Part Seven: Avenger cum Assassin
The ride back to Monteriggioni seemed to take forever, and while the mercenaries were cheering and planning a party, Mario escorted Ezio back to the villa, where Claudia, waiting up for her brother, took one look at his emotional exhaustion and ordered him to bed. Ezio slept for over nine hours, well into the afternoon, and when he got up and washed and dressed, he pulled Claudia and Maria (though it seemed fruitless, he could not ignore her) and explained everything that had happened the previous night: the Templar meeting, the fight with Vieri, the ugly death, the letter Mario had given him, trailing off with his confused thoughts.
"I had thought that killing Uberto Alberti would be enough," he said slowly, sitting with his elbows at his knees, staring at the floor. "He was the one responsible, I thought. Now, now I know for certain that there is an entire web of people who had some kind of hand in their deaths. Father, Federico, Petruccio, they have not been avenged."
Claudia, surprisingly quiet up to now, asked, "What's changed?"
Ezio looked up to her, blinking. "What?"
"What's changed?" his sister pressed. "They still killed our family. Knowing what kind of people they are, realizing they're not monsters, changes nothing. Their motivations make them men, nothing more. In fact, it makes them even worse. The fact of the matter is, men or not, they still killed three innocent people. I don't care what kind of justification they tell themselves, they could believe they're doing God's work for all we know, but they still did it. They knew what they were doing was wrong, and they still did it."
"But am I any different?" Ezio asked. "I've killed-"
"But they were not innocent," Claudia said, her eyes intense. "Whatever I feel about Assassins and Templars, I know that Father could never kill an innocent man, and that's the difference between us and them. They would."
And in that moment it crystallized in Ezio's mind. He was not the hired blade, as Mario had accused him of, he was not looking to kill men blindly.
... He was looking for justice.
And that made him an Assassin.
Several of Giovanni's letters suddenly made sense, and at last Ezio accepted just what his father did, and why he did it, and why it was so important. It was a heavy burden, the two kills he had made, but now he fully understood it, the weight, the responsibility, and also the need. It was more than revenge, and though he doubted he could ever get past some factor of vengeance in his work, now he understood how it played out in a grander scheme, he saw the Assassin/Templar conflict for exactly what it was, and he accepted it.
He was an Assassin.
"Will we be safe?"
Ezio blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts.
"In Spain," she clarified. "Will we be safe?"
The question rattled in Ezio's head as he mulled it over.
"The Pazzi answer to another; a Spaniard," he said slowly. "I don't know who he is, I did not see his face, but it was clear that he was giving orders to the Pazzi."
Claudia sniffed. "I thought the Pazzi answered to no one, why else insult Lorenzo de' Medici over and over?" Her face softened, however, thoughts darkening. "But if he is Spanish, then Spain will not be safe. Perhaps France? Or the Germanies? No, the bankers know our name there."
"We can make no decision until we know who this Spaniard is and how far his reach extends," Ezio said darkly, thinking of Uberto. "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." How powerful were these men, the Templars, that they could order the Pazzi around and arrange for the dishonor of the Auditore and plan... whatever they were planning?
"He is Rodrigo Borgia, one of the most powerful men in all of Europe and leader of the Templar Order."
Claudia and Ezio looked up to see Mario standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he leaned on the frame, the afternoon sun casting him in golden light.
"Uncle, how long have you been here?"
"Long enough, piccina," he said gently. He continued, "Borgia is a Cardinal and the Vice-Chancellor to the Pope, has been for some seven years now."
"Then... then nowhere is safe," Claudia said, eyes wide as her face paled. She reached out and grabbed her mother's hand.
Ezio, however, had grasped a different piece of information. "As the leader of the Templar Order, that makes him responsible for the murder of my father and brothers."
"Yes," Mario said, pushing off the frame and entering the room more completely. "And he will kill all of you too, given the chance."
... Then Claudia was right, nowhere was safe. Uberto, the Pazzi, they were all just arms for the Spaniard, for Borgia. Hiding would never be enough, because they would be followed for the rest of their lives. In a sense, they were cornered already, trapped with the knowledge of how powerful Borgia was. Ezio made his decision.
"Then I must stand against him if we wish to be free."
Mario looked at Ezio for a long time; his half-blind gaze narrow again, before he smiled. "We," he said. "We must stand against him."
"But," Claudia said, still clutching Maria, "getting to him will be almost impossible!"
"Not if every other Templar has fallen to my blade," Ezio said. "Once all the men culpable for our family's death have fallen, the Spaniard will be easy to access. Father's list will guide me."
Mario nodded, approving. "Where will you go next?"
"... Firenze. Francesco de' Pazzi will share the fate of his son." And perhaps he could stop whatever the Spaniard was planning.
"A sensible next step," Mario said. "But first a day or two of rest. Tonight will be a party, celebrating our victory in San Gimignano, being hosted by Ulderico. I'd like you both to attend."
They talked a little more, and after a light breakfast - early supper, really - Ezio eventually found his way to Mario's library. He wanted to reread his father's letters, to reaffirm the decision he had been making. Coming down the staircase, he saw a thin wisp of a man standing near the doors, looking around nervously.
"Buon giorno," he greeted, walking up to him. "Is there something you need?"
"Ser Mario hired me," the man said.
"Then come with me," Ezio said, leading the man into his uncle's study. Mario was pouring over a small pile of papers, growling as he tended to do when not out in the field or enjoying his family. "Uncle, this man says you've hired him?"
"Ah, Orazio!" his uncle said expansively. "Have you finished the tour around the city?"
"Si," Orazio said. "But I'm an architect, not a miracle worker. Without money, I can't fix any of this mess. The church, the mines, the well, the villa itself, all the buildings that need maintenance, the cost of it is astronomical. The budget you gave me is more than insufficient, I need more money."
Ezio immediately thought of Claudia and all the plans they had half-made for the city, and, for the first time since the death of his family, he gave an honest, mischievous smile. "And if someone brought you money?" he asked in a sly voice.
"Then we'd be in business!" the architect said, his face brightening and his hands beginning to rub together. "You must be Ser Ezio. Am I right?"
Using a noble title?
"Uncle! I like this architect!"
"He gets very observant when he can smell money!" Mario said, laughing. "Bene, I'll leave it to you and Claudia. You two bankers already act like a wife with the pitiful amount of spending money you give me. You two go talk, I have work to do."
Ezio lead Orazio to a corner of the study for a semblance of privacy, calling up the stairs to get Claudia. They would finally settle the argument over the mines or the well it seemed. He explained to his sister quickly who Orazio was, and the two stood shoulder to shoulder, letting the man give his pitch.
"Uncle said you like the smell of money?" Ezio opened.
"If you're going to fix up this town I'm going to need it," Orazio said, eying Claudia. "I have a price list here for new shops and renovations. Just bring me gold, make a choice and I'll begin at once. If I build you a shop, you (as the landlord) can purchase goods there at lower rates. If you invest more money in the shop, you get an even greater discount. As for renovations, well... you'll be bringing the town and villa back to life. As Ser Mario tells me, it was important to your great-great-grandfather. Plus when you buy shops and renovations, you'll be increasing the number of people who visit, causing your income to increase!"
"You gave me an idiot's explanation, didn't you?" Claudia said, immediately cross. "Well, let me ask you a few questions, then: What percent discounts do you, an architect who knows nothing of business, think is fair? Actually, no, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you're just trying to be nice. Instead, I'll ask which should get higher priority, renovations to shops or improvements to infrastructure? What kind of stonework is necessary for the ramparts? How many workers will be needed to fix up the facades on the city? Where would you go to hire out? It better not be Venezia, I don't care how much they pride themselves. Also, what should be done first, the mines or the well?"
The architect gaped. He looked at Ezio.
"Oh, no," the Florentine said. "Don't look at me. Which should be first, the mines or the well?"
"... The mines? The well is less important because people can substitute wine for drink."
Claudia snorted. "Will wine clean clothes, or wash windows, or cook food? Will wine be free like water?"
And, thus, Ezio lost the battle as his piccina continued to pound the architect with questions until he capitulated to every demand she made. Soon after they gathered the meager savings they had managed for the last year and a quarter and handed it over to fix the well. Orazio looked a little rattled, but once the pouch of ducats was in his hand he immediately brightened, practically hopping out of the villa with a cheery "Buon viaggio!"
Claudia was not nearly so pleased.
"Our uncle is a monster," she hissed as the man departed. "This is outrageous!"
"What?" Ezio asked.
"Since someone has decided we're going to stay here, that means we have to try and find the money to do all the repairs that architect listed. You've seen the accounts, Ezio, there isn't any. We barely had enough to pay for the well. Uncle won't be any help, you've seen how he handles money."
Ezio shrugged. "I bet I can bring in some money," he offered.
"Oh, grazie, Ezio," Claudia said in utter sarcasm, "Just what I need, more work. I'll be stuck behind a desk for the rest of my life thanks to you and Uncle Mario."
"It won't be that bad!"
"Says the man who will be gallivanting all over Italia," Claudia quipped, sniffing in disdain. "You're going to let all the work fall to a woman, you know that?"
Ezio smirked. "Not just any woman, my piccina. I wouldn't trust any other woman with our finances."
Claudia flushed, and Ezio knew he had won the argument, and took satisfaction in that since he lost the fight over the well.
"Fine," she groused, unhappy that she hadn't gotten her way. "Good luck finding money in Firenze, and know that any taxes we receive go straight to my dowry."
That made Ezio pause, and he looked at his sister with wide eyes.
She caught he gaze and leveled a defensive glare of her own. "Did you want me to be a spinster?" she demanded. "We lost everything in Firenze, including my dowry. Disgraced as we are, the only way I'm going to get married is if my dowry is impressive. By the time it is, I'll be an old maid anyway, so I'll have to settle for whoever will have me."
Ezio clutched his sister's shoulders, eyes intense. "That's not going to happen," he said in a rough voice. "You will only marry the man you love, you will not settle for some... money-grabbing..."
"Then you'll have to bring in a lot of gold, won't you?" Claudia asked, an evil smile on her lips.
"Yes, I-" He blinked, realizing how Claudia had just cornered him.
... Of all the...!
The pair burst out laughing, startling Mario in his study and several of the house servants, they laughed so hard they cried; it was the first time either of them could honestly do so, and it was a sign of hope for the future.
As the sun set, Ezio and Claudia changed into their finery - well, "finery" in context of their meager wardrobes and lack of formal wear - and left Annetta with Maria as they exited the villa and went down to the repurposed stage. Every mercenary in Monteriggioni was there, as was their wives and extended family, all at varying levels of sobriety as food lay half eaten on tables. Everyone was laughing and playfully punching each other or pouring wine, many had red faces, and Ezio quickly steered his sister away when he saw one mercenary buried in the bare chest of a woman - presumably his wife.
"And here he is!" a familiar gruff voice called out over the din. Mario emerged from the crowd, red from forehead to neck, and threw a sloppy arm around his nephew. "Our champion, Ezio!"
"All hail Ezio!" toasted, clinking their mugs together before chugging the wine.
"I see you've wasted no time starting the celebration," Ezio said with a wide grin. He loved parties!
"And why not?!" Mario scoffed, hiccupping and swaying slightly on Ezio's shoulder. "You've done us a great service, nipote! With Vieri dead, Tuscany will grow quiet once more. Do you know what that means?"
"No more work!" said one mercenary.
"We can drink all day!" said another.
"And with whores!" said a third. Everyone stared at him. "What?! It's true!"
Everyone laughed.
For four hours the men drank and partied, some collapsing wherever there was room, some staggering home with their families, more than a few challenging each other to contests either in drink or in battle - though the battles were more often than not a source of great entertainment - watching drunkards engage in an epic fight was a sight to behold. Ezio guarded his sister most of the night, even as he himself became tipsy, from mercenaries that thought she was "very pretty" or "quite beautiful." Eventually, however, she settled into a small cluster of women and engaged them on conversation. Once Ezio thought it was safe, he engaged in his share of challenges, mostly fights, though he did have one drinking challenge that he won.
The next morning left almost everyone with headaches, though Ezio was proud to admit his was mild compared to others, and after a full breakfast it was gone. Not so for the mercenaries, and Ezio left them to fight their hangovers.
Mario was in his study, having drank more than anyone and yet looking perfectly composed and lucid. Ezio's respect for the man raised another notch upon seeing that.
"Ezio! My boy. I think it's time I showed you something."
"Yes, Uncle?"
Mario pulled out an old, leather bound portfolio, opening it up to a small collection of ancient looking bits of parchment.
"Look familiar?" he asked with a grin.
"Other Codex pages..." Ezio said, quickly scanning through them. Several were pictures, whoever wrote them had a fair hand, but not the skill of a painter.
"Yes, your father managed to find and translate a few before he..." Mario trailed off, never able to express in words what had happened to his brother. Instead, he watched as Ezio looked over the pages, blinking before he realized something. "Uncle, I have more of these. Wait a moment." With skill of over a year of practice, Ezio unclasped his bracer and pulled out the parchments that Leonardo had discovered when deciphering how to fix it.
"Here," he said, handing over the pages.
Mario looked through them quickly, frowning as he observed the quillwork. "This is not your father's work," he said. "Someone else has translated it."
"Leonardo da Vinci," Ezio explained. "A friend." Mario gave a measured gaze, but Ezio crossed his arms, daring his uncle to refute him. His uncle shrugged and instead pointed to the various pages.
"Do you see the way the words cross from one page to the next?"
The young Florentine blinked, surprised by the question, and looked at the pages in more detail. "There is something underneath it all," he muttered, examining the edges of the pages, the intricate boarders and curious stray lines of ink that seemed to serve no purpose and were contrary to the steady hand that scripted the pages. "Some kind of map? Where is it supposed to lead?"
Mario shrugged. "Your father and I managed to make out bits of a prophecy scrawled across the pages. It was written by an Assassin like us, who long ago held a 'Piece of Eden'. His name was Altair. He spoke of something powerful and ancient hidden beneath the land."
"What is it?"
"What indeed," Mario said. "Solving that little mystery is exactly why we collected these pages."
Ezio nodded, turning to his uncle. "Then let me help. It's time I take on my father's work. All of it. I'll start with the pages you took from Vieri, Leonardo will decode it for us when I get to Firenze."
"Bene," Mario said, nodding in turn and smiling slightly, perhaps in pride. "There is one other thing you should see." And with that he turned to the bookshelf behind his desk, hands going to one well-thumbed book and pulling at it. Ezio startled when he heard the strain of pulleys and counterweights, and watched in surprise as the entire bookshelf pulled back and slid to the side, revealing a set of stone stares in stark contrast to the marble floors of the villa.
Mario said nothing, instead gesturing for Ezio to follow, and the nineteen-year-old did, down a dark series of steps that twisted around and deep underground, exiting to a massive amphitheatre of some kind, light streaming down from above. Ezio was surprised to recognize the light came from grating of the back garden of the villa, he had always thought is covered a cistern of some kind...
"This is the Sanctuary," Mario said with an expansive gesture. "It was built by my great-grandfather to honor the memory of the Assassin Order and protect its secrets. Look around!" he added, stepping down and into the circular room, spinning around with arms wide in pride. Behind him stood seven impressive statues, standing perhaps a dozen feet tall apiece and depicting, not gods or deities, but rather men and woman of remarkably different costumes - even time periods. "These are the assassins who guarded the freedom of humanity when it was most threatened," Mario explained, taking Ezio to each statue.
On the left were three men, each pedestal giving their name and their deed: Qulan Gal, who killed the horse of Genghis Khan with a bow and arrow; Darius, who killed Xerxes with a hidden blade - the first recorded use, the pedestal noted; Wei Yu, who killed Qin Shi Huan with a spear. On the right was another male assassin: Leonius, who stabbed Caligula with a dagger. There were also, Ezio was surprised to see, two decidedly female assassins: Amunet, who killed Cleopatra with a snake; and Ilanti, who killed Alexander the Great with poison.
Each pedestal had a circular recess, and Ezio could just make out small holes along the recess. Beneath each recess was an odd relief: a skull enclosed in a triangle of some kind, deep red. Was it a symbol of their kills, or their deaths? Ezio wasn't sure.
The central statue was of a man in long robes, a hidden blade much like Ezio's extended, and holy shit that's him! looking down seemingly right at Ezio. The statue was behind iron bars, however, and at its feet was a mannequin holding an odd-looking set of plate armor. It was of a type Ezio was not familiar with, and he looked in askance to his uncle.
"And this is the armor of Altair," he said. "Little is known about Altair's life, but his armor is light and very strong. I'd give it to you, but I don't know how to retrieve it. My great-grandfather told me it would remain locked away until all its protectors were made whole. I heard rumors of crypts located throughout Italia, hidden tombs filled with treasure where these six were moved centuries ago. Maybe they have something to do with it. In my younger days, I sought the six myself... with no success." Mario gazed at the statue, a nostalgic look on his face, one Ezio had learned meant that Mario was thinking of Giovanni. Before he could say anything, his uncle turned back to his nephew. "Perhaps you will have better luck."
"... Perhaps," Ezio said.
"Well, once I know our men are sober, I'll make arrangements to depart for Firenze. I have a contact that I'll apprise of the situation and inform them of your visit."
"... 'My' visit? You are not coming?"
"No, Ezio. A man must always walk on his own two feet; he cannot always rely on people around him. I was a crutch for you earlier, but I can't and won't be forever. You must learn how to do these kills properly."
In the large amphitheatre, surrounded by statues of great Assassins, under the gaze of the mysterious Altair, Ezio nodded, understanding the gravity of the declaration. Mario left Ezio to explore, and to be certain, the young Florentine examined every nook and cranny of the Sanctuary, admiring every detail of the statues, studying the inscriptions on their pedestals, and looking at the strange armor at the feet of the central statue.
Ezio sat there, staring up at the statue. Altair... was it? Speaking of things powerful and ancient. Was he a learned man? He looked down to the pages, still in his hand. One of them had been translated by his father.
"I had thought Adha would be the one to lead me to rest, that I might lay down my blade and live as a normal man. But now I know such dreams are best left to sleep... Her face. I try to banish it from my mind as I remember the days and nights during which I chased her Templar captors across the sea. I almost got to them in time. Almost. If I had only been faster. Instead, I held her lifeless body in my arms – saw the terror reflected in her fixed, unblinking eyes..."
Ezio blinked, somewhat startled as he felt a deep resonance in the distant assassin's words. If only he had been faster, he would not be haunted by the vision of his family swinging on the gallows. If only he had been smarter and seen Uberto's treachery. If only he had been quicker to realize the danger Giovanni had sensed. To feel such a connection to a man from who knew how many years ago... Ezio was struck utterly still. Somehow hungry, he continued reading.
"I hunted each man – one by one – until all responsible were gone from the world. But there was no joy in this. No satisfaction or release. Their deaths did not bring her back. Did not heal my wounds."
Ezio nodded, having only recently realized that his work would not bring any kind of satisfaction, that he had been a fool to think that killing Uberto or Vieri would give him some kind of release. It was as if this man, Altair, was speaking directly to Ezio's heart.
"After that, I was certain I would never again feel for a woman as I had for her.
"I am fortunate to have been wrong."
"At least you were able to find happiness," Ezio said softly, looking up to the statue. He thought of Cristina, as he often had for the last year, and wished she had come with him, that his training had been spent with her at his side, giving him the comfort he had so often needed but could not grant himself. He was returning to Florence, perhaps... A small smile tugged at his face. Perhaps there was still a chance.
The thought made him smile, and he spend the rest of the day reading through the pages Mario had shown him, learning a little bit of a man named Altair Ibn-La'Ahad.
Ezio arrived late afternoon to Florence. It felt strange to be back there. He, in some way, expected it to be the same as when he left. Cold, wet, barren, dark. But it was mid-April. Easter was only a week away and already early-blooming flowers were hanging from windows, growing up trellises, fresh fruits being sold.
It was... both good and bad to see life have moved on after the horrendous deaths of his father and brothers. Walking the streets brought up many happy memories, from Federico teaching him how to flirt in the red-light district, to picnics with his family, to sneaking Petruccio out of the house for a morning. So many happy memories, from the good life he'd lead.
Memories that would never happen again.
With a silent sigh, Ezio lowered his hood, seeking to take no chances and went deeper into the city as the sun continued to set. It was true dark when he arrived at Paola's, many customers crowding the main hall of the mansion, entertained by low sighs and silent whispers.
Ezio waited for a moment, surveying those around him with fresh eyes after a year of training. He could now spot who had training and who lead a softer life, tell those who fought professionally from those like he had been, trained to survive a duel but little else. Ezio was surprised to note that the courtesans had a level of grace to suggest that they had training of some kind, though Ezio didn't dare guess. He just remained in the shadows, hiding amongst many, waiting.
Paola appeared on an overlooking balcony, checking her girls and Ezio stopped hiding, stepping into view, changing his posture enough for only a trained eye to see him. Paola noticed him right away, and gestured for him to come join her.
Ezio would admit some slight discomfort at being in the brothel madam's private room, but none of it showed. He owed this woman far too much.
"I'm glad you were able to return, Ezio," she said, her mysterious eyes twinkling. "And I see you've practiced what I've shown you."
"A useful skill, to be sure," he replied.
She smiled, looking more like a woman of higher stature than what she truly was. "You've learned other skills in your time away."
Ezio smiled. "I've tried to keep busy."
Paola gave a warm laugh.
"I've yet to be able to repay you for all that you've done for my family," Ezio started, but Paola cut him off.
"You needn't do anything," she said. "Your father, he did something like this for me once. I was repaying a debt of my own. You needn't consider yourself owing me anything."
Ezio shrugged. He still felt he owed her, but trying to argue about it would be fruitless. He would think of another way to repay her. "Whether I'm indebted or not, I am here for a favor."
"Of course," she demurred, starting to pour some tea.
"Put bluntly, I need a place to stay. At least until I can learn how Firenze has changed in my absence."
Paola nodded. "Consider it done. You may stay in the room you were at previously."
Ezio bowed, feeling the fatigue of a long day's travel.
Paola gave him more than tea, calling up for a proper supper. Thankfully, she left him to his crooked thoughts. His happy memories of Florence that always lead to swinging gallows. There were only two things, people, that weren't truly tainted by his sundered family and traitorous status.
One was Leonardo. Not much seemed to affect that brilliant painter, but Ezio couldn't help but admire the man's genius. It had been over a year, but he looked forward to seeing the flighty man again. To talk of mixing paints, the proportion of the face and body, the composition of art. During his free time at Monteriggioni, Ezio had started trying to paint, hoping to find an outlet for his grief and sorrow. He wanted to paint his lost family but didn't have enough skill to do them justice.
But visiting Leonardo wouldn't just be talk of painting. He'd also have a Codex page translated. So, while seeing his friend would be visiting a memory untainted by the massacre of half his family, it would still be a trip of business.
Cristina, however...
She held Ezio's heart. He dreamed of her often, wondered if she was well or if his association with her had brought trouble. Ezio had remained faithful to her and wondered if it would really be all right to see her. To possibly bring more trouble to her.
But Ezio had not seen her in over a year. He loved her desperately and wished to see her, kiss her, hold her once more.
In the end, as any Florentine would, Ezio bowed to love's demands.
He slipped out of Paola's in the gray dawn, his gate one of a satisfied customer slinking home to his wife. The sun continued to rise as he carefully weaved through the streets, reaching the home of the Vespucci. He climbed easily, faster than he had last time as he'd had plenty of practice in Monteriggioni, and slipped into her room as she was brushing her hair.
Cristina gasped once she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her brush dropping to the floor with a clatter as she stood up so quickly her seat was knocked over.
"Ezio!" she cried out. "What are you doing here?"
Ezio couldn't stop the smile that blossomed on his face as he stepped forward. "I only just came back to Firenze..." he said, not wishing to explain the ugly task he had before him. "Look at you! As beautiful as ever." He cupped her cheek in his hand, admiring her soft features and beautiful eyes.
She smiled at him briefly before frowning and turning her face into his hand. "But... Oh, Ezio... I... It's been over a year!"
"And I've thought of nothing but you," he said quietly, reverently, as he took her small hand in his, his smile unable to leave his face.
"Oh, but, Ezio..." She pulled her hand away, stepping back and away, her tone forlorn.
"What is it?" he asked, gently holding her arm to stop her.
"I'm engaged to be married!" Cristina said in frustration and sadness.
Ezio's hand dropped as his jaw did. Too late. I'm always too late for the ones I love...
"My father kept asking me to choose," she said sadly. Her eyes were his, her heart was his, but he'd been away with no promise of coming back. What a fool he'd been! "I thought I would never see you again..."
A scream pierced the room before Ezio could reply. Cristina stepped to him for a moment, before turning and heading to the window, looking down to the streets. Ezio stepped behind her, hidden by the curtain and shadows and saw a servant woman down in the streets, her hands cupped by her mouth as she called up,
"It's Manfredo! He's going to kill him!"
"What!?" Cristina gasped, her hands gong to her mouth.
"Some guy he lost money to!" the servant's companion explained. "He's dragged him out to the end of the new bridge!"
Cristina stepped back in shock, her hands dropping uselessly to her sides.
Ezio, however, didn't understand a word of it.
"Who the hell is Manfredo?"
"My fiancé..." Cristina whispered.
Ezio looked to the woman he loved. Really looked at her. There was no doubt in his mind whatsoever; she loved him. Greatly, passionately; just as desperately as he loved her. It was in her stance, in her voice, in every batting of her eye. But she did care for this Manfredo. If forced to choose, Ezio had no doubt that she had made her selection carefully, thoughtfully, planning according to what would be best for her. Someone she could spend time with, be with, not be completely unhappy with.
This Manfredo had something in him that caught Cristina's eye. Not the same way Ezio had, but enough for him to be redeemable if he loved her as well and wasn't just going for her dowry.
Ezio nodded, swiftly leaping out the window and climbing back down to the streets. Cristina called out to him, but he was already dashing southward.
Manfredo was engaged to her. He could provide a stable life, one without danger, unlike Ezio.
This Manfredo had better be worthy of her.
Racing through the streets was child's play. He knew every back alley and throughway like the back of his hand and this early in the morning, those who were up were still half asleep as they were going about the start of the day. Shops were only just opening, workers heading to their jobs. Ezio could maneuver through these sparse crowds in almost no time.
He reached the Arno swiftly and headed to the new bridge, just barely started when he'd left and now crossing half the span of the Arno.
"I'll pay you back, I swear!" a voice cried at the end of the bridge.
"It's too late for that now," a gruff voice grunted back.
"It wasn't my fault! I was going to have the money for you today!" the first voice whined. "But a payment came in late!"
There were three thugs standing over a kneeling man, dressed as a well-to-do merchant. The thugs clearly weren't going to hear any excuses and one lifted a club to start extracting payment from Manfredo.
Ezio didn't even pause in his running. He was barreling into the thug on the left, sending the man diving into the cold water below. The others didn't even have time to react as Ezio grabbed the middle grunt's head and brought it down swiftly to his knee, knocking out the thug's teeth and rendering him unconscious. The last hoodlum had only barely unsheathed a dagger when Ezio came bearing down on him, grabbing the hand and twisting, breaking fingers, wrist, and then kicking the man swiftly in the groin with his armored shin to make him a soprano.
The fight, if it could be called that, barely even winded him. He swiftly dumped the two thugs into the Arno to join their friend and whirled to Manfredo.
"Grazie Messere!" Cristina's fiancé bowed and smiled, using a handkerchief to wipe sweat from his brow. "You don't know how close-"
But Ezio couldn't stand it. He had to know. He grabbed this fop by the collar and leaned him back over the Arno as well.
"Whoa! Hey!" the merchant protested. "Wait! What are you doing!?"
"Do you love her?" Ezio demanded harshly.
"What?"
"Do you love her?" Ezio bellowed. "Cristina! The woman you are about to marry!"
Manfredo paused as, in a split second, he seemed to understand exactly what Ezio was asking, why Ezio was asking, and just who Ezio was. The panic left his face, his eyes flashed, and he answered seriously, if still in a panicked voice.
"Yes, I do! I swear, I do. Kill me here and I will die still loving her," he said in the full flourish of a Florentine.
And if ever there were a people that Ezio understood, it was Florentines. He'd seen that spark, heard the passionate plea, and pulled him back from over the Arno River.
"You are never going to gamble again," he said flatly.
"Never, Messere," Manfredo solemnly vowed.
"You will be a good husband to her. Or I will hunt you down and kill you myself."
He threw the man aside, too full of emotion to be gentle in the slightest.
Manfredo nodded. "It shall be my life's work, Ser Ezio," he said quietly. "I will never risk her through anything I do. I swear it."
Ezio nodded chaotically, too much energy coursing through him. Then he turned on his heel and left. He had made sure. Manfredo would be a good husband.
The merchant was a good man, if he suffered weaknesses. He now understood the dangers he'd suffer if Cristina were hurt, or at least, Manfredo had awakened to the dangers he'd suffer if he didn't straighten his life.
Ezio stalked away. He may have waited for Cristina, but she didn't have the guarantee when he'd left. Like the rest of Firenze, she'd had to move on.
He really hated always being too late to grasp the people he cared for.
As Ezio stalked back into the streets of his hometown, he spied the woman this had all been about rushing towards the river to get to the half-built bridge.
... Ezio had never been able to say goodbye to his family. He'd last seen his father assuming that the situation would be straightened out. Then they were all swinging from the gallows.
In this at least, Ezio could give a proper goodbye.
He passed her unnoticed, then grabbed her into an alley still dark in the rising sun, and held her against the wall. Ezio kissed Cristina. Passionately. Hungrily. Desperately. He kissed her for the last time, to say farewell, to give all the love he had for her as his last gift.
As she always did, she melted into the kiss, reaching up to pull his face closer. Against Ezio's will a hand wandered down to her bottom, pulling her closer in the embrace, pouring all his feelings into this last encounter as much as he could. But he kept a hand on the rough stonework of the alley so that he remembered where they were. So that he wouldn't lose himself.
So that he could pull away.
Cristina looked at him with adoring eyes.
Ezio reached deep into his soul to get the strength.
"He's fine." Ezio said quietly, his voice a little shaky, stepping back further. "He'll make a good husband. I made sure of it." It was the only thing he could do for her as she moved on. He couldn't hold her back any more.
So he turned and left, unable to face any more.
"Wha-what?!" Cristina cried behind him.
She started to follow him, and Ezio learned lessons learned from the matron of a brothel to disappear into the crowds before his will wavered any more.
Ezio wandered the streets pointlessly for a good chunk of the morning and into the afternoon as well, his heart truly broken and due to his own foolishness. Cristina, the love of his life, would be happy; he'd ensured it. He should be happy for her. But at the moment, he was too lost in grief of losing yet another piece of the life he'd led.
He stopped at a tavern for lunch, munching on roast fowl and slathering honey on his bread. The wine he only sipped. For all of his ruined life, he knew that he still had a grizzly task before him, and would need his wits about him. Florence may have forgotten the scandal surrounding his family, but Ezio didn't trust anything yet. Not with the Pazzi still in the city.
So after lunch, Ezio pushed aside his grieving heart and headed to a small studio belonging to his friend Leonardo da Vinci.
He knocked and an assistant let him in. The workshop was still a mess as it was last time. If anything it was even more of a mess. Half-built contraptions with barely started paintings with beakers of something Ezio didn't even care to identify. The assistant disappeared to another room and Ezio just looked around at the clutter, chuckling to himself.
"Ezio...?" Leonardo turned and his whole face lit up. "You're still alive!" The artist rushed forward, grasping Ezio's broader shoulders and smiled widely.
"Look at this place!" he chuckled back. All the paintings showed that Leonardo, as his mother had predicted, was being noticed as a painter and the contraptions showed the painter still was as fanciful and flighty as before. "The past year has been kind to you," Ezio said with a grin. It was good to see a friend doing well.
And still able to be his friend.
"But you are not the same at all, are you...?" Leonardo said quietly.
Ezio looked down and away. Leonardo would notice. Ezio had been training for a long time now, he walked differently, held himself differently, he blended instead of commanding attention. But with such a quick mind and eye for detail, of course his friend would notice. It was a quiet acknowledgement of what had happened to Ezio's family and the changes it had brought him.
Ezio had dwelled enough on his losses for one day, so he switched topics. "I was hoping you might be able to help me with something."
"Anything for you, my friend!" And Leonardo was beaming once more.
The young Florentine let out a chuckle, and pulled out the Codex pages that he'd recovered from Vieri de' Pazzi.
"Aha!" Leonardo snatched it right out of his hand, his eyes alight in curiosity and not even needing Ezio to explain. "You've found another one! How exciting!" The painter set the Codex down on about the only clear space of table that existed in the workshop. "Hmmm. This one is tricky to break... Clever in its use of ancient languages. Maybe if I just... Oh... Oh! It seems to be a manual for different assassination techniques," Leonardo smiled at Ezio innocently.
The young Florentine glanced around nervously. "May I see it?" No doubt Leonardo had heard of his killing of Alberti, and he'd repaired the hidden blade. Leonardo was a genius, there was no doubting he'd put two and two together and end up with assassin. Yet the painter never mentioned it, never discussed it.
Ezio appreciated the discretion.
Still, he didn't want Leonardo punished for harboring an Assassin as he had last time. He moved to take the Codex page, to study such techniques, but Leonardo batted his hand away.
"Wait! What's that?! It's not so much a design this time... Just a series of sketches. Hmmmm. What to make of all this... Oho! Of course!" Leonardo grabbed Ezio's left arm and started to study the hidden blade. "And why not! What an inspired idea!"
"What is it?"
"Something to help you with your work!" Leonardo smiled brightly. "Oh, to build from scratch! How intriguing! I've not done metal work before, not like this! I wonder what sort of tensile strength I can manage... maybe mixing steel with another metal? But it must remain light..."
Ezio chuckled as Leonardo was once more stuck in his own mind with designs and equations.
"Can you make it for me?" he asked.
The painter nodded. "Take the page. This design should only take a day or two. Eh Vincenzio!" Leonardo called out.
"I'll be back tomorrow then."
"Nonsense!" Leonardo grabbed Ezio's arm before he could leave. "I'll need measurements, you'll have to test a few things, you're the only one around here with the strength to... No! You must stay here tonight!"
Ezio laughed. It would give him a chance to talk of painting and perhaps how to best capture the likenesses of his deceased family.
He spent the rest of the day and well into the night discussing and talking with his friend Leonardo. It was amazing to watch how his mind flitted from one subject to the next, never settling on something unless it truly captured every aspect of his attention.
Ezio did indeed learn more of painting techniques, particularly when Leonardo kicked him to a workroom of assistants so that he could test something of the metalwork needed for the design. The assistants, Vincenzio in particular, helped Ezio get a better grasp of proportion and how to make paint show details usually too small to actually include. How to make eyes seem to follow you through a trick of perspective. The assistants made him do sketches and showed Ezio how to improve even his under-sketches to help a painting take form.
Then Leonardo was back and measuring Ezio's right forearm and having him stab clay with a dagger and measuring the depth of each strike. Indeed, Ezio was surprised at how a flighty and fanciful person could be so demanding. But he accepted the busy work as a balm to his aching heart.
"I've done it!" he exclaimed that afternoon, after Ezio had come back with the assistants from a lunch at a local tavern. "Come quickly! Look! Take it. Try it."
"Thank you, Leonardo."
"No problem!"
Ezio strapped on the bracer and practiced extending the blade and retracting it with his right hand. It was definitely useful. Already, he could see how his usual fighting with the single hidden blade could be augmented, possibly even improved upon. And he smiled that he could even think like that thanks to Ulderico's training. The assassination techniques he had read the night before once all others were asleep would take practice once he was back at Monteriggioni. Two of them required being able to heft a dead-weight body almost one-handed and the other required a precision in leaping that Ezio was certain he could accomplish from his running and leaping from buildings, but wanted to practice to make sure he even could do so accurately every time. This was not something to practice in battle, and the time it would take to refine it wasn't his.
But it would be once he'd taken care of Francesco de' Pazzi.
Looking back to the painter, Ezio smiled once again.
"Truly, thank you my friend."
Leonardo actually blushed, before waving it aside. "Truly, it is nothing anyone else wouldn't do for a friend."
Ezio grasped his shoulder and nodded. "And a truly good friend you are. I must be off."
"Take care," Leonardo smiled. "And if you find any other interesting puzzles, let me know!"
Ezio chuckled as he left. It was late afternoon now and he made his way back to Paola's mansion. He didn't like having a single place to stay. After the disaster that had required him to leave Florence, he couldn't quite wrap his head around staying somewhere predictable, but there was something he needed to ask Paola.
The past two days he'd wandered and listened. Firenze was tense and shifting. Lorenzo de Medici was Il Magnifico, a patron of the arts and one who always made the right introductions between people. But he was known to be harsh to those who crossed him, and the Pazzi seemed to be spreading rumors of exaggerated cruelty, making some sort of silent grab for power. The people were starting to waver in their support of the Medici and the tension this generated was palpable.
However, as much as Paola's network of information was vast, one thing Ezio had learned from Mario was that the courtesans had only one branch of knowledge. To find Francesco, Ezio would need the information network of someone else.
Paola treated him to dinner in her room again that night, asking how Leonardo was.
"I do wonder if the two of you have had an encounter with the way you inquire after him," Ezio chuckled.
Paola blinked, clearly surprised about something, before let out a laugh that was neither sexy nor seductive, but full of humor and amusement. "Ah, to be so young and innocent again," she gasped between giggles. "Let's just say that he and I have similar tastes."
Ezio wondered what sort of bedroom acts they might have in common that would make Paola laugh so, but brushed it aside. He sipped his wine and grabbed some berries.
"There's someone I need to 'see' while I'm here," he said seriously, switching subjects. "I cannot approach him publicly... Your girls are magnificent, but is there someone specific-"
"La Volpe," she replied quietly.
"The Fox...?"
Paola raised an eyebrow, her mysterious smile back in place. "How can anyone know one specific fox, as they all look alike?"
Ezio chuckled, acknowledging the hint for more subtlety. "I understand. But do you know where a fox might roam...?"
"Perhaps, near the Mercato, where the thieves dwell... Be safe, Ezio."
Author's Notes: Lots of little things in this chapter, all leading up to, er certain events.
More character development of Ezio as he realizes what the role of an assassin is and what role he plays in it. Note his relationship with Claudia. The two are quite close after everything that's happened; and that important for the setup of Brotherhood - which we haven't written yet but you all sort of know what's coming anyway. Ezio's family in general is important, because that's what all of this is for, their safety, and neither of us are fond of the fact that they get shuffled off in the game - Maria doesn't even speak until the bitter end, and it's a great injustice that Ezio doesn't mention or think about them over the course of the game. It's even worse in Mr. Bowden's books, they're shuffled off to a convent (and Claudia considers joining it!) and utterly forgotten about. One of the greatest moments for us in Revelations was when we realized that Ezio wrote letters to Claudia. Regularly. The same goes for Mario - Monteriggioni is HIS, and yet except for memories he's never there. We can at least explain that away, but still. And so we throw in the family whenever we can for the novelization.
Vieri mentions last chapter that Mario is a drunkard, and he seems to have that reputation, even though he's always stone sober in all of his memories, and so we assumed that he was one of those rare people that don't suffer hangovers. Ezio has a hint of that talent, too, but he doesn't drink as often as Mario is rumored to.
Also note that Ezio shows a little maturity with Christina. Sort of. He means well, he just hasn't realized yet that women have minds, too. You'd think with figures like Mario or Paola (or even Claudia, but that's going to be a complicated story) he'd know, but we've already established he's a little slow on the uptake sometimes.
Which leads us to Leonardo and Ezio the Dim. We have fun with that. Lots. And lots. And lots of fun.
Next chapter: fox hunting, tomb raiding, and this thing called the Pazzi conspiracy. What could go wrong?