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.

15. Search for a Painter

Part Fifteen: Search for a Painter

In celebration of the one year anniversary of Pope Alexander VI's death, everyone agreed to a race at Il Colosseo. Claudia and her courtesans provided food and entertainment, Bartolomeo and his men had a massive betting pool, and the thieves and assassins slowly eyed each other to determine competition.

Volpe bowed out of the race, claiming to be too old to win and put everyone to shame. Pushing sixty, Ezio knew the wily old fox was no longer fast enough for a competition this fierce. Ezio himself wasn't sure how well he would place with all of these young men and women, but he stretched and promised himself to do his best.

The route was the most difficult one ever conceived, starting at the main stage and slowly making way to the highest reaches of the circular structure. While the thieves and apprentices all gawked at the plan, Ezio's sharp eyes were already tracing around the Colosseo, planning routes and noticing difficulties. The race would end with a Leap of Faith, decided on by the assassins, and Bartolomeo's bets immediately doubled or tripled as the case may be as men went off to find enough hay to make the landing safe.

Smirking, Claudia was designated as the starter, and once all the thieves and recruits were set, Claudia raised a simple fan, twirling it around in an elegant pattern, before snapping it closed. Everyone was off like a shot, except Ezio, who took his time to visualize where he was going yet again and following his plan. He leapt up some minor stage scenery and up to one of the massive stone walls, hopping from it to another to another, always pitching himself slightly higher until he reached the second level of the Colosseo. From there he found the broken column he had planned on and leapt up to it and then to the beam above it. There were a series of beams and poles he worked his way through, several of the apprentices and thieves below oblivious to his work. Eventually he ran out of beams, but the jutting wall of the last bit of wood was ruined enough to provide several handholds for him to scale. It took him to the third level, and he grunted in satisfaction at the excellent time he was making. He ran along the upper wall of the level, circling around and long since lost track of where the competition was. Enjoying himself thoroughly, he kept his eyes to the right and waited for the wall he wanted. Finding it, he hopped down to the floor of the third level for all of two steps before leaping up a partially ruined wall and jumped off to the right. He missed on his first attempt because of his bad shoulder, but he made it on his second, and pulling himself up to the fourth level. He sprinted full tilt down the aisle before seeing a set of barrels long forgotten. Did that give him enough reach...?

Leaping, it gave him just enough height. Three tries later he was on the uppermost facade of the Colosseo. The view was breathtaking, and he took a moment to look out at the evening shadows and golden sunset, catching his breath and marveling at the city of Rome layed out before him. It was magnificent, and he found himself smiling for the rest of the run as he darted around the circumference of the building, eyes catching new vistas or details.

He was all alone when he found the jump point. He looked down at the enormous pile of hay and saw everyone massed around it, waiting. He smiled, bowed, and took his leap, flying like an eagle for three breaths before gravity pulled at him, and he landed within the sweet dry scent of hay, barreling deeper and deeper until he hit bottom.

It took him several minutes to climb out, but when he did Bartolomeo and the other engulfed him in a massive hug.

"I'm rich now!" Bartolomeo shouted. "I was right to bet on you! Ha! Those bastardi will gripe over this for weeks! You won! You won!"

Ezio rolled his bad shoulder, out of breath and a little shocked, but seven minutes later, when the rest of the runners started to arrive and dredge up the courage to leap, Ezio was more than slightly smug. The party that followed was full of grand stories about the race, quickly becoming the stuff of legends, and everyone slowly migrated to the assassin training routes below ground. Rosa and Ugo were already trying out the different routes set up, Vittoria and the other apprentices doing it for fun – even the clumsy Sancia did much better than she had at the beginning. More races, this time with horses, were staged, and Ezio pulled from the crowds slightly, bottle of wine in hand. Standing at the end of the race, his bets placed, he looked up to the overreaching beams, knowing they lead to an old temple. Poking around the old ruins for years now, Ezio had found several routes that lead to the ancient Roman tomb, and made his way there, stopping as he did at the odd relief. The short hallway went nowhere, only to the stone bust. The rest of the Colosseo was not like this; all the halls and rooms had a purpose, from holding lions of old to storing stage props to being changing rooms to old prisons for gladiators. Decoration abounded, true, but there were no short halls that lead to stone bust reliefs, and Ezio stared at it, drinking his wine, and wondering what it was for.

Sighing, he left the mystery for another day and rejoined the party.

---

The days grew shorter and chillier, and Federica became tense with anticipation as her sixteenth birthday approached, and when November came there was no stopping her.

"I get to learn to fight! At last, I get to learn to fight!"

And, just to make her mad, Ezio and Claudia agreed to put her on the thief rotation first. For two months they heard nothing but vitriol from her, and they could only grin in response. Two months later when she rotated to Bartolomeo, she found that her sense of balance was consistently praised, and the Auditore siblings only grinned at her marvel.

Claudia's birthday was spent at a lavish restaurant, the two talking constantly and reminiscing and enjoying each other's company in a way they never had before. They talked finances and both were more than pleased they actually had money; they both agreed to split the surplus amongst the different guilds across different accounts for emergency use.

As spring rolled around a new set of requests came from across Europe, and Ezio paired his apprentices with recruits to give them better experiences. He kept Abate, Candida, Taddeo, and Elda back for the moment, wanting to see how they had improved. He had seen noticeable improvement in certain recruits: Vittoria and Alighiero and Filippo always made consistent progress and were rising stars of the Order. Sozzi had begun specializing in archery and climbing when his head wasn't spent learning about the intricate web Ezio and Claudia had made of their finances. Sancia had found a niche in eavesdropping, and her confidence in that had given her the chance to improve in other areas, while her new husband Gaspare was a gifted decoder and forger.

Those four, however, he had never gotten a good sense of.

Even after a focused attempt to break Abate of his ideas about women and his need to follow orders, Ezio had only seen improvement on the latter and not the former. The man was always bragging about his conquests and snubbing the female assassins, and the grandmaster was becoming hard pressed to see how he could resolve the problem. Taddeo and Elda had easily spent the most time abroad, and Ezio didn't have a good understanding of how their skills had grown, and Candida was, in some ways, much like Claudia, driven by her work and closed off to any and all emotion. That worried the grandmaster, and he hoped the more intimate environment with the emptier hideout would help.

He put them through all their paces and discretely followed them as he sent them out on missions. Everyone but Taddeo were skilled climbers, and everyone had taken their lessons on blending in to heart. Elda was behind in combat – something Abate noted with smug appraisal, and the philanderer was particularly skilled at throwing knives.

Ezio noticed that sending Elda off by herself left her much more timid and uncertain, even after over two years of training. He pulled her aside and asked what the matter was.

"It's nothing important, Mentore," she said softly. "It's just... Taddeo and I are a good match. He is big and strong where I am small and weak, and having him around to protect me if things go wrong give me the confidence to be my best."

Cocking his head to the side, he said, "You know that he will not always be by your side, yes?"

"I know, Mentore, and we are both working on it. I am better now than I was, and I can do the work when I'm paired with almost anyone else. Taddeo is just my favorite."

"You said almost. Whom do you have a problem with?"

The former nun flushed bright red, simply saying, "Messer Abate. His language is vulgar, and I do not like how he touches me."

Ezio perked. "How does he touch you?" he asked softly.

"Like... like... Mentore, I am married to the Lord."

Angered, Ezio marched immediately to Rosa in Fiore to discuss the problem with Claudia and brainstorm ideas on how to fix what was becoming an important problem. They both agreed that, after two years of training alongside women and watching them be treated with respect and equality, that his failure to learn called for drastic measures, and soon they came up with a radical, almost cruel lesson to inflict on him.

Ezio escorted him to Rosa in Fiore, Abate already smiling and catcalling the ladies, expressing to Ezio how much he loved training there.

"If that is the case," Ezio said with Florentine irony, "Then you may just love this next assignment." Knocking on a door, Ezio led Abate into Claudia's office. She stood and walked around him, giving him a thorough appraisal that Abate just shrugged off with a grin.

"Like what you see, Maestra?" he asked.

"Yes, you'll do," Claudia said, rubbing her chin. "You'll need to shave off that rat you call a mustache, and you'll need a wig, but with enough make up you'll be just what we're looking for. The legs need to be shaved, too, probably, and we can't hide the muscles, but it will work."

Abate looked aghast. "Shave my legs? What..."

"Welcome to the Rosa in Fiore, Innocenzo," Claudia said with a cruel smirk, using his given name casually. "We'll use your first name here, Innocenzo, and after you've made yourself presentable, I'll introduce you to your target."

"Changed? What? Mentore what's...?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Ezio asked. "You're the brothels latest whore."

"I'm what?"

"We'll talk later, go get changed. I've been told the corsets can be difficult for new courtesans."

Claudia shoved him into a side room, and returned, and both took a certain amount of black pleasure listening to his cried of protest as the girls of the brothel made him into a proper courtesan. The entire process took two hours, filled with colorful curses and threats and decidedly high pitched shrieks, but, in the end, Abate emerged. His broad chest was on open display, nipples and all because of the low-cut corset to differentiate him from the women; his mustache was gone as well as his fuzz, blush and eye makeup littered his face, and his wig was perhaps a little small for him if the grimace he had was any indication. Very attractive legs peaked out from the high slit of the skirt, shaved and washed and oiled.

"You make a perfect courtesan, Aba—Innocenzo," Ezio said with a feral grin. "I'm sure I have a painter friend who would love to talk to you."

"Mentore, you cannot be serious!"

"I am perfectly serious," Ezio said, amusement gone from his voice. "The target is an archbishop who enjoys having men in his life, and his fetish is for tall dark men with narrow chins. You fit the description perfectly. You are the only one who can do this."

"But a whore? That's a woman's job!"

"Is it?" Claudia asked, her voice cold. "I hope you paid very close attention whenever you were here, Innocenzo, when I talked about smiling through disgust, or enjoying something that causes you pain, or loving a hideous client. You will need all those skills in order to get close to this archbishop and investigate his ties to the Templars. You wouldn't want to fail the Mentore, would you?"

"But...!"

"No," Ezio said cutting off his apprentice. "This is just as much a lesson for you as it is an assignment. You don't see, yet, and I am tired of waiting for you to wake up. If you cannot understand what I am trying to teach you by the end of this, your body will wind up in the Tevere, do you understand?"

Abate paled, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, before he nodded.

"Good," Claudia said. "Let me introduce you." It was evening, now, and Claudia led Abate to a collection of courtesans – male and female – waiting by the main doors. They all left, sinking into the dying light of the streets while lamp lighters worked their craft. "The archbishop is holding a party as his villa near here. Several people will be there, and you are expected to entertain them however they wish to be entertained. You cannot say no, do you understand, Innocenzo? You will have to do whatever they ask of you: dance, drink, talk, kiss, disrobe, masturbate, anything. Don't drink too much, if you get too drunk the archbishop might pull you aside to rape you, and then we won't get our information so for the love of God keep your head about you. I'll be spending my time talking to him and playing you up as the new innocent flower of the brothel, inexperienced and nervous and eager to please. Do not make me into a liar, I have a reputation to uphold. With luck, you will be invited to the next party-"

"Another?"

"-and you can start to get close to him. From there it will be up to your discretion, but you better damn well get him utterly unconscious before you search his villa. He is a notoriously light sleeper."

"You honestly expect me to-"

"Yes," Ezio said in flat tones. "When Claudia told me about this I recommended you."

"But Maestro!"

"Sh! We're nearly here. Smile, Innocenzo, and look eager."

It wasn't until they were nearly at the gates when Abate finally managed some semblance of acting, and it was well below what he was normally capable of, and Ezio subtly reminded him of that fact several times as they entered the party.

Ezio followed his sister to the archbishop, acting as the "bodyguard" for the evening. The archbishop appraised Ezio with a critical eye and the grandmaster nodded but nothing more. His sister was a master, artfully directing the conversation over many topics as she introduced her "associates." Abate was given particular attention, Claudia explaining his youth and eagerness to do whatever was necessary, weaving a tragic story that left him at her doorstep and socially awkward everywhere but the bedroom, where he became a veritable tiger. The archbishop's eyes were positively greedy as Abate tried to work the crowds, drinking several glasses of wine (likely to dull whatever humiliation he was feeling) and dancing (piteously) as he was told. It was three in the morning by the time everything was over, and Ezio nodded to Claudia as he dragged his piss-drunk apprentice back to the hideout and laid him out on the couch by the main fireplace.

Everyone saw him in his makeup and courtesan clothes when they awoke the next morning, and Candida in particular could not stop laughing. This did nothing to assuage Abate's hangover, and Ezio offered no sympathy whatsoever, reminding him of the orders not to drink so much.

"Wwwhat's the point of all this, Mmmaestro?" he slurred, sitting up with his legs so split apart he was unaware of how much he was leaving on display. "What did I do wwwrong?"

Ezio said nothing for the time being, only for him to focus on his assignment. Abate was, indeed, invited to the next party, and Ezio once again played bodyguard to Claudia's entourage and the miserable Abate. The grandmaster watched from afar as Abate once again did whatever he was told from the other partygoers, dancing and singing. Several courtesans joined him to help him look good, making him sway his hips or angle his feet to look more natural, and Ezio watched as the archbishop's mouth practically watered.

By the third party, Abate seemed resigned to his fate and actually made an effort, and by the fifth party Claudia deemed it time, and she once more introduced "Innocenzo." Abate and the archbishop soon disappeared for a "private" discussion.

Ezio forced himself to wait twenty minutes before slipping out a side door and climbing the face of the elaborate villa. He found the bedroom on the third floor and slowly worked the latch and cracked it open, holding his breath and listening in the summer heat. Hearing nothing, he slipped in as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Abate sat on the bed, still dressed, face hidden in his hands. The archbishop lay across the bed, naked and unconscious.

"Poison?" the grandmaster asked.

Abate's head snapped up, and with a growl he stalked forward to the master assassin. "Do you have any idea what I've been through?" he demanded, his voice hoarse and makeup smeared. "Do you know what I had to put up with before I could slip the poison into his drink? That abomination kissed me! On the mouth! Touched me! Wanted to fuck me!"

Ezio held his ground and said, very simply, "I wonder if any of the women you ever bedded felt as humiliated as you do now."

The apprentice ground to a halt, surprised at the apparent change in subject. "What?" he demanded, incredulous.

"How many women have you raped?" he asked in a cold voice.

"None, they always wanted it, and that's beside the point!"

"Even Elda?" Ezio asked. "A woman married to God Himself, wanted you to fuck her?"

"Women aren't smart enough to-"

"Then you haven't learned your lesson," Ezio said, extending his hidden blades. "You aren't smart enough to realize that for the last season you've been a woman, a courtesan, a whore. You had to smile and bear all that 'humiliation' and even now you still can't realize the correlation. Goodbye, Innocenzo Abate; requiescat in pace."

"No, no! Please! I'll do anything! Maestro! Anything!"

Ezio had of course been waiting for that, and he allowed himself to pause, tilt his head in consideration. "Anything?" he asked in a low, menacing voice.

"Anything! Please, Maestro! Let me prove myself to you."

He considered. For a long, long time, gauging Abate's action until the man was nearly in a panic, crying shamelessly and on his knees. When he was ready, Ezio laid out his punishment.

"You will take a vow of chastity," Ezio said in cold tones.

"Yes! I swear!"

"You will never use intimate language in front of a woman."

"Yes! Yes!"

Ezio nodded. "Then finish your work. I'll meet you back at the hideout."

Sobbing, sniveling, Abate nodded, struggling to get to his feet and began searching the archbishop's documents. Ezio slipped out the window and made his way back to the party; it was well after midnight and most everyone was in the middle of some kind of drunken revelry. It made Ezio uncomfortable to witness it, and he quickly made his way to Claudia to explain how everything had gone.

"It was the best we could hope for," his sister sighed, shaking her head. "There will always be men who never learn, and until women are more than things to be married off, it will always be an uphill battle."

"Agreed," Ezio said, "But at least I didn't have to kill him."

"For now. He may stray."

"We'll see."

The next morning Ezio called the apprentices, Taddeo and Elda and Candida, and told them about the vows that Abate took. Elda wilted in relief, and Taddeo only nodded. Candida nodded as well, saying "We can hope that it lasts."

Abate reported later, and was more than happy to get back into his normal apprentice clothes.

By November the apprentices were all back again with their various novices, and Ezio called them together to the old papal apartments to see what they had learned on their sojourns. Rosa and Ugo were even more critical than Ezio, and he mostly sat back and watched as the two Venetian thieves began whipping his brotherhood into shape. Federica worked closely with Concetto, a pair of fiery personalities driving them further than they would on their own. Ezio noted the good match, and made a note to switch around the rotations to place the two together and see how it worked. If they didn't kill each other, it had the potential of going very well indeed.

The New Year rolled around and Ezio blinked when he realize it was 1506. Had it really been almost three years since Borgia's death? Cesare's exile? And yet still there were targets to eliminate, men corrupted and abusive, trails that lead to Templar plots and schemes. Surely, they should be done by now?

"No! No! Noo! NO! This is not how it ends! Chains will not hold me! I will not die by the hand of man!"

Cesare's last words to the grandmaster as he was hauled away in said chains filtered back into his memory. Ezio had at first thought the Borgia mad, a spoiled child crying out against his impending punishment. Perhaps his memory had tinted the words, but the more Ezio thought about it, the more he felt Cesare truly believed his words. "Chains will not hold me..." With a chill, Ezio realized that Cesare may have been able to commune with the Apple while it was in his possession. Giovanni Borgia, Vecellio's brother, had certainly been susceptible. Could such a thing be an inherited trait? Had Cesare seen something in the Apple? Did it speak to him, as it had Ezio?

The thought drove Ezio to dig out the Apple, hidden in a pouch and locked away in a hidden compartment of his desk – forgotten about as the events of everyday life pressed on him. He almost reached out and touched it, to demand answers, before he caught himself. Altair had spoken of the addiction of the Apple, and Ezio had seen for himself the terrible weapon it could be turned into. He would not risk himself to temptation, and locked it away again.

Instead, he talked to his sister, sharing speculations. She had little ideas to offer, except touching the Apple herself to see if she, too, could talk to it.

That was out of the question, and both agreed it was too risky. Gilberto, slowly becoming stooped with age, had no suggestions either, and so Ezio took his horse and rode out to Firenze, where Niccolo was at the moment.

The city of his birth was still as rich and as beautiful as his memory. As much as he loved Monteriggioni, as much as he loved Roma, Firenze would always hold a special place in his heart, making him smile as he rode past the Duomo and the Campanile di Giotto, noting Leonardo's old studio, and deliberately turning from the location of his old palazzo. Some memories were not meant to be revisited. He found Niccolo, of course, at the Palazzo della Signoria, hard at work at his desk and stuck in back to back meetings. It was a full week before he was free enough to see Ezio without suspicion, and they sat at the fountain at the piazza. Ezio explained his concerns.

"I remember him saying it, too," the diplomat said, "and I agree that it is disturbing. I cannot pull away right now without drawing unwanted attention, but I'll make a few inquiries and get back to you. We never learned where the pope exiled Cesare, and now I regret we didn't take the time to find out."

Ezio nodded. "I'm back to Roma, then."

"Yes. But before you go," Niccolo said, "There is someone you should see."

And it wasn't long before Ezio was lead to an unassuming apartment, opened by a withered old woman, whose eyes looked vaguely familiar. Ezio frowned, trying to place the honey-brown eyes, the wisps of brown hair in the iron gray.

"Ser Ezio," the woman said, and Ezio's eyes widened.

"... Annetta?" The family servant before everything had gone to hell? Paola's sister? Then... "How is she?" he asked softly, mind filling with memories.

Ezio and Niccolo were lead to a modest drawing room, and sitting by the window was the former madonna of La Rosa Colta. Seventy-eight years old, long, once luscious hair now a coarse white, she turned milky eyes to their footsteps. "A man that silent must have once been trained by great masters," she said in a papery voice, smiling.

"Paola," Ezio greeted, taking her spotted, bony hands and lifting her up to her feet, giving her a warm, gentle embrace. She was thin as a rake, bony and fragile, like she would break if he squeezed too hard.

"Ezio," she said in kind. "It is good to see you are still surviving."

"Because of your excellent teaching."

"Only in part."

"I found him wandering the streets," Niccolo said with some poise, "Lost and wondering where you had gone."

"A gentle lie, but I will accept it as truth," Paola said, her blind eyes glancing at Niccolo before turning to Ezio's direction again. "Tell me what you have been doing. I want to hear all about it."

Frailty and blindness had not reduced her ample skills, and Ezio spent the entire visit talking about himself, his sister, his niece, and his brotherhood. Paola laughed outright on the trial of Abate, and smiled wistfully on news of Sancia and Gaspare's marriage. She nodded when Ezio talked about the mystery of Candida and the teamwork of Taddeo and Elda, and marveled at the progress of Vittoria, Alighiero and Filippo, and so on and so on. By the time the two men had left, Ezio had learned nothing about Paola and she everything about him.

"How is she, really?" he asked softly his friend.

"She is exactly as you saw her," Niccolo said. "Sharp as a tack, charming and demure, and utterly unable to fight the perpetual battle of time. Annetta says she will not last the year, and I thought it would do you good to see her, given how you are prone to reacting to grief."

"Practical as ever, I see," Ezio said, not unkindly, and the next day he was saddled and riding back to Rome. He told Claudia what he saw of Paola, and suggested she, too, make a visit to the madonna who had done so much for them on their darkest hour. She agreed, leaving Lucia in charge as Ezio gathered his best apprentices and explained his plan on spying on the Vatican.

Della Rovere had been busy for the last two years, mostly spitting fire at the Borgia name but also in bringing about a nominal semblance of peace between France and the Holy Roman Empire in an attempt to set the two countries against Venice. Antonio and Teodora had the situation well in hand for the most part. More recently, however, della Rovere had "freed" Perugia and Bologna in a brilliant campaign earlier that year. It made him popular with both the French and the Holy Roman Empire, and the papal guards that Cesare had created were now a permanent fixture about the Vatican.

Only Ezio had been in the Castel Sant'Angelo, but they slowly conceived of a plan to place themselves in certain strategic places. This was not an assassination but rather a long-term eavesdropping assignment, and so they planned accordingly. Volpe supplied some costumes, and Lucia the passes to be in the Vatican. Their assault began in late summer, and by November Filippo had gained an audience with the pope as a prospective lover – much to Abate's joint disgust and relief. The former thief talked briefly and coyly, Ezio watching from afar, before sipping some wine and tossing his hair back, glancing at a window to signal that he had what he wanted. An hour later he'd managed to dissuade the pope of his potency as a lover, and the assassins withdrew from the Vatican.

"Cesare Borgia is being held in Spain," Filippo reported. "A castello in La Mota. He has been there ever since, and there is no sign of escape."

Ezio nodded, but the news did not give him piece of mind.

In the end, he went to Leonardo, his most trusted friend.

Leonardo was happy to be called to the hideout, of course, and chatted animatedly with recruits, apprentices, whomever was willing to lend an ear. Ezio let him, knowing that Leonardo's jovial demeanor could brighten even the darkest of times. It was an aspect of his friend that he held most dear, particularly where Ezio's life of shadows could at times become overbearing.

That evening, they sat in Ezio's study with a moment of quiet, as Ezio finally explained what was bothering him.

"It was the manner in which he said it," he said. "'Chains will not hold me'."

Leonardo, listened with a calm ear and sat back. "It's hard to say. Cesare's syphilis might have affected his mind, but I don't think he's had it long enough. Of course, I'm no doctor."

Ezio nodded. "Yet it still persists in my thoughts. It seems I cannot go through a day without the echo of Cesare reminding me he will not be held."

His oldest friend glanced around the study, his eyes falling unerringly on the hidden box that contained the Piece of Eden, even though Ezio had never told his friend where it was. No doubt Leonardo could hear the whispers as well.

"If you are so worried," he said, staring at the hidden box, "there is a way to find out."

"No," Ezio replied firmly. "It is too powerful. It must be hidden from the domain of men." Assuming he could ever find such a place.

Leonardo let out a long sigh. "What a shame, hiding a masterpiece where no one will ever see it."

Ezio nodded in understanding. As a painter, he understood that true art was meant to be seen, be it sculpture, painting, theatre, what have you. But this Apple wasn't a piece of art. It was temptation, power, knowledge. It would corrupt any who used it. Even now, three years after having finally reacquiring it, Ezio was tempted regularly to call upon it to do even the most simple tasks. It must be hidden.

And yet...

Ezio sighed. "My thanks for your advice, my friend." Leonardo simply smiled, putting his hand on Ezio's shoulder. The Mentor smiled as well. "Advice was not the only reason I called upon you."

"Oh?"

"Here." Ezio pulled out a box from under his desk, heavy with florins. "A gift."

"I do not want it," Leonardo shook his head.

"My oldest friend," Ezio said with a soft smile. "Take the money. On your meager salary you will need it. And after all you've done for me over the years, you've earned it."

The painter gave a wry chuckle. "My patron has been arrested after all."

---

A month later, Ezio was revisiting his decision about not using the Apple. Word had come that Cesare had somehow escaped from his prison, and had sought refuge from his brother-in-law, the king of Navarre. Ezio immediately put out word to the Spanish Assassins to start looking into Cesare's whereabouts. He'd be there as soon as he could.

For the moment, however, he needed to charter a boat to get to Spain and then ride to Navarre. And while the Assassins had the finances, it would be best if he didn't go chartering anything openly. Leonardo would be the best choice to help him out for this. So Ezio headed up into central Rome to find his old friend.

"Salai? Is that you?" Leonardo called out. Ezio entered the workroom, filled with the usual chaotic clutter of Leonardo, who started and stopped projects more on whim and fancy than any deadlines. "Ezio! Welcome! I didn't think I'd see you again so soon. You have so many novices to train."

Ezio shrugged. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay. I am here to charter a ship. Cesare has escaped."

Leonardo frowned. "What about your friends?" he asked quietly.

"I built this Brotherhood to last, with or without me," Ezio replied darkly, thinking of Cesare and the damage he could do in Navarre. If the kingdom tried to influence Spain and their Inquisition, or went over the mountains to tackle France... It was too dangerous. Cesare had to be dealt with.

"If this is goodbye..."

Ezio looked up, pulling himself out of his negative thoughts. He gave Leonardo a smile, clasping his hands on the painter's shoulders. "We will see each other again. I promise. But I must get to Spain."

Leonardo nodded, his face once again bright and enthusiastic. "Let me assist you! I know a captain, very discreet. Hang on, I have the name recorded somewhere..." The painter started digging through his materials, glancing at papers, his fingers itching to write something down as it grabbed his attention, before putting it aside to keep looking.

Ezio lifted one of the pages, looking at dots aligned into various triangles. It was unlike the usual inventions Leonardo sketched, and Ezio wondered what it was about. "What are you working on?"

"Oh this? Leonardo turned. "A Hermetic hobby of mine. Of course you are familiar with Pythagoras!"

Ezio chuckled, thinking back to the tutors his father had hired. And his tendency to let his mind wander. "Remind me."

"A brilliant scholar from Grecia!" Leonardo expounded. "Mathematician, philosopher, scientist, mystic. His theorem is still used today in construction to get proper angles. Pythagoras was supposedly initiated by Hermes himself!"

Ezio, having met Minerva, an ancient god, wondered just how true that was.

"Anyway, he formed a secret religion of his own," Leonardo pointed to a triangle of dots, four rows, the top bearing one dot, the last bearing four. "This was supposedly one of their symbols, since the triangle counts to ten, a mystic number. A tetractys! His little cult was somewhere down in Naples, in ancient times, he may have even taught, or at least influenced, Plato." Leonardo's eyes were dancing with a subject to talk about. "We may not see Pythagoreans anymore, but the Hermetics still are! Thanks to the grandfather of your friend, Lorenzo de' Medici. Cosimo de' Medici supposedly wanted any ancient Greek texts he could get to learn more. Hermetics believe in a Supreme Being, an Absolute, like Catholics do, but there's a difference. There is a single doctrine of religion that is true, but it exists in all religions."

"All? How can all religions be right?"

"It's all very complicated. I can't always follow it myself," Leonardo shrugged. "Ercole Massimo usually tries to explain it, but I'm afraid I stop listening partway through."

"Ercole Massimo?" Ezio's eyebrows disappeared to his hairline. "Isn't he one of the richest men in Roma?"

"And the Vatican, supposedly." Leonardo just smiled. "One meets interesting people when working for the Pope. I will admit, I'll miss that. I won't miss the salary."

Ezio shook his head and gestured back to the triangles, the tetractys. "And these symbols came from Pythagoras."

"Yes!" Leonardo exclaimed. "Ever since my exploration of that strange Apple, they have been stamped on my mind. I found these symbols when I was looking up something from Pythagoras, and started looking at Pythagorean disciples. These symbols appear again and again."

Leonardo paused, looking around at his clutter hopelessly. "I am afraid the captain's name escapes me," he said forlornly. "And it's a wonder I can find anything in this mess."

Ezio offered a light chuckle. "Perhaps it would do you good to focus on painting," he said, gesturing to a canvas with hair and body filled in while the face was still being roughed in. "You seem to be doing decent work with this one," he said with irony.

"Ha!" Leonardo laughed. "You are kind, however even I can see that she is badly drawn. And that smile? Overdone. Meaningless. But my research on Pythagoras, I made a breakthrough several days ago. A huge discovery! Salai! Can you bring me the-" the painter paused. "Ah yes, he is not back. I intended to accompany you to the docks to get the captain, but we cannot leave my workshop without my assistant. I'd hate to lock him out!"

Ezio gave another chuckle. Leonardo really cared for this assistant.

"Bene," he said. "An easy task."

"I am afraid you underestimate Salai!" Leonardo replied lightly. "He's very good at disappearing for some whim or another."

Just like Leonardo's mind. This Salai was a good match for his old friend.

"Wait and see," Ezio replied confidently.

"Suit yourself," Leonardo shrugged. "You'll likely find him at La Volpe Addormentata."

The Sleeping Fox. Gilberto would be pleased that his little inn attracted such connected customers. Of course, depending on Salai's luck, he might have to ask Volpe to keep an eye out for the assistant.

Ezio arrived early that evening, and one of the thieves bowed politely before taking his horse for stabling. Ezio retrieved his wallet without the thief even knowing. Inside, it wasn't hard to spot Salai. His face was the basis for several of Leonardo's paintings, and was probably his only function as an "assistant" for the painter.

"Again!" Salai joyfully cried out.

"I told you those dice were lucky," a man in garishly orange robes said, putting an arm around the assistant.

Salai shrugged it off, raising his arms in triumph. "Fortuna wishes she were as good as me!"

"Gian Giacomo?" Ezio stepped in.

Salai scowled horribly. "I do not answer to that name!" he replied petulantly.

An attitude. Wonderful. "Salai."

"Better," the young assistant replied. He glanced back, "But not good enough." He rolled his dice. "Yes! Again!"

Ezio glanced up to the ceiling to reach for some patience. His novices, no matter how annoying or temperamental, at least knew to be respectful. If Ezio barely warranted a glance, perhaps Salai would listen about his job and lover.

"Leonardo, your master, requests your presence."

"Let him wait," Salai replied, reaching for the dice again. "I've not had a streak like this ever!"

Patience thinned, Ezio stepped on the dice. "No," he commanded.

Salai blinked, staring at Ezio's leg, then slowly raked his eyes up, glancing at his arms, chest, groin, and finally his face. With an appreciative smile, Salai coyly said, "Nice hood. Are you one of Julius's monks?"

Ezio had his attention, but his patience was still thin. "My church is not one of God."

Salai's grin broadened. "Outside the kingdom of God is the realm of men," he said, brushing a hand along Ezio's arm. "You worship men, Messere?"

Oh, this little assistant was attempting to flirt was he? Suddenly this wasn't about patience, and Ezio was highly amused. "In a particular fashion," he replied. "I find that God doesn't much care for the goings on of man very much."

"Really? Tell me more," Salai said, brushing up closer, glancing down and up again several times.

Ezio smiled, in full mysterious charm. "Why don't you come with me and find out?" And, the perfect finale to such flirting, Ezio turned and walked away.

"It's been fun!" Salai said with a rush, quickly grabbing his winnings. "But I must go!"

"Please," the orange garbed man pleaded, "do not depart. The game is not finished."

"Sorry, but," Salai glanced back at Ezio who was casually leaning by the door, waiting, "a much better offer has arisen." The assistant raced up to the Mentore and latched onto his arm. "Lead on, Messere."

They walked out and Ezio nodded to a thief to get their horses. It was the same thief as before, who nodded and gave a respectful bow, acknowledging Ezio's skill from before.

As they waited, Ezio saw the orange garbed man step out from Volpe's inn, with two others. All three watching Salai intently.

"Three men from the dice game follow us," Ezio said softly. "Stay quiet-"

"Why?" Salai brashly replied. "Listen!" he called out. "I am done playing."

"So are we," the orange garbed man growled, pulling out a knife.

"Damn Hermeticists," Salai half-growled, half-gasped.

Ezio stepped in front of the young assistant, and pulled out his sword. It was best none knew of his hidden blade, so his sword of Altair did the fighting. He kicked the groin of one of the men, sending him gasping to the ground and fluidly twisted, bringing his sword along the back of the knees of another, disabling him, before bringing the sword down through the neck and collarbone of the orange-garbed man from before. His sword then sliced open the belly of the man he'd kicked in the balls who was struggling to attack him from behind. To ensure no other witnesses, he stuck his sword through the neck of the last Hermeticist.

By then, the thief was back with his horse and Salai's, and was keeping the assistant there. Ezio cleaned his sword along his red sash and then mounted. He put his mysterious voice back on, and beckoned the curly-haired Salai. "Coming?"

The assistant blinked. "Oh, I'm coming!"

The thieves started to swarm the remaining bodies.

They were ten minutes or so away from the inn, when Salai let out a regretful sigh. "There is only one man in Roma who can put on a show like that," he said forlornly. "You must be Ezio Auditore. You have no interest in me."

There was nothing he could say to ease that blow, so Ezio let it settle for a moment. "Come," he said eventually. "We need to return to Leonardo right away."

Salai gave a light chuckle. "You do not talk much, do you?"

Ezio didn't reply.

So, much like his master, Salai started to fill up the silence. "One of those men is often a visitor of Leonardo's. He and his friends are always asking all sorts of questions. Hermeticists. Leonardo always asks questions, but he never gets the answers. I stopped listening a long time ago."

Ezio took them down another street and guided their horses through some alleys. Salai didn't question it. He just kept chattering away about Leonardo and the Hermeticists and their never ending questions.

"I wonder if they're after the Piece of Eden?" Salai asked in his chatter.

Ezio reigned in his horse and glared. "Leonardo told you?"

Salai gave an unrepentant grin. "He tells me everything."

Ezio let out a long sigh. "I fear his indiscretion has cost us greatly," he said. If Leonardo's tendency to talk had let anything slip to these Hermeticists, then there was going to be danger. The fewer who knew of the Apple, the better. "We must warn him."

"Say no more," Salai grinned impishly. "I know the best route home! I take it every morning after the taverns close."

Ezio shook his head. "No, I know Roma better than you." Leading them through more back alleys, Ezio decided he'd best get more information about these Hermeticists. "Leonardo told me that he had discovered something important."

Salai shrugged. "He has been exploring a hidden catacomb for years now, since the Borgia commissioned him, when he was able to get away. I think he came to Roma to find it."

Another of Leonardo's unfinished projects. Although this one seemed to be making some progress.

His assistant, however, was happy to complain with such a silent ear. "You have no idea what he is like! He works on this all the time, he never takes me out anymore. And he is so cheap! I have to beg him for money."

"And the fact that the Borgia paid very, very little?" Ezio countered. "And still, Leonardo gave you coins?"

"More or less," Salai replied, a touch defensive. "What he does not know will not hurt him."

Ezio looked away in disgust.

"So," Salai looked to Ezio in interest, "you are from Firenze? Tell me more."

Naturally, Ezio didn't bother to dignify that with a response.

"Fine, I will use my imagination."

And his imagination was varied and colorful. Ezio quickly chose to change the topic.

"Leonardo discovered something in the catacombs?"

"He found the entrance to an old temple of some kind. Something he read about in his books," Salai replied. "I haven't seen him that excited in years. I can't do that to him anymore."

"Did he say anything else?"

"That the temple contains the perfect number, or some such," he replied. "Numbers are complicated enough, how can one be perfect?"

After all the talk of Pythagoras, Ezio actually remembered this lesson. "Euclid defined perfect numbers as a number that could be summed from its divisors. Such as six."

Salai blinked. "You're going to give me a headache! Don't talk maths to me!"

Ezio hid a smile. "I doubt that was the perfect number that those Hermeticists were talking about."

"I agree. This Euclid fellow never came up. A scholar from Grecia did instead."

Ezio didn't correct Salai to say that Euclid was Greek as well. "Pythagoras." Ezio let out a sigh as he led Salai through another back alley. "Knowing Leonardo, I suppose he spoke of his discovery to whomever would listen." At least Leonardo didn't seem to speak of the Apple or the Assassin secrets. To people outside of his workshop. "Did you notice any other Hermeticists around him?"

"Why would I spend my time at the workshop when I can go out and have fun?" Salai asked, bewildered. "Did you ever notice those men around him? Ask the master himself when we get there."

It was approaching midnight when they finally arrived. The candles had clearly been lit in the workshop, an indication of Leonardo once again enthralled by some idea or such that was making him forget the time.

Salai unlocked the door and Ezio would be glad to finally be rid of Salai and get about getting a boat to take him to Navarre. Unfortunately, Ezio's hopes were derailed as the candles inside showed that Leonardo's workshop had been trashed. His usual clutter was strewn about the floorboards, a table with mixed paints upended and the mixtures drying in splatters. Someone had searched the workshop thoroughly, and without any care for what they destroyed.

"Maestro!" Salai shouted, running forward through the workshop and to the rooms beyond. Ezio switched to his Eagle Vision, trying to see if there were any clues as to who had taken his oldest friend. His eyes only drew him to one thing, the paper Leonardo had been explaining earlier with the Pythagoras patterns.

"Hermeticists," Ezio sighed. "They took him."

"No," Salai panicked, coming back into the room. "He must be here. He must!" He looked around, and started to dig through the items upturned around the room. "Maestro! Don't leave me like this," he whispered.

"The temple he discovered," Ezio interrupted. Grief would come if they could do nothing, but for now he needed to keep Salai busy. "Where is it?"

"Leonardo!"

"Salai," Ezio grabbed his arm and made the young assistant look at him. "If you want to save him, tell me where the temple is."

"I do not know," he said softly.

"Cazzo," Ezio cursed, stalking to the fire to think. Where would the Hermeticists take Leonardo? Straight to the temple, but Ezio didn't know where that was. He had no way to. What to do... He'd have to head back to the hideout, send out his novices and apprentices, start a search..

"Ezio..." Salai called from where he was picking up the clutter, eyes welled with tears. "Something is written on the floor."

"What does it say?" Ezio asked as he came over.

"I cannot read," Salai said quietly. "Leonardo," he smiled wistfully, "he promised to teach me. But now..."

Dipinti Della Villa

"Villa paintings," Ezio read. "He wants us to examine art?" he growled, frustrated. What was Leonardo intending to say?

"I remember..." Salai started, a touch of something in his voice, "when Leonardo visited you at your villa, he was researching the location of the catacombs."

Ezio blinked, remembering back. "Several of his paintings hung in my gallery there," he replied, thinking of finding Leonardo studying the paintings with appreciation of Ezio's love of various art. "What do they have to do with the temple?

Salai shook his head. "I don't know. I just thought of it. Perhaps the pages of his research are hidden in one of the frames?"

Ezio shook his head. "The paintings are gone," he said, smelling fire, smoke and destruction, Mario's ear flying, Ulderico fighting beyond a solid wall. "They all burned in the attack."

"No, they did not," Salai replied, surprised. "I thought you knew. The Borgia took them. Leonardo insisted that such fine art shouldn't be burned just because of an owner."

Ezio nodded. "There were only two paintings Leonardo studied during that visit. They will be easy to get from the new Pope now that the Borgia are gone."

Salai looked away. "One. I sold one of those paintings." Ezio glared. Salai spoke fast and defensively, "I needed the money for a doublet." Then he looked away forlornly to the fire. "Of course, now it has gone out of fashion."

The Mentor let out a long sigh. "Who has the paintings now?"

"Lucrezia Borgia has one, in her husband's palazzo outside Ferrara."

Ezio nodded and turned. "Then it is time I took back what was stolen," he said, disappearing into the night."

---

It took a week to get to Ferrara, up to Firenze and then further north, over the Apennine Mountains and almost to Venezia. Alfonso d'Este da Ferrara has a spacious estate called the Delizia di Belriguardo. Built in 1435, it had a chapel built by the late Cosimo Tura, and a massive stableyard that purportedly held 500 horses. It was the first week of December, now, and Ezio's breath puffed out in bright clouds as he climbed over the estate wall and leapt down to a low lying roof. The sun set him in deep shadows, deep in obscurity, and he slowly made his way across the clay tiles to assess what was necessary to gain an audience with the duchessa. Pursing his lips, he wondered if he should avoid the woman all together, rifle through her belongings, or be forced to confront her.

Crouching down by a smokestack, he peered over the lip of the roof to see the duchessa herself come riding in at a gallop, her horse skidding to a stop before she could master the beast. The guards at the gates, moved to take her reins.

"Did you have an enjoyable ride, Duchessa?"

The blond spat. "Hardly. I raced across the grounds at breakneck speed for fear of a knife in my back."

The guard pursed his lips, Ezio could tell at this distance, and put on a conciliatory tone. "I do not understand, Duchessa. Who is trying to kill you?"

"My father kept them at bay. Kept me safe." She shook her head. "Now they chase after me. They want my head!"

"But, Signora–"

"The countryside was supposed to be serene," she moaned, here eyes moist. "Death follows me, even here..." She looked to the guard. "Increase the patrols and warn me of any intruders. No one is allowed in the palazzo but my husband's private guard." And with that she flicked her reins, pushing her stead into a gallop again and nearly running over the guard who was trying to calm her.

Said guard took his abuse remarkably well. "You heard the Duchessa!" he said to the other teams of guards. "Sound the alarm if an intruder is spotted."

"But she almost killed you just now."

"That's just her fear," he said, waving it off. "We need to make her feel better."

Ezio snorted. So did the guard below him.

"Poor Alfonso, his wife has gone mad."

"And she's already bedding half the staff when he's away..." his partner added. The two moved to close the gates of the inner estate, locking Ezio out ostensibly but the stables were still open to all.

Leaping into a cart of hay, he waited twenty breaths before peeking out to see only a tiny cell of guards huddle together against the cold. The loft door to the stables was open, and Ezio studied the closed barn doors before throwing a rock to distract the guards and hastily scurrying up. Inside he was assaulted with the smell of horses, manure, sweat, leather, and slightly moldy hay. Angling across the loft, he saw and endless row of horse stalls, stable masters flitting back and forth as did squadrons of guards. There were already this many guards and she wanted to double them? Ezio pursed his lips. The lofts did not cover the entire second story, only strategically placed evenly throughout the stable. The individual stall beams were high enough that Ezio was mostly unseen in the early morning light. Hopping from one post to another, he slowly traversed the stable, flitting from one loft to another.

After an hour of careful work, he exited one of the lofts to find dozens of casks situated underneath him on shelves. A winery? Was he near the kitchens? ...Were the kitchens kept near the stables? The grandmaster leapt from his second story arch to a shelf and then to another arch, mindful of the people below him and timing himself with care. He could hear a repetitive sheering noise of some kind, perhaps a knife, and he slowly made his way across a small series of lantern beams, taking several turns and following a very long hallway until he found yet another gate. He was in a storage hall of some kind, perhaps for dry good or oats and feed for the horses, and he saw several of the workers milling about by said gate, guard on the other side.

"What is the meaning of this?" one of the men was saying. "I am supposed to shine the Duchessa's shoes."

"No one is allowed in the palazzo."

"Is she going to shine her own shoes then?" the servant asked, incredulous.

"What the Duchessa does or does not do is of no concern to us."

"What a life this is, let me tell you," moaned the shoeshiner.

"I would rather you did not."

"I will complain to the Duca!"

"As long as you are stuck on that side, no one will hear you."

"I have had enough!" the shoeshiner said, turning angrily and pushing through the other servants as they tried to make similar pleas. Ezio was above them all, however, quite literally as he made his way to another loft. There was a small smattering of boards that acted as a crosswalk to another storage room, and Ezio descended, taking the time to look around and give his feet a rest from all the balancing. They were utterly numb from the cold. After perhaps ten minutes, he peered through the opening of the room to assess where he was in relation to the guards and their gate, but he was in another storage room. Merda. This one seemed mostly empty, but he saw a platform handing above, and he quickly assailed one of the walls to garner enough height to reach it. It took him two tries, but he swung himself up and hopped across to yet another loft. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever leave the stables.

Looking out the other side, he saw a pair of guards at their posts directly below him. Growling, he splayed out on his stomach and watched. The guards yawned in the morning light and swayed tiredly on their feet, but they did not move. Behind them was an arched doorway to another section of the stables. If he could land without making a noise... Ezio glanced up and saw exposed brickwork in need of repair. Perfect. With a deep breath, he hopped onto his feet and took a controlled leap. He landed exactly as he wanted to, and he began the laboriously silent descent, ending with hanging off the anchor stone of the arch and falling perhaps two feet. His landing was utterly absorbed by the growing noise elsewhere. Perfect.

Not wanting to stay on the ground, the master assassin was instinctively climbing another wall and to an exposed lantern beam. Above eyes again, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He was further down the hall, now, he could see the servants still pressed against the gates.

"Stay where you are."

"Let me through!"

"You must wait until the Duchessa allows you to pass."

"And will I be paid for standing around here aimlessly?"

He was once more hopping over crossbeams, timing himself and keeping his focus sharp, and at last he reached the loft that lead to the other side of the gates. Smirking to himself, he walked its length before exiting out to what must have been the estate entrance of the stables. The fresh air was nice but frigid, and Ezio shivered even under his layers. Wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, he pulled out a loaf of bread to eat and some trail mix. It was midmorning now, and he still had to get into the grounds proper.

Four brutes and a wrought iron gate blocked exit, but his eagle pointed out more loose brick work, and once he was rested Ezio was once again climbing, hoping he wouldn't abuse his bad shoulder too much at this rate. Working around the massive arched entrance was time consuming, constantly checking himself for noise, the guards for alertness, and his arms for rest as needs be. By the time he had finally made it outside, he also had the wind to contend with, and he was cursing up a storm when he finally cleared the guards enough that he felt safe to fall.

He landed on ice, his feet flying out from under him, and he had to bite down of a vicious curse before he could bring himself to his feet. Damn winter!

Looking up he found he had made it to the gardens, browned with the cold but still magnificent. Knowing he couldn't take a direct path without alerting the large numbers of security, Ezio slowly made his winding way around the massive hedges, arches, trellises, statues, and fountains. For every guard he sensed he would hide around a corner and wait, or hop up to a trellis and press himself flat against the beam until his shadow was indeterminate. It was well after noon when he finally reached the facade of the villa and he was shocked to find an open window in the frigid December air.

Not one to look a gift in the mouth, he entered and hid behind a curtain, marveling at the heat in the room and assessing where he was.

His timing was lucky, as a pair of guards walked by his window.

"I heard the Duca has borrowed guards from the Pope himself to watch over his palazzo."

"Julius has lent Alfonso several of his guards in return for siding with the Pope against Ravenna."

"We shall see how long that alliance lasts," the second guard said cynically.

Ezio breathed a sigh of relief.

No sooner had he thought that, however, did he hear the doors of the room open, and he ducked even further behind the curtain. Delicate footsteps marched about the room thoroughly before finally settling. Looking further into the room, he saw large marble tiles comprising the floor, and an enormous bookshelf along one wall, the fireplace crackling and, combined with the afternoon sun, giving the room its warmth. At a stand, a massive book open, was Lucrezia. Her riding cloak had hidden an impressive, even beautiful gown, were the corset so low she was indistinguishable from a courtesan. Her husband allowed such raunchy clothes?

Yes, actually. He probably loved them. Ezio sighed.

There were no guards, however, showing her comfort in her own palazzo, and so Ezio pulled away from the curtain and boldly stepped up, his bootfalls heavy and echoing.

"Come to kill me at last, Assassino?"

"Buongiorno, Lucrezia," Ezio said, putting on the charm. "Or should I say Duchessa."

Lucrezia scoffed, her face bitter and ugly. "A borrowed title bestowed by my husband, ill-fitting and barely concealing the truth. Puttana suits me better, it seems."

The contempt at her own situation was impressive, but Ezio reminded himself of her manipulative tendencies, and put his initial reaction to it aside. "You can keep your life. I am here for the art on your walls."

"Redecorating, are we?" she asked, shifting her weight and leaning against the podium with the book.

"Reclaiming," Ezio clarified, his voice light and airy as much as he could make it. "I count a Leonardo da Vinci painting you have stolen, and I want it returned."

If anything, her face became even more bitter, more ugly. "If only it were that easy. My birthplace, my family, have been taken from me," she said, vitriol on her voice. "You think Ferrara loves me? I am a stranger, a castaway. An orphan. Your paintings are gone, Assassino."

The delivery was excellent, but overplayed. She was trying to hurt him, and he let it wash over him. "I do not believe you."

"Frightening, is it not?" she asked, vicious. "To have lost so much?" Her face changed then, morphing into something sad and pitiful and lonely. "We've both lost everything," she said, her voice sweet, soft, even hesitant. "Perhaps we can comfort each other..." And, delicately, she reached out, caressing his chest, stroking his arm. She looked up, eyes wide, mouth pouty, and she at last looked beautiful.

Ezio could see how Vecellio's mentor, and indeed so many others, had fallen for her ploys. The grandmaster himself may have fallen for it, if he were younger and less educated by Claudia. Now, however, he could see Lucrezia for what she truly was. Lucrezia had grown up in a family trained to believe that love only came in the form of attention and sex, both of which were studiously withheld from her until she could make them notice her. Bedded by her brother and possibly even her father, her entire definition of love was damaged beyond repair; she did not even realize what she was doing was wrong. It was piteous, in its own right, but Ezio could never fall for a weak woman. Not after Cristina helped him on the worst day of his life. Not after his affair with Caterina Sforza.

Lucrezia was, and only could be, pathetic.

But, in her neediness was weakness. When Ezio realized this, he realized that she, too, could be manipulated. What he was about to do was vulgar, even cruel, and he mentally moaned against the action he was forced to take, but on the exterior he simply repeated, "Perhaps we can comfort each other."

And he took her hand, lowering his hood.

Slowly he placed his hands on her hips, wide and well shaped, his fingers moving in caressing circles while he brought his mouth down to kiss at her ear, working slowly down her neck, looking for sensitive places. She did not taste right, there was a scent in her perfume that wrinkled his nose, and her skin was too oiled.

Lucrezia dug her nails into his neck, pulling him up into a kiss. He shied away from it, unable to resolve the idea of putting his mouth on hers, and instead moved down to the other side of her neck, grabbing her wrists and pulling them away. Slowly he pressed his knee between hers, and her entire body shivered at the action, and he at last found a sweet spot on her collarbone that made her moan. "How does that feel?" he asked, nibbling on her ear. "Are you comforted yet?"

"Yes... I feel such comfort..."

If she could still make articulate sentences, then she was not yet ready for more pointed questions, and Ezio moved back to her collarbone, disgusted with himself and what he was doing. He felt like a hypocrite, having cruelly punished Abate for his abuse of women he was not doing exactly the same thing. His body was chilled and dirty at what he was doing, and he angled his hips so that Lucrezia would be none the wiser to his lack of desire.

Pressing his hip into her groin elicited another moan, deeper and throatier, and he slowly worked her wrists behind her back, holding them with one hand to use his other to explore her bare shoulders. One hand could not hold her, however, and quicker than he could react his head was pulled up from his ministrations and her mouth was crushed onto his, tongue demanded entry. She tasted like undercooked fish and salt, and again he pulled away and grabbed at her wrists. He didn't care how cold it was, he was bathing in the first stream he found...!

"This is about your comfort, duchessa, not mine," he said softly, pulling away and trying to ignore the line of saliva that connected their mouths. Disgusting. "We will get to my comfort later."

A panted breath of a laugh. "As you wish," she said, low and throaty.

She allowed her hands to be tugged behind her again, and this time Ezio angled their bodies slightly, pressing up against her and letting her stumble backwards, up against the wall. The podium fell over, but Ezio had access to the drapes hanging and he skillfully undid one of the cords to bind her. That left both his hands free, but he kept one tightly curved around her unshapely ass, massaging it while he forced his other hand to explore. He pressed his hip in again, rocking back and forth, and her breathing quickened. Cupping her breast in her corset did not elicit a similar reaction, and he realized there was only once place of her body that she was interested in.

If God ever existed, He would surely send Ezio to Hell for this.

Still kissing her neckline, he bit harder than he intended as he tried to psyche himself up for the next stage in this farce of a seduction. Of course that made her cry out in pain before moaning, "Do that again."

Holding in a sigh and rolling his eyes, he sank his teeth into her oily skin again, on the other side of the neck, and ran his tongue over the bite for good measure. She melted into the wall for that, and Ezio finally placed his hand between her legs. He could already feel the moisture between her layers of skirts. Using the fabric as a barrier, he ran his fingers about her womanly folds and then, finding what he wanted, pinched.

Her groan was indecipherable.

"Are you comforted now?" he asked, moving back up to her ear, breathing on it as he massaged her most sensitive folds.

"Ye..."

Scrounging up the courage to look at her face, he found her flushed and panting, her eyes so dilated they were nearly black, several strands of blond hair framing her face. She was... beautiful... in her own way.

But not in a way that Ezio liked. And not on a person he could ever, ever, find beautiful.

Strained, he put on a charming smile, pinching her womanhood again, and pressing the texture of her skirts against it. He rolled his hips again, slowly working her into an even greater passion, biting at her earlobes and collarbone, never looking at her directly, finding her rhythm and, simply put, working her. Her shoulders rolled, a sign she wanted to take the lead and get on with it, but he teased her just the slightest bit more before pressing his hand further between her legs.

"Give me the painting," he whispered, running his finger over the fabric, licking her jaw.

"Now?"

Ezio pulled away.

"No, wait," she moaned, the picture of lust. "Guards!" she called out.

Two men came into the room, obviously standing just outside it. Ezio learned he couldn't leave that way, and he planned accordingly. "Place da Vinci's Annunciation in a cart. Leave it outside the walls."

"Si, duchessa. Do you desire anything else?"

She turned passionate eyes to Ezio, looking at him like a feast. "Everything I need is right here," she said.

The two men left, and Ezio privately started noting the time. He only needed to buy a little bit more.

"Molto bene," he said, grinning again and hoping it was charming. "Now, close your eyes."

She did so eagerly, tilting her head back for more access. "My husband will soon arrive with his guards, so it is best if you hurry."

"Then let me get ready," he said. She nodded and Ezio wiped his mouth, trying to clean it out as best he could and drawing his hood up. He deliberately flapped his half cape and made noise with his armor and leather; he could see her anticipation shivering through her body, and then he stopped making any noise, instead backing up to the other door.

He paused a moment, looking at her desperate body waiting for pleasure. Leaving her like that would give him more time, to be sure, but he had already been so cruel to her... He sighed.

"Forgive me, Duchessa."

"What for?" she asked, bewildered.

"No man can heal your pain. You must do so on your own." The finality of his words made her eyes snap open, seeing Ezio still fully dressed and on the other side of the room, by the far door. Her flush of desire faded immediately, replaced with the ugly face of anger. All Ezio could say was, "Say hello to the Duca for me."

Perhaps that was even more cruel, but he spared no thought to is and instead darted out the door, hearing the blonde's furious, "Guards! Guards!"

Ezio slammed the door shut, pulling a sword from a nearby coat of arms and shoving it between the handles, effectively locking it in place. That did not give him much time, but hopefully enough. He ran down the hall and took a sharp right, into an inner courtyard, and dashed up some stairs. On the second floor he was high enough to hop from the balcony, across the courtyard trellis, to the opposite balcony, and only then did he hear the guards come around from another side. The balcony lead into bed chambers; he exited and ran down the hall to the landing of another room. He darted around the elaborate paintings and down another hall, into another bed chamber and back out to the enclosed courtyard, closing the doors behind him. No one had made sight of him yet, but he was certainly not going to take his time leaving here.

An old trellis, wooden and half made, hung to his right, and he tested his weight on it quickly before darting up. He reached the third story and slowly worked his way around the vine-covered wall, finding plenty of handholds, before hoisting himself up to another balcony. The doors were closed and locked, but above it was an enclosure with some kind of skylight. He hoisted his way up to see it wasn't an enclosure but an open air hallway with vine-covered trellis overhead, giving sun-dappled light even in the December air. The far end of the short hall lead back to the stable yard. Below was a haystack, and beyond was a cart that Ezio's eagle informed him was important.

Ezio leapt, landing softly, and pulled off his hood and cloak, filching a workman's cape and going back to the stables for a mule.

And, true to his promise to himself. He bathed in the first ice cold waters he could find.

---

When Ezio returned to Roma, his first stop was to Claudia. First, because it was on his way to the hideout, and second, because of what had happened with Lucrezia he felt the need to talk to someone about it.

He ended up staying the night at the brothel, more due to just how long he was talking with Claudia than with any need for the comforts of the establishment. He appreciated the discussion greatly. He still felt dirty over how he'd treated Lucrezia, no matter how he loathed her, and talking seemed to help him feel... cleaner for lack of better phrasing.

"So," Claudia finally asked, "how is the search for Leonardo going?"

"I've retrieved one of his paintings," Ezio replied, "and I discovered something interesting. On the back of framing was a small inscription, so tiny to almost be invisible. But I still need another painting to figure out what Leonardo was hiding."

"The one the Borgia had," Claudia nodded. Standing, she went to the shelves behind her desk and dug around until she pulled out a small invitation. "While you were dealing with that bitch Lucrezia, I've been looking around Roma. Leonardo has always been a dear friend to this family, so I thought I'd see if I could dig up anything."

"And it seems you have."

Claudia smiled. "Yes. Della Rovere doesn't much care for anything that his predecessor collected, and is having an auction tomorrow evening. I was going to go, but now that you're here..."

"I can slip in." And with the funding he'd accrued, he wouldn't even need to steal it.

"Buona fortuna," she said, hugging him.

Ezio squeezed back, more grateful than he could ever express to have such a close relationship again with his sister. Closer, even, than when he'd been so ignorant.

The fact that the auction was the next day was excellent, as it gave Ezio time to return to the hideout and get some rest after the long trek to Ferrara and back, and store the painting he'd acquired.

Or rather, hang it, now that it was his again.

He'd already copied down the writing he'd seen on the back of the framing, and ordered a new frame for the painting, so that no one else might realize what was hidden. Once the painting was reframed, the old frame would be kindle.

The following evening, rested and ready, Ezio went to the Rosa in Fiore to collect a pair of courtesans to help blend as he attended the auction. It was being held at the Castel Sant'Angelo, dear Pope Julius II clearly not trusting security anywhere else. Not that it mattered to Ezio. By now he knew all the ins and outs of the ancient fortress almost like the back of his hand.

Sure enough, guards at the entrance were checking everyone for invitations, and Ezio handed his over. The guards barely scrutinized it, as Lucia worked her distracting wonders, and they slipped in.

"Which painting are we here for, Maestro?" she asked once they were inside.

"A da Vinci painting," Ezio replied quietly. But, to Ezio's complete irritation, there were several of Leonardo's paintings available for bidding. He and the courtesans checked each one, with great difficulty as the guards really didn't care for anyone getting to close. Both Ezio and the courtesans worked hard to create distractions so that one of them might feel the back of the frame for the set of scratches that Ezio was looking for. Any that were found, Ezio tried to get a closer look at, until they were down to three possible paintings. Unfortunately, Ezio did not have time to check them before the bidding started.

Of the three paintings, Ezio acquired two of them. The third, however, was a heated bidding war. Ezio and another party kept climbing the price higher and higher, until at last, Ezio had to bow out. After the two paintings he'd already purchased, he didn't have enough florins left to obtain it.

Naturally, it was the last one that had the engravings on the frame that Ezio needed. Such seemed to be his luck. But thankfully, Lucia had followed the buyer discreetly after the auction and knew what boat was going to sail with the painting. The painting had been purchased, with several others, by a merchant of Firenze. They were to set sail the following day, so Ezio made sure he was there the following morning.

He approached just after dawn, looking at the ship Lucia had identified and observing who was loading and getting ready for sail. The sighing grunts coming from behind some boxes, indicated a sexual encounter going on, and Ezio ignored it as he continued his study. It was as he passed the boxes, that one of the grunts triggered a dusty memory from almost three decades ago. There was no way...

Turning, Ezio saw a familiar sight from so long ago. A man had a woman up against the boxes, one pale leg being held up and her skirts bunched up to reveal even more. Her corset was on the ground, her shirt open and exposing her large breasts as the man supporting her gave another satisfied grunt. The hand not holding the woman's leg was grasping and fondling and pinching the exposed breasts. The woman's breathing became heavier before her back went ramrod straight and she gave a loud screech of orgasm, and then again, and then again. The man was nowhere near as loud, and as he exited her, he used her own skirts to clean his deflating manhood before fumbling to close his pants again.

Ezio growled. He'd never have thought he'd see this figlio d'un cane again, and he would have preferred to postpone the event indefinitely. Such scum wasn't worthy of his time, and not even worth trouncing over.

But, as much as he disliked it, Ezio recognized the colors of the ship that had his painting, and they were the colors of the merchant family of Duccio de Luca, the bastardo who liked to have his cazzo in any opening he could find. Duccio had once been engaged to Claudia, but he had treated her so cruelly and cheated her, that he had made sure that the merchant would never see Claudia again.

That was the day before his life fell apart.

Ezio closed his eyes and put away the memories with practiced ease.

"Still fucking anything that moves, I see," Ezio interrupted as the two kept arranging their clothes. "I'm surprised it's actually a woman this time."

Duccio turned and flushed, but held himself confidently. "Ezio Auditore," he greeted like a pompous ass looking down at a peon. He turned back to the woman and reached out, squeezing her breast again. "Come back down to the harbor when I return to Roma," he said in his best suave voice. "I will show you the inside of my ship."

The woman, still flushed, glanced between the two and only nodded before grabbing her corset and disappearing.

Duccio turned back to Ezio, still standing confident. "Living in this third rate city, instead of beautiful Firenze?" he taunted. "How low you have sunk."

Ezio crossed his arms and pitied Duccio. If that was the best he could do, he was truly beneath Ezio. "We are not children anymore," he replied.

"No we are not," Duccio agreed amicably, breezing by him out to the dock. "I suppose I owe you some sort of thanks. I know how to be better prepared. Look around you, I have help this time." He grinned with great superiority. "And you are alone."

"I am warning you," Ezio said firmly. He didn't wish to resort to cruelty, but Duccio, it seemed, was too stupid to realize that.

"We are only talking, are we not?" Duccio smiled, glancing at the men on his ship who were approaching. "I see this dirty city has worked its dirty magic on your sister," he said callously. "She did not want to open her legs in Firenze, after all. Such a stingy child of her virginity. Virginity is bought and sold. There is no virginity. No one ever tells the truth of virginity." Duccio gave a cruel smile. He confidently walked up to Ezio, so sure of himself and his position. "Tell me, who was her first lover? You? Your brothers? Maybe your father? Dear Claudia is the Madame of Roma, and Borgia certainly fucked his children. So which of you fucked your sister first?"

Well, if Duccio was going to be such an idiota, Ezio would provide the lesson.

Duccio's nose broke very easily, Ezio found.

"Cazzo!" Duccio shouted, his voice almost an octave higher. He turned to his sailors. "Why are you just standing there? I pay you, don't I? Hit him!"

It was a joke.

Really, it was a joke.

Ezio's latest novices were better than these sailors. Sailors, for all that they were strong and burly, weren't trained fighters and could never really handle one who was trained. The fact that Ezio was outnumbered didn't matter at all. It only meant that Ezio was less careful about breaking bones so that he wouldn't have any he took down sneak up on him again. One of the sailors took three hits in a row to the chest, then a blow to the jaw that heard an audible snap of bone sent him sleeping on the ground.

"You can hit me," Duccio cried out, "but that does not mean that Firenze will take you back! You dirty Roman!"

The second sailor had already been punched in the head too many times, and Ezio grabbed both ears and brought the head down hard onto his knee, knocking the man back into a crate.

"Your father pretended to be one of us, but we all knew you were outsiders!"

Finally, the last sailor had some skill, but nowhere near enough. Ezio dove under a half-way decent punch and kicked him straight into a delicate place. The sailor went down clutching himself and did not get up.

Ezio stalked over to Duccio and punched him in the face again for good measure.

"You," he said firmly, "are going to shut your mouth and give me what I want." He grabbed the bloody front of Duccio's clothes and hauled him up to slam him against the crates. "The da Vinci painting."

"Tell me," Duccio spat, "how many cardinals your sister has slept with?"

This was going nowhere. Ezio punched Duccio in the face once more, knocking him out. Pathetic, small-minded man.

Ezio boarded the ship and none of the other sailors got in his way, giving him a wide berth. The first mate was the only one who got close, to bring Ezio below decks to where the goods were stored. It didn't take long for Ezio to find the painting, collect it, and head back before the city guard started asking questions on who had left such a bloody mess on the docks.

The great irony was that when Ezio later asked Claudia about Duccio, she said that he had come to the brothel, demanding to bed her. But he never got past the front desk before the courtesans had knives at his penis and were calling the city guards about a man harassing them. She hadn't even known about it until almost a week later.

Ezio had to smile at that.

---

At the hideout, Ezio copied down the scratchings, and comparing them together. He quickly fetched a mirror, knowing Leonardo's tendency to write backwards.

And spell backwards, apparently...

Ezio scratched his head several times piecing together the code, but he'd known Leonardo for three decades now. He knew his friend very well and was able to untangle the code enough to see what Leonard was pointing at for an entrance.

He visited Salai, to inform the despondent assistant that Ezio knew where the temple was and was heading there. Salai also informed Ezio that he wasn't the only one looking for da Vinci paintings.

"Some Hermeticists were here," Salai said, sweeping the floors. "They were asking about the Master's paintings. I think Leonardo told them about them."

Ezio smiled. "They'll never find them."

"I don't care about that!" Salai shouted. "Just get him back!"

Reaching out, Ezio squeezed the young man's shoulders. "I will."

---

Author's Notes: Almost got it all in one stretch. Leo will be rescued in the next and final chapter.

So. What to say about this. Er, well, there isn't much, really. Ezio 2.0, properly educated and trying to educate those around him, will theoretically follow for the rest of his life. We haven't written Revelations, yet, but that's the thought, at any rate. Ezio 2.0 also prostitutes himself to Lucrezia. That was all kinds of creepy to write, for the record, but in the end between it and then seeing how far behind Duccio is in the evolution of man makes for a good combination.

And then there's Leonardo, and Ezio realizing he's attractive to men. Him flirting with Salai, that was HILARIOUS to write. Not much to say, otherwise.

Next chapter: Leo's rescue. Cesare's death, and Desmond's... well... you know. The final chapter awaits!