Reverse: 1999 story · Event stories
La Primavera di Firenze
12 scenes, 1,210 lines
1. Particles of Chaos
130 linesLaboratory environment initialized
Interferometer activated
<speed=2>Particle generation mode enabled Estimated particle consumption: 3.4 x 10^6
Temperature: 22°C, relative humidity: 65%
Observers in position Loading vitals ...
It's started to rain.
Oh my! We nearly walked into the rain without any protection! The Observer Instruction Book should've told us to bring our Equilibrium Umbrella.
No need for excess perspiration. The rain you're seeing is completely dissimilar to the "Storm."
Just a byproduct generated by this device, the Huygens-Fresnel Interferometer. It was built to observe the interaction between particular entities and chaotic systems.
So this device about our heads ... is an interferometer?
That's right! We'll be utilizing it during our experiment, that to jog your memory—you volunteered for—Thanks for that, by the way.
Ms. Regulus and Ms. Sotheby already went in ahead of you. You'll probably find them in the world you're going to. Now, prepare for an enthralling adventure!
The two lab rats don't match the experimenter's enthusiasm.
The instruction book says this machine sends our minds to other worlds, and the destinations are particular to a time and place. Do I have that right?
Wow, you actually did your homework for once. Yep, it's true, these particular sorts of places have many names: quantum superpositions, simulated worlds, space-time bubbles ... Call it whatever you like.
I kind of like the name "Stage in the Rain."
"Stage in the Rain," sounds lovely! This APPLe can't wait to visit a new world.
Now, how do we begin? Are there any experimental procedures we must go through? Let me guess: "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and walk clockwise in a circle three times" ...
X offers an amused laugh at APPLe's natural humor.
No need. Besides, how would I get you to "walk" in a circle?
Well ... This APPLe doesn't see a problem.
With that said, if you have no strict procedure, what exactly are you intending with this experiment? Is it a novel scientific experience, or just a jolly bit of fun?
X shrugs.
Oh. It's a serious experiment. One in which I propose to examine the very randomness that we usually attempt to avoid.
As you stand on the stage, breathing in and out ...
The raindrops' behavior should start to change.
Because I'm breathing on the stage?
More precisely, because you exist on the stage. Go ahead and touch the raindrops.
APPLe taps on one of the raindrops that hang in the air, as if it were a miniature heart.
What ...?
The raindrops are chaotic at first but a pattern emerges as they bounce and spin before the red fruit, giving off a soft glow.
On the surface they could be mistaken for any other raindrop, yet ancient secrets hide within their apparent randomness.
See? You're so much more than an external spectator. You were able to affect the system.
Your actions, including your observations, no matter how inconsequential they may seem ...
... can lead the system to produce unequivocally varied results. Alright, now ...
Numbers pop up on the screen at a blinding pace; X widens his eyes to keep track.
Vitals loaded
Activating chaos particles:
<speed=0.8>97.6%, 98% ...
<speed=0.7>99.9% ...
Entering the Stage in the Rain
Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.
*snore*
The snoring fruit's consciousness traveled through a dark, raining area to arrive where he is now. Just as the rain's patter disappears, he catches the sound of two distant voices.
And you're certain of this?
Unquestionably. Listen, what you hear now is the turbulence of air as it passes through its airway. As the soft tissues within vibrate they produce a familiar sound. It is "snoring."
This condition is commonly reckoned to be caused by a disorder of black bile in the body. Though, I would posit anatomically speaking, that it is nothing more than the relaxation of throat muscles during deep slumber.
We know what snoring is—what we want to know is how an apple can snore.
*snore* Uh? Apple?
A strangely dressed man is standing by APPLe's side, surrounded by a group of soldiers. The wall they form has blocked all the exits.
With curiosity and caution in their eyes, the man and the soldiers stare at the helpless fruit, who has been pinned on the altar.
Erhm ... Good day, gentlemen. I believe I owe you thanks for this generous hospitality, unusual as it may be ...
Did you hear that? It appears to have spoken! If that's so, then no wonder it can snore.
Enough. Speaking—snoring, it doesn't matter. We didn't hire you to lecture us on medicine.
"Hire," you say? That's odd way of putting it, after you cracked my ribs and hauled me here from Milan. I think some might instead call that "kidnapping."—I think I've caught a fever ...
Stop whining: we barely bruised you! It was probably just the bumpy roads on the way to Firenze.
Firenze? Am I in Italy? Erhm, gentlemen, may I ask where I am and who you are?
You're the most curious apple I've ever known! Of course, we're in the great city of Firenze, Penisola Italiana.
These "gentlemen" you refer to here are known as the Templars. As for me ...
I am Leonardo of Vinci. Though, please call me Leonardo!
Wait, Leonardo?
The sun shining in from the window illuminates the man's gentle smile.
You're da Vinci?! Leonardo da Vinci, the great painter?
But please, as I said, I prefer just Leonardo.
Leonardo the inventor, or Leonardo the engineer—perhaps even the anatomist? I should hope there is more to my reputation than just painting.
Leonardo's smile doesn't waver at all as the blade of his scalpel glints under the sunlight.
Okay, it's safe to conclude you must be the mythical apple they've been looking for. I've never heard of any other talking apples.
And I must conclude you are indeed THE Leonardo da Vinci.
Although ... If I might ask, Leonardo, what are you planning to do with that scalpel? And might this APPLe request you point it some other way?
You see, pointing a knife at someone is seen as somewhat unfriendly where I'm from.
Please, do not worry, sir. This scalpel is a very delicate instrument, one of my favorites. Cold, sharp, and painless!
One swift cut, and it will find its way straight through the skin down to your core without spilling a drop of juice.
Leonardo leers closer to APPLe.
Allow me to be honest with you and state things clearly: I have been asked to cut you into quarters so that I might record the make-up and consistency of your inner flesh—crisp, I'd wager.
Next I'll soak you—I mean, your pieces—into a special solution so that I might ...
Oh, my apologies. I always get a bit excited whenever I start talking about my work. Now, hold still, Mr. Golden Apple ...
Leonardo reaches down toward the pinned APPLe, his smile increasingly less gentle and more wild.
Just a little slice.
Stop this madness! I'll have you know what you're about to do is a severe violation of the Geneva Convention!
What the devil are you talking about? I'm growing more and more curious about you ...
The apple breaks free from his restraints and bounds around the room, but there is nowhere to hide, and the little fruit is eventually cornered.
Oh no ... Calm down! We can solve this in a civilized manner, can't we, like proper gentlemen?
There is no need for propriety when dealing with witchcraft like whatever created you. Now, if you want to save yourself some pain, I suggest you stop.
I feel like I'm in a nightmare! What in the world could you want with this APPLe for?
I can answer that. These "gentlemen" believe you to be the key to a rumored secret chamber.
Of course, to prove their theory, they "hired" me to figure out just what it is that you are.
Leonardo bends down low; as if about to pick him up, but instead, he leans close and whispers.
I don't intend to hurt you. Just cooperate for now. Help is on the way.
... Help?
Before APPLe can say more, Leonardo straightens up and shakes his head.
Oh. I do apologize, gentlemen. But I think there might have been a misunderstanding.
You expect us to believe that?
An emotionless voice comes from the corner, followed by a towering man in armor.
Perhaps you've forgotten.
Months ago, a golden apple was found floating in the Arno by a fisherman.
Being a faithful man, he brought it to the church. And there something strange happened.
Strange? What are you talking about? I'm only an apple.
The Templar commander raises his chin at Leonardo.
You—Demonstrate for our guest.
Leonardo puts on a long face.
I've already demonstrated it a dozen times ...
The towering man rests his hand on the sword at his waist, tilting it forward with intent.
But of course, I would be glad to demonstrate once more, sir.
Whoa! Please be careful.
Leonardo picks up APPLe and paces the room, trying to find the right angle beneath the sunlight.
The soldiers are leaning against the wall, enjoying a reprieve from the heat outside.
As soon as Leonardo raises APPLe, however, they all stand straight and stare at him.
Found it! The perfect angle!
Leonardo walks to the fresco, looking at the blurred faces of the figures on it.
Who are they?
Persons unknown.
Their identity is plainly a mystery to everyone in the room.
They do not appear to be the sort that would usually be recorded in the annals of history, and there is not even a subtle hint of their identity beyond their visage.
Nothing that might indicate the artist's intent in depicting them, nor in choosing to paint them in what can only be abject sorrow.
Is that all? According to this APPLe's experience, you should only need to cast an incantation to reveal the details.
Call it magic, miracle, or trick as you like. All that I can see is a mystery that must be unraveled. Now wait ...
What for?
For the perfect ray of light.
When half the sun sinks below the horizon, a particular beam of light travels through the golden apple, turning into warm light spots.
As the light reaches the fresco, the blurred faces are suddenly illuminated.
And so the miracle is recreated—
Blimey! What's going on?!
It's beyond me to explain what I am seeing here. I've examined both the wall and your skin for some time, but found nothing.
This may truly be a miracle.
Gentlemen, there's a line of letters down there.
Oh, it's nothing but a Caesar cipher. I can decode this in no time. Let me see ...
Sub cadente fulgore, cadentia sanctuaria coniunguntur.
Under the waning glow, the waning sanctuaries unite.
2. "Knightly Virtues"
140 linesIt looks like an apple, shiny and red, a magical key to what's ahead! When the sun sets low, the truth will start to show!
I beg your pardon, what's that song those children are singing about?
Hello, miss. You look a little out of place here; might I guess you are a traveler like me?
... Of a sort, yes, mister.
Most excellent; I always enjoy an opportunity to guide a newcomer.
The strangely out-of-place merchant clears his throat and begins again.
The famed poet once claimed that Firenze was the most beautiful and renowned daughter of Rome.
I suppose it is for that reason that many travelers come here seeking the source of that claim, searching for the lost treasures of a fallen empire.
He leans in and lowers his voice.
But I hear a rumor now that people are pursuing a new target in our dear Firenze ...
Could you mean this Golden Apple? It seems like everyone is talking about it.
Just so. It seems you know a little bit more about this rumor than you've let on.
There are those that say the apple can reveal a "miracle" when raised before certain frescoes in the city; since then a dark cloud has gathered over us.
For now there are many here that seek the Compliners' treasures.
The Compliners ... that's quite the unusual name, were they singers of some sort?
They say they were a heretical cult, one that gathered in the city to sing heretical liturgies at dusk, hence the name.
And apparently they stashed away their relics in a secret chamber somewhere in the Duomo di Firenze.
The book merchant points at the towering dome of the cathedral.
The Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Flower, but the locals call it the Duomo di Firenze, or simply Il Duomo.
She stands in the center of Florence like a queen presiding over her kingdom.
Apparently they would go there to perform unspeakable acts of evil, defiling the purpose of that beautiful dome.
The book merchant looks around and makes a gesture of horror.
But the rumors say the relics they've hidden there are worth an incalculable fortune.
... Hmm?
Bah, all you need to know is it's worth a lot!
Enough they say, that the one who finds it would be wealthy enough to buy the whole of Firenze.
Are you serious? You're suggesting there is enough money hidden there to buy a city? That's absurd!
The book merchant strokes his beard and laughs.
How do you think the Medicis took control in the first place? Money! It can buy art, soldiers, even the papacy! Compared to that, what's so odd about buying a city?
I see. A secret chamber with treasures ... I do believe I've heard this tall tale before.
Oh, have you now? Well, have you ever heard of a story where the secret entrance to this chamber can only be found through messages hidden in frescoes?
That is a new embellishment on the story. I suppose then ...
That must be why this Golden Apple and its "miracles" have everyone's attention.
Brava, miss! So, you must be one of those treasure hunters, I guess?
... In a way, yes.
I knew it. But I'm afraid you have your work cut out for you. The dome is larger than you might think. This isn't something you can find searching inch by inch. The only way to find the chamber is to solve the mystery of the frescoes.
Then it looks like I'll need some help.
The book merchant lights up as she speaks. The next second, he thrusts a delicate manuscript into her hands.
Yes! And this is certain to be the help you need! It includes copies of all the frescoes that reacted to the Golden Apple.
It has a silk cover, tempera painting, and gilded edges. Buy it now, and I'll throw in a free collection of Dante's poetry!
Trust me, traveler. With this, you will find the treasures you seek!
Hold on. If you've already collected all this information, why aren't you looking for the treasure?
Wealth enough to buy an entire city; I have to wonder why you would pass up that opportunity.
I'm no treasure hunter, miss. Nor do I think the life of a prince would suit me. I'm content making a living selling the keys to this fortune to others.
The book merchant raises the manuscript and puts the other hand on his chest, looking regretful.
The price is usually 10 florins, but as you're my eighth customer today—
—You know, in Firenze, the number eight is said to bring good luck and eternal hope! That is why the Battistero di San Giovanni and the Duomo di Firenze have octagonal domes.
So, for you, eight florins! No, no, make that five! The most detailed and useful manuscript around for just five florins! You don't want to miss out!
Sorry, but I don't have any money with me.
The merchant goes silent, the air between them painfully tense.
At last he slaps the manuscript down on his stall.
How could you make it all the way to Firenze without a florin on you?! Ridiculous!
I've no more time to spend on you, miss. Best you get back to your hunt.
Hold on, I heard that this Golden Apple could talk and even fly in the air ... It might have something to do with my missing friend.
It sounds like I need this manuscript in order to find him. So, is there anything I can do for you? I can handle any issues related to arcan- ... I mean, magic.
We could do an exchange, my magical services for your manuscript ...
She stops herself, waiting for some signal from the man.
The merchant offers no trace of sympathy.
Not interested. Now, go away!
That's just about everything I know about the Compliners, the secret chamber, and their relics.
I see ...
The man's words are too much information for the little fruit's nerves to handle at one time.
We've gone to great effort to acquire you, apple. Before us, you'd been traded to the Palazzo, then San Marco, and even the Thieves' Guild ...
And me!
The armored man kicks Leonardo roughly, sending him sprawling from the ground into a nearby wall.
Less talking, more slicing!
From now on, you do as I say. Understand?
A small trickle of blood seeps from a fresh cut on Leonardo's head, but there's nothing he can do but compose himself with a bitter smile.
*cough* Yes, I understand.
And what about me? Do you ruffians intend to beat this APPLe into compliance?
Hah. We don't have to; you're as good as dead out there. Here, we might just keep you alive if you have some use.
Not that it matters, you don't have a choice.
Sir, incomin- ...
The soldier falls to the ground before he finishes the word. The veins on his face turning green.
What?!
It's poison ... Assassins!
He must be on that roof!
An eagle glides low just above the cathedral before letting out a loud screech.
Is that an eagle? It's rare to see one in the city, isn't it?
Leonardo grabs APPLe and runs toward the eagle's shadow.
He's here. Our rescuer is here.
Ezio!!
A man in a gray hood jumps down on two soldiers precisely.
Two blades spring from his sleeves, penetrating their chests before they can even react.
Ezio Auditore ... Assassin ...
Their hearts stop before they've even fallen.
A crimson splash covers the ground near them.
The assassin withdraws his blades in a fluid, almost casual movement. As if he had done nothing at all.
He lowers his head reverently as the men drop beside him.
Death be not unkind.
Rest in peace.
More and more soldiers rush in through the gate of the monastery.
Round them up!
It seems I underestimated their strength.
We need to get out of here straight away.
Leonardo points at APPLe, who is still trying to figure out what's happening.
We should split up, Ezio! Here, take him with you!
You know where to find me!
No problem, friend.
Get him! Get them all!
Leonardo!
Don't worry. He is an honored guest of the Duke of Milan. They might chase him, but they dare not harm him in public.
But we are not so lucky. Now let's go.
Well, it seems like this APPLe doesn't have much of a choice. You at least seem more polite than my previous captors.
APPLe climbs onto the Assassin's shoulder.
Ezio enters a sprint before effortlessly scaling up to a nearby roof.
They've gone towards the Palazzo! Capture them!
You're welcome to try. Hold tight.
Sure ... Whoa!
The Assassin navigates the Florentine roofs with as much ease as a fish through water. Soon enough they've lost their tail.
Hey, did you see that? Up on the roof, I think I saw something gold!
Gold ... Is it the Golden Apple?! Get them!
One pursuer, two pursuers, three ...
More and more citizens join the hunt. The streets of Florence have never been more chaotic.
I'm going to be rich! Rich! Get out of my way!
Goodness me! I've never felt so popular! This must be what the Captain feels like!
Pardon me, but would you mind speeding up a little? I'm beginning to feel a little like a turkey on Christmas Eve.
A turkey ...?
It doesn't matter; speed won't help us now. They're everywhere. But there's still a way out ...
Ezio casts his eyes up to the top of the tower of the Palazzo.
We go up.
20 minutes later
I think we're safe now.
This APPLe certainly appreciates your climbing skills—no one can reach us up here.
Alert but silent, Ezio scans their surroundings.
Don't be too confident of that. The Templars have learned to climb after so many years chasing us.
They can show up on the roof at any time.
I see! Then this APPLe will keep alert and ready for danger!
The sun hangs low in the sky, slowly sinking into the embrace of the evening glow.
Scarlet clouds and golden sunlight blend into one another on the horizon, spilling onto every tile and brick of this ancient city.
Beneath Ezio's feet, countless rooftops form a red terracotta expanse, spreading out to the city's farthest edge.
He looks down in silence, feeling like a bird gone astray.
Wow! This is truly an amazing view.
Firenze ... It's been too long.
Not far away, the cathedral stands tall and solemn, her towering form blurred by the golden light of the setting sun, yet no less majestic.
And with the sunset, her shadow extends until it has covered nearly half the city.
That must be the Cathedral. Is it really where the relics are hidden?
Yes, I believe so. I've spent some time searching, I've even explored its catacombs, but I haven't any idea where it might be.
Ezio gazes out at the perfect arc of the dome.
Finding this secret chamber is what truly matters.
3. Free Falling
104 linesOh, I nearly forgot to introduce myself. My name is APPLe. I owe you my thanks, sir ...
Ezio Auditore. But just Ezio is fine.
Of course, Ezio. This APPLe is something of a ... visitor from far away.
Ezio nods.
Is that so? You know, you haven't gone unnoticed, I heard word of you from my allies many months ago. They've been tracking you for some time.
I was being followed? Blimey.
We might have never even known you were anything but an ordinary fruit—if you hadn't started talking in your sleep.
Leonardo has told you what's going on, yes? Is there anything you don't understand?
Anything? Everything! These Templars, the Compliners, the frescoes ... And you for that matter!
The wind seems to carry his voice far further than it should.
I know your friend was only stalling for time ... but he all but scared the life out of me when he came at me with that scalpel.
There are many things that need explaining; for now, you need only know that these men are Templars, ancient enemies of the Assassins.
The war between us has lasted a long, long time ... I fear it will never end.
I see ... Isn't there a more peaceful way to solve this? Too often violence only treats the symptoms while letting the disease grow.
I wish there was, but no. Too many have died to the ambition of the Templars. Even my own ...
Ezio pauses, hanging on the next word.
Still, there is wisdom in what you say. Violence has a habit of making things worse.
But there is a chance now to end this; to destroy them once and for all. So that no one else must suffer.
Ezio puts his right hand on his chest and bows to APPLe.
I'm sorry we dragged you into this, Mr. APPLe.
But we must not let the Templars get the relics, so ... we need to know where you stand.
You and Leonardo seem to be close.
The statement confuses Ezio, who eyes APPLe looking for some glimmer of intent. Until, at last, he nods.
Yes. We've known each other for a long time.
Great. Then you have my full trust.
Huh ...?
APPLe clears his throat.
I am certain that Leonardo is a good person ... if the history books—erhm, I mean, my intuition is anything to go by.
So, I believe that one of his close friends must also be trustworthy.
Oh?
The Assassin smiles.
Good to see my charm hasn't dulled. Thanks for your trust.
Before we go, please allow this APPLe to make a request.
Anything, friend. I am at your service.
When I first came to Florence, I was supposed to be with some friends ... but we were separated.
Would you help me find them? And keep them safe, if need be.
Given the circumstances, I worry this city may become quite dangerous for them.
No problem.
Then I must repay your "thanks," sir.
If we succeed here, then there is nothing I could do that will ever compare to what the world will owe you.
This APPLe is only too happy to help.
I'm certain the Captain would be jealous if she found out I were so sought after, but this APPLe enjoys a little attention too sometimes.
Everyone has their moment in the sun. When the time comes, even the least of us can change the course of history.
He holds out his hand.
So, then we are agreed? We join forces?
The evening glow witnesses an agreement between an apple and an assassin.
Naturally!
Leonardo will be waiting for us at his workshop. Are you ready?
Ready for what, our visit? Oh, by jove. Perhaps I should prepare a gift first ...
Ezio walks to the edge of the scaffolding with purpose.
He crouches, looking down at the busy street beneath their perch. In that moment he looks almost like an eagle searching for prey.
Now, are you ready to jump?
From here? ... Down there?
This APPLe can fly, of course, but from this height ... I doubt you would survive. I suggest we find another way.
Why waste time?
The wind blows past their ears.
The assassin grabs the golden apple and leaps into the air with all the confidence of an eagle taking flight.
*thud*
*cough*
The air reeks of straw and soil.
They land with precision in a cart full of hay.
This APPLe may have experienced some anoxia during our fall. I'm so dizzy ...
Shh ...
Quiet. Don't give our hiding spot away.
Night has fallen. The man and the fruit hidden in the hay can hear the sound of marching footsteps.
O, you! You with the blue hat!
The street falls silent after that. All the people around the lady with the blue hat, including the two hiding in the hay, wait on her reply.
Good evening ... gentlemen. Is there something wrong?
The encounter just beyond their hay-strewn lair continues.
I have never seen someone dressed like you before; where are you from? What are you doing in Firenze?
I'm a visitor to Florence. Here's my identification ...
The soldier waves his hand impatiently.
It doesn't matter. Tell me, have you seen a man in a gray hood pass by?
...
She glances over to the corner of the street.
Not far from view a pile of hay lies gently rustling in the night air, looking entirely and inescapably ordinary.
Not that I know of.
Then have you seen something ... eh, something golden ...
The soldier draws something like a circle in the air clumsily.
... Hmm?
Come on. She's useless.
Keep moving.
The clang of metal echoes around then fades away as the lively sounds of night return.
After a while, a voice rings out softly from just outside their hiding spot.
You alright in there?
The voice hints at an unexpected reunion.
Vertin! Oh, this APPLe is ever so glad to see you again, if only I didn't look a right mess ... Please give me a minute.
With all the talk about a "golden apple" I had a feeling I would find you here.
Looks like luck's in my favor this time.
But how did you get in here? Did you jump from that tower?
Erhm, it's a long story.
Good evening, miss. You have my thanks for your assistance.
Is she one of the friends you talked about, APPLe?
That's right! This is Vertin, a most trustworthy friend and companion!
I appreciate the compliment, Mr. APPLe. And who is this gentleman?
This is Ezio Auditore, an assassin!
An assassin? Really?
Please, don't let the reputation of our name confuse you. We assassins kill only when there is a just cause.
But maybe I can explain later. The curfew will begin soon, and I'd like to avoid any further complications with the guards.
My friend must be worried about us already.
4. The Dark of the Arno
89 linesCome forth, prayers of the night! Our blood reddens the offering; our tears blacken the Arno. Our children are reborn among the blooming flowers, While the face of God vanishes from the painted frame.
We are the corrupted.
Dim candlelight flickers over errant books and draft papers, casting shadows on the wall.
Leonardo is fully engrossed within the book held in front of him.
"They sang and danced to the heretic's music."
"Then they cut their wrists to shed blood; mixed it with hair and soil and painted the mixture on the wall."
"The air smelled strange. I started to laugh and dance just like they did ..."
*creak*
The door is cracked followed by the sound of heels stepping on the old wooden floor.
Despite the noises, the man doesn't stir from his book.
"Blood on the wall, reborn from the ashes."
"Blood on the wall, reborn from the tears."
"Blood on the wall, reborn from the flesh."
The one who entered the room halts their steps.
And all falls completely mute.
What?!
Leonardo at last takes notice of the figure in the room.
As it approaches him like a ghost from the shadows.
Right behind him, creeping closer and closer.
Good evening ...?
The "ghost" shrouds Leonardo and his book in its shadow and whispers to him ...
"Blood on the wall, I am reborn."
Ahhh!!
Leonardo jumps like a frightened rabbit, stirring up the pages on the ground.
What's wrong, Mr. Leonardo? I was only reading the rest of the spell.
Oh, I get it. You were having fun reading those horror stories all alone. I understand, I do love a good ghost story!
You might've considered knocking, my lady.
The young lady snorts presumptuously.
Mr. Leonardo? Mr. Leonardo? Mr. Leonardo!
I called your name three times in a row! But no one answered!
How could you be so rude as to ignore your patroness? I didn't mean to scare you, but Miss Sotheby has no time to waste.
My apologies. I've been entranced in the words ... It's a record of the Compliners' ritual. The author claims to have been part of it and escaped alive.
The ones you've mentioned before? That nasty group of gremlins that used to meet in the cathedral in secret?
Yes. They are also the ones who have secreted away the relics that Ezio is searching for.
My messenger must have told you why I invited you to come by. Your father just confiscated some manuscripts ...
Oh, I think you're mistaken! Mr. Domenico is not my father. Though I am very grateful for his help.
He's not your father? But I was certain that you were introduced as such.
It's a long story.
The young lady looks up wistfully as she recalls the events.
I was wandering around the Palazzo when some gentlemen arrived. As I recall, they were all members of the Decemviri.
One of them was Mr. Domenico! All of a sudden he rushed up to me and asked if I was his daughter, he said that I had gone missing many years ago.
Hmm ... No offense, my lady, but that sounds a little like how they kidnap children in Santa Croce.
Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Leonardo, but Sotheby is a mature young lady who can protect herself! After all, I'm standing here talking to you in one piece!
Anyway, he started crying about the garden he had built for her and how it had all the rarest plants he could find ...
He even said he had Tahitian bridal veil, Egyptian privet, and devil's tree! So ...
*sigh* Fortune certainly seems to be on your side.
Now, did he give you the manuscripts? I can't imagine he would say no to his long-lost daughter.
The young lady nods proudly.
Ta-da! Miss Sotheby already took the liberty of checking them all. This one is well-crafted and has the most details.
It was confiscated from a book merchant. He said ...
The young lady clears her throat before she continues.
"It has a silk cover, tempera painting, and gilded edges. Buy it now, and I'll throw in a free collection of Dante's poetry!!"
Begin the Maenalian verses with me, my flute.
How was that? Miss Sotheby has been practicing her Latin!
... Brava! Your "father" would be moved to tears if he heard that.
Now that I've given you a hand, could you ...
The young lady is struck by an uncharacteristic shyness.
Hmm? Don't tell me you want to join ...
The young lady seems to almost float with anticipation.
...
I'm sorry, my lady. But this is not the sort of adventure suitable for a young woman.
I barely survived my own encounter with the Templars. Don't presume that they will show you mercy simply because you are a nobleman's daughter.
My lady, I'm sorry, but I could never forgive myself if I let you be hurt. Whatever "adventure" awaits us at Il Duomo, I do not believe it will be fun.
There's no need to worry. Miss Sotheby can protect herself and more than just that ...
She raises her head proudly, adopting a proud and noble pose.
I can make potions, aid in teamwork, research critters, read Latin, give orders, and even fight any villains we may find!
Just let me prove it!
Leonardo may be a man of many talents, but fighting is not one of them, and soon he ends up cornered by the little arcanist.
Hooray! My screaming roots and popeye slime worked!
Calm down, my lady ... Alright, please have mercy. You can join us. You've more than proved your ability.
Hands on the head, Leonardo rushes toward the door, trying to run away from the little witch.
*thud*
Ouch! Who could this be ...
It seems like I've missed a party.
Ezio, Mr. APPLe! I knew you would get rid of those Templars!
Oh, and you've even brought us a new friend.
Good evening, Mister Leonardo. I've heard a lot about you—on my way here.
Hmm? That lady behind you ...
As heels hit the wooden floor again, a green tornado swooshes by Leonardo and charges forward.
Vertin!!
A heartwarming reunion. The young lady can't help hugging her friend in a swirling embrace.
*sob* You're finally here! Have you any idea what I've been through? Miss Sotheby had to attend classes and even study Latin!
And my teachers were even stricter than Mr. Karson!
The anxiety of exploring a new place is all at once driven away.
She takes a deep breath to enjoy the moment. Taking in the pleasant smells of the Tuscan air; with odd hints of citrus and the unmistakable smell of goat cheese.
...
I'm so glad I've finally found you, Sotheby.
5. Practical Geometry
34 linesI see. Each of us seems to have had our own adventures after we arrived. How interesting and, and ...
Wonderfully fun!
So, then we each arrived here in the stage ... I mean, in Florence, at different times. How odd.
As far as this APPLe recalls, the instruction book didn't mention anything about that.
...
So, then you and your friends came here on a sort of pilgrimage? Was it a journey of discovery, or is it simply that you wished to see the beauty of Firenze?
*sigh* It was only supposed to be a quick journey, but something happened along the way. Accidents, murders, and now the threat of an all-out war.
Again, I'm sorry, but we're in need of your help, Mr. APPLe.
What do you mean "we"?
My friends and allies, my fellow Assassins.
"Assassins" ... Mister Ezio, I need to know more about this organization of yours before making any decisions.
A straightforward request.
...
Okay. I'll tell you whatever you need to know; if it is in my power to tell you.
The Assassins have a long history; we do not serve kings nor do we kill for money. We fight for peace and for the freedom of mankind.
Hmm ... That's very noble of you; I imagine you face many obstructions to that goal. Am I right that these "Templars" are one of those obstacles?
Yes. They've long been opposed to us.
They prefer to impose their vision of "order" on others—they will stop at nothing until they control the whole world.
If "order" is what they're after, this APPLe does sympathize with them to some extent. There is no such thing as "absolute justice." But we can all do our best to pursue it.
No, no ... Nothing of what they do could be called "justice."
This "order" they believe in is only a disguise; all they truly desire is control.
Their rise to power would be the end of freedom; no one would be spared.
The man furrows his brows, his expression revealing an unusual hint of disdain.
...
I see.
Vertin relaxes her stance, satisfied with the hooded man's answers.
Ask anything of us, we will do it for you—anything within our reach.
Alright, as Mr. APPLe is already deeply involved in this ...
I must admit I am curious about his change in appearance. Maybe we will find our answer to that in this secret chamber.
Thanks, friend.
Okay. Now that we've reached an agreement, allow me to continue studying this manuscript.
Hmm, I've seen this before.
Miss Sotheby only borrowed it for us. We'll have to return it soon, so our time is short.
Let's get started and see what clues we can find!
6. Chirps and Chatter
172 linesAfternoon of the Next Day
Is that you, Mr. Leonardo?!
Thank God! I still hadn't truly believed the rumors of your return.
I know. *sigh* There was some trouble in Milan.
We've heard about the scandal concerning Duke Sforza. How savage ...
That's why I came back, with a creative fever inspired by my pains.
The old priest gasps as if the young painter's words stung his ears.
I see ... So, then have you come to finish the Assumption of Mary?
It's been four years since you left. We've been careful to leave it untouched. Now, by the light of the Lord, you're finally back ...
We emptied the Duomo as you requested. I promise no one will bother you.
Thank you. I must get to work right away. My inspiration may fade at any moment.
Hmm, but who are these ladies?
Good day, Father. I am here as Mr. Leonardo's apprentice.
And uhm ... why, why ... I'm here to evaluate his work for my father, of course!
Allow me to present, Father Alberto, Miss Sotheby Domenico.
She's provided huge support for my art career, so, to show my gratitude, I've asked her to model.
For the Assumption of Mary?!
The old priest dabs a bead of sweat off of his forehead unconsciously.
This lady is a bit young, don't you think? And not exactly how I had pictured Mary ...
Who is the artist, Father? Do not let your mind be so entrenched by outdated styles.
When you look for a model, you must focus on their soul not simply their flesh! You pay too much attention to her appearance, yet neglect what's inside.
The Assumption of Mary depicts the Madonna's reception into heaven, not just in body but in spirit as well.
And what do you think best captures that moment, Father?
Umm ... Ehh ...
Leonardo gestures at Sotheby, presenting her like a showman.
Right! That innocence and vitality! She may be a little young, but her spirit is perfect ...
In fact, it is that innocence which makes her more qualified than anyone! She will be indispensable for my work. For my inspiration, you know ...
Huh? Oh, well. Then, I must thank you for your compliment, Mr. Leonardo.
...
You have convinced me once again, Leonardo! Although something tells me that we should go deeper into this topic ...
Another time perhaps; for now I will trust in your piety and capability. Please let me know if you need anything else.
As it happens, there is something, Father.
You see, I would like to try some new perspective techniques on this work. I know that Paolo Uccello is a master of perspective. Do you have any of his works around?
Yes! Saint George and the Dragon. One of his masterpieces.
Ah, but I have already seared this one into my mind! Have you any others?
Hmm ... yes, there's another fresco in the dome, but it was suspended midway by the sponsor, the Arte della Lana.
More than a dozen artisans and artists, including Mr. Uccello, the chief painter, participated in this project, but none of them received a single florin for their work. God bless them ...
This was nearly 20 years ago ... I suppose it was simply too expensive. The dome itself is rarely visited.
It is only natural that our money go to the central nave, where all the faithful might see it.
I should leave you to your work, sir. God bless you all.
Alberto crosses his heart and leaves.
Phew ... They're finally gone. Alright, time to start Operation Florence Typhon!
Wait, where's Vertin?
Right behind you.
Oh! Where did you go? We're about to get started.
I wanted to make sure that there was no one else in the cathedral before we began. I believe we are alone now.
We shouldn't be disturbed for some time.
It's always good to be cautious, miss!
I should signal Ezio and Mr. APPLe now. They've waited long enough.
Is there something wrong, Vertin? You don't look well.
I'm fine. I'm not used to the smells here ...
The smells? *sniff* It's frankincense ... *sniff* and myrrh!
Those are the most prominent ones I can detect; I believe there may be some other local florals ...
I wonder if all the incense is meant to make you dizzy on purpose! What better way is there to see clouds and angels ...
That's a clever theory.
But heavy incense can certainly be unpleasant for some people ... Oh, but Miss Sotheby has the perfect thing to help.
She flings open her bag and retrieves a potion.
Apply two drops just inside your nose, and you should be right as rain!
Thank you.
The weather is truly lovely today, isn't it?
The golden apple basks cozily beneath the Tuscan sun.
Any sign of the signal yet?
... Not yet.
A short time later, the assassin makes his way to the apple's side.
There's a window near the ribs; we should be able to sneak in through there.
Marvelous! All that's left to do is to wait for their signal.
Mmm, the sun is so warm and gentle right now, like sipping a cup of fresh-made Cornish tea. Ouch!
*chirp*
Let me see.
...
It's mirrored font, one of Leonardo's codes. You reverse it to get the true message: avanti ...
"Action."
Oh! I see, nothing too complex. But what about this bird?
Another of his bizarre inventions. It has to hit something to stop.
You should be thankful; he's improved it from his last design. It used to fly so fast that it would knock you off your feet.
Remarkable! It is an amazing invention. If I were you, I would suggest that he take good care of all his blueprints so they might be passed down in the future.
Ezio smiles.
It wouldn't do any good. His genius may well be forgotten since he guards his ideas so jealously—he writes everything in ciphers like this.
He would rather see his work burn than have someone else complete it for him.
He won't worry about the future until it comes. That's just his way.
And what about you, Ezio?
The Assassin looks down at his own shadow.
I am an Assassin. We work in the dark to serve the light. I don't want to be remembered.
That sounds lonely ... Do you mind if I ask something? You've avoided speaking about your family, it sounds like something terrible happened.
Are they why you became an Assassin?
...
It is a long story ... my father and brothers were killed by the Templars.
The Assassin covers his face beneath his hood and replies in a soft voice.
I was only 17 ... So much has changed since then. I've changed.
I'm terribly sorry, Ezio. Forgive me, I should never have brought it up ...
APPLe falls silent, for a moment it almost seems as if his golden skin loses its shine.
It's not your fault.
His eyes trace the flight of an eagle in the distance. Then he turns and his face seems as gloomy as midnight.
It was three in the morning.
I placed their bodies on a boat, performed their last rites and then lit their pyre. I watched as it drifted away down the Arno.
The pride of the Auditores, yet I couldn't even bury them properly.
All I could do was keep my enemies' names in mind ... Vieri de' Pazzi, Francesco de' Pazzi, Uberto Alberti ...
I took their lives, every last one of them.
The wind blows away a painful sigh.
I don't think I've told anyone that for a long time.
I can't imagine the pain ... not to mention how hard it must have been to overcome it.
He shakes his head with a bitter smile.
I didn't. You don't overcome that sort of pain ... No, I took it in and made it part of myself.
I feel it again, raw and new, every time I draw my blade. It's always there, guiding me from each target to the next.
But you said that "Assassins only kill for a just cause." Isn't that just killing for revenge?
Ezio looks out from his hood with a cold stare.
Revenge can be a just cause if it rights injustice—I have to believe that.
Footsteps disturb a nearby tile.
Someone's here.
Ezio grabs APPLe and moves like a shadow behind a nearby chimney.
Not long after two Templars round the edge of the roof.
Damn! The whole Duomo has been blocked for some "honored guest."
Even Mr. Rodrigo can't get us in. I didn't know we'd sunk this low.
What are we even on the lookout for? Some kind of apple? Is it related to the relics?
Ugh ...
What now?
The other Templar reaches for his neck.
A poisoned arro- ...
He falls to the ground before finishing the words.
What?!
Assassin ... Assassin over here!!
That should be the last one.
But the Templars will be on high alert. We need to hurry.
It's the only one that isn't crawling with Templars, so it has to be. *cough*
I guess that's a good point.
Look ... There's light ahead.
They find a narrow stairway after moving around the corner. A beam of light illuminates the space through the vent.
Oh, who would have guessed? A secret tunnel!
Let's go, friend.
It's clear no one has been here for a long time, yet a sense of danger chokes the air.
The brick patterning ... It's like nothing I've ever seen before.
The dome's bricks are arranged diagonally, layered all the way into the shadow at the top.
We call it the spina di pesce, herringbone. Another of Brunelleschi's innovations.
I know next to nothing about architecture, but Leonardo would say it helps to carry the weight of the dome.
That makes perfect sense! The diagonal arrangement must prevent them from shifting under the immense weight. A positively genius design!
And to realize it the bricks must have been layered with incredible precision.
APPLe sighs unconsciously.
That would explain why it took so long to complete.
Sixteen years ... I'm certain it must have been exciting to witness its completion after so much time.
Brunelleschi, Leonardo, Uccello ... Your hometown is full of amazing people, Ezio.
This APPLe wishes he had been born here.
Ezio turns looking over the wall.
There's no city quite like Firenze.
Like a row of steadfast soldiers, the bricks extend upward as the Assassin climbs the stairs.
Like silent observers over the course of history.
...
What's wrong?
There's something on the wall.
Several humanoid symbols have been hidden in a nook.
These appear to be the same symbols from the manuscript.
Then we're on the right path.
Look. Another symbol over there!
One pursuer, two pursuers, three ...
The symbols appear one after another, as if guiding the way.
We must be close. Action ...
He speeds up his pace.
After turning several corners, Ezio spots a beam of light—
The symbols converge on a single destination.
What lies ahead? An answer, or more questions?
Ezio takes a deep breath and walks into the dazzling light.
The blinding light slowly dims, giving way to the gentle warmth of candlelight.
When he opens his eyes again he sees several discolored frescoes.
In the middle of these silent figures, flowers, and birds; a blank space.
So, this is ... the secret chamber?
7. Agnus Dei
36 linesThey said, "Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens."
These murals have nearly faded away.
Nonetheless, it appears we can rule out a biblical scene, nor does it appear to connect with any significant Greco-Roman mythology.
Perhaps there's some metaphor hidden in the narrative of these paintings? And if we can figure it out, we will find our way to the secret chamber.
The problem is ... there are so many murals; where do we begin?
In most cases, you view a fresco straight ahead and from top to bottom.
Hmm ... in this order, they seem to be telling a simple story about a group of people ... and a peculiar bird.
Simple and straightforward, except for this part.
Ezio gazes at the blank area at the center of the fresco.
As if by silent agreement, the faded pigments around it all keep their distance.
All the questions seem to center there.
What is the meaning of this ...?
Please don't worry, miss; this is only the first stage of my draft.
I must draw out the details in rough so that you won't end up looking like an empty shell.
They will help to express how you stand, move around, and exhibit feelings.
R-Really? Then Miss Sotheby will still look pretty, right? Once you've finished with all the glamorous colors and those adorable little angels ...
In a sort of way, yes. Except, of course, that it won't be you; it will be the Virgin Mary.
But other than that, you'll have everything you hope for, including all the colors and the little angels!
Hooray!
...
I hadn't actually thought you'd use the time to paint.
Of course! And we must take our work seriously at that—Father Alberto may show up for an inspection at any time.
I see.
Hmm, I noticed you've used some guidelines in the background. Are you using linear perspective theory?
The painter's eyes light up with surprise and delight.
Gosh! I hadn't expected you to know about that!
Where we come from, mastering this fundamental concept is essential for every artist.
What?!
A fundamental? That would make your homeland some kind of painter's paradise? Don't tell me even your snails can paint!
Oh, that would be such a delight, don't you think?
I've never painted snails, but I've painted eggs! Mr. Karson once told me it was a part of your training method that—
Excuse me ... Sorry to interrupt.
Perhaps, Mr. Leonardo you could tell us more about your use of linear perspective? My understanding of it might differ from yours.
With pleasure!
8. Bestiary
142 lines*snore*
Uccello.
Huh?! Who? Where?
Oh, s-sorry, I hadn't meant to drift to sleep. It's just that so much has happened over the past few days.
The Assassin's attention is fixed intently on the fresco before him.
Perhaps the bird in the fresco represents Uccello himself.
"Uccello" means bird, after all.
Hmm ... so then in these paintings, Uccello is a wondrous bird that has many followers?
A metaphor.
It seems like we're nearly there, but something's still missing. Perhaps I can take a closer look.
APPLe slowly floats upward to the blank area.
As if in perfect synchronization, a beam of light passes through the stained glass, illuminating APPLe and the blank area before him.
Fervent reds, vivid greens ... a panoply of new colors blossom in the light, only to fade like the ebbing tide.
!
You saw that too, right?
Ezio nods.
There were colors—fleeting, yes, but no trace of color is ever fully erased. Let's see ...
Ezio wipes the blank section of the wall, then sniffs his hand.
There's a faint metallic smell.
Metallic smell? But this APPLe doesn't see anything on the wall that could create such a smell.
Trust me, in my line of work, I've become very familiar with the scent.
There is unwavering confidence in his tone.
Erhm ... I do hope you aren't implying that those awful rumors that Mr. Leonardo told me yesterday are true.
"Then they cut their wrists to shed blood; mixed it with hair and soil and painted the mixture on the wall."
No, no-no-no-no-no, I refuse to follow this train of thought. It must be something else, something less gory; give me a minute ...
Metal, oxidation, frescoes, and pigment ...
A series of keywords emerge and intertwine in his mind until the final piece of the puzzle falls into place.
Oh, I've got it!
Many artists in this era use pigments derived from minerals such as ochre, lapis lazuli, and chromium compounds.
When exposed to moisture, they undergo oxidation, which may be the source of this metallic scent.
APPLe stares at the blank space in front of him.
Yes, it all makes sense now. I've cracked the code to this perplexing riddle, and the answer shines brighter than ever before—
A deliberate pause, as if awaiting thunderous applause from his audience.
Please.
The Assassin stifles a laugh and makes a polite bow to suggest he continue.
Ahem ... I can only conclude that the artists used a special pigment that's only visible under specific lighting!
Only visible under specific lighting? How? That sounds like sorcery.
This isn't sorcery, friend. It's science!
Back in this APPLe's timeline—I mean homeland—pigments like this are not particularly rare.
But why does this phenomenon seem to be receptive to ... my body ...? Oh, I see!
APPLe's golden glow grows even brighter, like a small rising sun.
So this APPLe is no different than a kind of optical filter!
An optical filter?
As you might know, sunlight consists of various wavelengths of electromagnetic radiation.
Waves of sunlight? I don't get it.
Erhm ... Never mind that; let's assume this pigment is only visible under specific colors of light, say, red light or orange light.
At dusk, when the sun is near the horizon, its rays travel through the atmosphere at a steeper angle, which diffuses the blue and ultraviolet light, causing the sunlight to appear more orange and red. A sunset, in other words.
Building on this, if we use an optical filter to block out even more blue and ultraviolet wavelengths ...
You may as well get to the point, Mr. APPLe, because you've lost me.
APPLe twirls excitedly in midair.
With the right amount of red and orange light, the pigment on the wall should become visible!
But for how long? The light from before faded in an instant.
Well, that's true ...
Highly limited in duration—and in size, too, nothing like the breathtaking display Leonardo demonstrated in the monastery.
It may require a particular angle to achieve the desired effect. However, figuring that out will take some complex mathematical calculations ...
They both pause to examine the painting.
The white space remains undisturbed, impervious to its observers.
So this is Uccello's final puzzle, huh?
All this has really piqued my curiosity, Ezio. What kind of man was this Paolo Uccello?
...
I'm sorry. I can't even recall his face.
Though I'm not surprised by his use of riddles, if he is anything like the other artists I know. They all like hiding puzzles in their work; it's a means of protecting them from imposters.
I do know he had a passion for drawing birds. That's part of the reason they call him "Uccello."
You can tell from the meticulous detailing he painted them with.
Other than that though he was quite ordinary.
Not as lively as Leonardo, nor as eccentric as Brunelleschi.
Is that so ...? Yet this "ordinary" man had a mind as vast as the universe itself.
Not only was he a legendary painter, but he was also a pioneer in perspective and lighting.
The perplexing puzzles he left in his works have proved an enduring challenge for scholars to decipher. Not to mention he seems to be one of these "Compliners" cultists!
Ezio doesn't seem to give the accusation much weight.
Reaching out his hand, he gently brushes the chipped wall.
He was also a Florentine.
And it's no wonder that a Florentine can work wonders.
The fog in the central nave has cleared.
Urgh ...
She awakens feeling like her body is filled with lead.
Sotheby ... Leonardo ...
*snore*
*sob* Don't eat me, please ...
Vertin notices a half-open censer on the altar table.
That must have been the source of the sleeping gas ...
Thank you, Ms. Sotheby. That potion you gave me seems to have mitigated the effects of the gas.
*sob* I'm not tasty, really ...
The sleeping young lady appears gripped in a terrible nightmare.
It seems they aren't going to be waking up any time soon.
Urgh ...
*pant* There you go.
The dozing duo are dragged behind the altar, hidden beneath the holy protection of its shadow.
You should be safe here, for the time being.
Angel's trumpets are poisonous ... Keep clear from them ...
... *sigh*
I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can.
Well, our reinforcements are in position.
I understand that the Padre already took care of the rats in the central nave. You, go fetch them and lock them up!
Yes, Commander!
The rest of you will follow me to eliminate our troublesome assassin, seize the Golden Apple and claim those relics!
Now pull yourselves together! We can't let this assassin get the drop on us. So if I catch any of you slacking off, you're going to wish I'd kicked you off the ledge here.
Understand?!
Yes, Commander!
May the Father of Understanding guide—hmm?
The Templar commander notices a slender shadow behind a brick chimney.
Who's there? Show yourself!
... Good afternoon, sir.
You! Aren't you that visitor from last night?
...
A breeze sweeps through, carrying up the tension in the air.
Hmph, don't tell me; you snuck your way up here for some sightseeing, miss.
Get her!
Hurry! Flank her from the other side!
She must be with the Assassins! Don't let her get away!
Urgh!
Obviously, these tiles weren't made for running.
Her foundation training didn't include any programs on rooftop evasion.
I need to find Ezio and Mr. APPLe, but ...
The enormous dome looms ahead, the dark ventilation grates resembling the dim, watchful eyes of giant beasts.
Far from a welcoming sight.
How should I get inside?
It appears you're lost, miss.
Thieves, courtesans, and foreigners ... I've always wondered why the Assassins only attract the likes of you as allies.
It's not hard to side with the Assassins when the only other option is you.
Hah, you're just a band of faithless lowlifes, nothing more.
...!
She inches backward but finds there's no more roof left to meet her step.
Do you cherish your life, miss? Or will you leap down like one of those suicidal assassins?
Hahahaha!
Laughter erupts from the advancing thugs.
...
Her heart beats faster and faster, as if it might burst up from her throat at any moment.
Ughh!!
A throwing knife pierces through the commander's eye.
Arghhh! M-My eye!!
Dead on.
Flashes of flying blades flicker in the chaos.
Arrrgh!!
The Templars fall from the rooftop one by one.
Just around the corner, a grayish figure stands silently, like a phantom in the sunlight.
Ezio!
Follow the wall on the right until you see a mechanical bird. I placed it there to mark a hidden window. Your friend's waiting for you there.
What about you?
The Assassin takes a step forward, directing his gaze toward another wave of Templars.
Their armor glints coldly in the waning sunlight, forming a restless, silver sea on the rooftop.
I have other work to do.
9. A Deadly Dusk
72 linesPhew, I'm so relieved to see you safe and sound, Vertin!
We heard the sounds of fighting from below, and Ezio decided to check if any of you were in trouble.
Sorry for worrying you. But Ezio ...
The sound of fighting has ceased for a while.
The dead silence feels ominous.
I'm certain Mr. Ezio can handle it. He knows what he's doing.
The Templars came prepared today. I'll go handle them. You stay here.
Are you certain? What if it's a trap? I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe we should go toge—
You don't need to worry. I've dealt with the Templars for many years.
The Assassin flicks his wrists, the cold sheen of the hidden blades flashing in the shadows.
He's always ready.
This is just yet another battle the Templars will lose.
Besides, you are my friends. I won't let them put you in danger.
The Assassin descends the stone steps in bounding leaps.
As he moves, he looks up and gives APPLe a final reassuring smile.
I promise you ...
We'll meet again, friend!
...
He's a selfless man.
And exceptionally perceptive. These Templars are indeed well-prepared today.
I came out of the central nave because Sotheby and Leonardo were knocked unconscious by some kind of sleeping gas.
What?!
The priest named Alberto was likely behind it.
I've hidden the two of them behind the altar, but there's no telling how long they'll be safe there.
This is bad. We still haven't figured out the trick to opening the secret chamber; let's hurry, and we can exchange information on the way.
Step by step, the two climb up the long and narrow stone stairs.
Optical filters ... Uccello ... Bird ...
Yes, that's all we've managed to uncover so far. What about your side? Any new clues?
...
She instinctively glances over the dim stairway below them.
... Nothing substantial.
But combining what you mentioned about the fresco and what the father said ...
Hmm ... yes, there's another fresco in the dome, but it was suspended midway by the sponsor, the Arte della Lana.
More than a dozen artisans and artists, including Mr. Uccello, the chief painter, participated in this project, but none of them received a single florin for their work. God bless them ...
If I might speculate, I think that the fresco isn't a puzzle or the key to any mystery, but rather a reflection of the experience of the artists themselves as they were painting the cathedral.
The artists' real experience? But how would you explain this surreal-looking stone?
What if it's not a stone in the first place? Perhaps it's that optical filter you proposed?
You mean that Uccello had an optical filter, too? Oh, that's smart!
Even in this era, an optical filter wouldn't be impossible to make—all you need is something that reflects the light properly, for example, a small piece of stained glass.
Anyway, we just need to get to the secret chamber to confirm it for ourselves—we're almost there.
Huh ...? When did he ...?
A priest stands in the supposedly empty room, hands behind his back, he looks as if he had been there the whole time.
You seem surprised to see me here, Mr. Golden Apple and Miss "Apprentice"?
...
So you were working with them, just as I suspected.
You hid your discovery about linear perspective from your friend to avoid being spied on, didn't you? That was wise.
Heavy footsteps come from behind the two outsiders.
A group of Templars emerges from the shadows; pouring out like cobwebs in the dim light.
But it seems we weren't clever enough to see through your lies about emptying the cathedral.
I never lied. What a baffling accusation. All I have done is call in my dear friends who had been exposed to the scorching sun while you were sleeping on the job.
I don't understand ... You seem like a respectable man of the cloth; why would you betray your faith to serve the Templars?
The priest's face darkens.
Betray? I've been a Templar all along. There was no one to betray.
But isn't Leonardo your friend?
Even the closest of friends may keep a secret or two from one another, don't they?
It's not so different from his secret connections with the assassins.
This truly is an era of distrust.
Ah, and speaking of our friend Leonardo and that ... model girl, I admit you hid them quite well—it took our men some time to find them.
*gasp*
Ignoring the anxious look from the young woman, the priest casually paces in front of the fresco, admiring it as if it were any other painting.
So beautiful. I've always liked the way the lime layers peel away. Like buried sins, exposed to the light.
Layer after layer stripped away; it's a kind of purification.
He turns around and reverently makes the sign of the cross over his chest.
Now, open the chamber if you still care about the safety of your friends.
L-Let me warn you: Ezio Auditore is on his way here.
He will stop at nothing to destroy you Templars!
The declaration seems to have no effect on the priest.
Ezio, you say? Ah, I'm afraid I must be the one to tell you—he's not coming back.
What? What do you mean by that ...?
Alberto steps to the window, looking down at the red-tiled rooftops below.
You will find we're also quite experienced—in dealing with assassins.
He will find his eternal rest here in Firenze this day.
10. The Creed
81 linesBlood.
Some say Florence is a land baptized in glory and blood.
So much blood has been spilled here. By the Romans and the Saints. The Guelphs and Ghibellines. The Medici and the Pazzi.
And those who fought for freedom.
*pant*
Give it up, Assassin! The whole city is looking for you! You won't get away this time!
Our orders are clear! Secure the relics and the golden apple, and one equally important command from the Pope himself—
Kill the Assassin Ezio Auditore.
We will help you open the secret chamber.
Vertin, we can't just—wait, when did you figure out how to open the secret chamber?
Alberto offers a satisfied clap.
Well, well. It's time you shared your little secret.
Vertin ...
Everything will be alright. Now, let's pay attention to the fresco.
Her calm tone is a mask worn over a swirling pool of anxiety.
Can you recall the riddle?
Leonardo proposed that these "waning sanctuaries" must refer to vanishing points. And by "unite," he means the place these vanishing points connect.
Hmm ...
So we need to find where they are connected? What does the other half of the sentence mean then? "Under the waning glow" ...
Could it be that the optical filter—I suppose that's me—must be placed at their intersection at dusk?
I believe so.
Well done, my obedient lambs. You've cracked the puzzle quite nicely.
Now what follows is just some tedious work from my side.
Released from the priest's censer, wisps of fog stretch and encroach, inch by inch, within the small enclosed space.
This APPLe feels light and dizzy ... Are we in heaven now?
It's that sleeping gas again! Hold your breath!
H-Hold my ...?
Time seems to have stopped moving.
The air is filled with heavy doses of scopolamine and atropine. They alter colors, twist lines, and disregard all physical laws effortlessly.
*yawn* ... As above, so below ... as below, so above ...
Fool, do you think I'd give you the chance to buy time for your friends?
The priest's figure tilts and bends in their vision, only his lips seem to remain in place.
We will bring order to this chaotic world. By straying from order, you invite your own doom—you are bound to fail.
*pant*
Hmm?
The sharp, clear cry of an eagle snaps the Timekeeper back to awareness.
The priest paces over to the stained glass window; at first he looks anxious, but then he appears to relax.
My memory is as poor as ever. It's nearly dusk, and our assassin is most assuredly dead—
Ugh!
Dust-covered stained glass and blood spray intertwine into a breathtaking arc of light.
The priest kneels in the sunset light, staring up at his own death reflected in his killer's eyes.
Ezio ...? How ...?
A faint metallic scent lingers in the air, blood and dust staining the Assassin's grayish robe.
He arrives just in time.
You claim to bring order, but all you do is seek control.
Fortunately, neither the world nor its people will bow so easily.
The few defeat the many in this battle.
The priest lies on the ground, his pale, aging face distorted by a rippling pool of blood.
*cough* Ezio ... You pestering bastard dog ...
An assassin never loses track of his target.
How did you ... survive ...?
...
You're outnumbered, Assassin. There's no way you can survive this.
It's better that you kneel and accept your fate. No one can withstand the Order.
The doors and windows on the street have all been tightly shut.
The bustle on the street has disappeared. Even the wind falls silent, anticipating the worst.
Heh. Outnumbered? Where did you get that idea?
Shadows emerge from behind him flanking him on either side.
*gasp*
Where did they ...?!
Leaping down from rooftops, sneaking in from the alleys, the phantoms swiftly gather behind Ezio.
The wordless determination in their eyes speaks for them.
We work in the dark, to serve the light.
We are Assassins.
All those "lowlifes" you so readily dismissed—when I needed them, they came to our aid.
I-Impossible ...
One knee on the ground, the Assassin stares at the priest's trembling eyes, writhing in pain.
Buy every soldier and summon every knight and every Templar in this city—it will never be enough.
The Assassin's hidden blade is driven through the priest's heart.
No ... *cough* It can't ... end like this ... *cough*
But as it seems like the priest should breathe his last, he begins to laugh.
Heh heh ... assassins, you're merely puppets on a string; driven by delusion.
Each life you take ... brings you one step closer to the darkness ...
Let it be so.
Entering the darkness is not a curse for us; it is our most solemn duty.
An assassin does not fear the darkness any more than an eagle would fear the sky.
Faith should bring comfort, not pain.
He closes the fallen priest's eyes with undue reverence.
Rest in peace.
11. Primavera
57 linesOh, thank heavens. No more befuddling riddles and clouds of sleeping gas. I've never loved this world as much as I do now!
You were quite clever to cooperate with Alberto to stall for time. But how did you know that Ezio was coming to save us?
...
I didn't know. But I knew that irritating Alberto would risk the safety of Sotheby and Leonardo.
Moreover, I think I may have actually figured out what the "relics" truly are ...
A small, brownish shadow flashes past the window.
Hmm? That sound is familiar, isn't it?
I'll take a look.
Another clumsy little bird carrying its creator's encrypted message.
"Sicuro." He means he's safe.
Looks like my friends from the Thieves' Guild have already rescued Leonardo and Miss Sotheby.
You seem to have a lot of friends.
I always thought that assassins worked alone.
Smiling, the Assassin shakes his head.
Quite the opposite.
True assassins, are more than just killers. We are the manifestation of a belief. A belief in freedom and the ability to fight for it.
We do not hold to any authority but our own. We are free to follow our own path.
And many share that belief. That's why we are never alone.
... Just like the artists that painted these.
I imagine they must see each other as fellow believers in art.
For a moment, everyone takes a moment to appreciate the mottled frescoes surrounding them.
So ... the outline of their story should be clear now.
One by one, the pages that had been scattered to an unknown corner of history fall neatly together.
They should have been carried away by the winds of time, like fallen leaves.
But if these pages were ever meant to be rediscovered someday, then yes—
Now is that moment.
About 20 years ago, a group of painters led by Uccello started working on the fresco here.
Even today, you can still sense the enthusiasm in their work.
The essence of linear perspective lies not only in reproducing reality, but in the narrative quality of space itself!
You've only scratched the surface. If you truly want to grasp the essence of the concept, I suggest you review Plato's theory of forms.
Rather than simply copying nature, as artists, we should strive to reveal their true ideals through our work.
I'm so jealous of them.
They are so talented and knowledgeable ... unlike me. I feel dizzy just seeing those guidelines.
Bah, let me show you some tricks better than mere linear perspective!
Here, Uccello lifted a stained glass to showcase his wondrous optical phenomenon.
Not again, Uccello! You can't keep altering our work with that strange pigment of yours!
What a mess. And it goes against our patron's instructions. What if they find out about it?
Hmph, look closely.
The modified colors and lines do give the work a little more life. Fine, I admit it, you know what you're doing!
He's right. I say we keep it—it's not like our patrons are ever smart enough to figure these things out anyway ...
It never occurred to me painting could be so ... liberating. Thank you for enlightening me.
Huh? Of course, to paint is to find freedom. That is what it always has been!
It was a time of joy and of meaningful creation.
But it didn't last long.
I'm sorry we must suspend funding for now; there is simply no money to pay you.
All at once, the painters and artisans were kicked out of the cathedral.
Stripped of their right to finish their final painting, leaving no room for negotiation.
No payments, and no written records were left behind.
But life had to go on. These painters and artisans scattered each one doing what they could to earn their bread.
But always returning to the unfinished fresco that tugged at their heartstrings.
That night, I returned to the dome. But I never expected to find Uccello there as well.
Then others came ... one by one.
Turns out, I wasn't the only one reluctant to leave our work behind.
Again, Uccello lifted the stained glass and—
...
Their story has come to a pause here. Now, let's finish it ...
He lifts APPLe gently into the light, it reflects off his golden radiance as the Assassin walks toward the unfinished fresco.
12. A Moment of Peace
153 linesWhat happened after that?
The treasure hunters must have opened the secret chamber and found the Compliners' relics, right?
Well, there was no treasure inside. Just a few letters and a painter's address.
That's it? Wh-What about all those symbols? Don't tell me you made it all up!
Easy, easy, allow me to continue ... Long after the poor painters and artisans scattered to the wind.
Each of them received a special pigment from Uccello. They used it on other projects they worked on, leaving their "signatures"—these symbols behind to mark their work.
And so concludes our Firenze fresco mystery! To celebrate this touching story, I've hired a team of talented artists to reproduce their paintings in a new book, and I gave it a wonderful title:
"La Primavera di Firenze!" (The Spring in Florence!)
The crowd lets out a chorus of dissatisfaction.
What a disappointment ...
And a lousy title.
Oh, umm, I-I've got something even better here! A map straight from the Spanish court with a direct route to India! Think of the opportunities that await you!
Hidden relics, missing artists ... No matter the season, you'll hear all kinds of legends in Florence just minutes after you arrive.
Perhaps everyone who has ever lived here is destined to become a legend themselves.
In the midst of the bustle, the Tuscan sun has quietly begun to sink below the horizon.
Achoo!
I have a serious question: what is there in India that is worth all this fuss? If Marco Polo is to be believed, not even there can one escape the troublesome rumors of merchants and courtiers.
Unfortunately, humanity's thirst for gossip knows neither geographical nor temporal boundaries.
But this APPLe still finds it so strange that all the rumors about these Compliners turned out to be false, from top to bottom. Seems like, no matter the era, lies always travel faster than the truth ...
Well, I wouldn't say that. In fact, the rumors didn't really hold much weight until you arrived.
Huh?
The Assassin gazes out at the distant crimson clouds.
The Compliner's relics weren't the most important thing we were searching for; in fact we were looking for an apple, one very much like you.
So when you turned up, looking like the very apple we had lost, it was only natural for us—and the Templars—to keep an eye on you.
Of course, it turns out you weren't the apple we were looking for.
And you're only telling me this NOW? I thought we were friends.
It's only because I consider you friends that I had to keep this from you.
That apple brings bloodshed and war wherever it appears.
Hmm. Well, then it does sound like quite the troublesome thing.
The Assassin smiles.
You've caused quite a stir in Firenze yourself—no need to be modest.
Correct! You are an amazing apple in your own right! My only regret is that I never got the chance to dissect you and study your inner workings.
I hope you don't mind, but I think you may have to keep that regret forever—ahh!
Ms. Sotheby, why did you sneak up on me like that?!
I did not! I just wanted to tell you that Vertin and I met an old gentleman down there who was kind enough to give us directions! Well, he said if we keep heading northwest along the Arno River, and then ... umm ...
Anyway, we'd end up in Pratovecchio eventually!
I do believe you may have skipped some—if not all—of the necessary information.
Ezio knows the way. All we need to do now is deliver the letter to Mr. Uccello.
I suppose we must say goodbye to our dear Firenze for now.
That red is so vibrant! Like an endless field of poppies!
It carries the brilliance and hope of the renaissance.
The red flows across the sky in a rosy stream, passing through the window flower boxes hanging over Florentine streets until it pours into the winding Arno River.
What did I say? This place has the best view!
It is positively gorgeous. I see why you insisted we all come up here together.
A place of beauty like this is a fitting place for farewells ...
Before saying goodbye, the soft whispers between friends fade into the coming night's breeze, melting with the golden glow of the setting sun.
By the way, I had a discussion with some of my fellow painters. We discovered that Pratovecchio is rich in a special mineral—
One need only grind and heat it properly ... then presto!
You have yourself some invisible pigment!
So that's the source of the pigment used in the fresco?
Uccello was born in Pratovecchio. It's safe to assume he brought some from his hometown to Florence.
Just a hint of this powder and you are able to create a vast array of remarkable colors.
Among them, the most famous is a color some call "Firenze Red."
"Firenze Red" ...
A red that isn't too glaring or gaudy.
You see it on the rooftops of the houses, the reflections on the rivers at dusk, and even on the signs of street-side shops ...
It's no wonder many praise Florence and its magnificent red.
It's a good name.
One week later
The bumpy journey has finally come to an end.
Phew, finally. That darling little house up ahead must be Mr. Uccello's home!
A small farmhouse stands beneath the thick shade of olive trees ahead, the stone walls glowing white in the afternoon sun.
The young lady takes a few excited strides ahead, then pauses.
*weep*
I just realized something. When he learns from us that his friend Bianca has been dead for years, he might be very sad!
Mr. Uccello, if he's even still alive, will be an old man by now.
A man of his age grows familiar with death and farewells.
The Assassin gently pats Sotheby.
Let's go.
He steps forward, pushing open the vine-covered gate.
Oh! Who are you? Where did you pop up from?!
The small courtyard is vibrant with life, and a woman with paint stains covering her dress stands alone in the sunlight.
Apologies for the intrusion, miss. My name is Ezio Auditore from Firenze.
We're here looking for Paolo Uccello. We have a letter here addressed to him from one of his friends.
Friends ...? I'm not sure my father would agree he had any friends.
Is that so? Well, the letter is signed "Bianca."
Bianca! You should have said so earlier! Please, put the letter down; it's meant for me.
Hmm? The letter mentions a particular piece of stained glass and details of the fresco in the Florence Cathedral; we assumed it must have been meant for Mr. Uccello.
The woman looks wistfully in the direction they came, then laughs as if recalling a joyful memory.
Pfff. It appears I've deceived you as well.
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Antonia Uccello.
And perhaps the "Uccello" you friendly strangers are looking for.
I see ... So Bianca has passed away, too.
Her paint-covered hands grip the yellowed papers tightly.
That fresco was the last work we did together.
Father passed away soon after, leaving behind my sick mother and a pile of debts.
I used to follow Father wherever he went, whatever job he took—sculpture, masonry, painting frescoes ... everything. I learned all I could from him and, after he died, hoped to accept commissions independently. But as a woman, it was almost impossible.
But once I left Firenze and began using Father's name to make a living some of his old patrons were kind enough to keep sending work my way, provided I concealed my true identity.
Oh, so you're the imposter!
Antonia gives the impertinent artist a glare.
I admit, I tried to imitate Father's style in my earlier works, but I'm much more than just an imposter now.
No, no, no ... a painter's mind should be a mirror—capturing and reflecting the truth and beauty of nature.
To simply copy the works of another? No, miss, it seems you still have much to learn.
Hah!
Is that what you think? Well, I've heard it all before!
"Minds as a mirror"? Ridiculous. Let me tell you: a painter's mind should be like a sheet of transparent glass.
It refracts and transforms the external world, then reconstructs its image inside the painter's brain, rather than simply copying the natural world around us.
Oh, hmm, that is an intriguing theory ... odd perhaps but not without merit ...
You just wait here. I'll show you with one of my recent works.
She springs up and begins rummaging through a nearby stack of sheets.
She seems so full of life.
She reminds me of my sister. Women like her have seen much pain, but they never let it defeat them.
*sigh* If only her understanding of painting were a bit more profound. I believe we might become good friends.
Sun rays pour through the patterned window, and the light spots dance merrily on the old wooden floor.
The pot on the stove gurgles as the fresh scent of herbs fills the room.
War, plague, poverty; the loss of loved ones—painful memories of the older generation now linger in the cracks of the walls and beneath the leaves of the trees.
Antonia has lived in this quiet refuge for a long time.
Pardon me, may I ask ... what was your name again?
Antonia has returned, holding a yellowed sketch in her hands.
She looks closely at Ezio, studying his face.
You said you are an Auditore, right?
Yes. You know about my family?
I thought so; you look so familiar ...
I'm sure you know your mother, Maria Auditore, funded my father for a time?
Father conducted a lot of his research on perspective and lighting. He passed that knowledge on to me.
I see ... And you applied that knowledge to your frescoes, huh?
The artist winks playfully.
What goes around comes around, right?
Architects, sponsors, painters, artisans, assassins, outsiders ... Our identities may differ, but our actions are all deeply interconnected!
Ah, this APPLe has never felt so moved by the warmth and power of community.
I heard a lot about your family from Father. He was always very grateful to you.
I'm sorry, if Mother hadn't cut your funding, perhaps you wouldn't have had to ...
Antonia shakes her head calmly.
Your family helped us more than we could have ever asked for.
Your mother once commissioned my father to paint a family portrait. Do you remember?
Family portrait ...? No, I had no idea.
It was many years ago, and the painting was never finished ... because of what happened to your family.
She moves slowly then purposefully toward Ezio and hands him the sketch.
This is the only draft left. But I believe it should be returned to you.
?
Consider it a token of thanks for delivering this letter all the way from Firenze!
Thank you.
Ezio takes the sketch, gently unfolding it in his hands.
This is ...
On the yellowed sketch paper, a roughly drawn portrait captures all the members of the Auditore family.
Father, Mother, Federico, Claudia, Petruccio ...
This draft captures the younger version of you perfectly—I can vouch for that!
The young Ezio in the painting stands off to the side with a casual stance.
Without a care in the world, the 17-year-old boy with an errant heart eager to explore and venture without restraints.
The rest of the family didn't seem to mind him. They stood against the clear Tuscan sky, their faces glowing with dignified poise.
Ah, what a lovely family portrait; even the weather looks lovely. The painter did a great job capturing a wonderful moment.
Almost imperceptibly, Ezio's hands tremble, overwhelmed by a flood of long-held back emotions.
One of the sweetest of my life.
From somewhere or perhaps nowhere, he hears familiar laughter in the distance.
As light as the breeze, sweeping across the red rooftops, traveling over the river of time, and finally slipping out from the yellowed sketch.
It is a good life we lead, brother.
The best. May it never change.
...
And may it never change us.
The brothers talked about something else afterward. Was it about grappa or the bank? Or was it about the beautiful Cristina?
The gentle and warm memory scatters with the wind, eventually melting in the afternoon sunlight.
The young Auditore still remembers how they used to laugh and cry like innocent children; the entire world was waiting for them to explore.
A Moment of Peace for the Auditore.