July 30, 1476
Florence, Italy
Applying a few more brush strokes, Catherine leaned back in her seat and took a look at what she had created. It was a small canvas—not much bigger than a regular piece of paper—and on it she had made an attempt to recreate the painting that was set up next to her. It was a young lady with a dog at her side and baby in her arms set against a background with lush green fields and a well-made structure. It was one of Leonardo's, and while she felt weird copying a painting, he had insisted in order for her to "test" her skills with oil and tempura. She has worked with oil and acrylic, but tempura she didn't ever recall using. Regardless, she ended up using the oil paints and had technically started yesterday, but only now got the woman in her attempt to look somewhat similar to the artist's.
"Well, I guess I'm not terrible?" she chuckled, noting how she wasn't nearly as capable of capturing the life-like quality. Now, if this had been on her laptop she probably could have done a lot better. She supposed it wasn't that bad, but Leonardo was just on a whole other level, and it showed. Then again, it would show with anyone.
"You said you had not practiced much with oils, no? You do much better than most novices who have been trying to use it for a while," Leonardo smiled as he looked over her shoulder. He gestured to the painting. "You are simply... lacking in terms of the colors and brush technique. That is all. You need only to refine your strokes and blend your colors better."
She rolled her eyes, grinning, "The Master makes it sound so easy."
"Oh, but it is not that difficult, I assure you. Already you are on your way. Just keep at it."
"Leo, I'm beginning to think you're quite desperate for a friend who loves art as much as you do," Catherine hummed, turning around to point her brush at him. He smiled cheekily.
"Am I so easy to discern?" he chuckled, holding out his hands. "Can you blame me, though? It is no easy to find someone like yourself—one who shares a love for art and science and inventing and knowledge!"
"Well, it might help if you went outside. Based on the mess in here, I'd say you haven't fooor... a few days now," she snickered in reply, looking around the place, which was, in fact, a mess. Canvases were practically everywhere, as were chairs and papers, and little models of inventions he had in mind. Glasses and wine bottles were here and there, and there were things of paint and brushes and drawing tools scattered across the floor. His fire place was also chock full of ashes She didn't dare look in his room—she could only imagine his bed was just as much of a mess. His "other work" room was definitely in disarray, and all she had to do was glance in at cluster of drawn diagram of bodies and the bloodied tools and sheets. The last one might have disturbed others, but she saw no issue with it—the people were dead, after all, and his drawings would lead to a lot of discoveries far beyond his time. She would never dream of interfering. Except, that is, for the putrid smell. He'd had one body too long once, and it had not been a pleasant visit despite his profuse apologizing.
"Hmm... well, ah... I, ah... I may have been here, ah... a little too long," Leonardo rumbled, looking around his workshop awkwardly. "But—but I have been busy..."
"Oh, yes, I can tell by all the half-finished paintings," Catherine cheekily as she set her paint brush and pallet down to turn around in her seat and lean over the back.
Leonardo managed to smile awkwardly, "You are astute as always, although I admit I wish you were not right now."
"Oh, I bet, but somebody has to keep you on track so you can keep earning money," she snorted back. "What has you so occupied this time?"
"Hmm? Oh, well, just study of the human form, really. I've always been fascinated by it," he replied, motioning to his desk. She raised a curious brow before abandoning her canvas to come over to the desk where he showed her a bundle of papers. On them were a great deal of sketches of various parts of the body; faces of all ages, muscular torsos, toned arms, sculpted legs, and a full body of one man. Actually, all of them were of the male form, and most were quite young except for a few of the heads. She couldn't help grinning a little as she gave her friend a wry look.
"I take it no women wanted to pose nude for you?"
"Well, ah, that is one reason, but I simply find the male form far superior to study—no offense, of course. The female body just does not hold as much interest."
"Frankly, I find the male form far more interesting than the female as well," Catherine laughed, and expected the painter to do so as well. However, when she looked to her silent companion she found discomfort rather than amusement. Certainly there was worry, and she didn't really understand why. It had just been a joke, and she knew the artist had been thought to have been gay so why?
The redhead mentally groaned and slapped herself as she remembered exactly why. Homosexuality was frowned upon during this time by society, although not too much was done about it—not yet. Leonardo had mentioned he'd had to deal with the authorities for some "incident", and though he had never mentioned why, she'd suspected it had been some accusation against him. However, she'd only thought it might have been a jealous compatriot trying to ruin him, not about homosexuality. Thankfully, the accusations had been dropped thanks to some involvement of outside source, so Leonardo had said it was nothing to worry about. Yet here she was inadvertently bringing it back up, and being so careless; not even considering he would still be upset by it. How could he not? Punishments could be so harsh here and it could have ruined his art—his life!
"Oh my God—Leo, no! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean anything by that!" she began, reaching over to grab his arm.
He waved her off, but his smile was forced, "No, no—it is alright. I was just thinking about something else. No need to worry."
"No, Leonardo, I'm so sorry. I should have figured it out by now—I'm so, so sorry. I swear I didn't mean any harm by it. I honestly don't care what your preferences are. I promise. It doesn't bug me, and I would never say anything. Hell, if you need to, just say I'm your whore or something—or—or I don't know. But if someone tries to do anything, the least I can do is be an excuse for you or a way to get them off your back," Catherine continued, hoping she hadn't ruined the man's opinion of her. It may have only been a few weeks now, but she felt she had a true friend in the artist, and she knew he considered her a friend, too, or she was pretty sure he did. They'd enjoyed every day she was able to spend in his place, which wasn't nearly as long as she wanted. It would be for hours at a time, though, and there was never a moment they didn't get along. She knew others had seen her come and go, so the idea could work, although really it was to make up for her blunder and hopefully make him see she honestly did mean absolutely nothing by it. She didn't care what his preferences were and would never consider outing him.
The artist sighed, but touched her hand with a more genuine smile, "Forgive me. I know you only meant well. I... the wound is still fresh, if you will. I am quick to react even though you jest. And... I thank-you, for your offer. I do not think—and certainly I do not hope—I will have to use it. I would never wish nor want or like to call you a whore—you are far from it, and you are my friend."
"Still, it's there if you need it. I would hate for some asshole to try and disgrace you just because they're jealous or spiteful or something."
"As would I, but I truly dislike confrontation. I would avoid it entirely if I could," he sighed, shaking his head, and then started to organize his desk some. She helped him, going to the other side, and putting what she saw were alike with each other.
"If only the rest of the world though the same, then things might be easier. Although I can never agree with your views on meat. I still say you're missing out, and technically chicken and cows are bred to be eaten," Catherine chuckled, hoping to change the mood some and get far away from where they had been moments before.
He rolled his eyes, but he grinned, "Perhaps, but I simply can take no joy in it when man harms the beasts they do not cultivate to place upon their plate."
"Okay, now that I can understand. I would definitely punch a man for kicking a defenseless dog or even a chicken. People shouldn't harm animals unless it's maybe for self-defense. It's disgusting, really. It's like a grown man harming a child," she rumbled, shaking her head.
"My thoughts exactly... and ah, thank-you. At least my desk looks respectable, no?" Leonardo hummed with amusement as he took the pile she'd made and put it on a corner with the others. She just chuckled and nodded, but then paused when she heard his personal clock chime. She turned to look up at the unique contraption and noted the hour hand sat at three.
"Jesus—it's three already?" she mused and then turned to look at her friend apologetically. "Sorry, but I promised Petruccio that I would spend time with him today! I haven't gotten to spend much, so he's been really eager about it!"
Leonardo waved off her apology, "Worry not; I have you kept you long enough here. Go ahead and return to the Auditore's. I will clean up."
"Thank-you, Leo!" she grinned as she trotted around the table and gave him a quick hug. He laughed, returning a few pats and then ushered her off. She waved while hurrying out of the workshop, and then jogged through the streets. Any looks sent her way were easily ignored—in fact, she dared to say it only bothered here every once in a long while. Maria had helped a lot with that. She'd given her a good talk about how to handle things, and now regardless of whether she wore dresses or trousers like she did today, neither made her uneasy in public. Of course, the Auditore's Palazzo was maybe a minute away at most from Leonardo's, so she was never in public long when going home. She was still happy to be back, though, which was a nice change from where she'd been a little over a week ago.
She had Ezio to thank, she knew. She honestly couldn't believe it, but the roof time talks had really helped relieve her anxieties. Oh, she never told him the real truth, but she got to talk a bit about her life and think about home without worrying she might mess up. Federico had joined them at some point, too, and though the younger brother had been a little huffy about it, all three of them had gotten along and talked like they did out in the streets. It was a huge relief, and because of it she'd been sleeping a lot better. In fact, she was pretty sure she hadn't suffer insomnia since the night before Ezio had started the talks. That helped, too, of course; she felt more invigorated and light and things just felt better. She was certaily happier, even if she knew she was still out of place. Oh, indeed, she still thought of how she was so far out of home and may never get back, but it was just easier to handle.
Catherine smiled as she came underneath the Palazzo's entryway and waved to Maria, whom was tending to the vine flowers in the courtyard. The older woman nodded back before returning to her flowers and humming some soft tune. She was the only one out there, so the redhead headed inside. Giovanni and the boys were gone, making the home essentially empty besides a few servants. She had finally gotten round to coming across more of them besides Annetta, but as the head of the family had asked, she didn't converse with them much. If they were concerned by her presence, they never showed it; just bowed and headed on by. That was fine by her, and so she just nodded back whenever she passed by one of them in the hall and made her way to the parlor. There she found her target, innocently sitting on the couch with his back turned to her. Claudia was with him, too, but reading a book in a chair in the corner. Neither had noticed her, and, suspecting both were enthralled enough by their items of interest, she tip-toed her way until she was just behind the young man. She raised her arms high with a wicked grin, and then, like a vast, predatory bird, she struck. Her fingers clamped onto his shoulders, and the boy let out a squeal of surprise, startling his sister.
"Catherine!" Petruccio laughed when he finally saw who it was, although his cheeks were flushed. Still, he hugged her the moment she got around the couch, and she happily fell onto the cushions with him. "You got me!"
"You have to always keep an eye on your surroundings!" the redhead laughed before glancing over at Claudia, whom had been staring. As soon as the young woman realized she'd been noticed, Claudia huffed, rolled her eyes, and went back to her book. She muttered something under her breath, but none of it could be made out.
"I was busy drawing, though—look!" the young boy grinned, grabbing his parchment and showing Catherine his attempt at his sister. He hadn't improved all that much really, but he was trying, and how could she say he wasn't doing great?
Smiling, she rubbed his head, "You're getting better, Petruccio! Before you know it your mother will be paying you for drawings!"
"I hope to be as good as you one day—drawing is so much fun! I can put whatever I like on paper and it does not make me feel ill!" he beamed, putting the parchment back with the others and pushing them aside. He turned back towards her then, grabbing her hand with such hope in his eyes. "Now that you are here, you can tell me a new story like you promised, yes? I wish to hear one!"
She laughed, "Alright, alright, just hold on. Let me think... hmmm... what about... well, now this one is a little different from the others... it's more magical, but... it's a story called Beauty and the Beast. It doesn't have Knights, per say, and there is romance, mind you, but it's a good story with a bit of action at the end. Actually... this is really more a story for your sister, so..."
"Oh, no, no, I will hear it! All of your stories are so amazing, and there is a beast involved! I wish to hear it! Please tell me! Pleeeeeeease!" the young boy wailed, grasping her hand tighter and basically bouncing in his seat. "I do not mind it is a story for girls or has romance! All the other ones have had romance, too, and they were still amazing!"
"Well, this one is more focused on romance," she began, wondering if she should say another, but the boy's look just made her chuckled and rub his head again. "But alright, alright. Like I said, this story is called 'Beauty and the Beast'. It's about love and seeing the inner beauty of someone, and it all starts with a handsome Prince and an old, ugly woman who came to his castle seeking refuge. The Prince was cruel and heartless, though, and refused the old woman because she was so ugly. However, the old woman was really a sorceress of immense beauty who had come to tests the Prince's heart, but because it was filled with ugliness she cursed him; his appearance would now reflect his heart, and so he became a monstrous beast! He grew thick fur all over his body and a tail like a wolf and his feet turned to paws and his hands turned to claws. His hair grew into a lion's mane and he gained a lion's jaw. Sharp, mangle horns grew from his head and a goat's beard came down from his chin!"
"A beast!" the young man gasped, completely enthralled by her words. Beyond him, Claudia rolled her eyes, no doubt finding it all foolish. Yet, Catherine noticed the young woman was listening. She smiled secretly at that.
"Yes. A terrifying beast! But that was not all! The witch covered the Prince's castle in sharp thorns, turned all his servants and workers into the furniture and tools of the castle, and bound his heart to a magical rose, sealed within a glass case. Every year a petal would fall from the rose, and when the last fell, the Prince would die. However—should the Prince prove he had a heart filled with beauty and find even just one person who loved him, then the spell would be broken. The witch vanished then, and the Prince, disgusted by his form, fell into despair. How could anyone love a beast? Surely, it was impossible, and so for years the castle was left untouched and grew dark and somber like its master's heart. The woods around it, once beautiful and magnificent, turned gnarly and dangerous. Wolves and other woodland beasts took up home there, and it became a place where none dared venture—that is, until many years later."
"Witches? Man-Beasts? Magical Roses? Really? These are the kinds of stories you tell him? No wonder he goes on about such nonsense all the time—you are constantly filling his head with it!" Claudia sighed with exasperation, gesturing with her hand.
"There is nothing wrong it with it, Claudia! Her stories are amazing, and you would think so, too, if you listened! I know magic is not real, but that is not the point!" Petruccio huffed back, giving his sister a glare. The young woman returned the look and then held her nose up at him indignantly.
"It is still silly, and you should learn to act your age!" she snapped and returned to her book, shielding herself from the hurt that showed on her brother's face.
Catherine sighed and gave the young boy a hug, "Oh, don't worry about her. Still want me to keep telling the story?"
"Yes," he sighed, leaning into her embrace.
"Okay," she smiled, squeezing his shoulder before letting him free and leaning back to continue the fairytale she loved. She went on introducing Belle, the young woman who loved to read and imagine, and yearned to see the world, and her inventor father who was practically lost without her and loved her dear. She told him of Gaston, the handsome, but cruel man who pined after Belle, but she wanted nothing to do with him. It had been a while since she'd watched the movie, but Catherine knew it well enough to immerse Petruccio in the world of the fairytale and the trials Belle and the Beast went through to slowly grow to love one another. The young boy found it all exciting—especially the end where Gaston and the villagers came to slay the Beast, but the hunter finally got what he deserved. To end it, she happily embellished the scene in which Belle found the Beast, nearly dead, and confessed her love for him that she had found despite his grotesque appearance. The redhead couldn't help grinning when she found both Petruccio and Claudia listening intently as she described the moment in which the witch's curse was lifted, turning the Beast handsome and all the furniture back into his faithful servants and workers. She happily smiled a she reached the end.
"Beast—now a prince, married Belle not long after, and they all lived happily ever after," she finished, and watched as Petruccio clapped his hands together excitedly.
"Oh, that was wonderful! I loved it! That Gaston got what he deserved! I am so glad the Beast found love—he was not so bad in the end at all!"
"But—but how?" Claudia suddenly exclaimed, face contorted with confusion. Both redhead and boy looked to the young woman. "How could Belle come to love such a monstrous looking creature? Surely she was disgusted by him! He was a monster—you cannot love a monster."
Catherine sighed a bit, "Well, that's the thing—fairytales are metaphors for real life. Beauty and the Beast is a story about seeing beneath looks to find the beauty within. Gaston was considered the most handsome man in the village and women would swoon at the sight of him, but he was ugly deep down. He was arrogant and cruel, so Belle could never love him. Yet, Beast, whom was ugly and deformed on the outside, had a heart full of goodness and kindness, so Belle came to love him. It's to show that inner beauty is far better than outer beauty—that the inside makes you truly beautiful."
The young woman frowned, obviously puzzled by this. Was it really so strange? Then again, she supposed most relationships were based on looks, weren't they? Even in her time people got with the prettiest person they could find, and while sometimes it worked out, it wasn't long before the dysfunction in personality emerged. She knew relationships in olden times were similar; people married for looks or politics and money. Personality was hardly a factor until later when you suddenly didn't like who you lived with anymore. She couldn't really blame Claudia for how the world was, she supposed. She wouldn't have known much else.
"I... suppose that makes sense," the woman hummed, but she still did not look fully convinced. Maybe. It was hard to tell sometimes.
"Well, I hope you didn't mind the story. It's a really good one—one of my favorites," Catherine chuckled, and Claudia flushed as her eyes widened.
"I-I it—it... I... you...I... f-fine. I... yes. I enjoyed it. Are you happy now?"
"See! I told you her stories were wonderful!" Petruccio giggled, clapping his hands together.
"I suppose. You should still not take them so seriously. It is only make believe, anyways."
"Well, sometimes there is truth in them—again, they are metaphors. They have lessons in them. This one is to try and find the beauty within a person and not judge them so quickly," the redhead smiled, and for once Claudia said nothing harsh back. She didn't even glare. Rather, she seemed to really consider it—for a little bit, anyways. She soon took on that usual expression of annoyance—perhaps more so with herself this time—and shut her book a little too quickly. She paused, as if ready to say something, but decided against it in the end as she stood and curtsied.
"Thank-you for your story, Catherine. I will see you at a later time, little brother," she told them, and then she was gone, strolling off down the hallway. The redhead watched her go until she was out of sight and then looked to Petruccio.
"Maybe I'm jumping the gun, but... I think she doesn't hate me anymore."
The young boy grinned, "No, I do not think she does. I told you she would not hold on to her anger for long. I think she may like you now, too."
"Eh... I wouldn't go that far, but this is a start," the redhead winked. "Anyways... Another story or do you want to draw some more? Actually—have you thought of any stories or creatures?"
He giggled, shaking his head, "I am afraid not. I do not have the imagination that you do, Catherine. I am honestly jealous—you are so good at it! I cannot seem to make anything new."
"Aw, you don't have to make something new—you can make a story with what you have, too. Like you—why don't you write a story about yourself as a Knight off to save a princess?"
"I... I suppose I could do that," the young boy smiled brightly, his eyes shining with the spark of creativity now.
"Then get to it! You should start now while you have it!" the redhead laughed, urging him towards his parchment. Petruccio followed her lead and took up the parchment where he started to scribble and draw vehemently. Catherine watched him work, happy for him and pleased with herself to have given him some joy in his life. He had been more sickly than usual lately, but he had not been dour because of it—no, his time with her had kept him joyful and she knew the family appreciated it. She only wished she knew something to help his illness, but she was no doctor.
"Catherine."
Both couch-sitters turned to find the head of the Auditore family at the main parlor entrance, watching them with a smile. Petruccio made a sound of delight as he hopped up and ran over to embrace his father. Giovanni chuckled lovingly, hugging his son, and cupped his cheek.
"How are you feeling today, my boy?"
"I am doing very well, father! Catherine just told me another story, and it was wonderful! There was magic and a beast who became a handsome prince!"
"Oh? It sounds like quite the adventure," the older man hummed, looking to the woman briefly. "I am afraid I must ask to borrow Catherine from you—I would like to speak with her. Would that be alright?"
The boy pouted, grasping his father's tunic, "I... suppose. I would rather her help me write my own story, but... if you must."
"Thank-you, Petruccio. You are a good boy."
Catherine came over to join them, patting the boy's shoulder, "I shouldn't be gone too long. Although... if your father is home, your brothers can't be far behind. They may steal me away."
"No!" the little boy gasped. "No, that is not fair!"
"You may have to duel them for me," she winked.
"Do not fret, Petruccio—I will ensure she is returned to you when I am done, and that your brothers will leave her be."
"Thank-you, Father!" his son sighed with relief and then returned to his parchment. Giovanni chuckled, the love for his child all-too evident in his eyes. He tamed it some when he turned to the young woman and motioned for her to follow. She smiled back with a nod and obeyed.
"You wanted to talk?" she inquired, and he nodded.
"Yes, I need to ask some question, among other things."
"Right."
When he did not continue, she knew it would have to wait for when they were in his room. No doubt it had to do with either her training, something about where she was going—it had been long enough here—something about the future, or a combination. They had talked more about it lately, although she made sure to never speak of important events or name anything directly if she could. She still explained things like television and filtered water and airplanes and cars as best she could without giving it away. She also spoke of politics occasionally, but she had to confess she honestly didn't know all that much beyond peer opinion, which was never good. Apparently that wasn't uncommon in the past, either. Other than that, though, he mostly inquired of how a normal people like herself lived, and he seemed relieved to know that her home—she didn't say where since America hadn't been found yet—was one based upon freedom as best it could. She was happy to give him that respite—to know that his and his Order's work was apparently doing some kind of good. It was the least she could do.
"Right this way," he hummed, opening the doors for her. She happily made her way to his chairs and sat down, quite at ease in the room now. Not only had the talks relieved her anxiety, but she dared to say it had made moments with Giovanni better. That, and she and the older man had conversed a lot more—got along more, too. She felt they did, anyways. She enjoyed rather than dreaded their talks, and she almost dared to think she had his trust some. She couldn't be sure, but it was a nice thought.
"Sooo... not in trouble, right?" she began, having made a joke of it lately. He chuckled in response as he had every time now and took a seat across from her.
"Quite the opposite. You have been doing splendidly according to my wife and son. Federico says you are already able to get out of certain grips, and he admits you are getting closer to causing him worry during fights," he began, and she snorted—slightly insulted. Of course, it was true. She had yet to beat Federico in a fight, but she'd been forcing him to dodge more, so that was something. "And Maria says you are speaking—at least around her—much better, and you walk with more grace. She is pleased with your progress."
"I should hope so—she's pushed me hard this last week or so, and I'm just glad I have the energy to keep up!" she laughed lightly.
"She only means to help—but I am sure you know that."
"Oh, yes, but I still have to complain a little. Anyways... what questions did you have?"
He sat forward some, looking over his papers, "Yes... I know you do not know much of the Assassins or Templars, but I thought, perhaps that the Piece of Eden might have come to because you have strong Assassin blood. It has appeared to be the case in history that sooner or later they find their way to us or our enemies. I imagine that might sound odd to you, but there is a reason not everyone is an Assassin or even a Templar... only a select few are capable of doing what we do, and this is because of the abilities that come with our blood. Throughout history the members of our Order and even the Templars have possessed skills that no other has. You know it as Eagle Vision. You saw my son use it, and I used it when we first met as well."
"That... makes sense. So... I'm guessing you want to know if I have that skill?"
"Indeed... I believe you possess some—such as healing. Assassins have an odd knock for recovering far quicker than an ordinary man. Indeed, where a cut on anyone else may take days or a week to heal, an Assassin would need an hours or a day at the most. You may not have realized it, but your injuries have actually healed quickly. Beyond that, other abilities are a sixth sense in battle of sorts—to know when your opponent will attack whether he be in front or behind. It is a heightened sense of perception, you could say. And we also possess a particular resilience unknown by most—something we make use of when we leap from rooftops or endure our injuries."
"Well, uh, actually that makes a lot of sense, too, because I thought I always kind of healed fast... but, uh, I don't think I have the perception ability, and I definitely don't have Eagle Vision—I've never had anything like that. And... well, technically I am pretty resilient, but I've just always had a high pain tolerance, so I don't know about that," Catherine replied, frowning as she thought. Briefly, she recalled when the Clock had activated and the man had spoken to her. She was convinced the man was no god now, but he was definitely power and had said something important—something about "changing" her. Catherine thought so, anyways. Maybe. The memory wasn't as clear as she wanted anymore. What if she had been changed, though? Would she eventually have the Vision and was that why she recovered faster? Oddly, she decided not to mention it. It was probably better; she wasn't even sure she was right. She sighed as she rubbed her head. "If you don't mind me asking—why the question?"
"The place I intend to send you... they wish to know your abilities—both yourself and the Clock. I will inform them that it has a terrible power that might undo life as we know by tampering with the fabric of time, and so they will not seek to use it in any way. They may not even believe me. I also informed them that it will not be parted from you, so fret not... however, I do not yet know your full abilities, so I thought it best to ask. I admit, they will be disappointed you do not have strong blood, but they will appreciate you possessing free running and combat skills."
"I certainly appreciate them... although... um... if... if it's alright... who have you been talking to, by the way?"
Giovanni watched her for a moment, no doubt deciding, and then sighed, "I suppose it is only fair. You have earned that much... My aim was to send you to England. There is a decent Assassin hold there, and the royalty is sympathetic with us. There are fortresses there that could protect you, and their archives and researchers might be able to find answers to your Piece of Eden. However, communication has been... difficult. The country is, unfortunately, going through a time of internal conflict of the Royalty. Sending messages is no easy feat, and when I am the only proper Assassin in almost all of Italia... well, it is difficult."
"Is there no alternative?" she inquired, and couldn't help feeling a flicker of guilt go through her. She knew she shouldn't, but she was hoping he had no alternative. Then maybe—just maybe—she could stay and somehow convince him to let her help. She really should have given up by now, but she just couldn't.
"I... do have one in mind and have kept them in contact. Correspondence is much easier due to their much closer proximity, but we are, ah... not necessarily on good speaking terms, but I believe they will listen. I fear England may not be an option should the conflict there not resolve itself soon... but I will let you know should that change. I would advise you continue your training until then."
Her heart sank, "Oh. That's, uh... that's good then. I'll be safe there, I'm sure."
"Yes. Despite our differences, the location is incredibly secure. It has defended itself against many invaders and still stands as strong as any fort. Their leader is also an Assassin—of sorts. Not like myself, but a branch of it, although he possesses my skills. I suspect you will come to learn of the other sects should you go there. I do not doubt he would tell you," Giovanni chuckled, and there was a kind of fondness in his tone. Yet was a hint of sadness, too, and she couldn't help wondering how the older man knew this contact. She briefly wondered if they were family. She hadn't heard of any other relatives of the Auditore's, but it didn't seem likely they were all gone.
"Sounds like fun," Catherine chuckled, doing her best to hide her disappointment. She managed a smile as she sat up a bit straighter. "So... anymore questions for me? Anything about the future that I can only half-answer?"
He chuckled this time, "No. I do not think so. I told you I would not need you long, and I am sure Petruccio would like to have you back... I... I would like to thank-you for what you have done for him. He has was not nearly so happy before your arrival, and I am glad he has a friend in you."
"I'm glad to be that friend. He's a good kid... life just... made it hard for him to be one. He's smart, though. He might not end up as strong as his older brothers, but he'll be an intelligent young man. He could easily run a bank all by himself, I bet."
"I admit, that has been a dream of mine sometimes. Ezio and Federico have shown little interest and my eldest is fond of pulling pranks on my associates. I fear he may be fired at this rate," the father groaned, rubbing his brow, and Catherine had to work hard to not laugh aloud.
"Well, he doesn't slack when it comes to training?" she offered, and the man did smile a bit.
"Ah, yes... I believe he will make a strong Assassin—perhaps even better than I was. That is certainly my hope for him, but he will require an ordinary life to live by first. Perhaps one day I will instill some sense of work into him! At least then one of them will."
Catherine couldn't help laughing this time, "Ezio just hasn't grown up yet—I'm sure he'll be an okay Assassin and banker. Probably work for Petruccio."
"Now that is an idea," Giovanni chuckled, shaking his head. "Perhaps I should do that. Perhaps. Ah, but that is for Maria and I to worry about. You go on and spend time with Petruccio again."
"Alright, alright—just trying to give some good advice," the redhead snickering, winking playfully, and finally stood. She bowed her head respectfully. "It was good to speak to you as always."
"Likewise," he nodded, smiling back.
Catherine gave him a small wave farewell before making her way out of the room and to the youngest Auditore, whom was all too happy to have her back and tell him another story. She, of course, was just as happy to do so, and told him as many stories and drew him as many things he wanted for as long as they had. It was the least she could do, and she knew she would be busy that evening. She had a "date" with the boys, and so she kept all her focus on little Petruccio even until dinner. All the while she held on the hope that one day he would no longer be held back by his sickness and could become that man she and Giovanni knew he could be, and the maybe he would have that kind of faith in her, too.