xxix λ retirement

[assemblatore]

[Needless to say, Ezio Auditore did not expect to be in this place. No one ever does; if you could, it wouldn't be Paradisa, would it?

And Ezio does not go quietly. Instead, he's the one with an iron fire poker, stalking through the halls with as much haste as he can. His old body make it difficult, but adrenaline has a way of providing one with the strength.

He's on edge. He doesn't know what to make of this strange new place, or how he got here. Is he dead? Did Shao Jun's pursuers get the best of him? And –– most important of all –– is his family alright?

And there's his voice, still heavily accented but much older, much more gravelly:]


Come out, you dogs, and greet me! Or are you too cowardly to face an old man?

Comments

[heloise]

For the worse then.

[assemblatore]

It was inevitable, with my life... but now I am retired. I am content.

[heloise]

Does a banker collect so many enemies?

[assemblatore]

[That gets a laugh. He thinks she's joking.]

Yes, apparently.

[heloise]

[ But why is he laughing? She feels as if she said something foolish. ]

Only if they are dishonest, surely.

[assemblatore]

I was honest to a fault... but I bought much of the public property in Rome, and that made me competition.

[heloise]

I doubt the minor lords could pose you much trouble. And if they do. [ She smirks. Rome belongs to the Pope, of course. ]

[assemblatore]

Your father wasn't pleased.

[heloise]

[ Lucrezia tips her chin up and sets her glass of wine aside. ] Property holds little interest to him.

[assemblatore]

That doesn't surprise me.

[heloise]

Yet you claim it displeases him to see you collect properties for yourself.

[assemblatore]

[It wasn't the properties that displeased him... it was Ezio Auditore buying and winning the favour of the Romans.

It was also more Cesare than Rodrigo, in the end, but Ezio isn't going to say a word about that.]

I will arrive in Rome in 1499. You will understand then.

[heloise]

Did you remember to visit me? [ She reconsiders. ]

Would I still be in Rome then?

[assemblatore]

You were in Rome then, yes, and we met.

[And it was less than happy circumstances. He feels somewhat uncomfortable on the topic, even.]

[heloise]

[ That is good news for her, if it means she could hold off her father's push for a marriage for her. ]

I was surely glad for it.

[assemblatore]

You sent a welcoming party and everything.

[And blew up my fucking home.]

[heloise]

[ She smiles. ]

I would. With sweets for gifts and minstrels to entertain you.

[assemblatore]

Yes.

[Minstrels in the form of cannon fire, sweets in the form of managing to survive...]

But I would not spoil such a thing for you before you can experience it for yourself.

[heloise]

I would not have you spoil the joys. The sorrows, however?

[assemblatore]

I would not spoil those, either.

[heloise]

Why not, when those are not to be savored?

[assemblatore]

They come with lessons.

[heloise]

And you would not dilute them.

[assemblatore]

How would you learn, if I did? Experience is the most brutal of teachers, Lucrezia, but it is the best lesson one could ever have.

[heloise]

Yet lessons learned turn one bitter, as perhaps you know yourself.