A/N- I actually like Machiavelli, historically and in the game universe, but I'm guessing his attitude would drive most people up the wall.

Hm. The timeline is really messed up in this story, and I wish I could go back and somehow fix it, but that would mean rewriting everything. So I hope no one is too confused- I am aware that my dates do not match up with the passage of time, and I have no excuse. But hey, it's not like I'm making money off of this... Now that would be unfair...

Curious situation, Adel decided absently, Eden would even say- idiotic.

The situation was indeed interesting, something that the young woman barely registered at the back of her suddenly numb mind. All around were burnt out ruins of the town where she'd lived since the age of ten. The place where she first took a sword into her hands, the burned out rooftop of the art merchant's shop where she twisted the ankle the first time she tried free running. Where the Auditore raised her, giving her the warmth of a family that her own parents failed to do.

But all the houses and streets were wrecked now. The cheerfulness and animation of the crowds, completely wiped out. The stores empty, looted by the soldiers. The villa a mess. The stones of the roads smothered with blood and bodies that the Borgia didn't waste their time moving. They did take care in burning all the Assassin and Auditore flags and crests, however, and taking anything that was still intact. No familiarity was left in the ghost town...

And in the midst of the deathly silence, Adel crouched beside Mario's body, wondering how to get the blade out of his back, and if she should try to wiggle it out of his spine, or if she'd manage to take it out in one motion.

She felt hysterical laughter and tears bubbling inside of her, bringing her fist to her mouth and quickly biting down on her hand to prevent it. The salty and bitter taste of blood cooled her mind slightly. Emotions were not something she liked dealing with, and Mario's death opened a floodgate of grief worse than she could have ever imagined. But she could not break down. When her own parents died, Eden held her until she fell asleep, quietly singing. She was only a little girl then... she had no one to comfort her now, and she fought against the idea that she needed someone to hold her.

"Signorina, there are a few survivors holed up in the houses farthest from the gates," the condotierro informed her, his own voice cracked and quiet. She briefly wondered if he had lost his family in the attack, as well. "There was only one group of the Borgia bastards left, scavenging the remains of the brothel, but..."

He let the sentence hang, but Adel knew that they had completely massacred the enemy without questions. It was shown in the grim satisfaction that hung in the air between the men, something she had seen in Ezio's eyes when they came back from a successful assassination. Eden too, sometimes. Revenge was a cold comfort, its bitter sweetness ebbing into an uncanny satisfaction. But Adel never felt the craving for it...until now.

The sun finally tore through the clouds of smoke and dust, but it gave no hope or warmth to the ruins. Perhaps one day, the villagers would reclaim the walls. But for the moment, they were empty smoking remains of a life that felt like it existed a thousand years ago, though the attack occurred only that morning.

"Get the survivors to the surrounding villages," she raggedly said. However, looking back to Mario's body made it all the more difficult. She found herself purposely shutting her eyes against the grisly sight, a wave of fearful exhaustion tearing at her with little warning. And so this is what it feels to truly mourn, she hysterically thought. Covering her eyes with a bloody, scratched hand, she found herself unable to stop its shaking.

Her hair a slimy mess of blood and grime, her skin throbbing and itching, the top layers of her clothing were cut up, nearly ripped to pieces. Good only for fires, they were saturated with blood, her underclothes showing through. The only bright spot on her were her tired, watery blue eyes. Despite that only a few seconds passed, it felt as though she needed hours to find her voice again.

"Wipe out any more soldiers you encounter," she ordered, her voice rising with practiced authority, "Loot everything that is left, scavenge anything you can, and then get yourself away from here."

"We will move the bodies, first," someone spoke, and she didn't argue. Claudia, who was standing beside her quietly up to that point, suddenly opened her mouth. "Let us move Mario's body to the Auditore crypt. And then we will head to Roma."

"Ezio told you to go to Firenze," Adel tiredly muttered, finally grabbing the sword in Mario's back, and pulling it out in one movement. It gave surprisingly easy, but everyone present winced at the way Mario's body jerked with the motion. The momentum nearly made Adel topple, and once she regained her balance, she threw the blade away with all the strength and hatred she had left.

"I don't care. I will not sit by anymore."

Adel didn't respond, helping the mercenary and Mario's beloved niece pick up the body of their former leader.

"I want to avenge his death," the older woman continued speaking as she walked beside them. "All of their deaths. I won't let my brother do it alone this time. Besides, there is nothing left here, or in Firenze for us."

"Nothing left," Adelaide echoed, and no one spoke for the rest of the procession.

I only moved away from Ezio when it was well over noon. Machiavelli started a small fire to burn the bloody strips of cloth that couldn't even serve as bandages anymore, heating up some food when he finished. I felt completely drained of energy, so I only nodded in thanks when he gave me some bread. Nibbling on it without much appetite, despite feeling as though I was about to starve. I knew I had to keep up my strength for the ride ahead.

Whatever it would decide to throw at us. Likely, more death and destruction, considering life's dark sense of humor.

"We will have to travel by night," Machiavelli mused out loud, "It is best if we stay out of sight of the villages and towns on our way. We should also stay off the road. There are patrols about..."

"Why even bother going through all this trouble?" I muttered, lying back on the grass beside Ezio and ignoring the way my muscles ached from the long ride. That I had to support Ezio's weight for its entirety as he slowly lost consciousness didn't help. For a moment, I perked up my ears to make sure he was still breathing. He was, but it was uneven, frantic and shallow. Expected of his condition, but very unpleasant to listen to. He would develop a fever soon enough, which would make moving him anywhere even harder. Without modern medicine, it would be a gamble as to whether or not he could break his fever and survive. Hopefully, he would quickly pull through, as he had in the past with his other injuries. Then again, he was also no longer a young man…

"As I understand it," I snorted, "You are not happy with him."

"It doesn't mean I wish for his death," Niccolo replied, and I made a noise of thoughtful agreement, seeing his point. "Are you not cold?"

"Why, does it look it?" I smiled with little humor, lifting one leg in the air, and examining the bare skin from all sides. I was still wearing only my long tunic and my boots, the clothes I threw on when I thought I was only leaving the warmth of the bedroom for a few minutes, not running for my life or camping out in some forest. Niccolo didn't pointedly look away from such bold display like he would on any other occasion, and it was easy to tell why. My skin was painted with blood and dirt that'd dried. Though it helped against the freezing wind, it was a sight that would not stir lust in even the most hammered and salacious thugs at the moment. "I'll deal with it…I forgot to ask before, but what are you doing here?"

"I was traveling to Roma when I caught wind of Cesare's change of plans. I turned back, but it appears that I was too late," Niccolo replied in a stiff tone.

"Where could you possibly hear that he decided to come from Forli and attack Monteriggioni? That's hardly something you'd hear from the rumors and gossip of merchants."

He didn't reply, save holding my gaze, his eyes unreadable as ever. I furrowed my eyebrows, sitting up to look at him properly. My body moaned in protest, but I ignored it again. "What, did I miss some sort of spy network amongst the merchants?"

"I will explain everything once we get to Roma."

"He's lying." Altair commented, but I knew that already.

"No you won't," I curled my lip, "You won't tell me a thing. You're stalling, otherwise there is no difference if you tell me now or in Rome."

"You should sleep. I will keep watch," he coldly changed the subject, and I knew that I was right.

"I don't trust you."

"If I wanted you or Ezio dead, I would not have helped you treat him. Even with what you were intending to do, all I would have needed was to leave you alone and watch you get massacred by the first Borgia patrol."

"I'm not quite that harmless, even in my current state" I snapped back, despite that I knew he made absolute, logical sense. I would have been able to take down perhaps one or two before collapsing. It would also be impossible to keep away from the villages, likely resulting in Ezio's death with no means to treat him. Machiavelli's presence was a blessing in it's begrudging way…that still didn't mean I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Professional habits.

"Speaking of wounds, would you like me to stitch that closed?" I glanced at him with confusion, vaguely aware of the flash of pain. I brought a hand up to my face, and realized that I had an open cut from my forehead to my cheek. It seemed rather small in comparison to Mario's death and Ezio's wounds, so I lost track of my own.

"It's fine," I grumbled. "I'll-" Machiavelli already began to move towards me, but I leaned away with almost childish irritation, "Seriously. Keep your hands to yourself if you don't want them ripped off and shoved up to hang with the stick up your ass."

He sighed, sitting back and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you always so difficult?"

"Yes."

"That could get infected and leave scar."

"Oh, no! Another scar on my face! What will I ever do?" I made my voice high pitched. "It doesn't matter, my face as good as repulses most of the sober male population. Not to mention I couldn't care less."

He didn't attempt to assure me of the opposite, preferring not to waste his breath with false sentiments. I was right- with the new cut, I had the total of five scars that crossed my face from both sides. Some luck prevented them from crossing over my nose, eyes or mouth. However, they were still visible on my cheeks. Ezio always joked (eventually with a healthy dose of truth on his part) that my eyes were best feature, and I was far beyond caring for looks. Yet the rest of the world was a bit less tactful and forgiving. Especially to women.

"You are acting like a child."

"I don't care-" I inwardly winced at the whine that crept into my voice, crossing my arms for emphasis, 'I am tired, hungry, filthy, hurt and upset," I nearly snarled. "Forgive me if I don't want to be compliant."

"There is a small river south of here," Machiavelli jerked his head in its direction, "You will be able to wash tomorrow if you'd like."

"One thing at a time?" I actually smiled at that. "Okay, sounds good. But I just don't have the energy to care about anything today, especially some stupid scratch."

"As you wish," he flattened his lips into a thin line, showing he wasn't about to waste his time arguing with me on the pointless subject.

From then on, we sat in silence. We were usually on friendlier terms. Or rather, we rarely spoke of anything outside of business, holding neutral ground. Out of the other assassins I preferred people like La Volpe, who were infinitely more fun to be around. Machiavelli was always more distant, his mind always seeming elsewhere and concentrating on his on mechanizations. Not to mention, he was a solid decade younger than Ezio, almost not of his generation. So I never really bothered chasing his friendship.

After a few moments, I gave up on trying to stay awake, and laid down beside Ezio, hoping to at least keep him warm, even if I was freezing.

Niccolo and I spoke little to each other when he woke me up at sunset. Simply, we hoisted Ezio up into his saddle, after which I climbed up behind him, and we rode in silence along the road. Nighttime proved little challenge, the clear sky and three-quarter moon letting me see everything perfectly. With the horses rested from the night before, there was no point in stopping until the morning.

Ezio's wounds still bled despite my crude attempts at closing them. Once we stopped, about two hours after sunrise, I changed the bandages. When those ran out, I started ripping strips off our tunics. I didn't care about decency, all that mattered was keeping him alive until we could get to Roma. The city was too large for the Borgia to keep track of all the doctors, so we would ideally be able to tend to him properly. But it was a four day ride from Monteriggioni to Roma, so I was growing more and more nervous with each hour.

Over a decade ago, I did not leave Ezio's side, instead carefully nursing and tending to him, despite only meeting him on that fateful morning after his family's execution. So I was well aware of his limits in my current age. Once I got some sleep and collected my thoughts, I decided that there was no point in worrying too much over something I could not change. Besides, I needed a distraction; asking Niccolo where the river he mentioned was, I went to clean myself up.

I tried not to think about how possibly disease-infested the water would likely be in the middle of a forest too much. The river was more or a small stream or a spring, freezing cold, but appearing mostly clear. Despite the temperature, the fact that it washed off the itchy grime and blood off my skin was like a blessing from God. A hot bath would have been much better, but I didn't get to pick and choose. I wasn't very used to such closeness to nature, and frankly, nature didn't really like having me near it, either. But for the moment, I managed to create a temporary treaty with it. So no fish jumped out at me, I didn't slip on any rocks, and the thick bushes more or less provided cover from the wind.

Of course, the knife tickling the skin between my shoulder blades had nothing to do with nature. Just my own damn stupidity.

"Turn around."

"...No." I snapped, continuing to run my fingers through my curtain of hair.

"And why not?"

"Are you blind?" I looked up to the sky, as though asking god why men were so thick sometimes. Sitting in the water, water went to just half way up my thigh, and my long hair covered my back and sides. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but I am not a playful nymph, and I'd really rather be dressed when I'm meeting someone new. A nude body gives people the wrong impression."

I think I surprised the man with that, and he gave out a cough. It was a wonder that he didn't simply take me by the hair and throw me down. Perhaps the sword that lay right beside my hand made him cautious?

"That's the point."

"Oh, I see what you're trying to do!" I exclaimed in the most loud voice I could manage, "But darling, please don't. I have a sharp stick and I'm not afraid to use it. Besides..."

He collapsed on me with a loud groan, almost driving his blade into my back, but I twisted out of the way before he could. Niccolo freed his sword from the man's neck, and was now looking around in alarm. The feel of warm blood trickling down my back was quickly forgotten. It was better than a blade through it, or worse, considering my naked state.

"Thanks," I threw over my shoulder, glancing at the corpse with distaste. Red streaks joined the stream, and were quickly carried off. The dead man was dressed in light, but new silver armor. His doublet and tights, ironically as scarlet as the blood pulsing from his freshly opened mortal wound, were both shot through with black stripes. I shuddered, having seen that livery as they destroyed Monteriggioni. I didn't even need to see the tell-tale shield-of-arms of the prancing bull that would likely be hewn into his breast plate, if I bothered to kick him over to his back.

He was of the Borgia.

"Cazzo, I did not expect them to find us so quickly...get dressed!" Machiavelli barked at me.

"Really, I wonder how they found us," I let out a skeptical snort, "And I have nothing to dress into."

The only clothing I had were lying on the grass nearby, completely ruined and beyond any sort of wash or repair. Granted, I could still wear were my boots, but those would begin to rub my bare feet to blood soon.

"Here," Machiavelli threw pants and a tunic at me.

"Why didn't you tell me you had these earlier?" I asked, affronted as I caught them. Damn, I should have figured that he would have spare clothing for traveling...losing my touch...

"You were too busy being a difficult and stubborn child," he snapped, turning away under the pretense of keeping a look out. I didn't reply, knowing he was right, instead quickly getting dressed and tying my hair off into a pony tail. I didn't have time for my usual braid.

"Those bastards have been following us since we came onto the road," he ground out. "I'm surprised they waited for you to separate...wonder where the rest of them are."

"They're sitting in the bushes right now," I waved my hand towards the line of trees while I was wringing my hair out, "And they naively believe that we don't see or hear them."

Machiavelli looked around to the place I motioned towards, "For how long?" he cocked his head to side, appearing thoroughly prepared to deal with whatever Fate decided to throw at us now.

"Don't know, I only tuned in now. They probably wanted to see the show," I shrugged, and continued with biting sarcasm, "Pleasure before business and all that. I would have easily caught on if they tried to sneak up on me all at once, so kudos to them for such amazing instincts."

Either the men were flattered or crushed that their plan failed, but they finally came out of the bushes. But their expressions promised nothing good.

"Surround them," the captain barked at his men, "Come from all sides. Do not underestimate either of them."

I wasn't sure if such measures and tactics were standard, or if they finally realized that even women with sharp objects could prove to be challenging opponents. But they were certainly working with coordination I hadn't seen in common city guards. The latter usually just flew into combat, not caring that their swings were easily countered. Nor did they ever give me the honor of "not being underestimated". In fact, this group moved rather similar to the soldiers we encountered when we infiltrated the Vactican, which strangely seemed a lifetime ago.

I hastily pulled on the last boot, and picked up my blade from the grass. Without warning, I had to parry a hard blow from one of the men. I wrinkled my forehead at his bravery, and kicked him into the stream. Mother nature, which I still had a pact with, helpfully gave him the slippery stones I managed to avoid, and he temporarily exited the fight.

"Are these the only ones?" I asked Machiavelli quietly as we stood closely, mostly parrying and holding ground so we could talk.

"I believe so. The patrols rarely contain more than five or six guards."

"So they haven't sent out a messenger?"

"I don't think they even know who we are. Maybe I can convince them to leave us alone..."

"Put down your arms, and we will not harm you," the captain suddenly cut in, immediately as I missed a hit and was forced to jerk my face away from the incoming slash. It left a cut on my neck, causing me to swear under my breath before very vividly describing to him where he could go with his "mercy", what he could do there, and with whom.

"I really wish you hadn't done that," Machiavelli sighed, realizing that there would be no diplomatic negotiations. I wasn't too sorry about that, though.

"Does it matter? Or is dying angry bad for the soul?"

"No, but that tongue of yours will get you killed one day."

"If I had a copper for ever time someone told me that, I wouldn't have to wash in a stream- ahem, river - and fight off Borgia patrols." I twisted away from one of the enemy blades, kicked him in the stomach, and brought my own sword down onto his neck.

"Will you be quiet already?" Though I couldn't see him, I would bet a year's worth of income that Machiavelli was rolling his eyes, "Watch your back!"

"This is so much more fun with La Volpe and Barto," I grumbled, and then realized that I had missed valuable advice. One of the men did what his predecessor was too afraid to, and grabbed my pony tail, jerking my head back to reveal my throat. The steel slipped over my skin, adding another scar to my already abundant number. I kicked the man between the legs, wrenched his sword out of his hand, and drove it through his chest, effectively pinning him to a tree.

The last guard that tried to make a run for it fell with Niccolo's throwing knife squarely between his shoulder blades.

I dropped the bloodied blade onto the grass before leaning onto the tree that was free of corpses, and clutched my throat.

"It's one thing after another," I ground out, my voice hoarse. "I will kill Ezio when he wakes up... I should have just killed the old man while he wasn't looking..."

"Are you alright?" Machiavelli stepped towards me, noticing the trickle of blood that slipped between my fingers.

"Oh, just wonderful. Like a nymph, dancing in the water and congratulating the flowers with the first day of spring..." I joked feebly. The cut was slightly deeper than I had expected. Just slightly. But I still felt rather satisfied. Blood always soothed my anger, however sick the fact was. Perhaps because it meant that I was still alive enough to bleed? "Maybe the unicorns will come out to hang with the satyrs," I gulped.

"Did you hit you head?" He actually sounded concerned. How sweet.

"Yes, a few times as a child. Ohh, down we go!" I cheerfully muttered as I tried to make a step and suddenly the world decided that it didn't want to stay upright. Niccolo caught me, audibly sighing.

"I suppose it was naive to believe that you would not get injured in some way. Don't lose consciousness, I can't look after two limp bodies."

"Then leave me out for the wolves," I giggled, "I'm sure they'd love me."

"For dinner, perhaps," Machiavelli threw a handful of water in my face. It helped slightly in stopping the world from spinning.

"How gentlemanly of you." Carefully using the tree for support, I stood up, one hand still on my neck. "Bandages...half my kingdom for some bandages," I muttered before remembering that Shakespeare wouldn't be coming around for another fifty years or so. Likely, Machiavelli assumed it just more of my dazed rambling.

"I don't think even a hospital worth of doctors would be able to help you. Come on, let's make sure you husband is unharmed. Further, that is," he replied. Before I could say anything, he grabbed my elbow, and steered my back to the small clearing beside the stream where we left the horses and Ezio. Everything was left intact, including the unconscious man. The horses were peacefully grazing, and Machiavelli's bags looked untouched. I dropped down beside them, and without asking permission, began searching for bandages, shoving a few books and clothes away.

"It is strange that they followed us, but didn't send a message to Cesare. If they didn't know who we were, then what was the point? Perhaps they had different orders, then..."

"Everything is a lot more simple than that," I mumbled.

"How so?"

"Well, what would you do if you were tasked with looking out for suspicious travelers? Then, you see a woman and two men, one of whom looks as though he's dead, suddenly turning off the road for no reason and passing a mile away from the villages despite obviously needing medical care?" I raised my eyebrows. "I think it was just human curiosity and caution. Besides, if these men were from the army, they may not have been able to...ah, relieve urges for some time."

"There is a village east of the road," Machiavelli retorted, "If they had any urges, those would have been taken care of there. And no offense, but you barely even looked like a woman an hour ago."

"The meaning of tact is lost on you, isn't it? But I suppose you're right. I look better now, though, si?" I asked as I wrapped my throat with the few bandages we had left.

He looked me over with a serious expression. "Only from very close up."

We continued to make our way towards Roma without any more adventures, thankfully. It was when we started seeing ruins that Machiavelli suddenly began talking again, as we barely exchanged words since the attack.

"I think we should separate for the time being."

"Excuse me?" I looked around at him. Ezio was once again hoisted in front of me, so steering was slightly difficult. "What do you mean?"

"I will take Ezio to a woman I know in the city. She is a trusted ally, and can provide safe shelter and treatment for him."

"And why can I not stay with him?" I raised my eyebrow. He remained expressionless.

"Her house is rather small. One wounded man, she can hide from eyes, but an unpredictable and insane woman would draw those very same suspicions."

I didn't even think of taking offense, even for show. "No one will see me unless I want to be seen."

"Yes, like by the stream."

"That was not my fault. My sense of smell was completely killed by my own...perfumes at the time, and those men were following us. Not to mention, I was a lot worse for wear and surrounded by unfamiliar nature. But the city is my element-"

"Eden, think for a moment," Machiavelli cut me off. I would have snapped out an insult, but he pushed on before I could even open my mouth. "There is nothing more you can do for him. If that patrol really did send a messenger, then it is dangerous for you to stay together; he requires a proper doctor and a safe place to rest, something that you cannot supply at the moment. It will be easier for all of us if you do not argue with me on this."

"I don't trust you," I repeated myself.

I lied, knowing perfectly well that if Machiavelli was less than trustworthy, then my throat would be cleanly cut through while I slept. It would've been all too easy, with me lulled into a sense of security with Ezio's body by my side and no expectation of danger. Not to mention Eagle Vision flawlessly showed me only clean, bright blue. But no matter the facts, I still felt extremely uneasy in the prospect of being separated from Ezio. The unflattering insight I got into his mind when reading his later book, "The Prince" back in school in my own time didn't win him any points either. Then again, not once did a history book mention that he was an assassin, so I suppose that was something that could be overlooked.

"Not many people do," he did not seem to take offense, but I saw his eyes narrow slightly, "Still, that is no reason for you to act foolish now."

I didn't reply for a long minute, and then sighed. "You're right. There is not point in being stubborn. But where would you have me go?"

"There is a place- a warehouse on Isola Tiberina that an ally has lent us. It is slightly...unfurnished, but it is safe. And you need safety right now, until to gain your footing in the city."

"Why can't we bring Ezio there, then?"

"There is no doctor or apothecary near the warehouse. Actually, not many stores are open in the city. Most either went out of business, or the owners were chased away by the Borgia."

"Right. And does this decision have anything to do with you not wanting him to know that you helped us get here?" I smirked.

"That, as well," he disarmed. "How did you know?"

"The male ego is very predictable. I won't lie to him."

"You won't have to. Simply don't say anything."

"Don't you think he'll find it a little strange that I did not stay at his side like a wife and partner should? Come now, Niccolo, I'm tearing holes in your plan..."

"You can say that you left him at the house and trailed back to make sure that you were not followed. Or that your were making arrangements in the city. Eden, this is not your first day on the job, you should know that sometimes it is more convenient and useful to lie. Or even better, omit all together."

"I see no reason for lying," I stubbornly ground out.

He pinched the bridge of his nose again, and his reply was slightly heavier "I saved your life twice, did I not? The least you can do in return is follow directions now."

I snapped my head to him, and was momentarily rendered speechless. He was staring up ahead, but past the city that was already in sight.

"You really are a politician," I finally breathed out, stunned. "'Use what you can,' is that how we're playing now?"

"You are the only one who treats this situation like a game," he coldly responded. "But if you prefer to see it in such childish terms," he nearly sneered, "Roma is a 'playground' you are not familiar with. We have almost no allies, so it is imperative that we be as discrete as possible. Even a momentary lapse in disguise could alert the enemy, a mistake we cannot afford to make with Cesare. Not now, while Ezio is wounded and you are new to the city, with only a cheap blade, a concealed weapon, and my clothes to your name."

"You forget the horse," I flatly replied. I could muster up no other emotion as I took a hand off Ezio's side to pat the mare under us on the back. Considering my experience with horses so far, I was absolutely convinced that they had the same variety of personalities as humans. And this horse of uncertain breed and white markings was strong and enduring, if a bit temperamental. It managed to carry two riders for hours on end without slowing. But whenever I came at it with a saddle, it stared at me with the look that plainly said "If you're the devil, I will not go to hell without a fight." Though we got along. Somewhat. "And I hope you don't expect me to return these clothes to you."

"Consider them a gift," he said stonily.

"I'll pay you back, don't worry."

"May I inquire as to how?"

"Claudia kept various emergency bank accounts that she made sure that all Auditori knew the numbers of. I doubt there are any Medici banks accessible in this part of the city, but there is a bit of money in the Chigi-"

"Absolutely not. Chigi is the Pope's banker, he no doubt keeps an eye on those accounts."

"Claudia isn't that stupid, Niccolo," I grit. "She put them under a different name, separate from Ezio's account. She always kept their florins at a low amount, no more than a mildly successful merchant or condotierro. No one will suspect anything. Besides, whoever said I can't earn money the old fashioned way?"

"Have you ever worked a proper job?" He skeptically asked.

I bit my lip. "Er….not officially?" Selling drugs, stealing money, killing for profit...none of those classified as a 'proper' job. "But I do know carpentry and engineering. Considering the state of houses here..."

"The people hardly have anything to pay, or they would have gotten repairs long ago."

"You, my friend, are a pessimist."

"I am a realist, Eden, preferring to think in broader terms. So believe me when I say, that unless you're willing to do free labor, no one will hire you in the districts where you will not be recognized or laughed at."

"Fine, then. I have not forgotten my thieving skills, either. If it comes to that, I'll head to the rich district and cut a few purses, or break into someone's house. Look, just don't worry about me, I will survive in the city just fine."

"I am not worried about you in the slightest. It is simply easier for all of us if you do not get caught."

"Yes...it is..." I sighed. "Alright, I'm convinced. Where is Isola Tiberina, exactly?"