Brotherhood: The Recruits [18/?]
Brotherhood: The Recruits
Author: name-me-regret
AN: The Assassin’s Creed Wikia states that Silvestro Sabbatini lost his left arm because Cesare had Micheletto slice it off as punishment after failing in a mission involving a courtesan. I always thought it involved Fiora Cavazza in a way, but there’s no mention of it. However, I wanted to stay away from this particular character because I never did like him. So, lo and behold, this chapter was born. The title was left untranslated for a reason. Enjoy.
Chapter Eighteen: Tratta di Persone
1493
“Where did you find him?”
“He was lying on the ground in an alleyway, and we found him by accident. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
“Go fetch the doctor. He needs to live...”
Vittorio’s eyes fluttered open for a moment as he felt hands lifting him and moaned as he felt the knife get pulled out of his back. His eyesight was blurry so he couldn’t distinguish the people that surrounded him. “It’s alright, bambino,” a voice reassured him as a hand pushed back the sweaty strands of his hair. “You’re safe.” His eyes grew heavier and couldn’t stay conscious any longer, and he dreamed.
~o~
‘I came back just for you, Vittorio.’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘But I will never let you hurt my son again!’
‘I love you, Vittorio...’
~o~
A choking gasp signaled his return to consciousness as he lifted his head and realized he was lying face down on a cot in a stifling hot room as sweat dotted his forehead and face. Vittorio had no idea where he was, but he knew that the sweat covering his entire body had more to do with the nightmares that had plagued him. As he moved to look around the room, a slightly damp rag from the back of his head, and wondered if it was due to a fever he may have suffered.
Vittorio groggily looked around the room he was in with only his right eye since the other was covered by something, and saw sunlight streaming through the cracks in the shabby shutters and door. The youth had certainly been in far better places than this wretched room, but at the moment he was too tired and in too much pain to really care. He only cared about finding out where this place was, and if he was safe here. Vittorio didn’t think Carlo or someone associated with him had found him, or he would more than likely be dead by now.
The youth had just managed to stand on shaky legs without vomiting from the pain when the door opened, and it startled him so badly that he lost his balance and fell to the ground. He would never admit to the small sob that escaped his mouth as his wound was jarred, and he heaved with the abrupt change of position but managed to swallow the bile crawling up his esophagus. Vittorio flinched away from the hand that tried to help him to his feet. “Peace, ragazzo,” someone murmured, the voice of a young man.
When he tilted his head back, it was confirmed that he was maybe eighteen, or nineteen, possibly twenty. His messy and most likely unwashed dark brown hair was stuffed under a hat, or a head warmer of some kind. The pants and shirt were brown and dark blue respectively, and his boots were well worn. His hands were gloveless and were calloused to indicate that he’d worked for most of his life. “Are you alright? Do you need help getting up?” he asked this time, brown eyes watching him closely.
Vittorio grunted rather than answer, but it was mostly because he was in so much pain that he didn’t dare open his mouth in case another embarrassing sound escaped. So, he gritted his teeth and slowly started to get to his feet. Besides, he didn’t know this person, and thus didn’t trust him. Vittorio doubted there was anyone he trusted anymore.
The youth frowned as he looked around for his shirt, since he’d only been wearing his trousers, but that probably had to do with the bandages wrapped around his torso. That meant they’d removed the knife and then treated his wound, so perhaps they weren’t involved with Carlo. However, he was no fool and finding out their motives was the first thing he planned on asking. Also, he wanted to leave now that he was awake, but the unbearable throb that had started when he had fallen had grown stronger. Vittorio closed his eye in an effort to try and bear the pain, but instead of darkness he could only see the sunlight burning red hot through his left eyelid.
“Are you alright?” the young man asked, and it felt like he was hearing the words from underwater. Vittorio’s vision was getting blurrier the longer he stayed on his feet, and he was so tired. However, he refused to lie back down and close his eyes, and entrust his life into the hands of complete strangers. “The doctor said you should rest.” Vittorio hadn’t realized that he’d managed to get so close to him until he felt his hand at his elbow, trying to steer him away like some damned woman.
Vittorio growled in annoyance and jerked his arm away, but it was a mistake as his head spun and the world lurch sideways. The young man shouted as he lunged forward and caught the boy as he collapsed. He sighed as he lifted the unconscious youth into his arms and moved back to the bed before laying him down. “Stubborn ragazzo,” he hissed, making sure to set him on his stomach. When he was sure his limbs were angled right, he leaned down to pull back the bandages to make sure the stitches hadn’t come out, and he sighed in relief when he saw that they were intact.
The man glanced at the doorway as he heard a creak and frowned. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from here, fratellino?” There was no answer as his lips twisted in displeasure. “Elio,” he called in warning. After a heartbeat, a small figure came into view at the doorway and was wearing similar clothing in how worn and raggedly they were. He also had the same dark brown hair as him, but his eyes were a brilliant blue which he’d inherited from his mother. “I told you to stay away from here.”
Elio sulked by the open door as he scuffed his boot against the ground. “Mi dispiace, Alejandro, but Aldo said the one you saved was La Volpe’s son, which is the reason he needs to be protected. So, I wanted to see the piccoli Volpe.”
Alejandro cursed the seventeen year old thief for putting ridiculous ideas into his younger brother’s head. If the adolescent didn’t have such a protective older brother, then he would teach the arrogant little fool a lesson. “He is not La Volpe’s son,” he corrected. He straightened from where he’d been inspecting Vittorio’s stitches. “He is just a young boy we saved after we found him injured on the streets.” The other looked disappointed, but he nodded his head. Alejandro knew that the boy had been excited to see at least someone that was related to the infamous thief, since he had never seen the man himself.
The obsession for meeting or catching a glimpse of the thief had come from the story of his birth. Elio’s mother had gone to market despite being almost eight months pregnant, and had been harassed by some guards for supposedly stealing something. The stress had caused her to go into premature labor, and La Volpe had swooped in, killing the guards and rushing the woman to a nearby doctor. His father had been eternally grateful and sworn to serve the thief until his dying breath. When La Volpe had left Firenze and relocated to Roma, the man had moved his whole family there as well. Alejandro had met him and understood why his father was loyal to him. When Elio had heard the story a few months ago, he had wanted to meet the man but these were difficult times and it was no time to ask La Volpe to abandon his duties just to meet the ten year old.
Alejandro was about to say something when their father appeared in the doorway. “Are you both having a party in here?” he asked with amusement. Mario Petaccia was a tall, broad-shouldered man that didn’t seem capable of being able to be an effective thief. However, the man was light on his feet and could disappear in the blink of an eye from anyone that was pursuing him for whatever reason. He was six feet tall with salt and pepper hair and mustache, and he had large hands that had wiped away their tears and comforted them when they’d been children. It was those same hands that they’d soon learned could also knock a man out with a single punch, and steal your money pouch and you wouldn’t even notice until he was already several streets away.
“No, I was simply telling Elio that Aldo was merely having some fun at his expense, and that the ragazzo isn’t related to La Volpe in anyway.” Mario sighed as he glanced at the young boy, who crossed his arms over his chest with a petulant pout. The man simply reached over and ruffled Elio’s hair as the boy groaned in annoyance at being treated like a child before fleeing the room. “Why does my fratellino have to learn from Aldo? I can teach him what he needs to know! Che stolto! If his brother wasn’t so overprotective, then I’d teach him a lesson!”
Mario had moved further into the room to check on Vittorio and chuckled at the young man’s ranting. “He reminds me of someone I know,” he joked. He turned to face his oldest son and saw a look of confusion on his face, and it only increased his amusement that the other didn’t realize how much of a doting older brother he was. “You have other things you have to do, and don’t have time to be playing nanny to your brother. That’s what the novice thieves are for.”
Alejandro huffed in annoyance as he pulled off his hat, pushed a hand through his hair, and then shoved it back on his head. “So, I can’t take care of my brother, but I have to take care of this raggazzo?” he asked irritably.
The older man shook his head. “No, there’s something else that I need you to do.”
He glanced at unconscious fourteen year old boy. “Then who will look after him?” The young man’s father was about to respond but Elio crashed through the door.
“Father, there’s a lot of guards down the block!” he gasped, clearly having ran here from where he had been before spotting the guards.
Neither man hesitated as they ran outside. “Stay with the brat!” Mario shouted at his youngest before they disappeared from sight. Elio looked at Vittorio’s motionless body and hurried over as he grabbed a shirt and started to put it on the other. He’d just managed to get his shirt on him when the two men returned. “Elio, help me!” The young man and the boy sat Vittorio up and then draped him over Alejandro’s back while Mario kept watch at the door.
“Hurry!” he hissed at them urgently. Elio was scared but he knew enough not to ask what was happening, and only to obey what his father and older brother were telling him. When Alejandro had a firm hold on the fourteen year old, he moved to the door but paused as Mario held out his hand while looking around the corner of the door. As he flicked his hand forward, he was a blur of motion as he ran silently out the door and Alejandro and Elio weren’t too far behind him. They were several streets away before the soldiers entered the abandoned hideout, but all they found were a few blood-stained bandages.
~o~
Elio collapsed on the bed several hours later as dawn approached, and didn’t want to think about moving for the rest of the day. An exhausted Alejandro deposited Vittorio a bit unceremoniously on an adjacent bed, and the youth groaned in pain but didn’t wake. The young man looked guilty about his rough treatment of Vittorio and quickly rearranged his limbs into a more comfortable position. He draped a blanket over him before affectionately ruffling his hair as he’d done countless times to Elio. The ten year old tried not to feel too jealous because Alejandro was his brother. However, as he glanced at Vittorio’s pale face and the bandages that covered it which had started to become stained with blood, he let it go. The older boy was suffering and if they didn’t care for him, then nobody would.
“Get some sleep, rospo,” Alejandro teased as he also ruffled his hair after snatching his hat from his head. Elio wrinkled his nose in annoyance at the nickname, swatting at his hand when he tried to attack his already tousled hair once more. “I’ll wake you later today to start your lessons.” His little brother whined like a spoiled brat, and he chuckled in amusement. “I’ll be teaching you for the next few days until we can find another novice thief to show you.”
Elio cheered happily at this news as his loud voice caused Vittorio to flinch in his sleep, and Alejandro quickly shushed him. “Mi dispiace,” he apologized remorsefully. He pouted when Alejandro lightly flicked his forehead as punishment as he rubbed it dejectedly.
Alejandro smirked and brought their foreheads together. “Go to sleep fratellino.” The young boy obeyed and he waited until he was under his own covers before leaving the room. Mario was waiting for him outside, drinking from a water canteen to which he offered his oldest son when he was done. Alejandro took it with a word of thanks and drank heavily from it. “Were they looking for someone specifically?” he asked his father.
“I couldn’t tell you, but La Volpe wants to be sure.” He leveled him with a sideways glance. “How are you feeling? Do you think you can do a quick information gathering mission?” Alejandro was actually pretty tired since he had to carry Vittorio most of the night while avoiding patrols to get to this safe house in Antico district. However, this had to be serious if La Volpe himself had asked. The man had probably been speaking to Mario while Alejandro had put the boys to bed, and left before he’d come out. La Volpe was very particular on whom he spoke to and Alejandro wasn’t privy to that trust yet, and probably never would be.
“I’ll go, but what about Elio and the monello?” he asked, Mario smirking at the moniker he gave the fourteen year old.
Mario glanced inside of the room where he could now hear Elio snoring softly. “I doubt either of them will wake anytime soon, and I’ll watch over them until you return.” He turned back to his son as his eyes hardened. “I don’t want you to take any risks. If you’re spotted, then you flee and get back here after you are sure you aren’t being followed.”
Alejandro nodded seriously at his father’s words, taking another long pull of the water. “I understand, padre,” he said, handing the water canteen back. “I’ll take Paolo with me.” He had already planned to meet to pick-pocket a few rich nobles in Centro before they’d had to flee the night before, so he needed to go inform them they were alright. Although, he was sure someone had already passed the news along, but they’d been friends a long time and he owed him the courtesy of showing his face.
When his father didn’t object, he grinned and the older man brought their foreheads together much in the same way he’d done with Elio. “Be safe,” he murmured. It was something their mother had done with each of the members of their family when they parted ways for whatever reason, and even after her death a year ago, they still did it in her memory. Alejandro nodded before he darted away and out of sight around the corner.
~o~
Vittorio woke up in a different place a day later, but not that he realized it at first since it looked about the same. The only reason he knew was that the door was in a different place, and now there was only a single window. This is the reason he woke up, since the heat of the summer day had not allowed him to sleep. At first he thought he was alone, but that was soon proven wrong as he heard a snore from the bed adjacent to his. Vittorio had thought it was just a blanket bunched up on the bed, but then it was kicked off with a whine to reveal a younger boy in it. Clearly, he had gotten too hot and thus he had kicked off the blanket in his sleep.
The fourteen-year-old sat up slowly, mindful of his back injury, and then stood on unsteady feet. His trek to the door was painfully slow, and once he’d gotten there he pushed open the door so that fresh air could enter. Vittorio frowned as the door hit something with a resounding thwack. “Cazzo!” someone cursed, pushing the door back a bit. “Who’s the figlio di puttana that hit me with the door?”
He arched a brow as the young man from the other day came around the door, pausing as he caught sight of Vittorio. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” was his immediately reply, aggravating Vittorio.
“It’s hot,” he snapped, as if the sweat running down his face wasn’t proof enough. He turned away and moved back to the bed at the same pace as before. Vittorio was glad when the other didn’t help him, since the adolescent hated being treated like a child. “So, where am I? This isn’t the same place as before.”
Alejandro rubbed at the knot that was forming on his forehead where the door had hit him, and he was watching Vittorio to make sure he didn’t fall again. The youth was a prideful creature, but from the clothes he had on it was obvious that he had come from a wealthy family. “Si, this place is located near a better market than the other one,” he lied, avoiding in telling him where they were. It wasn’t like he could walk out of there, and certainly not very far.
Vittorio glanced at him with narrowed eyes as he sat on the bed, trying not to show how much pain he was. “You didn’t answer my question,” he accused.
“No, I didn’t,” he readily agreed. Alejandro turned away to leave the room, but left the door open. “I’ll go fetch the doctor so he can give you something for the pain.” Vittorio cursed the man as he went, and his gaze snapped toward the other bed to see that the other was awake. The younger boy was looking at him curiously, and Vittorio was just annoyed. He really needed to get out of there.
~o~
Vittorio’s first outing from the dilapidated place they obviously called home was several days later, and against the smaller male’s advice. It had annoyed Vittorio that this boy that was at least five years younger than him, dared to try and tell him what to do. When he had left the house he had of course experienced some discomfort in his wound, but had stubbornly continued on. When the discomfort had turned into pain after several unsteady steps, it was too late to turn back, or rather, he was too proud to go back. However, when he couldn’t go on any longer and the pain had turned into white hot agony, he regretted not listening to Elio. It was Elio’s older brother, Alejandro that found and carried him back to bed like some damn damsel.
When their father looked over the wound, he told Vittorio that luckily his stitches hadn’t come out. Then he’d smacked him upside the head and called him an idiot. Vittorio had been mostly stunned, since the hit itself hadn’t hurt, and the chastising he received had left him a bit startled. There hadn’t been anyone since before his mother had gotten sick that had reprimanded him. Afterwards, his father had let him do as he pleased as long as he didn’t cause him any trouble. So, most of his childhood was spent being waited on hand and foot by the servants, and receiving anything he wanted as long as he kept up with his studies. It wasn’t too difficult a task, since he had always been smarter than most boys his age. Vittorio had truly lived a privileged life, but that was all gone now. They were all gone.
“Alright,” he snapped, cutting the man off mid-sentence. “I don’t need your lectures old man, and I’m not some child!” Vittorio didn’t want to seem ungrateful of the help they had given him, but he didn’t need this man trying to act like his father. His father was dead. Also, he needed to get out of there as soon as his injury would allow, or Carlo was likely to find and kill him and anyone that had helped him. If they helped him, he could reach Venezia, since his father had other properties there as well as Firenze.
Instead of being offended, the man simply chuckled before flicking him against the forehead as the youth hissed in pain. “Your petulance shows that you’re nothing more than a child, and spoiled as well.” Vittorio bristled up like an angry cat, but the older man cut off anything he may have said. “Now, listen carefully, brat. You will remain in this bed until the dottore deems you able to move around. Is that understood?”
Vittorio’s mouth twisted in distaste, but another smack forced him to agree. “I’ll stay in the maledetto bed!” he shouted, getting hit again for cursing. The man gave him a snarky smirk and roughly ruffled his hair. The fourteen year old tried not to pout like the child he was accused of being. Instead, he was going to concentrate on getting better, and if he had to try walking when he was alone, nobody had to know.
He lifted a careful hand to the bandages that covered most of his face as well as his left eye. Vittorio remembered that it hadn’t been damaged by Carlo’s sword, so it was likely covered because the cut had been dangerously close to the eye. His face was still a strong throb of pain, and when he moved too quickly or tried to walk his back wound caused him agony.
Vittorio was distracted from trying to peel away the bandages so he could see out of his left eye, and glanced at the ten year old as he shifted in the doorway. The daylight was quickly fading, and soon it would be night. “Is this your house?” he asked Elio, making him jump in surprise since it was the first time he’d spoken directly to him in five days. “What’s your name?”
Elio licked his dry lips and glanced nervously over his shoulder. “I’m Elio Petaccia, and this is just a hideout. We don’t really have a home.” He bit his upper lip and looked like he may have said too much. Vittorio could really care less about his life story, and didn’t want to know these people. He only wanted to get Elio to tell him where he was, since Alejandro had refused to tell him.
“I don’t care about that! Just tell me where it’s located,” he snapped irritably. The boy cringed a bit and Vittorio momentarily experienced guilt before he quickly brushed it off. If he was offended then it wasn’t really Vittorio’s concern. He was younger than him, and his father had him as practically a prisoner. “Well? I haven’t got all day!”
Elio looked down at his scruffy boots self-consciously. “We’re in a hide-out in the Antico district.” Alio reached up to scratch his head and it was Vittorio’s turn to cringe. He hoped the boy didn’t have lice, and he really hoped he didn’t infest Vittorio. Although, judging by the tingling he felt along his scalp, he may already be too late to prevent it, or it could be goosebumps.
He was interrupted out of his horror of having to shave his head as Elio’s words registered in his mind. “Antico?” he asked incredulously. “How long was I unconscious?” Vittorio knew he’d passed out that first time he had woken up, but how long had it been before that?
When it became apparent that neither his brother nor father was going to come back and chastise him for disturbing Vittorio, he shuffled further into the room. Elio had never been around anyone close to his age before and usually was stuck with Aldo, since he was training Elio but he was seventeen. Alejandro was already twenty and spent most of his time doing “missions” with his father or with other thieves. So, he wanted to know everything there was to know about the older boy, and especially how he’d gotten so injured.
“Well, the first time you were unconscious for a week and a half, and then two days,” he informed him, taking a seat in the rickety chair by the bed which groaned in protest. “We were in a hide-out in Centro when Alejandro found you. The dottore bandaged you up and said that all we could do was wait to see if you made it through the night.” He grinned at him. “And you did.”
Vittorio rolled his eyes at the younger child, but glanced at him when he hesitated. Elio cast another furtive glance toward the door, and the window that had been left open to let the breeze in. “Then the soldiers came,” he said, lowering his voice until it was only a whisper. Vittorio had to lean in a bit closer to hear what Elio was saying. “They started searching the houses looking for someone.” Vittorio’s breath hitched in his throat. “We had to flee, and there was no choice but to put you on my fratello’s back and run.”
Elio shrugged as he leaned back in the chair and it creaked again at the shift. “Papa said they were looking for the son of some aristocrat or something that was being accused of treason against the church. I overhead Alejandro and father speaking about it, and I think they said his name was Vittorio or something.”
The fourteen year old felt as if the very air had frozen in his lungs. Those men had been looking for him! The only thing he could think about it was that Carlo hadn’t been lying. However, it could also just mean that it was a one big conspiracy, but it just seemed so unlikely. This left him with a lot to think about as he stared down at his hands. He would never be able to return to his childhood home, since they’d surely be waiting for him. Also, he couldn’t let these people know his real name, because even if they had helped him, he didn’t trust them. Vittorio doubted there was anyone left alive that he trusted, and the thought was just a little bit lonely.
“Are you feeling ill?” Elio’s voice cut into his awareness and Vittorio realized that he’d been staring at his trembling hands for several long seconds. “You look very pale. I should call my papa.” The ten year old stood, but Vittorio’s hand shot out to stop Elio before he could walk off. He warily glanced at the boy, but seemed to understand him as he sat back down.
It was in that moment that the chair gave one last cry of dismay and broke underneath him, so chair pieces and Elio wound up on the floor. The situation was so ridiculously out of place that it caused a half-crazed laugh to escape him. Elio face turned beet red and that sent him into hysterics as he laughed and laughed so hard that his wound pained him. Vittorio was feeling partially hysterical and helpless while at these people’s mercy, and he couldn’t get himself to stop laughing. He could only continue to reassure himself that everything would be alright, and even went so far as to believe himself. After all, deep-seeded denial ran in his family.
“Iso,” he murmured when Elio inquired about his name. It was almost easy to let that name slip through his lips after so many years, because for a long time he had thought he was Isotta. “My name is Iso.” If Elio found it strange that he had given a girl’s name, he said nothing on the matter and continued to ask him questions. When he asked about his injuries Vittrio lied once again, and he said that his family was from Firenze and had come to visit a relative. They’d been ambushed by bandits, his parents killed, and Iiso had barely escaped with his life. The younger boy hung onto every word he said. Vittorio had never had siblings, Isotta dying when he’d been too young to remember, but he imagined it was something like that. It was something he could get used to, and the affection he felt for the boy scared the hell out of him.
This caused him to lash out as he cut the younger boy off as he’d been describing a legend among the thieves of a hooded man with violet eyes that grown men spoke of in whispered conversation. La Volpe. Frankly, Vittorio was fed up with legends and myths. He needed something real to believe in and give him hope, or maybe he needed to learn to believe in himself.
“Don’t be absurd,” he snapped. “Men like that are just myths! Just like the diavolo swordsman from Firenze. They don’t exist!”
Elio seemed to take great offence by his words this time as he puffed up like a bullfrog. “He does exist! Papa works for him! He saved my mama and me! He-”
“Is just a story! He’s not real.” Vittorio turned away as the anger drained out of him to be replaced by sorrow. “In the end, you realize that they’re just bedtime stories parents tell to babies, but one has to grow up. We all do...”
“You shouldn’t tear down someone else’s beliefs just because another destroyed yours.” Vittorio’s head snapped around to stare at Alejandro, who had come in without making a noise. He had his right elbow propped on Elio’s shoulder while in his left hand there was a bowl of something that might have been food. Alejandro jerked his head toward the exit as he straightened, and after one last glance at Vittorio Elio hurried out the door.
Once they were alone, the young man moved toward him and calmly set the bowl down on the small table beside the bed. “I saved your life, so that puts you in my debt until you save mine. Whether you repay that debt or I die first, you will accept and be grateful for what you are given until that time has come to pass.” He turned his back on him as he moved to the door, but paused in the doorway. “Don’t put those thoughts into my fratellino’s head, Iso,” he sneered on the last word. Vittorio wondered how long the man had been listening to the conversation, and if his tone suggested that he didn’t believe that it was his name.
Alejandro walked out and closed the door, and ten minutes as he was eating the lukewarm food, the sun finally set as the room was slowly plunged into darkness. Vittorio had never been afraid of the dark, but being alone in the dark, cold room during a moonless night was too much for him. He stood even with the pain between his shoulder blades, and hobbled his way over to where he was fairly sure was the door. Vittorio cursed as he stubbed his toe on the small table and the bowl fell and broke, and gasped as he tripped over the pieces of the broken chair. Finally, he found the door after groping around and pushed it open. There was a torch two houses down and Vittorio wasn’t sure he would make it before he succumbed to the pain. However, he didn’t really have a choice and he grabbed the unlit torch and prepared to make the effort to reach it.
His torch suddenly came to life with fire and he jumped in fright, and turned to the left to see Alejandro, carrying the lit torch which he’d obviously used to light his. Alejandro then stared at him so long that Vittorio became self-conscious, but refrained from reaching up to fuss with the bandages on his face. His left eye was still covered, which is the reason he hadn’t seen the young man walk up on him, and realized how much of a handicap it was in his current situation. “Get back in bed before you fall again.” He saw Vittorio swell up indignantly, and cut off his rant before it could get started. “I won’t carry you back this time. Not that I didn’t enjoy carrying the princess back. ” He smirked as Vittorio bristled angrily. “But you really don’t want to spend the night on the cold, dirty ground, do you?” Alejandro chuckled as Vittorio’s mouth snapped shut even as his lips twisted in anger. He turned and walked off, throwing a jaunty wave over his shoulder.
Vittorio was left fuming in the doorway until the pain made his knees wobbly, and he set the torch in the metal grate by the door before closing it. He barely made it to the bed when his legs gave way under him, and crawled under the covers with a pained whimper he was glad nobody heard.
After that, sleep quickly whisked him away into a troubled sleep. So, he was unaware as the door opened an hour later, and someone sat at the head of his bed. The only sound to be heard for a while was Vittorio’s labored breathing, and then the door opened again.
“Alejandro?” The young man’s gaze moved to the doorway where his father stood. “How is he?” he inquired as he closed the door and moved further into the room.
Alejandro looked down at Vittorio’s pale, sweaty face as he thrashed while he dreamed. He leaned down to whisper something in the boy’s ear as his fingers pushed back the damp strands of his brown hair. “He is bitter and filled with despair,” he murmured as he looked down at his slumbering features. Whatever he had said to him, it had calmed Vittorio down.
The older thief sighed with a nod as he leaned back against the wall. “It would be difficult for any child not to be after everything he’s been through,” he stated, watching his oldest run his hand tenderly through Vittorio’s hair. He knew Alejandro would see Elio in Vittorio and feel just as protective, since they weren’t that far apart in age. However, it would do him no good to get attached, for either of his sons. “He will want to leave once he’s healed,” he warned, seeing as Alejandro paused in his caress of the boy’s hair.
“I know that,” he said with an unhappy scowl. Mario knew that he wouldn’t keep quiet about what he thought of the idea. “Where will he go? They’ll find him, and that sadistic, figlio di puttana will get his hands on him.”
Mario gave a bone weary sigh as he rubbed a hand down over his face. “The ragazzo is proud and hard-headed. We can’t stop him no more than can catch a gust of wind.” He glanced at the aforementioned boy and saw that he’d curled his body to where he sensed Alejandro’s body heat. Mario saw a damaged child in need of affection and protection not only from others, but himself as well. “Let Elio try and perhaps he can reach him where we can’t.”
Alejandro frowned as he glanced at Vittorio uncertainly. The young man had seen the extent of his bitterness, and knew that his cynical attitude may affect Elio. However, it was the same way when one saved an injured bird, and you couldn’t help but get attached. “Fine, but I’ll keep an eye on them.” He gave the youth one more affectionate ruffle of Vittorio’s hair before he stood. “Is there any news?”
Mario’s face darkened immediately and this worried Alejandro. “We have a name now. La Volpe tracked one of the banditi down, and we were able to ambush their hideout. They call themselves the Cento Occhi.”
“A Hundred Eyes?” he asked incredulously as his old man nodded.
“It’s probably because of their vast numbers that grow every day.” Here his mouth tightened in an anger Alejandro hadn’t seen in a long time. “They don’t just stick to thieving, but they also murder, rape and are involved in the slave trade. There have been reports of men, women and even children being taken.”
Alejandro was filled with the same anger as his father at the last part, since he imagined his brother being taken by those heartless scums. “We can’t let them keep doing this to our people,” he growled.
The other nodded in agreement as he opened the door. “La Volpe wants us to find where they’re basing the slave trade in Antico, and if possible stop them. He knows we are not actual members of the Order, but he is and we owe him our allegiance.”
Alejandro rubbed a hand down the nape of his neck. “Si, but first we need to track down one of the main slavers, and without that information we won’t know where to start.”
“We have a name. It’s one of the reasons La Volpe had us searching for the boy. He knew that Rodrigo Borgia had the Sabelli household in his sights, so it would only be a matter of time before he sent someone for them. It’s just a shame that we didn’t get there in time to save anyone besides the boy.” Mario passed the door as his son followed. “Carlo Barbarigo is the instructor’s name, and he’s deeply involved with the slavers. He was planted in the Sabelli home as a spy for the Spaniard, and was simply waiting for the order to strike.” He paused as he glanced at the younger male. “From here we have to be careful of any move we make, or we’ll lead him right to the boy and everything will be for naught.”
Alejandro nodded as he closed the door. “Is that my mission then, to protect Vittorio?” Mario’s answer was cut off as the door snapped shut and both men walked further away, but Vittorio didn’t need to hear anymore. A hand ruffling his hair had brought him out of sleep and the first words of the conversation he’d overhead had been the reason he had faked still being asleep. The revelation that not only did they know exactly who he was, but that they were protecting him had shaken him, and didn’t know what to think. It was a shame that they hadn’t been able to save kind and gentle Giovanna, or to stop his parents’ tragic end, but they had found and saved Vittorio.
This meant that he could trust them to protect him and his identity while he recovered. The only thing that continued to nag him was their reasons for doing it, and what they wanted from him. He wondered what they got out of it. It was that lack of knowledge that kept him from completely trusting the two men.
~o~
It was two weeks later that he was able to finally leave the bed for short periods of time without feeling pain, and he was allowed to walk around outside as long as he didn’t strain himself. Whenever he’d venture outside Elio followed at his heels, and he couldn’t go anywhere without the younger boy at his side. He was like a loyal dog, and Vittorio was sure that if he had a tail it’d be happily wagging behind him whenever he got excited.
Vittorio snickered at the mental image of Elio as an energetic puppy, and the other gave him a curious glance. He just waved Elio off without saying a word for fear of bursting out laughing. Instead, he motioned for them to keep going to the nearby market. Vittorio had convinced Mario that he was well enough to go and come back, and if he made it then it’d be the longest he’d walked since his injury. So far, besides a few sporadic twinges of pain he was doing fine, but would sit down somewhere if he needed to. Frankly, Vittorio didn’t want to further injure himself, and be completely healed so he could go where he wanted, whenever he wanted.
It was ten minutes later that found him sitting on the stump of a broken marble column, and he waited for Elio to return from the stand a few feet away. His upper back had started hurting and had told the younger boy to go on ahead and he’d wait there. Vittorio could see the stand from where he was sitting, but there were so many people at this time of day that they were blocking his line of vision. One minute he saw Elio with a bag of apples, oranges, and bread, and then the crowd got too thick for Vittorio to see. When he was finally able to glimpse the fruit stand, Elio was nowhere to be seen.
The fourteen year old felt dread seize his heart as he stood and hurried over despite the pain, but all he found was the abandoned sack. He frantically looked around but there was no sign of him, and Vittorio didn’t know what he was going to do. Alejandro had been shadowing their every move for the past two weeks, but Mario and the young man had been urgently called to a meeting with La Volpe. Vittorio had gotten a glimpse of the man with Elio trying to look around him, and he had finally believed his ridiculous myth. That’s the only reason they had gotten away with going to the market by themselves, since it was close to their hideout and didn’t seem as if a pair of kids would be harassed by the guards. After all, Vittorio certainly didn’t look like the son of an aristocrat anymore.
He saw the spotter at the same time that the man saw him, and Vittorio’s first instinct was to run. Vittorio wasn’t trained as Alejandro or Mario, and was completely out of his element now. He didn’t know what to do when the man started walking in his direction, and the thing that kept him from fleeing was Elio and that he could be in danger. The teenager had eavesdropped on several of Mario and Alejandro’s conversations, and had heard quite a bit on this Centro Occhi gang, the slavers and how they worked. So, he knew that this man was a spotter for the slavers and if that were so then not only Elio, but he was also in danger. They preyed on the weak and right now, he looked like the main course.
The smile the man gave Vittorio was sharp and dangerous, but he feigned ignorance and smiled right back. “I noticed you appear lost. Are you looking for someone?” If he said he was looking for Elio then he may grow suspicious because they didn’t look alike enough to be brothers, so he lied through his teeth.
“Si,” he answered, playing up his injury with a wince and a hand to his face. The slavers would not care if his face was scarred, and only if both his eyes were good. It was fortunate that his left eye had already been uncovered and only had a simple dressing on his face now. Also, he couldn’t let on that he was bodily injured of he’d lose interest. After all, nobody wanted a cripple for a slave. “I was with my mother but lost sight of her.” He hesitated as he looked at the man with wary eyes. “Did you see her, perhaps? She has brown curly hair and caramel eyes, and she’s wearing a blue dress.”
The man had been studying him as he’d spoken, and Vittorio had kept standing still and straight despite a persistent throb that had started at the small of his back. When he was given that smile again, he knew he’d passed his scrutiny. “I think I saw a woman that could have been your mother. She did seem to be looking for someone. I can show you where she is if you want.”
He may have nodded a bit too eagerly, but either the man hadn’t thought anything of it or figured it was his enthusiasm to find his ‘mother’. The youth followed after him and tried to walk normally as the throb that had started to get uncomfortable, and tried to think of a course of action. So far, Vittorio was just winging it, but didn’t know how long that would work.
Almost as soon as they had left the main road, he was surrounded by two more men, and figured that perhaps he hadn’t thought this through. “What’s going on?” he asked, and he didn’t have to fake the tremor in his voice. Vittorio was scared, but it was too late to run now. Besides, he was sure that these men had taken Elio, and as they seized his arms and threw a sack over his head, he prayed that he wasn’t wrong.
~o~
Vittorio bit back a sob as he was flung none too gently into the cage, and curled into the fetal position as the door was slammed shut and the men walked off. It was surely high noon right now, but as he pulled the sack from on top of his head he noticed that they were somewhere dark and damp. If he listened carefully he could hear the dripping of water nearby. Vittorio wasn’t sure where they had taken him since they’d pulled the sack over his head, but he was sure it was the same one Elio had dropped and that Vittorio had picked up. He’d heard them eating the food as they’d dragged his protesting body off. Bastardi.
He finally uncurled when the pain had lessened and slowly sat up as he looked around the dim room. There was a torch at his back so he had some light and thus saw several small figures huddled in the corner. “Elio?” he called uncertainly. He heard a gasp as he squinted in an effort to see through the gloom. Vittorio saw one of the figures in the corner stand and rush over to him. It was too late to remind him of his injury as Elio tackled him and Vittorio tumbled back with the younger boy on top. He clenched his jaw so hard that he threatened to chip a tooth as agony shot along his nerve endings. Vittorio opened his mouth to snap at the ten year old until he realized that Elio was sobbing into Vittorio’s shoulder. A shaky sigh left his mouth as he patted the other on the back of his head.
When he’d finally calmed Elio down did he learn that he’d been grabbed as he was moving to another stand and passing by an alley way. It was infuriating to know that no one had even noticed the boy being taken by those men, and if Vittorio hadn’t noticed the spotter than they wouldn’t have ever known what had become of the boy.
Vittorio’s eyes snapped to the other figures that approached and his arm tightened protectively around Elio. “It’s okay Vitto,” he reassured the older boy. “Come on.” He beckoned them forward and Vittorio was suddenly being smothered by a dozen small bodies. They were all children younger than Elio himself, and the youngest being a boy of about twelve months that could barely walk. Elio hugged the little tyke close to his body as he gave Vittorio a helpless look. “We have to save them, Vittorio. I heard them talking. They’re going to sell them as slaves.”
Vittorio had grown to care about the ten year old in the time he had been recovering and even told him his real name. Hell, he’d let himself be caught by slavers to try and save him, but he wasn’t sure he could rescue them all. However, how could he say that when they were looking at him with those doe eyes, because despite of his bitterness, he wasn’t heartless. “All right,” he sighed. He reached into his boot and pulled out a thin stiletto blade. The thing about appearing weak was that nobody saw you as a threat, and it’s the reason the slavers hasn’t searched him for weapons. Vittorio would make sure they regretted their mistake.
The lock itself was easy, since Elio had already started to train to lock pick and pickpocket. Actually, the lock was so old that one solid hit with the hilt of his stiletto would have broken it, but allowed Elio to feel like he’d helped them escape. Now, this is where it got tricky, since if it had only been Vittorio and Elio then they could have easily snuck out on their own. So, now he’d be forced to make some kind of diversion so Elio could get the kids out. The problem was thinking up a plan that didn’t end up with him getting captured.
They snuck to the door and looked through a crack in the wood. There were two guards stationed right outside, and it didn’t look as if they would be moving any time soon. As far as he could tell, it was an hour past noon and so it would be a long time before they changed shift, and he didn’t think the children could wait that long. They were already squirming and whimpering from hunger as Elio tried to shush them. So, he had to think of something and fast.
In the end, he went with a reckless plan as Elio pushed open the door as hard as he could, knocking one to the side and pinning him against the wall. While the other was startled by what happened, Vittorio quickly cut both of his Achilles tendons so he crumpled with a scream, and one on the ground Vittorio knocked him out with a heavy rock he’d found on the ground. He quickly spun around as the other guard used his heavier body mass to push back against the door as Elio fell back with a helpless cry. The man pulled his sword out and lifted it to murder the poor boy.
“No!” Vittorio screamed, lunging forward and forgot he had the stiletto blade in his hand. Vittorio crashed into the larger man, knocking him away from Elio as he tumbled backwards. The fourteen year old was shaking as he looked down at the guard that stared up at him in shock, and both of them looked down at the blade sticking out of his lower belly. The guard was panting heavily as his hand moved to try and pull it out, but he gave one last gasping breath before his hand fell away and he went still.
Vittorio was trembling as he stared at the dead man and every breath he took was a whimper that threatened to turn into full out sobbing. A tug on his pant leg interrupted his hysteria and saw that the toddler had waddled up to him, and was staring up at him with teary brown eyes. The sight of that frightened face was enough to calm him. These innocents needed him, so he couldn’t lose his head.
He took the baby’s small hand and moved toward Elio who had once more been surrounded by the children as if reassuring themselves that the older boy was unhurt. “Alright, I’m going outside and see where we’re at,” he told Elio, and despite the tears running down his cheeks, his voice was steady. “Stay with the bambinos, and take this.” He handed over another dagger that he had hidden in his other boot. Elio opened his mouth but Vittorio cut him off. “Protect the little ones.” When the other nodded and moved them back into the shadows, Vittorio turned back to the dead man and inhaled deeply, and then pulled out the blade with a sickening squelch. Vittorio heaved for a moment, but otherwise kept his dignity in tact as he then slowly moved outside so he could see where they’d taken them.
The adolescent didn’t recognize where they were but there were several crumbling buildings and walls, and the grass was overgrown in some parts. He crept along the wall and looked the corner, but didn’t see any other guards even when he went to the other side of the wall. However, when he climbed on top of the wall he had to quickly duck down as he finally saw them. They were patrolling around where some construction was going on, and from what he could already make out, it was going to be a tower.
Vittorio cursed as he jumped down from the wall as a patrol passed by, hiding behind part of the wall that jutted out, and when they’d gone he came out. He glanced up to where he had been on top of the wall, and saw a bit further that there was a small niche where he would be able to observe the patrol without being seen. After several times observing the path they took, he had their route down. Vittorio figured he’d wait until they were the farthest away from where they were, and they’d make a break for the path that led them down to the road. It was a perfect plan, and best of all, it didn’t end with him getting captured.
Elio and the children crowded by the door as they waited for Vittorio to give them the signal. They would be out of sight when the patrol went by, and he would hurry them along when the guards were at the farthest end of the compound. As the four men reached the desired point, he was about to give the signal but his caught sight of two figures. He held out his hand to stop Elio and watched them for a moment, and noticed it was two men walking in their general direction. From this distance he could tell that one of them was wearing Captain’s armor, and the other was in all black and he walked with a noticeable limp. When they were close enough to distinguish their faces, Vittorio felt a cold hand clench around his heart as terror filled his mind. It was Carlo.
Vittorio’s turned and his frantic eyes met Elio’s worried ones, and looked for a moment at all those cherubic faces. The irrational fear to flee and leave them to the slaver’s mercy left his mind. “You get them down that path,” he told Elio firmly. Elio’s eyes widened in fear at the finality he heard in his voice, but before he could say a word Vittorio was gone. He rounded the corner and ran alongside the wall until he was out of sight of the building that was their prison, but soon the patrol would round the corner and see him. Vittorio’s hands and legs were shaking, but he inhaled a deep breath anyways. “Carlo Barbarigo! I’m over here, figlio di puttana!” he shouted as loud as he could.
The patrol spotted him immediately and saw both Carlo and the Captain turn back around. Vittorio glanced behind the men and saw Elio hurrying the kids along toward the path, and when they disappeared down the path he turned and ran. All six individuals were chasing him and he was forced to turn sharply around a corner several times to evade hands that came close to grabbing him. The pain from his back injury had been pushed to back of his mind as pure adrenaline kept him going. ‘So much for not getting caught,’ Vittorio thought with a hysterical laugh as his blood pounded in his ears and his legs ached.
Vittorio didn’t know how long had passed when he finally stopped running, and was crouched in a corner between a column and the wall as he tried to catch his breath. Vittorio could hear the clank of their armor nearby, and knew it was only a matter of time before they found him. Perhaps using himself as bait hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had, but he hadn’t had time to think of anything else.
“Vittorioooo,” a voice called in a sing-song tone. Vittorio shuddered as he recognized Carlo’s voice and shrunk further into the shadow made by the column. He saw that the sun was nearing the western horizon, and knew he only had to stay hidden until then. It was cloudy and knew that a summer storm was approaching, so the moon and starlight wouldn’t be seen. That’s when he would leave his hiding place and try-
“So, this is where you’re hiding,” he heard above him. Vittorio tried to look up too quickly, but he was too close to the wall and the back of his skull hit the unmoving surface. He whimpered as he fell to the side and felt dazed from the hit. Carlo laughed as he jumped down to land where he’d been crouched moments before. “Don’t kill yourself until I’ve had a chance to test out my new knife.” He pulled a dagger from a sheath at his waist, and the fading sunlight glinted off its serrated blade.
Vittorio scrambled back as well as he could while still sitting on the ground, but Carlo only calmly followed him. “Do you see these teeth?” he asked, indicating them on the dagger. “When you stab someone it’ll be really hard to properly stitch the wound closed. Especially if you twist it as you bury it in deeply.” Vittorio felt his back meet the wall and helplessly stared up as Carlo came to stand over him. “But with you I’m going to take my time, and try to see how loud I can make you scream.”
Carlo reached out to grab him and Vittorio instinctively cringed in anticipation of the pain. However, the clank of armor interrupted the man and Vittorio dared to crack one eye open to see Carlo turned toward the darkening sky of the east. There was a light that was growing ever brighter as if dawn was coming again, and there was shouting as guards were running back and forth. A random guard ran up as Carlo demanded to know what was happening. “Someone set the construction site on fire, and Captain da Siena is looking for you.”
Carlo growled as he turned back to the trembling youth who looked to be trying to blend into the wall behind him. “Cazzo!” He turned to walk away, but paused as he looked at the guard. “Watch him, and if he escapes you’ll pay with your life.”
The other man straightened as he gave a sharp nod. “I won’t let him out of my sight!” he assured him. Carlo eyed him momentarily before huffing and striding off as he cursed the inept Prospero da Siena and his guards. When he’d disappeared from sight, the guard moved toward him and Vittorio flinched away when he came too close. “Calmarsi, it’s me,” he hissed. Vittorio gasped as he recognized Alejandro’s voice now that he was closer.
Alejandro didn’t give him a chance to say anything as he grabbed and dragged him off. He tried to keep up with him as best as he could, but the pain had come back with a vengeance now that the adrenaline had run out. So, Vittorio was little more than a rag doll and the older man had to practically carry him, but he didn’t even seem to feel his extra weight even wearing all that armor. When they came to the cliff, they heard yelling from where they’d just come from.
“I WILL FIND YOU, VITTORIO!”
The teen shuddered fearfully but Alejandro only ruffled his hair with a smirk. “Not if I can help it,” he reassured him. Then without so much as a warning, he tossed him off the cliff and Vittorio’s scream lodged in the back of his throat. A moment later he landed in a big pile of hay and several hands dragged him out so Alejandro could jump as well. As he lay panting on the ground where they’d laid him, Elio appeared on one side surrounded by all the children they’d saved, and Alejandro on the other with the clank of stolen armor he was still wearing. Both of them were saying something but he couldn’t hear over the pounding of his own heart, but as darkness swooped in to carry him into oblivion, he only knew one thing.
As long as these two brothers were still alive, he would stay with them, and learn from them. Now, they would be his new family.-
~o~
Che Stolto - that fool
rospo - toad; nasty person
monello - brat, urchin, scamp, rascal, romp, guttersnipe, scapegrace
diavolo - demon
banditi - bandits
Author: name-me-regret
AN: The Assassin’s Creed Wikia states that Silvestro Sabbatini lost his left arm because Cesare had Micheletto slice it off as punishment after failing in a mission involving a courtesan. I always thought it involved Fiora Cavazza in a way, but there’s no mention of it. However, I wanted to stay away from this particular character because I never did like him. So, lo and behold, this chapter was born. The title was left untranslated for a reason. Enjoy.
Chapter Eighteen: Tratta di Persone
1493
“Where did you find him?”
“He was lying on the ground in an alleyway, and we found him by accident. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
“Go fetch the doctor. He needs to live...”
Vittorio’s eyes fluttered open for a moment as he felt hands lifting him and moaned as he felt the knife get pulled out of his back. His eyesight was blurry so he couldn’t distinguish the people that surrounded him. “It’s alright, bambino,” a voice reassured him as a hand pushed back the sweaty strands of his hair. “You’re safe.” His eyes grew heavier and couldn’t stay conscious any longer, and he dreamed.
~o~
‘I came back just for you, Vittorio.’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘But I will never let you hurt my son again!’
‘I love you, Vittorio...’
~o~
A choking gasp signaled his return to consciousness as he lifted his head and realized he was lying face down on a cot in a stifling hot room as sweat dotted his forehead and face. Vittorio had no idea where he was, but he knew that the sweat covering his entire body had more to do with the nightmares that had plagued him. As he moved to look around the room, a slightly damp rag from the back of his head, and wondered if it was due to a fever he may have suffered.
Vittorio groggily looked around the room he was in with only his right eye since the other was covered by something, and saw sunlight streaming through the cracks in the shabby shutters and door. The youth had certainly been in far better places than this wretched room, but at the moment he was too tired and in too much pain to really care. He only cared about finding out where this place was, and if he was safe here. Vittorio didn’t think Carlo or someone associated with him had found him, or he would more than likely be dead by now.
The youth had just managed to stand on shaky legs without vomiting from the pain when the door opened, and it startled him so badly that he lost his balance and fell to the ground. He would never admit to the small sob that escaped his mouth as his wound was jarred, and he heaved with the abrupt change of position but managed to swallow the bile crawling up his esophagus. Vittorio flinched away from the hand that tried to help him to his feet. “Peace, ragazzo,” someone murmured, the voice of a young man.
When he tilted his head back, it was confirmed that he was maybe eighteen, or nineteen, possibly twenty. His messy and most likely unwashed dark brown hair was stuffed under a hat, or a head warmer of some kind. The pants and shirt were brown and dark blue respectively, and his boots were well worn. His hands were gloveless and were calloused to indicate that he’d worked for most of his life. “Are you alright? Do you need help getting up?” he asked this time, brown eyes watching him closely.
Vittorio grunted rather than answer, but it was mostly because he was in so much pain that he didn’t dare open his mouth in case another embarrassing sound escaped. So, he gritted his teeth and slowly started to get to his feet. Besides, he didn’t know this person, and thus didn’t trust him. Vittorio doubted there was anyone he trusted anymore.
The youth frowned as he looked around for his shirt, since he’d only been wearing his trousers, but that probably had to do with the bandages wrapped around his torso. That meant they’d removed the knife and then treated his wound, so perhaps they weren’t involved with Carlo. However, he was no fool and finding out their motives was the first thing he planned on asking. Also, he wanted to leave now that he was awake, but the unbearable throb that had started when he had fallen had grown stronger. Vittorio closed his eye in an effort to try and bear the pain, but instead of darkness he could only see the sunlight burning red hot through his left eyelid.
“Are you alright?” the young man asked, and it felt like he was hearing the words from underwater. Vittorio’s vision was getting blurrier the longer he stayed on his feet, and he was so tired. However, he refused to lie back down and close his eyes, and entrust his life into the hands of complete strangers. “The doctor said you should rest.” Vittorio hadn’t realized that he’d managed to get so close to him until he felt his hand at his elbow, trying to steer him away like some damned woman.
Vittorio growled in annoyance and jerked his arm away, but it was a mistake as his head spun and the world lurch sideways. The young man shouted as he lunged forward and caught the boy as he collapsed. He sighed as he lifted the unconscious youth into his arms and moved back to the bed before laying him down. “Stubborn ragazzo,” he hissed, making sure to set him on his stomach. When he was sure his limbs were angled right, he leaned down to pull back the bandages to make sure the stitches hadn’t come out, and he sighed in relief when he saw that they were intact.
The man glanced at the doorway as he heard a creak and frowned. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from here, fratellino?” There was no answer as his lips twisted in displeasure. “Elio,” he called in warning. After a heartbeat, a small figure came into view at the doorway and was wearing similar clothing in how worn and raggedly they were. He also had the same dark brown hair as him, but his eyes were a brilliant blue which he’d inherited from his mother. “I told you to stay away from here.”
Elio sulked by the open door as he scuffed his boot against the ground. “Mi dispiace, Alejandro, but Aldo said the one you saved was La Volpe’s son, which is the reason he needs to be protected. So, I wanted to see the piccoli Volpe.”
Alejandro cursed the seventeen year old thief for putting ridiculous ideas into his younger brother’s head. If the adolescent didn’t have such a protective older brother, then he would teach the arrogant little fool a lesson. “He is not La Volpe’s son,” he corrected. He straightened from where he’d been inspecting Vittorio’s stitches. “He is just a young boy we saved after we found him injured on the streets.” The other looked disappointed, but he nodded his head. Alejandro knew that the boy had been excited to see at least someone that was related to the infamous thief, since he had never seen the man himself.
The obsession for meeting or catching a glimpse of the thief had come from the story of his birth. Elio’s mother had gone to market despite being almost eight months pregnant, and had been harassed by some guards for supposedly stealing something. The stress had caused her to go into premature labor, and La Volpe had swooped in, killing the guards and rushing the woman to a nearby doctor. His father had been eternally grateful and sworn to serve the thief until his dying breath. When La Volpe had left Firenze and relocated to Roma, the man had moved his whole family there as well. Alejandro had met him and understood why his father was loyal to him. When Elio had heard the story a few months ago, he had wanted to meet the man but these were difficult times and it was no time to ask La Volpe to abandon his duties just to meet the ten year old.
Alejandro was about to say something when their father appeared in the doorway. “Are you both having a party in here?” he asked with amusement. Mario Petaccia was a tall, broad-shouldered man that didn’t seem capable of being able to be an effective thief. However, the man was light on his feet and could disappear in the blink of an eye from anyone that was pursuing him for whatever reason. He was six feet tall with salt and pepper hair and mustache, and he had large hands that had wiped away their tears and comforted them when they’d been children. It was those same hands that they’d soon learned could also knock a man out with a single punch, and steal your money pouch and you wouldn’t even notice until he was already several streets away.
“No, I was simply telling Elio that Aldo was merely having some fun at his expense, and that the ragazzo isn’t related to La Volpe in anyway.” Mario sighed as he glanced at the young boy, who crossed his arms over his chest with a petulant pout. The man simply reached over and ruffled Elio’s hair as the boy groaned in annoyance at being treated like a child before fleeing the room. “Why does my fratellino have to learn from Aldo? I can teach him what he needs to know! Che stolto! If his brother wasn’t so overprotective, then I’d teach him a lesson!”
Mario had moved further into the room to check on Vittorio and chuckled at the young man’s ranting. “He reminds me of someone I know,” he joked. He turned to face his oldest son and saw a look of confusion on his face, and it only increased his amusement that the other didn’t realize how much of a doting older brother he was. “You have other things you have to do, and don’t have time to be playing nanny to your brother. That’s what the novice thieves are for.”
Alejandro huffed in annoyance as he pulled off his hat, pushed a hand through his hair, and then shoved it back on his head. “So, I can’t take care of my brother, but I have to take care of this raggazzo?” he asked irritably.
The older man shook his head. “No, there’s something else that I need you to do.”
He glanced at unconscious fourteen year old boy. “Then who will look after him?” The young man’s father was about to respond but Elio crashed through the door.
“Father, there’s a lot of guards down the block!” he gasped, clearly having ran here from where he had been before spotting the guards.
Neither man hesitated as they ran outside. “Stay with the brat!” Mario shouted at his youngest before they disappeared from sight. Elio looked at Vittorio’s motionless body and hurried over as he grabbed a shirt and started to put it on the other. He’d just managed to get his shirt on him when the two men returned. “Elio, help me!” The young man and the boy sat Vittorio up and then draped him over Alejandro’s back while Mario kept watch at the door.
“Hurry!” he hissed at them urgently. Elio was scared but he knew enough not to ask what was happening, and only to obey what his father and older brother were telling him. When Alejandro had a firm hold on the fourteen year old, he moved to the door but paused as Mario held out his hand while looking around the corner of the door. As he flicked his hand forward, he was a blur of motion as he ran silently out the door and Alejandro and Elio weren’t too far behind him. They were several streets away before the soldiers entered the abandoned hideout, but all they found were a few blood-stained bandages.
~o~
Elio collapsed on the bed several hours later as dawn approached, and didn’t want to think about moving for the rest of the day. An exhausted Alejandro deposited Vittorio a bit unceremoniously on an adjacent bed, and the youth groaned in pain but didn’t wake. The young man looked guilty about his rough treatment of Vittorio and quickly rearranged his limbs into a more comfortable position. He draped a blanket over him before affectionately ruffling his hair as he’d done countless times to Elio. The ten year old tried not to feel too jealous because Alejandro was his brother. However, as he glanced at Vittorio’s pale face and the bandages that covered it which had started to become stained with blood, he let it go. The older boy was suffering and if they didn’t care for him, then nobody would.
“Get some sleep, rospo,” Alejandro teased as he also ruffled his hair after snatching his hat from his head. Elio wrinkled his nose in annoyance at the nickname, swatting at his hand when he tried to attack his already tousled hair once more. “I’ll wake you later today to start your lessons.” His little brother whined like a spoiled brat, and he chuckled in amusement. “I’ll be teaching you for the next few days until we can find another novice thief to show you.”
Elio cheered happily at this news as his loud voice caused Vittorio to flinch in his sleep, and Alejandro quickly shushed him. “Mi dispiace,” he apologized remorsefully. He pouted when Alejandro lightly flicked his forehead as punishment as he rubbed it dejectedly.
Alejandro smirked and brought their foreheads together. “Go to sleep fratellino.” The young boy obeyed and he waited until he was under his own covers before leaving the room. Mario was waiting for him outside, drinking from a water canteen to which he offered his oldest son when he was done. Alejandro took it with a word of thanks and drank heavily from it. “Were they looking for someone specifically?” he asked his father.
“I couldn’t tell you, but La Volpe wants to be sure.” He leveled him with a sideways glance. “How are you feeling? Do you think you can do a quick information gathering mission?” Alejandro was actually pretty tired since he had to carry Vittorio most of the night while avoiding patrols to get to this safe house in Antico district. However, this had to be serious if La Volpe himself had asked. The man had probably been speaking to Mario while Alejandro had put the boys to bed, and left before he’d come out. La Volpe was very particular on whom he spoke to and Alejandro wasn’t privy to that trust yet, and probably never would be.
“I’ll go, but what about Elio and the monello?” he asked, Mario smirking at the moniker he gave the fourteen year old.
Mario glanced inside of the room where he could now hear Elio snoring softly. “I doubt either of them will wake anytime soon, and I’ll watch over them until you return.” He turned back to his son as his eyes hardened. “I don’t want you to take any risks. If you’re spotted, then you flee and get back here after you are sure you aren’t being followed.”
Alejandro nodded seriously at his father’s words, taking another long pull of the water. “I understand, padre,” he said, handing the water canteen back. “I’ll take Paolo with me.” He had already planned to meet to pick-pocket a few rich nobles in Centro before they’d had to flee the night before, so he needed to go inform them they were alright. Although, he was sure someone had already passed the news along, but they’d been friends a long time and he owed him the courtesy of showing his face.
When his father didn’t object, he grinned and the older man brought their foreheads together much in the same way he’d done with Elio. “Be safe,” he murmured. It was something their mother had done with each of the members of their family when they parted ways for whatever reason, and even after her death a year ago, they still did it in her memory. Alejandro nodded before he darted away and out of sight around the corner.
~o~
Vittorio woke up in a different place a day later, but not that he realized it at first since it looked about the same. The only reason he knew was that the door was in a different place, and now there was only a single window. This is the reason he woke up, since the heat of the summer day had not allowed him to sleep. At first he thought he was alone, but that was soon proven wrong as he heard a snore from the bed adjacent to his. Vittorio had thought it was just a blanket bunched up on the bed, but then it was kicked off with a whine to reveal a younger boy in it. Clearly, he had gotten too hot and thus he had kicked off the blanket in his sleep.
The fourteen-year-old sat up slowly, mindful of his back injury, and then stood on unsteady feet. His trek to the door was painfully slow, and once he’d gotten there he pushed open the door so that fresh air could enter. Vittorio frowned as the door hit something with a resounding thwack. “Cazzo!” someone cursed, pushing the door back a bit. “Who’s the figlio di puttana that hit me with the door?”
He arched a brow as the young man from the other day came around the door, pausing as he caught sight of Vittorio. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” was his immediately reply, aggravating Vittorio.
“It’s hot,” he snapped, as if the sweat running down his face wasn’t proof enough. He turned away and moved back to the bed at the same pace as before. Vittorio was glad when the other didn’t help him, since the adolescent hated being treated like a child. “So, where am I? This isn’t the same place as before.”
Alejandro rubbed at the knot that was forming on his forehead where the door had hit him, and he was watching Vittorio to make sure he didn’t fall again. The youth was a prideful creature, but from the clothes he had on it was obvious that he had come from a wealthy family. “Si, this place is located near a better market than the other one,” he lied, avoiding in telling him where they were. It wasn’t like he could walk out of there, and certainly not very far.
Vittorio glanced at him with narrowed eyes as he sat on the bed, trying not to show how much pain he was. “You didn’t answer my question,” he accused.
“No, I didn’t,” he readily agreed. Alejandro turned away to leave the room, but left the door open. “I’ll go fetch the doctor so he can give you something for the pain.” Vittorio cursed the man as he went, and his gaze snapped toward the other bed to see that the other was awake. The younger boy was looking at him curiously, and Vittorio was just annoyed. He really needed to get out of there.
~o~
Vittorio’s first outing from the dilapidated place they obviously called home was several days later, and against the smaller male’s advice. It had annoyed Vittorio that this boy that was at least five years younger than him, dared to try and tell him what to do. When he had left the house he had of course experienced some discomfort in his wound, but had stubbornly continued on. When the discomfort had turned into pain after several unsteady steps, it was too late to turn back, or rather, he was too proud to go back. However, when he couldn’t go on any longer and the pain had turned into white hot agony, he regretted not listening to Elio. It was Elio’s older brother, Alejandro that found and carried him back to bed like some damn damsel.
When their father looked over the wound, he told Vittorio that luckily his stitches hadn’t come out. Then he’d smacked him upside the head and called him an idiot. Vittorio had been mostly stunned, since the hit itself hadn’t hurt, and the chastising he received had left him a bit startled. There hadn’t been anyone since before his mother had gotten sick that had reprimanded him. Afterwards, his father had let him do as he pleased as long as he didn’t cause him any trouble. So, most of his childhood was spent being waited on hand and foot by the servants, and receiving anything he wanted as long as he kept up with his studies. It wasn’t too difficult a task, since he had always been smarter than most boys his age. Vittorio had truly lived a privileged life, but that was all gone now. They were all gone.
“Alright,” he snapped, cutting the man off mid-sentence. “I don’t need your lectures old man, and I’m not some child!” Vittorio didn’t want to seem ungrateful of the help they had given him, but he didn’t need this man trying to act like his father. His father was dead. Also, he needed to get out of there as soon as his injury would allow, or Carlo was likely to find and kill him and anyone that had helped him. If they helped him, he could reach Venezia, since his father had other properties there as well as Firenze.
Instead of being offended, the man simply chuckled before flicking him against the forehead as the youth hissed in pain. “Your petulance shows that you’re nothing more than a child, and spoiled as well.” Vittorio bristled up like an angry cat, but the older man cut off anything he may have said. “Now, listen carefully, brat. You will remain in this bed until the dottore deems you able to move around. Is that understood?”
Vittorio’s mouth twisted in distaste, but another smack forced him to agree. “I’ll stay in the maledetto bed!” he shouted, getting hit again for cursing. The man gave him a snarky smirk and roughly ruffled his hair. The fourteen year old tried not to pout like the child he was accused of being. Instead, he was going to concentrate on getting better, and if he had to try walking when he was alone, nobody had to know.
He lifted a careful hand to the bandages that covered most of his face as well as his left eye. Vittorio remembered that it hadn’t been damaged by Carlo’s sword, so it was likely covered because the cut had been dangerously close to the eye. His face was still a strong throb of pain, and when he moved too quickly or tried to walk his back wound caused him agony.
Vittorio was distracted from trying to peel away the bandages so he could see out of his left eye, and glanced at the ten year old as he shifted in the doorway. The daylight was quickly fading, and soon it would be night. “Is this your house?” he asked Elio, making him jump in surprise since it was the first time he’d spoken directly to him in five days. “What’s your name?”
Elio licked his dry lips and glanced nervously over his shoulder. “I’m Elio Petaccia, and this is just a hideout. We don’t really have a home.” He bit his upper lip and looked like he may have said too much. Vittorio could really care less about his life story, and didn’t want to know these people. He only wanted to get Elio to tell him where he was, since Alejandro had refused to tell him.
“I don’t care about that! Just tell me where it’s located,” he snapped irritably. The boy cringed a bit and Vittorio momentarily experienced guilt before he quickly brushed it off. If he was offended then it wasn’t really Vittorio’s concern. He was younger than him, and his father had him as practically a prisoner. “Well? I haven’t got all day!”
Elio looked down at his scruffy boots self-consciously. “We’re in a hide-out in the Antico district.” Alio reached up to scratch his head and it was Vittorio’s turn to cringe. He hoped the boy didn’t have lice, and he really hoped he didn’t infest Vittorio. Although, judging by the tingling he felt along his scalp, he may already be too late to prevent it, or it could be goosebumps.
He was interrupted out of his horror of having to shave his head as Elio’s words registered in his mind. “Antico?” he asked incredulously. “How long was I unconscious?” Vittorio knew he’d passed out that first time he had woken up, but how long had it been before that?
When it became apparent that neither his brother nor father was going to come back and chastise him for disturbing Vittorio, he shuffled further into the room. Elio had never been around anyone close to his age before and usually was stuck with Aldo, since he was training Elio but he was seventeen. Alejandro was already twenty and spent most of his time doing “missions” with his father or with other thieves. So, he wanted to know everything there was to know about the older boy, and especially how he’d gotten so injured.
“Well, the first time you were unconscious for a week and a half, and then two days,” he informed him, taking a seat in the rickety chair by the bed which groaned in protest. “We were in a hide-out in Centro when Alejandro found you. The dottore bandaged you up and said that all we could do was wait to see if you made it through the night.” He grinned at him. “And you did.”
Vittorio rolled his eyes at the younger child, but glanced at him when he hesitated. Elio cast another furtive glance toward the door, and the window that had been left open to let the breeze in. “Then the soldiers came,” he said, lowering his voice until it was only a whisper. Vittorio had to lean in a bit closer to hear what Elio was saying. “They started searching the houses looking for someone.” Vittorio’s breath hitched in his throat. “We had to flee, and there was no choice but to put you on my fratello’s back and run.”
Elio shrugged as he leaned back in the chair and it creaked again at the shift. “Papa said they were looking for the son of some aristocrat or something that was being accused of treason against the church. I overhead Alejandro and father speaking about it, and I think they said his name was Vittorio or something.”
The fourteen year old felt as if the very air had frozen in his lungs. Those men had been looking for him! The only thing he could think about it was that Carlo hadn’t been lying. However, it could also just mean that it was a one big conspiracy, but it just seemed so unlikely. This left him with a lot to think about as he stared down at his hands. He would never be able to return to his childhood home, since they’d surely be waiting for him. Also, he couldn’t let these people know his real name, because even if they had helped him, he didn’t trust them. Vittorio doubted there was anyone left alive that he trusted, and the thought was just a little bit lonely.
“Are you feeling ill?” Elio’s voice cut into his awareness and Vittorio realized that he’d been staring at his trembling hands for several long seconds. “You look very pale. I should call my papa.” The ten year old stood, but Vittorio’s hand shot out to stop Elio before he could walk off. He warily glanced at the boy, but seemed to understand him as he sat back down.
It was in that moment that the chair gave one last cry of dismay and broke underneath him, so chair pieces and Elio wound up on the floor. The situation was so ridiculously out of place that it caused a half-crazed laugh to escape him. Elio face turned beet red and that sent him into hysterics as he laughed and laughed so hard that his wound pained him. Vittorio was feeling partially hysterical and helpless while at these people’s mercy, and he couldn’t get himself to stop laughing. He could only continue to reassure himself that everything would be alright, and even went so far as to believe himself. After all, deep-seeded denial ran in his family.
“Iso,” he murmured when Elio inquired about his name. It was almost easy to let that name slip through his lips after so many years, because for a long time he had thought he was Isotta. “My name is Iso.” If Elio found it strange that he had given a girl’s name, he said nothing on the matter and continued to ask him questions. When he asked about his injuries Vittrio lied once again, and he said that his family was from Firenze and had come to visit a relative. They’d been ambushed by bandits, his parents killed, and Iiso had barely escaped with his life. The younger boy hung onto every word he said. Vittorio had never had siblings, Isotta dying when he’d been too young to remember, but he imagined it was something like that. It was something he could get used to, and the affection he felt for the boy scared the hell out of him.
This caused him to lash out as he cut the younger boy off as he’d been describing a legend among the thieves of a hooded man with violet eyes that grown men spoke of in whispered conversation. La Volpe. Frankly, Vittorio was fed up with legends and myths. He needed something real to believe in and give him hope, or maybe he needed to learn to believe in himself.
“Don’t be absurd,” he snapped. “Men like that are just myths! Just like the diavolo swordsman from Firenze. They don’t exist!”
Elio seemed to take great offence by his words this time as he puffed up like a bullfrog. “He does exist! Papa works for him! He saved my mama and me! He-”
“Is just a story! He’s not real.” Vittorio turned away as the anger drained out of him to be replaced by sorrow. “In the end, you realize that they’re just bedtime stories parents tell to babies, but one has to grow up. We all do...”
“You shouldn’t tear down someone else’s beliefs just because another destroyed yours.” Vittorio’s head snapped around to stare at Alejandro, who had come in without making a noise. He had his right elbow propped on Elio’s shoulder while in his left hand there was a bowl of something that might have been food. Alejandro jerked his head toward the exit as he straightened, and after one last glance at Vittorio Elio hurried out the door.
Once they were alone, the young man moved toward him and calmly set the bowl down on the small table beside the bed. “I saved your life, so that puts you in my debt until you save mine. Whether you repay that debt or I die first, you will accept and be grateful for what you are given until that time has come to pass.” He turned his back on him as he moved to the door, but paused in the doorway. “Don’t put those thoughts into my fratellino’s head, Iso,” he sneered on the last word. Vittorio wondered how long the man had been listening to the conversation, and if his tone suggested that he didn’t believe that it was his name.
Alejandro walked out and closed the door, and ten minutes as he was eating the lukewarm food, the sun finally set as the room was slowly plunged into darkness. Vittorio had never been afraid of the dark, but being alone in the dark, cold room during a moonless night was too much for him. He stood even with the pain between his shoulder blades, and hobbled his way over to where he was fairly sure was the door. Vittorio cursed as he stubbed his toe on the small table and the bowl fell and broke, and gasped as he tripped over the pieces of the broken chair. Finally, he found the door after groping around and pushed it open. There was a torch two houses down and Vittorio wasn’t sure he would make it before he succumbed to the pain. However, he didn’t really have a choice and he grabbed the unlit torch and prepared to make the effort to reach it.
His torch suddenly came to life with fire and he jumped in fright, and turned to the left to see Alejandro, carrying the lit torch which he’d obviously used to light his. Alejandro then stared at him so long that Vittorio became self-conscious, but refrained from reaching up to fuss with the bandages on his face. His left eye was still covered, which is the reason he hadn’t seen the young man walk up on him, and realized how much of a handicap it was in his current situation. “Get back in bed before you fall again.” He saw Vittorio swell up indignantly, and cut off his rant before it could get started. “I won’t carry you back this time. Not that I didn’t enjoy carrying the princess back. ” He smirked as Vittorio bristled angrily. “But you really don’t want to spend the night on the cold, dirty ground, do you?” Alejandro chuckled as Vittorio’s mouth snapped shut even as his lips twisted in anger. He turned and walked off, throwing a jaunty wave over his shoulder.
Vittorio was left fuming in the doorway until the pain made his knees wobbly, and he set the torch in the metal grate by the door before closing it. He barely made it to the bed when his legs gave way under him, and crawled under the covers with a pained whimper he was glad nobody heard.
After that, sleep quickly whisked him away into a troubled sleep. So, he was unaware as the door opened an hour later, and someone sat at the head of his bed. The only sound to be heard for a while was Vittorio’s labored breathing, and then the door opened again.
“Alejandro?” The young man’s gaze moved to the doorway where his father stood. “How is he?” he inquired as he closed the door and moved further into the room.
Alejandro looked down at Vittorio’s pale, sweaty face as he thrashed while he dreamed. He leaned down to whisper something in the boy’s ear as his fingers pushed back the damp strands of his brown hair. “He is bitter and filled with despair,” he murmured as he looked down at his slumbering features. Whatever he had said to him, it had calmed Vittorio down.
The older thief sighed with a nod as he leaned back against the wall. “It would be difficult for any child not to be after everything he’s been through,” he stated, watching his oldest run his hand tenderly through Vittorio’s hair. He knew Alejandro would see Elio in Vittorio and feel just as protective, since they weren’t that far apart in age. However, it would do him no good to get attached, for either of his sons. “He will want to leave once he’s healed,” he warned, seeing as Alejandro paused in his caress of the boy’s hair.
“I know that,” he said with an unhappy scowl. Mario knew that he wouldn’t keep quiet about what he thought of the idea. “Where will he go? They’ll find him, and that sadistic, figlio di puttana will get his hands on him.”
Mario gave a bone weary sigh as he rubbed a hand down over his face. “The ragazzo is proud and hard-headed. We can’t stop him no more than can catch a gust of wind.” He glanced at the aforementioned boy and saw that he’d curled his body to where he sensed Alejandro’s body heat. Mario saw a damaged child in need of affection and protection not only from others, but himself as well. “Let Elio try and perhaps he can reach him where we can’t.”
Alejandro frowned as he glanced at Vittorio uncertainly. The young man had seen the extent of his bitterness, and knew that his cynical attitude may affect Elio. However, it was the same way when one saved an injured bird, and you couldn’t help but get attached. “Fine, but I’ll keep an eye on them.” He gave the youth one more affectionate ruffle of Vittorio’s hair before he stood. “Is there any news?”
Mario’s face darkened immediately and this worried Alejandro. “We have a name now. La Volpe tracked one of the banditi down, and we were able to ambush their hideout. They call themselves the Cento Occhi.”
“A Hundred Eyes?” he asked incredulously as his old man nodded.
“It’s probably because of their vast numbers that grow every day.” Here his mouth tightened in an anger Alejandro hadn’t seen in a long time. “They don’t just stick to thieving, but they also murder, rape and are involved in the slave trade. There have been reports of men, women and even children being taken.”
Alejandro was filled with the same anger as his father at the last part, since he imagined his brother being taken by those heartless scums. “We can’t let them keep doing this to our people,” he growled.
The other nodded in agreement as he opened the door. “La Volpe wants us to find where they’re basing the slave trade in Antico, and if possible stop them. He knows we are not actual members of the Order, but he is and we owe him our allegiance.”
Alejandro rubbed a hand down the nape of his neck. “Si, but first we need to track down one of the main slavers, and without that information we won’t know where to start.”
“We have a name. It’s one of the reasons La Volpe had us searching for the boy. He knew that Rodrigo Borgia had the Sabelli household in his sights, so it would only be a matter of time before he sent someone for them. It’s just a shame that we didn’t get there in time to save anyone besides the boy.” Mario passed the door as his son followed. “Carlo Barbarigo is the instructor’s name, and he’s deeply involved with the slavers. He was planted in the Sabelli home as a spy for the Spaniard, and was simply waiting for the order to strike.” He paused as he glanced at the younger male. “From here we have to be careful of any move we make, or we’ll lead him right to the boy and everything will be for naught.”
Alejandro nodded as he closed the door. “Is that my mission then, to protect Vittorio?” Mario’s answer was cut off as the door snapped shut and both men walked further away, but Vittorio didn’t need to hear anymore. A hand ruffling his hair had brought him out of sleep and the first words of the conversation he’d overhead had been the reason he had faked still being asleep. The revelation that not only did they know exactly who he was, but that they were protecting him had shaken him, and didn’t know what to think. It was a shame that they hadn’t been able to save kind and gentle Giovanna, or to stop his parents’ tragic end, but they had found and saved Vittorio.
This meant that he could trust them to protect him and his identity while he recovered. The only thing that continued to nag him was their reasons for doing it, and what they wanted from him. He wondered what they got out of it. It was that lack of knowledge that kept him from completely trusting the two men.
~o~
It was two weeks later that he was able to finally leave the bed for short periods of time without feeling pain, and he was allowed to walk around outside as long as he didn’t strain himself. Whenever he’d venture outside Elio followed at his heels, and he couldn’t go anywhere without the younger boy at his side. He was like a loyal dog, and Vittorio was sure that if he had a tail it’d be happily wagging behind him whenever he got excited.
Vittorio snickered at the mental image of Elio as an energetic puppy, and the other gave him a curious glance. He just waved Elio off without saying a word for fear of bursting out laughing. Instead, he motioned for them to keep going to the nearby market. Vittorio had convinced Mario that he was well enough to go and come back, and if he made it then it’d be the longest he’d walked since his injury. So far, besides a few sporadic twinges of pain he was doing fine, but would sit down somewhere if he needed to. Frankly, Vittorio didn’t want to further injure himself, and be completely healed so he could go where he wanted, whenever he wanted.
It was ten minutes later that found him sitting on the stump of a broken marble column, and he waited for Elio to return from the stand a few feet away. His upper back had started hurting and had told the younger boy to go on ahead and he’d wait there. Vittorio could see the stand from where he was sitting, but there were so many people at this time of day that they were blocking his line of vision. One minute he saw Elio with a bag of apples, oranges, and bread, and then the crowd got too thick for Vittorio to see. When he was finally able to glimpse the fruit stand, Elio was nowhere to be seen.
The fourteen year old felt dread seize his heart as he stood and hurried over despite the pain, but all he found was the abandoned sack. He frantically looked around but there was no sign of him, and Vittorio didn’t know what he was going to do. Alejandro had been shadowing their every move for the past two weeks, but Mario and the young man had been urgently called to a meeting with La Volpe. Vittorio had gotten a glimpse of the man with Elio trying to look around him, and he had finally believed his ridiculous myth. That’s the only reason they had gotten away with going to the market by themselves, since it was close to their hideout and didn’t seem as if a pair of kids would be harassed by the guards. After all, Vittorio certainly didn’t look like the son of an aristocrat anymore.
He saw the spotter at the same time that the man saw him, and Vittorio’s first instinct was to run. Vittorio wasn’t trained as Alejandro or Mario, and was completely out of his element now. He didn’t know what to do when the man started walking in his direction, and the thing that kept him from fleeing was Elio and that he could be in danger. The teenager had eavesdropped on several of Mario and Alejandro’s conversations, and had heard quite a bit on this Centro Occhi gang, the slavers and how they worked. So, he knew that this man was a spotter for the slavers and if that were so then not only Elio, but he was also in danger. They preyed on the weak and right now, he looked like the main course.
The smile the man gave Vittorio was sharp and dangerous, but he feigned ignorance and smiled right back. “I noticed you appear lost. Are you looking for someone?” If he said he was looking for Elio then he may grow suspicious because they didn’t look alike enough to be brothers, so he lied through his teeth.
“Si,” he answered, playing up his injury with a wince and a hand to his face. The slavers would not care if his face was scarred, and only if both his eyes were good. It was fortunate that his left eye had already been uncovered and only had a simple dressing on his face now. Also, he couldn’t let on that he was bodily injured of he’d lose interest. After all, nobody wanted a cripple for a slave. “I was with my mother but lost sight of her.” He hesitated as he looked at the man with wary eyes. “Did you see her, perhaps? She has brown curly hair and caramel eyes, and she’s wearing a blue dress.”
The man had been studying him as he’d spoken, and Vittorio had kept standing still and straight despite a persistent throb that had started at the small of his back. When he was given that smile again, he knew he’d passed his scrutiny. “I think I saw a woman that could have been your mother. She did seem to be looking for someone. I can show you where she is if you want.”
He may have nodded a bit too eagerly, but either the man hadn’t thought anything of it or figured it was his enthusiasm to find his ‘mother’. The youth followed after him and tried to walk normally as the throb that had started to get uncomfortable, and tried to think of a course of action. So far, Vittorio was just winging it, but didn’t know how long that would work.
Almost as soon as they had left the main road, he was surrounded by two more men, and figured that perhaps he hadn’t thought this through. “What’s going on?” he asked, and he didn’t have to fake the tremor in his voice. Vittorio was scared, but it was too late to run now. Besides, he was sure that these men had taken Elio, and as they seized his arms and threw a sack over his head, he prayed that he wasn’t wrong.
~o~
Vittorio bit back a sob as he was flung none too gently into the cage, and curled into the fetal position as the door was slammed shut and the men walked off. It was surely high noon right now, but as he pulled the sack from on top of his head he noticed that they were somewhere dark and damp. If he listened carefully he could hear the dripping of water nearby. Vittorio wasn’t sure where they had taken him since they’d pulled the sack over his head, but he was sure it was the same one Elio had dropped and that Vittorio had picked up. He’d heard them eating the food as they’d dragged his protesting body off. Bastardi.
He finally uncurled when the pain had lessened and slowly sat up as he looked around the dim room. There was a torch at his back so he had some light and thus saw several small figures huddled in the corner. “Elio?” he called uncertainly. He heard a gasp as he squinted in an effort to see through the gloom. Vittorio saw one of the figures in the corner stand and rush over to him. It was too late to remind him of his injury as Elio tackled him and Vittorio tumbled back with the younger boy on top. He clenched his jaw so hard that he threatened to chip a tooth as agony shot along his nerve endings. Vittorio opened his mouth to snap at the ten year old until he realized that Elio was sobbing into Vittorio’s shoulder. A shaky sigh left his mouth as he patted the other on the back of his head.
When he’d finally calmed Elio down did he learn that he’d been grabbed as he was moving to another stand and passing by an alley way. It was infuriating to know that no one had even noticed the boy being taken by those men, and if Vittorio hadn’t noticed the spotter than they wouldn’t have ever known what had become of the boy.
Vittorio’s eyes snapped to the other figures that approached and his arm tightened protectively around Elio. “It’s okay Vitto,” he reassured the older boy. “Come on.” He beckoned them forward and Vittorio was suddenly being smothered by a dozen small bodies. They were all children younger than Elio himself, and the youngest being a boy of about twelve months that could barely walk. Elio hugged the little tyke close to his body as he gave Vittorio a helpless look. “We have to save them, Vittorio. I heard them talking. They’re going to sell them as slaves.”
Vittorio had grown to care about the ten year old in the time he had been recovering and even told him his real name. Hell, he’d let himself be caught by slavers to try and save him, but he wasn’t sure he could rescue them all. However, how could he say that when they were looking at him with those doe eyes, because despite of his bitterness, he wasn’t heartless. “All right,” he sighed. He reached into his boot and pulled out a thin stiletto blade. The thing about appearing weak was that nobody saw you as a threat, and it’s the reason the slavers hasn’t searched him for weapons. Vittorio would make sure they regretted their mistake.
The lock itself was easy, since Elio had already started to train to lock pick and pickpocket. Actually, the lock was so old that one solid hit with the hilt of his stiletto would have broken it, but allowed Elio to feel like he’d helped them escape. Now, this is where it got tricky, since if it had only been Vittorio and Elio then they could have easily snuck out on their own. So, now he’d be forced to make some kind of diversion so Elio could get the kids out. The problem was thinking up a plan that didn’t end up with him getting captured.
They snuck to the door and looked through a crack in the wood. There were two guards stationed right outside, and it didn’t look as if they would be moving any time soon. As far as he could tell, it was an hour past noon and so it would be a long time before they changed shift, and he didn’t think the children could wait that long. They were already squirming and whimpering from hunger as Elio tried to shush them. So, he had to think of something and fast.
In the end, he went with a reckless plan as Elio pushed open the door as hard as he could, knocking one to the side and pinning him against the wall. While the other was startled by what happened, Vittorio quickly cut both of his Achilles tendons so he crumpled with a scream, and one on the ground Vittorio knocked him out with a heavy rock he’d found on the ground. He quickly spun around as the other guard used his heavier body mass to push back against the door as Elio fell back with a helpless cry. The man pulled his sword out and lifted it to murder the poor boy.
“No!” Vittorio screamed, lunging forward and forgot he had the stiletto blade in his hand. Vittorio crashed into the larger man, knocking him away from Elio as he tumbled backwards. The fourteen year old was shaking as he looked down at the guard that stared up at him in shock, and both of them looked down at the blade sticking out of his lower belly. The guard was panting heavily as his hand moved to try and pull it out, but he gave one last gasping breath before his hand fell away and he went still.
Vittorio was trembling as he stared at the dead man and every breath he took was a whimper that threatened to turn into full out sobbing. A tug on his pant leg interrupted his hysteria and saw that the toddler had waddled up to him, and was staring up at him with teary brown eyes. The sight of that frightened face was enough to calm him. These innocents needed him, so he couldn’t lose his head.
He took the baby’s small hand and moved toward Elio who had once more been surrounded by the children as if reassuring themselves that the older boy was unhurt. “Alright, I’m going outside and see where we’re at,” he told Elio, and despite the tears running down his cheeks, his voice was steady. “Stay with the bambinos, and take this.” He handed over another dagger that he had hidden in his other boot. Elio opened his mouth but Vittorio cut him off. “Protect the little ones.” When the other nodded and moved them back into the shadows, Vittorio turned back to the dead man and inhaled deeply, and then pulled out the blade with a sickening squelch. Vittorio heaved for a moment, but otherwise kept his dignity in tact as he then slowly moved outside so he could see where they’d taken them.
The adolescent didn’t recognize where they were but there were several crumbling buildings and walls, and the grass was overgrown in some parts. He crept along the wall and looked the corner, but didn’t see any other guards even when he went to the other side of the wall. However, when he climbed on top of the wall he had to quickly duck down as he finally saw them. They were patrolling around where some construction was going on, and from what he could already make out, it was going to be a tower.
Vittorio cursed as he jumped down from the wall as a patrol passed by, hiding behind part of the wall that jutted out, and when they’d gone he came out. He glanced up to where he had been on top of the wall, and saw a bit further that there was a small niche where he would be able to observe the patrol without being seen. After several times observing the path they took, he had their route down. Vittorio figured he’d wait until they were the farthest away from where they were, and they’d make a break for the path that led them down to the road. It was a perfect plan, and best of all, it didn’t end with him getting captured.
Elio and the children crowded by the door as they waited for Vittorio to give them the signal. They would be out of sight when the patrol went by, and he would hurry them along when the guards were at the farthest end of the compound. As the four men reached the desired point, he was about to give the signal but his caught sight of two figures. He held out his hand to stop Elio and watched them for a moment, and noticed it was two men walking in their general direction. From this distance he could tell that one of them was wearing Captain’s armor, and the other was in all black and he walked with a noticeable limp. When they were close enough to distinguish their faces, Vittorio felt a cold hand clench around his heart as terror filled his mind. It was Carlo.
Vittorio’s turned and his frantic eyes met Elio’s worried ones, and looked for a moment at all those cherubic faces. The irrational fear to flee and leave them to the slaver’s mercy left his mind. “You get them down that path,” he told Elio firmly. Elio’s eyes widened in fear at the finality he heard in his voice, but before he could say a word Vittorio was gone. He rounded the corner and ran alongside the wall until he was out of sight of the building that was their prison, but soon the patrol would round the corner and see him. Vittorio’s hands and legs were shaking, but he inhaled a deep breath anyways. “Carlo Barbarigo! I’m over here, figlio di puttana!” he shouted as loud as he could.
The patrol spotted him immediately and saw both Carlo and the Captain turn back around. Vittorio glanced behind the men and saw Elio hurrying the kids along toward the path, and when they disappeared down the path he turned and ran. All six individuals were chasing him and he was forced to turn sharply around a corner several times to evade hands that came close to grabbing him. The pain from his back injury had been pushed to back of his mind as pure adrenaline kept him going. ‘So much for not getting caught,’ Vittorio thought with a hysterical laugh as his blood pounded in his ears and his legs ached.
Vittorio didn’t know how long had passed when he finally stopped running, and was crouched in a corner between a column and the wall as he tried to catch his breath. Vittorio could hear the clank of their armor nearby, and knew it was only a matter of time before they found him. Perhaps using himself as bait hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had, but he hadn’t had time to think of anything else.
“Vittorioooo,” a voice called in a sing-song tone. Vittorio shuddered as he recognized Carlo’s voice and shrunk further into the shadow made by the column. He saw that the sun was nearing the western horizon, and knew he only had to stay hidden until then. It was cloudy and knew that a summer storm was approaching, so the moon and starlight wouldn’t be seen. That’s when he would leave his hiding place and try-
“So, this is where you’re hiding,” he heard above him. Vittorio tried to look up too quickly, but he was too close to the wall and the back of his skull hit the unmoving surface. He whimpered as he fell to the side and felt dazed from the hit. Carlo laughed as he jumped down to land where he’d been crouched moments before. “Don’t kill yourself until I’ve had a chance to test out my new knife.” He pulled a dagger from a sheath at his waist, and the fading sunlight glinted off its serrated blade.
Vittorio scrambled back as well as he could while still sitting on the ground, but Carlo only calmly followed him. “Do you see these teeth?” he asked, indicating them on the dagger. “When you stab someone it’ll be really hard to properly stitch the wound closed. Especially if you twist it as you bury it in deeply.” Vittorio felt his back meet the wall and helplessly stared up as Carlo came to stand over him. “But with you I’m going to take my time, and try to see how loud I can make you scream.”
Carlo reached out to grab him and Vittorio instinctively cringed in anticipation of the pain. However, the clank of armor interrupted the man and Vittorio dared to crack one eye open to see Carlo turned toward the darkening sky of the east. There was a light that was growing ever brighter as if dawn was coming again, and there was shouting as guards were running back and forth. A random guard ran up as Carlo demanded to know what was happening. “Someone set the construction site on fire, and Captain da Siena is looking for you.”
Carlo growled as he turned back to the trembling youth who looked to be trying to blend into the wall behind him. “Cazzo!” He turned to walk away, but paused as he looked at the guard. “Watch him, and if he escapes you’ll pay with your life.”
The other man straightened as he gave a sharp nod. “I won’t let him out of my sight!” he assured him. Carlo eyed him momentarily before huffing and striding off as he cursed the inept Prospero da Siena and his guards. When he’d disappeared from sight, the guard moved toward him and Vittorio flinched away when he came too close. “Calmarsi, it’s me,” he hissed. Vittorio gasped as he recognized Alejandro’s voice now that he was closer.
Alejandro didn’t give him a chance to say anything as he grabbed and dragged him off. He tried to keep up with him as best as he could, but the pain had come back with a vengeance now that the adrenaline had run out. So, Vittorio was little more than a rag doll and the older man had to practically carry him, but he didn’t even seem to feel his extra weight even wearing all that armor. When they came to the cliff, they heard yelling from where they’d just come from.
“I WILL FIND YOU, VITTORIO!”
The teen shuddered fearfully but Alejandro only ruffled his hair with a smirk. “Not if I can help it,” he reassured him. Then without so much as a warning, he tossed him off the cliff and Vittorio’s scream lodged in the back of his throat. A moment later he landed in a big pile of hay and several hands dragged him out so Alejandro could jump as well. As he lay panting on the ground where they’d laid him, Elio appeared on one side surrounded by all the children they’d saved, and Alejandro on the other with the clank of stolen armor he was still wearing. Both of them were saying something but he couldn’t hear over the pounding of his own heart, but as darkness swooped in to carry him into oblivion, he only knew one thing.
As long as these two brothers were still alive, he would stay with them, and learn from them. Now, they would be his new family.-
~o~
Che Stolto - that fool
rospo - toad; nasty person
monello - brat, urchin, scamp, rascal, romp, guttersnipe, scapegrace
diavolo - demon
banditi - bandits