Cloak, dagger, sword, bag, crossbow, I muttered to myself, checking my usual tools of destruction one last time. I slid the throwing knives into their sheathes with practiced ease, strapped on the closed quiver, tightened my bracer, threw my hood on. And then closed my eyes, letting out a relieved breath.

"You seem pleased," Machiavelli noted, looking up from the letter he was writing for a moment. There was a slight frown on his face, for some reason deeper than usual.

I gave him a slightly strained smile. "What can I say? I love my job. I feel a whole lot more confident now that I'm properly equipped and ready again."

"Just where are you heading?"

"Wherever my legs take me. Don't worry, I'll be back by curfew."

He looked at me with his unamused stare that I was becoming accustomed to. I rolled my eyes and specified, "I'll finish the job and then do some work for the good of all. A bit of pocket change will give me some room to party, too. By the way, I was thinking of refurnishing this place, what do you think?"

"Are you planning on staying in Roma for long, then?"

"Hell yes. So I suppose a few throw pillows are in order..."

Machiavelli gave a tired snort of amusement, surprising me. Then he returned to normal, and furrowed his eyebrows. "I suppose it is a waste of time to tell you to be careful and not draw attention?"

"A complete waste of time," I confirmed as cheerfully as possible.

"Then be gone, woman. Before I catch your insanity."

"You're in a rather lively mood this morning," I raised my eyebrows. Word sparring was one thing, but his voice was insulting this time, "Something wrong?"

"Wolves," he ground out, allowing his frustration to show for a brief moment as he jammed the quill back into the inkwell.

I did a double take. "Wolves?"

"Yes, wolves. The Followers of Romulus. The Sect of Wolves. Lunatics in costumes, pick a name."

"Romulus? As in, the guy who was supposedly fed by a she-wolf and founded Rome?"

"Not exactly, though the legend is hardly important. There is now a cult in his honor: fanatics, insane jackals that live and act like wolves, praising their ghost."

"So? If they feel like gathering into packs and hunting hares and sheep, what does it matter? They'll all die from eating raw meat eventually, anyway." I smirked skeptically. Machiavelli did not think the subject was humorous.

"Eden, they've been terrorizing the outlying farms in the countryside and the poorer districts, driving the people there straight into the arms of the church, begging them for help. Problem is, the Borgia are likely in a close alliance with the cult. Even if the raids stop, it is only for short periods of time." He rubbed the sides of his head tiredly. I felt a small pang of sympathy for him, as I did not hear him come into his room the night before. Considering the numbers of papers on his table, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he hadn't slept at all.

"Then there aren't many options left with them- either exterminate them completely, like cockroaches, or offer them more money than the Borgia are giving."

"I suspect this is not a matter of bribery. This cult was not formed until recently, and it is most likely because of the Borgia agenda that it came to be. We will not be able to forge an alliance with them, and even if we could, I would not take such measures. Too unstable and unpredictable. I think we are better off with your first suggestion. But for that we would need an army, no less. They are...creative in their hideouts, usually skulking around abandoned shrines and buildings, and God knows what is down there..."

"Then what's left to do?"

His fingers almost nervously flicked through the strands of the quill. "My contact within their members has been discovered and executed - that was the last one on the inside. I have only a handful informers from the outside, but they are not always reliable. I have to meet up with a thief in the afternoon, as he had been tracing a message that could provide solid proof of the connection between the Followers and the Borgia. The last few we managed to intercept were coded, but with luck, this one won't be."

"And what are you going to do with that letter?"

"We are not completely without allies. And we have a rather powerful cardinal on our side. Giuliano della Rovere was competing with Rodrigo Borgia for the Papacy during the last conclave, but unfortunately lost."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, then?" I cocked my head with curiosity, "I thought you wouldn't like alliances built only on that."

"I don't, but this goes beyond that. Giuliano is a much better and stronger man than Rodrigo, and he would have been much healthier for Roma and Italy. He still holds many powerful friends, and he is not overly fond of the Templar organization."

"Wait, he knows about that?" I asked with genuine surprise. Considering how generally self-involved the nobles were, it was a rarity for such people to think beyond getting rich on the backs of the poor. Hell, it made sense that most of them were Templars in the first place, save mildly sensible ones like the Medicis of Florence, or the Sforza… …

"Not directly. He suspects- just as he likely suspects that my true loyalties do not lie with any of the governments."

I sat down, deciding to take advantage of Niccolo's suddenly talkative mood. "So if you find solid proof of the Wolves' ties to the Pope-"

"It will hold sway with the cardinals that have been maintaining neutrality, and perhaps with those that were bought by the Borgia. Not all of them know of the underground work, and the Borgias can be quite... persuasive. But this could change a few minds."

"You say the letters are coded, though."

"Yes, they use a one-time cipher, and without the key, the letters are just seemingly random numbers without any pattern."

"Are you so sure this one will be legible?"

"No," he admitted. "Though Vincenzo informed me that the Borgia are getting a bit careless in their false security."

"Why would they be?" I furrowed my eyebrows. "As long as I know Rodrigo, he was always extremely cautious, always trying to foolproof his plans. And after his defeat in the Vatican, I thought he would see no security measure as unnecessary."

"That is the exact problem. Rodrigo has handed nearly all power to his son by now, maintaining only the visibility of control. And Cesare believes that he has wiped all assassins out in Monteriggioni. He is certain that Ezio did not survive the wounds, and the mine collapsed on all those escaping, including you and your student. Considering no one outside of the Order knows of Claudia or Maria, in the eyes of the Borgia, the name Auditore is wiped from Italy's history. The only real reason the wanted posters are still up is as an extra precaution, in case one of you managed to get away."

"He called it a cleansing..." I remembered. For a moment, the fire and war raged in front of my eyes again, but I shook my head, chasing the ghost of the memory away. "But Rodrigo must have known the consequences of attacking an Assassin nest, and how hard it is to exterminate us. He had to have at least warned his son-"

"Cesare does not take any more advice from his father. Only money. The Pope hardly does anything but attend parties and sell Cardinal hats now."

"How are you so informed about Cesare?" I suddenly caught myself. Niccolo looked slightly put out at that, as though he hoped that I wouldn't ask.

"Firenze has sent me to act as an ambassador, figure out if there is any threat to la Tuscana from Cesare. I have traveled with him for a short time."

"Oh... I see, " I drawled, uncertain how to react to such statement. "So…they trust you?"

"Only as much as can be expected. Cesare, no matter the few mistakes he has made, is still a brilliant and talented man. He knows who to keep close, and for how long."

I cocked my head, a suddenly unpleasant feeling washing over me. Cesare Borgia. The name always rang a persistent bell in my head. But I was positive that I have not heard anything in the past few years. But why was he always associated with Niccolo in some way? Where could I have possibly... "You like his ways, don't you?"

"Would you understand if I said that I did?" Machiavelli raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe. If you explain why," I carefully replied, swallowing back my unease at his confession.

"The man has secured power at such blinding speed, though much of his success now is because of his father. But I believe that even without Rodrigo, Cesare would have found a way. The man is very... charming. I suppose that would be the right word; he knows how to make friends, create trust, rally the majority of those he targets as supposed alliesto his side. And then, he's able to turn around and crush his enemies, no matter where his loyalties and oaths lie. It is rare to see someone so...talented in achieving his goals."

"I see."

I had to admit, I agreed with him. Not many people could easily step on the heads of their friends, and still have the drive to move forward and upwards. All in all, I'd seen such examples in history, where no matter how evil the dictator was, nor how much his policies destroyed those forced to serve him, here was no denying that the man had talent and skill.

"It is strange, however..." I suddenly drew out, "That with all his brilliance, his people still hate him."

"You're right. But in a way, he's exhausted the people. Even if they managed to draw a rebellion or a revolution, they simply would not have the energy or means to carry it out it. So he's been proven right again..."

"But if he nurtured and cared for his people, then there would be no need for revolutions, as they would have supported them with both arms and legs," I chuckled without humor. "And now, he has given us an enormous advantage."

"What are you talking about?"

"If we somehow managed to rile the people enough, release them from whatever it is that's keeping them down at the moment- like we did in Firenze with Savonarola- then he will be swept off his feet no matter how many armies surround him."

"It is not so simple, my dear," Machiavelli furrowed his eyebrows. "Relying on the people is quite literally like building on sand. It would take far too long in Roma, with the current state of affairs. We have too many enemies, too many sides working against us, and not enough of those we can trust, especially with our lives. And I think you underestimate the size of Cesare's armies."

"Pessimist."

"Mad woman. If you would like to finally get an idea of exactly what we are dealing with, take a few moments to listen to the heralds on the streets tonight."

"Those liars?" I snorted with contempt, still bitter about the time I heard them call me a senile old hag with warts that steals children and eats them. The man who preached those lies kept his life only because Niccolo managed to catch me at the last moment, and dragged me away from the crowd. The throwing knife that narrowly missed the herald's neck should have served as enough warning for him to remember why his mommy told him not to lie as a kid. "I would not give a copper for their speeches."

"It is true that not all they say is reliable, but they do have a few interesting…news that you'll want to hear. Then again, perhaps not. It might make things a bit more difficult."

"What are you talking about?"

"As... enlightening this conversation is, you are not the only one with places to be," he suddenly changed the subject. "I have given you all I will."

I clenched my teeth. "Stop talking in riddles."

"You said you were going out. So get out, go do whatever it is that your insanity pleads."

"I will go whenever I wish," I curled my lip, "And I'm planning to spare us all further trouble with this information business, and find the Thieves Guild tonight."

"Do you even know where to start looking?" he looked at me with a stare that could freeze fire. With it, my patience snapped, and with one quick movement, I was leaning over the table, hovering an inch away from his face with my teeth bared.

To his credit, he didn't even flinch. Only tensed, but stared back with calm contempt that I was already becoming sick of.

"You ask me not to underestimate the Borgia," I snarled at him, "And yet you continue to underestimate me."

"I am only stating the reality." His tone of boredom bordered on contempt, nearly making my blood boil, though I flexed my fingers where I gripped the table on either side of him. It was better than sticking a blade through his neck, as I knew I would regret that a thousand times over... "I have not been able to find the Thieves Guild, nor could any of my contacts, and yet you expect to find them today?"

My hands were itching towards his neck, but I limited myself with another warning growl. "I know how to look. I also know the underground, and most importantly, how to ask nicely. And while I have you utmost attention, let me give you a fair warning. This is a Brotherhood, Niccolo, as you may have forgotten, and out on the job, we are all equals. All of us, no matter how important you think yourself to be in this, or how much I owe you. So if you ever even think if trying to throw your saving our lives in my face again, I will disregard all common sense and the Creed, and rip off yours. Is that clear?"

He stared at me for a long time, with a deep frown etched into his face, and his eyes boring into mine, as though trying to calculate how much truth my statement held. I don't know exactly what he saw in my face. Perhaps all the fury that was building up for the past few weeks reflected in my expression, or perhaps the maniacal expression that sometimes frightened even those closest to me. Or perhaps he just decided that it was not worth the trouble. But eventually Niccolo backed down, and inclined his head. "Crystal."

My anger cooled just as suddenly as it flared, as though the ice in his voice chilled the fire. I suddenly thought that perhaps I went a little to far. At the very least, I shouldn't have lost control of myself. I knew from bitter experience what happened when I lost track of my anger. And I swore to myself to never allow myself to dive into that hatred again-

-even if hatred and pain can give strength, allow one to see past all logic and reason. Even if the feeling of revenge was one of the sweetest tastes in the world, and at the same time, the most horrifying. But in that moment, when you stand over your own soul's corpse, and see all the carnage you have wrecked, all the people you have killed, all those men who could not believe a little girl could ever even summon up the courage to raise a blade against them, punished, all the torn flesh, the spilled blood, the complete an utter chaos...

You could not help but feel proud. Hurt, terrified, hating, but so proud of the fact that you have proven that you are a force to be reckoned with...

So come on. What's another few corpses in order to get to those responsible for you family? You have killed a lot more for a lot less... Remember that satisfaction? Remember that demonic strength and willpower? It's easy to bring it back. Just allow this rage to take over. Kill, mutilate, destroy...after all, that is the only thing you're good at...all that bullshit about creating life- you never meant it. Deep down, you knew that it was impossible, that a killer like you would ever get the chance. You were born to be a weapon, nothing more- Larry saw to that. Your father did, as well, as much you will never admit it...

Is it independence you want? Well, my darling, take it. Screw the Creed. Forget the assassins. Kill only because you want to. Because you can.

They hurt you. Hurt the world back. Like you did back then.

No? Why not? Why struggle? You're old enough to realize that this is your life, and it will never change, no matter how hard you try. And you don't want it to change, or you wouldn't be here at this moment.

Adel and Ezio...they will die soon too, won't they? With the way this is going. And when they do, you will lose your head. So it's not much of a choice- now or later.

Still no? Well, then. Enjoy your sanity, sweetheart. For all the good it does for you...

I nodded to Niccolo, straightened out, and without any further comment, I hopped out the window to the street below.

Waking up in a familiar place with sharp pains all over his body was becoming a bad habit to Ezio.

He wrinkled he forehead, trying to tear his eyes open, and even managing on the first try. Automatically, he tried to bring his hand to his eyes, but the sharp pain that his shoulder responded with made him gasp and drop it again.

"It's good that you're awake," he heard a quiet female voice mutter somewhere over him. It was unfamiliar, but as soon as he tried to get up, his shoulder screamed with pain, forcing him to fall onto his elbows with a grunt. "Carefully now..."

"Who are you? Where have you brought me?" Ezio finally looked at the woman. She was a fairly young, plump woman with light brown hair and peasant clothing. She was indeed a stranger, Ezio determined, which worried him slightly. The woman did not seem at all surprised by the slight hostility in his voice.

"Nowhere, Messere. You were brought in by a man and a woman." The woman did not try to stop him from getting up, because pretty quickly he realized himself that attempting it was a bleak prospect. "She said to tell you that she has gotten help, but couldn't stay at your side."

He processed that information. Eden, it was definitely her. But why would she-

"Be careful with your wounds," she warned again, though her expression was pleasant enough. "I have never seen someone heal this fast, but you still risk opening them up again if you move," she advised him, but he was already sitting up.

"Did she say anything else?"

"Not- not exactly. She sent a note soon after."

"A note? Can I see it?" Ezio furrowed his eyebrows. Something didn't seem right.

"Right here," rhe woman gave him the slip of parchment. He read over it, and his confusion grew.

~"Machiavelli is in the city, and you are to meet him at the Mausoleo d'Augostino. E."~

The letters were round and neat. It was definitely her best handwriting, but something was off. If she was writing it in a hurry, it shouldn't have been so clean. She was known to use any surface available when writing notes to him, including her own knee, the ground, walls, someone else's back (Ezio woke up to a quill poking his back quite often when she had to write something down, but didn't want to get out of bed). It was unlike her to find a desk and nicely write those things out.

The 'G's were off, too. She drew a little rounded squiggle under them, usually, and the 'C's were not curved in enough. She slanted her 'D's more than the other letters. Those were very small catches, ones that only someone who knew Eden for a very long time would notice. And Ezio qualified as just that.

The note was likely forged. But by whom? And why? To draw him into an ambush? What was in Mausoleo d'Augostino? And why Machiavelli?

"Machiavelli?" The situation was making less and less sense to him. "Why couldn't she meet me?"

"I do not know. Here, if you are intent on leaving, let me help you get dressed," the woman helped him stand up. With a grunt, Ezio decided things were not so bad. Granted, the pain continued to shoot through his arm and side, but it was hardly anything that a bit of medicine wouldn't fix...

He noted with surprise a familiar beaked cowl on the table beside the bed.

"Did she leave these for me?" Ezio asked with some hesitation, realizing that those were not his original robes. Nor were they that of Altair. They were much more plain, without streaks of red over the doublet, plain white with a crimson silk collar. That was believable, as Eden never really had much taste for unnecessary decorations or lace. And his own armor was likely crushed in... the villa. The clothes fit perfectly, however, so he decided to simply ask her about it later, once he found her.

"No, these were delivered here an day after she left... I assume that she had sent them, though."

"Where are we?" he asked as he got dressed. The woman showed no signs of surprise as he tested out the new hidden blade, and Ezio wondered again why Eden brought him here, or how she even knew this woman.

"Roma... or, rather, whatever is left of it since the Borgia took power," she bitterly replied, opening the door to show him. The light streamed into the room, forcing Ezio to shield his eyes as he took a step outside. "Unfortunately, you cannot see the Mausoleo from here."

"How about from the roof of that church?" he pointed to the chapel he could see rising on the edge of the city.

"Yes, but the stairs up are closed."

"That will not be a problem. Thank you for you aid, bravo donna." He gave her a respectful bow, and immediately his shoulder shot with pain. He let out a small grunt, putting a hand on the wall of the house, trying to chase away the dizziness.

"You would do well to see a doctor, Messere. There is one working down this street, in the shade of the ruined aqueduct."

"Of course," he nodded, and set off. Walking was painful, and he was beginning to worry that he would simply collapse in the middle of the road by the time the doctor finally came in sight.

"I require medicine," he ground out, coming to a blissful stop.

The doctor sighed, his eyes tired despite the early hour. "Let me see..."

After the examination, the man shook his head. "This has been very crudely worked, but the stitches are secure and there doesn't seem to be any infections. I'm afraid a man your age cannot recover from a wound like this with medicine. It will heal in time, but I can give you a potion for the pain. You should be able to use the arm."

"Thank you," Ezio nodded, putting out the coins that he found in the purse attached to his belt. Eden seemed to have thought things through.

"Four out of five doctors would have prescribed leeches, but they have not been proven effective against this type of injury. However, I can recommend some men in the city, should you require any more aid."

"Very well." Ezio listened closely to the names and their general location. There were only a few doctors in the city, he realized when the man told him of only three. That was... unfortunate, but Eden was proficient enough in healing to keep his wounds from becoming worse.

He left the doctor, and began walking towards the church, drinking the medicine on the move. The pain dulled, and soon he was able to walk without slumping over. He regained his usual confident stroll, and then suddenly realized something that made him slouch his shoulders again.

"Someone my age... Imbicile..." he muttered under his breath, sending a glare in the doctor's general direction. He did not consider himself that old. Old men usually sat behind doors, in front of fires, complaining about the good old days. Not climbing churches with an injured shoulder. And he was still far too handsome and charming.

He was not old.

Well, I couldn't just walk away.

Of course not. Just like any other assassin, I just had to put my nose into it. Despite the fact that I quite clearly understood that there was no way I could stop all the violence in the city single handedly, and that really, my interference made absolutely no difference. All it did was give me away too soon.

And of course my opening just couldn't be a simple blade in the throat of the captain, it just had to be the cocky "What has this man done wrong?"

He turned around to look at me, and all the soldiers paused, also surprised at me. I guessed not many people actually stop to ask about the situation.

"Man? Signora, this is no man. He is a slave, filth and a heretic!"

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my composure. "He's wearing a crucifix. What makes you think he's a heretic?"

"They all do that, thinking it fools us!" one of the guards that was twisting the man's arm cried in fury.

"Signora, take my good advice- keep walking," the Captain was a bit more civilized, likely noting that my clothes were not that of a lowlife. At least, not anymore, thanks to Machiavelli. The fabric was even and dyed, my good old boots made from good leather- things that the common folk could not afford, especially not in Roma. So I was likely taken for some noble woman with a small tick for wearing pants instead of skirts. "We won't kill him, I promise you. We're simply going to teach him his man-"

The victim suddenly interrupted him with a loud groan that tore through his throat, and he spit blood onto the ground. The Captain's eyes flared, and he raised his fist. The punch never landed, however.

"I think he is not the one in need of a lesson in manners," I calmly stated, holding his arm in the air. Everyone gaped, including the man they were beating up. I decided not to waste the moment of confusion, and put a blade to the Captain's throat. "Let him go."

All of them pulled out their own blades, dropping the man. He fell face first into the ground, and I nodded in satisfaction.

"Wench, take a step away from the Captain."

"No," I coldly replied to that. "You honestly think I won't kill him if you so much as make a step towards me?" I brought my chin to rest on the captain's shoulder, smiling maniacally. "Try it, and I'll cut his throat. Leave this place, and I will let him go, and even without any scratches..."

"Do what she says," the Captain hissed at his men. I had held hostage bigger men than him, and he must have realized that he had absolutely no space to free himself. The blade was too tight to his artery. Even a flinch, a deep breath, and it would be over. "This piece of filth is not worth it."

"Hehe, I always find that holding a sharp weapon to someone's neck makes them more agreeable," I smiled with approval. "Go on now. I can kill you all if you'd like, but I'd rather live this day without more casualties- trust me."

"What are you, some sort of peaceful rebel?" The captain sneered, and I pressed the blade just a breath closer to the thudding skin in his neck, effectively shutting him up. The other guards did not run with their tails between their legs, but carefully backed away, keeping eye contact. Smart move, considering they did not know if I was bluffing or not...

Once they were out of sight, I let out a small laugh.

"Smart men they've started to breed... smart, and very sadistic. Ruining stalls, keeping poverty and despair in the city...is that your game? Actually, don't answer, I can see for myself.."

"Just shut up! You know nothing! Let me-" the command was cut short by my blade. He sunk to the ground in front of me, his hand not even making it to his throat. I knew how to kill quickly.

I shook my head to myself, and leaned down, wiping the sword on his cloak. Then I sheathed it, and turned to the beat up man on the ground. He stared at me with shock, his large jaw touching the earth. His face was slightly out of the ordinary in Italy, though I'd seen black men on the streets before, especially of port cities like Venezia and Forli. Paranoid people, understandably so. I'd also seen quite a few people, even the common peasants, look at them as though they were something they'd scraped from their boots. Disgusting, but that was history for you.

Personally, I never really saw differences between races. I preferred to judge people a bit more on their abilities and beliefs rather than the color of their skin. That did not mean I didn't scoff when confronted by Muslim beliefs, just like I did with Christian ones. But I tried to be one of the better, less violent skeptics in that aspect...

"Come on, up you go. We have to get out of here, or those men will come back," I extended him my hand. After a moment of hesitation, he took it, and I helped him stand up. He was shaky and uncertain on his feet, but he did not fall down again. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Then follow me."

"Why..."

"Because I think he was the only filth present." I thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged, leading the man away. "And also because he was my target. A bit of pocket change, really, but..."

"No," he shook his head, cutting me off. "Why help?"

"What?" That confused me slightly. "Because you looked like you needed help. What is your name again?"

"Anwar."

"A pleasure. I'm Eden." I looked glanced behind us as I dragged him into the nearest alley. "Do they know where you live?"

"I…do…not know."

"Then move your family. They will not appreciate my little stunt, that's for certain..."

"No family."

"Oh, well, even easier, then. Move yourself somewhere else. By the way, what the hell did those jackasses want?"

He looked at me as though I was mentally disabled. I was understanding less and less of the situation.

"I from Tangier…Morocco."

"So?"

That stumped him. "I from Tangier," he repeated, his face showing the utmost concentration. Then he recounted words that must have been familiar to him by now. "Slave, heretic, negro..."

"Oh, wait, I get it!" I slapped myself on the forehead. "Well, people are a bit narrow minded, aren't they? It's alright, let's just get out of here."

He tilted his head to the side. I only just realized that he replied to me in short sentences and had a look of confusion on his face while I talked.

"Oh- how much Italian do you speak?"

He either guessed what I meant, or knew a bit more than let on, but he made a gesture with his thumb and forefinger, showing that he knew very little.

"English?"

He shook his head.

"I see. Do you have any place to go?"

He didn't seem to understand. I chewed on my lip in thought.

"Home?"

He shrugged.

"Bed? Money? Anything?"

He pointed at the ground.

"Well that's just not good," I hummed. "I'm almost afraid to leave you alone, those guards might beat you again, or question you about me. I can't let you come with me, I'm really sorry, but that isn't my decision to make. So how about I buy you lunch, and we'll figure it out?"

He listened silently, likely not understanding what I had said, but watching me intently.

"Are you hungry?" I raised my eyebrows. "I know I am."

Anwar's eyes darted in the direction of the market. Then he looked at me with a mixture of deep confusion and disbelief. I mirrored it, not really understanding why he reacted this way.

"Food. You know, eating," I smiled, "I got some pocket change thanks to that captain, so I can spare it."

"Ezio," Machiavelli greeted coolly, but with well-acted out surprise. "I did not expect to run into you here."

"I thought you had sent for me." Ezio narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicious. Something didn't feel right with the entire story that the lady told him, and there was a rather obvious false note in Niccolo's voice.

"Never. News of the villa attack spread rapidly through Roma. Until Eden showed up a few nights ago, I thought you were dead."

"Not yet. I am still very much alive."

"Let us make sure the Borgia don't hear of this, or their attention will return. Come, walk with me. Try not to draw any attention to yourself."

"When do I ever?" Ezio fell into step beside the man. "To tell the truth, I expected to find Eden here."

"Eden is occupied at the moment," the politician shrugged.

Ezio felt a sharp tug of disappointment, "What has she been doing?"

"Socializing," there was a slight twitch on Machiavelli's lips, as though he remembered something. "She is perfectly alright, you will see her- well, whenever she chooses to come back. She has been out for most of the days, coming back only for rest and directions."

"I see." Eden was still in her element, going where she pleased without notice and disregarding all human curfews. Though she had been doing it less over the past decade, Ezio thought back. She once complained that she was becoming too domestic, but it was never really an issue. Yet in a way, it was easy to tell that she was restless in a small town like Monteriggioni. Roma had to be more to her tastes...

"It is wise to replace any missing equipment. You will not survive in Roma for long without it," Machiavelli changed the subject, heading towards a blacksmith shop.

"I have my blade."

"And the guards have their guns, courtesy of the Borgia." Niccolo came to a halt, glaring at Ezio, and got out his money pouch. "Fortunately for you, I can help. And while you are in my debt, perhaps you will listen to reason."

"As soon as I hear some, I will let you know," Ezio sneered back, but took the money, stepping up to the blacksmith's window. The shopping did not take long, as there was not much choice in the merchandise. He briefly balanced the thin dagger on his finger, and was left unsatisfied. He was used to being able to afford the best equipment, and being forced to deal with only the most inferior of weapons left him in a slightly worse mood.

"Now you should be able to survive the trip back to Firenze. Eden had made it clear that she was staying here, but perhaps-"

"I am not going to Firenze."

"Oh?"

"Roma will not be freed until we rise up against the Borgia. Every last one of them," Ezio calmly stated.

"I do not recall such brave talk at Monteriggioni."

"How could I have known that they will find us so quickly?" Anger flashed in his voice, "That they would kill Mario?"

Machiavelli did not comment on that, but his thoughts of "But you should have foreseen the consequences," were loud enough. Instead, he changed the subject. "Rodrigo surrounds himself with powerful men, snakes, like him. Even his daughter, Lucrezia, has been sharpened into one of his most artful weapons. But even she pales in comparison to the man who was behind the attack on the villa. He is ruthless and cruel beyond imagining. The laws of men mean nothing to him."

"Give me his name." Ezio's voice was carefully controlled, but his eyes promised blood.

"Cesare Borgia. He has amassed an army and gained many allies throughout Europe. Those who are not destroyed by him scramble to his side. Powerful families, like the Orsini and the Colonna have been brought down to kneel before him. Even the French king has given his support." Niccolo held a pause, and then concluded, "He set his sights on all of Italia, and at this rate, he shall have it."

"Is that admiration I hear in your voice?" Ezio narrowed his eyes. Machiavelli looked up to the sky with a somewhat weary look on his face.

"The man knows how to exercise his will. A rare virtue in the modern day and age."

"I'm sure."

They paused near the stables, which were closed. Well, more like barricaded, much like most of the shops and stores of the city. Ezio could hear horses on the other side of the boards, and briefly wondered who would do that to the poor animals.

"Roma is quite large," Ezio must have noticed the stables, as well. "Would it not be faster to travel by horse?"

"The Borgia have taken over desirable areas of the city," Niccolo waved his hand in the direction of a tall tower, which bore flags with a crimson bull on them. Crows circled above it, filling the air with shrill, croaking squawk that made him shiver. They looked more like vultures circling the battlefield in search of flesh rather than innocuous birds. Ezio did not believe in ill omens, but how much more obvious could you get? "We cannot use the stables here," Machiavelli's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh, and the word of the Borgia is law now?" Ezio raised an eyebrow.

Niccolo looked affronted. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Do not play dumb with me, Machiavelli." Ezio narrowed his eyes, and walked away, heading to the tower.

"What is you plan?"

"I'm improvising."

I patted the horse on the neck, and she immediately began sniffing my pockets. I laughed and gave her the apple that I got just for her. She ate it, thoughtfully chewing through the offering, and decided it was good enough. I didn't climb up the offered side, however, turning back around to Anwar.

"I still have business in the city," I spoke, still not minding the fact that he likely didn't understand any of it. "You know, you could try going over to the Thieves Guild or something, or the mercenaries. They're not very picky about who they take into their ranks, as long at they are reliable and silent."

He stared and then made a vague gesture with his arms, spreading them in question. Then he opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by an explosion that happened somewhere in the city.

We both turned to the sound, along with the other passing citizens, all throwing each other confused glances. I furrowed my eyebrows together, and forgetting myself, climbed up onto the roof of the stable to get a better look. Once I saw the source of the noise, I let out a low whistle.

"Well, will you look at that!" I spoke loudly, so the people down below could hear. I couldn't help the glee that entered my voice at the splendid sight. "One of the Borgia towers is burning!"

"What?"

"There is no way..."

"The Sire will be furious!"

"What do we care? We didn't do it..."

"Are you daft? You know how much life gets worse when the Borgia are unhappy?"

"It can't be worse than what we're forced to deal with already!"

"Ja, if that wasn't bad enough, they also made friends with those damned French! As though we didn't get enough of them when they stormed through the streets and burned down our houses only because the Pope was too much of a coward to come out and face them!"

"SHH! Are you insane? If the guards hear you talking like this..."

"Get off the roof, wench! We don't have money to put new tiles in!"

I stuck my tongue out at the barkeeper below, and waved a hand to Anwar, deciding not to waste anymore time. I first planned to go by horse, by then I came to the conclusion that hunting was much easier on foot.

The new development has put me in a good mood, and I ran over the rooftops with far more energy and enthusiasm than I'd felt since I arrived in the city. Hah, I almost forgot how absolutely refreshing it was to run like this without anyone on your tail. I darted and flew fast enough to become a blur to the archers, making my way without any opposition towards the Antico district...

"I seems the stables are now available for purchase." Machiavelli ground out at Ezio's approach. The assassin smirked, throwing away the blackened torch, and nodded.

"After you," he gestured with sarcastic politeness.

"How is it you manage to draw more attention than your uncontrollable wife, I will never know."

"Ha! You don't know Eden! If I can do that, she could have the entire Castello Sant Angelo go up in flames." Ezio mounted the readied horse.

"Let us hope it does not come to that. Though she has been acting strangely lately, so I would not be surprised." Niccolo shrugged.

"Strangely? She- she didn't go into a frenzy, did she?" Ezio furrowed his eyebrows with sudden worry.

"No, but she appeared close to it a few times. I don't think she realizes just how transparent she is..."

Ezio jerked his shoulder. "What did she do?"

"Nothing you should concern yourself with at the moment. Come, I am meeting a contact in the countryside."

I huffed, finally forcing the thief to the ground. "Damn it, I'm not trying to hurt you! Please stop running away!"

"Did I take your money or something?" he yelled in protest, but, I held his arms behind his back, rendering him unable to twist or wiggle. "Women these days-"

I caught my breath, and pushed my knee onto his back as well, just to be sure. "Now, before I have my way with you-"

"CHE COSA?"

"I'm kidding. Look, I'm searching for the Thieves Guild."

"Wha- a guild?" he snorted, but very unconvincingly. "You're confusing me with those Cento Occhi thugs- AH!" I sat on him with my full weight. There was no one around, thankfully, because he ran off the road in the country side, and we were now on the grass beside the city walls. "Who the hell are you?" His voice was now strangled.

"I'll give you a hint." I crossed my legs as though I was on a picnic cloth rather than another human. "I kill people who don't share information."

"Good hint..." he didn't seem to appreciate my efforts.

"Better than some. Now talk. I know there is a proper Thieves Guild somewhere in Roma, and I don't mean these Hundred Eyed freaks. So either you talk, or I'll start removing bits of you with a blunt knife. And guess where I'll start..."

At that exact moment, there were soft footsteps somewhere behind me, and a familiar voice cut in.

"That's enough. Eden, be so kind as to get off Francesco."

"Wooptie doo, look who it is," I looked around at the man and crossed my arms, deciding it was now safe to remove them from the thief's. He didn't even try to get up, still squashed by my weight. "And there I was actually beginning to get worried that the Master Thief was losing his touch..."

The Fox let out a small, carefree laugh, coming closer. "So you knew I was here?"

"Suspected. We haven't heard from you since the meeting in Monteriggioni, so I figured you would always be in the one place we'd least expect."

"Can you get off me... please?" Francesco tried feebly to get up.

"Well, as long as you said the magic word," I rolled my eyes, getting to my feet. The young thief groaned, and remained on the ground for a few more seconds before getting up as well. "Funny, I thought men liked women on top of them. Silly me."

The glare he sent me was far from pleased. La Volpe, however, broke out laughing, driving the thief into scarlet. "I'm glad to see your tongue hasn't lost its edge. Now, you wanted to find me?"

"Oh yes," I tilted my head as I watched Francesco limp on his way. "Are we going to talk out in the open, or..."

He smiled, "By all means. Follow me- I've been located in a rather charming little inn to the southwest of here..."

My impression of the inn was not flattering. Simple, creaking, tasteless furniture, cheap ale, very shady characters behind all tables. I was greeted with suspicious looks at first, but as soon as they saw who I was accompanying, everyone lost their interests in violence. A few even sent me evaluating glances and winks, though I ignored them. Truth was that the underworld had much more tolerances towards women like me. After all, they were men of simple tastes. A pretty figure and a show of character, and they didn't care that my face was a little marred.

I think that is why I would always prefer the thieves and mercenaries to all other classes. Even peasants wanted perfectly normal, obedient wives to bring them healthy children. And I was used to receiving looks of contempt from all ladies, outside of allied courtesans. Sure, some of the courtesans (the newer ones, usually) were brainwashed by the society they lived in, feeling sorry for me, despite the fact that I didn't care for how I looked. Some even thought themselves more beautiful than me, and they were right. But the majority of them were committed to our goals, if only because it gave them the freedom to ply their trade. So, much like the thieves and mercenaries, their company superseded the ordinary citizens. Not to mention, in my case, it really wasn't my face that made friends. Besides, we had Adelaide for eye candy persuasion. I was just there for the fighting.

"Can you explain why you and your thieves refuse to speak to Machiavelli?" I finally asked when I dropped into the seat opposite of La Volpe in the table furthest from the front entrance, but closest to the back exit. I noticed a few men stood up from their tables, and casually stood between us and the rest of the inn.

At Niccolo's name, all laughter disappeared from the Fox's face. He even seemed angry for a second. "Has he sent you to try to and get my thieves help?"

"No. I came on my own accord," I crossed my arms. "We have almost no allies in Roma. Not to mention I can't get a decent set of lock picks anywhere else... But Machiavelli has little to do with this."

His face lifted slightly, though his eyes still stared with mistrust. "Considering your condition-"

"Do not start on my conditions," I flashed my eyes.

He put his hands up in a calming gesture. "Look, Eden, at this inn, La Volpe Addornentata, you and your family are always welcome to visit. But I'm afraid that I am not going to play right into that traitor's hands and you can tell Ezio that."

"What am I, a courier pigeon?" I snorted. "First you make me chase down some thief who hasn't even learned to run away from crazy ladies properly yet, and now you're openly telling me to shove it?"

"Eden, I meant no offense, but I hold firm on the decision," he gently told me, patting my shoulder. "Machiavelli is a traitor to our cause, and I will not help any of his plans."

"Can you at least explain why you think that he is a traitor?"

"He left Monteriggioni just before the attack, did he not?"

"Coincidence. He was also the one to meet me after the said attack, while I was half fucking naked and exhausted beyond belief, and Ezio was unconscious from his wounds. He was also the one that told me to keep away from all towns on my way to Roma. I don't know if this fits into your story in any way, but he saved both our lives."

"And yet, I can see doubt in your eyes. You don't trust him completely, either?"

"I-" Dammit, he caught me there. "There are...holes in his story, I admit, but that is not enough for such accusations. Maybe he wanted to avoid the very same suspicion that you are telling me of now."

"Or perhaps he is not telling you everything because he has something to hide."

"No, that cannot be it- I would have known. Ezio would have definitely spotted some sort of false note."

"Would you now?" La Volpe raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," I spoke with confidence. Eagle Vision became a constantly underlying enhancer of our senses. Ezio, who had known it since childhood, more so. If Niccolo had switched allegiance, he would have caught him back at the villa, before the attack.

"It is true that your and your husband's bloodlines give you special...senses?" the way that La Volpe fleetingly grinned and flashed his violet eyes made me slightly suspicious all of a sudden. I'd heard the stories going around about the Master Thief, though I hardly believed them. Was there more to him that he let on…? "But is it not possible that someone would figure out what it reacts to? Perhaps Machiavelli has shielded himself from your instincts?"

Before I could open my mouth to stubbornly reply that there was no way Eagle Vision could have been fooled, I suddenly set my jaw again, deflating. "If that is true, we are waist deep. And not in water..."

"You rely on familiar talents far too much. You have to step up your game. Eden, I can tell you are not as convinced of his innocence as you claim. Keep your eyes peeled- after all, you are closer to him now."

"Yes, first it's keeping an eye on him, then it's shifting through his desk and mail, and next you'll be telling me to figure out what he says between the sheets, too," I rolled my yes skeptically. At La Volpe's thoughtful stare, I nearly jumped up with irritation. "No."

"Not even for the sake of the Greater Good?" he mischievously asked.

"I will tattoo a templar cross on my forehead before I even consider it," I dropped, cutting the conversation as though with a knife. Sadly, La Volpe sometimes just got too carried away with his jokes.

"Well, it was only a suggestion. I mean, you are much more trustworthy than a hired courtesan, and-"

"Don't even. If you hadn't forgotten, I'm married."

"I never forget a thing, dear Eden," he smirked, "But you're living in an age where such things are not only quite common, but almost required. It's a wonder Ezio and you stayed faithful to each other that long, in any case-"

I think the ale finally hit my stomach, because I suddenly broke out laughing. "That is ridiculous. I am not about to cheat on him just to stay within the social norms."

"Isn't that sweet. Are you so sure?"

"Careful, there, Volpe, you're coming off a bit strong," I grinned, now completely sure the entire conversation was a joke. He chuckled.

"I am at least three times your age, you realize?"

I stuck my tongue out at him, and then sighed, leaning back. A suddenly bitter feeling entered my mind, and my humor diminished slightly. "I don't know about three times...I am definitely not twenty anymore. Mind you, I am still in shape, but..."

"Don't hang your nose," he grinned. "Like I said, I am much older than you. You aren't saying I'm old, are you?"

"You, old? Wouldn't dream of it," I laughed. "You know, some days I wonder if you're even human."

"You listen to gossip, Eden?" His tone was suddenly serious, and he turned his head toward the window.

"Not really. Though someone did tell me that I should start."

"That would be wise. Most things out on the streets these days- well, let me just say that the heralds have no need to exaggerate."

"Can't one of you please tell me what is going on?"

"Your friend, Leonardo. You haven't heard from him in a while, correct?"

"What the hell does he have to do with anything?"

La Volpe only sighed. "Come with me. I will show you something."