They retraced their steps through the catacombs, emerging into the cool night air in a garden area outside. La Volpe was waiting for them, his figure barely visible in the shadows of the overgrown greenery. He raised an eyebrow as they approached, noting the tension in their expressions.
"I know where Francesco will be and when," Ezio said, his voice clipped with urgency. "But..."
La Volpe's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
Ezio's expression darkened as he continued, glancing at Amelia before speaking. "I overheard something... They have weapons, enough for a battalion. Even the Pope has given support!"
La Volpe cursed under his breath, shaking his head. "Typical of Sixtus, but... What the hell are they planning?"
"It involves the Medici," Amelia spoke up, her voice edged with tension. "They're going to strike at the Duomo. During Sunday service. Tomorrow morning."
La Volpe's face went pale as he absorbed the implications. "The Medici will all be there for Sunday service... along with the rest of Florence. They're going to do it right in the middle of High Mass..."
Ezio's expression hardened, his jaw set with determination. "It's also a chance for me to blend with the crowd, get close, and stop this madness."
La Volpe's frown deepened, his worry clear. "If they succeed... if we lose Lorenzo, and Florence falls to the Pazzi..."
"It will not come to that. I promise," Ezio said, his voice filled with steely resolve.
La Volpe's eyes lingered on Ezio for a moment, then flicked to Amelia, who met his gaze with equal determination. Finally, he nodded. "I hope you're right..."
As La Volpe disappeared back into the shadows, Ezio turned to Amelia. She noticed the scrape on her cheek from earlier, a small reminder of the fight in the catacombs. Before she could brush it off, Ezio reached out, surprising her with a gentle touch. He cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the dried blood.
"You're hurt," he said softly, his voice carrying an unexpected tenderness.
Amelia blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. Her heart skipped a beat at the feel of his touch, warmth spreading through her despite the chill in the air. "It's nothing," she murmured, but her voice came out softer than she intended.
Ezio's eyes held hers, a hint of something deeper flickering there before he let his hand drop. "It's not nothing to me," he replied, a rare gentleness in his voice that left her momentarily speechless.
She offered him a small smile, one that carried a flicker of gratitude and something unspoken. "Thank you, Ezio," she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper in the stillness of the night.
He nodded, a small, almost shy smile crossing his lips before he turned his gaze back toward the city. "Come on," he said, his voice returning to its usual confidence. "We have a lot to do before morning."
They moved together through the darkened streets, side by side, their steps echoing against the cobblestones as they prepared to face whatever awaited them at the Duomo.
The streets of Florence were filled with the echoing footsteps of the fleeing crowd, the air thick with tension as dawn broke over the rooftops. Amelia's pulse thrummed in her ears, her focus sharpened to a razor's edge as she and Ezio hurried through the shadowed alleys. After two years away from the city, the familiarity of the streets felt like a ghost from another life, but there was no time for nostalgia. They had returned with purpose, hunting down Cesare's movements and gathering Leonardo's decoded secrets, yet today their mission was clear: to protect Lorenzo de' Medici and prevent the city from falling into the hands of the Pazzi.
As they reached the edge of the square, Ezio leaned against the corner of a building, scanning the crowd with a clarity that came as naturally to him as breathing. He had always possessed a gift for seeing things others missed—details that most overlooked. Amelia had seen him spot a thief's nervous hand before it slipped into a pocket or the slight twitch in a guard's stance that revealed a hidden weapon. Now, his gaze swept across the scene, honing in on the figures gathered near the Duomo.
"There's Lorenzo, and his wife," Ezio murmured, his voice low as he pointed out the familiar faces among the milling nobles. "There's Giuliano, Lorenzo's brother. But where is Francesco...?"
Amelia's own eyes followed his line of sight, but her brow furrowed as she scanned the faces in the crowd. Francesco de' Pazzi was nowhere to be seen, and a chill ran down her spine. "I don't see him yet. Where is he?!" Her voice was tense, the urgency pressing at her like the tightening grip of a vise. She felt the same sense of unease that had haunted them since they stepped back into Florence—a premonition of violence hanging in the air like the promise of a storm.
Before they could exchange another word, a commotion erupted in the crowd below. The heavyset figure of Bernardo Baroncelli lunged forward, a thin dagger flashing as he drove it toward Giuliano. The steel caught the morning light, reflecting a brief, blinding glint as it pierced through fabric and skin.
"Crepa traditore!" Bernardo shouted, his face twisted with hatred as he slashed at Giuliano, leaving cuts that oozed crimson. Lorenzo turned, his expression a mask of horror, and cried out for his brother, but his voice was swallowed by the chaos.
In the confusion, another figure emerged—Stefano da Bagnone—who moved like a shadow behind Lorenzo, a dagger gleaming in his hand. He drove it into Lorenzo's back with brutal force, and the ruler of Florence crumpled to the cobblestones, blood pooling beneath him. The shouts of the crowd grew louder, and panic rippled through the square like a wave.
Giuliano's desperate voice rang out, hoarse with pain and fear. "In nome di Dio, vi scongiuro! Pietá!" But his pleas fell on deaf ears.
"Nessuna pietá, cane maledetto! Muori! Muori! Muoriii!" Francesco de' Pazzi snarled, his voice thick with rage as he stabbed Giuliano over and over, his face twisted with a madness that sent a shiver down Amelia's spine. Blood splattered the cobblestones, pooling around Giuliano's broken form, and even the other conspirators looked on with uneasy expressions as Francesco's fury consumed him.
Amelia's jaw tightened as she gripped the hilt of her blade, a surge of fury burning through her veins. She wanted to leap into the fray, to strike down Francesco where he stood, but she knew they needed to be smart. They couldn't save Giuliano, but they could still save Lorenzo and stop this bloodshed from consuming the entire city.
"Now, Ezio!" she hissed, and the two of them moved as one, springing from the shadows with blades drawn.
They landed in the midst of the chaos, their arrival like a bolt of lightning among the Templars' forces. Ezio's sword flashed as he cut down the nearest guard, his movements quick and precise, while Amelia's blade struck like a viper, finding the gaps in her enemies' defenses. Together, they fought with the ease of two warriors who had learned to trust each other's every move.
A group of seven guards surged toward them, brandishing swords and shouting curses. Amelia met the first with a slash that opened his throat before he could raise his weapon. The second lunged at her, his blade aimed for her heart, but she sidestepped, catching his arm and twisting it until she heard the snap of bone. He howled in pain, and she finished him with a swift thrust through the chest. Ezio moved to her side, intercepting a blow aimed for her back. His blade clashed against the guard's, and he shoved the man backward, creating a brief opening. Amelia used it to her advantage, spinning low and slicing the tendons behind the man's knees. He crumpled with a strangled cry, and Ezio dispatched him with a downward strike.
Three more guards rushed them, their faces twisted with determination. One swung at Amelia, his sword a blur, but she ducked beneath the arc of steel, driving her elbow into his gut with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs. She followed up with a slash that sent him stumbling, clutching at his side as blood seeped through his armor. The other two tried to flank her, but Ezio's blade intercepted one, catching the guard's wrist and twisting the weapon from his grasp. He finished the man with a precise thrust through the heart, turning just in time to deflect the other's attack. Amelia moved in tandem, their movements synchronizing as she drove her dagger into the final guard's side, feeling the resistance of muscle and bone as she twisted the blade.
A flash of pain flared across her upper arm as the last guard managed a desperate swipe with his dagger before crumpling to the ground. She stumbled back, her hand flying to the wound as she felt the warmth of blood trickling down her skin. Ezio's eyes darted to her, concern flashing across his face, but she forced herself to focus, taking a steadying breath.
"They're down, but we need to move quickly—Lorenzo won't last long without help," she said, her voice tight with pain but unyielding. Ezio sheathed his blade, stepping closer to her. He reached out,grabbed her shoulder with one hand as he examined the cut on her upper arm instead. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and she held still, her heart beating faster for reasons that had nothing to do with the fight they'd just endured.
"Hold still, Amelia. It's not deep, but it's bleeding a lot," he murmured, his voice softened with an edge of concern.
She raised an eyebrow, attempting to mask the warmth that spread through her chest at his touch. "Don't go soft on me now, Ezio. I've had worse."
He chuckled softly, but his expression remained serious as he tore a strip of cloth from his sleeve and pressed it against her arm, holding it there until the bleeding slowed. "Maybe so, but I don't like seeing you hurt."
"You... saved my life," Lorenzo gasped, as he approached them, his voice weak but filled with gratitude.
Ezio reached out to steady him, his brow furrowed with concern. "It's nothing. But the man who did this to you has to pay."
Lorenzo leaned heavily against Ezio, barely able to stand. "Not now... I need help first... To my home... People I can trust there... Can you...?"
Ezio nodded firmly. "Hang on, Signore. I'll get you there."
Amelia moved to Lorenzo's other side, helping to support his weight as they began the slow journey through the winding streets of Florence. She could feel the tremor in Lorenzo's body, the heat of his blood soaking through her gloves as they pressed on. Every step felt like a race against time, the shadows of the alleyways closing in around them.
"I'm losing a lot of blood..." Lorenzo's voice was barely more than a whisper, his breaths ragged and shallow.
"Keep moving, Lorenzo. You're not dying on us today." Amelia's voice was firm, but underneath, a current of urgency drove her forward. They had to reach safety—failure wasn't an option.
"Francesco de' Pazzi... I'll kill him! I'll wipe his entire family from the city! They'll be ERASED!" Lorenzo's voice broke into a pained growl, his rage mixing with the agony of his wounds.
Ezio shot him a sharp look, keeping his voice calm and measured. "Quietatevi, Signore. Conserve your energy, or I'll be delivering a corpse. We're almost there now..."
They fought their way through more soldiers, the blades of their enemies glinting like shards of ice in the morning light. Ezio and Amelia moved like a well-practiced duo, each covering the other's blind spots as they pressed forward. The shouts and clang of metal faded into a blur around them, their focus singular—get Lorenzo home, keep him alive.
Finally, they reached the heavy wooden door of Lorenzo's estate. Ezio banged on the door, his voice urgent. "Lorenzo's been wounded! Aprite la porta! Open the door!"
A guard's voice came from behind the door, tense and uncertain. "What's the password?"
Lorenzo's voice rasped out, filled with pain and authority. "Poliziano! Open the maledetta porta!"
The door swung open, and they stumbled inside, the heat of the sun giving way to the cool shadows of the estate. Lorenzo's men rushed forward, taking him from Ezio and Amelia's arms, but not before Lorenzo reached out, grabbing Ezio's sleeve with a surprisingly strong grip.
"Wait... I am in your debt. Tell me. Why did you help me?" Lorenzo asked, his voice thick with emotion.
Ezio met his gaze, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. "You are not the only one who lost a brother to the Pazzi. My name is Ezio Auditore."
Recognition flashed across Lorenzo's face, followed by a hint of sorrow. "You're Giovanni's son... Your father iss a good man. I was sorry to hear about your older borher"
Before Ezio could respond, a guard rushed up to them, his face pale with fear. "The Pazzi thugs are storming the Palazzo della Signoria! We can't hold them off much longer—"
Poliziano interrupted, his voice filled with desperation. "No! If they get inside, they'll murder all our supporters and put their own devils in power!"
Lorenzo struggled to stand, his face twisted in pain. "Then my survival would mean nothing. I have to... Francesco de' Pazzi... Help save our city, Auditore... Kill him."
Ezio nodded, a grim determination settling in his expression. He turned toward the door, ready to face the next battle, but paused as Poliziano stepped forward.
"Signore. I saw Francesco lead a battalion around the back of the Palazzo della Signoria. I fear he may be seeking another way in," the guard said, his voice tight with urgency.
Poliziano glanced between them, his face drawn with worry. "Go! Before it's too late. Do what you can."
Ezio met Amelia's gaze, seeing the fire in her eyes. Without another word, they turned and ran back into the streets, the cries of Florence's chaos echoing in their ears. As they sprinted through the narrow alleys toward the Palazzo.