-Stefano-
To say the least, Stefano was not happy.
Oh, sure, it seemed like such a grand idea at the time- rebel against your own army, be claimed a traitor, come crawling back to Roma, hoping to outrace pursuit and messages, and then go from there.
But when you're stranded outside the gates, smothering road dust and ashes over your hair and emblems on your armor, the idiocy of the notion begins to catch up with you.
For the first time in days, the soldier was thinking, and thinking grim thoughts.
Where was he supposed to go, once inside the city? His family wouldn't take him back, not after his stunt with the whole treachery deal. It was better to forget his own surname at this point, as it would not do him any favors in the city.
Some ash got into his eye, and he cursed under his breath, but didn't dare try to get it out with his muddy hands. He probably looked enough like a poor mercenary at this point to slip in with the crowds coming into the city for the night, if the guards didn't look too closely.
And to think, at one point, he could have marched right up to them and yelled at them until they wet their codpieces, even getting paid for it.
Now, he was reduced to smothering his wonderful and amazing hair with ash, on purpose, simply to avoid any sort of recognizable traits. Blond hair was fairly common, yet not enough not to warrant, at the very least, a second glance.
He slouched, too, making his step wider and more sloppy than his usual sharp march and ruining his pristine posture. That was all he could do, so there was no reason to prolong the ordeal any longer.
He stepped out onto the dirt road, joining the slow stream of people leading up to the Northern gates. The further he walked, the more nervous he was starting to get. To distract himself from making any fatal mistakes, he started listening to the conversations around him. Those were few and quiet, but people were people; they all got bored of simply walking like aimless cattle eventually.
"Cesare took most of the army with him. Perhaps it won't be so bad."
"I have family there, they lost their home to those guards. I tell you, it doesn't matter how many there are, if they have sharp weapons, they take advantage."
" And what can we do? They have swords and armor and training, we have nothing but gray hair and rags."
"…I heard the assassins are back."
"I heard that Cesare burned them all out, killed every last one and everyone that tried to protect them."
Stefano couldn't help a quiet snort and a faint flicker of hope. Everyone heard tales of the Assassins in white and their work in north Italy, and it wasn't a secret (not for the lack of trying on the Borgia's behalf) that they broke into the Basilica and nearly murdered the Pope before fighting their way through a legion's worth of men to get out.
Some said there was only one assassin, and others said there was an entire underground organization. No matter, whoever he or they were, apparently they actively worked to overthrow the government. Stefano didn't know which version to believe. But all came to the conclusion that if the assassins decided to go up and arbitrarily build a base in your city, you better be on the right side of it.
Most soldiers laughed mockingly when passing the story around the campfires. But the funny thing was, they slept with knives under their pillows and didn't look too hard when they were on watch duty. Not that anyone blamed them for it…
"Did you fight your way through Cesare's army or somethin'?" Stef was snapped out of his thoughts by the jarring voice. He mentally cursed himself for missing the gates' approach. "Why you all torn up, eh?"
The last thing he needed was more attention, so he replied, "Ran into some resistance- erm, bandit raid."
The man narrowed his eyes slightly. "Bandits, yeah, those would do it. You sorta look like one yourself. Not one, are ya?"
Stefano was honestly insulted by the notion, even though in his condition, he shouldn't have been surprised. But it was obvious he overplayed a little bit.
"Not one myself, sir, no."
"Oh, relax, no one cares. Weirdo you are, though. Look like a thug, talk like a lord. Who'd you be, then? Hurry up, we haven't got all day. Or, we do, but I guess this lot can wait 'till mornin'."
The rest of the guard laughed loudly and mockingly.
"Just a mercenary," Stefano tried to keep it simple.
"When people say 'just', always means there's more. But tell ya what, donate a few coins to this glorious city, and we'll forget your pretty face."
Stefano's stomach dropped. He spent the last of his modest pay to buy food from a market of a tiny village to the north. He didn't have a copper left on him, and that… was very bad.
"Sure doesn't look that glorious," he commented before he could stop himself.
"What was that?"
"Got no money on me, sorry."
"What kinda mercenary are you?"
"Obviously not a very successful one. Or maybe a very charitable one…" His chance of getting into the city unnoticed was screwed ten ways to hell, so he decided there was no harm in witty last words.
They weren't impressed. "This one decides to be smart with us, after disrespecting this beautiful city and our lords, the Borgia. I think he needs a lesson…"
"I think you should really stop talking. Nobody wants to hear a voice like that," Stefano sighed, pulling out his blade.
"Hey boys, lookie here! We got ourselves an army man!" one of the quicker men suddenly exclaimed, eyes narrowing to vicious slits of icy blue as he speedily unsheathed his own weapon. A pity the weapons are so nice and new, Stephano distantly thought to himself, arching a brow of admiration at how the freshly forged steel glinted in the sunlight. Especially as the guard tossed from one hand to the other, trying to circle him. I'm sure I could tear them all to pieces with it, assuming they don't fight dirty.
Yeah, right. Who am I kidding on that one? He almost started laughing at the absurdity of it; Borgia soldiers fighting fair? As though that was ever going to happen in his lifetime.
Stef took a look at his own sword, and hissed a string of curses. Dammit. The blade was his father's, but the mark on the hilt was one issued to the military swords. A tiny precaution, useful for identification and cases like these.
"Why would a soldier say he's a mercenary? Did ya steal that sword?"
"I say he's a deserter! Get your blades, men, we have ourselves a bounty to collect!"
They connected the dots quickly enough and it really didn't bode well for Stefano. Even if he got past these men, the word would spread anyway, and they'd know he was here. Traitors and deserters were not forgiven, and with good reason. He may as well let them kill him on the spot, the result would be just about the same if he continued to hide.
The traffic of people faltered. Some, thinking quickly, slipped behind the guards' backs into the city, and only then turned around and watched. A fight was brewing, and everyone was in the mood for entertainment. No matter that most of them were half-starved. After all, blood always fed most people's appetites, as little as they wanted to admit it. "What is wrong with these people?" The idea of somebody enjoying violence and death was appalling to somebody who saw his friends get cut down on the battlefield for no real reason other than the side they picked. And yet, here they were.
The guards kept shouting "Traitor!" at him as they charged. Despite the weaponry, it was all sloppy attacks, minimal training, no experience. Stefano parried and stepped back, into the city, and the crowds moved to accommodate his path. He didn't want to kill, though the men were grating his nerves beyond reason. He didn't attack himself, even when they backed him into a wall.
One got a lucky hit on him, slashing open his arm. He ground his teeth, but even as he ignored the pain, things got a whole lot more difficult. A punch to the jaw here, a slice of the dagger along his collar bone there, and he suddenly stumbled, almost hitting the ground before he could recover. There were just too many of them. Another mistake like that, and they'd run him through. Assuming they wanted to end it quick. Likely not…
And then something happened.
The man in white came out of nowhere. He just appeared out of the crowds, as though he had been watching the entire time, somehow invisible. From his position with his back braced against the city wall, Stefano barely parried a soldier's sword thrust. Yet he didn't really care now, for he swore to high heaven he was the only one that saw the ghost coming. It had to be unnatural, as none of the crowd reacted in the slightest to his presence. He was a bit taller and heavier than the lot of them, too, and bristling with all sorts of weapons. The brace of throwing knives at his hip was particularly impressive. Especially as he calmly palmed one, his graceful fingers seeming to almost caress it for a split second.
It flew from his hands like lightning.
Without warning, two of the guards dropped to the ground with bleeding throats.
How the hell did he not see that the apparition threw brace knives? And at the same time, no less?
Mind reeling, Stefano quickly realized that it not be quite the day he'd meet St. Peter at the gates. Apparently granted another chance by Providence, he took advantage of the situation as quickly as his surprise allowed him, giving the last remaining man three quick hits, slashing from his shoulder to the opposite hip on the third.
"Thank you," he breathed out to the assassin when it became obvious that the battle was finished, "I was starting to wonder how I was going to get out of that."
"You're a deserter of Cesare's armies, or the French?" The man possessed a low and smooth voice, infinitely assured. Then again, who wouldn't be with a throwing arm like that?
"Cesare's. I was a lieutenant on the battlefield," Stefano shrugged, still catching his breath. It really no longer mattered. "I…resigned. Should have wasted a spare moment on the paperwork, though I was afraid I'd have one less head before I filled in the last signature."
The lips under the hood thinly smiled, the scar on the corner stretching. "So why did you do that?"
"Deserted?" Stefano snorted, thoroughly unashamed as he drew himself up to his full height, "Let's just say I didn't agree with the philosophy."
"Would you agree with ours?"
"Really depends on what it is, assassin."
"And so you know of us?" the hooded man steadily declared. It was casual, though Stephano didn't miss the subtle way in which his hand flew to the dagger sheathed in his sword belt.
The mercenary found himself unconsciously taking a step back, forcing his own voice to remain neutral. "Well, now that you've confirmed all rumors?" Stephano shrugged again, running a hand through his hair to sweep it from his sweaty forehead, "Yeah, I'd say so. And you are-?"
"Ezio Auditore, and we are working for the liberation of Roma."
"And you would trust a traitor?"
"Yes." There was absolutely no hesitation or uncertainty behind that word.
Stefano thought for only a moment, but even a fool would realize that he had nowhere else to turn.
"As I said, I've heard of you, and your reputation. My sword is yours, if you'll have me." Per the tradition of offering his new master his loyalty, Stefano dropped down onto his knee. Ezio smiled again, and offered him his arm. As he grasped it, it felt almost like signing a contract.
"Come along, then. You're not my first recruit of the day, and she's waiting just a few yards away."
"'She'? You're recruiting women, as well?"
"Don't let my wife hear that skepticism," the assassin briefly chuckled, "It's a touchy subject."
That baffled Stefano a bit further, though considering his unique position it would have been more fitting to just take it all in a stride. Not to mention, he honestly didn't expect the word "wife" to be mentioned anywhere in a conversation with a confirmed assassin.
He spared a glance to the dying and dead men on the ground, but didn't feel any regret as he assumed he should have had. Instead, he followed the man in white through the streets, riding out the calming tremors of the crowds.
"Where are you taking me- us?"
"A safe place. You seem like you need it: Cesare isn't forgiving of deserters."
"Yes, that much is obvious by the warm homecoming."
-Eden-
"How did my life come to this?" I asked before the door even got a chance to open. When they came inside, I was bent over the thick, but so far mostly blank book, glowering at it as though it was the reason world hunger existed.
"Er-"
"No, don't answer that," I waved my hand in the air, cutting him off, "I know the story. Blah blah blah, we've got no one to spare, yada yada, Claudia has her own show to run now. But why me?"
"Because-"
"Because apparently, I'm the only one that can count beyond a hundred around this place, is that it?"
"Hey, I can count-"
"But you're too busy saving the world to waste your time on accounting. Yeah, I see how it is."
Ezio sighed heavily, giving in. "I will hire an accountant at the bank to go over the records."
I perked up, finally turning my head up.
"Yay! Now, who the hell are you and what are you doing in our super secret hide-out?" I pointed my quill at the two extra people in the room, more jokingly than threatening.
"They are, in a manner of speaking, recruits."
"Recruits." I blinked, "As in…?"
"As in, they are going to live and be trained here."
"Wait, stop right there!" I flailed my arms, "I just got out of the accountant responsibility. Don't tell me I have to be a babysitter again."
"They are a little too old to need babysitting. I have to go find Niccolo, so I will just leave these two with you to get patched up." Ezio seemed eager to leave the room for some reason. I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Oh, so you recruit them and bring them here, and now I have to find beds and bandages for them? There aren't enough beds here, anyway, I didn't expect anyone incoming."
"Or maybe we don't have enough money to spare for an accountant…"
I threw my hands up in panicking surrender. "Alright! I'll look under the sink!"
"That's a good girl," he smirked before speedily heading back out the door.
"Whatever!" I muttered, briefly glancing down to the desk. The inkpot would've made a rather nice dent in my husband's thick skull. Then again, it wasn't exactly good form to go scaring off new recruits. We needed all hell we could get.
To hell with that! If they can't take it, they can turn right around and head back home…
The recently empty inkwell smashed inpt the closed door, and I could hear his laughter outside.
Sighing, I turned around to the 'recruits'. They were watching the exchange with some bewilderment, though there was a small smile on the man's face.
"So," I waved, "What's your story, then?"
"Excuse me?" The man with the soldier's spine was the one that spoke.
"Well, people don't usually join up in this club of suicidal, emotional wrecks unless they are suicidal emotion wrecks themselves. It's quite an exclusive membership, don't you know?" I rolled my eyes. "Like I said, what's the story?"
"I'm not an emotional wreck," he noted.
"Then you're suicidal. You look like a guard, so I wouldn't put it past you."
"Lieutenant, actually."
"That so?" I hummed, "And how'd that happen? That sword is not a standard issued one."
"You sure about that?"
"I know my weaponry, thank you very much," I crossed my arms, leaning back in the chair and throwing my feet up on the desk. "Let me guess. Young and hot-blooded and from a well-off family, you decided to seek glory on the battlefield. Your family was more than eager to let you get your brains straight, and your father even gave you shiny new sword. But after a small reality check and a healthy dose of shell shock, you realized that it really isn't that nice out there. So you made a run for it."
He didn't seem too offended. "That is the main thought of it, yes. You've ran into many deserters before?"
"Sure, I see their corpses often enough. Cesare-"
"-isn't forgiving of traitors, yes, I've realized."
I laughed. "What's your name, soldier?"
"Stefano Esercito. And yours, Maestra?"
I let out a low breath. "I will have an issue with that one. Did Ezio put you up to it?"
"He might have."
"The name's Eden. I like that better. How about you?" I turned to the woman.
A small tremor went through her, and she raised her eyes to me. Warm hazel, I noted, but red from tears and exhaustion. "What?"
"What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Ghita. No surname," she swallowed, "Not anymore." She spoke humbly, like I'd heard peasants automatically speak in when addressed by nobles. I winced slightly at that.
"I see. Well, Ghita with no surname, do you want to talk about it or do just want to let everything sink in first?"
She opened her mouth. "I- I'm just so tired…"
"Okay, latter it is. Don't be so tense, I'm only trying to help."
"Men burned everything down," she mumbled, lowering her eyes again and biting her lip. "Nothing left now. It all burned."
Small tremors. Those were too familiar to me.
"Shock," I jumped to my feet. Stefano reacted a split second later, turning to the woman, but then froze, unsure what to do. I came up to the girl and put my hands on her shoulders. "Look at me."
The trembling continued.
"Sweetheart, you'll have to look at me. I'm not a psychologist, or even a doctor, but I can help, alright?"
Her eyes snapped up to mine sharply. "How can you help? They're all dead now. All of them, I'm the only one left. You can't fix that."
That was true, but my soft mumbling got a reaction, and that was enough for now.
"Must have been a hell of a trauma," I looked into her eyes. She was focused on me, though, her rage and grief all mixed up into confusion. "Oh, good God," I murmured.
Without really thinking, I drew her to me, holding her in a tight hug. She flailed slightly, from either confusion or anger, but then stilled. Without warning, she started to sob into my shoulder, her hands twisting in my shirt. That chain of reaction was once again familiar to the point of hurt.
Stefano looked unsure and awkward, looking to me for instruction. Not many men could deal with female tears; he didn't know whether to try and say something to this stranger he only met today, or simply walk away and give her some space.
I took pity on him.
"Get washed up, my heart bleeds looking at you. Down the hall, I think it's either the left door or the right that's the washroom," I thought about it for a moment. "I still get a little confused around here, so you'll have to guess. Clean yourself up, come back here and I'll patch you up and figure the rest of this out."
He nodded with visible relief, and walked out the door.
Ghita was still crying, her shoulders shaking and the sobs barely escaping her throat. Maneuvering, I sat us down onto the cot and let her continue, knowing that words would only make things worse at the moment. She needed to get as much of it out as possible, at least for now. There'd of course be more over the next few months, though the sooner she admitted to how overwhelming it was, the better.
"All of them!" she gasped, the sound raw and raspy as she balled her fists into my back,. "They didn't even blink! Just stormed the place- my parents, brothers and sisters- all of them! How could they do it? How could they just- just-" she lifted her head and slammed it back into my collar bone, and I had to bite back a hiss of pain.
"How did you survive?" I asked as softly as possible.
"Late- I was at the markets, just a few minutes late, or I would have burned too. Grabbed Giovanni's sword. Couldn't think, just red…" I pressed my lips tightly together, unsure how to continue. She kept talking, though. "Just got so angry… they didn't expect it… I don't think many people fight back…" She gave a hysterical laugh, "He came."
"Ezio?"
"I thought… I thought he was another guard… but he helped. Hailed some men to put the fire out, such a good man in the middle of all that…filth."
"He has that effect," I quietly muttered.
"But you. I don't even know you, and I've soaked your shirt- and you let me."
"Well, for assassins, we are a surprisingly decent bunch," I smiled over her head.
"This is a horrible dream," she moaned.
"I really wish it was."
"This can't possibly be real. They can't be dead- they're always there, there is no way they aren't. And you are not real, either-"
"Last time I checked, I was very real," I sighed. "Come on, I'll help you get cleaned up."
"The great assassin order has become psychotherapy for all things broken, apparently," I thought with detachment. After a short moment, I realized that that wasn't my thought, but Altair's. He was around for so long inside my head that these things bled through without any notice.
And that includes me. I replied to him.
"It includes all of us, one way or another."
Ten minutes later, I was sitting beside Stefano on the bed of my office, stitching up his arm with a red, wine-soaked string. Ghita was still present, but in much more decent condition. She was watching absently and without seeing. Just lightly rocking herself back in forth from where she stood against the door, deep in thought.
Under the removed grime and dirt, Stefano had short blond hair that went pleasantly with tanned skin, and bright green eyes with a strong jaw and faint stubble. Ghita, on the other hand, had darker complexion and raven black hair. Her face was a bit on the plump side, though at the moment she looked more hollow than anything else.
"Not the first time, I'm guessing?" I asked Stefano, glancing at the older stitching on his shoulder. I've seen men sow before, and it was always rough and uneven, but Stefano had an almost habitual stitch.
"No, not the first," he smiled through his bit lip. "I was holding one of the platoons by Forli. Quite a bit of battle on the way there and on the way back... Not to mention the siege itself..."
"Don't mention that to Caterina, she might react with violence," I advised him quickly.
"Caterina... Sforza? She's here?" he raised his eyebrows. "I had thought-"
"Ezio got her out of the Castello just last morning, actually," I rolled my shoulders. "She's out at the inn right now, eating, which is fortunate."
"That is… good to hear. I can't say I liked Caterina's ruling, but I never wanted her or her family killed. I didn't like the whole affair, truly, but it wasn't my place to question it."
"But you did anyway?"
"That's why I'm here," he smiled again. "I... saw some things that some never even imagine in their lifetime. And it was all for someone's vanity and thirst for power- I suppose I just couldn't do it anymore."
"So you deserted."
"Yes. Took down a few sentries, and then I was on my way."
"Whatever happened to your sense of honor, then?"
My voice wasn't insulting, but genuinely curious, so he took no offense. "There was hardly any honor in that. We weren't defending the citizens, but slaughtering them, trying to take over states simply because our leader wanted them. None of the other men seemed to mind, though."
"Why come to Roma if you deserted? I would think you'd get the hell out of Italia, not come to the hotbed of the Papal States," I asked.
"Well, you see, my family is still here. I was going to take a few things and do just that, though now I see it was an extremely stupid idea. There isn't any mercy for traitors, and word travels fast. Luckily, Ezio found me before I got into too much trouble," he shrugged, taking the clean bandage from my table and sloppily beginning to work it over his arm. I tapped his hand away, and wrapped it properly.
"Huh. I see." The simple explanation threw me off a bit. I almost forgot that there were still uncomplicated matters in the world.
"So what about you? How did you come to be here?"
"Good old me? You could say it was somewhat of an inheritance," my grin was only a little bit forced, but my wall didn't even tremble. "Labeled and trained since you don't want to know when."
"You don't sound too sorry."
"I'm not anymore. I like my life and profession," I tightened the tie on bandage on his arm, finishing off. "Alright, you're done."
"It seems like it's one hell of a story."
"Maybe I'll even tell it to you one day," I patted his shoulder. "And by the way, if you still need anything from your family home, I guess I can get it for you."
"Are you planning on politely knocking on the door and trying to explain this to my parents, or are you a thief, too?"
I laughed. "How about we simplify my classification, okay? I'm a survivor."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that's for me to know and for you to shut your cakehole and trust me."
Stefano didn't seem very satisfied with that answer. "I'm not going to unquestioningly follow orders this time around, you know."
"Good, you wouldn't be here if that weren't the case. But a little bit of trust would be nice, if we're to pull this off."
"I don't think there is anything I want from that house- it all seemed so important three hours ago, but now it's all..." He trailed off, pausing for a long moment. "I'd like to get a letter to them, though, if you would be so kind."
"Not a problem. I don't want either you or Ghita thinking you're cut off from something just because you are part of this circus now. I'll give you the speech about trust and old ties later, when you don't look like you're about to kneel over from exhaustion."
"It's still somewhat hard to wrap my head around this," he admitted. "Assassins."
"Yeah," I drew out. "Assassins. Just to get the little bit out of the way so there's no misunderstandings later- it's not all fun and assassinating world leaders. There are a few rules."
"Huh."
"I just figure, if you're going to be a part of this, you might as well know all the cards. So, first, no killing innocent people. Clarification on that for further reference: Innocents include everyone who isn't threatening you with a sharp or blunt objects. And if its common thugs that don't like you cheating at dice, try not to kill them. We're not common murderers or serial killers, whatever the public impression is."
"That already makes you better than any of the city guards put together," Ghita suddenly said.
"That we can agree on," I resolutely nodded. "Basically, just keep in mind that while we can, that don't mean we should. Capito?"
They both nodded.
"Also, another little detail. How are either of you on the law?"
Ghita's jaw clenched. Stefano gave a general shrug. "I'm wanted. Too late to be thinking those priorities over."
"Well, I have good news for you then," I grinned. "From now on, you don't have to give a rat's ass for it. Everything is permitted."
"Eden, you're going to give them the wrong impression," Altair muttered disapprovingly. "It is an easy trap to fall into."
"Alright, alright. Let me put it this way, then. The law says a lot of stuff. That we can't steal, kill, cause chaos or disrespect the city guard and the government. With me so far? And all other laws too- civility, morality, religion, you name it. But the thing is, it's either corrupt, or it holds us back, or it's a way of controlling the general public. So disregard all that they say, and do what you think is right."
"But we have to listen to you, right? Follow your orders and such."
"That's the complicated bit," I jerked my shoulder. "A few centuries ago, the recruits were practically brainwashed to obey only the authority of the Order. It's a bit less stern now, but yes, generally, listen to us, at least until you're all grown up. I guess… you'll just have to take it on faith."
"It wasn't quite so severe."
You were raised with swords, separated from your parents, and forced to obey.
"I suppose there was some corruption because of my Master… I'm sorry, it is a difficult thing to come to terms with."
"Is it just the two of you?"
I gave a startled chuckle as the question sounded in real life, "No, no. There's a few more people. We generally try to hold as much of the underground as possible, makes our job a helluva lot easier. Just in this hideout there's my lovely adopted daughter and one very pessimistic politician."
"Daughter?"
"Unofficially," I shrugged. "But the term applies, I think. Don't let it fool you, though, she's been with us for a long time, learned all of the best. Or the worst, depending how you look at it. She's out patrolling right now, on the roofs, you might have seen her eagle when you came in. Kind of hard to miss, he likes to swoop down over the bridge."
"We came through the underground tunnels, so I'm afraid we missed it."
"Well, you'll have plenty of time to see it. I warn you right now, you don't want to try anything funny with the bird, it has a fondness for fingers. And don't try anything with her, either."
"Or you'll do unspeakable things to me?" he suggested.
"Nah, try if you'd like, it's her business," I smiled. "Simple warning, that's all. She's not fond of strangers. And she's been a bit on the off side lately."
"Noted. And this politician?"
I chewed on my lip, searching for some sort of classification. "I have no idea how he'd react to this. Ezio might have already spoken to him, though. He usually keeps to himself, so just don't badger him too much and we will all get along."
"So you and Ezio, you're married."
"That's right."
"So no taboos or anything, about relationships."
"Why, do you have a bride somewhere?" I asked lightly.
He shook his head with a chuckle. "The way my parents would have it, I should have been married long ago and bringing little heirs into their lives. I disappointed them by choosing the military instead."
"We'd be hypocrites if we said anything against it, really. Huh, I just realized, I'm making the rules now. There's a funny thought." I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Is Ezio the highest ranking member?" Ghita suddenly asked me.
"Lots of questions today, though I don't blame you. Ezio is- yes, I suppose he's the 'Grandmaster' now. Though there is still the Council, which we're not a part of, but that's mostly because they almost never meet now. There are countless underground bases all over the Known World, everyone working within their own reach."
"One more question then," Stefano nodded, "Why are you telling us all this? I mean, you hardly know us, we could have been spies for the Borgia, and you're laying everything out up front."
"I have my eyes on you." I tapped my temple with a mysterious grin, "And Ezio's eyes are better than mine. If he brought you in, I trust you."
"So what's your rank, then?"
"My rank?"
Now there was another funny thought. I knew I was far higher than a simple pawn, as Niccolo commented once that we didn't have pawns, unlike the other side. So what did that make me?
Altair gave a phantom shrug. We didn't follow a rank system like they did, he had no idea where I stood now.
"Let's just put it this way. I don't like or need 'political' power within this Order, but I can put you on the ground in two seconds max. And considering Ezio is my husband and partner, we try not to think too hard on who is superior. That never adds up to a happy marriage."
"So what you are saying is that there are no ranks."
"Basically. Well, not really. This isn't the military, it's one big happy family- oh, wait a moment. Dammit, I'm getting confused," I rubbed my head. "Look, you got questions on that, take 'em up with Niccolo. He's the one with the rules, I'm the one with the bandages and cool cloaks."
"Oh, we get cool cloaks, too? This is the best decision of my life!" Stefano made over exaggerated show of excitement.
"Now you're getting it!"
Ghita abruptly stood up, and walked out the door, slamming it on the way out. We stared after her, and then Stef gave out a small, embarrassed cough. I just rolled my shoulders, unapologizing.
"Better loud anger than quiet grief," I thought out loud.
"Should I-?"
"Because grief slowly eats away at you, while anger is easier and faster to vent," I finished. "Let her calm down a little bit, maybe hit something, she'll feel better for it."
"Not really my place to pry, but you seem like you're speaking from experience."
"We all have our sob stories." I grimaced. I didn't like to talk about it, especially now, when it was just scratching at scars. "Besides, I'm not her mother, sister or even friend yet. We are about the last people she wants to hear from right now."
"She has a sword," he waved at the door.
I thought on that for a moment. "Ah, hell."
Things turned out much better than that. Ghita didn't storm off to stab a couch. Actually she calmed down rather quickly, and came back to apologize with a tight face, but a sincere voice. She was just a girl who wasn't equipped to deal with the storm of emotion that was going through her head, but she was quick enough to gather her wits.
There were no extra beds in the hideout, so instead, I walked them to the inn. After a short discussion with the barkeep about how quiet the island was and just who to thank for that, things were settled and kids were sent off to beds.
"You know," Ezio's voice sounded above my ear, and I instinctively pressed my back into his chest. The window of the inn I was staring through was beginning to get boring, and my thumb was already raw from my thoughtful chewing. "After ten years of living with you, and I keep thinking that one day I'll be able to read your mind."
"How's that going for you?"
I could feel the comforting rumble of his laughter in his chest, my back still to him. "Not very well. So tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking that green is a horrible fashion trend this summer. Those women blend in with the grass, it's kind of disturbing. Then again, the idea does have some potential on the camouflage front…"
"I can, however, tell when you're lying," he laughed into my hair.
I didn't respond for a moment, and then shrugged. "This is a stupid idea. Niccolo said we have no pawns in this Brotherhood, yet it seems like you're recruiting some."
"You and Niccola agreeing on something?" his voice steadied, "I am stunned, Eden. Pehaps the apocalypse is coming after all-"
"I'm serious, Ezio-"
"They won't be pawns," he quickly said, a sure hand dropping to my shoulder. They were admittedly stiff with doubt, so he dropped his other hand on my other one, beginning to rub away the tension. "We will train them carefully and use them wisely."
"If it was anyone else, I wouldn't believe one word," I sighed. Shifting and slumping forward, I granted him better access as his hands traveled downward a bit.
"I'll take that as a yes," he replied. "I recruited them because our numbers are too few, but we still can't simply fling them left and right."
"Good to hear," I grinned in spite of myself. "You know, for a moment, I actually wondered if you were getting me a puppy to take care of. I didn't exactly expect another batch of strays to join this family."
"This isn't about you."
"Yes, it's about… what is it all about, actually?" I craned my neck around, catching his gaze, "I'm starting to wonder."
There was a slightly shocked silence, his hands at my back freezing. "What do you mean?"
"Templars, Cesare, French armies, recruits… we're retired. We shouldn't even be here. It just seems… " pointless, doomed, why-are-we-even-bothering-anymore-let-someone-else-save-the-world-for-a-change, "Endless."
"And you used to be so eager to charge headfirst into battle."
"I still am. But how many times are we going to cut the vines without ever getting out the root?"
He hummed in my ear, "Tell you what, when this is all over, we'll leave and go anywhere you'd like."
I smiled, closing my eyes. "We can't leave a forwarding address, either, or you know someone will - god forbid- try to get us to save the world again."
"How does Sicily sound? Or maybe we can take a boat from and go southeast until we reach Alexandria."
"I don't think I'd like the sea," I chuckled, "Or the sand. I hear it gets everywhere, especially to places its not supposed to be."
I sighed turning in his arms and hugging him around the middle, with my head on his shoulder. "It's a nice sentiment, but I don't think we're going anywhere any time soon."
"Mm." The sound was purely neutral. "Forgive me, bella."
"For what?"
"These two will be in your care for the next little while, at least until we're sure they can pull their own weight."
That took a moment to sink in.
"What does that imply, exactly?" I asked carefully.
"Relax. I simply want you to make sure that they have beds, food, clothing, equipment."
"The inn will provide the first two, but I'll have to take the kids shopping tomorrow for the rest. We'll have to get Adel on raiding for weapons, though, we simply don't have the money to keep something like this above water."
"Adel hates burglary."
"And I hate shopping. My point being, tough."
"So you'll do it?"
"Of course I will!" I smacked him lightly on the head, "Can't exactly say no to wayward orphans, now, can I?"
"Speaking of which, what are your impressions?"
"Stef is holding onto some sort of transparent moral code and Ghita is only a girl who had nowhere else to go when you picked her up. She might not stay. And even if she does, I have no idea how this will play out."
"She could be like you."
"Or she could be worse. Or better. We don't know, not while she's in her current state."
"In any case, get them settled."
"I'm in charge now," I muttered absently. "How the hell did that happen? It used to be 'Here's a target, now be a good girl and kill him.' Now I'll be the one giving those orders, and that's just weird."
"Think you can handle it?"
"Oh, caro, I've lived the last ten years tied to you while raising our darling Adelaide. Do you honestly think there is something left in this world that I can't handle?"
Shopping..dang it to hell!
Well, I suppose I asked for it.
As soon as I set my foot out the hideout, I realized that I was completely lost without even the tiniest sense of where to go first.
"Is something wrong?" Stefano asked me, coming out from the inn door and quickly stuffing a few florins into his pockets. I caught the shouting of a noisy dice game just before he closed it. Then again, I didn't expect him to do much of anything of any importance. Not with his litany of bruises and that injured arm.
"No, everything is just peachy," I waved him off, still in thought, "Except it seems that I need to enlist a bit of help…give me a moment." I didn't miss that he and Ghita exchanged looks, she now scampering through the door as well.
Moving away from the two recruits, I folded my hands around my mouth and let out a loud, irritating bird call. Sokolo lazily replied to my sad attempts, and spiraled downwards to the roofs somewhere.
A few minutes later, Adel gracefully landed onto the street beside me.
"You called?"
"Yes I did. Do you know where the markets are?"
"You hate shopping," she noted with confusion, her gaze darting to the two recruits behind. However, her expression remained placid. I assume she'd ask me about them later, back in the hideout.
"Well, don't have a choice here. Speaking of which, we have recruits."
"We have what?" Now the confusion was extremely clear on her face, her frown disbelieving.
"Ezio's idea. You will- well, you probably won't like them."
"So you want me to go shopping with them?" her voice was cool, her pale cheeks reddening slightly with anger.
"No. I want you to tell me where there's a tailor open in this city, and then you can go right back to your workaholic habits."
"I'm coming with you," she suddenly cut me off, shooting a glance over my shoulder to the other two again..
"Erm, you don't look too happy about that, so why?"
"I don't like or trust them," she looked down her nose at me as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I want to keep an eye on them." Well, points to her for honesty. I wanted to make a remark on my own ability to keep an eye on a soldier and a farm girl, but then I quickly decided that a break would be good for her.
"Alright, then…Stef, Ghita," I called over to them, gesturing them to follow, "This is my darling dearest Adelaide. Adel, this is Stefano and Ghita, we'll be training them from now on." Adel looked ready to scowl, but I bumped her with my elbow. "Let's all play nice, si? At least in public. Teamwork and all that jazz."
Adel gave me a pointed glare, but then composed her face into a neutral expression. Ghita barely nodded in acknowledgement, only a tiny hint of interest in her tired eyes. I briefly wondered if she got any sleep at all that night. Hardly- she looked even worse for wear than she did the day , on the other hand, seemed more that enthusiastic about meeting her, despite her silent attitude. That was a regular occurrence with the male population, though they usually became discouraged a few minutes later.
Ghita suddenly touched my arm, and I turned towards her. "I was just thinking," she quietly started, " I still don't know what's going to happen to us with you?"
"Didn't I go over that?" I scratched the back of my head, "Shopping. Clean clothing, equipment, all that."
"I mean, more long-term," she bit her lip, quickly breaking any contact she had with my arm and taking a step back, "What's going to happen? I don't know what to expect any more."
"Would you like me to read your palm while I get out my crystal ball?" I gave a slightly surprised chuckle. She didn't look amused, still staring at me expectantly. I sighed, and waved to them, beginning to walk. "I don't know."
"But you must know. You brought us here, you are taking care of us. It has to be for something." By "you" I assumed she just meant the Order in general, because I personally had nothing to do with her presence in the hideout.
"Sure, it was the goodness of Ezio's heart along with our desperate need of people," I honestly replied. "But as for what he plans, I honestly have no idea. I'm just trying to make you look more battle-worthy."
"That might take a bit more effort," Adel muttered under her breath. Despite the mean edge to the comment, she had a point. Stef looked a bit too much like a drunk with a sword, and Ghita looked exactly what she was before- a peasant girl of eighteen.
"Please, at least give me something," Ghita pleaded, and I suddenly understood.
Besides her grief, she was confused. Her life changed, she was in unfamiliar waters, with no idea how to swim and no straws in sight. She needed some sort of certainty, anything that would clear up the fog a little bit. Something she could focus on.
"For one thing, I'm going to kill Stef," I decided.
"I might have a few words to say about that," the soldier tensed slightly.
"I have a bounty hunter in mind that wouldn't object to turning in the good news of your demise. All we need is a head with pretty blond hair, tragically ruined beyond recognition, and your name will be wiped from all records on the account of treachery."
It took him a few moments to realize what I was talking about. "You mean you'll sweep my history clean."
"Yep. It's enough that Ezio and I see our portraits on every corner, we don't want anyone coming after you. Or whatever family you have left, though I suspect their standing and feverish claims of an unruly and rebellious child will protect them well enough." I paused. "That is why you didn't want to go home, right?"
"Not- well, yes," he nodded, but it looked as though he was agreeing just to prevent further questioning on the subject.
"And as for you, my dear," I looked back to Ghita. "You're going to be assumed dead by anyone who knew you."
"No one will miss me," she nodded slightly, looking sad. "I'm just a middle daughter of a commoner. They will think I burned with my family."
Adel turned her head sharply, but then remembered herself and relaxed. She didn't like the subject of burning, or even the mention of fire, always working hard to not let it show.
"The markets are that way," she gestured to the right, onto the branching streets where the crowds were thickening.
"I think we need heavier artillery for this mission," I snorted, "We're heading to the Rosa."