A/N- Something that I've noticed in the game- Machiavelli was born in 1469, which would make him about 17 when he meets Ezio, and that doesn't seem right at all. So just play along here.
Rodrigo Borgia liked to consider himself as a patient man. Working with the likes of the Pope and the Templars, who saw not the individual, but the grand scheme in one's place in history demanded it. By now, anyone else would have broken down or given up.
Completely killing and dismembering the messenger for the bad news would do nothing to fix it. So, he simply just took a breath, focused, and only nearly beat the man within an inch of his pathetic life. But bringing a little (or a lot) of bodily harm on the messenger with the twitch of his hand alleviated his displeasure a small bit. When his men finally dragged away the pathetic, whining bundle of blood out of his sight, he stormed back into his quarters, teeth clenched as he slammed the doors after himself.
"Those god-damned idiots!" he finally let out an angry roar to his trembling secretary. "I've underestimated them – that Assasin's whore of a woman had the bloody will to kill herself just so she wouldn't end up in our hands...cazzo!"
"P-perhaps it shows how much she…feared…us, Messere?"
The secretary had barely a few seconds to dodge the heavy, jewel encrusted golden goblet that went flying at his head from Rodrigo's hand. Thankfully, the man was used to such outbursts. Or his head would've ended up a bloody mess against the wall. Rodrigo's rage didn't last for long, however. Closing his eyes and rubbing his temples, he took a few, long deep breathes. Calming down quickly enough, Rodrigo sat down in one of his armchairs heavily.
Eden Cleare was almost in his grasp. The seemingly weaker of the two, he could have easily used her to manipulate the irritating assassin. After all, the boy still let his emotions take over his judgment. The longer they waited, the less chance they'd have to get rid of him. Man after man, Templar after Templar...the two rid Venice of nearly all of the Order. Scraps and pieces remained, but it was hardly enough to mount a full assault against them.
But it wouldn't matter. Once the Apple was in his hands, he could turn all of it around. The only proverbial light at the end of the tunnel was in that prospect. As well as taking it from under the Assassins' noses...
-16 months later-
Milan was a beautiful and busy city, considered one of the fashion centrals of Italia. The city itself was a circular shape, broken down into just over twenty districts, arranged distinctly like a wheel. The center was laid with many magnificent palazzos, high towers and newly constructed buildings that were the height of Renaissance architecture. What was planned to be one of the grandest cathedrals in Europe was in the process of construction, and already many artists and sculptors gathered, beginning to bring the inside to life. Ludovico Sforza was very determined to complete a large part of it, though I knew from the future that it would take many years to actually finish it.
Just a few years ago, the previous Duke had been assassinated. Ludvico's brother, Galeazzo Sforza was remembered by most people of the city as a fairly good leader of Milan. He was also Caterina Sforza's father, though her mother was one of his long-term mistresses, and ironically, the wife of one his good friends in court. But sadly, Galeazzo also possessed a well-documented sadistic and cruel side. Torture, rape, painful and humiliating executions were all part of his reputation, which gathered him quite a few enemies.
So no one was terribly surprised when Galeazzo was assassinated on Christmas Day in 1476 in a wide-reaching conspiracy. Orchestrated by Lampugnani, he was supported by a few of other men that held grudges against the Duke for land disputes, revenge, or idealism. The conspiracy was executed successfully, and all of the assassins, save for their leader, escaped. There were also rumors of a white-hooded man that was present who assisted the guard. However, he mysteriously disappeared from the scene of the crime before anyone could identify him and his intentions. When Leonardo heard the rumor, he immediately thought of Ezio. But then he remembered that when they first met, the boy was definitely not the same as he was after his family was killed, and was in no way an assassin.
After Galeazzo, his son, Gian, became the Duke, under the guidance of his uncle, Ludovico Sforza. As the boy was very young when his father was murdered, Ludovico became the unofficial ruler, seizing all power. Thankfully, he was a realistic man, and focused not on the appearance of power, but the productivity, industry, and order of Milano. And last but not least, he was Leonardo da'Vinci's patron.
"Create a monument, he says..." the said artist grumbled under his breath as he attempted time and time again to get the right pose at least on paper before he moved onto clay. He decided three times over in the past five minutes that he'd have to find an actual horse and sketch it out before he'd be able to do anything productive. But... "We want a painting, Leonardo! Oh, paint my mistress for me, for I wish her beauty immortalized before I move on to another girl!" he continued to mimic the different patrons that landed him commissions. "Of course they all want a painting of their mistresses... or wives...Ugh."
And with that strange noise, he nearly slammed his forehead onto the table, weakly trying to resist the temptation of repeating the gesture until he was passed out.
Finally, he pushed away the barely started sketches, and leaned back in his chair, stretching. Glanced outside the window. Rubbed his chin, and thought it was time for a shave. And then nearly slumped back onto the table again.
Eden was right - he was going to crack right down the middle if he continued doing this. "This" being the fact that he barely ever left his workshop, only getting properly dressed when meeting patrons, and getting food through his assistant, who barely ever even came into the workshop. And while Leonardo didn't regret his decision to move to Milan temporarily, he was slowly becoming overwhelmed. And very lonely. In Venice, either Ezio or Eden, sometimes Antonio, and rarely, even Rosa, dropped in every now and again to check up of him, deliver news of the outside world, or simply hover over his shoulder and watch him work. In any way, it was familiar contact with friends that he missed in the months he spent in Milan.
The only word from them was a letter that once arrived to his doorstep that said that everything was fine, Adel was safe, Eden faked her own death, the Templars were finally out of Venezia, and everything was just happiness and sunshine on their end. He tried to write back, while the messenger was still around, but suddenly couldn't think of anything to tell them of, as nothing except for the never ending commissions and court drama was happening. Finally, he settled for saying that he was okay, glad to hear that everything was good, and that so far no one had died for real. And after that, there were no more news.
The persistent tapping of the rain was getting annoying. It was fall, and autumn in Milan was fairly humid, as it was even farther north than Venice. Leonardo was used to the occasional leaks in the attic. The rain didn't do anything to improve his mood, however, and he decided that he was not going to get any work done. Which was just as well - he only just now realized how dark it was outside.
He stood up from his chair, ready to blow out the candle and head upstairs to bed, when there was a knock. A very unusual occurrence in his workshop, as many of his patrons didn't knock. They banged on the door loudly enough to make all the furniture in the main room jump, and the ones that were capable of knocking quietly preferred him to come to them, instead. Unsure who would actually come calling this late at night, he gingerly waited, thinking he was just tired and he was just hearing things. Or, more like hoped that that was the case. But the knock repeated, this time a little more urgent, and he finally crossed the room to open the door.
Immediately, he jumped slightly back as an arc of lightning chose that exact moment to strike, the slightly menacing black figure in the doorway looking like something out of a nightmare. The startled artist had half a mind of slamming the door shut again when the figure suddenly raised its arms, dripping slightly, and a familiar voice greeted him.
"Well, hello."
"Eden!" he realized with a shock, but quickly remembered that it was pouring rain outside, and pulled her through the door, giving her a friendly hug. After her, another figure walked in, though it was a lot shorter.
"Hey Leo!" Adel greeted him cheerfully, smiling broadly. She was bundled into a black leather jacket that Leonardo recognized as Eden's from all that time ago. The girl herself looked a whole lot older after the year he hasn't seen her for- she was definitely taller, and her face slightly more matured. Her golden hair had grown out, and was pulled back into a simple braid.
"Sorry to visit you so late," Eden smiled, throwing back the hood of her cloak, which was now white instead of the usual black. She didn't change too much except for the fact that her hair was pulled into a tight braid that she likely wore for traveling. "But I saw the light in your window and thought you'd still be up."
"It's so good to see you both! What brings you to Milan?" Leonardo asked, smiling radiantly as he gestured for them to take a seat at the table.
"Hmm. Business," she rolled her eyes, taking off her slightly damp cloak and sitting down. "You know, received a letter from Mario, who got something stuck on his behind, and suddenly it's all 'Come here, now! Important business, bing, bada boom!' and all that."
Definitely didn't change at all, Leonardo thought with a grin.
"Then Ezio is here, too?"
Something flickered in her eyes. "Ah, no. Ezio is still in Venice, waiting for the Black Galley. He thought it would be best if he was present when it arrived."
"And Adel?" He glanced at the girl.
"I thought she'd want to explore Italy a bit more. Besides, she just missed you so much, I'd feel very bad for leaving her behind..." she smirked cockily. Adel reddened slightly, crossing her arms in a childish pout.
"Eden!"
"You should have heard her! 'When is Leo coming back? Did he write back yet? Can we go see him?'" the woman continued to embarrass her student further, and Leonardo concealed an amused laugh by coughing. Adel turned away from them in a sulky manner. Eden finally sobered, and spoke normally. "Anyway, here we are. I'm supposed to meet a Mario around here in a few days, and-"
"Say no more, you can stay here!" Leonardo cut in reassuringly, and she smiled again, seemingly relieved.
"Awesome. I promise we won't get in the way of your work."
"That won't be a problem, as it seems I have a hard time concentrating anyway."
"You've been holing yourself up again, haven't you?" she grumbled maternally. He hung his head guiltily. "Really, I can understand being in love with your work, but can't you sketch outside somewhere? I'm sure you can look at birds on the roofs just as well as you can in this dusty place." She swept the room with her eyes, though she was visibly impressed. His workshop was a bit bigger than it was in either Florence or Venice.
Suddenly, he yawned widely, and she stood up again. "Anyway, I can see you're already barely on your feet. We can catch up in the morning. I'll be back in a moment."
"Where are you going? It's pouring rain!" Leonardo protested quickly as she made a move towards the front door.
"Just to take a quick look around. Lock the door and open the window to the spare bedroom," She shrugged, and pulled her hood back on. He was about to say something, but then just sighed, and let her go, locking the door behind her as instructed.
"Come on, I'll show you to the room," he called for Adel, and she hopped off her chair, following him upstairs. He absently wondered about Eden's appearance in Milan. After all, it was strange for her to leave Ezio's side, especially since the two were courting as a couple (finally). But then again, he was just happy to have some company, and didn't think too much on it.
He left the window open as she said, and went to bed, though when he fell asleep a half and hour later, she was still not back. Or maybe he just didn't hear her...
Whereas I would have stayed in bed until late morning if I had Ezio at my side, I stretched until I felt my bones crack, up and fully awake sharply at dawn. I left the room quietly enough not to wake either Adel or Leonardo, and headed down into the kitchen. Feeling slightly anxious, I busied myself with making breakfast; bacon and eggs, which remained the only meal I could make without burning down the entire house.
The sun was rising slowly, and I focused on the flickering of the fire to keep my mind from wandering.
The past sixteen months were very quiet. Almost too quiet for my taste, as I was used to always be on the move, doing something. Is was slightly torn, of course - the peace and quiet was so rare that I knew I'd miss it the moment it was gone. But I didn't like the prospect of getting used to something that vaguely resembled a normal life. I think Ezio was trying hard to get me into it, though I didn't like his methods too much...
"Buongiorno," Leonardo greeted me from the door, as he stood there for a few moments, sniffing. I smiled at him, transferring the contents of the pan onto a slightly cracked plate. "You really shouldn't have-"
"Leo, I don't totally get all this Italian etiquette, but I like to think we moved past it," I interrupted. I still found it strange how even Antonio wouldn't let me help out in the kitchens of his palace at the Seta. Something about being a guest. I didn't think he'd ever tasted my cooking before, so that couldn't be the reason.
"Hm. Alright, if you say so," he easily agreed, sitting down at the table as I cut the eggs apart and put some in front of him. Taking a seat opposite of him, I began to eat myself.
"Besides, when was the last time someone made you a proper breakfast?" I asked.
"A while."
Adel came down at that moment, already dressed and brushed. Over the months I've mostly enforced the rule that she had to take care of herself, as a starting point. We allowed her to make and learn from her own mistakes. For example, if she felt tired when waking up, she would adjust her sleeping patterns by herself, and divide her days however she'd like, as long as it fit the two hour long sessions with us. She agreed easily, considering that was the only way I'd even think about any further training. Independence was something that came fairly naturally to her, despite being raised by nobles.
Overall, I suppose you can say I finally agreed to teaching her. We didn't talk about the assassin part yet, but I think she expected it. I put no pressure on the fact, hoping she'd back out sooner or later. So I taught her harmless things that in my opinion should be common knowledge. She surprised me with her diligence, soaking up everything either of us taught her like a sponge. Of course, there were a few ups and downs, but the fact remained that she was a talented girl.
"Eden, what are we doing today?" she asked me eagerly, perching on her chair.
I thought about it for a moment, then smiled. I'd grown used to the role of teacher, sometimes even looking forward to our sessions. "I think you're ready to start something new today."
"What kind of things do you do?" Leonardo asked with curiosity.
"Lots of things - running, climbing, dance, language, " I listed thoughtfully, waving my fork in the air along with my words. "We stray sometimes, do exercises, do something different."
"Like when you made me stand still for two hours straight?" Adel humphed, still not impressed by those two hours.
"You need to learn patience somehow," I shrugged. "Don't worry, today will be a bit more interesting. We have a few days to ourselves, then I have to meet up with Mario."
"What am I going to do then?"
"Stay with Leonardo and not cause any trouble?" I raised an eyebrow and then addressed the artist. "You don't mind babysitting again, do you?"
He seemed slightly hesitant, but shook his head. "Not at all."
"Good. Oh! Ezio asked me to pass along a codex page," I suddenly remembered, "It's in my bag upstairs, he found it in one of the Templar-run banks, as well as the one Silvio had on him."
At the name, Adel visibly shuddered, but tried her best to hide in. Her run in with the man left its own marks on her. Meanwhile Leonardo's eyes lit up, "How exciting! Actually, I've been meaning to ask; is there anyway I can study all of the ones that you've gathered so far? I have a theory..."
"Um. Well, most of them are in Monteriggioni, in the Auditore villa. If you're ever around, I'm sure Mario would like to meet the man who translated them for him. Though Claudia is mostly running the place now, considering everyone is always traveling."
"Claudia? Ezio's sister? How is she? And I hope Maria is doing better, as well?"
"Ah." I cast my eyes downwards. The woman, it seemed, had not moved from her rooms since we first arrived at Monteriggioni upon fleeing Florence after the execution of her husband and sons. Her skin was pale and showing much more age than it did years ago. She reminded me of an eerily life-like wax sculpture. Every time we returned to Monteriggioni to check on the status of its renovation, she definitely threw Ezio back into a short spell of depression. "She's still in shock, if you can even call it that," I said aloud to Leonardo, "No reaction to her children…or anyone else, whatsoever."
"I am sorry to hear that," his voice became more serious, as well. "But I've never heard of shock having such traumatic effects for so long."
"I haven't either," I shook my head. "Usually, they either move on, or...well, die. Maybe if I had my resources or connections, I could figure something out to help her. But," I sighed, "Ezio keeps bringing her those white feathers…he had an entire collection of them by the time we visited. I'm not sure what he's trying to do anymore. She doesn't even look at him when he comes to visit her. Mario told him off for it, though. I don't know what he's expecting, but those feathers aren't doing anything."
"What does Ezio say?"
"To have faith," I said somewhat bitterly. "He's strange like that." Leonardo must have noticed that I meant that in more ways than one, and sent me a questioning glance. I just smiled passing over the subject at the same time as I glanced at Adel. He understood the hint, and let it go.
That day, I called Adel out to the back of the workshop, and gave her a somewhat simple task- she needed to get some birds for Leonardo. He often bought caged little songbirds in the market, only to quickly sketch them and let them go. But catching them required patience and thought, so I left the girl to it, and went inside to see if I could help Leonardo out with anything.
To my surprise, by the end of the day, Adel managed to catch one little bird by nightfall, handing it to Leonardo in a grand gesture with a huge smile on her face. He blinked with surprise as he stared at the cage, then to Adel, and then to me while I laughed quietly at her excitement, and his confusion. Finally, he smiled, thanked Adel, and set to work on the sketching and releasing.
The day passed quickly, but night found me sitting in an armchair that I dragged over to Leonardo's desk, the hours dragging along unwillingly. I was nodding off slightly in front of the most recent sketched work of Leonardo's for his commissions, blinking harshly to keep myself awake. I didn't want to sleep, I didn't want to think about anything; I just wanted to focus on decoding the famous artist's writing. Yet the flickering light was strangely calming, as if trying to convince me to just lay down my head and rest my eyes for a bit...
"You should get some sleep." I jerked up, squinting slightly. Leonardo stood in the doorway with a mug of something hot, judging by the steam. He looked at me with some worry, as if trying to see just how far along the tracks of insanity I wandered. I shrugged.
"That's fine. Sleep isn't that important, anyway."
"What's been bothering you?" he asked, sitting on the other side of the table. I sighed, slouching in my seat.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Well, no offense, but by the sound of it, Mario is only part of your decision to visit Milano."
"And why is that?"
"Is there someone after you?"
"Nope...not anymore. Everyone thinks I'm dead. It's very convenient, by the way."
"Then what's going on?"
"Venture another guess. I'll give you a hint. It starts with "E" and ends with "o", with only two other letters in the middle."
Pause.
"Did something happen between you and Ezio?"
"Bingo. Give the man a prize," I lifted my arms and gave two unenthusiastic claps, and immediately let my forehead fall onto the table.
"You two didn't separate, did you? After all that time-" he sounded worried for a moment.
"We didn't break up. Or - I don't think we did, anyway," I stopped him, moaning quietly into my arms.
"Then what happened? Did you have a fight? Did he cheat on you? Did you cheat on him? Did the assassins tell you that you two couldn't be together anymore?"
"Uh…no, don't be silly!" I shook my head, still not lifting it.
"Then...what?"
"He proposed."
There was a stunned silence during which I felt like crawling under the table, curling up in a fetal position and whimpering. The very word "proposed" seemed to make my spine shoot straight, and my head hurt.
"But-but that's wonderful!" I looked up at him, his face shining with sincere excitement that made me feel even worse. Seeing the doomed, desperate and pathetic look on my face, he must have sensed something was wrong. "You didn't say no, did you?"
"Mm. I didn't."
"Then you said yes!"
"... not exactly."
"...I'm confused."
"Ditto."
"What did you do?"
"I really have no idea," I grumbled quietly, "I think he sort of made his own assumptions when I didn't answer."
"And?"
"And...nothing. I left for Milan the next day, and we never actually talked it through."
We sat in silence. I felt an itching need for alcohol, feeling even more depressed and guilty as I talked about what went down.
After a moment, Leonardo finally broke the quiet. "So what are you going to do?"
I let out a heavy breath, thumping my forehead back onto the table. "I don't know. It was just really sudden - I never expected him to…propose, of all things! Everything was perfectly fine between us, and there was no pressure, no hurry to go any farther...actually, I didn't even know there was a "farther"!"
"So you don't want to marry him?" Leonardo listened to my short rant with growing confusion.
"I…I don't know...it just seems like it's all for the wrong reasons."
"What do you mean?"
"It's only been a year since everything calmed down. And the entire time, he's been obsessing over the Templars' plans. Understandable, of course, but I felt a little neglected."
"So you think he's proposing only to make up for it?" he furrowed his eyebrows.
"Well...not exactly...I mean, it's also the fact that he thought I was dead, or that he thinks I'm still not over my dead boyfriend, or that either of us could die at any point..." It felt better saying it out loud finally, and to an understanding friend. "And if we do get married - what then? I can't really give him any of the normal stuff that he might want, and our job sort of makes it hard to settle, so…yeah. And what if he thinks that I'll put away my weapons and sit quietly in some house somewhere, waiting for him to come home?"
"I'm sure he doesn't think that," Leonardo calmed me down gently. "Eden, talk to him about this, I'm sure he'll explain his thoughts better than I can. But believe me - from what I know of Ezio, he would not make such an offer lightly."
"Even to Caterina?" I mimicked the name in a high pitched voice. "Who, by the way, has got to be at least twenty times better looking and more fragile than me. And she's definitely more likely to wash his socks for him. Not to mention, she's a frickin' duchess of her own city. I'm not naïve about this period in time, Leo. People married for status, to better their family name-"
"You'd be surprised," he suddenly chuckled. "Maybe it's true that Ezio wanted to marry her at one time. But he was a seventeen year old kid, still living as a noble, his family all still intac,t and his worldview a lot more innocent than it is now. He has changed a lot since then."
"That... true..." Both of us had changed, I thought to myself. "But still, I hardly think that getting married is the best way to go here. Things were going perfect…we don't need to do this..."
"You keep saying that, but to the wrong person," he reminded me and I stopped mid sentence. "When you come back to Venezia, talk to him. Hopefully that will give you some insight."
"To tell the truth, somehow, I don't think talking will fix anything."
A long silence passed between us as I tried to come up with some sort of solution to the situation, but my tired mind wouldn't give. I just wanted to close my eyes and fall into oblivion, but fear, once again, would allow me to.
Leonardo noticed the way my head kept dropping slightly only for me to lift it again and shake. "Now can you tell me why you don't want to sleep?"
~Blood, blood, blood. Dripping everywhere. On the walls, pooling across the floor. Slashed on the ceiling. There's a lot of blood, too. I painted it with my hands, and there was plenty of it on those.
Circles, squares. Lines and squiqqles...the walls used to be white...
Gunshot.
Screaming.
More blood.
"Cleare, I don't give a damn. Kill the brat now, and the mess that's her mom, too. The bastard needs to be taught a lesson."
And what can I do in response to the cold voice that leaked threats and death?
I killed.
And painted~
I sat up sharply, gasping for air. My breathing was erratic and shallow, my hands searching for the comforting warmth that Ezio always brought me. It took me nearly an entire minute to figure out that I was sitting on the floor in a tangle of my blanket, and Ezio was far away. Looking down at my hands, I almost expected to see stains on them. I couldn't help but let out a shaking breath of relief when I saw that the skin was clean. Bumping into the frame of the bed with forehead and trying to get myself under control again, I swallowed back the fear.
Worse! The nightmares were getting worse! They started a long time ago, as if my past decided that it did not want to stay behind. Everything was jumbled, but more often than not, I saw red, and I heard voices.
Who was I kidding? I needed Ezio.. when he held me tightly to him, gently shushing and kissing away my fear, I forgot everything within moments. But without him...it was like living in New York again.
Alone.
Early in the morning, Leonardo woke up to find Adel doing something very strange in the main room of the workshop. She was crawling around the floor on her hands and knees, wearing a blindfold around her eyes, her hands searching for something. He stood in the doorway for a moment in shock.
"You know, the process would go a lot faster if you could see," he noted, and her head whipped around in his direction, the movement followed by a pained sound as Adel hit her forehead on the table she was currently under. "What are you doing, anyway, piccola?"
"It's this thing Eden taught me a few months ago." She dropped her hand from her head, and continued to search for something. He noted that her hands were thoroughly moving over the outlines of objects, and then moving farther. "I have to find something that she hid in here."
"With a blindfold on?"
"Eyes often lie," she quoted, "Something about intuition, as well."
"Um, if you say so." Leonardo was slightly confused. "So you do this often?"
"Mmhm. The first few times, I couldn't find it for hours. But now...aha!" she exclaimed with triumph as she lifted a large nut from somewhere behind his work station, and pulled off the blindfold. How on earth she found that thing in the room that was cluttered with broken models, projects, easels, panels, canvas, paints,and paper, he'd never know.
"What else do you do with her?"
"Lots of stuff. Writing and math. English for some reason. And running, lots of it. I think she said we will try climbing soon, as well."
"Where is she, anyway? Shouldn't she supervise this?" He realized that Eden was nowhere in sight or earshot.
"I'm not a child," she pouted in contradiction to her statement, "And she went for a walk really early in the morning."
"Did she?" he glanced at the door, thoughtfully chewing on his lip. He was beginning to worry about her, having seen her deny the fact that she was indeed human and needed sleep. When he finally convinced her to go to bed, he was woken up by a short, muffled groan and then whimpering that was very uncharacteristic of her. He decided he'd have a talk with Ezio, who knew her better than him, and perhaps figure out what was bothering her so much. Otherwise, she'd be the one cracking down the middle.
I surveyed Milan from underneath the low edge of my hood. As far as I knew, it wasn't much different from Venice. Well, aside from the lack of canals that took place of streets, the much more expensive looking clothes of its inhabitants, and the slightly different architecture. But life here was just like anywhere else - busy, boiling, moving. I went unnoticed as I moved through the streets. After all, what's another mysterious figure? Milan saw plenty of those everyday.
I passed by some alley where two young thieves were getting excited over a stolen pouch, and then past a merchant selling silks, and another with ceramics and porcelain. Two women were arguing heatedly with a man who was trying to sell them fabric of an unpleasant gray-green tone, and a little boy was running towards his father, carrying a heavy looking bag. It was exhilarating and slightly unnerving to be back in society. When I was in Venice, I was always distracted by something - Ezio, Templars, thieves, assassinations. But now I was walking with the pure purpose of exploration. I found my senses attuning to everything, my head buzzing with all the different conversations, the rich sound of the water in the river, the creaking of the signs and the clanking hammer of a blacksmith. There was too much noise in my head, and I suddenly wished I brought either Adel or Leonardo with me. But that would create some questions on their parts.
I finally settled on an easier (for me) way to check out the surroundings. I found an empty alleyway, and nimbly finding cracks and ledges in the wall and the frames of windows I climbed up to the roofs. As soon as the air became easier to breathe, I decided it was good to be back in the game. I was sort of loosing sight of it the past few months - all my contracts had sort of stopped, which I wanted to ask Mario about. I stretched, letting the cool air blow out all the thoughts out of my head.
Enough of this. No more thinking of Ezio...no more nightmares...Maybe Milan will do me some good, I decided absently. Breathing in a lung-full of fresh air, I felt a lot better.
I heard the footstep and whistle and reacted within a split second. My body moved before I even fully realized what was going on. I fell down, rolling over my shoulder quickly, and swiped my throwing knives during the movement. Where I formerly stood, a think, long needle was plunged into the tile.
"It's her, alright."
"Her? And there I was, hoping for a man. My girls are going to be crushed," a loud, piercing female voice shrilled before I finally saw my attackers. Standing not too far away was Mario, his fists on sides, surveying me critically. Beside him stood a woman in an expensive courtesan dress, fixing the little lock of bleached blond hair that fell out of place. She did not look anything like the women of Italy, with her almost porcelain skin, and extremely light gray eyes. Considering the long spikes in her hair, she was the one to throw the needle. And very masterfully, too.
Slowly, still slightly distrustful, I straightened out. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Just checking. There could have been a leak of intelligence," Mario shrugged, smiling at me warmly as he approached, as if greeting a family member.
"And the chances of that happening?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Very low," he laughed. The woman came forward slightly, crossing her arms and looking me up and down.
"So this is Eden Cleare I keep hearing of...not as often as Ezio, of course, but you slip in every now and again..."
"Umm, who are you?" I asked, certain I'd never seen or heard of the woman before. Finally seeing her up close, I saw a thin scar that went through her eye, on the opposite side than Mario. Fortunately for her, it missed the eyeball, so her sight was still good and clear.
"This is Madonna Leona," Mario replied with a flourish of her hand, "She is the owner of the brothel nearby. And of course one of our most trusted people in this city."
"Ah, Mario, you flatter me," Leona purred playfully, making me cringe slightly in horror. But considering the old assassin remained passive, I think she was just joking. Hopefully. Because it made an extremely disturbing image. "Now, will we be standing up here all day or shall we head back inside? He's still waiting, after all."
"Who?"
"Someone you should meet." Mario didn't go farther than that as I fell into step beside them, walking along the roof. I was happy to see him again, though I really would have rather not have been attacked on sight just to make sure that it's me and no one else. But aside from that, up until this moment I actually missed the old man. "When did you arrive into Milano?"
"Two nights ago. I'm staying at Leonardo's workshop with Adel."
"The man who deciphered the codex pages for us?" he seemed intrigued.
I nodded almost proudly. "Yes."
"I'd like to meet him some time, then."
"Right. Mario, why did you-" I tried to ask, but he interrupted.
"We'll explain everything once we get back inside."
"Impatient, aren't you?" Leona asked, letting out a cocky chuckle. I didn't respond, and she pouted.
The brothel was strikingly different from the ones I had the experience of entering. To me, it was overdone to highest degree. Petals were dropped on everything, expensive curtains were lining the walls, you couldn't even see the stair way under the rugs, more curtains and streamers, and an occasional pair of pants. Perfume seemed to touch ever atom of the air, even more heavily in here than in either Paola's or Teodora's establishments. Though it was a bit softer on the nose, I still likely lost my sense of smell for a few hours, though.
They, thankfully, didn't leave me in the hall to watch all the questionable activity that was going on, and led me to a room upstairs, at the very far end of the hall.
"You're back," a deep voice sounded from inside the room as Mario opened the door. "Is this her?"
Ezio's uncle nodded as he gave a respectful bow. Leona repeated the gesture somewhat stiffly. I did too, hoping to at least figure out who the hell we were talking to.
"Eden, this is Niccolo Machiavelli, the leader of the mercenaries in Florence."
I blinked as the name rang a loud bell in my head. I definitely remembered that name...politician and philosopher, I was forced to read one of his books in grade twelve. I was never into politics too much, but I did remember agreeing with him about whether it was better to be loved or feared by your people. I was already in the gang for a few years, so my choice was obvious.
"It's an honor," I smiled, easily meeting the man's eyes. He was a lot like the pictures I'd seen on the internet and in textbooks, the artists of this day apparently having done a very good job. Machiavelli nodded in response, a light smile on his lips. And then he gestured to the seats, at which Mario and Leona sat down. I followed suit.
"Likewise. I'm sure you're curious as to why you were called here?"
"Of course. But I thought I was charged with Ezio?" I recalled Mario's task, which seemed like an eternity back.
"You were, and you did a remarkable job in guiding him," he nodded. "I've been following the events throughout Tuscany and in Venice closely. But now, he hardly needs protection."
"I'd say," I muttered lowly, "Never seen a more capable man. He's absorbed every single thing I've taught him. But can I ask what all this secrecy was for?"
"He needed to think he was at least partially alone in this," Mario spoke up, having lounged in the chair next to me. "There's nothing more motivating than that."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "That's a risky game."
"But a necessary one. But now, he is ready. And hopefully, his independence will continue once he is officially part of the order. Which brings us back to why you were summoned."
"I'm all ears."
"As I'm told, you have a unique tattoo on your left shoulder, the mark of the assassins?" Niccolo inquired and I nodded slowly, my hand automatically reaching up to touch it through the fabric. "And your father gave it to you?" I nodded again, unsure where he was going. "And you began your life as an assassin at an early age."
"Not exactly," I said mechanically. "I didn't know about the assassins or templars. I was a...well, I guess a hired killer; I just killed whoever I was told. Sometimes for money. Sometimes just because I'd be punished if I refused. You know, the usual motivators."
"But what I don't understand is where you could have gotten such a...career. Forgive me if I sound rude," he carefully continued, "But you're a woman…and there aren't many people who would willingly teach one to fight and kill, much less pay them to do so." I felt my blood turn to ice, and I swallowed a lump in my throat, licking my lips nervously. "Where did you learn your skills?"
"That - is not important," I tried to wriggle out of the inquisitive, and very piercing eyes of the politician. "It's all in the past that I'd rather not remember."
"I'm afraid you are going to have to tell us the entire story if you want trust within the Brotherhood." He knew I was keeping something. Mario noticed the change in my tone as well, and turned fully towards me, his face inquiring.
I was afraid of that. Closing my eyes, I leaned back in the chair, almost collapsing into it. My resolution was forming, and I decided that Machiavelli was right - I was done. If I already created an alternative time line with my presence, hell, I might as well go all the way. "Fine! I'll tell you exactly what I told Ezio. He knows the entire story, so if you think I'm totally batshit insane, you can ask him to vouch for me. I'm not from around here."
"That was obvious enough when you came into my villa," Mario put in.
"I mean, I'm not even from this era!" I gave a nervous laugh. "I will sound completely insane right now, but I was born in the city of New York in the year nineteen ninety. My dad, an assassin, left when I was fourteen and never came back. My mother was attacked and raped a year later, I haven't seen my sister since, and I've been in a backstreet gang selling drugs and killing whoever my boss didn't like. Well, that was until one day I was doing my thing, running from cops, and then without any sort of warning, I was thrown onto one of the rooftops in Florence five centuries back in time!"
There was a very long pause. And I mean, one of those extremely long, uncomfortable, awkward, stunned and disbelieving silences in which I was sure that everyone present was not only questioning my sanity, but also getting ready to find a straitjacket. Or possibly, burn me at the stake. They tended to do that in this era, right? Oh, that's just great…
"See? Hardly something I could tell anyone," I concluded. "Oh, right, and I'm pretty sure the Pieces of Eden were responsible for the time travel thing. Just saying."
"That-" Mario started slowly, "Is either the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, or...perhaps the only plausible explanation to everything."
"What do you mean?" the woman, Leona, spoke up in monotone, as if she was still trying to wrap her head around the entire statement.
"When Eden first showed up, Ezio said it was like she came out of nowhere. She was dressed very oddly, in men's clothes, carried a large amount of strange weapons on her, and generally did not fit in," he explained. "And besides, you should have seen her in the fighting rink with my men and nephew. I doubt there is a woman in this time that can match that level of skill."
"I am still here!" I nearly jumped up in frustration. "What is it with people always talking about me in the third person?"
"Mi dispiace," Mario apologized quickly. "But…in other words, I…I don't think you're lying."
"I have no reason to lie. If I was one of the Templars, I'd have killed Ezio a very long time ago. Not run around with him helping him complete assassinations of the opposing order. And I would have definitely not-" I stopped there, sinking back into the chair, hoping no one noticed the blush. "-have taught him."
"You're right..." Machiavelli said slowly, with uncertainty, "But what you're saying seems impossible. However, with the Pieces of Eden out there, I suppose it is as likely as anything. Well then, when we get our hands on the Apple, we will be sure to see about getting you back to your time-"
"NO!" This time, I did jump up to my feet, nearly yelling the words with desperation and fear. Everyone seemed surprised at the outburst. "I am not going back! I will not go back to the time where I have no family or friends, but a gang that I have to mindlessly kill for. I will not leave the life I have here. And I will not leave the one purpose of my existence!" I was panicking - the thought of returning to the place I still had vivid nightmares of made me feel like an animal with my back against the wall. "There is just no way I'll ever agree to it! I'd rather just kill myself now than go and live the rest of my life like that!"
They were utterly shocked. Obviously, they did not realize just how strongly I felt about the situation, and how much I hated my life before I gotten here. Before I met Ezio.
"Eden, sit down…please," Mario finally said, and immediately, I felt a little more calm. "We won't force you to go. Things have likely already changed, so I think you may as well continue your life here. We just assumed that you'd want to go back home."
"Then the change is inevitable," Niccolo concluded, and I finally took a breath of relief. "As unlikely as your story seems, it rings true."
"Good," was all I was able to say. Leona didn't look like she believed me, but didn't say anything, thankfully.
"Ezio knows about this, too?"
"Yes. Told him just a month after we met. He only believed me when I demonstrated one of my weapons." I remembered the day, for I still had a picture Leonardo drew of a woman named Aria to remind me.
"Which weapon would that be?"
I hesitated, but decided that I may as well go with the whole truth. I reached to my belt, and I nearly laughed when I saw a reflexive flinch from everybody present. Taking out the gun that I only used for quick target practice every now and again, I handed it to Machiavelli. He took it without any fear, examining it over.
"That looks a lot like Ezio's pistol," Mario noted, and I nodded.
"That's the principle of it. It's a much more modern version, though, and definitely a lot more quiet and efficient. I've almost ran out of bullets, though, so I try not to use it."
"Can't your friend, Leonardo, help you make more?"
"Never got around to asking him." I still had plenty of loads for my rifle, though thinking back, I hadn't used it for a very long time.
There was a short silence, after which the Grandmaster handed me back the weapon, surprisingly without asking for it to be demonstrated. "You have me convinced. As we can't be certain if this is for the best or for the worst., we'll just assume that everything is the way it should be. But even with all that, and the markings on you, you are still not officially part of the Brotherhood."
I listened quietly, just thankful that the whole story blew over and I wasn't considered completely off my horse. It looked like there would no witch-burnings today.
"But still, I think you are more than ready to be one of us. And in two days, we will need all the help we can get."
"What's happening in two days?"
"Rumors, mostly," Leona spoke, her tone becoming business-like, "But if the hunch is correct, then we will have our hands full."
Machiavelli nodded. "Ludovico Sforza has taken over the reigns, but not everyone is happy about that."
"I can imagine." I'd already heard the entire story from Leonardo. Ludovico was never meant to be a Duke, and in this age, people were a little finickey about it.
"We caught word that there will be a party in the court-"
"And of course some idiot will attempt to kill him?" I raised my eyebrows, easily predicting the end of the statement.
"Yes. After the murder of Galeazzo, we've been on edge," Leona explained. "Giovanni tried to stop it, but he was too late. It's a good thing we found all the conspirators. But the word on the street is that they've given the people motivation."
"So we don't actually know if someone is going to try? Isn't that boy still the Duke, anyway?"
"Officially, yes. But his Uncle is the one who truly wields the power. But whatever happens, we have to infiltrate the Sforza Castle. Keep an eye out, listen, and be as discrete as possible. We don't trust Ludovico anymore than he trusts us, so it's better to stay out of sight."
I was almost disappointed. "And if something does happen?"
"We have suspects. A fairly solid trail and informants say that they are Templars. So if anything happens, they will likely be at the heart of it."
I thought about the situation for a long moment. Templars were easy enough to deal with by themselves. They were cowards, and surrounded themselves with guards and thick layers of lies. But they were unlikely to show themselves if there was a threat. Discretion would be crucial, but at the same time, particularly hard, as they'd probably be on a look out. If they didn't show themselves, we'd still have Templars on the loose that would just attempt the murder later, when there is no one around.
"I have one more question," I finally breathed. "How am I getting inside? If the party is really that important, I highly doubt they will be letting just about anyone inside."
"They don't. But I was under the impression that you are good friends with Leonardo da'Vinci?" The courtesan asked pointedly, like a teacher trying to push her favorite student to the answer.
It clicked inside my head. "Ludovico is Leonardo's patron, he's likely invited to the party." I wasn't sure just how much Sforza liked the artist at this point, of course, but there was no harm in asking.
I suddenly groaned lowly, rubbing my temples as my headache began to grow from the smell of the brothel, the new information, the planning that continued clicking inside my head as if on counting boards, and the thought that just came to mind.
I have to wear a dress again, won't I?