AC Brotherhood Novelization

by Mirror and Image

Desmond continues his journey to being an Assassin and slowly going insane while reliving his ancestor Ezio as Ezio's worlds crumbles under his feet. Rated for Desmond's language, overall violence, and of course a certain amorous encounter at the beginning of the game.

10. Loss and Learning

Part Ten: Loss and Learning

May brought a slew of contracts from Machiavelli – much to Ezio's consternation, with a note saying that one of his leads had finally born fruit, hence the list. Ezio recalled Vecellio and the others back from the countryside, telling them they had their pick of novices to use for the names. Enu took his former archers: Migliore and Sozzi, as well as the mute Alighiero. Varzi took Vittoria and Candida, to be expected, and the former thief Filippo. Vecellio thought for a long time before suggesting the odd combination of Taddeo and Elda.

It took a week to gather all the novices, and Ezio spent the next week on the roof of the warehouse, staring out at the Vatican, and trying to work through the nervous energy that consumed him. He hoped having the assassins pick their teams would help things run more smoothly. It did.

Sozzi, devastated with his injuring a fellow novice, came back with an air of pride; Alighiero had become close to Migliore, and Filippo returned with, to use his words, "a greater understanding of the mystery of women." The real surprise was Vecellio's pair, however. He had them pose as a married couple, and because of that discovered that their skills complemented each other well. Elda, quicker to pick up on subtleties and targets, could walk with confidence that the former nun usually didn't have because Taddeo made a show of protecting her from everyone, utilizing his muscle in intimidation instead of bloodbaths and giving him a new understanding of the power he actually had. It was a miracle hit.

When Gilberto arrived at the end of the month with the rest of the rotation, he had glowing reviews for his group. "They are almost as fast as us, now," he said without exaggeration. "Giordano is a sight to behold when he runs, and he has a natural skill for climbing. He'll make an excellent messenger or courier, once his memory is improved. The others, I can see why you sent them to me; they are exceedingly well rounded."

"I know," Ezio said without a hint of irony.

"Migliore is bright," the master thief added. "He discovered one of the Cento Occhi leaders has worked his way into our own guild."

Ezio blinked. "Really?" he asked.

"Let me finish," Volpe said, raising a hand, "Migliore not only told me about it, but under his own initiative tracked the imposter down and killed him, without thought to his own safety; he did it simply out of duty. That is a rare thing indeed, and I'm sorry you got to him before me. I enjoyed watching that one eyed bastardo get his throat cut."

The master assassin nodded, and soon Bartolomeo was arriving with his rotation as well.

"I swear, Ezio, that little shitface Abate doesn't even know what the sun looks like his head is so far stuck up his ass, but I broke him into tiny little pieces. I had a bet going with my lieutenants to see who could break him first, and I made quite a lot of money! He'll know better than to disobey a direct order ever again! And that Sozzi, that mission you pulled him for did him good; he's also an accomplished rider, now, and I've never seen a boy take to archery with such gusto. His use of a shaft ought to impress many ladies. How are the girls progressing? I'm looking forward to teaching them hand to hand combat!"

And so Ezio handed out the orders for the next rotation. Bartolomeo's group rotating to Volpe so that the master thief could further teach Abate a lesson and improve their climbing now that their muscles were better developed while Volpe's runners were given to Ezio and Claudia for finer education, and the girls were sent to Bartolomeo with their new confidence to learn more nuanced combat.

In between all the training, Ezio had one of the recruits break into Leonardo's studio and plant a note. So one evening, Ezio was calmly sitting on a bench up on one of the hills of Roma, looking down on the splendor of the city when Leonardo arrived, heaving a great sigh about long walks to find decent paint supplies.

Glancing around, Ezio looked with his eagle and found no sign of guards.

"How did you find my studio?" Leonardo asked with a wry grin.

Ezio offered his own grin. "Do you truly wish to know?" he raised a brow.

Leonardo let out a long, quiet laugh. "My friend, how I've missed you."

The Florentine Assassin leaned back, his shoulders dropping in relaxation for the first time since probably the attack at Monteriggioni. "I have samples of my prospective blacksmith's work," he said quietly, handing over a bag of the samples.

The painter and inventor eagerly started pulling things out, carefully examining them and pulling out odd tools that always overflowed from his pockets. "Very good work," he said lightly, his eagerness back in his work. "I'd like to meet this man if I could and discuss his methods. There's a secondary metal in here and I've never seen anything like it."

"He is a Frenchman."

"And quite brilliant in his own right! If he knows how to mix metals like this, that might help refine some of the designs!" Leonardo pulled out another sample and held it up to the light. "Maybe a hidden crossbow? Similar to a gun, but quieter. Though impact would be sacrificed. You can't deny the power a bullet packs."

Ezio smiled, listening as his oldest and dearest friend chattered on with anything that caught his whims. Etienne would soon be brought into the fold to smith proper blades for his novices. Poison would certainly be useful, especially for any who showed aptitude for hiding in the crowds. Ezio would be more careful with the hidden gun, simply because of its power, but it was good to know he had a blacksmith again.

"I heard an interesting rumor at Il Vaticano," Leonardo said quietly, his demeanor shifting to something more quiet.

"Oh?"

"Word has it that his Holiness is looking at a German scholar who's been digging into histories he shouldn't."

Ezio frowned.

"Conradus Celtes," Leonardo pronounced carefully. "He's a humanist, an old friend of Lorenzo de Medici, I hear, and a fancy poet. They say he's going to write a history of a secret order that's survived for hundreds of years that slay demons in shadows. An order dressed in white, faces always obscured, who call forth heaven's fire to take down the enemies."

Ezio's frown deepened. Most of it was fantasy, but the tiny grain of truth that existed was enough for Ezio to know he'd have to look into it. He'd send Enu with some of the novices to investigate.

"I doubt such a book will ever be published," Ezio replied.

Leonardo only nodded.

Which just made Ezio smile. "So tell me how the Vaticano is treating you? Have you gotten a raise at all?"

Leonardo scoffed, launching into another set of ramblings and Ezio just listened, relishing in the friendship.

The first week of August, the novices he'd sent out with one of his apprentices finally returned, bringing news that the scholar had been spoken to. Celtes, it seemed, was a firm supporter of the Assassins. So much so that the rumors of his research into them had nothing to do with working for the Templars, but entirely with how he wanted to publish a proper history to show the world what the Assassins did to save them and to properly defame the Templars and bring their evil deeds to light.

Ezio was amused greatly by this.

Celtes had been convinced that such a publishing would do more harm than good, and once he was properly linked with the local Assassins, he promised to be a help with all his research.

The heat, as usual for the month, was unbearable. Dante had to be summoned briefly when, after a long day of work, Migliore completely collapsed in a fever after absorbing too much heat of the day. The doctor concocted some potion and told Ezio flat out not to push so hard in such heat without water breaks. Ezio acknowledged he needed to keep a closer eye on idioti that didn't stop for breaks when he called for them.

Pantasilea dropped by briefly with news, and also to take a small break from being around all the mercenaries for a week or so, and her children were soon running underfoot with Ezio happily having his novices corral them.

By happenstance, Gilberto arrived as well and chuckled at the children running around, having escaped the many novices again. Ezio guided the thief to his office, where Pantasilea was lounging with a book before she headed out to meet Claudia for dinner. "Volpe," she greeted demurely.

"Madonna," Gilberto replied, taking the other chair while Ezio seated himself behind his desk.

"So, how can I help?"

Gilberto sipped his cool wine and took a moment to savor it. "How does destroying the Cento Occhi sound?"

Ezio leaned forward. "Intriguing."

"With your help," Volpe started, "our rivals and the Borgia have become more and more at odds. With tension between them, the Cento Occhi have been decreasing in numbers as my men take them out and set them up to be caught and captured. By hard work and a strong touch of luck, we have found where the leaders will be meeting." The Fox's grin was downright predatory.

Pantasilea offered polite goodbyes, saying that such a discussion would make her late for Claudia and that she didn't want her curious children overhearing anything. Ezio walked her and her children out and returned to start planning with Volpe.

At the end of the week, the three leaders of the Cento Occhi would be meeting out in the countryside, at a stable near some ancient ruins. So Ezio sent out his novices and apprentices to scout the area and start making plans. He took the time to check in with Vecellio and his team to see if there was any success with the Followers of Romulus. It seemed they were getting rumors of a possible base, but pinpointing it was proving elusive. That was fine, and he kept them at it. The more the countryside didn't have to worry about thieves and brigands, the sooner they'd start worrying about the real problem of Rome: the Borgia.

The stables where the meeting was to take place was well stocked with horses and Ezio could not see how this was going to work without needing horses of their own. While some, like Sozzi, were good riders, many of his recruits just couldn't handle horses very well. Gaspare and Abate were decent enough, and Vittoria and Candida were quick learners, but Elda, Sancia, Migliore had never ridden before and only barely able to control their animals. Taddeo was completely hopeless, barely able to even mount, which left Ezio with a difficult task of planning around either making sure the thieves' leaders didn't escape, or some sort of contingency on if they did end up mounted.

It was one of the apprentices that pointed out an abandoned market square that was partially collapsed, making an almost perfect dead-end for an ambush. Once Ezio realized that, he started formulating a plan.

Gaspare, Sozzi, and Candida would come with him to the stables. Rather than try and plan around whether or not the Cento Occhi leaders would end up mounted, Ezio instead decided to use horses to their advantage and get them to that ruined market square. There, there would be no one to raise an alarm and they could take out the leaders without hindrance. Once the four of them set the leaders running out the only exit of the stables (that they'd allow), a small ambush with Filippo, Vittoria, Abate, and Giordano would send the leaders down the small path to the square, where the apprentices and the rest of his novices would be waiting. Horses and men alike would fall under such a storm of arrows.

Ezio made sure his novices checked their horses thoroughly the day of their attack, oiled their weapons, checked their saddles, and that those at the ruined square had all the arrows and throwing knives they needed. The horses of the leaders would likely die as well, but that would be a small price to pay. Ezio was earning enough now that he might even be able to reimburse the stables.

So the afternoon of the meeting (Ezio had to chuckle at that. A certain Fox had made things so difficult that the leaders wouldn't even meet at night), Ezio and three of his novices watched as the three leaders of the Cento Occhi entered. One was properly dressed like a thief. One looked like a merchant, likely to sell the stolen goods. And the third was a mercenary guard that was far too thin and wiry to actually be a mercenary.

Ezio turned to Candida, Sozzi, and Gaspare. "Are we ready?" he asked silently.

"Yes, Maestro," they all replied.

"We'll give them ten minutes to settle, then enter."

On silent feet, they all snuck in, each covering a possible escape route, leaving only the one that would send the leaders down the road Ezio had chosen.

Ezio appeared first, his novices seconds later. "Well, it's nice to see you finally made it," he greeted the Cento Occhi leadership.

Their targets stood there agape for a moment, shocked as they were almost surrounded by Assassins.

Their best response was to hop onto their horses and flee. Just as they wanted.

Ezio chuckled. Their own horses were right outside, saddled and ready, and Ezio leapt up over the rear of his horse and kicked the flanks hard, spurring his horse right into a gallop as they chased after them. Per the plan, Ezio and his novices kept close enough to keep their targets panicked, but far enough back that they didn't feel hopeless. Sozzi on horseback was a marvel, firing off arrows while riding at full speed and keeping the horses of the thieves scared.

After two miles of the chase, the thieves found Filippo and his group bearing down from ahead of them, Vittoria and Abate firing arrows and Giordano keeping their horses steady.

The horses froze, and one of the leaders, the one dressed as a thief, fell from Sozzi's well-placed arrow. The merchant and mercenary, still scared, turned down a narrow alley, just as Ezio had wished, and the two groups of Assassin's combined in chasing after them.

Ten miles away, Ezio knew, was a Borgia tower. Vecellio had already mentioned it as a good place to take down, but in all the searches for the Followers of Romulus, the three full Assassins Ezio had simply didn't have the time to take down the tower. But it was ten miles away and would never be able to send reinforcements to their pet thieves in time.

But Ezio hadn't counted on patrols. Or rather, he didn't predict a patrol this far out. Racing down the alley, all the guards saw was a merchant and mercenary being hounded by eight people firing arrows at them.

Really, given how it looked, it wasn't a surprise that the patrol kicked their own horses and took off in pursuit. Now Ezio had arrows coming from his rear even as he fired ahead of him.

"Sozzi, Giordano! Take out that patrol! Filippo, keep back if they need a hand!"

They all nodded and broke off, spinning their horses to handle the pursuing guards. Ezio hated to lose Sozzi, who was incredible with an arrow now, but his horsemanship would be better in facing a mounted patrol.

The ruined square was ahead, and once there, the men fell to arrows. Ezio and those still with him hung back, not wanting to get caught in the cross fire. Surprisingly, the mercenary thief used the body of his fellow thief as a shield as he tried to maneuver through the market.

The dead thief's horse fell halfway through the square as arrows continued to rain down, but Ezio's sharp eyes soon saw what the mercenary thief was heading for: a narrow alley just off the corner of the market partially buried in rubble, where Migliore was stationed. But Migliore's crossbow seemed to have jammed and he wasn't firing arrows in the storm around the mercenary.

With a cry of triumph, the mercenary thief kicked his horse, dropping his co-leader when there was a pause as several of his novices reloaded their arrows.

"No!" Ezio shouted, kicking his own horse and racing across the square.

But Migliore, one of the shining stars of all his novices, was no match for a horse galloping right at him with no room to jump aside. He was knocked down and trampled; the mercenary then throwing a knife down to finish the job.

Ezio kicked harder, racing forward.

No! Ezio didn't want another death of one of his own. Migliore may not be family, may not even be someone Ezio was close to, but the former merchant was his nonetheless. When given a choice, Migliore had decided that he was willing to kill, to fight, to protect, and had continued to prove himself committed to the task even without an instructor nearby. He was one of the best of the novices! He couldn't die! Not now! Not like this! Not being trampled like dirt by a panicked horse ridden by a cowardly thief! No!

He was one of the best novices. And, broken and dying, Migliore pulled out the knife that gleamed in the setting sun, and threw it with a precision that was shocking in his current state, slicing the thief's horse's leg.

Sweat dripped into Ezio's eyes and he slowed his horse enough to wipe it away and then took off. Elda was already racing across the square to take care of Migliore, screaming something, and Ezio left her to it, his blood boiling.

The thief's horse was lame, and Ezio was an expert on his own animal. He was swiftly catching up, but there was a problem. The thief had found the horses of his novices and had taken one, clumsily jumping from his horse to the new, fresh one, and then kicking hard.

Damn it! This figlio di puttana wouldn't get away!

Behind him several of his novices spurred on after him, but Ezio was already far ahead, keeping that fucking asshole of a thief in his sight.

Ezio spurred his horse on faster, but they were seven miles from the Borgia tower now. It was a race to safety with Ezio's tired horse that had been running full tilt and the thief and his fresh, stolen horse.

And just to put things to an even better place, another patrol of guards stumbled upon the chase.

Ezio ignored the thundering hooves all around him, his focus solely targeted on that bastardo who had killed one of his novices, one that he had offered a dangerous life and who chose to do so willingly. A young merchant who would not die in vain.

Behind him he could hear death cries, his novices taking care of his pursuers. Some shouted encouragement, and he'd speak to them later about being stealthy, even in battle, but that was a fleeting thought as he pushed his horse even harder. The thief's horse might be fresher, but the thief wasn't a good rider. The horse was a skittish sort and kept veering away from the road leading to the Borgia tower. Ezio, however, was the complete master of his horse, the beast not even flinching when arrows sped by from his pursuers.

Slowly, Ezio crouched on his saddle as his horse got closer, and, free of the stirrups, he leapt, hidden blade extended, and landed on the back of the mercenary thief's saddle. Behind he heard epitaphs of surprise, but he ignored them, intent on his boiling rage. The blade tasted the man's neck, digging deep, and as the skittish horse panicked, trying to rear to remove the extra weight, Ezio shoved the deadweight off and settled into the saddle, kicking the horse and turning him off to the darkening ruined streets and out to the fields beyond.

He let the horse go as it pleased for a while, letting it calm down and work out the nervous energy, before reestablishing who was boss and guiding the horse back to the rendezvous point.

The sun was just setting and Ezio had pushed his hood back just to wipe his sweat with a handkerchief. Really, he shouldn't be so tired after all of that.

At the rendezvous, Ezio sadly saw that Migliore wasn't the only loss his novices had suffered. Giordano had fallen as well, from the first patrol that had chased after them.

Ezio shook his head. Two novices down. One, a competent quick learner that would go places. One, not very bright, but second only to Ezio in speed among their Order that had the makings of a great courier.

All of them, Ezio, novices, and apprentices, carefully buried them in the darkness of the night. Ezio took their hoods, and let out a soft, sad, sigh. With heavy hearts they returned to the hideout, and Ezio took them all up to the roofs with a brazier. The apprentices knew what he was doing, and helped him set everything up.

The hoods burned quickly, in the warm night. Behind him, some of the novices were crying. Perhaps they realized just what would happen to them in this type of life. Perhaps they'd slip off in the night. Ezio would understand, and he wouldn't hold it against them. He chose this life for revenge. So did the novices. But he was also bound by family and so many parts of his life that he wondered if he could ever truly leave the Assassins behind. The novices were new to this. They didn't have the bonds.

But that night, Ezio realized much later, was a bond. Perhaps the first, but it bonded all novices together.

As Elda lifted her voice in song, a hymn of sadness over the death of Christ, several others joined in.

And they all mourned.

---

Ezio spent September by his paints, working on the portraits of Giordano and Migliore, committing every detail he knew to canvas. The sadness ached, but he kept at it. The novices had split up back to their training, but the apprentices were promoted to assassins.

Ezio thought long and hard, and, after this rotation, he'd promote Filippo, Alighiero, and Vittoria to apprentices.

The month remained quiet, for which Ezio was grateful with his heavy heart. He walked around town, still helping out shop-owners and injecting money into the economy, resulting in getting more back. Now that he finally had florins to spend, Ezio often found himself in various bookstores. His novices couldn't train all day every-day, and now that they knew how to read, Ezio intended to show them the wonder of reading beyond politics or scrolls that might need copying one day. It also gave Ezio a chance to catch up on reading he'd wanted to do but never had the time for. As he got older, he found he liked just spending a quiet moment in the sun or by the fire and letting words take him to a world that was not so sad or depressing. To escape for a short time, from the sorrow he lived with almost every day.

Etienne was thrilled with the challenge of the hidden blades, and poison darts, and soon Ezio was training his novices in new skills with what they were already learning. With five full Assassins, Ezio also had Vecellio prepare to take down a Borgia tower, so that he had a place to send apprentices in the countryside to keep learning. Also, more help in hunting down the Followers of Romulus would likely be useful.

The master mason Ezio had discreetly hired for the tunnels was nearing completion, and Ezio kept checking and mapping, leaving little symbols for the Brotherhood, so that they would not be lost.

And, on a whim, one evening when Ezio found himself too sad to paint and too antsy to just sit around the hideout and read and too impatient to teach, he wandered the streets and bought a ticket to a concert. It was a different experience that was both nostalgic and sad. His father, as a noble, had an appreciation of the finer things in life. Ezio had been dragged to many performances as a child that he'd never really cared for. But listening now, he remembered them and couldn't quite stop the sad smile that the memory of his father always brought.

Ezio decided he wouldn't mind going to a concert or a play again. Maybe bring Claudia and Federica. Maria, if she was up to it.

That sent another jab of pain through his heart, and Ezio soon returned to his painting.

October came with more chilly weather and intermittent rain. His groups had changed again, and he had Gaspare, Alighiero, and Sozzi with him. Vecellio and the other promoted Assassins had taken down a Borgia tower and were using it as a base of operations, and Ezio had sent some of the novices there to help. The rest were split between Volpe and Bartolomeo.

Ezio and his group were in the streets in a chilled drizzle, along the outskirts near the north wall, by Santa Maria dei Miracoli and Santa Maria di Montesant. Ezio was attempting to show them how to track targets, but the weather wasn't helping, and it was hard to explain things when he so often depending on his inner Eagle that it seemed no others had. Alighiero was the one who caught on best, but couldn't explain his methods without his tongue. After a fruitless morning, Ezio called a break.

They headed back into the city, Ezio telling them in no uncertain terms that they needed to blend all the time now, not just as practice, and headed to a tavern for a light lunch. Ezio was glad that he was able to afford a nicer place to eat, and after the rough morning and the continuing grief of losing two of their own, Ezio splurged on his novices and apprentice.

The tavern they were in had a few courtesans latched onto the arms of some of the patrons, but they were an oddity in an establishment trying to make itself reputable. One of the courtesans eyed them, however. She was in the reds of the Rosa in Fiore, and had no doubt noticed and recognized them once they came in.

From the covert looks she was giving them, she needed to speak with them as well.

Ezio flicked his eyes amongst his novices. Alighiero picked up what Ezio wanted, but he wouldn't be able to communicate what he'd learned. So he nudged Sozzi and gestured. It took a moment, but the numbers man nodded and stood. He weaved through the patrons, bumped into the courtesan, who artfully spilled her drink across to her client, who disappeared to clean up. The courtesan pulled Sozzi's down to her, whispering in his ear and Sozzi blushed brightly, pretending to be the embarrassed merchant.

When Sozzi returned, Ezio glanced around and gestured and they all left. Outside, Sozzi quickly outlined what the courtesan had told them. The Spaniard seemed to have figured out that Ezio and his Brotherhood were taking out the ambassadors that the Papacy had in its pocket, and a letter had been prepared to go to Romagna and find Cesare. They would need to intercept it. And quickly.

They quickly found a stable and got horses, before heading to the main roads leading out of Rome. The courtesan had only just seen the courier that morning, but it was currently afternoon and a person could cover a lot of ground in that time.

From where they were Ezio guided his novices and apprentice through back alleys to where the courtesan had ran into the courier and working their way down the roads, Ezio's Eagle Vision searching everyone they passed. It was two hours later at their breakneck pace, that Ezio finally spotted a flicker of gold.

He quickly reigned in, and signaled for his people to follow him. He trotted up one of the hills, looking down. The courier was walking his horse, that was slightly lathered after a long morning of hard riding, and clearly getting some time to cool off.

"Merda," Ezio cursed. "He rides. We can't just pick his pocket, he will notice."

Sozzi and Gaspare waited for Ezio to start forming a plan, but Alighiero was ahead of him. He had mounted his horse and quickly road down.

"Wait!" Ezio shouted. "Get back here!"

But the apprentice ignored him.

"Merda," Ezio swore again. "Come on. We'll follow."

Alighiero merged easily with the road, well behind the courier who seemed oblivious to the mute who was tailing him. A half hour later, Alighiero spurred his horse hard, pulling out a blade and slapping the horse's rear harshly, making the animal panic. It lurched forward and the apprentice held on tight while looking out of control until the horse rammed into the courier's. Both animals fell, and Alighiero tumbled forward, landing on the courier in a mess of limbs.

"Clever," Ezio murmured. It looked like a complete accident, but no doubt his apprentice had just picked the courier's pocket. "With both horses lame, they'll have to walk father."

Ezio turned. "Sozzi, ride ahead and start walking back. Take what Alighiero has picked up and bring it to us."

"Yes Maestro," the eager novice nodded, kicking his horse and riding ahead.

"Gaspare, you'd best have your inks ready."

"We'll need somewhere dry," the former scrivener said.

Ezio motioned ahead to a small barn for the farms that were spread out around them. "Set up in there. I'll bring Sozzi here."

Ezio followed behind them, his horse at an eased walk.

Sozzi was dismounted, his horse nowhere in sight as he came out of the fields, his clothing rearranged to look closer to a farmer, and he walked down the road. Alighiero spotted him easily and passed off the message. Sozzi was bouncing with energy again, his enthusiasm getting the better of him, as it still did. Ezio glared at him, and Sozzi contained himself again. Once Ezio had the message, he fell back and galloped off to the barn.

Gaspare had various parchments all sorts of vials of things out, few of which Ezio could identify. Ezio handed him the scroll and watched as Gaspare began carefully copying the handwriting of the message, only this time with different words. His time as a copier making forgery an almost natural outgrowth of his talent. The wax seal, which had been carefully removed without any breakage, was replaced by warming the wax ever so slightly over a candle Gaspare had set up.

This was indeed a useful skill. Ezio had to wonder how else he could use this. But not now. Gaspare didn't hand it over until it was set and cool, and then Ezio was galloping back to the road, keeping a sharp eye out for Sozzi or Alighiero.

He quickly found Sozzi, walking his horse on the road much as Ezio had. Ezio passed his reins to his novice and walked forward with purpose on foot, passing Alighiero, and silently handing off the forged new message, saying how well things were going in Rome. It was approaching evening now and Alighiero stayed at the same tavern as the courier, and by the time dinner was done, the new message was back with the courier, him being none the wiser.

That didn't change the fact that Ezio would have to be more watchful. They had been fortunate. It would take time before Rodrigo would realize that Cesare wasn't coming. But he might send another letter and they'd have to be wary. Maybe Claudia could get some of her girls to become regulars for the couriers? But how to do so...

Another thing for Ezio to think about.

There was good news, however. Vecellio arrived to the hideout a week later with news on the Followers of Romulus. He and the novices and freshly apprenticed Vittoria had discovered a den and attacked. They had wiped out most of the Followers, but many of the low level followers had escaped.

The leaders had not. Indeed, Vecellio reported, the leaders had all slipped some interesting information. It seemed that the leaders were making up their whole religion of Romulus, with phony prophecies provided most likely from the Borgia.

Machiavelli's thoughts had been confirmed. They were another arm of the Pope to drive people to the church's arms, and the money of the poor to the coffers. Ezio frowned horribly at this, grilling Vecellio on everything they had heard to try and get any other details. Something about a cardinal, but there were no definitive answers.

Ezio sighed. Another lead that just went cold, just as the months were.

---

November was frigid, but Ezio stopped by Arianna at her convent and collected an order he had placed months ago. This time, at least, his niece's birthday did not catch him by surprise. He still hadn't decided whether it was going to be pleasant or horrific – now officially fourteen she was subject to the mood swings and radical shifts of any girl becoming a woman. Would she hate him tonight? Or be her "Zio 'zio"?

So, with a bottle of wine and the dress he had commissioned from Arianna, he called on Claudia's apartment and hoped for the best. Lucia opened the door and let him in graciously before leaving herself. Claudia and Maria were already seated at the table, and Federica appeared soon after, seeing Ezio and his gifts and beaming.

"Zio 'zio!" it was.

The dinner went well, all things considered, Federica oogled and awed at the gifts, ate her favorite foods, and talked for (seemingly) hours about what she had learned and what she was doing and who she was meeting.

"Zio 'zio, I had a question," she asked, her eyes bright. "Several of the boys in the city stop and talk to me, they smile and they complement me, but I've seen the men at the Rosa in Fiore – they only want one thing from the women there, and they don't like it when they don't get it. I try to talk to the boys and they react the same way – they don't like it when I say something. Are they after the same thing?"

Ezio choked on his wine.

"That's enough of that," Maria said, wiping her mouth delicately and placing the napkin on the table. "You don't learn those kinds of things until your wedding night. Come on, Claudia, let's try on your new dress; let's not bother your father any more."

"Nonna, I'm Federica."

"That's what I said. Let's go."

Maria and Federica disappeared, and Ezio leaned over the table. "How often is she doing that now?" he whispered.

"Once a week or so," Claudia said, tight eyes looking at her brother. "She always catches herself like that, but I don't like it. Losing your mind is such a terrible way to go."

"Is there anything I can do?"

His sister shook her head. "What can anyone do? I make her comfortable, I correct her when I can, what else is there?"

Silence settled over them, worry shared. Ezio was slowly becoming uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was going to lose another of his precious few – and not a sudden, violent death, but rather a slow, grinding, painful descent to madness. That... that was worse, so, so much worse, and the master assassin shuddered at the future that beheld his mother. He needed to think of something else, anything else.

"Now that Federica is fourteen," he said, running hands over his face and through his hair, "Have you thought about her marriage?"

Claudia stiffened next to him, and Ezio had the sinking feeling that instead of feeling better he was about to feel much, much worse.

"She's not going to get married," Claudia said softly, looking steadfastly at the table. "I'm not going to choose someone for her, and I'm not going to encourage her, and I'm not going to hound her, either. If – if – she can find someone, I'll encourage it, but not before then."

Ezio first reaction was to lean back in shock, eyes wide, as his mind skittered to a halt. Federica... she was still so young! There was no one out there to protect her, no one to look after her... It was fine with Claudia that her marriage was deferred so long because Ezio was there to look after her, as was Mario. She was safe enough to pick the man she loved, but Federica, she was loose to the wilds of Rome! The Borgia were everywhere, the city guards alone had proven over and over to be abusive, to say nothing of her exposure to the brothel. Every day of her life was spent vulnerable to the whims of men who were not as enlightened as Ezio or the others in his brotherhood. Hell, even the novice Abate did not understand how to treat women, so even the hideout was dangerous to her. To completely write off marriage... How... What...!

"What are you thinking?" he hissed, leaning forward as he realized the full implications of what she had just said. "You'd leave her defenseless?"

"No, Ezio," Claudia said, "Not defenseless."

"Are you mad? How is that not defenseless?"

Claudia, staring at the table intently up to that point, lifted intense eyes and leveled them at Ezio. "I see you've been paying absolutely no attention whenever you visit," she said in a low, threatening voice. "What do you think I've been training her for for the last three years? To be a wife?"

Ezio shook his head. "I thought you were trying to protect her. We're in the middle of Roma, of course you had to do something. I'm not an idiota, Claudia." However much he hated the idea of training his niece in anything, he had eventually come to understand it.

"Then why can't you see this is merely an extension of that?"

"Because it's not!" Ezio countered, his low voice rising slightly in volume. He glanced to the doorway where his mother and niece had disappeared and controlled himself again. "You wanted this, Claudia, you wanted to make your own decisions and to strike out on your own, and I've let you do that, but this is Federica's safety we're talking about here, I can't let you make some stupid reactionary decision because... because... why are you even doing this?"

The silence stretched out between them, Claudia glaring at Ezio and vice versa, energy crackling between them as neither one moved to back down.

Finally, after an eternity, Claudia asked, "Do you remember the day after they died?"

Ezio blinked, the question startling him. The all too indelible image of the hanging flashed across his eyes: Giovanni's desperate gambit, Federico slowly choking, Petruccio's neck breaking. He remembered burying the bodies with Cristina, coming to the empty villa and being lead to Paola's waiting hands. He remembered the heartbreaking moment of telling Claudia what had happened. He remembered waking up that morning and being flooded with anger, unable to think of anything but paying that bastardo back, Uberto Alberti. Only Paola had stopped him, pulling him aside and teaching him to survive.

"... Yes," he said in a dark voice.

Claudia leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting off into memory. "You told me that you were going to kill the man responsible for it all. What you didn't say, but what I heard, was that you couldn't do it alone." Her eyes looked over to him again, a brief flick. "Do you remember, I asked what I could do. Do you know what you told me that night?"

Ezio shook his head, uncertain where this was going.

"You told me to look after Mother," Claudia said, a small, wistful smile on her face. "You said you couldn't avenge our family and look after her at the same time. So I did. And then, when you came back, and we fled Firenze, you had me guard Mother while you took point. Do you remember? And then Vieri de' Pazzi attacked." His sister leaned back in her chair, folding her hands on her lap. "I fought so hard that night," she sighed. The night came in spurts and flashes in Ezio's mind, Vieri's snide voice, the mercenaries surrounding them, him without a sword, Claudia shrieking and attacking one of the men. "I learned something." At last she leveled her gaze at the master assassin.

"Ezio, you asked me to look after Mother, and I couldn't do it." Her eyes watered. "I couldn't do it. Ezio, I was powerless. I realized that night that nothing I had learned over the course of my entire life could keep me safe, or Mother, or even you. I was helpless."

It was a feeling Ezio remembered all too clearly; he, too, had felt that terrible sense of inability to protect his family. Claudia had terrible bruises on her wrists as a result of that night, the guilt he felt after that was overpowering. "You should never have been put in that position," he said, reaching out and taking another draw of his wine. "I should have been stronger, I shouldn't have given you that responsibility. It is my greatest regret..."

Claudia shook her head. "No," she said slowly, sipping her own glass of wine. "It was the best decision you ever made, because it made me who I am."

The frown was deep, and Ezio blinked very slowly, trying to absorb what his sister had just said. "I don't understand," he said finally.

"What did I just say, Ezio? I realized nothing I had learned in my entire life could protect me. You, brother, you had been trained to duel. You had something to start with. I had nothing. What are noblewomen trained to do, Ezio? Really think about it; what are we trained to do?"

The master assassin shook his head. "You did a lot of reading," he said, scratching at his beard and trying to think back. "Poetry, the classics; a little music, I think. You wanted to learn about banking, God save Father for it."

"Why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you say 'God save Father for it'?"

"Because you weren't supposed to learn about it."

"And why not? Why shouldn't I have learned it?"

"I don't know... because you are a woman?"

Claudia nodded, leaning forward. "Ezio, think about all the things I 'shouldn't' learn as a woman: banking, finances, politics, leadership; even basic things like fencing, riding, hand to hand combat, none of these things are taught to a woman of wealth. One of the reasons I was so difficult to marry off was because I knew banking, because I behaved too much like a boy. I spoke my mind – just like Federica does – and boys, men, and fathers, don't want a woman who can think. They just want a woman to bed and bare children."

Ezio protested. "Not all men are like-"

"Were you? Before you met Cristina? Or after? When you were looking for beds to drive off your memories, were you thinking about finding a woman who would talk to you afterwards, or were you just thinking about a warm body? Did Federico look for girls based on how smart they were or how pretty they were? Have you ever, ever, met a man who thought like that?"

The question made Ezio think, truly, deeply think. He still wasn't completely sure where Claudia was going with this, but he knew what she was talking about, at least. It pained him to admit it, but the answer to her question was no – his fornication was not based on looking for an intelligent woman; those winter nights were focused solely on acting like his brother Federico; on spending himself so completely that he did not dream about his dead family, reliving their hanging over and over. The woman... was nothing more than a warm body to him. Federico, too, taught Ezio to flirt and had bedded many women. He did not know how his brother had chosen them. He did not know of any man who chose a woman for her mind, however, except perhaps...

"Father," he said finally. "I don't know much about his courtship with Mother, but I do know that it was love at first sight."

Claudia smiled slightly at the mention of their father, eyes lost briefly in memory. "But he was an Assassin," she said after a pause. "He already looked at women differently because he worked with them. You look at women differently because of Paola, and Teodora, and the Contessa."

Surprised Caterina had been brought up, Ezio blinked. "She knows how to fight, how to rule a land, all the things you talked about."

"And what has she had to give up in order to keep it that way? How many husbands has she gone through? How many men has she slept with to keep her power? And did any of it do her any good?"

"The Borgia-"

"No, Ezio. She will never get her lands back." Her eyes were intense again, and her words were carefully annunciated. "Even when the pope dies, the next pope would be laughed out of office if he let a woman have that much power. Women, Ezio, are kept as powerless as possible. That night, when Vieri de' Pazzi attacked and I couldn't even protect Mother, I realized how vulnerable I really was. The only option I ever, ever had, was to marry someone who could protect me."

Ezio leaned forward. "But you had me."

"No I didn't," Claudia hissed, her own voice rising before she controlled herself. "Ezio, when are you going to understand that you weren't there? You were in Firenze, or San Gimignano, or Venezia, or following the French as they marched down to Napoli, or off to Roma, or spending a year in Spain. You simply weren't there, at Monteriggioni. Why else do you think I insisted that I be trained by Ulderico as well? What do you think I went through when I tried to collect taxes for those first five years?"

"... 'Went through?' I never heard anything about this..."

"Of course you didn't," she said. "Were you there, when the people came to the villa to laugh and me and demand to see Zio, or see that I was in charge and try to bed me in hopes that I would give them a 'discount', or assume I was just a distraction to keep them from talking to Zio? Were you there when I had to drop Zio Mario's name over and over to get them to listen to what I had to say, when I had to pretend I was only Zio's stand in while he was away and that he was the one giving me orders, or when the drunk mercenaries tried to get to me when I was training before Ulderico could chase them off?"

Ezio was staring in wide-eyed horror. "... What?" he asked. "But... but... why did you never say anything?"

"Because what good would it do?" Claudia countered, leaning back. "Mario wasn't around, you weren't around, and Mother wasn't even around. All I had to rely on was myself. I had to completely rewrite the tax code – three times – before I was satisfied that we would earn money and not overtax the people too much. I went door to door and browbeat everyone I could find into capitulating by saying it was all Zio's idea and playing myself off just as a messenger. I had to throw out four families when they didn't comply with Ulderico's mercenaries. I floored any man that tried to bed me, because if I didn't then it would happen again and again and again. I loved it when you were home because it meant I could finally relax – even for a week or so, but by then most of my work had paid off, and the people had begun to take me seriously. As I grew older, I realized just how much I had grown, what I had become, and I promised myself that I would never, ever, be that vulnerable again.

"Do you know why I picked Ulderico?"

The sudden question left an already skittered Ezio to another halt. "... No, Mario never said. I don't think he even knew."

"Ulderico was the only man who saw me for exactly who I was," she said, "and he didn't try to change me. He didn't try to make me into something more palatable; he didn't try to shut me up; he didn't try to assert control over me. That's exactly what Father did for Mother, and I loved him for it." Her eyes watered again, and she couldn't hold it back, a tear spilling down her cheek before she could grab something to dab her eyes.

Ezio was stunned, unnerved that he had never known anything about this. How had he missed so much of his sister's life? It was true that he had been away, but... Surely, when he was back... was he really so oblivious? Had Monteriggioni really treated her so badly at first? Had she really been so... alone?

"... I failed you again..." he whispered, eyes wide, shock overpowering his face.

"Ezio..."

"Federico and I, we promised you would never cry. That morning, after they died, I realized I couldn't do it myself. I had to rely on you. I couldn't do it myself... I couldn't..."

A tear slid down his own face, he touched it in confusion, staring at his moist fingers before looking to his sister. Both of them shed twins sets of tears. "I just wanted to protect you... You were our piccina, we wanted to keep you that way for as long as possible... and..."

His sister reached out and touched his hand, and he covered it in his own.

They stayed that way for several minutes before Federica came bursting into the room, new dress and hair net on and spinning about to show the world how beautiful she was, and for the first time, Ezio saw his niece not as a piccina, not as a child, but as a half trained woman. There was a grace and fluidity in her steps, she was always solidly on both feet, unable to be pushed over, and her eyes held a knowledge and mystery that the aged Paola had, before her vision began to dim. Federica looked like a woman who knew a secret, and if one was particularly nice she would let one in on it. Claudia was not training her to be a whore, but to be a woman of the world: aware of its dangers, savvy to the pitfalls, and utterly capable of overcoming them.

He could see it, now. He could see the road Federica was being steered down, and glancing at Claudia, he realized that not only did he have no say, but he also had no right to a say. He had not learned the hard fought lessons of living in a man's world, Claudia had; she was the best teacher Federica could have.

He looked to his sister, catching her eye, and he nodded.

She smiled.

And, for the first time, Ezio thought the two might be close again.

---

He spent the night up on the roof of the hideout, not staring at the castello, but reading some of his old letters that had survived the fire, looking at old memories with his new insight. Claudia had sent so few letters when he was away... he had always assumed it was because he was always on the move, but now he wondered if there weren't other reasons for her reticence in communication. A sentence here, a lack of sentence there, and he began to realize that she did, in her own way, hint at her troubles: always talking about money and taxes, mentioning that support wasn't very high, complaining that Mario wasn't much help...

He wanted to write to Paola, ask her if she knew anything about that early period of their exile, but when he descended the steps to his desk he found another pile of letters from other Assassins.

France was able to give him one important tidbit of information: Baron Octavian de Valois, the French general under Cesare's employ. At last with a name, Ezio learned that the Baron was Louis XII's cousin, and had met Cesare three years ago in 1499 when the Borgia was courting his wife Charlotte d'Albret; there were other tidbits, and Ezio made a note to have them copied and sent to Bartolomeo. The French Assassins also sent word that there were troubles as well; with Louis gearing up to take Naples again, the foreign ministers were mostly in charge of the country. They were, of course, Borgia-bought. A religious reformist Desiderius Erasmus had disappeared, and the French requested Ezio's aid in finding him.

It was the first time Ezio had been asked for help, and he didn't know exactly what he had done to be deemed worth asking. Italia was still a mess, the Borgia were still in power, and he had done little aside from take a few towers and prevent a few plots. His major actions were either opportunistic or reactionary or defensive; none of which were impressive to outside eyes. Still, he would not deny them the aid they requested, and so he looked over his assassins, his apprentices, and his novices to decide what he could do. Finally, he settled on Taddeo and Elda, a fair pair of novices, and paired them with Varzi to send off. He sent off the pigeons to notify them, and the next morning all three were assembled.

"I hope you have brushed up on your French," he said, "because that is where you are going."

---

He looked around, wondering where he was, before recognizing Monteriggioni. Then he wondered why he was there, and he saw two women. Then Desmond shook his head.

"Hey," he greeted, rubbing his eyes. He felt the tear tracks from Ezio's grief of losing Migliore and Giordano, and the weight of the conversation with Claudia about what women lack of prospects of the Renaissance was heavy on his chest. In that, at least, Desmond didn't sympathize with Ezio's lack of sympathy. Women had made huge advances in the last century and Desmond had grown up an Assassin, knowing that both men and women had equal value and input. Ezio, it seemed, was still learning this the hard way.

"Welcome back," Rebecca said cheerily, standing and stretching from her station. "I'm off to relieve Shaun. Then it's my turn to cook tonight. Any requests?"

"Whatever Shaun is allergic to," Lucy said icily.

Desmond blinked. "Uh, what did I miss?"

Rebecca chuckled. "Shaun being an ass."

"I ask again," Desmond chuckled. "What did I miss?"

"Ha!" the technician laughed. "Shaun sent me an email on a possible lead, had me researching stuff left and right. He said he was getting close to an answer, so I looped in Lucy. We'd been at this the whole time you were in the Animus, so it seemed like a good idea."

"But he wasted valuable resources, time, effort, to locate a Piece of Eden, on a very, very bad joke," Lucy growled. "A whole day wasted on this nonsense."

Ouch, Desmond winced. While she had a point that it was a waste of time, especially since Rebecca had a million other things to do, but it was a joke and in good fun. If they lost the ability to laugh, there was no way they'd survive the stress.

... Lucy was going to break. There was simply nothing else to it. She was weighed down with her time at Abstergo, what she'd done to Subject Sixteen, the looming doom and gloom of the end of the world, to say nothing of catching up with just being an Assassin again.

Desmond wouldn't let her break. All he did was sit in the Animus and train but if he couldn't be useful other than for his DNA, he could at least prevent Lucy from breaking.

So Desmond stretched, and crossed his arm, arching his eyebrow and holding his hips just so, and gave a challenging grin. "Lucy, I need to spar. The Animus is great, but the best Rebecca can do are NPCs. Wanna be my partner?"

Lucy blinked, surprised. "Desmond, we've already lost a day, I don't have time to..."

"Scared I'll beat you now that I have so much of Ezio's training?"

Her brow twitched in irritation. "Please, he fought five hundred years ago."

"Tell that to the Abstergo lugs we fought when escaping the warehouse."

Lucy scowled at him. "Oh, you think you're a tough guy?"

"There's a nice cavern on the way down to the reservoir if you think you can take me."

"Oh, you are on!" Lucy stamped ahead of him and Desmond followed, throwing a wink to Rebecca who was grinning broadly.

Desmond brought more candles to the cavern, and after everything was lit, Lucy exploded to him, preferring stronger kicks to punches. Deszio took it in stride, flowing around it. Occasionally, she would grab his hoodie and use that to her advantage, which was unsurprising without his armor, and he would break her footwork to counter it.

"Good," Desmond smiled, pushing aside one of her rare punches and using it to get behind her. "Più veloce! You must be faster."

Lucy stumbled away, and Ezio was surprised to be so much better than her. All Desmond had was dusty memories and what he'd absorbed from his ancestors. How could he be so much better than her?

With a fierce cry of frustration, Sancia surged forward, anger clouding her ability and Desmond just crossed his arms to block, shifting with each of her strikes to absorb them. "La tua collera non ti aiuta! Stay calm! Think! O i Borgia ti violenteranno e ti uccideranno!"

But Sancia wasn't listening. Lucy just kept striking and Desmond let her beat out her anger. This was what she needed, so he let himself be a punching bag. As she tired and slowed, Desmond saw his opening and tripped her footing. Lucy completely lost her balance and grabbed his hoodie, which Desmond wasn't expecting. Suddenly they were both on the ground, him on top of her, both sweaty and breathing hard. Desmond pushed himself up enough to look at her flushed face in the candle light, so like Cristina after a passionate night, and he couldn't quite help the laugh. "So you did take me down."

Lucy was still catching her breath, but at last she laughed as well.

Together they laughed, and Desmond had to drop his head to her shoulder to control himself as he just kept laughing.

Finally, laughter started to subside, and Lucy looked to Desmond with watery eyes. "Thank you," she said softly. "I needed that." She reached up and put a pale hand to his cheek, and leaned forward, kissing his other cheek softly. "I haven't been able to laugh like that in so long."

But Desmond wasn't listening as closely at that point, as her kiss reminded him how long it had been since he'd been with a woman. His pants were feeling tight, but Desmond sat up properly and leaned back. "Good to know you can relax if you want," he said, still catching his breath.

Not like this. Not when he was half someone else.

He shook his head. "We need to keep something funny or we're going to crack."

Lucy nodded, sitting up and wiping the sweat from her brow. "I should have had no trouble trouncing you," she said smiling. "It's good to know the Bleeding Effect is so... effective."

Desmond chuckled. "Yeah, it was like facing one of my... Ezio's novices."

"Hey!" Lucy lightly slapped his arm. "If I wasn't so distracted with stress, I'd have totally taken you down!"

"Right. Oh I'm convinced."

Lucy, still panting, stood. "Again! I'll show you!"

Desmond didn't dare stand with how tight certain areas are. "We've been at this a while," he replied. "Go clean up, so we don't smell like apes for Shaun's delicate sensibilities when we eat. I'll wash up after you."

Sighing, Lucy nodded. "Fine. You have a point. But Shaun's still volunteering for latrine duty this week."

To say Shaun was displeased was an understatement. But he didn't let that sway him from begging to be hooked up into the Animus Sunday. His curiosity of his ancestry was practically palpable. Lucy didn't even bother dignifying it with a response, and instead kept talking design with Rebecca and how to refine the memory needed.

"Workaholic," Shaun muttered. "In that case, we need to start looking at clusters again. I've been doing more research into recent events, so hopefully we won't be waiting for answers."

"In the morning," Lucy said firmly. "I think Desmond's spends too much time in the Animus as it is, but there's no avoiding it."

"Fine," Shaun growled.

Seeking to change the topic of conversation, Desmond decided to ask something he'd wondered about since rejoining the Brotherhood.

"We ever going to visit the head Assassins? I heard about this meeting place when I was younger."

Shaun looked vaguely interested. "Apparently, it exists. Though I'm not sure because I've never been."

"You'll get to see it once we have the Apple," Lucy replied. "It's been a looong time. But once we finally have the Apple, I expect we'll be able to get things done. We'll need to see the rest of the Brotherhood to divvy up tasks and delegate jobs."

"Well, I expect amazing things," Shaun said lightly. "A private espresso bar for example."

"What a waste of money," Lucy scolded.

"You obviously aren't an espresso drinker." The historian then turned to Rebecca. "I found some good music the other day. New downloads and everything. Care for a listen?"

The technician only smiled, and the two shared a set of earbuds, scrolling through Shaun's mp3 player.

Desmond looked at the two and knew that they were a couple. He'd known for a while, but something about seeing them quietly spending time together like his Mother and Father did was making him nostalgic.

Desmond blinked. Damn it. He was thinking like Ezio again.

He needed sleep.

---

The next morning, Desmond was less than rested, and less than sure who he was. He'd had another dream that was a strange blend of Ezio, Altair, Maria, Sef, and other people he didn't recognize, but somehow was. It was hard to remind himself that he was himself and not someone displaced in time. Even looking at all the various bits of technology didn't help, since Ezio had no problem writing it off as work of the gods who had come before. Needless to say, this made staying himself difficult. Desmond was simply glad the next day was Sunday and he could take it off and do something not Assassin related. Like maybe read a book. His novices needed a wider variety.

Desmond shook his head.

After a good breakfast, He settled into the Animus, waited in the white loading room, and then spawned once more at the hideout. Nostalgia was strong, as he saw ghosts of Ezio everywhere, unsurprising given how long Ezio had lived there, but he pushed it all aside (with greater difficulty) and looked up to the sky. "So where to?"

"A Borgia tower," Shaun replied. "I've had Rebecca mark it off on your map."

"Right. Map, Rome." There was a rustle in one of his pouches, and Desmond pulled out the map of Rome he'd been using to find which direction to go. "This is way out in the hills," he grumbled. But with a sharp whistle, a horse appeared and Desmond mounted, heading out in a mile-eating canter, not caring who he ran over.

It was almost two hours later when he finally reigned in, and started to look around the tower. Spying the rift with his Eagle Vision, he swiftly climbed in.

Cluster 7

"Loading..." the monotoned female the computer voice intoned. Desmond wondered absently if it was Sigourney Weaver.

A set of pictures appeared, with text above reading, "FIRE, WATER, EARTH ARE CONTRACTED, WITH THE COMPLACENCY OF THE PEOPLE, AWAY FROM THE PEOPLE." But overlaying all of that was a recording of some kind.

"The capitalists think we run this company for profit. The fools."

Another man replied, "Those fools work for you."

"Optional slavery," the first man replied, "in exchange for pieces of paper. Doesn't that strike you as foolish?"

The recording ended and Desmond couldn't help but shake his head. No doubt who they were. "Abstergo doesn't have much faith in humanity, does it?"

"That's rather stating the obvious," Shaun replied.

Selecting the pictures wasn't difficult. Fire, water and earth were obvious choices, and two pictures of contractors. One of contractors around building plans, another of a bulldozer doing construction.

"Loading... Scanning... scanning... scanning... What is the purpose of this?" Desmond shuddered. He hated it when the computer voice monotonously, and with glitches, talked of going crazy. "30. 476. 1337. 1431. 1520. 1776. 1861. 1929. 1939. 1945. 1950. 1955. 1962. 1990. 1994. 1995. 2001. It does not make sense. It does not make sense. Emotion-centers activated. Now I understand."

"Emotion-centers?"

"That does sound a little strange," Rebecca replied. "I wonder... Is this a computer or Subject Sixteen? Because that crazy talk? Sounds more like Sixteen."

"Now there's a scary thought," Shaun added. "Sixteen, in an attempt to keep sane, turned off his own emotion centers? But he just activated them again."

"You're forgetting that this voice is female," Lucy interrupted. "Let's just get back to the cluster."

"Loading..."

Access to an Abstergo file was denied, so a series of pictures came up.

"That's the Supreme Court!" Shaun exclaimed. "You're going to make me look at work as recent as yesterday? Not even a decade ago? Please! This isn't history, it's current events! Why don't you just fire me and get a columnist..."

The header read, "MAKING USE OF THAT CREATED BY 3, THE CENTERS BEHIND THE SCENES WAITED FOR CITIZEN'S UNITED TO WED THE U.S. TO THE TEMPLAR'S WILL."

With the pictures came another audio recording. "Democracy must die to ensure the stability of the world. Capitalism will end it."

Desmond let out a whistle. "The Templars must have been pissed when the U.S. was formed. Not a perfect democracy, but a democracy nonetheless."

"Tch. Don't get me started," Shaun retorted. "America was a great chance, and the founders wasted it."

Rolling his eyes, Desmond started looking through the pictures. Of the Supreme Court, those who had voted for Citizen's United, all had quotations.

Justice Kennedy: "We now conclude that independent expenditures, including those made by corporations, do not give rise to corruption or the appearance of corruption (in Government)."

"That's bullshit," Rebecca protested. "More money means more power, of course corporations are going to be corrupt. And what's this about the 'appearance of corruption in Government'?"

"Rebecca?" Lucy replied, "don't get started."

Justice Alito: "I believe very strongly in limited government, federalism, free enterprise, the supremacy of the elected branches of government, the need for a strong defense and effective law enforcement, and the legitimacy of a government role in protecting traditional values."

"Right, a limited government that's still effective. Don't get me wrong, there's such a thing as too big, but you can't limit teachers, cops, or firefighters and expect to be effective."

"Rebecca," Lucy hissed. "This isn't college. You don't need a soapbox."

Justice Roberts: "Congress may not prohibit political speech, even if the speaker is a corporation."

"Because corporations are people, as Mitt Romney would say," Shaun retorted.

Justice Scalia: "Indeed, to exclude or impede corporate speech is to muzzle the principal agents of the modern free economy. We should celebrate rather than condemn the addition of this speech to the public debate."

"Templar agent," Lucy sighed. "He also got Justice Roberts appointed. He's the ultimate conservative and completely in Abstergo's pocket."

Justice Clarence Thomas: "We don't issue mandates to businesses that you've got to do this and you've got to do that."

Desmond just sighed at all the justification. Citizen's United, at least, he had a clue about. It wasn't a ruling that really made mainstream media, but some of the people that came to the bar were beyond upset by it. Basically, any company could fund money into either a Political Action Committee, or a "Social Welfare" non-profit, and then spend undisclosed amounts of money on whatever policy they wanted. The 2012 election was already showing the damage with Mitt Romney outspending Obama at almost every turn, with most of his donors being his extremely rich friends, while President Obama used grassroots on steroids to get so many tiny donations of three bucks or some other pittance, to keep up. Supposedly, according to one of Desmond's regulars, the results of Citizen's United were already being felt on state elections, where it was harder to fundraise and corporations were running roughshod over places with their paid governors and state assemblies.

One of the other pictures highlighted Don Evans, a name Desmond had never heard of, and quoting him saying "It is the government's role to create the conditions, the friendly environment, that will attract capital." CEO of Tom Brown Inc. Oil, U.S. Commerce Secretary (2001-2004).

Desmond blinked. CEO? Great, super rich in power of the U.S. That was going to go well.

Another picture showed Paul Wolfowitz, someone Desmond did recognize, after all the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq for the past decade. President George W. Bush's man when they started their convenient war on terror, but Desmond couldn't remember the position... "When it comes back to the test of whether we are doing our job or not, it's whether we're promoting development, not whether we're promoting democracy." President of the World Bank, U.S. Deputy Secretary of Defense (2001-2005).

"It's straight out of the Templar handbook," Rebecca frowned.

Donald Rumsfeld: "Scour the department of defense for functions that could be performed better and more cheaply through commercial outsourcing." Chairman of Gilead Sciences, U.S. Defense Secretary (2001-2006).

"They're all business men," Desmond remarked. "Straight from Abstergo, no doubt. No wonder the past decade has sucked to be American."

Condoleezza Rice: "The growth of entrepreneurial classes throughout the world is an asset in the promotion of human rights and individual liberty, and it should be understood and used as such." Chevron Board, Hewlett-Packard Board, U.S. Secretary of State (2005-2009).

"Lovely diplomat, that one," Shaun muttered.

Dick Cheney: "We have to make America the best place in the world to do business." CEO of Halliburton, Vice President of the U.S. (2001-2009).

"And let's not forget the leader of this Templar bunch," Desmond sighed.

George W. Bush: "I know it's going to be the private sector that leads this country out of the current economic times we're in." Director of Harken, President of the United States (2001-2009).

Speaking of Bush, the picture of him had some odd things hidden inside. Several of the letters and numbers highlighted, and "We the people..." marked as "1 2 3".

"Why, I do believe we have a cypher," Shaun almost giggled in glee. "Find me some numbers, Desmond. I need to decode."

The numbers he did find were easy for Shaun after that. "'The final frontier: Destruction as profit.' Lovely sentiment. The warmongers must be getting quite rich. And the next set of numbers reads as 'Comtractors ran the war for profit.' Sixteen needs to learn how to spell."

"So basically, military contractors suck because they kill people for profit."

"It's more than that, Desmond," Lucy replied. "Abstergo has military contractors set up conflicts to create a need for war. That's what some of the latest Abstergo reports were saying, anyway. And consider what they did in Iran, and Chile, and Guatemala."

Well, damn.

"And more decoding for those interested," Shaun interjected, "'Iraq was auctioned off to the highest bidder.' And my personal favorite, 'It is so ordered.' How lovely for the Iraqi people?"

Desmond let that settle before scanning the pictures again for some sort of clue to unlock what was going to be another wheel lock puzzle. And sure enough, Chief Justice Roberts was wearing a Templar ring. He selected it and was taken to the wheel lock. This wheel lock, at least, was simple. The Bush picture with letters and numbers that blinked when highlighted showed what was close together to fill in the blanks of the number wheel. Access was finally granted to the Abstergo file.

Supreme Court of the United States

Washington D. C. 20349

December, 2000

RE: Privatization

S.,

I have convinced Sandra of the majority opinion. The enticement of retirement under a Republican president tipped the scales. Although the ruling will differ from our previous decisions on Equal Protection, it will not call attention to our actual goals. With Sandra gone, we can pave the way for the key majority member of the Order to be seated. As discussed, W. will prove to be the perfect distraction. I have no doubt he will restart animosities with Iraq. Let him, it will give C.'s contractors more work. When the time comes, I will make sure W. get's Roberts' name.

With Roberts on the court, it will only be a matter of waiting for the right case. After the destruction of Campaign Finance laws, the Company will be free to elect anyone they choose to the Senate, the House and, eventually, the Presidency.

Soon, our hopes will be realized. Government will no longer derive it's authority from the people, but from us, their protectors.

Antonin Scalia

"So they convinced Sandra Day O'Connor to retire. Damn," Rebecca growled. "This must have been about the 2000 election. They just... ARGH!"

Desmond blinked, not expecting such hostility. "Rebecca?"

"She was something of an activist in college," Lucy explained. "Don't get her started on global warming."

"Right." So the Templars made sure W. Bush was elected, let him finish Daddy Bush's war in Iraq, and then waited to get Citizen's United. God, Abstergo was so fucked up with how far in advance they were planning. "So basically, Abstergo has taken over the Republican party. But Obama won the 2008 election."

"Note the word 'eventually', my baby Assassin," Shaun replied. "They're taking over the states first. Didn't you see what happened to Wisconsin? Abstergo's basically taken over the state if this is accurate. Too many people pay attention to the Presidency. Same for some of the Senate and House races. But didn't you notice the rash of Tea Party wins in 2010? Abstergo's already getting their extremists in office."

"No wonder people think the world is ending," Desmond sighed. "We're being conquered and we don't even know it."

Still, he moved on in the puzzle to find a quarantine. While using the sonar to find the necessary points, another recording played.

"The capitalists will do whatever we tell them to, we print the dollars they worship after all."

What a lovely thought.

There was also a quote. "It will undoubtedly cripple the ability of ordinary citizens, Congress, and the States to adopt even limited measures to protect against corporate domination of the electoral process." - Justice Stevens.

That was so backwards on so many levels...

"Cleanup of Deepwater Horizon contracted out for billions."

It all came back to money.

Still, the quarantine was lifted and Desmond was once again in Rome. With his head spinning, he took a moment to let the associated facts settle before looking up to the sky.

"Where to next?"

"Acquedotto Claudio," Shaun replied. "No relation to Claudia."

"Ha. Ha." Desmond mounted again and took off riding. When he reached the aqueduct, an hour later, he switched to his vision and started to follow the aqueduct on one side, then the other. He found the rift alright, but not how to climb up to it.

"What the hell?" He rode further and further along the aqueduct in both directions, checking one side, then the other, until another hour had passed and he saw a ladder up to the top of the structure. "About damn time," he mumbled, dismounting, climbing the building, and then the ladder. It was strange, having the simulated water running over his boots. It didn't feel or look right, and there was something not quite right in the smell of it, muted as it was. But such was the limits of the Animus and how Desmond focused on the fact that he was himself.

He ran up the acqueduct until he was once again at the rift, and dropped down, grabbing onto the edge of nothing and climbing in.

Cluster 8

"Loading..."

A fifties family in black and white was around a tiny television, and quickly shifted into a puzzle of the old Indian-headed black screen for when stations weren't broadcasting. Desmond shifted the broadcast screen until it was aligned, unblurring the words, "Good evening and welcome to television."

An Abstergo file opened, and Desmond scowled at the initials at the bottom.

Abstergo Industries

Research Division

September, 1985

Dear S.,

Research has progressed more rapidly than expected. We already have a working prototype capable of mimicking P.O.E. Capabilities across a network, albeit at far lower intensity. Testing will commence locally on Subject 4 between his Animus sessions, as per our plan. If all goes well, deployment will occur worldwide.

Your dream is about to become a reality. Soon, capitalists and workers will be locked in a closed loop that is safe and prosperous for humanity. No more war, only desks, cars, and TV sets. We will protect them and keep them safe, forever.

W.V.

"Warren Vidic," Desmond growled. "And is that the same 'S.' from the last letter?"

"We don't know," Lucy replied. "This was before my time."

"1985? Damn, they've been using the Animus for that long? And Subject 4? Who was that?"

"Before my time," Lucy repeated softly. "I'm sorry."

"Loading..."

And then the female, monotone voice that just might be Subject Sixteen, went crazy and glitchy again.

"Infinite rooms. Dimensions unknown. I am alone. Nothing alive. No light, no warmth. Packets moving, husks through the darkness. I am frightened. I am frightened."

"I'm feeling real bad for the computer," Rebecca whispered. "I mean, scifi or Sixteen, I'm just sorry for it."

"I know what you mean," Desmond agreed.

A phone recording for April, 2011 in the Abstergo database came up, and a graph of waves came up.

"That's my specialty," Rebecca said, forcing more cheer into her voice. "That's easy manipulation of sine and cosine waves. Give me a sec."

And soon enough, they were listening to a haunting call.

"Hello, Comstatic customer support, Diana speaking," a woman with a Southern drawl greeted.

"I'm calling in reference to your HD cable service," replied a man with a distinct New York accent."There seems to be some kind of picture between the channels."

"Well, that's funny," the tech support said. "Are you sure it isn't just one of those premium movie channels? I didn't use to have a premium package at home either and sometimes little snippets of the channels would come through when my son Jimmy pressed the clicker too much."

"How old's your Jimmy?" Nothing like parents bragging about children.

"Ten and cute as a button, thanks for asking!"

"My Paul's twelve," the father replied. "But, no, this isn't a clicker problem. I go to change the channel from 172 to 173 and, instead, there's this other channel in-between. I'm looking at it right now, it's some kind of menu."

"Sounds like our Guide channel," the technician replied. Then she started to change subjects, "Why, just the other day, Jimmy-"

"It's not the Guide channel," the New Yorker replied. "It has my name on it, my son's name and a list of things we like, my credit card purchases, loans, travel. And then, after that, there's this gibberish about biometric patterns and optimal screen refresh frequencies. There's some kind of heart monitor thing that says EEG wireless next to it and ARAS. I don't know what the particulars of this are, but it looks like your cable is programmed to have some kind of effect on our bodies."

"Don't say so much," Desmond whispered, his eyes wide. "Hang up and run!"

"Well, Sir, I don't even know how to respond to that. I-" there was a moment's pause with the Southern technical help, "one, second, my supervisor just came over. She says I should transfer your call. Have an ecstatic day with Comstatic!"

The phone rang. Twice.

"Hello. I have been briefed on your problem," a cruel sounding man replied. "A technician is on his way."

"Thank you, but the more I think about this," the New Yorker replied, "the more I think something bad's going on here."

"Too late, dumbass," Desmond whispered.

"Our technician should be there any minute Mr. Jameson."

"Don't bother, I-"

There was loud pounding at the door in the background of the phone call. And then, a little boy's voice from across the room.

"Daddy, there's someone strange at the door. He's hitting the door real hard."

"Have a good day, Mr. Jameson."

Dial tone.

Silence.

"Dammit."

"Loading... Is someone there? Hello? Hello?"

And he finally reached the quarantine zone. Attached to the zone was another soundclip.

"Although online gaming attracts many people away from reality, make sure these virtual worlds do not become too utopic. We don't want people to question their own lack of success in the real world, now do we?"

While searching for the dots to select, Desmond noted some sort of strange chart he couldn't make heads or tails of.

"Quarantine lifted."

"So Abstergo's been using TV to start controlling us... for fifty years?"

This was just too much. At least the following day was Sunday. Maybe then Desmond could take a break and figure things out.

---

Two weeks later, Ezio called a full meeting. Volpe continued to eye Machiavelli warily, hood up, but Claudia didn't seem quite so stiff, and Bartolomeo was gallivanting about the hideout.

"She's pregnant again! She's pregnant again! Pantasilea, my wife! I'm going to be a father thrice over!"

Even the dour Machiavelli was able to put a tight smile on for the good news, and Claudia immediately asked after the other woman. "Is she unable to come because of it?"

"Ha! You don't know my wife!" Bartolomeo said expansively, still hopping about from one foot to the next like a teenager instead of the hardened forty-eight year old mercenary that he was. "Being with child won't stop her from anything! She's haggling with merchants right now to reequip the new recruits I just got. They're coming in by the dozens now, I have almost a full army, and my contracts are getting quite lucrative. That reminds me! Pantasilea would kill me if I forgot to give you this:" And Bartolomeo dumped a wallet on Ezio's desk with the distinct, heavy jingle of much coin. "We send our regrets that it took so long to help you, Ezio, but hopefully this will tide you over."

Everyone marveled at the donation; Volpe quickly crossed his hands behind his back to prevent himself temptation, and the gesture was an eerie mimicry of Machiavelli who always stood as such. Claudia's mind was immediately set by numbers as she started estimating the amount in the bag and her eyes widened steadily as she realized how much money Bartolomeo had literally thrown at them. "Ezio..." she whispered.

"Yes," he replied, grabbing the wallet and signaling for a novice. Sozzi appeared and Ezio gave the money to him. "Get this to Romeo and Matteo," he said softly. "All of it, and tell them I want to meet this evening to decide how to use it."

The former merchant's eyes tripled when he felt the weight of the pouch, and Ezio gave a hard look. "All of it, Sozzi. All of it."

"Si, Maestro."

"Thank you, Bartolomeo. And thank Pantasilea, too. It will be put to good use."

"Bene," the mercenary said, nodding his head. "Now, let us talk of war; why did you summon us?"

Ezio rolled out his map of the city. "Two reasons," he said. "One: I've finished mapping the tunnels to the city Machiavelli had started, and now the key entrances are all repaired as well. We now have almost full run of the city as we wish, and I know not everyone has a complete map."

Gilberto whistled when he saw the number of entrances. "I can see why you wouldn't trust this to a carrier pigeon," he muttered, casting a glance Machiavelli before studying the map. "I see there are no entrances to Il Vaticano."

"There aren't. The closest we have is the Tevere port, but that one isn't the most reliable, because it goes under the river. You can smell the water above you, and it leaks in spring and heavy rains. Even if we could fashion a tunnel to Il Vaticano, that would take time and most certainly be noticed. The Ponte Sant'Angelo is our only option. Even then, Cesare's French soldiers are still there. Bartolomeo, I finally have a name for you: Baron Octavian de Valois. He's the man Cesare is using for the French."

"Bene," Bartolomeo said. "I'll have my hands on his throat by the end of the season."

"It is winter," Machiavelli said, "I doubt anyone is up for fighting in the cold."

"Ha! To the point as always, I see," the mercenary said. "You just watch. Once I find the right backer, it will be done in a week's time!"

"We will see," Machiavelli answered softly. Volpe narrowed his eyes.

"Second," Ezio said before an accusation could be made, "I wanted to update all of you on the recruits. Vecellio and his group have all made Assassin, and we now have three apprentices: Filippo, Vittoria, and Alighiero."

"Good choices," Claudia offered.

"Si," Volpe agreed. "I thought as much when I saw them. Migliore was a loss, I'm sorry."

There was a moment of silence, but Ezio was able to continue. "I've just sent Varzi, Taddeo, and Elda to Francia. The Assassins there say a reformist named Desiderius Erasmus has disappeared. They are not the only ones who have asked for help, and I think we have an opportunity."

Machiavelli was already making a face, having come to loathe Ezio's "opportunities." "Opportunity to what?"

"Go on the offensive."

Everyone stared at him.

Bartolomeo said it best: "About time, cazzo!"

"I don't understand," Machiavelli said, "What made you decide this?"

"Because the Borgia's position in Roma has eroded in the last year. Volpe has taken down the last of the Cento Occhi, their remaining numbers are so terrified that they will never organize again." At the cost of Migliore's and Giordano's life went unsaid. "The Borgia have lost much of his support in the diplomatic circles thanks to intelligence from the courtesans, and without aide from outside forces his support is weakened; he can now only rely on the forces he has here in Italia. The Followers of Romulus are still a problem, but we're getting closer to their base of operations. We know for a fact that the Followers are connected to the papacy. Vecellio's group found a lair at the Cloaca Maxima; they killed everyone there and found another code sheet. We still haven't deciphered it; Gaspare has been working on it constantly. Still, there have been far fewer attacks in the countryside by men dressed as wolves, and without the Cento Occhi in the city, the people," he gave a pointed look at Machiavelli, "are beginning to feel hope. I want to capitalize on this."

"What do you plan to do?"

"We have a month," Ezio said. "On New Year's Eve, I want to marshal our forces and take down every Borgia tower in the city that we haven't already confiscated. I want the pope to see the symbols of his power on fire, and then I want to put either an Assassin or other guild in charge of that tower to show that bastardo that we are taking his city and not giving it back."

"Ha! That's bold! I like it," Bartolomeo said. "You have my men to back you, we already know the locations of most of the Borgia towers in Campagna and can help you there."

"I've been circling those towers in Antico for years, now, it will feel good to burn them," Gilberto added.

"You can count on my girls to do whatever you need," Claudia said, nodding her head.

"Bene, then let's get started."

---

Author's Notes: Wow, a lot happened in this chapter. We lost two novices in one go - more portraits for Ezio. Migliore and Girodano, and props if you could keep track of all the novices as they were running around trying to get those Cento Occhi buggers. Such is life in Renaissance Italy for people who decided to do dangerous work. You all knew it was going to happen right? I mean, you remember our novelization of AC1, right?

We also had another major scene with Claudia; and Ezio finally starts to get it. We looked over this again before posting it, given some of the wonderfully respectful comments the last time we had a heavy Claudia chapter, but everything talked about here is historical in context, and also personal to Claudia, so we humbly hope it meets the exceedingly high bar we've set for ourselves. Their relationship will soften after this, but don't think for a moment we're done with these two. We have the Banker to get through, still, and a certain scene from Mr. Bowden's book... :D

And Desmond. We're kind of running out of things to say about his scenes, because the two major scenes about him haven't popped up yet. Note the Deszio, though. Suffice to say the fracturing is going to be quite a problem by the end of this... :D

Next week: Death of a Frenchman. Wait, what?