Disclaimer: I do not own Ezio or any other mentioned Assassin's Creed characters, they are the property of Ubisoft. As for the historical characters mentioned… well.. I guess they belong to history… or themselves…

Glossary:

Condottiero - mercenary soldier leaders (or warlords) of the professional, military free companies contracted by the Italian city-states and the Papacy, from the late Middle Ages and throughout the Renaissance.

Zingaro - gypsy

Leonardo never really explained to Ezio the reason for their arrest by the Office of the Night. However, it didn't really take the youth too long to figure out everything with some help from his brother, who brought him around to a brothel to illustrate the difference between "various types of love"… as Federico put it. Soon after that eye-popping visit to a bordello, his father sat him down for a long talk about the importance of following "the natural way of things". However, it sounded a lot like a lesson by his tutor, especially when the man was having a very bad day. Moreover, there was a pretty scary expression on Giovanni's face during the "talk", which made Ezio keep his eyes firmly peeled to the ground, because his father looked as if he was killing giants.

Despite knowing "the truth" at least in the point of view of his family, Ezio kept visiting Leonardo at his workplace in the middle of the day. At first it was a workshop owned by a local master artist, and then soon after Leonardo himself set up his own place at a location near the Auditore home. Although Ezio was very careful when making his way to his friend's workshop, after about a week or so, his father somehow found out that he was seeing the young artist.

"Ezio, I want you to stop seeing that artist."

Giovanni managed to corner Ezio before he slipped out of the house. Despite his father's rather stern and scary tone, Ezio still managed a "Why papa?"

"He is a very bad person."

"No he isn't!" Ezio retorted.

Giovanni was a little taken aback by his son's reply. Ezio was normally the more "obedient" of his two older sons.

"Ezio, there are things about this Leonardo that you do not yet fully understand… he is trouble and he will get you into trouble if you keep hanging around him."

"I… I'm not a fool!" Ezio nearly stomped his foot. He did not like the way his father spoke to him, of late he was starting to feel that his father probably loved and trusted Federico more. "They don't like him because he likes men! What's wrong with liking to be… to be with a man instead of a woman?"

In truth, Giovanni had no good answer for that question. At least, no answer that he personally believed in. The creed of his family, the creed he was raised with reminded him that "Nothing is true; everything is permitted…." That statement nagged him since the day he brought Ezio back from the Office of the Night. However, being a man of his time, Giovanni found himself at odds with the creed he had sworn to heed so many years ago. He had no personal grudge against sodomites, in fact, he was sure some of them were pretty decent individuals… But no son of his was ever going to be one.

"Ezio! Stop seeing Leonardo… or else…"

Ezio never did hear the end of that sentence. He ran out of his father's study and out of the house as fast as he could. And for the second time that day that Giovanni found himself dumbfounded by his awkward second son. The boy ran so fast on his plump little legs that the older Auditore found it impossible to keep up with him.

At first, Giovanni was sure that his son would return home come dinnertime, but when that didn't happen. He went over to the studio where Leonardo worked and ended up arguing with the artist. When it was obvious that Ezio was not there, he had his network of contacts search the entire city. Amazingly, they were spectacularly unsuccessful. Ezio had apparently disappeared from the face of the earth. Giovanni only managed to catch a hold of him when sometime on the third day, the boy tried sneaking into the kitchen to find food. In a moment of anger spurred by his son's outright defiance, the older Auditore locked the boy in his room. He only let Ezio out after Maria convinced him that if he didn't try patching up his relationship with his second son, they might soon end up with one less child in the house.

Ezio's relationship with his father was never quite the same after that incident. His father became cold and distant and spoke to him only formally. They never discussed the topic of Leonardo ever again, and Ezio continued to visit his artist friend. Over time, he enjoyed hanging around the fascinating studio so much that he even started learning how to sketch. Despite his eagerness at learning something completely different from his usual studies, it was quite obvious from the start that art was something Ezio had little talent in. Nevertheless, he kept drawing and even painting because it was something he could share with Leonardo and because he found that he truly enjoyed it, especially when he felt depressed. And his life got more depressing the older he grew.

By the time he was 16, Ezio found himself staring into the mirror, wondering how he managed to grow old so fast. Whenever he was out with Federico, people would mistake him for his brother's uncle. Perhaps it had something to do with the clothes he wore, his puffy cheeks or plump appearance. Or perhaps it was the defeated expression he wore on his face when he prodded along, constantly keeping his eyes on the ground ahead of him. With his head perpetually dipped downwards and a permanent droop in his shoulders, he appeared a lot shorter than he actually was.

Leonardo on the other hand, cut an impressive figure. A fairly tall man with good features, he frequently caught the attention of many of Florence's young ladies, although he never returned any of their affections. However, the one thing that Ezio admired about his friend was the artist's gentle spirit. He would never hurt any living thing, no matter if said living thing threatened violence against him. There were certain city guards that frequently worked with the Office of the Night who liked to heckle the artist when they bumped into each other on the street. Once or twice when they managed to corner him near a lonely alleyway, they would attempt to give him a quick beating. Thankfully, the artist was much tougher than he appeared and never sustained any serious injury.

"Why don't you fight back?" Ezio once quizzed him after yet another unfortunate run in with the guards.

Leonardo shrugged, "What good would that do? It would just give them an excuse to put me behind bars for a day or two… such a waste of time…" He reached into a birdcage that held a dove he had just purchased and lifted the creature out gently. Raising his hand to the endless sky, his face widened into an ecstatic smile when the bird leapt from his hand and took flight.

"But you COULD… you know… you could have bested all of them," Ezio muttered, glancing sideways to observe his friend's reaction.

Leonardo laughed. "I suppose if I had learned the ways of the condottieri when I was younger, I might do that… but Fate and God have chosen this path of peace for me and I think that it suits me rather well…"

"Well, I think you would have made a great condottiero."

Leonardo laughed so hard that he nearly dropped the birdcage on the flagstones.

"Well, it IS true," his young friend protested.

If there was anyone who was more than he appeared, it certainly had to be Leonardo da Vinci. Despite having the fine, soft fingers and hands of an artist, he was very well built and stronger than most men that Ezio ever met, including his brother Federico. Frequently, after a few drinks at a local tavern, the pair would make bets with some of the clientele, pitting Leonardo in an arm wrestling match against some larger fellow. Thus far, few could actually beat the artist at this game. A variation of that would be to see how many iron horseshoes the artist and his challenger could bend in a minute. Often, while the other fellow was struggling with a single horseshoe, Leonardo would have already bent quite a few, as though they were made of soft lead.

There were times Ezio quietly envied his friend's looks and strength. There was something about Leonardo that made him feel lost and a bit sad, as if he were looking at a shadow of what could be. He wondered if beauty, physical stature and strength were indeed gifts that only providence could bestow on a man. He wondered if it were possible to have the same gifts as his friend. However, he banished these thoughts as soon as they entered his mind. The mere daydream of how his life would be different if he had some of his friend's, or even his brother's physical gifts, was almost too painful for him to endure.

So he resigned himself to his fate. Often while out drinking with Leonardo, he would mockingly refer to himself as "the fat Florentine banker".

It was almost evening during the week long feast of John the Baptist. This was the one week where the markets and streets of Florence bristled with activity from sun up till sundown throughout all 7 days. Ezio never really enjoyed this particular festival. Six years ago on the same day, he was trapped in the mausoleum and was cursed with his "sight". To help lighten the depressive mood, he made it a point to spend the entire day wandering from tavern to tavern ensuring he was never sober enough to think about the miserable morass that his life had sunk to.

By the evening of his annual "day of depression", he was slumped at the corner of a street, having thrown up numerous times since the morning and feeling as if his head had split in two. Fortunately, he had thrown up so much that he was unable to force down another gulp of alcohol and was actually sober enough again to recognize his friend when Leonardo came running up to him and tried to help him to his feet.

"You've had quite enough today... time to go back."

Shoving his friend's arm away, the young man practically yelled into the artist's face, "I don't want to go home!"

The pair collapsed into a tangle of legs and arms when Ezio's rubbery legs gave way and they sprawled onto the cobblestone street. Like an echo through a misty tunnel, Ezio was vaguely aware of the voices of children laughing nearby. He tried to get onto his feet, but was only able to balance himself on his hands and knees when he spotted a pair of beaded shoes as he lifted his face off the ground.

"Fortunes… signor? Cross my palm with silver to know your Fate…."

Through a groggy haze of sound and colour, Ezio saw Leonardo shooing away the dark-skinned woman who had stretched out one rough, bangled hand towards him. He was surprised that the gypsy woman managed to get past the city guards and enter Florence. Gypsies were generally unwelcome in the towns and cities.

"No, we don't want anything," Leonardo was pulling at Ezio's arm, trying to drag him away from the old gypsy woman who was wrapped up in colourful shawls.

"I'm not talking to you, maestro!" she pointed a craggy finger at Ezio. "I'm talking to him!"

Red in the face and feeling annoyed because of his splitting headache, he yelled at the old gypsy woman, "I KNOW my Fate, zingaro! I don't need to pay some thief to tell me about… MY LIFE!"

The shawl-covered bohemian glared at him and then shouted at the top of her voice.

"HE HAS THE DEVIL'S SIGHT! HE CAN SEE IN THE DARKEST NIGHT!"

Leonardo practically lifted Ezio off his feet and tried to drag him away from the shouting woman. But amazingly, she followed them, shouting at the top of her voice.

"DEVIL-BORN KILLER! SON OF A MURDERER!"

She made such a ruckus that it attracted the attention of some passing city guards. In order to avoid more trouble, Leonardo quickly shoved some money into her hands whispering, "Here, go away!"

"If you are truly his friend, maestro, hear what I have to say," she tugged hard at the artist's free arm.

Because the city guards were pushing through the crowds to get to the trio, Leonardo allowed himself to be pulled down a narrowed side alley by the determined gypsy. They moved through a maze of small streets before going through an ancient arched doorway into a crumbling courtyard where several fairly unsavory characters hung round a small makeshift table playing cards. The old woman stomped up to the table and scattered the group with shouts in a foreign tongue, which the artist guessed was probably the language of her people. She made the artist and his semi-sober friend sit at the table before pulling out a cup and plonking it in front of Ezio.

She disappeared for a few moments and returned with a small clay jug from which wafted an odd, vaguely herbal smell. Pouring out the contents into the cup, she said to Leonardo, "Make him drink this."

Picking up the cup gingerly and sniffing it he asked, "What is this foul thing?"

"Something to wake him up."

"What do you want with us?" by this time, despite his terrible headache, Ezio was lucid enough to mumble his question.

Stooping downwards like an aged hawk, the gypsy woman looked the youth in his eye. "Your quarry glows like a beacon when the dark veil of "the Devil's Sight" falls over you. You know the secret rooms and dark places of the earth when "the Sight" reveals their location to you... No darkness truly blinds you for you are able to see in the blackest night..."

Although there was no reaction from the youth, Leonardo's eyes clearly widened. Ezio had previously revealed his secret to his friend after a bout of heavy drinking when he found his secret almost too heavy to bear alone.

The old woman grinned in response. She pushed the foul-smelling cup towards the young man.

"Drink up, and I'll tell you what your heart desires to know..."

Ezio grabbed the cup and downed it in a single gulp. He was past fear. If the liquid in the cup was some sort of poison, he would at least be released from his miserable existence. As expected, the taste of the mixture was unbearably bitter. He almost threw up again, as the liquid burned a trail down his gullet.

When the colour returned to his face, the gypsy woman put a basin of warm water with an old towel out in front of the youth, made him wash his face and lay the towel on his throbbing forehead.

"The ancient powers of the earth smile on you, boy," she remarked as she settled down comfortably opposite the pair. "Like the maestro here, you have the power to do great good things, or great terrible things..."

Leonardo raised an eyebrow. "I... We are flattered by that notion... but I for one certainly do not find myself the master of anything... "

The old woman clicked her tongue, "You maestro, will be remembered for your thoughts and works long after you have departed this life. Those that come after will speak of your name in legends, like as the gods of old."

Turning to Ezio she remarked, "Your name however, will likely pass into history unremembered except by those who are like you... Who walk your path. You will be a mighty hero unto them."

"What do you mean... 'like me'? Will there be others with this 'Devil's Sight'?" the old woman's words sounded pretty incredulous to Ezio.

"You are the son of a murderer. Born from a long line of killers. You have many kinfolk... and yourself will have many sons. Your gift will pass to some of them."

Ezio laughed, "Banking might be at cutthroat business at times, but I hardly think my father has actually killed anyone with the amount of interest he charges."

"Your father is a fool for having kept this secret from you. You might be better prepared if you knew," the old woman muttered.

"And WHAT do I have to prepare myself for?"

"What you MUST do," the gypsy woman lurched out and glared into the youth's eyes. "You must be strong, swift, skilled and cunning... And not...This.." she prodded his slightly protruding belly.

"Your father has many enemies, and before you know it, you will have to fight for your life!" her words fell like lead weights. "If you do nothing and allow yourself to be manipulated by the circumstances which you believe are beyond your control, then not only yourself and your family, but your children and their children... All of mankind... Will become SLAVES!"

There was a dead silence. Despite the sheer incredulity of her words, there was something about them that sent a chill down the spines of both men.

"You and your father… and all your ancestors before you... you were all born to strength... You must kill, to balance the world. There are monsters walking in the flesh of men and if they are not culled, they will bring chaos to this world... "

"So have no fear of your 'gift'... neither curse it... " she added. "Rid yourself of all these fears, otherwise they will turn your greatest gifts into your greatest burdens."

Ezio wanted to ask the woman how she knew about his "Sight", but as soon as her eyes rolled up exposing the whites, she started speaking in a language neither of them understood. Unable to get a coherent answer from her, they left soon after. Both men were quite surprised that they were allowed to leave without being harassed by the other gypsies for more money.

"That was… rather melodramatic… and quite entertaining… I can't imagine your father's face if he found out he was a murderer." The two friends started laughing as soon as they reached a bustling marketplace.

"But how did she know about… "the Sight"?"

"Lucky guess… I suppose." the artist replied.

"Perhaps she was a witch," Ezio appeared a little concerned.

"Well, if she was, she wasn't a very good one."

They both started laughing again.

With their good spirits restored, the pair decided to stay out a little while longer and enjoy the festivities. They headed over to the nearest tavern where some of Leonardo's acquaintances frequented.

That turned out to be the worst decision of their lives.