Amelia sat at Leonardo's workbench, the cluttered space filled with the comforting scents of sawdust and oil, mingling with the faint aroma of the simple dinner they had shared. For the past three years, this workshop had become her refuge—a place where the memories of the past could be kept at bay by the steady rhythm of decoding codex pages and helping Leonardo with his endless inventions. She had thrown herself into the work, driven by a sense of purpose, but also by the letters she had received from Ezio, each one a reminder that he was safe, even if he was far away.
As she took a sip from her wine glass, her thoughts drifted back to those letters—accounts of his time in Monteriggioni, of helping Mario and Giovanni collect more codex pages. His words had been careful, measured, but she had read between the lines, sensing his desire to return to Venice, to continue what they had started together. And yet, she hadn't realized just how much she missed him until he stepped through the door that evening.
Leonardo had just set down a plate when the door creaked open, and a tall figure filled the entryway, silhouetted by the evening light. For a moment, the familiar shape left her breathless, and when he stepped fully into the room, her chest tightened. It was Ezio, looking older, perhaps a bit more worn, but the same determination burned in his eyes. He had written so many times, and yet seeing him here, in person, was like feeling the ground shift beneath her feet.
Leonardo was the first to react, his hands flying to his mouth in shock before he rushed forward, grabbing Ezio by the shoulders with a joyful laugh. "Ezio! Dio mio! (My God!) You're alive! Is it true? They say you killed the Doge?"
Ezio's smile was brief, shadowed with regret. "I was trying to save him, Leonardo. But the truth matters little. I failed. And now I'm the most wanted man in Venezia."
Amelia's breath caught, her concern evident as she stepped closer. "You've always had a talent for attracting trouble, Ezio," she said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt to mask the worry threading through her words. But beneath the lightness, her hands trembled slightly at her sides, a reaction she hoped he wouldn't notice. "You're lucky the guards didn't catch you on the way in."
Ezio's gaze softened as he turned to face her fully, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I missed you too, Amelia," he replied, the warmth in his voice catching her off guard. There was an unspoken acknowledgment between them, a reminder that no matter the distance or time, they had remained connected.
She felt a rush of emotions—relief, gratitude, and something else, something deeper she hadn't yet put into words. But she kept her expression calm, offering him a faint smile. "I'm glad you're back, Ezio. And in one piece, no less."
Leonardo cleared his throat, bringing a bit of levity back into the moment. "Perhaps you are in luck, Ezio! It's Carnevale in Venezia. This is the time when everybody goes without a face!"
Ezio nodded, his expression lightening. "That's why I'm here. Do you have a mask I can wear?"
Leonardo's face brightened as he hurried toward a cluttered shelf. "Of course, of course, somewhere in here..." He began rifling through the pile of masks, each more intricate than the last. As he searched, Amelia caught Ezio's eye, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"So, hiding in plain sight, then? Not exactly your style," she remarked with a small smirk, folding her arms as she leaned back against the workbench.
Ezio's smile turned wry. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, no?" He glanced at her sideways, his tone softening. "Besides, Carnevale has its charms. I thought you might enjoy the festivities."
She arched an eyebrow, the teasing glint in her eyes belied by the warmth beneath. "As long as you don't expect me to jump into the canal with you again. Once was enough, Ezio."
He chuckled, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, it was as if the years had fallen away. "Noted. No more unexpected dives. But perhaps I'll save a dance for you, if we're not too busy dodging guards."
Before Amelia could respond, Leonardo pulled out a mask with a flourish. "Here we are! This should do nicely." He handed it to Ezio, who turned it over in his hands with a thoughtful look.
"Grazie, amico mio (Thanks, my friend)," Ezio said, slipping the mask into the folds of his cloak. Then he turned back to Amelia, his expression shifting to something more serious, more intense. "I have something else for you, Leonardo," he said, retrieving a carefully wrapped bundle from his belt and handing it to the inventor.
Leonardo's eyes lit up as he unwrapped the bundle, revealing yet another codex page. "Ohhh! More of the Codex!" His excitement was palpable as he pored over the intricate designs. "Aha... This one's quite complex... Hmm... It's a new design, my friend... A mechanism for your wrist, but not a blade... In fact, it seems to be a kind of *arma da fuoco*—a firearm, but as small as a hummingbird!"
Amelia leaned closer to the blueprints, her curiosity piqued. "A hidden firearm? If you can actually build that, Leonardo, I think you'll make Ezio's day." She cast Ezio a sidelong glance, unable to resist a small smile. "Though he could use a bit more practice hitting his targets."
Ezio shot her a mock-offended look. "Is that a challenge, Amelia? You know, I haven't forgotten that I still owe you a rematch from our last sparring match."
She laughed softly, the sound easing the tension that had hung in the air since his arrival. "One step at a time, Ezio. Let's make sure you don't shoot your own foot off first."
Leonardo's laughter joined theirs, a buoyant sound that filled the workshop. "Well then, let's put this theory to the test! Come, let's build it and see if it works!"
As they set to work on the new mechanism, the three of them fell into an easy rhythm, the familiarity of their friendship easing the weight of the years they had spent apart. Amelia couldn't help but steal glances at Ezio, taking in the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he helped Leonardo with the design, the way he still managed to find humor even amidst the seriousness of their mission. It was a side of him she had missed dearly, a reminder of why she had never stopped hoping for his return.
Once the mechanism was complete, they moved outside to the canal, where the evening sun cast a warm glow over the water. Ezio strapped the new device to his wrist, testing its weight as he faced the dummies Leonardo had set up across the river.
"Let's see what this thing can do," Ezio said, raising his wrist and aiming carefully.
Amelia watched from beside Leonardo, her arms folded as she tried to mask her anticipation. The air was filled with the scent of saltwater, the distant chatter of the city carrying on the breeze. When the sharp crack of the pistol rang out, hitting its target with precision, she couldn't hide her satisfaction.
"Not bad," she called out, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Looks like you haven't lost your touch after all."
Ezio turned toward her, a playful gleam in his eye. "Care to try your hand at it, bella mia?" he teased, the endearment slipping from his lips with familiar ease.
She shook her head, though there was a warmth in her chest at the way he spoke to her, a memory of the easy banter they had shared in the past. "I'll leave the showboating to you, for now. But don't get too cocky, Ezio. I'm still a better shot with a bow."
Leonardo clapped his hands, drawing their attention back. "Enough competition, you two! Ezio, you've done well, but I sense there's more behind your return than just testing new toys. It's about the Doge, isn't it?"
Ezio's expression grew serious as he nodded. "Yes. Marco Barbarigo has to be stopped. I need to see Antonio."
Leonardo's brow furrowed, but he nodded in understanding. Amelia, standing beside Ezio, felt the familiar weight of their mission settle back onto her shoulders. "If we're going to stop him, we need to move quickly," she said, her voice steady. "Things have gotten worse since you left, Ezio. We did what we could to keep things under control."
He turned to her, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was memorizing the sight of her standing there beside him. "I know you did, Amelia. I am here now, we can put an end to this." His voice was soft, almost reverent, and she felt the unspoken promise in his words.
The air in the Dorsoduro district was thick with the heady scent of wine and the hum of lively conversation, mingling with the rich, earthy smells of the canal water that wound through the city like a lifeline. The sun had dipped low, casting a warm, amber glow over the narrow streets, where shadows stretched long across worn cobblestones. It was a Venice Amelia had come to know well, its rhythms and secrets etched into her bones over the years she had spent here. She adjusted her hood as she and Ezio navigated the bustling alleys, the fabric brushing against her cheek, a familiar comfort. Her thoughts, however, remained sharp and focused, the weight of their mission settling heavily on her shoulders—finding Antonio and catching up on everything she had missed during Ezio's absence.
The city buzzed with life, courtesans laughing behind painted fans, merchants shouting their final deals before nightfall, and the distant strains of a lute drifting from a nearby tavern. Yet, even amidst the lively chaos, there was a tension in the air, an undercurrent of danger that had grown since the new Doge had taken power. Amelia had seen firsthand the effects of the Templars' influence seeping through the city like poison, and she felt the urgency thrumming beneath her skin as they pressed on.
They stepped into the courtyard of the brothel—a place that had become a second home of sorts during Ezio's absence. The air inside was thick with perfume and the low murmur of conversations behind velvet curtains. The laughter of the courtesans mingled with the muted strum of a lute, and despite the weight of her worries, Amelia couldn't help but feel a small pang of familiarity. Venice had its share of hardships, but it still held a certain charm that wrapped around her like the evening mist.
Antonio's voice cut through the warm, dim light of the brothel, rich with his usual charisma. His laugh rang out, and Amelia found herself smiling despite the tension that coiled in her chest. For all the darkness that lurked beyond these walls, this place had become a refuge for those who sought a little respite from the city's shadows.
Ezio led the way through the open doors, pulling off his mask as they reached Antonio's side. His movements were as confident as ever, but Amelia could sense the tension coiling beneath the surface, the way his gaze swept over their surroundings with a restless edge. He was on high alert—aware that the city he had left behind was no longer the same, that danger lurked in places that had once felt like home.
"Antonio. We need to talk," Ezio's voice cut through the din, bringing Antonio's attention sharply to him. The casual chatter in the room quieted, and the courtesans paused in their conversations, their curious gazes following the reunion.
Antonio's expression shifted from casual curiosity to wide-eyed surprise, his jaw dropping as he recognized Ezio. "Ezio!? Ezio Auditore!" He broke into a broad grin, clapping Ezio on the shoulder with a hearty laugh that echoed through the room. "Teodora, meet the most... ahem... talented man in all of Venezia!"
Amelia hovered a step behind, her sharp gaze sweeping over the faces of those who had become her allies in the years since Ezio's departure. She offered a small smile, inclining her head respectfully toward the woman standing beside Antonio—Sister Teodora, a matron with a sharp wit and a heart that carried more compassion than many expected. Teodora's eyes gleamed with amusement as she took in the scene.
"Madonna... Ah! 'Sister' Teodora... I never imagined you as a religious type," Ezio remarked with a faint smirk, trying to ease the tension that clung to his shoulders.
Teodora's smile grew, her expression knowing. "It depends on how you understand religion, my son," she replied smoothly, a playful edge in her voice. "It's not just men's souls that call for soothing."
Antonio, ever the charmer, gestured grandly, his arm sweeping to encompass the entire room. "Come! Join us, Ezio! Have a drink! Meet the ladies!" His tone softened as he turned to Amelia, his expression warm. "You too, Amelia. You've been working yourself too hard. Even a guardian angel needs rest now and then."
Amelia offered a wry smile but shook her head, feeling the weight of their mission settle firmly on her shoulders. "Maybe later, Antonio. First, we need to—"
A piercing scream tore through the air, cutting off her words. All eyes shot to the staircase, where a woman clutched the bannister, her face pale with terror, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "Murderer! Butcher! He sliced Lucia and stole her money!"
Amelia's blood ran cold, and she saw Ezio tense beside her, his hand already reaching for the hilt of his hidden blade. The air thickened with tension, every muscle in Amelia's body coiled like a spring. There was barely time to react before a man came barreling down the stairs, his eyes wild, his breaths ragged with fear.
Without hesitation, Amelia surged forward, her instincts sharp from years spent surviving on these streets. Her movements were fluid, purposeful, and in a swift motion, she unsheathed her blade. The man stumbled as he reached the doorway, but she was faster, closing the distance between them with deadly precision.
She caught up to him, shoving him against the rough stone wall with a force that knocked the air from his lungs. The edge of her blade pressed against his throat, the cold metal a stark warning against his pulse. His breaths came in sharp, panicked bursts, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at her, chest heaving.
"Don't make a move," she hissed, her voice as cold and unyielding as the steel in her hand. She leaned in closer, close enough that he could feel the heat of her breath against his skin, the anger simmering beneath her calm exterior. "Or I'll carve you open right here."
The man flinched, his eyes darting wildly around the room as if searching for an escape, but her grip was unyielding. "Who the hell are you? Get away from me!" he spat, voice cracking with desperation. "Stay back! Or I'll kill them—I swear it. It wasn't my fault! She laughed at me! She made me do it. Another one's blood will be on your hands!"
Amelia's jaw clenched, a sharp surge of disgust twisting in her chest at his cowardice. She pressed the blade harder against his throat, her patience fraying at the edges. "Enough excuses. You don't get to hurt anyone else," she said, her voice low and edged with a fierce determination that left no room for argument.
He squirmed, trying to wriggle free, but her hold remained firm, the fire of her anger burning just beneath the surface. "What are you?" he sneered, desperation slipping into false bravado. "Some kind of benefattore del cazzo? (fucking do-gooder)? Leave me alone!"
Amelia's gaze hardened, her lips pulling into a grim line. In that moment, she made her decision, her hand steady as she drove the blade into his throat, cutting off his next words with a wet, choked gurgle. Blood bubbled from the wound, staining her hand, and his eyes widened in shock as the life drained from them. She pulled back, letting his body slump to the ground, the adrenaline still singing through her veins.
Her chest heaved, breath coming fast, the echo of her actions ringing in her ears. The room around her seemed to sharpen, every detail suddenly too bright, too loud—the sound of footsteps, the murmur of shocked voices. She looked up, catching sight of Rosa and Antonio's men rushing forward, their faces set with grim determination.
Rosa reached her side first, grabbing her arm with a look of concern. "Amelia! Are you alright?" she asked, her usual bravado tempered with genuine worry.
Amelia nodded, swallowing hard against the tightness in her throat. "I'm fine," she managed, her voice rough. But her hands still trembled, and she struggled to steady her breathing as she wiped the blood from her blade.
Antonio's men moved quickly, dragging the man's lifeless body away, and Rosa wrapped an arm around Amelia's shoulders, guiding her back toward the safety of the brothel. The familiar streets blurred around her, the weight of her actions settling like a stone in her chest. But she held her head high, refusing to let the guilt take root. They had chosen this life—she had chosen it. And she would do what needed to be done.