Warning: Contains Mild Spoilers about the Pazzi Conspiracy and the origins of Ezio's Scar.
The Third Day.
Day One.
It was a dark night in the Tuscan countryside. A small stone building sat in the middle of a clearing, the woods and thick brush muffled the barely audible sound coming from within. A few horses stood quietly in front, swishing their tails. A dim light twinkled from it's one small window.
"So our targets are marked then?"
"Yes, Lorenzo and Giuliano should be at the Medici estate in Florence. Tell your nephew to invite them to the Duomo for High Mass. On that day you will go to Palazzo Vecchio and eliminate Petrucci, taking your seat as Signoria. Giovan."
"Yes?"
"You will wait outside the city with your men, when the bells begin to ring, you will make your move." A low muffled grunt followed.
"Milord, a letter arrived this morning, the Pope has given us his blessing," A nervous voice chipped in.
"Perfect." The candles flickered as figures moved about the small room.
Ezio crouched quietly in the dark window of the dimly lit room. He had been informed earlier that day that a suspicious meeting would be taking place in the depth of the Tuscany forest, and volunteered to check it out. Six men stood round a wooden table covered with letters and dark wax stains from the low burning candles. The men had been talking for hours, and Ezio's knee's were aching, but he dare not move. He strained his eyes to identify the shadowed figures. One man, leaning against the back wall, stepped forward into the light. He began to speak.
"Then, in three days, the 26th of this month, we will condemn their souls, and the Medici's will fall to the Pazzi's reign."
Ezio's eyes widened, recognizing the man immediately. It was Viere de' Pazzi, a dark haired, broad shoulder man that was about his age. Ezio's gloved fingers rose to his lips and he gingerly touched his scar, stretched and white from age. It was Viere who had given him the scar nearly a decade ago.
Viere flashed his characteristic toothy, lopsided grin. Ezio clenched his fist as he saw two other figures step beside Viere, Jacopo and Francesco de' Pazzi.
"Tomorrow we shall set off to Florence." Viere's nasally voice cut the silence. The men around the table stirred a little, eager to be free from the dank confines of the building. "The rest may retire for the night." He dismissed them.
Ezio watched as the six men began to leave the small room. His heart pounded and his head was swimming with the news he had just heard. The Pazzi family was trying to overthrow the Medici's, and Giuliano and Lorenzo's lives were in danger. He had to warn them.
Ezio slowly got to his feet, praying that his joints wouldn't crack from the position he was in. Soundlessly he stepped back out of the window and on to the dewy, night grass. With his back against the wall, he edged closer to the front in order to get a better view of the six conspirators. Names would be important.
The three Pazzi members stepped out of the thick wooden doorway first. Viere still had his ugly grin smeared across his face and Jacopo followed in his shadow. Francesco, the jittery, young blonde, walked awkwardly, jumping at every small sound of the night.
Next came another familiar face, Archbishop Salviata. He wore his priest robes, which Ezio found strange for the setting. He had a smug look settled on his face, his nose slightly upturned. He obviously deemed himself higher than the others. Behind him a smaller, black-haired man followed. Ezio immediately identified him as the man called Giovan. He was a thin man. His face was sullen, his wide, dark eyes were lined and he looked like he hadn't sleep for days. As he walked, he looked warily from side to side, as if he were looking for something.
Ezio waited, but no one followed Giovan. He was sure that there were six men at the table, but only five men had left. He looked to the doorway, but no shadow lingered to bid the men farewell. It wouldn't hurt to check inside the building... Ezio thought, if the last man had stayed behind, perhaps he could get some useful information out of him. He was about to turn when he heard a soft thud behind him.
A hand clasped Ezio's shoulder and spun him around roughly. Ezio froze as he looked upon the sixth conspirator. He was a tall, badly scarred man with weathered skin and a scraggly beard. One of his eyes, nestled deep into his high cheekbones, was clouded over with a cataract. Ezio felt small in his presence and shrunk backwards. In the moonlight, he was a truly terrifying creature. Before Ezio could react the man grabbed his collar and threw him to the ground, into the sight of the conspirators.
"Found our rat," the man's gravelly voice jeered.
The men turned and began to form a circle around Ezio, keeping their distance. Viere stood with his back towards Ezio, tilting his head as if he was contemplating whether to face the assassin or not. After a few moments, it seemed he had made up his mind.
Viere turned slowly on his heel. His smile never faded as steely blue eyes swept over the downed, hooded man, stopping at his lips. "I remember that scar." Viere reminisced.
"Ezio Auditore, I should've known." He chuckled to himself. Ezio struggled to get up on his elbows. He had landed hard on his back and was breathless from the blow. "So glad you could make it." Viere cooed.
"Bastard," Ezio spat, still trying to catch his breath. Viere had known he was there the whole time.
"Manners, Ezio," Viere scorned, walking slowly toward him. "Seeing as you arrived a little earlier than expected, I suppose I won't have to brief you on the plan." He reached inside a pocket and pulled out a short, silver blade. Twiddling it in his fingers, inspecting it like it was a gem for pricing, he continued, "However, since you play no major role in this production, we'll have to... cut you out of the scene."
At his words, the five other conspirators advanced, drawing weapons if they had them.
Ezio rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees. His eyes darted left and right, taking in the surrounding area and any possible escape routes. Though he could easily take out Viere on his own, the five other conspirators were armed and would jump on him the second he made a move. Ezio backed up slowly, half curled into a defensive stance. The situation didn't look good.
Giovan attacked first, lunging forward with his short sword. Ezio raised his gauntlet to block the blade, for he had no time to reach for his own. He winced as the cold metal dug into his skin, but the gauntlet had absorbed most of the impact. Seeing an opening, he delivered a hard kick into Giovan's ribs, sending him sprawling backwards.
Giovan fell hard, but recovered quickly, gasping and clutching his side as he readied for another attack. Archbishop Salviata moved forward next, attempt to grab and restrain Ezio. Ducking underneath his outstretched arm, Ezio locked the holy man's elbow and pushed down on the joint. The Archbishop yelped in pain, and moved away from the pressure; he was in Ezio's control. To the side, Ezio noticed Francesco, who was quivering from head to toe and looked like he was about to wet himself. He smirked wickedly as he spun Salviata and released his hold, sending him flying into the nervous Pazzi. The two knocked heads and fell to the ground.
Ezio took this chance to escape. He bolted from the centre of the conspirators and leapt over the two men cupping their bleeding nostrils. He dashed for the tree-line and plunged into the thick vegetation, eager to get as far away as possible.
"Silvano," Viere called, watching the white hood disappear into the depths of the forest. The weathered man stepped forward, his good eye fixed on Viere's face.
"Find him, and bring him back to me. Alive."
Silvano said nothing as he walked toward his horse, a sturdy chestnut mare. He pulled himself into the saddle and trotted towards the forest edge. He scanned the dark woods and a small smile twisted his cracked lips. He was a master tracker, and no man had ever escaped his eye.
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Ezio pushed past the branches and leaves, twigs scratched his skin and tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. It was hard to see in the dark, and he found himself constantly tripping over exposed roots and broken branches. He kept running even though he heard no one following him. The vegetation began to thin and he soon found himself on a narrow path illuminated by the silver moonlight. He doubled over, gasping for air. The night was still around him, there was no breeze, and above him the sky was clear.
After he had regained his breath he walked the path, trying to figure out where he was. In the distance, he could hear water trickling. Ezio turned another bend and found a small stream that crossed the path. Relieved, he crouched by the water and began to drink.
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Silvano slowed his horse to a walk as he entered onto a branching pathway. He scanned the dirt road and the bushes for any sign that his prey had passed through. A few metres ahead, he spotted an indent in the soft earth. He dismounted and crouched low to the ground, analysing the area. The print was light, but noticeable. He looked to the side of the path where the print had come from. Green leaves, freshly fallen, lay on the path, and a few broken twigs hung loosely from their branches. This is where his prey had exited the woods.
He turned his attention back to the print. He studied the depth and size of the print and the grooves left by the shoe. Moving a few metres ahead, he found another distinguished print. Silvano resaddled, clicking his tongue and sending the mare in to a slow walk.
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Ezio splashed some water over his face. It was a hot spring night, and he felt uncomfortably warm. He could feel the under layers of his garb sticking to his skin. He stared at his reflection, cool beads of water dripped down his cheeks. He had to keep moving though. Getting to his feet Ezio felt the exhaustion setting in, his eyes felt heavy and scratchy. Looking up, he saw that the sky was beginning to lighten ever so slightly. It would be morning in a few hours. He began to move forward.
In the distance he heard a sound, but it was hard to distinguish from the gurgle of the stream. A slow, steady, clop. As he listened, the sound got a little louder.
His fatigue instantly vanished as he placed a name to the sound. A horse was coming.
Ducking into the trees once more, he hind himself amid the tangled roots of an ancient sycamore maple. From his position he could see the pathway clearly. He waited until the horse come into view.
The horse walked slowly, it's hooves dragging on the ground slightly. Perched on top was a man, his head was turned in the opposite direction, looking into the bushes. Slowly, the man turned his head to the front. In the moonlight, his cataract shone like a cat's eye.
Ezio's heart beat fast and he covered his mouth to muffle his breathing. Of all the conspirators, that man was the last one he wanted to be followed by.
The man stopped at the stream, dismounting his horse. Ezio watched him as he crouched on the bank and examined the ground. He was looking for his foot prints, Ezio realised. The man traced his finger along the ground before standing up. He stepped into the stream, the water barely reaching his ankles. He crossed and crouched down at the other side, again scanning the dirt for prints.
After a moment, the man crossed the stream once more, having not found anything. He moved up the side of the stream, closer to where Ezio was hiding. Once more the man crouched down. He was examining the wet patches of earth were Ezio had drank earlier.
The assassin may as well have been caught right there and then. The wet earth was a sign that the hooded man was still there, and very close by. Silvano had found no tracks leading away from the water on the other side. He grinned to himself momentarily. The assassins was either hiding, or about to strike from behind.
Silvano crouched on the ground, ready for the assassin to make his move. He listened carefully, pretending to examine the footprints he had left behind. Surely enough, he could hear the tiniest of movement in the brush behind him. The assassins was good. If he had not left tracks, Silvano would've been totally unaware of his presence.
Unfortunately for Ezio, he was very aware.
Ezio was right behind the man now, watching him intently as he looked over the banks of the water. If he could get this one conspirator out of the way, it would be one less he'd have to deal with once he got back to Florence. He had to make his move now.
Positioning his wrist, he jumped from the bushes, the familiar sound of metal sliding from its holster was the only sound that betrayed his presence. The man would never see it coming.
Just as he was about to sink the blade into his foes neck, the man turned and caught his wrist, twisting sharply. Ezio gasped in pain as the man's fist slammed into his abdomen and he was swatted out of the air like a fly. He felt the cool water soak into his clothes as he landed partly in the stream. Ezio scrambled to his feet, ready to attack again.
The man quickly reached into his saddlebag, pulling out a wooden crossbow. Ezio had trained to fight against enemies with projectile weapons. The key was to attack before they could load the arrow. He shot forward hidden blade aimed for the man's chest.
However he stopped dead in his tracks as he felt the wind rush past him. Behind him an arrow lodged into a tree, splinters of wood sent flying by the impact. It took less than two seconds for the man to have the next arrow ready and aimed. Ezio dropped to the ground as the arrow flew past. It was the fastest he had seen anyone reload a crossbow.
By the time Ezio had gotten to his feet, the man was ready to release another deadly bolt. Ezio made a break for the trees, hoping that the woods would provide some cover. Before he could reach the forest, the man loosed his arrow. Ezio felt a sharp pain as the arrow embedded itself through his calf. Unable to support his body he fell to one knee. His hand reached to the wound, trying to stem the warm blood. He felt his body grow hot as pain seared up his leg.
Within seconds he felt the man's presence overtop of him. A calloused hand wrapped around his neck and pulled him upward. Ezio felt his feet leave the ground as he was dangled in the air like a rag doll. He couldn't breathe. His vision began to blur and his lungs screamed for air. Darkness began to collect in the corner of his eyes as he looked down upon his captor. The man's cracked lips were twisted into a smile, and his blue, clouded eye was the last thing Ezio saw before the darkness finally overcame him.
End of Day 1.