his face, and circled round behind the alter to the back halls, finding the choir staircase and running up them at full tilt before bounding through a roof access.
Frederico was already there and waiting. "Baby brother still has much to learn," he said easily.
"How do you do that?" Ezio asked, but his brother only laughed.
"Come on then, this way," he said, gesturing to the bell tower.
"Where are you going?"
"You'll see."
And Frederico darted up the tower, leaving Ezio to stumble after him. His older brother called down suggestions on how to find handholds and footholds, what kinds of cracks were useful and what kinds were dangerous, and soon the pair had made the ascent. Frederico reached down and helped haul his brother up the last several feet, Ezio's arms burning from the new experience.
The entire city of Firenze lay out before them, Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore and the Giotto's Campanile of course dominating the skyline to the north, the dome and tower recognizable for anywhere in the valley as was the clock tower of the Palazzo della Signoria to the east. Below the nightlife had begun to wake, small lights akin to fireflies flitting about as the stars spread out above them in all their glory. The moon had just crested the Senese Clavey Hills, beginning its climb and reflecting off the Arno River to the south, where their most recent adventure had taken place. It was the most beautiful city in the world, and Ezio and Frederico were atop it, gazing down at its perfection and admiring its beauty.
"It is a good life we lead, brother," Frederico said, looking out over the sites, content.
Ezio sighed in happiness. "The best," he answered. "May it never change."
The two brothers stood together, admiring the view, for a long time.
"And may it never change us," Frederico said, looping his arm around Ezio's shoulders. An eagle passed their line of vision, and all Ezio could think was how perfect everything was. Just perfect.
"Alright, enough of that. We really should get home. Let's go."
"Wait," Ezio said, grabbing his brother's arm. This night was too perfect, he didn't want it to end, and he knew just how the next chapter of this perfection should open. He threw a conspiratorial look over the rooftops, down to a particular alley and a particular house - more specifically a particular window.
"Ezio," Frederico said, a scold in his voice. "Let Cristina sleep."
The young Florentine grinned. "There will be time enough for that," he drew out, before adding with a grin, "Later."
"Ah," his brother said, waving a dismissive hand. "You're on your own then. I'd rather get my lecture from Father over with and go to bed."
"Already you've become a lazy old man!"
"And you have yet to grow up. Wait until you're twenty!"
"You'll still be three years older," Ezio said, "And I'll still be younger."
The pair left the church, Frederico showing Ezio how he had made his climb (and had subsequently beaten his brother) before they parted ways and Ezio moved energetically to his next stop, a grin splitting his face and pulling at his sore lip, but he could not contain it. After a brisk fifteen-minute walk he was under the window he wanted.
"Cristina!" he called up in a quiet voice that he hoped would somehow carry. "Cristina!"
The window opened, thankfully. A brunette with the most captivating eyes stuck her head out, looking down. "Who's there?"
"Me!"
"Oh, Ezio. I should have known!" She gazed down at him from above.
"May I come in?" he asked with a grin.
She took her time answering, running fingers through her hair, and for a moment Ezio thought his perfect night might not be so perfect, but finally she said, "Fine. But only for a minute."
Enthusiasm filled the young Florentine. "A minute is all I need!"
There was a delicate snort from above. "Indeed?"
Confused at first Ezio realized how his last words must have sounded, and he awkwardly started to backtrack.
"W-wait. Eh, that came out wrong." Why did Cristina always, always, make him say the wrong thing? Even Frederico was never this flummoxed when he met a girl, and yet somehow Cristina Vespucci always managed to leave Ezio a little tongue-tied, a little nervous, a lot embarrassed, and always dumbstruck. Looking left and right, he assessed the wall below his love's window and decided it would serve all the tricks his brother had just taught him. He climbed up, slipping here and there, before cresting the window and surprising Cristina, still in only her nightgown - she had not had time to put on a robe.
But then, Ezio didn't plan on the nightgown staying on, long either, and it wasn't long before he crushed his lips onto hers - only to pull back in a hiss.
"Ezio?" the girl asked, before grabbing a candle and lifting up to his face. "Oh Blessed Mother, Ezio, what were you doing?"
"Defending my honor," he muttered, sullen that his romantic mood had been ruined.
"You'll have to tell me all about it," Cristina said, fingering the injury delicately with long, beautiful fingers. Ezio grabbed them and pressed his mouth into her palm, prepared for the sting this time.
"You see," he said slowly, "There was this Pazzi..." He kissed the crook of her elbow gently, and then licked it, sending a shiver up her arm. "And he was insulting my honor." He kissed higher this time, on her shoulder. It was open-mouthed, and he sucked slightly, as his lips would allow, and traced his teeth over the perfectly soft skin. "He threw a rock." And he kissed her neck this time; long, lingering, and as he did so she moaned, and he traced his hands to her shoulders, slipping the nightgown off. Only then did he pull back to admire the view.
Better.
Much better.
And then he holy shit can we fast forward this or something?
"What, you've never seen porn before?" Shaun asked.
"Aw, he has principals! That's sweet," Rebecca cooed. "Hot, even, don't you think Lucy?"
"Oh, sure, as hundreds, thousands of years of masculine pride squandered on such a measly specimen as one 'Desmond Miles.' Are we sure this is his ancestor?"
Desmond growled. "Can we move on, please, before this gets any worse?"
"Yes, yes, let the catering begin. I really don't see what the problem - Oh, dear. You're a man after all."
"Any time now!"
"Sorry, Desmond," Rebecca said quickly, realizing what had happened, "it should be loading now."
"Cristina. Cristina! Wake up, your tutor will be here soon!"
Shit.
"Come, my daughter... is it really so terrible-"
The door opened and the brunette's father entered the room to see Ezio, naked, struggling to throw on his pants and his shirt at the same time, as Cristina, also naked was reaching desperately for her nightgown.
"Figlio d'un cane!" he cursed. "What is this?"
Retreat!
"Forgive me sir! I beg your pardon!" Ezio said quickly, his vest still only half on as he stumbled to the window. This was decidedly not how he wanted to meet Cristina's father, and now, now...
"I'll kill you!"
Now he made a bad first impression. Oh, he would have to spin this very carefully to curry favor. He held his hands up, placating even as he stepped further and further backwards.
"Now, now; that's not necessary..."
"Guards! Guards! Bring me his head!"
Ah, this was exhilarating and humiliating at the same time. He hopped out the window, grabbing the handholds he'd used the previous night and half-climbed, half-fell down to the street, running down the alley at full tilt. He burst into the street, buttoning himself up as he went and ignoring the occasional voice commenting on his state of undress or laughing at his retreat. He ran for a full twenty minutes before he felt safe enough to slow down.
And when he did. He laughed.
It was a perfect night. And today would be the perfect day. It was the perfect life.
Sighing in contentment, he made his way home to the villa Auditore.
The inner courtyard of the villa was full of people, as it was every morning, and Ezio could see his mother flitting about from one cluster of people to the next as they bought bread and rolls. She loved the bakery she opened, loved talking to the people, loved giving to the community.
"Good morning, Mother!"
"Good morning, son," she said, whisking by him to a mother and three children. "Your father is looking for you. After that, come see me, would you? I'll need your help after the bakery closes."
"I understand, Mother," he said, weaving his way through the crowd. He eventually navigated himself inside and through the halls. Frederico would be sleeping late, no doubt - lazy old man that he had become - but he wanted to see his other two siblings before going to work for his father (and put off the lecture he was certain to face).
His first stop was to Petruccio's room, he snuck in on almost silent boots, light streaming in gently from the drawn curtains and giving enough dim light that Ezio could make his way about the room.
Petruccio was the youngest of the Auditore clan. Frederico claimed he remembered all his siblings' birth, but Ezio was only a year and a half when Claudia was born, and so the only birth he remembered was Petruccio's. At four, he remembered not liking all the screams his mother made, and he remembered clutching his brother Frederico tightly as they waited in the hall for the birth to finish. Everyone involved said it was a natural part of birth, but at four Ezio could sense it was a difficult labor. This was supported by his seven-year-old-brother's tight face as the midwives kept calling for more towels. The night of the birth had their father pacing about, calling for doctors and surgeons both.
When the two brothers could finally welcome the new addition, Frederico had said - quite firmly - that the new baby was too small; even Claudia had not been that small and she was a girl. Their father's face was as tight as Frederico's, and he said that the two would have to be strong for him.
Growing up with a sickly brother had taught Ezio many things, and he made a point every morning to check on his little brother, now thirteen but still looking ten. The boy's dark locks hid most of his face, but his breathing was even, and Ezio breathed a small sigh of relief. The feather box that Petruccio had taken to carrying with him lay open by his bed, and Ezio closed it and pulled the sheets up to the boy's chin, running his fingers through his baby brother's hair. Petruccio stirred slightly before drifting off again, and Ezio smiled.
He left as quietly as he had come, and made his way down the halls to look for his sister.
He was surprised to hear sniffles, and his heavy steps quickened as he turned a corner, finding Claudia sitting under a window and clutching a handkerchief.
"Hey, piccina. How are you?"
His fifteen-year-old sister looked up, startled, and quickly turned away; but not before Ezio saw the tears. He sat down on the bench beside her.
"Bene..." she said in a watery voice, still looking away.
Ezio pursed his lips. "You shouldn't keep things from me," he said, coaxing her to turn and face him. Her cheeks were bright pink and wet, nose almost red from crying. Her sadness was forgotten temporarily as she looked at him in horror, and when a hand reached up to his chin Ezio realized his stitches were going to get a reaction for days. He cursed the doctor.
"It's nothing," he said gently, pulling her hand back down and holding it. "A scratch over honor. You should see the others," he added with a hopeful grin.
But Claudia burst into a fresh wave of tears, and Ezio quickly pulled her into an embrace, letting his shoulder get damp as the emotions swept over her. Claudia was the only girl of the children, and both he and Frederico took their roles as big brothers very seriously - and while everyone looked after Petruccio, the two had made it perfectly clear that they looked out for their "piccini," their "little one." Their mother often moaned at their influence over her, but when push came to shove, no one, no one, made her cry.
"It's Duccio," she finally mumbled into his shoulder, pulling away to wipe her face again.
Her fiancé made her cry? Ezio stifled a growl. "What of him?" he asked carefully.
"He's been... unfaithful."
Bastard. Bastard! Adrenaline was already filling Ezio. "Who told you this?" he demanded.
"The other girls," Claudia replied, wiping her eyes. "They were telling me what a good catch I had, how satisfying he was. I thought they were my friends!"
"Harpies!" Ezio said quickly, waving them off with a dismissive hand. "You're better off without them. If they can't hold their legs together they have no business talking to ladies of honor like you."
"I thought I'd finally found someone who'd have me. Father was so proud. I know how difficult I am, I wouldn't end up a spinster with Duccio," his sister whimpered. "I loved him for that."
"No, Claudia," Ezio pressed. "You only thought you did." He put a hand to her knee and kissed her forehead, holding her. "You were grateful, and you thought that was love. Don't worry, we'll find you a husband yet, one that loves you. You, and no one else."
They sat together under the window, Ezio still holding his sister, the morning sun streaming patterns on the floor. Claudia was still young, only fifteen; her two older brother's influence and her age made her a maelstrom of emotion and made her difficult to marry. She had not yet grown into herself, and she confused moods for emotions. Duccio, willing to tolerate her temperament for her dowry, was like a gift from Heaven as it was becoming more and more obvious that Claudia was not the marrying type. She had been so grateful - so happy that the stress of finding someone appropriate for her was no longer on her small shoulders. Ezio would ruin the bastard for upsetting her so much.
Claudia, it seemed agreed.
"He should suffer for what he's done."
The sorrow had passed, and Claudia looked up to Ezio with furious eyes.
He grinned through his stitches. "Now that's the Claudia I know and love," he said. "And don't worry about that bastard. I'll have a word with him."
Claudia nodded, a vindictive look on her face. "Kick him where it hurts."
Ezio nodded. "I'll make him a soprano for the rest of his life."
"Ezio."
The two siblings looked up to see the towering visage of their father, looking down on them.
"Good morning, Father," Ezio said wearily, knowing what was coming.
"Come with me," he said in a stern voice, spinning on his heel and marching down the hall, leaving Ezio to share a brief look with Claudia before rushing after him. Oooh, just how much trouble was he in? What did his stupid brother tell him?
"Is something wrong?" he asked, nervous and hoping feigned innocence would get him out of trouble.
Giovanni Auditore da' Firenze strode into his office and spun around, Ezio almost crashing into his powerful father.
"Do you think me blind and deaf, son?" he railed. "I know all about your fight with Vieri de' Pazzi last night, do you know how many complaints have been delivered to me? How much in damages I'm going to have to pay because you thought starting a fight might be fun?"
"Father, it was a friendly disagreement! He threw a rock and... Look at my stitches!"
"Irrelevant! And then this little 'visit' to Cristina Vespucci!" his father added, stepping into Ezio's personal space. "Her father was beside himself to learn his little girl had been deflowered! Your behavior is unacceptable!" He shook a fist in emphasis of his point. "It...! It...!" At a loss for words, Giovanni turned around, taking a breath, and Ezio looked down, sullen and forlorn. He waited for the proverbial hammer to fall. Imagine his surprise, then, when his father suddenly laughed. He looked up, startled, as his father put a warm hand on his shoulder. "It reminds me of myself when I was your age!"
That brought Ezio up short. "You?" he asked, almost afraid that this was a dream. He couldn't imagine his stern, strict father was as wild as Ezio was.
"Ah, there are many stories I could tell you of my courtship with your mother, but she would kill me if I spoke of them to you," he said brightly, patting his son's shoulder. "I will speak to Miss Vespucci's father tomorrow and make arrangements. I'd like to talk to her before anything final is settled, but any girl that can make you risk being caught by her father is one worth marrying - and I speak from experience on that. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes, father." Was he...? Was he really off the hook?
"Bene. I assume these misadventures won't interfere with your work today?"
Ezio grinned. "No, Father. You have my word."
Young and energetic, Giovanni had decided early on that Ezio would do little good as a banker just yet, and instead and made him something of a courier, sending him off to deliver letters or documents throughout the city, sometimes retrieve letters. Sometimes he timed his son, and Ezio took pride in the fact that he was the fastest runner in all of Firenze.
"I've prepared some documents for Lorenzo de' Medici to review. I need them delivered to him."
"With haste, Father," Ezio said, happy for the work.
"Return to me when it's done."
Ezio nodded and then, for the sake of formality, bowed slightly before taking the documents. In return for not being punished, Ezio was going to make this his fastest delivery yet, and then he could look for the bastard Duccio.
"Oh, and Ezio."
"Yes, Father?"
"Make sure you change before you go out. You look dreadful."
Ezio looked down at himself, his sleep-rumpled clothes, bloodied vest and ripped sleeves. He had the decency to look abashed.
"Yes, Father."
Ezio rushed back upstairs, intending to just wash his face before changing, but found instead that Annetta had drawn a bath for him. She said nothing, just pointing out a fresh set of clothes for him then turning her nose up and away. Ezio couldn't quite stop looking abashed as he set about giving himself a proper scrub down.
The bath was refreshing and the clean, warm clothes were wondrous. As he pulled back his hair, Ezio finally saw how his face looked in the mirror. It was indeed a vicious sight. No wonder talking felt like it was pulling at his stitches, his whole upper lip was swollen up to his nose and even to his cheek! Frederico was right, his pretty face was going to be ruined. Thankfully, his lower lip, though clearly having been cut, was not so swollen and hadn't needed stitches.
Ezio frowned at his reflection. He was going to have to refrain from his carefree smile. He didn't want there to be a scar and it would take quite some time for this to even stop swelling, let alone be healed enough to remove the ugly stitches.
Looking outside, Ezio frowned even further at the bright and sunny late December morning. Well, it was winter; he could use the excuse that it was chilly. He grabbed a cloak and pulled up the hood, not wishing anyone to see his damaged face as he ran about the city. It may be a "scratch for honor" as he'd told Cristina and Claudia, but it was over a petty jealousy of Vieri's that Ezio had goaded. Hardly a true matter of pride.
Ezio let out a sigh. His father had been right. Such behavior was unacceptable, if for no other reason than the damage done to himself.
He checked in with his father briefly, to show that he was more acceptable in clean clothes, before giving a lopsided grin to spare his stitches and taking off like an arrow out of the villa. He ducked around crowds, leapt over carts, and raced over boxes to avoid loiterers. He promised himself that he'd do this in his best time and he was striving for it, his muscles burning, the damp, chill air soaking him, as his half-cloak fluttered behind him. The hood made for an interesting challenge, as it did obstruct part of his view, but in a way he felt faster for it, as he reacted to the barest of perceptions as he raced through the streets. The smaller view area made him more inclined to leap over crates or use them as steps to overhanging beams that would bear lanterns at night, so as to better see the streets and squares he was racing through before dropping back down and continuing.
The morning air was exhilarating and he couldn't help but laugh as he ran through the streets.
Finally, in the distance, he saw the Medici compound, made famous by Lorenzo's grandfather, Cosimo de Medici, who had started their success in banking. Ezio slowed, not wishing to look out of breath and rushed. He may be keeping his own record of time, but his father wasn't. So Ezio straightened himself out, adjusted his half cloak, and lowered his hood long enough to run a hand through his hair and retie it. Feeling more presentable, he knocked politely at the servant entrance, where couriers like himself were usually accepted.
"Ah! Ezio! Ben trovato! How are you?" Lorezno's steward answered, smiling at see him. "Ah, up to no good I see. Somehow, I doubt you'll do banking for Master Lorenzo like your father does."
Ezio gave a shrug and chuckle. "What can I say? I doubt books and sitting around will ever be for me." He extended the sealed letter, still dry despite his race through the damp December air. "I have a letter for Messer Lorenzo."
"I'll see that he receives it when he returns."
"Returns?"
The steward nodded, tapping the letter in his hand. "They've gone to Villa Careggi, I'm afraid; and not expected back for at least another day. They received word to go there last night."
"I'll let my father know."
"Many thanks, Ezio," the steward nodded. "And, could you deliver a letter for me?" the man said, blushing. "You do so much as a courier for your father, would it trouble you to help a lovesick soul?"
The young Florentine bit back a laugh both for his lips and for the pride of the steward who as well in his thirties yet blushing like a young girl.
"I'm always willing to help a romantic like myself," Ezio replied. After all, he knew how difficult it was to talk to the fairer sex. His first meeting with Cristina was proof of that.
"Just a moment," the steward said, a smile on his round face. "I'll be right back."
Ezio was led in and seated while the "lovesick soul" rushed to get (or write) the letter. While waiting, one of the women bustling too and fro from the kitchen took pity on his abused face and came with a salve that certainly eased the ache. Ezio had no problem flirting with her, though when she started to come on a little strong, he politely declined. After all, now that he was with Cristina, there was no need to really look anywhere else. Duccio was enough of a bastard and Ezio did not wish to do anything similar.
Speaking of, he still wanted to find the cazzo and have a... talk... with him about Claudia.
The steward came back and smiled gratefully at Ezio.
"She works at a flower stall at the market near the Duoma. She is French, so she should be easy to find. Beautiful brown eyes, delicate jaw, long neck..."
Ezio laughed. "A French girl in Firenze? That will be interesting."
The steward laughed as well. "Just don't follow your brother's footsteps and bed her. I'll be the one to do that."
"No worries there, my friend," Ezio stood, shaking out his half-cloak and raising his hood. "I prefer Florentines."
They said their goodbyes and, to Ezio's surprise, the steward gave him some florins as payment for both the delivery made and the one to be done.
Ezio made his way to the Santa Maria del Fiore, the great prize and pride of Firenze. The massive cathedral had been vacant and unfinished for over a century, a blight on Florence's elegant skyline as the dome had not been thought through and no one could actually build it. It wasn't till a brilliant Florentine architect named Brunelleschi took over that the Duoma was finally completed in 1436. Ezio could remember his grandmother always claiming that she'd birthed his father Giovanni in celebration. Next to the massive Basilica was Giotto's Campanile, a tower stretching up several stories but never quite rivaling the height of the Santa Maria del Fiore. Collectively, the two monuments were called the Duoma. It was a massive landmark in the city, and a frequent meeting place for many people.
As Ezio made his way through the stalls in the nearby market place, asking for the location of a French flower girl, he thought he glimpsed the purple and grey colors of the de Luca family, but when he looked again it was gone. Ezio frowned, wondering if Duccio de Luca was nearby, but he had a job to do first.
The crowds were thickening and Ezio didn't care for how long it would take to find this recipient. So he thought of an eagle, focused on finding a French flower girl, and started to look around as colors started to fade and the faintest hint of gold Geeze, he has Eagle Vision already could be seen in the distance. Ah, there she was.
Ezio delivered the letter to the girl and practiced his pitiable French with her, talking of how the writer of the letter was quite enamored with her. She demurred and blushed, but seemed to show some interest. When she asked where he was, Ezio suppressed a grin and told her how to get to the Palazzo de Medici and ask for the steward.
Considering his job done and feeling good about uniting a couple, Ezio started to head back home, walking beside the massive Duoma. It was hitting midmorning now, and the streets were packed. Ezio eased through the crowds, taking his time. He was aiming to be home just in time for lunch, maybe spend some time with Petruccio with a game of chess. Then he'd spend the afternoon scouring the streets for the bastardo Duccio.
He was looking to a shortcut through a less-crowded alley when a distinctly impolite female sigh caught his attention. Behind a pile of crates an amorous encounter was occurring. A woman was up against the wall of a building, one leg being held up and her skirts bunched up exposing her pale bare legs. Her corset was loosened, her ample bosom only barely covered by thin linen as the man supporting her was grunting and nuzzling her neck. The hand not holding up her leg reached up and pulled the linen down, exposing her breasts and then grasped, fondled, and pinched the already protruding nipples.
Ezio allowed himself a small laugh. This was Firenze, after all. While most people had the common sense to do such activities behind closed doors, it wasn't that uncommon to spy a pair of lovers in an alley or secluded nook in the streets. Usually a man and woman, but occasionally a pair of men as well. Ezio shook his head. The Church may frown on such things, but people were people. Ezio doubted making such things prohibited by law would stop them from occurring.
The woman let out a muffled shout of orgasm and the man gave a satisfied grunt before pulling back. The woman was already covering her exposed breasts and adjusting her corset as the man pulled his member out, a long string of bodily fluids glistening from the tip to her entrance before her falling skirts broke it. He pulled out a handkerchief to clean himself and Ezio turned to move on.
"Grazie, Duccio," came the throaty moan of the woman, "for allowing a mere serving girl to see how nobles can care..."
Ezio froze.
"How could I hold myself from such a beauty," was the suave, oily reply.
Anger swelled in Ezio, but the packed streets didn't like that he had stayed still for so long and were starting to push him away.
"No!" Ezio growled, pushing back at the crowd. But he couldn't slip through, not while going the opposite direction of the river of people. He tried to be gentle, but he was pushed further and further from that semi-private nook. Ezio thought he saw the grays and purples of the de Luca ease into the flow of the crowds away from him and Ezio couldn't stop a low growl from his throat as the bischero got away. But, if Ezio's eyes were right, the filthy dog was headed for the Duoma.
With a destination in mind, Ezio stopped fighting the crowds and let it work to his favor as he flowed forward, then back around to the Basillica, looking for all the hide-spots he had whenever he had met Cristina and wished to merely hold her in his arms. He scanned the crowds for the grays and purples of Duccio's family, circling around the church and holding back a smile of irony at a lecher using a church to have an encounter. Really, even Ezio didn't dare do anything untoward while at a church. He may not like some of the Church's restrictions on behavior, but he at least respected that they tried to keep their grounds holy.
"Oh, Duccio. It's beautiful."
Ezio's sharp ears picked up the name and he turned to see an pleasingly plump woman admiring a ring in the morning light. Duccio was behind her, his arms wrapped around her and a wandering hand reaching under her corset.
"Nothing but the best for you, my love," he said with the same oily voice and false smile.
"But what of Claudia," the woman asked, fluttering her eyes at the purple philanderer. "I thought you had been promised to her?" Her eyes closed and she bit back a moan.
"Father said I could do much better than an Auditore," Duccio assured her, as his other hand reached around her hip and started to push between her legs.
"Ah," she yelped, pulling away and straightening her corset, "naughty. Let us walk a bit."
" 'Walk'?" Duccio waggled his eyebrows. "I had something else in mind..." He reached forward to grab her breast again.
Ezio had seen enough. "Hey! Dirty pig!" he shouted with all his might. The people around them stopped, looking at what was causing the spectacle.
Duccio now had his hands to himself and was putting on an insincere smile. "Ezio! My friend!"
Ezio didn't let him get any farther. Instead, he introduced the bastardo's jaw to his fist. "What the hell?" Duccio cried out as he stumbled.
"You insult my sister," he said clearly, "parading around with this whore." The woman gave an affronted shout.
"W-what are you talking about?"
"I saw the gift you gave her," the woman immediately covered the ring, but the whole crowd saw it, "heard the things you said. I doubt a harlot is better than the noble and honorable Auditore house. Or that servant girl in the alley?"
"Maybe your sister shouldn't be so stingy with her virtue," Duccio barked back contemptuously, rubbing his jaw.
"You broke her heart." And no one broke Claudia's heart.
"Ha! And now I'm going to break your face!" Duccio shouted as he lunged forward. "You Auditore all talk big, but when it comes time for action? Hah!"
Clearly, this idiot didn't know a thing about the Auditore. Ezio was incredibly pleased he had the opportunity to tutor him in just how the Auditore took action. Duccio's fist was well aimed, but his stance was poor and it was as easy as a breath to duck it and land three powerful punches to Duccio's exposed sternum before grabbing his head and driving his knee up into the jaw. The bastard never had a chance, as it should be.
"Stay away from my sister!"
The woman was long gone, and Duccio lay moaning on the ground, missing a few teeth and bleeding somewhere in his mouth. Ezio felt this was perfect and nodded to himself. With Duccio put back in his place, there was no need to do anything else. Still he couldn't quite avoid doing a final kick to the ribs before Ezio walked away with his head held high.
He made it back to the Auditore Villa just before noon. Frederico was in the now empty courtyard, looking over some papers and looked up.
"Keep up the good work," he offered with a teasing smile. "That delivery took all morning so it must have been so far away."
"Bischero!" Ezio cursed back flippantly as he made his way to his father's office. Frederico just chuckled.
As Ezio walked to his father's study, he could hear muffled voices from within. "... You worry too much, Giovanni. Francesco de' Pazzi is in prison. The threat is ended."
Vieri's father? Ezio knew that Giovanni had evidence that the Pazzi patriarch had committed murder and was charged with presenting it, but what threat was there that would make Ezio's father worry? Did it have to do with his late night disappearances?
Ezio shook his head and knocked.
"Ah, hello son," Giovanni's smile was warm, if slightly strained. "You remember my friend Uberto?"
"Good morning, Gonfaloniere Alberti," Ezio bowed as befitting of such a rank.
"To you as well, young man," the man replied.
"I trust you delivered the message?" Giovanni asked.
"Yes, Father," Ezio replied, "but it seems Lorenzo is out of town."
"Hmm. I did not anticipate this..."
"What does it matter?" Uberto soothed. "So you wait another day or two."
Giovanni said nothing, his eyes distant as something turned over in his head. Finally, he turned to Ezio.
"Listen, your mother and sister have been looking for you. I'll need you again in a little while but for now, see if you can't help them." He gave a regretful smile. "I doubt I'll be able to join you for lunch."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, now; if you'll excuse us..." Giovanni turned back to his study.
"Good to see you, Ezio." Uberto nodded, following.
Ezio gave a polite bow to them, trying not to frown and pull at his stitches.
That... hadn't felt right. Something was worrying his father. Something with the Pazzi family. Ezio had a feeling that what he delivered to Lorenzo was likely a plea for help from their patron, but they were Auditore. Certainly their nobility protected them. And if not, Ezio knew that his father was deadly with a sword, as was Frederico and himself. His father had insisted on the training, saying any nobleman needed to know how to duel, and would spar with them if he had the time.
Could it have had to do with that trip to Rome? Ezio knew his father had come back injured, given how stiffly he'd moved afterward. Surely there was no connection, brigands were everywhere.
Ezio crossed his arms. He just didn't know enough. Normally he wouldn't care, he knew his father could handle anything. But his father was worried and Ezio didn't understand why.
"Ah, Ezio!"
He turned to see Claudia coming down the hall with a book.
Ezio smiled, despite the pull to his stitches. Here, at least, he could deliver some good news. "Hello, Claudia."
She came over and hugged him and he squeezed back. "I come bringing good news!"
"Oh? I could use some," she replied, her eyes still swollen from crying earlier.
He put an arm around her shoulder as they headed to the dining room. "You needn't worry about Duccio any more."
"Ah, he's a soprano now?" She gave a large, mean grin.
"Something like that," Ezio nodded, giving a more lopsided version of her mean grin. "You can consider your engagement annulled. He won't dare bother you any more."
"Would that I could have seen his face," Claudia growled, but she let out a sigh. "Really, he's not worthy of the time, but I still want to see him suffer."
Ezio thought of Duccio and the two women he had seen. "Just keep thinking of him as beneath you," he said sagely. "Because you are better than he could ever be."
"This is true," Maria agreed, meeting them in the dining room.
"Mother," Ezio gave another lopsided grin for a brief moment. Claudia went to sit but he stayed. "Father says he'll be working through lunch."
Maria frowned, glancing back down the hall to the office, but nodded. "I'll have Annetta bring something to him later."
"He's worried,Mother. I've never seen him like this."
Maria smiled, putting a hand to his shoulder. "You like to hide it, but you are very observant my son, more so than even Frederico." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Let the adults worry about this. Life is full of worries, let us keep you carefree for just a little while longer."
Ezio frowned, but nodded, sitting at his seat. Frederico breezed in, a lazy smile on his face. Petruccio did not join them, but that wasn't uncommon. He would likely eat in his room and stay in bed so as not to strain his unhealthy condition.
"So," Frederic smiled, "I understand you gave that bastard Duccio something to think about?"
Ezio laughed. "News seems to fly faster than me it seems."
"I want details," Claudia insisted.
Lunch went by amicably, with all of them insulting Duccio and cheering up Claudia. Ezio tried to ask his mother and Frederico about what was worrying Giovanni, but Maria wouldn't say and his brother didn't seem to know. Maria skillfully slipped the conversation to gossip, everyone was talking about the death of the Duke of Milan, Galeazzo Sforza, a strong ally of the Medici, everyone was speculating the who's and the why's. Similarly, Vice-Chancellor Borgia was in Florence and no one was sure why. The Cardinal-Deacon had been Vice-Chancellor for the Pope for five years now and rumors were that he was gaining wealth and power quickly. The politics of the Papacy were discussed as rumors always flew from Rome but few were every actually true.
"Mother, you said you needed my help?" Ezio asked as he finished eating.
"Yes," she said. "I'll need those muscles of yours. It will be better for them than drunken brawling."
Ezio ducked his head at the chastisement.
"Ezio! Psst, Ezio!"
He paused, glancing to the small form of Petruccio just outside their gate. He looked back to Maria, but she simply nodded and headed off in a different direction, letting him go talk to his baby brother.
"What are you doing here, Petruccio?" Ezio admonished as he came over. "You should be in bed."
Petruccio smiled bashfully, putting some of his thick dark hair behind his ear. He looked up to the corner of a roof above them where some pigeons had a nest. "I want those feathers."
"What for?"
"It's a secret." Petruccio smiled, his eyes shining mischief. Ezio bit back a smile. Even Petruccio was an Auditore through and through.
"If I get them for you, will you go back inside?" he asked softly.
"Yes. I promise."
Ezio smiled and ruffled his brother's hair, escorting him inside to Annetta who took Petruccio's hand and led him back upstairs.
Ezio looked up to the pigeon nest and his eyes started looking for handholds that Frederico had taught him about the previous evening. He climbed slowly, still not always certain of what to grab, and he took the opportunity to truly study what he was climbing, where he didn't before. He got a feel for what was loose and what would likely hold him, though he wouldn't be confident of it until he'd done it several more times.
He reached the nest and looked through the loose feathers. There was one of pure white, a wing-feather, stuck in the twigs and straw just outside the nest that was likely the one that had caught Petruccio's eye. Ezio plucked it, spinning it around. It was a beautiful feather. He gently cleaned off some of the dirt and gently put it in a pouch. Looking back through the nest, he didn't see anything quite so beautiful. Most of the feathers were the small downy kind that adorned the body of a pigeon. And, frankly, if Petruccio wanted pigeon feathers, Ezio need only go to any of the pigeon coupes in town to go looking for a better find.
Still.
Up on the rooftops, Ezio looked around, leaping across narrow alleys and using scaffolding to cross wide streets. He did find more pigeon feathers that were interesting, with soft greens or that shone purple under the sun. But somehow, if Petruccio was collecting feathers, he wasn't sure that this is what was needed.
Looking up to the afternoon sky, Ezio noted that it was starting to get cloudy. Shrugging, he figured he had enough feathers when an eagle caught his eye, majestically diving from a tall belltower.
That might be a nest!
Ezio ran across the rooftops, stumbling on the tiles twice as he was unused to the footing, before once again climbing, up till he reached the eagle's nest. And there, right at the edge of the twigs and sticks and hay, was a wing-feather of solid, beautiful brown with just a hint of white at the tip. It was much larger than the pigeon feathers he'd been gathering and was sure to be the crown of whatever Petruccio was planning.
Satisfied, Ezio climbed back down to the streets and jogged home.
Petruccio was waiting back in bed.
"Here. As promised," Ezio said, laying each feather out on the bed to show off their beauty.
"Grazie, brother!"
"You still haven't told me why you want these."
Petruccio admired each feather before putting it in a box with gold ornaments. "I will. In time." His eyes still shined with mischief and Ezio laughed, ruffling his brother's hair again. "Now go on! Mother's been waiting for you all day!"
"Si, si," Ezio said, ruffling more hair. "Now you are to take it easy for the rest of the day."
Petruccio pouted, but nodded.
Ezio headed back outside, passing Annetta who was knocking at his father's study with a tray, asking if he'd eat anything.
Outside, he found his mother tending to the roses climbing the wall. Turning, she smiled. "Buon giorno, Ezio! I'm glad you could finally spare some time for your mother's errands."
"Buon giorno to you, Mother," Ezio greeted, rubbing the back of his head at another chastisement. "How are you?" he asked, hoping to deflect a lecture.
"I'm well," she replied. "And you?" she arched an eyebrow elegantly. "Still recovering from last night?"
Ezio immediately thought of Cristina and blushed. Caught, he scowled and shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Of course not."
He squirmed. Nobody could make Ezio squirm like his mother.
"Now if we may finally get to my errand? I've been waiting for you to join me."
"With pleasure."
They headed out into the crowded streets, going north.
"I know about your fight with Vieri," Maria confirmed what Ezio dreaded. He still delayed.
"What fight?"
"Please. Let's not play this game," his mother replied more firmly. "You think you could hide your face?"
Ezio scowled again. "He spoke ill of us," he defended. "I could not allow him to continue."
Maria sighed. "I'm sure he's having a hard time dealing with the accusations against his father. You're challenging him makes it easy to release frustrations in brawling." She cast a disappointed eye to him, making Ezio wince again. "Francesco de' Pazzi is many things - and none of them good," she continued. "But I never suspected he'd be capable of murder."
They walked further along and Ezio thought of Giovanni and the worry he had been showing. "What will happen to him?" he asked quietly.
"I imagine there will be a trial," she replied.
"Will Father speak at it?" Was that why Giovanni was so worried?
"He'll have to," Maria replied gently. "He's the one with the evidence."
Giovanni had the evidence? Was he worried that it would disappear? Ezio shook his head. He still didn't know enough.
"Still, I wish there was another way."
Maria stopped, turned to him, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You have nothing to fear," she said gently. "Everyone wants justice done. It is an unfortunate state of affairs, but it will pass." Reaching up, she cupped his face and softly ran a hand over his stitches. "Assuming you don't start a war between our families."
Ezio laughed. His mother's lectures were always so much worse than his father's.
They made small talk for the rest of the trip until they reached a studio with a small, attached courtyard.
"Here we are," Maria smiled. She entered the open vestibule and knocked on the ornately carved door.
The door opened and a blond young man, only a few years older than Frederico stepped forward. His red cap was askew and there were flecks of paint in his thin blond beard.
"Hello, Leonardo."
The artist clapped his hands together. "Madonna Maria!" he said enthusiastically, leaning forward and kissing each cheek.
Maria smiled warmly. "This is my son, Ezio."
The blond turned, his smile widening. "It is an honor," he said with a flourishing bow.
"The honor is mine," Ezio said with a more polite half-bow.
Leonardo turned back to Maria. "Let me go and fetch the paintings. I'll be right back." He dashed back into his shop.
Maria turned to her son. "He's very talented. I'm glad that Lorenzo introduced us."
Ezio shrugged. "I imagine he must be. You only ever go for the best."
Maria raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Self expression is vital to understanding and enjoying life. You should find an outlet."
Ezio kept looking away. "I have plenty of outlets," he groused.
"I meant besides vaginas," she replied archly.
"Mother!"
"You'll be marrying Cristina soon," she replied. "You can't go using her outlet every second of the day. Even if you don't care for your father's work, you must find a way to use your talents and occupy your time." She tilted her head back and arched her brow again. "So that you don't end up in drunken fights."
Truly, no one could make him squirm like this but a lecture from his mother.
Leonardo breezed out with a box of small paintings, smiling affably. "Back to your house, then?" he asked, completely missing the embarrassment Ezio had just received.
"Si, si," Maria agreed. "Only Ezio will be carrying that. Ezio, help Leonardo, would you?"
"Of course," he replied sourly, picking up the box.
The blond painter walked beside Ezio, his eyes alive with interest. "So, Ezio, what do you do?"
"He's been working for his father," Maria replied, looping her arm with Leonardo's.
"Ah, so you're to be a banker?" Leonardo asked with a bright smile.
"For now," Ezio grumbled. "And you? Art, was it?"
Leonardo's smile widened and he nodded, "Truth be told, it's been difficult for me to settle. Painting is nice, the math of it and all, but I often feel it lacks... I don't know... purpose. Does that make sense?"
Ezio turned his head and nodded. In a way, that did. Art just hung on walls. It didn't do anything. And Ezio always preferred to be up and about doing something.
Leonardo beamed at him and continued. "I'd rather contribute more practically. More directly. Architecture, perhaps. Or anatomy. I'm not content to merely capture the world. I want to change it."
"I know what you mean," Ezio replied, thinking of his father and Giovanni's worries. "I wish I could change things as well."
"Oh Leonardo," Maria sighed fondly. "I have no doubt you'll go on to do great things!"
At last, the blond artist turned from Ezio. "My thanks, milady. That's very kind of you."
They continued to talk on the way back, and Ezio found he was curious about the techniques he saw in the paintings he was carrying. Leonardo happily explained his methods of a brush and mixing paints to make just the right color, a new approach he was creating that he called sfumato, but how he hadn't perfected it yet. The concept of proportions and how all people had different measures but the same proportions. The eyes were the halfway mark for a human face and the nose and hairline were a quarter marks. Ezio asked more questions, interested in the way paints were mixed and carefully rationed by apprentices like Leonardo.
Beside Leonardo, Maria simply smiled. Ezio had finally found an outlet that wasn't between a woman's legs.
It was mid-afternoon when they finally arrived at the villa, and Ezio gave the crate of paintings to the staff. "Thank you for your help, son," Maria smiled. "Don't let me keep you from your other duties."
"It's been fun chatting with you, Ezio," Leonardo also smiled, shaking the young Florentine's hand. "We really must do this again sometime."
"Agreed," Ezio replied. "But without the crate."
"It was nice to meet you. I hope our paths cross again."
Ezio nodded and Leonardo made his goodbyes with Maria before hurrying back to his workshop. He knew that his father had needed him to check in later, but he'd likely have deliveries to make for that, so Ezio decided to check in with his family. Petruccio was in his room, admiring the box of feathers and gently cleaning each one in a small bowl of water.
He joined his little brother, teasing and poking for what the feathers might be for. All Petruccio would say with his mischievous eyes, was that he had something in mind for their mother. Frederico joined them, clearly slacking from his work. Eventually, Frederico challenged Petruccio to a game of chess, since Frederico considered it his duty to teach all his siblings the game.
Claudia was in the library, still reading. She looked better than she had that morning and Ezio dawdled with her, teasing her, asking why she was reading books on banking, and helping to keep her mind off of Duccio.
"Ezio." The two looked up to see Maria standing seriously by the shelf.
"Yes, mother?"
"Your father has been waiting for you."
"Of course."
Maria opened her mouth, as if to say something, but thought better of it, instead taking Ezio's place by Claudia.
Author's Notes: Gawd, the timing, the TIMING! All the game tells you is "December, 1476." But then there's Lineage, where Giovanni tries to prevent the death of the Duke of Milan: That's December 26, and yet he has time to travel to Venice and then Rome, come back home, and then Ezio has his "perfect" day, "execution" day, and "assassination" day, and runs off to Monteriggioni. All before 1477. That is not, not, NOT a lot of wiggle room. Pardon us while we bang our head and keep everything nice and vague...
The Italian: Okay. Here's the thing: The way it works in the game is as follows: you listen to the cut scenes and listen to Ezio's sexy baritone or Leonardo's charming tenor or whatever slip into Italian, and for a moment you're utterly confused until you glance down at the subtitles and (if you're fast enough) you catch a glimpse of what the Italian means. You probably don't get all of it but you catch enough to get the gist of it.
Mimicking that in text is much harder, because you don't have Ezio's sexy baritone or Leonardo's charming tenor to inflect and nuance and give you an idea of tone. The Italian is just a collection of letters arranged in a way that doesn't make sense to a non-speaker and the sexiness or charm is lost. As a result, reading all that Italian is, frankly, a pain, and reading subtitles is just distracting. As a result, our philosophy is thus:
We cut away a lot of the Italian and kept it to three basic rules: "pleasant" conversation, swearing, and Requiescat in pace. The reason for this is to strip all the foreign language to words and phrases you can infer or contextualize the meaning to. You many not immediately know what bene means, but if you went to public high school and took French or Spanish, you might remember bien, or bueno, and can infer the meaning. You many not know what fottiti means, but reading that it's a vulgar curse lets you know the gist of the sentence and so, like in the game, you get the gist of the conversation.
And Requiescat in pace, well, er, does that really need translation...?
Also note that this fic is rated M, not only for the potty-mouths running around, but because of Ezio's "amorous adventures." Both of us are such prudes that we're convinced we going to hell for writing the thing that are in here, but we hope nothing is too graphic, and that it's accurate both to Ezio's character, the time period, and the reputation Florence had at the time.
Thanks go to Tenshi, our beta who dropped off the radar for a while because of family loss - our thoughts are with her - but she's back. Also thanks to JediKnightMarina55 for giving us lots of little Italian culture tidbits and factoids that we abused terribly throughout the fic.