A pair of men—one of them notably rotund and draped in a cape—stood at the edge of a square, speaking in hushed, urgent tones. Ezio caught Amelia's eye, a signal that it was time to follow. She nodded in return, her gaze steely. As they crept closer, their target's voices drifted over to them.
"Where's Emilio?" the larger man asked, irritation in his tone.
"I told him to be here," Carlo Grimaldi replied, his words clipped and defensive.
"You told him yourself? In person?" the other man pressed.
"Yes, myself, in person... I'm concerned that you don't trust me," Carlo retorted, sounding more than a little agitated.
Amelia pressed her back against the wall, her movements careful as she kept her weight off her weaker side. She caught Ezio's gaze and offered a faint smirk, as if to say, Men like them always unravel under pressure. He returned the look, the corners of his mouth lifting in subtle amusement, and then they both refocused on the conversation ahead.
As Carlo and his companion began to walk again, Amelia and Ezio slipped behind them, keeping to the shadows. They stayed close, but not so close as to draw attention, blending with the darkness and the small groups of courtesans milling about the streets. Every few steps, Carlo would throw a glance over his shoulder, but Amelia was already ducking behind a pillar or sidestepping into an alley by then, her movements synchronized with Ezio's. Occasionally, she winced, the pull of her muscles reminding her of her still-healing wound.
Their targets stopped again, this time in a small square where they met with two more figures—an old man dressed in rich clothes and another who seemed to hover protectively at his side. Amelia and Ezio settled into the shadow of a nearby arch, listening intently.
"Buon giorno, cousin. Signor Carlo," the old man greeted.
The rotund man frowned, glancing around with impatience. "We thought Emilio would be with you—"
"Emilio is dead," the old man interrupted flatly.
The reaction was immediate, the surprise and fear clear on the men's faces.
"What? How—?" the larger man stammered, his bravado slipping.
Carlo's expression twisted into one of panic. "The Assassin... The same one who hunted down the Pazzi! He's here, in Venezia with his whore Amelia Tessaro."
Amelia felt a slight thrill at his words, the confirmation that their presence had rattled the Templars. She glanced sideways at Ezio, who remained focused, his jaw set. He caught her look and gave her a subtle nod, acknowledging the shared victory.
The old man, Marco, continued in a cold, measured tone, "È così. Silvio—did you not know? He could be anywhere. He could be here right now, and we might not even know. He struck Emilio inside his own palazzo."
Silvio, the rotund man, muttered angrily, "And so, what of our plans!?"
"There is no longer time for subtlety, my brothers," Marco said. "We must act now."
Carlo tried to protest, his voice trembling with desperation. "But, Marco. I'm so close. A few more days. If I can just—"
"No. It happens this week," Marco declared, his tone brooking no argument.
Amelia exchanged a quick, meaningful look with Ezio. This was the information they needed—plans in motion, an urgent timeline. They couldn't afford to waste any time in countering it.
As the group moved again, now joined by a middle-aged man called Dante, Amelia and Ezio followed, staying close. She was aware of the soft brush of Ezio's shoulder against hers, a subtle reassurance that he was right there with her, matching her pace and focus They tailed the conspirators down winding alleyways and through quiet squares until they reached a dockside area. The night air grew cooler, carrying the salt of the sea. Amelia suppressed a shiver, the ache in her side flaring slightly with the chill. But she kept her breathing even, pushing through the discomfort.
When they reached the dock, the group paused, and Rodrigo Borgia himself appeared from the shadows, his presence commanding and filled with menace. Amelia stiffened, her hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of her dagger. Borgia's voice cut through the air, sharp and impatient. Ezio's hand found hers, giving it a hard squeeze to remind her that now was not the time.
"Enough with your inane prattle! The choice of Doge was never up to any of you. And you were never given permission to make plans!"
"Forgive us, Maestro. We wish only to serve," Marco murmured, bowing his head in deference.
Borgia's gaze swept over the group, calculating. "The plan is this: Doge Mocenigo will die tonight. And once the deed's been done, Marco shall take his place."
Marco's eyes gleamed with a dangerous pride as he replied, "Vi ringrazio umilmente, Maestro."
Amelia's breath caught, a cold fury settling in her chest. They were planning a murder, a takeover—and here they were, discussing it so openly, so casually. Her fingers itched to draw her blade, to strike down the Templar leader then and there. But she knew better. Patience was their ally tonight, not aggression.
Rodrigo continued, his voice lowering conspiratorially, "I don't want any blood spilled. You understand? It must appear to all that he goes quietly."
"Certo, Maestro..." Carlo agreed, but his tone betrayed his fear.
Amelia held her breath, listening as the plan unfolded, each detail more damning than the last. Poison, deception—there was no limit to the Templars' reach. And behind it all, Rodrigo's cruel, calculating mind. It made her skin crawl, a reminder of the stakes they were up against.
As the meeting ended, and the Templars began to disperse, Amelia let out a slow breath, her anger simmering beneath the surface. Ezio's hand found hers briefly, a comforting squeeze, before they turned to retreat back into the shadows.
"Let's get this information back to Antonio," Ezio murmured, his voice low and tense. "He needs to know what we're dealing with."
She nodded, meeting his gaze with a determined look of her own. "We can't let them get away with this, Ezio. They're going to destroy everything if we don't stop them."
He nodded, a fire burning in his eyes that matched her own. "We won't, Amelia. Not as long as I draw breath."
Beside her, Ezio's expression was tense but determined as he led the way through the bustling streets. He kept casting brief glances her way, a habit he hadn't quite dropped since her injury. She appreciated the concern, but she wished he wouldn't worry so much. She'd grown used to pushing through discomfort—though she'd never say that out loud. If she let him know, he'd only fuss more.
As they approached the rendezvous point, Rosa's voice rang out, her tone playful. "Salute, bello mio. Come stai? (Hello handsome. How are you?) You back to see me already?"
Amelia's jaw tightened instinctively. Rosa's flirtatious manner always grated on her nerves. She glanced sideways at Ezio, half-expecting him to return the banter. Instead, he kept his expression serious, nodding once to Rosa before saying, "Desolato, Rosa, but I am not here to play. I must speak with Antonio. It's urgent."
That brought a small, satisfied curve to Amelia's lips. Good. Focused as always. Yet, even as she thought it, a pang of jealousy twisted in her chest. She pushed it aside, listening as Rosa called for Antonio.
"Antonio! Ezio's here!"
Moments later, Antonio emerged from the shadows of a nearby alley, his face lined with the kind of weariness that came from leading men in difficult times. He approached Ezio and glanced at Amelia, offering her a brief nod of acknowledgment.
"Ezio! Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken concern.
"Carlo Grimaldi and the Barbarigo are in league with the one they call The Spaniard. They're going to murder the Doge and replace him with one of their own. They will have all of Venezia—her entire fleet—in their grasp," Ezio explained, his tone grim.
Antonio let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "And they call me a criminal..."
Amelia crossed her arms, leaning against a nearby post to ease the pull on her side. "They'll call anyone a criminal if it serves their purpose, but it won't change what they've done. Are you with us, Antonio?"
Antonio looked between the two of them, his resolve hardening. "You have me on your side. And the support of all my men."
Rosa interjected with a smirk, her eyes flicking to Amelia. "And women!"
Amelia rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips despite herself. She was starting to warm to Rosa, even if she wouldn't admit it openly. "Let's just hope you're as good at fighting as you are at talking," she teased.
Ezio cast a quick, appreciative glance between them, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Grazie, amici!" he said, genuine gratitude in his voice.
Antonio's expression turned serious again as he stepped closer to them both. "But, Ezio, I must warn you. It's not going to be so easy this time. Palazzo Ducale is the most heavily guarded building in Venezia."
Amelia shot Ezio a sideways glance, knowing full well what his response would be before he even spoke. He didn't disappoint.
"Nothing is impenetrable," Ezio replied, his voice filled with the confidence that had carried them through so many missions.
Rosa laughed, her voice bright and teasing. "This is why we like you, Ezio!"
Amelia huffed out a breath, busying herself with checking her hidden blade, adjusting the straps, but she couldn't ignore the warmth that flickered through her when Ezio placed a gentle hand on her back, guiding her toward the direction of the Palazzo. The touch was light, almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver down her spine all the same. She glanced up at the other woman whose eyes were wide in shock. Rosa looked up at her and her eyes softened at the sweet gesture she had witnessed. Amelia blushed a little and let her head hang as she focused on her feet. She may have been an Assassin but the attention that came with romance would always make her blush.
Antonio motioned for them to follow, and they made their way through the winding streets until they reached the Piazza San Marco. The grandeur of Venice's architecture loomed around them, casting long shadows over the cobbled stones. As they walked, Antonio began to speak, his voice tinged with a melancholy edge.
"This business with the Doge... Terrible. Though treachery like this no longer surprises me. When I was a child, we were taught that the nobles were just and kind. I believed it, too." He shook his head, bitterness in his tone. "But if you are not born one of them, acceptance is impossible."
Amelia listened quietly, feeling a pang of empathy for the thief. She knew what it was like to fight for a place in a world that sought to shut her out. "It's always the ones who think themselves above others that cause the most suffering," she murmured, her gaze sweeping over the busy square. "We see it every day."
Antonio looked at her, a flicker of understanding passing between them before he continued. "So I ask you, Ezio—who are the true nobles of Venezia? Men like Carlo Grimaldi and Marco Barbarigo? No! I say WE are: The thieves and mercenari and whores. While we work to save this city and its people, the nobles seek to make it their plaything."
Ezio's expression softened, a rare look of agreement crossing his features. "Then let's show them what true nobility looks like."
They arrived at the edge of the Piazza, where Antonio gestured toward the Palazzo Ducale, its grand facade glinting in the fading light. "We need to scout the Palazzo carefully, see it from every angle. We just might find a way in. I know of a tall Campanile behind the Palazzo. Or we might find a way to climb the back of the Basilica. Do you have any ideas?"
Amelia crossed her arms, glancing up at the imposing building. "The front door is out," she remarked dryly, earning a low chuckle from Antonio.
"Va bene! We'll try the front door as well, saputello (wise ass)," Antonio teased, but his smile faded quickly as they took in the heavily patrolled grounds.
They scouted the area in silence, the tension between them palpable as they realized the difficulty of the task ahead. As they climbed to the top of a tall tower nearby, the full extent of the challenge became clear.
"Look at that," Antonio muttered, gesturing to the many archers stationed around the building. "Archers everywhere."
Amelia squinted, her hand shielding her eyes against the glare. "And the walls are impossible to climb on this side. They've covered every angle."
They moved on to the Basilica, where Antonio pointed out a path up the scaffolding. "Bene... We're in luck. Looks like there's a perfect path up the scaffolding to the roof of the Basilica. Shall we?"
Amelia glanced at Ezio, and he gave her a nod. Together, they began the climb, the ache in her side flaring with each pull upward, but she gritted her teeth and pressed on. She wasn't about to be left behind—not when so much was at stake. She was a little slower than normal but she made it to the top not too far behind the men. When she reached the top, she found Ezio waiting to help pull her to the roof. His hand lingered on her waist a little longer as they walked to the edge to scout out the area. They spotted Carlo Grimaldi speaking with the Doge, Giovanni Mocenigo. Carlo's voice carried up to them, filled with desperation.
"Don't you understand what I'm offering you, Signore! Listen to me, please! Or this will be your last chance!"
The Doge's response was sharp, full of anger. "How dare you!"
Amelia's stomach twisted with unease as Carlo's attempts to persuade the Doge continued. But before they could hear more, the two men disappeared from view.
Antonio let out a frustrated breath. "We're running out of time! There's no way through this fence—and there are guards everywhere. Diavolo!"
Amelia bit back a curse, glancing at Ezio for guidance. He seemed lost in thought, staring at the rooftops where pigeons gathered.
"It's impossible!" Antonio continued, throwing up his hands. "There's no way in or out for men—only birds!"
Ezio's eyes suddenly brightened with an idea, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Yes... birds."
Antonio blinked at him, confused. "Where are you going now!?"
"To see my friend Leonardo," Ezio replied, turning on his heel with a determined stride.