July 10, 1501

Roma, Italy

Catherine inhaled deeply as she adjusted her gauntlet, a small piece of her Assassin attire, but it made everything come together. Then again, she wasn't an Assassin anymore, so she probably didn't need her Hidden Blade equipment, but it felt wrong not to wear it. It was the gear she'd worn for decades now, and she felt strange in anything else. Besides, she'd need it for today—it was time to properly initiate their former recruits and she had to dress the part. After that was more training, too, and assigning first mission, so it was appropriate. Still, her doubts lingered, and when she glanced to the wolf head on her vanity, the stab grew sharper. Looking away helped, but she swore she could still hear them—the whispers.

The redhead shook her head as she stood and adjusted her things once more. A knock came at the door, and when she looked up Ezio had opened it to pop his head in. Seeing her decent, he pressed in and came to stand before her. He took her chin gently in his hand, lifting her head up while he tilted his slightly to the side and hummed thoughtfully.

"You don't need to speak if you don't want to," he spoke softly, ever able to read her—just as she could tell there was more that he meant to the question than he let on.

"No, I do. I know what you said, but... I owe them an apology for my actions—and they need recognition of their work from their Mentor. You remember how proud you were every time Mario commended your work," she chuckled, raising a slightly challenging brow.

"...Fair point," Ezio chuckle back and kissed her forehead. "Well, they should all be down there, and I put the kids to bed, so everything is ready to go."

"You got them to go to sleep?"

He scoffed, "I am quite capable, thank-you."

"So I see," she smiled and reached up to squeeze his hand gently. "Alright. Let's go. I've kept them waiting long enough."

Ezio stepped aside, and Catherine walked by. Her feet took her through their door and down the stairs to the lower floors. Diana and Mario were asleep, and so their room remain closed as they went by. The main floor was empty of anyone and the torches had been dimmed for the night, giving a somber shadow to the grand abode. There was an almost eerie silence that made her feet heavy with her guilt, but the presence of her lover behind her—the clack of his boots' heel against the stone—gave her resolve. He wouldn't let her turn back, and so she would not. She instead turned into the hallway leading to a second stairway that led lower. It was a bit off to the side to conceal itself some, but she knew it well. The stairs only went one way to a lower chamber—the very one used for training, although today it served another purpose.

Torches lined the room and were lit with a tall, bright frame that illuminated the stone walls in a mixture of red and gold and orange. Red banners spanned the length, the Assassin sigil etched in gold on the front. It was a callback to their own family emblem, but now served a greater purpose. Along the floor ran a rug, also painted red and flecked with gold patterns in its make. It stretched all the way to the upper section of the back, nestled between four pillars. All along the side, their recruits stood, arms clasped behind their back and chins held high. Their once meager attire was replaced with better gear—provided by both Niccolò and Leonardo. They looked like proper Assassins, and tonight, they would be.

Catherine looked to the nobleman who had helped him, the older man standing reverently in the center of the pillars where the rug ended. Before him was a small pyre, lit with a small flame. Its embers twinkled brightly, and a pleasant fragrance came from the smoke. It was said to be have been part of the ancient right since forever, although the Italian Order now used it to make a mark as opposed to simply a ritualistic smell. That, and a burn made a good replacement for the loss of a finger, although she'd heard some of their brother sects elsewhere in the world still did so.

But that was a notion to ponder another time. Tonight, she had another goal to make good on as she and Ezio approached Niccolò, nodding respectfully, and then turned to face the crowd. The recruits moved their position, aligning themselves parallel to their Mentors. Catherine regarded them all closely, the silence deafening and making her heart race. Piero. Giotto. Belloza. Carlo. Jacopo. Allessandra. Six Assassins. With her and Ezio, it made eight. Just years ago, they had been the only two working in all of Italia, and even then her husband had often worked on her own while she cared for their child and watched over their home. But now? Now they had quadrupled, and it seemed like a dream. All of it—even the fall of their city. Their former home. Yet, she knew this was real; so very, very real. A mixture of sorrow, pride, and a small glimmer of hope came over her, and it did well to bite back the guilt she felt when she met her former students' eyes.

"You have been summoned here today for a... momentous occasion. Today you will truly join us. You will no longer be recruits but Assassins of the Order. Brothers. Sisters. You will be those who work in the dark to serve the light. From this day forth you will act on your own for the Order. You will take down your targets on your own tenants. Your actions will be your own. Your choices will be your own. Your consequences will be your own. No rules will bind you, save the three tenants of our Order. You will do what no one else can, and with this power you will create the change that frees not only Roma and her people, but all of Italia and those around us. Our Order does not pertain to one place. Just as the tyranny of the Borgia can be found elsewhere, be it another name, another cause, we will be there to fight it. For we are Assassins, and this is the gift of power we have been given.

She paused to take in a shaky breath, "But... with this power comes consequence. Responsibility. As I told you, your consequences are your own, and you, above all others, know what power may do to a man. We are but human, and we can be weak. And when a weak man—or an even weaker woman—gains power... it corrupts. Corrodes. It makes you sick and makes you lose your sense of self. What you once used for justice is now used for tyranny. Laws are bent, broken. A blade stayed from the innocent no longer knows the difference. A call for the death of a tyrant cannot tell who is the oppressed. Your eyes become clouded with hate and greed and madness."

Catherine's gaze faltered, the silence thickening, but she licked her lips and went on, "I tell you this because I succumbed to that madness, and I was one of the lucky few who managed to find myself again—to pull away from the dark lull, and it is a terrible, addicting thing. I let the power change me—change what I stood for, and I have done terrible, cruel things... and I stand before you now both as your Sister, your Mentor, and your example. Do not forget the depth of the power you hold. Do not forget what you have been blessed with this power for. It is not for ourselves. It is not for your vengeance, your retribution, your recompense—whatever you want to call it. Our power is for the oppressed—to free them off their chains and ensure that the people are free. And so, in the wake of my warning, I ask for your forgiveness for what I have done and swear that I will do all I can to repay you all. For now, I hope to do so by teaching you all I have to offer and any new Sisters or Brothers who will join you one day... should you allow it."

The silence came back, but there was an awkwardness to it as the former recruits glanced amongst one another. Many brows raised and odd looks were exchanged.

Ezio coughed, "She's asking if you still want her, after having just about broken the tenants of our Order, to be your mentor and teach future recruits."

"Er... sorry for our confusion. It's just... there was nothing to particularly apologize for to begin with," Piero hummed, head tilting. "You'd explained things before to us."

"I mean, we do definitely understand why you did what you did," Alessandra shrugged. "We've all lost someone. And after everything that happened..."

"Not that we don't appreciate it, Mentor, and we're glad you're better, although it's pretty strange to have you not yelling at us as much," Giotto added with a grin and a shrug of his own.

Jacopo scoffed, "You're still a better fighter than us, so probably best you keep teaching us."

"Ha! You finally admit it!" Carlo bellowed, slapping his shoulder.

"Oi! Keep in line man, we've got our chance to answer, but we're still in a ceremony for God's sake! Lord Machiavelli is even here!" Belloza scoffed, sending searing glares that brought the motley crew into line ago. She turned her now neutral gaze to meet Catherine's. "You are our Mentor, Lady Auditore. You always have been, and we will heed your warnings and do all we can to uphold the Creed. We fight for the people, no longer ourselves."

"It seems you have your answer," Niccolò mused from behind, and when the redhead looked back, she could see the smallest flicker of a smile on his stalwart visage. Catherine couldn't keep her own back as a weight was lifted, although some still lingered. It was lighter, though, and she could hold her head high as she regarded her new comrades.

"Then so be it. I will remain as your Mentor, both providing your training and your missions," she spoke—more proudly this time, and then turned to Ezio. "Just as Ezio will be your Mentor in our ways and our Creed, helping you to walk this path and not waver from it, just as he did for me. He will also be the one to properly induct you into our order."

With that, the redhead back up to stand by Niccolò, arms braced behind her back while Ezio came forward, his face beaming with joy and pride. The nobleman shared a look with her, and then returned forward as the Master Assassin began to speak,

"Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine," he began, his voice echoing through the solemn halls, a quiet settling over them. "The wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words. We work in the dark, to serve the light. When you undertake our oath, you will devote yourself to this life, and to following our tenants. They are the three rules that bind us, not only to protect the people, but to ensure the success of our work, the mastery of our emotions, and the safety of our Brotherhood. Listen well and remember: Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent. Hide in plain sight. Never compromise the Brotherhood. Know these. Engrave them in your mind and upon your blade. Never forget them. And never forget that which guides us most: Nothing is true; everything is permitted. Most of all, though, know this: We are Assassins.

He paused as the former recruits repeated their maxim, his chest swelling with joy, "Now, may the first come forward, and earn your mark."

Piero was the first, and he walked up the steps with a bright smile on his face, a young man proud to do this work. He was as much of an asset as any of them, and Catherine knew he would go on to do great things. He took the burn on his ring finger with but a wince and a chuckle and that was it.

He was an Assassin.

And soon enough, they all were, marked by the dark ring on their hand. All that remained was one, final task—the one that proved one's true worth as an Assassin. For it, though, they had to venture all the way back up to the rooftop, ascending stair after stair until they reached the door and opened it to reveal the dark, moonlit sky. At the edge of the tower's top was a platform, and down below, the water of the Tiber River. They had already spoken of the final step before, and so Piero, first to receive the mark, was the first to come to the wooden construct. He didn't hesitate as he spread is arms—like wings—and took flight. His faith in his Brotherhood—in their assurance he would survive—was confirmed with a leap and a resounding splash below.

The others followed in suit, one by one, until only Ezio, Catherine, and Niccolò remained. Like the Lord Auditore and even herself much later, the six individuals had become truly a part of the Order. They were Assassins, and from then onward, they served a much higher purpose.

Catherine, of course, was just relieved to have found only understanding with her former trainees, and no longer felt unsure of her footing. There was still a ways to go, and the guilt would serve as a reminder, but it was clearer now—the path. She had her husband and allies to help her, too, and just looking into Ezio's eyes as he took her hand once it was all said and done gave her strength. It carried her all the way back to the main floor of the hide out, where their Assassins were gathered, dripping with the waters of the Tiber. They looked like a soppy mess, but their grins and chuckles made for a different story.

"You are all free to celebrate as you wish... but remember that your families and loved ones cannot know—for their own safety. There are exceptions, but we ask you come to us first. It is not an easy life to live. I never knew of my father's work as an Assassin until after his death and it was... difficult to understand—at first. But know it is for a greater purpose and for them. You fight for them. Never forget," Ezio spoke, his voice echoing again. He grinned not a moment later, though, "But tonight feel free to forget the pain and enjoy yourselves... and dry off. Just report here first thing tomorrow for your first proper missions."

"Yes, Mentor!" came their unison cry, and that was that.

"I have much work to do, so I must take my leave now, but I first I offer my congratulations. You both did well, and you have found good, strong Assassins. You should both be very proud of what you have accomplished here," Niccolò spoke up once they had reached the stairs, bringing the two Master Assassin's focus to him. "I admit... while I had confidence in your abilities... I was not certain it could be done, and yet here I stand. You will need more Assassins, though—if you wish to truly end the Borgia's reign and that of others."

"I had planned to search for more recruits starting tomorrow, and to have our new Assassins find them, too. With luck, we'll find six more and Catherine can whip them into shape in time," Ezio chuckled, moving his arm from her hand to around her shoulder.

"I have a better idea of how to train them all now, too. Although, I suppose we need to figure out what to do with all of them by then. We really only need the six for here, I would think."

The nobleman hummed, moving past them, "I will leave that decision to you—they are yours to command, after all."

"Of course. I imagine we won't see you quite so much around here then... But do come back to visit Diana—she always enjoys your company

"I will do my best, although I may be even more occupied soon with matters of the fairer sex."

Catherine paused, torn between shock and confusion, "'Matters of the'... Oh! Oh. Niccolò, are you getting engaged?"

"Perhaps. If all goes well. A fine noblewoman. And rather keen. I have been lucky enough to enjoy conversation with her, and I find her quite handsome."

"Oh, boy... If you ever need tips on wooing a woman, let me know, Machiavelli," Ezio chuckled, although his wife rolled his eyes.

"No, come to see me. Ezio will just tell you sleep with other woman and make sure she knows so she gets jealous which is supposedly meant to make her confess."

"I appreciate the offer, but I am quite alright," the nobleman chuckled, shaking his head. He straightened his shoulders and adjusted his tunic. "Now, I must be off. I will send any requests or missions via the pigeons... and will make a point to see Diana more if I am able. Until then, safety and peace be to you both."

"Safety and peace," Catherine hummed back as her husband did, and once their friend was gone, she let out a deep sigh, and fell into Ezio's side. He chuckled, squeezing her shoulder and kissing her brow.

"I know how you feel. That was very brave of you. But I told you that you didn't need to worry," he snickered as he urged her forward. She followed him down the steps.

"I know, I know, but... ah, well, it's done and over with. We have new Assassins, more recruits to come, and plenty of work to do. I just hope we can make waves against the Borgia sooner rather than later."

"Sadly, I imagine it might take a long while—even years. You remember how Venezia went?" Ezio sighed, pausing to let his wife make an unhappy sound. "Regardless, we need to focus on our efforts. The stronger we make the Order, the stronger we'll hit Cesare and his Templars."

"We'll have plenty to do. Leonardo does need us to destroy his War Machines. It could take months at a time to do that," the redhead also sighed, tilting her head slightly. She shrugged a moment later. "Ah, let's save it for tomorrow. I want to sleep, truth be told. That took a lot out of me for not doing much."

Ezio chuckled, kissing her cheek, "Same. Come, then. Let us rest our bones."

"It sounds so morbid when you say it like that. I'm not that old. And neither or you," she snorted, patting his belly, which was still firm even under his belts.

"Ah, but beautiful women are blessed with youth, unlike us men," he hummed as he made for the stairs, walking up with her one step after the other.

"Yeah, save that for when you hit sixty, buster. You're fit as a fiddle still, and I don't want my recruits thinking their Master here is old and feeble. It sets a bad example."

"Oh is that why? Well, I'll do my best to keep in shape then," he laughed, shaking his head.

She laughed with him for a moment before settling into a calm silence, the only sound the echo of their heels on the wooden steps. The squeak of their door soon joined it, along with the thud of armor and equipment being pulled off and set down. Both collapsed down onto their bed once down to but their undershirt and pants and let out deep sighs. Catherine sat up after a moment, a small smile on her face that caused Ezio's brow to raise.

"What is it?" he asked softly, reaching over to brush his thumb across the top of her hand.

She shrugged, "Nothing, I guess. Just... feeling... good. Yeah."

"Good. Get some sleep then. You have to wake the children up this time," he snickered playfully, earning a look and a snort.

"Uh-huh," she snickered as he settled down himself. She knew he was waiting for her fully, but she waited a bit. Her eyes peered into the dark—to the single, gleaming yellow orb. Her body felt cold as fear seized her; the icy anticipation of what was to come, yet there was a small flicker of hope.

For a moment, she thought it was done.

But then—a whisper. Quiet, and weak, but there.

It was still there; still calling her.

It wasn't enough.

She had to do more—but what?

Catherine withheld her sigh as she lay back, squeezing her eyes, and wishing it would stop. She had made it better, but what more was there to be done? How could she be rid of the voices? The call? The reminder of what she had been? She had to get rid of it somehow. She couldn't risk hearing the lull;