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Chapter 104

"Salve, Ezio. You picked a fine time for a homecoming."

Ezio appreciated Machiavelli's attempt to greet him with a bit of humor, but there really was no time for small talk. It had taken them nearly two months to make sufficient preparations for the unknown situation in Firenze. Paola and La Volpe had ridden ahead to ensure Ezio and Rosa could be safely accommodated in the city until their job was done. When the latter two reached the gates of the city, they decided to split up: Rosa would go immediately to Paola's brothel (which, Paola had assured them, was a safe place to stay) while Ezio would seek out Machiavelli.

The streets were eerily quiet, and the citizens refused to make eye contact with Ezio or each other, only managing a few whispers when they were absolutely necessary. It reminded Ezio of the night he had witnessed the aftermath of the fight between Bartolomeo's and Silvio's mercenaries, and he was expecting to find something terrible around any corner. Aside from some smoke in the sky, however, he couldn't quite tell with certainty what was bothering everyone around him until he overheard a few angrier whispers that seemed to confirm his suspicions.

"We never should have welcomed that mad monk into the city. Look at all the misery he's wrought," said one.

"I don't understand why we'd be so willing to accept his oppression," murmured another.

"He just threw us out," complained another man quite loudly. "He said all we owned belongs to the Chiesa di San Marco now!" When Ezio walked by him, he and the people to whom he had spoken looked down at the ground and backed away (likely afraid that their conversation might be heard by less sympathetic ears).

He continued walking, hoping that Rosa had managed to find her way to Paola without too much trouble. She was not a native of the city, but she had been there before, so he had confidence she would find her way there. If all else failed, she could climb up to a rooftop faster than nearly anyone else he knew and orient herself with her surroundings.

"Sometimes I wish the Assassino would return to Firenze, that we might be free of this tyranny," came another nearby voice.

Ezio turned to find that its source was a woman standing outside her home with an acquaintance. His heart jumped into his throat. Had she recognized him? Would others as well?

"It's just a myth," her friend replied. "A story parents tell their children."

He sighed with a bit of relief. He hadn't been discovered...at least, not yet. He wondered to himself what the city remembered of him and his family. After all, their execution (and Ezio's subsequent assassinations of Uberto Alberti and Francesco de' Pazzi) had been very public, but a lot of time had passed. If all of it had been reduced to a simple story, how exactly did that story go now?

The women very suddenly retreated into the house as a several city guards came running in Ezio's direction, swords drawn. Ezio was about to draw his return, but was stopped just in time.

"Out of our way, stronzo," barked a voice behind him. Before he could move an inch, several guards rushed past him and into the first group. He barely managed to duck into an alley while they clashed, but there was no time to stop and watch the battle.

He found Machiavelli standing on a bridge overlooking the Fiume Arno. On the other side of a bridge was a large bonfire, obviously one of the sources of the smoke he had seen. It was there that Machiavelli greeted him.

"Then it's true?" Ezio asked. "Savonarola has taken control of Firenze?"

"Yes," Machiavelli nodded. "No doubt aided by that treacherous artifact."

"We should get to work on retrieving it."

"That may be more complicated that you think."

"When isn't it?" Ezio chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fill me in on things?"

"Walk with me," said Machiavelli, smiling and raising his eyebrow.