Something longer for you, but not by much :P Seriously, the chapter'll function better like this XD Enjoy!
March 16th, 1500. Rome.
'Ezio, are you alright?'
The pain was getting worse. Ezio had almost fallen from his horse, and he clutched the edge of his saddle so hard his knuckles turned white. His forehead rested for a brief moment on the neck of the horse, which twitched its ears in agitation, and he grimaced into its hide.
He had to carry on. He had no time to be ill.
'Sì.' He murmured, and, with extraordinary effort, righted himself again and attempted a reassuring smile at Machiavelli, who did not seem all too convinced. His own mare stamped her feet restlessly as he reined her in and gave Ezio a critical look.
'You do realize you are no more than human, and that it is natural to show weakness?'
Ezio bristled at the word. 'I'm fine. Just tired, is all. I'll send the recruits on my next missions, and give myself a break.'
Machiavelli raised an eyebrow, his look lingering on Ezio for a moment longer. 'Very well.' He conceded, and urged his mare into a slow walk. Ezio did the same, and did his best to ignore the pain. It didn't come in phases anymore – it was permanent – lurking in the back of his head in a throb and striking harder each time. He would have a Dottore see to him later.
'Cesare Borgia has assembled a personal army – a group of Templars key to his order and lethal to our cause.' Machiavelli continued. 'It is crucial we deal with these agents as swiftly as possible. They pose as figures in Romano society – one a blacksmith, one a courtesan, even as far as a barbiere. They work to terrorise the people, and bring them to order. If we have any hope of disabling Cesare's forces, we must – Ezio!'
The pain had reached its climax, and had had Ezio's vision go black as he toppled off his horse. It whinnied in panic, and stamped its feet as Ezio staggered forward, tripping over his boots. Everything in him was pulling him forward, and blinding white pain flashed behind his eyes. He moaned, his hand over his eyes as Machiavelli called after him – but his blood was roaring in his ears. He couldn't hear him. Every thought he had tugged him forward. He had to go somewhere. He had to be somewhere – it was calling to him –
'Ezio, what are you doing?' Machiavelli demanded as Ezio reached for his horse again – its eyes rolled in fear, and almost bucked as Ezio hauled himself back on.
'I need – I need to go.' He managed, taking the reins in a feeble grip – the pain lashed out again, and he felt his head snap back. Barely aware of himself, he hauled himself on and kicked the horse into action – and it lurched into a gallop.
'Ezio!' Machiavelli yelled after him, urging the mare into speed – but it was too late – all he could see were the hooves of Ezio's horse kicking up dirt in the road. Machiavelli wheeled the stamping mare around and raised his fingers to his lips, from which a shrill whistle sounded. Barely a moment passed before two horses and riders appeared on the adjoining road – and red and white robes flew in the wind.
The recruits were never too far away.
'Zita, Giovanni – go after your Maestro, make sure he doesn't hurt himself! Bring him to the Tiber, I will gather the Assassins together!' Machiavelli yelled at them as they drew alongside him, and kicked the mare into a gallop. She reared, her hooves flailing, but came down heavily on the ground and was soon thundering back down the road she'd come from. The recruits didn't dawdle, and kicked their own mounts into action, and were soon chasing after the dimishing figure of the Maestro.
Phase three up soon! :D