The nitch in Cesare's brow showed determination and a little bit of frustration. "I didn't expect any less," he said, though that didn't mean he hadn't been hoping Leonardo would cave and relent. Or had he?

It was doubtful Cesare would have gotten this far if he didn't have some kind of opposition, mainly from Italy's eagle. The ruthless conqueror in him immensely enjoyed being able to yank any kind of resilient force off the ladder of leadership. Leonardo's persistence in denying him, then, became a strategic game at winning.

"You are relying on the one hope that you know I won't kill you, aren't you?" Cesare asked, fingers reaching toward his lower back to remove the small knife there from his belt. Leonardo's soft, sort-of-smile melted away into neutrality when he saw the glint of the blade. "You think that," continued Cesare, "perhaps, like a fairytale, Ezio Auditore will swoop in to save you." It wasn't a question.

And then Cesare was advancing on the artist with knife in hand and a dark gleam in his eye.

"Ezio cannot break the walls of my castello, I'm afraid," Cesare was saying. When he got closer: "I doubt he'll even know you're gone."

Even as Cesare came for him, Leonardo knew he had already promised himself the last thing he'd do would be to submit to Cesare's order. And as for games of strategy, well, the freckled, twenty-something genius wasn't given such a title for nothing.

When he got right beside the artist, Cesare whispered, "I doubt he'll care."

It was as if, although Leonardo hoped it wasn't true, he knew that his captor was correct. Ezio wouldn't hear about his taking for weeks, if not longer. And by then, who knew if Leonardo would even still be alive?

Leonardo didn't move or back away, even when Cesare was standing right in front of him. Cesare raised the knife, but when he grabbed Leonardo by the upper arm, the blade swiftly lodged itself under the binds on the man's wrists. Leonardo wrenched his eyes shut, thinking that if Cesare was going to stab him, he'd rather not see it happen.

And with an upward pull, Cesare split the binds in half.

When no pain followed in the next few seconds and Leonardo's hands separated from their bindings, he dared to open his eyes again. He looked up at Cesare in curiosity and surprise. "What are—You… You freed me?"

Switching the knife between his hands, Cesare said, "You can't make me inventions of war without the use of your arms." And then he pointed the tip of the knife at Leonardo's neck again, and the artist looked between the Master Templar and the blade. "But don't take my hospitality for granted, da Vinci," Cesare warned. "I will punish you if you try anything sly."

For now, Cesare turned back to the room with the blade idly flipping through his hands. "Otherwise, this room is yours." Cesare motioned to it with the knife. "There is a bathroom attached to it. Here, a desk to write with. Food will be brought to you, of course... Unless you don't cooperate. I have no qualms with starving you a little." Leonardo frowned.

After a few seconds, Cesare continued: "I'm granting you the use of my hired workers—they know who you are. Along with that, you get a limitless supply of goods that ensure the completion of these war devices." Cesare glanced back over his shoulder slowly.

"You do know I plan to take Rome for myself, correct?" A small, prideful smile curled Cesare's lips upward. "To do so, I need your help. I need something to help me wipe out large numbers of people while also protecting my own." Easily, he turned to face Leonardo again. "For now, you will not leave these premises... but you may wonder the castello. If you are good, I will allow you to venture out into Rome." A pause. Cesare's eyes were dark.

Was Cesare serious? Leonado thought. It was one thing to lie to get what was wanted, but war? Nearly the entirety of Leonardo's gut told him that Cesare couldn't have been further from jest. Silently, the artist listened to Cesare talk about the room, looking from the bed to the desk and, finally, the door. It was all more tempting than Leonardo cared to admit. Limitless materials? Workers to assist him? Had this been any other situation, he would have agreed without a second's hesitation.

"Are you still going to be stubborn?"

This situation called for Leonardo to take the higher, more risky ground. "I will have no part in this war of yours, and I'll certainly not allow countless to die just so that my neck will be spared." He often spent days at a time in his studio back in Florence. Being imprisoned in a warm, spacious room wasn't so bad of an idea. It was what Cesare planned to do to Rome that had Leonardo's stomach in knots.

Clenching his hand around the knife, it took all Cesare had not to explode in irritated rage. The last thing he could do was kill Leonardo, but it was so infuriating to have the man shoot down everything he offered. All of this, always brushed to the side! For what? Morality? Doing the "right thing"?

Gritting his teeth, Cesare pointed the blade threateningly across the room at the artist, and Leonardo grimaced. "You will not deny me." Cesare's voice was shaking with anger. "I shall not ask you any longer; I am commanding you to do as I say. I did not work this hard to get where I am for nothing." If he didn't know any better, Cesare would have gladly told Leonardo what he had done to be best, to have his father's gratitude, to have everyone else's gratitude. Lied. Cheated. Falsified information. Swindled. Killed his own brother.

"You can lead a horse to water, Signore…" Leonardo left it at that, his tone calm but serious.

Exhaling through his teeth, Cesare lowered the knife. "Guards!" He turned as two of them hurriedly entered, hurriedly came over to him. Placing a hand on one's arm, he leaned in to whisper something. After a moment, they both dispersed the way they had entered, door closing behind them.

"I don't have time for your games, Leonardo," Cesare said, pushing the flat sides of his fingers against his eyes, up over the tired sockets, then along the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps if you hear word that your Assassin friend is harmed, you will change your mind."

Even with the threat against Ezio's safety, the absent-minded artist had only the greatest faith in his friend's skills as an Assassin. Ezio wouldn't be caught, and he wouldn't come to harm. Leonardo knew it, he had to know it.

"What makes you think I would believe you," Leonardo asked, "if you did tell me that Ezio was dead?" He frowned and sat in the window seat, as if to confirm his stubbornness. "I will never make anything for you or your cause," he added.

Cesare didn't know whether he wanted to strangle the other man, or slice him down the middle. Unfortunately, Cesare needed Leonardo and, thus, had to control his temper. The only thing he could do to alleviate the boiling rage inside of him was to turn and slap something off a nearby table. A nice, expensive vase. It crashed against the floor, making Leonardo flinch back, and, for a moment, Leonardo feared that he'd pushed Cesare's temper a step too far. The doors opened quickly, but Cesare held up a hand while heaving.

After the doors closed yet again, Cesare cut his sweltering, dark eyes back at the artist. "You leave me no choice then," he hissed. "My guards are on their way to your workshop." Leonardo's body froze in hesitation. "I hope you don't have anything hidden away in there that is priceless. They are bringing every one of your manuscripts back here to the castello. If you don't use them to your advantage, if you do not join me... I will reveal in ripping them apart and burning them in a fire out in the courtyard." Cesare pointed toward the window in which Leonardo sat. "Right out there. I will make you watch."

Fortunately, Leonardo knew every design and blue print down to the last annotation, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, not that Cesare knew that, of course. Plus, Leonardo didn't particularly want his workshop ransacked. Getting to his feet, Leonardo gave a defiant shrug. "All right, fine. Destroy what you want, but if you burn my designs, you burn any chance of my cooperation along with them."

The little bit of satisfaction that crept into Cesare was enough to douse the flame of anger for now. "Well," he said with a clenched jaw, "you better start cooperating if you don't want them burned to less than ash."

Slowly, Cesare slid the knife in his hand back into the scabbard at his back. His feet carried him once more toward the artist. Leonardo backed away slowly, expression crumpling warily. Getting in people's faces was a tactic of being more dominant; Cesare used it wisely. "You will build what I ask of you," Cesare said, grabbing the other man's face, and Leonardo didn't turn away, "or you will pay the price. Death would be a release from what I am capable and willing to do to you. I am being nice. You don't want to see me angry." Angrier than what he was when he slung the vase to the floor.

And with that, Cesare turned to stalk for the door. "Guards," he was barking, "send a servant to clean this up." At the doorway, he stopped and looked back. "If you try anything, I will have the guards skin you alive." Then Cesare was gone.

Once he was left alone, Leonardo soon lost himself in daydreams and in thought. There wasn't much point in trying to plan his escape—he was a master of art, not of espionage. The hours in the room, alone, dragged on, one by one. Unfortunately for Leonardo, chronic boredom set in quickly, eating away at his idle mind. Eventually, Leonardo attempted to pass the time by napping, and it was late into the night when he suddenly awoke.