"I feel a little guilty leaving the kids—Diana wanted to come sooo badly," Catherine chuckled as she dismounted her steed. Ezio did the same and took her reigns to bring the horses to the stable.

"She did make quite the pout, but I'd rather her not come here until she's older," Ezio grinned wryly. "Don't get me wrong—Volpe is as safe as can be, but the inn isn't exactly a place for a young girl. Or young boys."

"True. I'd rather all three of them not learn about gambling, alcohol, and, uh, not-Claudia's-girls. They at least can be tactful when the kids are around."

"Because Mother would skin them alive. Verbally. But still—skin them. They respect Mother and Claudia too much, too, and I imagine even Federico would get upset," the Lord Auditore mused, snickering even.

"Pssh. More like he'd laugh it up. Giovanni would join him as soon as his brother told him, too. Even Claudia can't whoop that out of them. They do carry some of their fathers' genes—and their Uncle's," she mused, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Ezio mock-pouted, "Hey! I was... okay, no, I was that bad, but still. Either way, Diana and Giovanni will learn to get over it and keep busy with training. And Mario is, thankfully, too young to know why he's upset about it."

"Thankfully... but God he is growing fast. I'm only so glad he is far easier going than our little girl was. I haven't had any trouble with him so far. He's so inquisitive, though. I may need to have him go visit Leonardo for full days some time just to satisfy his curiosity."

"I think that's not a bad idea... when it's safe," her husband rumbled, and she hummed in agreement. Despite all their work for their artist friend, he was still under Borgia influence, and to be seen intimately associated with her or her family was just too dangerous. They would simply have to do with the occasional visit and teaching lessons.

"Well, at the very least we can rest easy knowing he'll grow up with good company. I'm glad little Giovanni came to stay with us. Diana has been looking livelier, too. I think she's glad to have a friend a bit closer to her age—someone she can already teach how to fight."

"Aaah, she takes after her mother more than we thought," Ezio snickered.

"What can I say? She got the good genes," she winked back, earning a proper laugh. "Ah, but they're growing up so fast, I swear. I feel like it was only yesterday I had to carry Diana all the time. Even Mario was barely getting on his own when we brought him back, now look at him! He's already reading and doing all sorts of things. It won't be long before Diana is a teenager! With Giovanni we'll have two in our midst, but hopefully with him being in the fold so young it won't be too bad."

Ezio chuckled, pulling her for a quick hug, "I'm sure it will be fine. The three of them are going to make good friends, which will help. He'll fit in fine here. That, and, I admit, I'm already fond of him. He's got spirit."

"I'm glad you do. I won't lie—I was a bit worried about making the decision without you... after I did it, of course, but still. I just hope we can do right by him. He doesn't speak of it properly, but... he was definitely scarred. Agnese told me he was never hit, but... Micheletto was scruel. Cesare, too. The only one who even seemed to care some was Lucrezia, as crazy as that sounds. Seems she wasn't a total heartless cow."

Her husband grinned, "Is that you changing your mind about her?"

She snorted, "Of course not. I still have a firm hatred for her in my heart, but... She's obviously not all bad like her brother."

"No, definitely not, but we can talk about that later. La Volpe is waiting," Ezio hummed, gesturing to the door behind them, which barely muted the sounds of revelry within. She made an "ah" sound and pressed by him to open the door. Sure enough, a raucous chorus of laughter, curses, squeals, shouts, and singing blasted their ears while the smell of wine, sex, and everything in between hit their noses. It was certainly a sight to behold, the tremendous crowd of denizens around the many tables and at the single bar where the taps ran freely. Courtesans danced about or "entertained" in other ways, and on one side of the room an intense game of dice and cards was going on. Someone was no doubt losing money and another taking it for his own—all in the Assassins' favor, of course.

The two Assassins entered casually, avoiding any drunken guests, and made for the bar while glancing around for the infamous fox. He was ever illusive, and never made it easy to find him in the dimly lit place. Indeed, just as they began to wonder if he was even there, he appeared in all his orange-colored glory—just like his namesake. All he was missing was ears and a tail.

"Hello, Ezio, Catherine, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's time to pay a visit to Lucrezia's lover, Pietro."

The older man chuckled, "Yes, I did mention it—an actor and poet has the Lady Borgia's fancy at the moment, despite being married to the Duke of Ferrara."

"Of course," Catherine hummed, her tone dry and icy.

Ezio nudged her, "And?"

"I have sent my men out to find him."

"Good, we'll meet up with them then," the Auditore nodded, turning to head out. La Volpe stepped forward, though, calling out to him.

"If I may..."

"What is it?"

A somber look came over the fox's face, "Someone warned Rodrigo to stay away from the Castello when you made your attack two years ago."

"What? How can you be sure after so long? Who would even do that?" Catherine guffawed, though kept her voice low.

"I have had to mull on it for some time, my Lady, and gather evidence among my men, but I am certain. Rodrigo was warned."

"...You believe it was Machiavelli," Ezio spoke, earning a confirming glance and a spread of his arms. The Assassin—and his wife—sighed, though more with a mixture of frustration and exasperation. "Do you have proof this time?"

La Volpe's frowned, "No."

"I know this had weighed heavy on your mind for all these years, but we must not be split apart by mere suspicion," he replied, his voice firm as he jabbed at the ground. Before La Volpe could speak, the door to the inn burst open and a thief rushed through. He panted and was sweaty, as if having rushed as fast he could. His frantic expression did not bode well. Catherine braced herself.

"The Borgia know the locations of our spies!"

"Who told them?" his leader inquired.

"I... I'm not sure... But Master Machiavelli asked about our search for Pietro earlier today."

Catherine hated how bad that sounded, but their friend wasn't a traitor. He couldn't be—not after all he'd done to ensure the safety of the Order. He'd been with it from even before she was an Assassin, even before he'd first revealed himself in Venezia all those years ago. Why would he betray them all of a sudden? Why help Ezio when their home had fallen? Why take in their daughter and see to her safety—and Giovanni's? Why keep helping them when he could simply wipe them out?

Yet, she couldn't simply let it slide. Nor could Ezio, and she knew he thought the same when their eyes met. He was frustrated, but he could not say no. It would be an insult to La Volpe, and to ignore his concerns would be a slap to the face. They needed his trust and loyalty—and friendship—as much as the others. They would have to look into it.

"It doesn't prove anything, but... we can't ignore it. We need to help your spies first, though," Catherine sighed, touching the thief's shoulder briefly, whom nodded, though he still was not totally pleased. She doubt he would be until they took down Machiavelli, but that wouldn't happen. The man was innocent. She was sure of it.

Ezio led the way outside, Volpe, Catherine, and the thief right on their heels. It was a good thing they were already equipped and ready to go—they had barely made it a few steps when horses came pounding towards the little rural town, and their rides bore the Borgia red.

"You did not lose your pursuers!?" La Volpe hissed, slapping the thief behind the head. The man gave a pathetic look as his leader drew his dagger. "Ezio, if you do not mind...?"

"We can't have your little den getting found now can we?" her husband mused wryly, although a scowl was etched on his face as he approached the dismounting riders. The redhead drew her blade as he did, and their enemy followed in suit.

The clash was small and relatively quick. A few more thieves came to join them in the brawl, which was useful when another wave of Borgia came by. It ended in their victory, of course, and ten Borgia bodies littered the courtyard while only one thief did. No loss was a good loss, but it was better than having the den discovered Thankfully, the bodies would be gone soon enough with the thieves knowing how to "dispose" of such things very well, which left the Thief Leader and the two Assassins to mount their own steeds and head off into the countryside once more.

"I still don't believe Machiavelli has turned traitor," Ezio shouted as they pushed the horses into a light canter.

La Volpe almost scoffed, "First the Villa attack, then the Castello, and now this. He is behind it all."

"Except Machiavelli is the one who brought us into the Order, and he's the one who's helped us all this time! Our Order would be nothing like it is without him!" Catherine rejoined, earning a glance from under the hood.

"All a ploy. I am certain of it."

"A bit complex and not very helpful to the Borgia if it is."

"Because he seeks to be rid of both of his enemies at once. I have seen such tactics, and you both know the cruelty and terrible lengths the Templars will go to achieve their goals."

"Even so... we must have proof La Volpe," Ezio replied this time. "We owe Machiavelli too much to simply believe he has betrayed us."

"Then I will give it to you—ah! There! Hurry, one of my men is in trouble!" the fox barked, pointing to an old structure used for living and shops in the distance, not far from some of the ancient roman fields. Sure enough, a lone thief faced off against three Borgia dogs, his comrades already slain. The trio urged their horses into a gallop, closing the distance in seconds. The battle to come lasted much longer, the group ducking and dodging blow after blow until, at last, the final swordsman fell to a Hidden Blade.

Their rescued thief leaned against a nearby wooden fence to catch his breath, his body scraped, bleeding, and bruised, but he was very much so alive. His comrades, however, had not been so lucky, and remained motionless in their own puddles of blood. La Volpe regarded each for a reverent moment before he came to his remaining man.

"What were you able to find out?"

He wiped a bit of blood from his lip, "Pietro is to be assassinated this evening. Cesare sent his butcher."

"Micheletto?" Catherine breathed, memories returning in flashes that left a bitter burning in her gut that suited the scowl on her face.

"Yes. The best killer in Roma. No one escapes him."

"We did before, and it will happen again tonight," Ezio growled softly, wielding his own hatred. "Come on, let's hurry to your men."

"They are near the baths, quickly!" La Volpe barked, leaping onto his horse, and racing off. The two Assassins only exchanged a look before following in suit, their pace set to as fast as they dared.

It thankfully was not too far, but again they were too late to prevent the death of two of their allies. The guards had cut them down and even kicked their lifeless bodies with a laugh. Just feet away, a single survivor remained. He was injured—one arm hung limp by his side, painted red—but kept a dagger up despite his poor situation. Four guards began to converge on him, but they would only get within feet before La Volpe surged his horse through them, striking one directly and sending him flying. He did not get up, though he did howl in agony. The others only stumbled and gasped in surprise before they bellowed with rage and turned their attention from the thief. Ezio and Catherine leaped into the fray then, rolling up from their fall from their horses and meeting steel with steel. The injured thief retreated to safety as they fought, back to back and parrying sword and spear. Ducking and dodging, they struck, metal slicing flesh, and four more Borgia dogs fell.

"Just like the good old days, eh?" Catherine chuckled as she wiped her blade on the grass.

"My back hurts a bit more than it did back then," Ezio snickered, similarly cleaning his Hidden Blades.

"Oh, hush, you're only in your forties," she quipped back before turning to La Volpe, whom inspected his thief's wound. "How bad is it?"

"He'll live, thankfully. Were you able to uncover anything about Pietro?" the leader asked as he took the thief's scarf and used it as a makeshift bandage.

The thief winced, but nodded, "The man is performing in a play tonight."

"Good, you did well. Now, hurry and return to the Den so the Doctor can see to you. Quickly! Keep out of sight!" La Volpe rasped, gesturing for him to go. The thief nodded, spared his fallen comrades a final look, and then stole a nearby horse and sped off. His leader turned to the two Assassins, his face grim. "Four more thieves gone. We have one more location. I pray we make it in time."

This time, they did.

The venture took them towards a populated area in the rural parts of Roma, situated on top of a ruin and well. Again, the thieves were under attack, but they were holding firm. One had been sliced on the leg, but he would survive with no issue. Their enemy had fallen in their stead, and there was a palpable feeling of relief among the group as La Volpe conferred with them about the actor like he had with the others.

"He is to be suspended from a cross. Micheletto will come for him with a spear."

"Good, you did well. You should return to your safe house here to mend and lay low until all is clear," the fox replied, clapping the young man on the arm.

The thief motioned off in a direction, "Giorgio knows more. He got the others to the safe house before we were cut off. Thankfully, they did not see where he went."

"Excellent. Let's go," his leader nodded and gestured for Catherine and Ezio to follow him. They moved a few streets over, coming to yet one of many unfinished houses. Their contact knocked on the door three times then twice, and a moment later the door opened. Their injured thieves were hurried inside while Giorgio, or Catherine assumed that's who it was, slunk outside to speak with them.

"What do you know of Pietro? Where is he?"

He shrugged, "I cannot tell you. But Micheletto waits at the city gate east of the Baths of Trajan. He intends to disguise his men to make the killing look like an accident."

"Good, go on, then. See to your brothers," the fox replied, urging the thief off. He turned to his two comrades, whom met his gaze.

"Micheletto will lead us to Lucrezia's lover."

"Ezio, Catherine... Machiavelli has betrayed us. You may wish to deny it—even I wish to, but the truth is now clear."

Catherine grit her teeth. She didn't want to take this stance; she didn't want to push his buttons and insult him, but this was too much. Machiavelli had become a close friend—almost like family—and he'd done so much for them. She didn't know why La Volpe was so set on believing it was true, but it was he who was blind to the truth. She only wished she could find the true traitor and show him.

"Yes, it is—that you don't have any real proof," she spoke, earning a quick look from her husband, and a flicker of surprise that turned into a glare.

"Is not the blood of my men proof enough!? Who else could have known their locations? My thieves would never betray each other, and it was Machiavelli who was asking about them! And who is it of us that fraternizes with our enemy hmm? Who goes to their courts? Who speaks with the supporters of the Borgia so kindly and shares their wine, hmm? Who was the one to leave the Villa just before it fell? Who was it that was seen conferring with Borgia guards? My thieves see all and tell all. Machiavelli. Is. A. Traitor!" the man snarled, jabbing a finger at the ground.

"That is coincidence, La Volpe, and you know it," she barked back. "Correlation isn't causation, and he's done far more to help us than hinder us. We can't just go after him—especially not kill him—without concrete proof!"

The thief's eyes were cold, "If you will not do what needs to be done, then I will."

"Volpe—!" Ezio called as the older man spun on his heel and stormed off, but he would not be swayed. The Assassin groaned, rubbing his face, and looked to his wife.

"What? You think the same."

He sighed this time, "I do, but... dammit all! I didn't want to have things come to this... Fuck. We have to hurry. We need to prove Machiavelli's innocence and save Pietro."

"We need to hurry and find Micheletto at the gate and stop his plans. But La Volpe won't help us, and his thieves were hit too hard. We're going to need our recruits."

"We have a coop nearby. Let's send a message and have them meet us. I'll call for as many as are available. We don't know how many we'll need for the play," Catherine mused, glancing around until she spotted the structure not far off. It would be a simple message, so it only took a few minutes to scratch out where to meet them and to do it now. It would take only minutes for the pigeon to reach their fortress, and minutes more for their Assassins to arrive, but it was enough time.

"Ready?" Ezio called once she released the bird and she nodded. They headed off towards the gate to the east of the small town. It wasn't far, and already there was movement at the gate. Ezio nudged her towards a vantage on a nearby small cliff obscured a bit by trees. There they hunkered down, watching as the group of men—and soldiers—paraded under the metal bars of the gate that dropped down behind them as soon as they were through. It was impossible to mistake the extravagant armor and red colors of Cesare—Catherine tensed at the sight of him—and beside him was his dog. She'd know the man anywhere, and unlike Lucrezia, she felt nothing but unrelenting hatred for him.

It was different from before, though, that she was sure of. For one, she had clarity in her mind, and the madness that had overcome her the first time was not there. This was a different kind of loathing that was on par with that for Cesare. Two men who needed to die, to free Roma from a terrible scourge.

There was another man with them, though; one she didn't recognize. He was being held by their guards, his arms bound behind his back and face blind-folded, so was he an enemy of the Borgia? She couldn't be sure, and she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Cesare's body language was tense and aggressive, though. Even what should have been a friendly, intimate gesture—touching the man's cheeks with his hands—was dangerous. Worse still, Micheletto was stalking closer, something in his grasp. He was like a vulture, circling in for the kill. Then—the strike. A rope