Part Six: Death of a Rival
When he woke, the sun had been up for at least two hours, and the time spent riding in a stiff wooden cart had played utter havoc with the injury to his shoulder. Ezio clutched it tightly, his breath hitching as he realized how badly he must have hurt it. Grunting, he tried to stretch and roll his shoulder, to keep it maneuverable, but it only offered more pain in retaliation. Frustrated, Ezio carefully got up, letting his mother and sister sleep, and moved to sit next to the driver.
Mario was with them, the Tuscany countryside spread out before them in gentle rolling hills and farmlands. "You can sleep more," he said.
"My shoulder won't let me," Ezio grunted, still exhausted.
His uncle nodded, running a hand through his dark hair. "We can have it looked at properly in Monteriggioni," he said. "In the meantime, tell me everything."
It was like opening a set of floodgates. Every detail poured out of Ezio, about the letters he delivered, Lorenzo de' Medici not in the city, the strange meetings, the assault on their house, Claudia and Maria, visiting his father at the Palazzo della Signoria, delivering the documents to Uberto, the gallows, all of it; even the gruesome fates of his father and brothers.
"They executed Father for treason. Frederico and Petruccio too. Then they came for me."
Mario, quiet up to now with a grim, stoic look on his face, turned to Ezio. "Do you know why?"
"I have no answers, Uncle..." he said, staring off to nothing. "I still can't believe they are gone..." He turned behind him, seeing Claudia and Maria, but somehow expecting Frederico and Petruccio sleeping with them, or Giovanni riding beside them.
"Don't worry," Mario said kindly, "We'll make sense of this."
"I wish I shared your optimism," Ezio muttered, before a thought struck him. He dug into his pouch, shifting through the meager coin he possessed and pulling out the papers he'd looted from Uberto. Mario eyed the parchment as Ezio opened it up, and the young Florentine was shocked to recognize his father's handwriting. This... this had been one of the papers he'd delivered to Uberto. His eyes watered, glancing over the parchment and reliving that night, and then that terrible morning, and the... Shaking his head, Ezio took a shaky breath and read it over. "... Only a list of names," he muttered, disappointed, bitter and sad. He handed them to Mario.
Mario studied it with much more scrutiny, before returning it. "Well make sense of it," he repeated. "Come on," he added, addressing his men, "keep up the pace!" He turned back to Ezio. "We're almost there. I think you will find much to like in Monteriggioni."
Ezio frowned, still tired, and rubbed his face. "I thought Monteriggioni was an enemy of Firenze..."
"For now," Mario said, shrugging his shoulders as if he were talking about the weather. "Next year it will be its friend. The year after its enemy again. And on and on. I cannot keep track, so I have stopped trying." He laughed, and several of his mercenaries laughed with him, apparently familiar with an old joke. Mario pointed out to the farmlands, peasants already up and tending the winter fields. "These are honest hardworking people," he said. "Our shops only carry simple goods, but they're well made and dependable. There is a chapel here, too; priest seems a nice enough fellow, but I've never been much of a believer."
Ezio snorted. A son of Florence had a casual relationship at best with God, and after watching the death of his family he doubted if he would ever fully subscribe to God again, not with allowing such an injustice to occur.
Mario seemed to sense the bitter thoughts, and quickly started talking again. "Did you know the Villa Auditore is almost two-hundred years old? It was built by my great-grandfather; a strange man, who carried all kinds of secrets. Keep your eyes open, and you might discover a few of them yourself..." But Ezio had tuned out, looking instead up the road to the telltale walls that indicated a city, towers jutting up and ominously guarding its territory.
...Or at least, it would have been ominous had the towers not been in such obvious need of repair.
Mario was already explaining. "With all the fighting that's been going on, the place has started to get a bit rough around the edges. I wish I could do something about it, but I haven't the time or the money to fix things up. Guess that's life, eh?" he said with a bright grin. Ezio just looked at him, and Mario gave an awkward cough. "Here we are," he said quickly. "Home sweet home."
They passed the stables, everyone dismounting and leaving the horses to the stablemaster. Claudia was awake, and helping Maria off the cart before the mercenaries broke up to other duties and disappeared. Past the gates was not a square of any kind, but rather a simple road, and Mario hooked a right, then a left past a tree, to what was obviously the main street. Several of the shops were boarded up, there were no signs, but even so early in the morning several people were out in worn but well cared for clothes, opening up small stands and places of business. The buildings were old, almost everything needed a fresh coat of pain, but what caught Ezio's eye was at the end of the thoroughfare. Steps rose up to a magnificent fountain, an elaborate relief carved out of the wall, and Ezio recognized the symbol as the one on his bracer and stylized belt. It was not the family crest, but obviously the symbol held great meaning. The detail work was astonishing, even at a distance, and as they approached it even Claudia, as exhausted as Ezio, stopped to stare at the magnificent piece of art. No water was in the fountain - a testament to the state of disrepair of the city, but in that fountain Ezio saw a hint of Florence, a hint of home.
"So? What do you think?" Mario asked.
"It's most impressive, Uncle." Claudia agreed.
They walked up the steps circling around the fountain to a higher tier of the city, revealing a stage that had clearly been re-appropriated to a training ring. Passing that, they went up another flight of steps to a massive villa. Almost every window of the ground floor was boarded, and the lawn even in December showed signs that it had been overgrown. The façade was chipped and in poor condition. The columns holding a small balcony over the main doors, however, were solid.
"She's seen better days, I suppose," Mario said, his gruff voice slightly embarrassed. "Believe me, I'd have her shining again... if only I had the time. Now," he said, "I'll fetch a doctor to look at that shoulder of yours, and Claudia and Maria, too. Once we've had you settled, we'll begin straight away."
The Auditore siblings blinked, glancing at each other.
"Begin?" Claudia asked.
"Begin what?" Ezio added.
Mario openly frowned, his milky eye gazing at them in confusion. "I thought you'd come here to train?"
Ezio rubbed his forehead. "No, Uncle," he explained. "I came here to escape Firenze - and I intend to take my family further still."
Mario openly gaped; hands limp at his sides in shock. "But what about your father? He'd want you to finish his work."
"What work?" Claudia asked, shifting her weight closer to Ezio. "Father was a banker."
Mario looked back and forth between the two siblings, his gaze suddenly narrow and calculating.
"... He did not tell you?" he asked.
Ezio gave a slight growl in frustration. "I have no idea what you are talking about..."
Mario bit out a bitter curse, rubbing his chin. "What were you thinking, Giovanni?!" he muttered, almost to himself. Ezio and Claudia both exchanged a helpless look, uncertain what their uncle was talking about. "This complicates things..." Mario muttered, "Where to even begin..." The older man paced slightly, cursing on occasion, before looking at his nephew and niece. "We'll talk more later," he said finally. "First things first: I'll go fetch that doctor. It will give me time to think."
"But-" Ezio started.
"But that's that. We'll talk more later." Mario turned, Ezio noting the family crest on the back of his cloak, and marched back down the steps, still muttering to himself.
Ezio and Claudia looked at each other again, uncertainty hanging between them.
"Don't worry," the former noble said slowly, "we're only staying here for a little while." The reassurance fell flat even in his own ears.
"I don't like it here," Claudia said. "I want to go home."
"... I know."
Within twenty minutes Mario returned with the village doctor, a tall spindly man named Alfeo, his wax covered cloak falling to reach his ankles and his mask cracked along its beak. Mario ushered the party into one of the villa's many rooms, sitting Maria down at a settee before disappearing to order breakfast. The doctor looked to Ezio first, ordering him to undress in the clipped tones of a professional, and Ezio gingerly removed his hood, doublet, belts, and carefully tried to shrug off his linen shirt. Claudia gasped as it left his shoulders, and he turned to see her face go utterly white. "Is it that bad?" he asked, weary.
The soon-to-be sixteen-year-old shook her head, a hand covering her mouth. "No... It's just so big," she said. "A giant bruise. I did not think you had been hurt..."
"Hm," Alfeo said, prodding the injury with insensitive hands. Ezio grunted at the pain. "No breaks in the skin, no tears in the muscle. As the girl said, it is nothing more than a bruise. You are very lucky, Messere."
"It was not luck," Ezio said, bitter as the doctor pulled out some kind of salve to rub on the shoulder. "Vieri de' Pazzi was just toying with me." Numbness started to spread across his back, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Alfeo prescribed the salve for the next week, also pulling out the stitches on his long-forgotten lip before turning to Claudia, who hesitantly lifted her sleeves to reveal deeply bruised wrists. Ezio bit out a vulgar curse, rage filling his chest at his failure, and paced about the room while the doctor tended her, using the same salve as he had on Ezio. He pulled her into a tight embrace when she was finished; whispering apologies in her ear while the doctor examined Maria. His sister only nodded, clutching at his half buttoned doublet, and pressing her face into the crook of his neck, crying again as they both relived the previous night.
The doctor was still examining Maria when Uncle Mario arrived with a servant girl, tray filled with bread and honey to dip it in, and fresh milk. The stocky man spoke to the doctor briefly before showing him out, and returned to sit with his family. Breakfast was, at best, foggy, Ezio and Claudia both lost in their thoughts and exhaustion, Mario letting them have their moment as he sat next to Maria.
At length, a part of the events at last clicked with Ezio's mind, his lips pulling into a frown as he looked to his uncle.
"You said our father was more than just a banker?"
Tension built up in the room, Claudia looking up in not a little bit of weariness, subconsciously edging closer to her brother and glaring at everything.
Mario gave a measured gaze to them both, not the look of an uncle but of a hardened fighter, before leaning back and crossing his legs. "No use dancing around it, I suppose," he said, leveling his blind eye to them both. "Your father was an Assassin, Ezio."
"No," Claudia said. "That's not true."
"I told you before, my father was a paper pusher."
"He wasn't a murderer," his sister insisted. "He was a good man."
"No," Mario said, cutting through their protests in his gruff voice. "He was born and bred to kill. We both were, and we both have. But do not think for a moment he was just some petty murderer for hire. The work we do - we did," he corrected, his gaze drifting slightly before he refocused, "is much more complicated than that, and much more noble. You insult him by thinking anything less."
"And you insult him with these ludicrous accusations!" Claudia hissed, getting up and storming out of the room. Ezio stood as well, half-tempted to follow but unwilling to leave his mother alone.
Mario gave a great, weary sigh. "You've both been through a lot," he said, suddenly sounding tired. "I should not have dropped this on you so quickly. We will speak more of this later."
For their first three months at Monteriggioni, Ezio was hard pressed to be found away from any of his family. Indeed, that first week, both he and Claudia didn't even leave their mother's side. But both children were forced to learn the hard way that being with someone catatonic was not as easy as a romanticized novel might make it out to be. The first days were spent talking to Maria, praying she would simply snap out of it. They celebrated Claudia's birthday in her room, only instead of Claudia's favorites, all of Maria's favorites were served.
But Maria didn't respond. She would occasionally look to them, inspiring hope, then go back to staring at nothing. Maria went through the motions of living. She ate (though very little), got dressed, and brushed her hair (and just kept brushing and brushing until Ezio or Claudia stopped her). Mostly, though, she didn't even bother leaving her bed.
And the most depressing part for the Auditore siblings?
Boredom.
To both of their great shame, they were bored just sitting by her for hours with no response. At times, either one of them seemed on the brink of an explosive anger, ready to demand just why she wouldn't respond, what more could they do, what more did Maria want or need from them in order to come back to them, we need you so why do you say and do nothing? But the other sibling would cool the rage before it engulfed them.
At other times, one or both of them would collapse into tears, begging and pleading for Maria to unlock her heart, to return it from wherever she had hidden it. Crying that losing Giovanni, Frederico, and Petruccio was almost easier than having Maria physically there but not responding to anything.
Once a week, Mario did everything short of bodily evicting them. He took up watching over his sister-in-law, something neither Ezio nor Claudia trusted with anyone lightly, and told the siblings to go out, take a break, explore the town. Neither really appreciated this. Ezio had only ever visited Mario once, shortly after Claudia was born, and didn't know if he had a good measure of the man. But Ezio was becoming well acquainted with grief, and he saw grief in Mario over the loss of Giovanni.
Ezio and Claudia would wander the villa, to out of it for various reasons, exploring and meandered the town. In an effort to keep occupied, but avoid the obvious conversation points, they discussed how the town should be improved. They fell into old bickering patterns about whether the well was the first thing to fix or the mines. It depressed them both that it was such a relief to be away from their mother.
One day, in March, Mario finally pulled Ezio aside for a serious talk. The weather was slowly starting to warm so his uncle brought him out for a ride amongst the fields that were being planted.
"Ezio, this cannot continue."
The grieving Florentine reined his horse and looked down. He no longer bore any doubts about Mario, but Ezio still considered himself head of his family. His uncle could advise, offer suggestions, but Ezio did not wish to give control of what remained of his family to anyone.
That didn't mean he wouldn't listen.
"I know," he said quietly. "Mother is still so ill. She can't even get out of bed anymore. Alfeo says that it's not her body that ails, but her heart."
"And will you stay here for however long it takes to see her well?"
Ezio sighed. "We will stay until she's well enough for travel." He shook his head. "Mi dispace, Zio, but we will be safer away from Italia."
Mario looked at him for a long time, his gaze measuring. "I disagree, nipote. You will always be safe here."
Ezio shook his head again. "I can't be certain of that. So much needs repair here. I doubt it would take long for catapults to bring down the walls."
Mario gave a quiet laugh. "We have indeed fallen into disrepair." He nudged his horse and Ezio followed. "Then if I can't give you hospitality then how about lessons?"
"Lessons?"
"Yes. I keep some mercenaries here as a precaution." Mario gave a small laugh. "My crumbling walls as you put it. You know how to duel, not how to fight. If I can't keep you safe here, let me give you the tools to be safe when you are away from here."
"... I will think on it."
"That's all I ask. I'll speak to Ulderico. Just talk to him and he'll get you started."
"You sound as if you won't be here."
Mario let out a long deep sigh. "Life, unfortunately, must go on. I've been away from my duties for too long. I need to travel to Roma about... some business."
For the first time in months, Ezio's curiosity perked, but he squashed it. He was head of the family; he couldn't follow any whim anymore.
Ezio discussed Mario's proposal with Claudia thoroughly, looking at all the pros and cons since training to fight, as Ezio knew from his sword work, took time. It would delay their leaving by a year, they estimated, at least.
But looking at Maria, the choice, ultimately, wasn't a choice.
Claudia did have one condition. She demanded to learn combat as well.
Given what had happened when they arrived, Ezio couldn't really begrudge her that.
The following day, Ezio sought out Ulderico to the tiny barracks in town. Lessons were set for the mornings for Ezio and the afternoon for Claudia. That way one of them remained with Maria.
The change in routine almost brought a change in life for the Auditore siblings. Claudia started to demand the accounting books, determined to at least pay back Mario by leaving the villa in a better state than they arrived.
Ezio, searching for something to read, stumbled upon some journals of his father. He almost broke down crying, seeing his father's elegant scripting once more, but instead just looked at it sadly. The curiosity Mario had sparked still festered, and, finally, Ezio started to poke around, read the journals, put pieces together.
At first, it made no sense. Ezio had always known his father to be a banker, and a very good one at that. It was why Lorenzo de' Medici would work with him. Giovanni's connection in the Germanic mountains was indispensable, right?
But no, the more Ezio read, the more he was forced to come to grips with the fact that his father... had been an Assassin.
He left his father's journals for almost two months when he made that realization.
By then, spring had crawled by and Maria was... better wasn't the right word. She was no longer confined to bed, but she was still unresponsive. Claudia was growling at Mario's lack of proper financing and Ezio sat down with her to go over the accounts rather than read the journals. Then he started growling with Claudia as he realized just what a state the Auditore Villa, and Monteriggioni in general, was in. It had lead to a heated dinner conversation with Mario when he returned, where both Ezio and Claudia took him to task for his bookkeeping, taxing, spending, economics, and all around financing.
Mario couldn't help but laugh. "Giovanni really did raise you to be bankers!"
"Hopeless!" Claudia grunted.
Still laughing, Mario had asked if they had any suggestions.
Ezio and Claudia looked to one another, then they both grinned. "Well, you asked for it," Ezio said as they both started laying out what it would take to get more people in town to increase the tax revenue, and to finally get the money to properly fix up both the town and the villa. Mario still chuckled until he realized that they were dead serious.
"Va bene! Va bene! I'll look into it."
"No," Ezio said firmly, Claudia nodding emphatically beside him. "You'll do it."
And, for once, Maria offered a small smile.
As summer continued to get hotter and hotter, the Auditore were surprised when a new servant arrived.
"Annetta!" Claudia cried out, diving into their maid's arms. "I thought we'd never see you again!"
"It is good to see you," Ezio smiled as well. "How is your sister faring?"
Annetta smiled warmly at them both. "I couldn't just let you leave," she answered. "Paola is well, business always does well this time of year. Something about customers enjoying relieving stress or some such."
And, for the first time in the half-year since the family arrived, Ezio felt like there was finally someone he trusted outside of his family to leave with Maria, freeing up more time for both him and Claudia.
Though that thought left them feeling guilty again.
Ezio visited the town regularly, both to keep practicing the climbing skills Frederico had taught him that seemed so useful in his escape from Florence. The citizens were startled at first, not knowing what to make of it.
"Must be a drunken wager or something..."
"Is that entertainment? He's not very good..."
"He must be late... and she must be beautiful..."
"Life expectancy: about five more minutes..."
They took it as simply an eccentric noble until, one day, Ezio was simply in the streets, having seen Alfeo about how Maria was doing when there was a scream above him. A housewife who had been hanging flowers outside her window, overbalanced and started to tumble. Ezio hadn't even stopped to think, he'd simply took off running, hopping a crate to a beam, to a lamp to a lattice, then climbed up the façade of the building, reaching up and supporting the woman as she hung from the sill and helped her climb back into the room.
After that, the townsfolk had no more issues with him randomly jogging around rooftops to stay in shape.
Mario had nodded approvingly at the story while Claudia shrieked about how dangerous that was and what would she have done if he'd died! But that was her concern screaming, something Ezio understood all too well, so he hugged her and held her close.
The lessons with the Ulderico were... interesting to say the least. All those involved praised Ezio highly on his sword-work. It was clear that he had spent long hours learning dueling and could be incredibly deadly with a blade. Indeed, even working with practice wands often left whoever Ezio was facing incredibly bruised and heading down to see Alfeo for more salve to relieve the aches they'd be feeling.
But Ulderico was the first to point out that an enemy would very rarely fight fair. Ezio always expected an honorable duel and Ulderico took it as his personal mission to remove that fanciful idea. It wasn't until he was certain that Ezio could handle anything with a sword that he started to show Ezio different weapons and how to take the stances and basics he already knew, and how to adapt them.
Any training Ulderico put Ezio or Claudia through, however, was suspended whenever Mario was home. Ezio's uncle insisted on doing personal training with his nipote, something he insisted that Claudia watch, and showed the forms and moves of how to fight with a hidden blade.
"There may come a time," Mario would say, "that you have no other weapons. I've seen how you always wear that bracer, Ezio. If you are ever disarmed, or caught in bed, or anything like that, you will be able to live with only that blade."
Such words, such conviction in using a tool of an assassin, made Ezio wonder about his father's journals. He'd been reading them for months, looking at his father and even his mother anew. He would ask Maria questions about Assassins, since it was clear she knew of them, But she never answered. Claudia didn't like such questions, and Ezio knew it was a topic to Not Be Discussed.
It was a year after their arrival, shortly after Claudia's seventeenth birthday, that the talk of Giovanni's work as an Assassin finally came up again.
"You can swing a sword, to be sure," Mario said outside the training ring. "But offense will not carry a battle. You must survive long enough to strike. I will teach you how to dodge."
His trainer started showing the proper footwork for dodging, something Ezio had been half doing and now started to improve with.
"You said my father was more than just a banker?" Ezio panted. The journals were swirling in his mind. He couldn't ask Maria about it, Annetta seemed to know little, but was hesitant to say anything. Claudia wouldn't hear of it, so Ezio had no one else to ask.
He had to know.
"He was an Assassin, nipote," Mario replied. "Sworn enemy of the Templars. We seek knowledge, they seek to control." His uncle nodded at Ezio's footwork. "Bene. Now you'll learn how to turn enemy attacks to your advantage."
"All this talk of Assassins and Templars. It reeks of fantasy," Ezio grunted, ducking under a lance and spinning to get in range with his sword.
"Like something from an old parchment covered with arcane writing, perhaps?" Mario smiled.
"... How did you know?" Ezio panted, dropping his wand and relaxing his guard.
"You have your father's blade," Mario replied seriously, his eyes glancing down to the bracer. "I figured you'd have the Codex page he was holding as well. And don't think I haven't seen you picking apart my library. I trust you believe me now?"
Ezio wiped sweat from his brow, despite the cold weather. "Yes. My father was... an Assassin. But why the need for such secrecy?" There was so much he didn't understand...
"Are you familiar with the Templars? One of several Knightly orders formed during the Crusades," Mario explained, not even winded. "History teaches they were disbanded nearly two hundred years ago in France. Only they weren't. Merely pushed underground where they continued their nefarious work."
"What work?"
Mario looked up to the gray skies, looking at the clouds in the distance that promised rain. "We, as Assassins, believe that order is brought about by law. Not by following God or whatever fanatics are out there. But by people coming together, talking about their differences, realizing their similarities, and agreeing on what is right." Mario shook his head. "The Templars are the opposite. They agree that law, order, is not brought about by God, but rather, they would impose their beliefs on all and hear no rebuttals."
"But, that's just the opposite of the Republic of Florence! Of all the little duchies here in Italia. We have councils, committees, it's the only way for all to get anything done-"
"And that is why the Templars seek to undermine us," Mario said, turning his half blind gaze to Ezio once again. "They want a dictatorship. We don't let them have one. We don't go out and kill whomever we please, Ezio. Your father didn't. I don't. Not at all. We support people who allow free ideas, seek knowledge, preach peace through diplomacy..."
Ezio still didn't understand. His uncle spoke like murder was a duty. A duty to some higher calling he just didn't understand...
"You're making fine progress, Ezio!" Mario switched topics back to training. "Tomorrow I'm going to teach you how to position yourself in battle. Where you stand and how you move can make all the difference."
Once spring came around again, Ulderico came to practice with a feral smile. "You're going to need armor, boy," he said gruffly, manic grin widening. "Today, we start using naked steel for your training. Consider today a day off. Go outfit yourself properly."
Ezio gaped at the prospect, but otherwise offered his own grin.
His purse was still sparse. The money he'd brought with him from Florence was all he had, though he knew Mario would donate if he ever thought Ezio in need. This was almost amusing, given that both Ezio and Claudia knew he couldn't really afford such generosities when so much other work needed to be done. The new taxations that he and Claudia set up was starting to see an increase in income, but didn't change the fact that without more people the increase would remain small. Most of the florins came in and went to a savings that both he and Claudia had only one goal in mind for: either fixing the well or reopening the mines. That would bring in more people, thus giving more people to tax and more money for the repairs needed.
That wouldn't happen now. So Ezio always made sure he used his coin miserly. He and Claudia were still planning to take Maria out of Italia, likely to Spain, so any florins he spent he made sure to do so sparingly.
Thus, when he arrived at the blacksmith, Santino, Ezio had a good idea on how to get what he wanted at a bargain.
Santino was good-natured, if facing troubles. "We have the best armor in all Italy... Has anyone seen my assistant?"
Ezio chuckled. "I don't know of an assistant, but I would like to see your armor."
"Ah! Ser Ezio, come in, come in! Rumors have abounded of your training and I've wondered when you'd come by!"
"Grazie. Can you show me what you have?"
"Si! It will be my pleasure!"
Santino had several displays of very nice armor, from steel platework to interlocked chainmail. Most of it was plain, lacking any kind of artistic flare, but given the mercenaries that went through with Zio Mario, it wasn't a surprise that they'd simply want something practical and cheap. Ezio eyed it all with a critical eye. Santino continued to extol the virtues of each piece, emphasizing the more expensive pieces. From there the blacksmith took Ezio through racks and racks of swords and daggers and bludgeons and halberds. Ezio did note that there was good work, after all his time with the mercenaries and the training, he couldn't help but admire the pieces that were particularly good.
However...
"Let's test your work," Ezio said agreeably. "Clear a table; lay out your armors, let's see what they can withstand."
"I assure you, they can handle anything a mercenary can throw at them," Santino replied with a slightly nervous smile.
Ezio raised his eyebrow.
With the smallest of sighs, Santino complied, clearing off a table and laying out a sample of each piece of armor, from the leather all the way to his most expensive metal works. Ezio took a bludgeon, its heavy-weighted end no longer as daunting as before he'd started training over a year ago. With a quick test swing to find the balance, Ezio proceeded to lay as hard a blow as he could on each piece of armor.
The metal works, every one of them, dented. The leather held well.
"My apologies, Ser Ezio," Santino said quietly. "Without my assistant, I often have to do much myself and I get... tired."
"I understand," Ezio agreed. "When times are tight, we pinch out all we can. I'll take the leather and give you some extra to cover some of the cost for this. At least you can melt the metals down and reuse them."
Santino nodded. "If only my assistant wasn't always off fornicating."
Ezio chuckled sadly. "That reminds me of Frederico..." He shook his head. "You do good work, Santino. I can see it. You just aren't consistent because you lack good help."
"Don't worry, Ser Ezio. If ever you order something from me, I promise I'll take my time on it."
"Not too much time, I hope," Ezio replied with a warm grin.
"Grazie," Santino grinned as well.
"And if you need better ore, contact this person in Florence," Ezio scribbled a name down. "He'll give good ore at a fair price."
"You are as generous as your uncle."
Now that he had some leather armor, training became much more intense. Claudia was also proceeding well, focused on a dagger as her main weapon that could be hidden in her skirts. Together, the two started discussing when would be a good time to leave.
As winter started to roll in again, Ezio spent even more time down in the town. This time, however, to brush up and focus on the task of blending in as Paola had taught him. Since coming to hide in Monteriggioni, he'd usually practiced the skill once in a while, but it had diminished as he'd focused on fighting and relaxing now that they were safe for a while. But with departure on the horizon, he was reacquainting himself with hiding in crowds and, to some degree, teaching it to Claudia as well, who wasn't the quick study he was. Ezio hoped that if the two of them could hide in crowds, they'd be less likely to be spotted by the Pazzi or anyone else. By this time, one would hope the scandal would have diminished, but Ezio didn't dare take any chances.
This didn't stop Ezio from his continued study of his father's journals.
There was something there, some ethereal quality that just kept pulling him back, going over the same passages, going over the thoughts and feelings of a man Ezio wondered if he ever really knew. It sounded like the same Giovanni, but what Giovanni spoke of was so foreign. The business trips that he took, ones that Ezio always thought were related to banking and visiting other cities to establish a presence or make a contact, were all about finding some Templar or some misguided soul.
Ezio kept pouring over the journals, wondering what it was he was missing, what it was he wasn't seeing.
April arrived with warming temperatures. Ezio and Claudia had booked passage to Spain and would be leaving in a few days time. In a way it was sad to leave the town. Ezio had known it would be a temporary stay, but it had been... good... to find such a nice place to recoup after all their losses. Maria was well enough to eat and dress herself, though she had no interest in anything than quietly praying in front of the feather box Petruccio had.
It was disheartening. Claudia, in particular, seemed to feel the strain.
"She spends all day and night in front of those feathers Petruccio used to collect. She can't let him go. I don' t know what to do."
Ezio would hold her tight in response. "Don't worry. She'll come back to us, I know it."
But he put aside such worries for the moment. Mario himself was across from Ezio in the training ring, and they were ready to spar. They stood there, both at the ready, before each charged forward to strike, naked steel ringing against naked steel. Ezio would miss Monteriggioni. Maybe, once they were settled somewhere safe in Spain, they could arrange to visit after rumors and scandals had truly passed...
Mario kicked forward, breaking Ezio's footwork and the young Florentine fell away, giving himself room to get back on his feet and recover, keeping his guard tight as Mario charged, slashing and thrusting. Ezio swung down under a swing, spinning around, but Mario danced away with more grace than his stocky figure would imply. They paused, measuring each other. His uncle feigned left then slashed right and Ezio countered, spying the opening to kick out his legs, breaking Mario's footwork this time. And as Mario tumbled, Ezio kicked the sword away in one step as the other came down on his uncle's chest, sword at the old man's neck.
"Do you say 'Uncle'?" Ezio grinned.
"Well done, nipote," Mario grinned as his nephew helped him up. "You've really come into your own."
"Thank you, Uncle, for all that you have given me."
"You're family!" Mario replied expansively with a grin. "Such is my duty and desire!"
"I'm glad you had me stay," Ezio replied sincerely, not liking how his next words would be received.
"Good! You've reconsidered leaving!" And Mario's smile just blossomed further.
Ezio looked away. "... We sail for Spain in three days."
"But nipote," Mario protested. "I've given you these skills that you might be better prepared to strike against our enemies..."
"And if they find me, I will," he replied with cold certainty.
"You want to leave, Ezio?" Mario said in growing anger. "To throw away everything your father fought and died for? To deny your heritage? Fine!" he spat. "So be it. Arrivederci e buona fortuna!" Then he stalked away.
"Uncle, wait!" Ezio called, struggling out of his practice gear. But Mario was already long gone with a speed unexpected of his age. "Why is he so upset?" Ezio turned to Ulderico, the only one left to explain.
Ulderico looked long and hard at Ezio, frowning severely into his thick beard. "How can he not be?" he said grimly. "Vieri's been harassing us ever since you first arrived. To be expected, I suppose, given his heritage..."
Ezio blinked. "What? But Zio Mario drove Vieri back the night we arrived."
Ulderico shook his head. "Your belief in people will be your undoing," he said quietly. "Would you have truly left that Gonfalonieri alone, even if you couldn't access him?"
Oh.
... Oh.
Damn it.
"Uncle!"
Ezio finally shrugged off his training gear, darting into the house in a huff. "Uncle!" he called out. He stalked into the gallery, knowing Mario would sometimes reflect there; he checked the office to find it empty; he moved upstairs, calling for his uncle enough that Claudia came out to see what was the matter. "Where is everyone?" he asked. He had really taken that long to take off his armor? Ridiculous!
But Claudia didn't know what was going on, and he was back downstairs, searching the rooms of the villa. He checked the back garden, barren and shriveled, and then back out to the front courtyard. Frustrated and cursing, he made a beeline back to the dilapidated barracks to hunt down Ulderico. "You know where Zio Mario is," he said, "Tell me."
Ulderico gave another long, measured glare, but Ezio held firm.
"They ride for San Gimignano to slay that snake, Vieri."
Damn it! Damn it! Mario would deal with Ezio's childhood rival and completely remove responsibility from him! Vieri was Ezio's problem; they had been rivals since their teen years, Ezio's flirtation always stole girls away from the other boy - even Cristina. Vieri's hatred proved to run very deep indeed, given that he had hunted Ezio down in the dead of night during their escape from Florence, and deeper still for spending the last year and a season harassing Mario's lands in order to get at him. Ezio was head of the house now, that meant he had to take all responsibilities, and he could not deny his culpability in this particular affair.
He cursed. "I wish to join them," he said in a steel voice.
Ulderico smiled at the eighteen-year-old. "You'll find what you need at the stables."
Even with a horse already saddled and waiting, it took an hour for Ezio to throw some supplies into a sack, tell his sister what had happened, grab a sword from the armory and strap on his leather armor and then ride off to Tuscany. Late a start as he had, it took the rest of the day to make the ride; and it was sunset when he finally cleared the last of the gently rolling countryside and saw the walls of the city and its great towers. He and his horse were panting when he reigned in. Now that he was here, how was he going to find his uncle?
Moving down the lazily curved lane, Ezio looked to the expanse of farmlands, trying to think. Mario would not have gone to take care of this alone, he would have taken a strong contingent of Monteriggioni's mercenaries, that implied that there would be many horses and-
There, off the road at a peasant villa that looked as dilapidated as Monteriggioni, he saw a cluster of horses. He trotted up to the herd, pulling his breath back into control, and dismounted before his steed had completely stopped. He tied the reigns loosely and circled around the half broken stonewall.
Several swords met his throat and he froze mid-step, gulping.
"Ezio?" Mario, one of the men ready to kill, immediately lowered his sword. "What are you doing here?" The rest of the mercenaries similarly sheathed their swords.
"Taking responsibility," Ezio explained. "Vieri troubles you because of me." And he refused to let this particular debt slide.
Mario studied Ezio, his half blind gaze narrow as he assessed Ezio's conviction. Then he shrugged his shoulders and waved Ezio off. "Vieri troubles us because he is a Templar and we are Assassins."
Vieri was...? Was that why he hated Ezio so? He shook his head. It didn't matter. "Either way," he said, "I wish to help."
After a significant pause, Mario smiled. "Va bene!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Then listen close..." He slapped Ezio on the shoulder before leading him further into the small yard, the other mercenaries following suit. A table had been set up with a lantern, and everyone circled around it and the map that it lit. Ezio's eyes widened slightly; a map was a rare commodity. Mario pulled out some charcoal and explained. "First we must find a way inside the city. It seems Vieri expects us: he has sealed the gates, and has sent his men to guard them. Fortunately for us the city is larger than his host. The southern gate suffers for it." Mario marked off locations of guards and patrols, Ezio marveling at the level of detail as he outlined what his plan was. He issued orders to each individual mercenary - thirty total - and outlined a plan to incapacitate, take down, or otherwise distract over a hundred of Vieri's men plus the city guards. Threads ranged from throwing money out into the streets (which made the internal banker in Ezio wince), hiring out courtesans and thieves, starting fights, even setting fire to a stable by one of the city gates, all to throw the city into confusion and allow Mario and his host to do as they pleased.
All of it, however, hinged on getting into the city.
"Alright Ezio," Mario said, at last giving orders to his nephew. "Here's how it's going to work: My men and I will distract the guards at the southern gate. Once we've engaged them, get yourself over the wall, and find a way to open the gate. Do you understand?"
Ezio blinked, realizing that Mario had just pinned the entire success of the campaign on him. His eyes hardened, his back straightening, and he nodded. "Si, Zio."
"Bene. Take these throwing knives; use them to dispatch archers. Are you ready?"
"I'm ready when you are."
"Then let us begin."
The men exited the rotting farmstead and darted over the hills to the walls of the city. Mario's mercenaries massed around the southern gate, and Ezio departed from the crowd to circle around the city wall. How was he going to get inside? Scale the wall? The other gates were obviously not an option; Mario's depiction of guard placement had proven that. He began to worry that he would let his uncle down, he didn't know how to get up a city wall, but then grace smiled down on him. Several hundred meters up, beyond the curve of the wall, was an old, ruined cart lay slightly off the road. The nineteen-year-old thought nothing of it at first, almost passed it by until he looked up to the city wall and saw that that top of the wall was in a state of disrepair. So Monteriggioni wasn't the only city low on funds...! Even then, Ezio would have moved on to find a way to scale the wall, but the combination of the broken cart and low dip in the wall made him stop.
Upon closer examination, Ezio saw no broken earth to show how the cart had crashed, no overgrowth to make one think the wagon had been there for a long time. It had been placed there, and so conveniently under the part of the wall under disrepair.
This had been part of Mario's plan. Then, why had he not explained it to Ezio?
... This had been a test. Mario wanted to see how Ezio could do under real pressure instead of practice - and he had devised this in the few minutes it had taken to realize that Ezio was volunteering to join the campaign. It was like the Florentine had learned a new facet of his uncle; the older noble had rarely been in the villa, always out in the countryside with his mercenaries doing something. Only now did Ezio realize just what a quick and sharp mind his uncle had, a keen strategist lay hidden under that laidback exterior, and the ability to make snap decisions of a leader.
Ezio found a new respect for his uncle, and he quickly hopped up the wagon and leapt up to the first handhold he saw with determination not to fail the man.
There seemed to be no guards patrolling along the wall, but Ezio wasn't about to assume it was safe for him to stay there. The ramparts were apparently in the middle of repairs; he saw scaffolding on the other side of the wall and signs of fresh mortar and brickwork. Beyond the wall was a roof where an archer was pacing about, rubbing his arms in the cool night air. Ezio pulled out one of the throwing knives his uncle had given him, he had not practiced with the small weapons nearly as much as he had with the sword or his hidden blade, but his eyes were sharp, and the man gave a grunt Ezio could only barely hear at his distance before crumpling down to the tiles.
He hopped from the scaffolding to the roof as a cloud passed over the rising moon, making him invisible, and when the skies cleared again he could see two other archers on the roofs, glaring down at the square in front of the city gates. Ezio could hear Mario and his men fighting beyond them, and the noise made his boots almost silent as he crept close and threw a knife at the second guard. The third was across the square; Ezio could not hope to jump the hundred-foot gap, and so instead he backtracked slightly and lowered himself to the ground. He edged along the city wall, sticking to the shadows and moving when the moon was covered, before making it into the square. Crouched by the well, he waited until he saw the guard's silhouette, and threw his knife. The man plunged down the tiles and to the earth with a disturbing thud.
Satisfied, he made his way to the lever control of the gate and began cranking.
"Well done Ezio," Mario said, his sword bloody and a bright smile on his face. "We're in!"
"Did I pass your test?" the young Florentine asked.
Mario blinked, surprise coloring his face, before giving a great laugh and clapping Ezio's shoulder. "More than I thought for realizing it was a test. Well done, Ezio, well done." He turned to the mercenaries. "You know what your jobs are. With luck, I'll find Vieri before things get too difficult. If they do, you know where to go. Nipote, I want you to go with this group, keep the guards distracted on the main road, and we'll see if you can fight better than the night I found you."
"Va bene."
Everyone disappeared to their tasks. Ezio and his four mercenaries waited. Their job was to take care of the guards on the central road of San Gimignano, but first the other groups had to thin the ranks with their other distractions. Once everyone could smell smoke from the stable fire, the five marched down the road, already spying a pair of guards milling about.
"Do you think they'll need us for the fire?"
"I don't know. I hope not."
"The Pazzi guards don't seem to be much good tonight."
"No, not really."
"What's that boy Vieri up to now?"
"No one knows. But something has him on edge. How else to explain all the patrols? It's like he knew something was going to happen tonight."
"Staging something to make himself look good? Why does his father allow it?"
"They're Florentines. Everything is loose there, including parenting."
Ezio felt no small amount of insult at that, and glancing at the mercenaries he saw that they were close enough to fight. With a nod, they all charged, and Ezio sought out the man who had insulted Florentines, engaging him in combat and marveling at how easy it was to deflect the sword strikes and spin around the blade to sink his own into the offender. "Florentines are only 'loose' with their love," he muttered to the man as he fell, "And that is one emotion that isn't shared nearly enough."
Several more guards had joined the fray, however, and time for talk quickly disappeared as Ezio and the four mercenaries waded through the brawl.
Ezio decided, when all was said and done, that he would thank his teacher Ulderico for his brutal training. Fighting seemed easy after him, and Ezio realized at last the critical difference between dueling and fighting. Dueling was a one-on-one, honorable affair that at best lasted ten minutes as the two combatants battled. Fights, however, were more often than naught one-on-many, and everyone was fighting for a blow, often hitting each other as well as the opponent; it was chaos, brutal, frenetic, and the man who planned around that was the one who came on out on top. Ezio circled around the flurry of swords, biding his time and evading every blow that tried to strike him, until he saw one frustrated guard make a mistake, and Ezio took immediate advantage; thrusting his sword powerfully into the man's midsection before yanking it out and landing a second (extraneous) blow into the shoulder, nearly cleaving the collar bone. It was a showy move that made several of the guards begin to fear the outcome of the fight.
Ezio followed up with circling the blade away of a second guard, spinning behind and shoving his sword up, breaking the man's arm before slashing into the side, blood and organ fluid spilling everywhere. His third guard tried to charge him from behind, but Ezio heard it and sidestepped, letting the man pass before he stabbed him in the back without a second thought.
The other mercenaries had finished their targets, and they cheered in a job well done. Ezio looked around the carnage they had created. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should feel remorse. These men were city guards, not Pazzi followers. But time for regret would have to come later, and they continued up the steps of the main street, making their way up the tiered steps to the Santa Maria Assunta.
The Santa Maria Assunta was constructed in the twelfth century, but had been expanded just a decade ago. The church was noted for its incredibly plain walls and the shocking fact that, in the city of towers, it had no tower. That error was corrected, it seemed, with the Palazzo Comunale, the city's town hall stood virtually next to the church and more than made up for it with the Torre Grossa, the tallest of the city's massive towers and thrust up into the sky. As the piazza in front of the church spread out before him, Ezio saw that it was filled with Pazzi guards and Mario's men.
"Ezio!" One of them said upon spying the young Florentine. "Your uncle is under attack and needs help. Go to him!"
Ezio needed no other orders, the very idea of letting his uncle die as his father and brothers had made Ezio a man possessed, and the nineteen-year-old flew through the throng of fighters, running his sword through any who got in his way. With every stab and thrust and slash his eyes scanned the throng for his uncle, heedless of blood and fluid that spattered everywhere and puddled in the plaza.
"Ah!" a gruff, energetic voice said. "Nipote, there you are!"
"Uncle!" Ezio cried out, savagely cutting down the man Mario was fighting. "Are you alright?"
"Of course, nipote, I'm offended you think a minor squabble like this would be dangerous to me." He slapped a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Though I will admit I'm touched you were so concerned."
Ezio released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and Mario squeezed his shoulder. "Come," he said. "My men can finish with these rabble. We'll rout out that snake and see that justice is served."
Too relieved for words, Ezio nodded. The two Auditore broke away from the fight, disappearing into the narrow streets and the massive shadows of the many towers. Once Mario was certain they were not followed, they took to the roofs, Ezio surprised that his uncle, forty-four, still had the strength and stamina to haul his thick body up to the tiled roofs. Mario caught the look and offered a grunt of a laugh and, to prove a point, darted ahead of Ezio and traversed a narrow archway spanning a street without even swaying.
The moon was quite high in the sky, now. The clouds had passed, so there was no break in vision, and Ezio followed his uncle, wondering how the older Auditore knew where he was going. As they approached the city wall, Mario turned north, slowing down slightly, casting his gaze about.
"There," he whispered, pointing down. Below were a group of men, surrounded by guards at one of the city gates. The two lowered themselves to their bellies, opening their ears and strained to listen to the conversation.
"It's settled," said a hooded man with a distinct Spanish accent. "Vieri, you will remain here to coordinate the mercenaries. Francesco will organize our forces in the city, and send word when it is time to strike. Jacopo, your job is to calm the citizens once the deed is done."
Ezio blinked, realizing the other three men, Vieri, Francesco, and Jacopo, were all Pazzi. He looked to Mario, confused, but the older man only mouthed the word "Templar" before going back to listening with intense focus. Ezio remembered what his uncle had said at the beginning of this campaign, that Vieri de' Pazzi was a Templar. Were all the Pazzi Templars? Was that man, the Spaniard, a Templar? The young Florentine's mind whirled as he thought of his father's journals and letters. Oh, academically he had accepted his father an Assassin, the fight with the Templar Order, the conspiracy of secrecy. But now he was watching the end of a clandestine meeting, in real life, of a collection of Templars as they planned... something... Ezio saw for the first time that there were things larger than himself out there, larger than his own life. The thought made him uncomfortable, he shifted his hips slightly, a tile digging into his thigh. He did not like how this revelation was making him feel.
Also, what were they planning? What city was the "deed" to be done? Florence? That seemed most obvious, but what? These were men who could organize a conspiracy to hang three innocent people, just how far did their reach stretch?
"At least now we see how far your reach extends - which is to say - nowhere at all. It proves a valuable lesson for me and my allies."
... Uberto Alberti, the Gonfaloniere responsible for his family's death, had he been a part of this, too?
Ezio shook his head, uncertain what it all meant.
Vieri was speaking, his slightly nasal voice carrying better than the Spaniard. "What of that drunkard Mario? He continues to harass my forces and I fear he'll discover what we intend."
"Keep talking, boy," Mario whispered, "And I will."
The bearded Francesco supported his son, eying the Spaniard. "He's always been trouble. Just like that bastardo brother of his."
Vieri seemed to perk; Ezio could see it even at this distance, and turned. "Then let me reunite them, Father," he said with an eager smirk on his lips.
The Spaniard placed a restricting hand on the young man, placating him by saying, "There will be plenty of time to clean up the trash when we're finished. Now, is there anything else?" No one spoke. "Muy bien," he said, the Spanish words foreign to Ezio. "May the Father of Understanding guide you," he concluded, raising a fist up to his heart.
The others quickly followed suit, bowing. "May the Father of Understanding guide you," they all said in unison. The four turned towards the city gate, ready to leave the city. Ezio turned to Mario, and his uncle nodded. Slowly, silently, they began to swing over the overhang of the roof. Halfway through, however, they heard a new voice running up the narrow streets.
"Commander! Commander!"
"What?" Vieri growled, turning and parting from the entourage.
"Mario Auditore invades the city! He comes for you!"
Mario cursed.
"Then let's not keep him waiting," Vieri said, a malicious grin in his voice.
"Where are my men?" Mario growled. "They should be here by now." They climbed back up to the roof, Ezio peering down the shadows streets and alleys before he caught a flash of light, and then another. Moonlight was being reflected off weapons, and Ezio called his uncle's attention to watch as their men immediately engaged in the gate guard, all Pazzi mercenaries. "Good," he said, grinning, relieved. "Just like I planned." He coughed awkwardly.
The two saw Vieri, true to his cowardly nature, departed from the fight and down an alley by the city wall. They tailed him from the roofs until realizing that their target was seeking to climb the ramparts and watch the fight from above. If he gave orders with such a bird's eye view, it could spell disaster for the men stuck on the ground, and with a look the two Auditore nodded. Mario began climbing down the façade of the building they were on. Ezio, impatient, spied a walled in courtyard and, judging the distance, leapt off the roof to land on the tip of the narrow wall; he needed his hands to break the fall completely God damn IDIOT what kind of fucking leap was that and then hopped more gracefully to the ground. He could hear his uncle's cursing and offered up a dashing smile before running ahead and up the steps to the ramparts.
Vieri was his responsibility, not Mario's; and Templar or not, Ezio would finish what he started on the bridge in Florence.
He ran up the stairs at full speed, barreling through three city guards and not bothering to stop, leaving them to Mario as he hopped up a pile of supply bricks and up to one of the rampart's towers. Vieri was up there already, one man - a runner, perhaps - with him as he surveyed the battle below at the city gate.
"Vieri!" he shouted, drawing his sword.
The two turned, startled, but a manic grin seemed to settle on the Pazzi's face.
"I've been looking forward to this for a long, long time," he said, drawing his own sword with slow intention.
The fight, to be sure, was not Ezio's best. His mind was full of confusing thoughts about Templars and conspiracies and his father's death, watching his family swing from the gallows in various forms and burying them in the rain with Cristina. If Uberto was connected to this conspiracy, and surely he was if what he said to Lorenzo de' Medici that day was true, then that mean that Vieri was just as responsible for his family's deaths. And for what? What was this all for? Ezio growled, rage making his moves sloppier than they should have been, but Vieri was not as skilled as he thought he was, and it made for an almost even match.
Almost.
Vieri made a strong vertical slash, his movements obvious, and Ezio sidestepped it, his hidden blade extending as he plunged it into Vieri's back, below the ribs. The target gasped, surprised, before falling to the ground with a grunt. The runner had long since disappeared.
Vieri was still groaning, and Ezio, confused and angry and desperate for answers, turned the man over and grabbed his doublet. The Pazzi cringed, hands going to his wounded back and his muscles twitching, trying to find some way to lighten the pain he was suffering. "What are you and your allies planning?" Ezio demanded. "Is this what my father discovered? Is this why he was killed?"
Vieri looked up through his pain at Ezio, at his desperation and emotion.
And he gave a snide, oily smile.
"I'm sorry," he grunted, "Were you hoping for a confession?"
And he died.
Just like that. He died.
No answers. No justifications. No excuses. Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Ezio was no closer to resolution than he had been when he killed Uberto, he felt no satisfaction, no understanding, no closure, and all he could think about was his father's last words, Frederico slowly choking, Petruccio's broken neck. How could he get past it, any of it, if he didn't even understand it? And his greatest chance for understanding, his biggest opportunity for answers, had effectively spat in his face. "Were you hoping for a confession?" Yes. Yes! He had been hoping for a confession! An explanation! An end to his unhealed pain! And to be denied that by this... this...
Ezio gave out a low growl of pain, tears in his eyes as the rage washed over him all over again.
"Pezzo di merda!" he shouted, shaking the corpse. "I only wish you suffered more! You met the fate you deserved! I only hope yo-"
"Enough, Ezio!" A hand grabbed at him and yanked him up from the body. Ezio turned and blindly threw a fist but it was blocked by a sturdy hand, and Mario stared at him in acute disappointment. "Show some respect," he said in a cold voice.
But the young Florentine was beyond reason. "Respect? Respect? After all that's happened? After what that figlio d'un cane bastardo pezzo di merda has done? The part he played in my family's death, in your brother's?" He spat at the body. "Do you think he would show either of us such kindness? Did he show Father? He didn't! He doesn't deserve-"
Mario punched his nephew, deep in the gut with such force that all air left the nineteen-year-old, and he fell to his knees, gaping and gasping for air. Mario stood over him, his half-blind gaze narrow and penetrating, as if he could see into Ezio's very soul.
"You are not Vieri," he said in a low, commanding tone. He repeated: "You are not Vieri. Do not become him. Just because we are Assassins does not mean we do our work out of anger or bloodlust. If you cannot understand that, then the last two years have been wasted on you, and I've trained nothing more than a hired blade. Be better than that, and respect what the weight of death means."
Ezio was still gasping for breath, clutching his stomach and waiting for air to enter his lungs as Mario reached into his doublet and pulled out a piece of parchment. "Take this," he said, tossing it to the ground in front of his nephew. "Read it. Perhaps you'll see a side of your target that you didn't think existed."
He walked away from the Florentine and knelt down to the body of Vieri de' Pazzi. "May death provide the peace you sought," he whispered softly. He reached up and closed the cadaver's eyes. "Requiescat in pace."
After a moment of silence, Mario looted the body of its papers and stood. "While you read that, I'll tend to my men and finish the fight below," he said, his voice still dark and disappointed.
Numb, Ezio watched his uncle go, taking in a breath and holding it, uncertain what he felt or how he even should feel. The battle was still raging below, but the sounds were only dimly recognized in Ezio's ears, and he blinked, noticing belatedly that his cheeks were wet. Rubbing his face, he reached out to examine the parchment to see that his hands were covered in blood. He read the letter.
"Messer Francesco,
"I have done as requested and spoken with your son. I agree with your assessment, though only in part. Yes, Vieri is brash and prone to act without forethought. And yes he has a habit of treating the mercenaries like playthings. I've received reports of at least three men being disfigured as a result. But I do not think him, as you put it, beyond repair. Rather, I believe the solution is a simple matter.
"He seeks your approval. Your attention. These outbursts of his are a result of insecurities borne out of a sense of inadequacy. He speaks of you often and fondly and expresses a desire to be closer to you. So if he is loud and foul and angry - I believe it is simply because he wants to be noticed. He wants to be loved.
"Act as you see fit on the information I have given you here. But I must ask that we end this correspondence. Were he to discover the nature of our conversations, I fear what may become of me.
"Yours in Confidence,
"Fra Giocondo."
...
He felt that odd understanding that he felt with Uberto. As one of four children, there were many times they all bickered for attention, even sickly Petruccio. Was it right to understand the enemy? Was that the understanding he was trying to seek?
... How did it make him feel? Too look back on all the squabbles he had with Vieri, the fight on the bridge, to know that the overbearing show of force and mercenaries was to get the attention of Francesco de' Pazzi... did Vieri even notice Ezio, or was the former noble just a convenient target of misplaced rage? Uberto and Giovanni had been close friends, even brothers, and yet he had betrayed the Auditore so readily... What did that mean?
Ezio shook his head, running his soiled hands through his hair, pulling out its tie and knotting it around his fingers.
Death... it was a heavy affair, just like Mario said. The men Ezio had killed, they all had families, and insecurities, and motivations. It was not a cut-and-dry matter of "he did this" or "he said that," it couldn't be because humans were much more complicated than that. Even the Templars and Assassins, Ezio couldn't even begin to comprehend the level of complexities of an enmity that lasted hundreds of years. And he... he was just one small piece of it, a cog in a mighty machine of destiny.
... He couldn't accept that. Ezio couldn't accept that his father's death was impersonal, meaningless in the grand scheme of things. He couldn't accept that things like this could just happen and not do anything about it. Someone had to be held accountable, the participants of the conspiracy had to pay for their actions.
But... it was not personal. How could Ezio ever resign himself with that?
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and dimly, he looked up to see his uncle had returned. The sounds of fighting were gone, and two men flanked the Auditore. The Assassin.
"Our work here is finished," Mario said, not unkindly. "Let us return to the villa."
Mute, Ezio got up to follow.
Author's Note: And Ezio makes his first assassination as an Assassin. Sort of. Before we get into that, allow us a few minute to whine and complain about the "two year" (technically 16 month) jump. You can't just gloss over these time jumps because Desmond doesn't just blip from one memory to the next (well, he does in the game, but the logic we've set up for the Animus doesn't allow for it) the best Rebecca and the others can do is "fast forward" them. The stuff Ezio does and experiences is important - especially for Desmond because that's where he learns how to fight through the Bleeding Effect. You can't just skip over that - and because of that all the future time jumps have to be covered.
The pain. It is pain. And it only gets worse, because all the future time jumps are even LONGER. Sigh.
But you'll get tired quickly of us whining. Let's talk about Ezio. Unlike Altair, Ezio has to learn the hard way about death, murder, and what it means to be an assassin. While Uberto is technically his first kill, it's clumsy and reactionary and before he really understand what he's doing. This kill, with Vieri, is much uglier; it's personal, it's confused, and it's mangled in emotions that - as an Italian and especially as a Florentine - Ezio feels on full volume. This chapter is as much a lesson for him as it is a step in his growth as an assassin.
And, as we know, all true learning is a little painful.
Next chapter: the return to Florence.