Templar's Creed

Chapter 17

Giovanni's gaze was icy as he regarded Vieri. "Always in the shadow of your father, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice a deadly whisper. "Is that why you're here, to prove your worth?"

Vieri's smirk grew, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You think you know everything, Auditore," he spat. "But you know nothing of the power we wield, the secrets we hold. My father's shadow is where I learned to hunt men like you."

Giovanni felt a cold rage building within him, his eyes never leaving the young Templar's face. "Your father's shadow," he sneered. "Is that all you are? A reflection of his cruelty?"

Vieri's smirk grew wider, his eyes glinting with the light of the torches. "My father taught me well," he said, drawing his sword with a flourish. "But unlike him, I will not underestimate you."

But before Vieri could make his move, a cacophony of steel and shouts echoed through the alleyway. The wall of Templars surrounding them suddenly fell into disarray as figures clad in black emerged from the shadows. The air was filled with the clang of swords and the grunts of men fighting for their lives. The Templars were caught off guard, their numbers quickly dwindling under the surprise onslaught.

Giovanni's heart leapt at the sight of his brother, Mario, at the forefront of the attack. His blade was a whirlwind of steel, cutting through the enemy with the precision of a master swordsman.

"Giovanni!" Mario's voice was a welcome roar amidst the chaos.

Giovanni's eyes never left Vieri's, his fury unwavering. He watched as the young Templar's confidence wavered, his smugness replaced by a flicker of doubt. With a snarl, he lunged at Vieri, his blade slicing through the air with a deadly grace that belied his grief. The two men clashed, steel sparking as their swords met in a dance of death.

Mario, seeing his brother's rage, stepped in to support him. Together, the Auditore siblings were a formidable force, their movements fluid and coordinated. They pushed Vieri back, their combined rage and skill overwhelming the arrogant Templar. Vieri's parries grew sloppy, his breaths ragged, as he struggled to keep up with their relentless assault.

Giovanni's blade sang a deadly aria, each strike a silent promise of vengeance for Elena's life. He felt his muscles burn with the exertion, but he didn't care. The world had narrowed to this moment, this fight. With a final, powerful swing, he disarmed Vieri, the young man's sword clattering to the ground.

Vieri stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock and fear. He stared up at the two Auditores, his chest heaving with desperate breaths. "You think this is over?" he spat, his voice trembling. "You're just pawns in a game you can't possibly understand."

Giovanni stepped closer, his eyes cold and hard. "Your game ends here," he growled, raising his sword.

Mario's voice was a steady rumble beside him. "We're not pawns," he said, his gaze never leaving Vieri's terrified face. "We're the ones who end games."

Giovanni took a deep breath, his muscles coiled like a spring. He brought the sword down, the blade slicing through the air with a finality that left no room for doubt. The blade met Vieri's neck, the young Templar's eyes widening in a silent scream. His body convulsed once before going limp, his lifeblood spilling onto the cobblestones.

The remaining Templars broke rank, fleeing into the night like the cowards they were. Mario stepped up beside him, his own sword still, his eyes reflecting the rage and pain that filled Giovanni's heart. "Thank you," Giovanni managed, his voice hoarse from screams and exertion.

Mario's gaze never left the lifeless body of Vieri de Pazzi. "You don't have to thank me," he said, his voice tight with anger. "We're family. We fight together."

Giovanni took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes filling with tears. "I need to tell you everything," he choked out. "My son's death, Maria's disappearance, the artifacts... It's all connected to the Templars."

Mario's face was a mask of fury and concern. "We'll find her," he vowed, gripping his brother's shoulder firmly. "Together."

Giovanni nodded, his eyes never leaving Elena's lifeless body. "We have to," he murmured. "The Templars have gone too far."

With a heavy heart, Mario took the lead, guiding his grieving brother and nephew through the city streets, now stained with the blood of their kin. The mansion loomed ahead, a bastion of safety in a world that had become a nightmare. Once inside, they laid Elena's body gently on a table in the grand hall, the air thick with sorrow and determination. The house was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that raged within them.

The mansion was a testament to the Auditore family's wealth and influence, with high ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes and walls lined with suits of armor that seemed to stand guard over the grieving trio. The candles cast flickering shadows, dancing on the marble floor like ghosts of happier times.

In a quiet corner of the garden, they dug a grave with their bare hands, sweat mixing with their tears as they worked under the solemn moonlight. The earth was cold and unforgiving, but it was the only solace they could offer Elena now. They wrapped her in a soft velvet shroud, the fabric whispering against her lifeless form as they laid her to rest.

Maria, their mother, had always loved the garden. The scent of lavender and roses had been her favorite, and now it clung to the air around them like a mournful lullaby. The flowers bowed their heads as if in silent tribute to the daughter they had lost. The hole grew deeper, swallowing the light as it grew wider, a mirror to the abyss that yawned open in their hearts.

Giovanni paused, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of dirt on his forehead. "We'll return to the house," he said, his voice hoarse from grief. "We can't leave Federico behind."

Mario nodded solemnly, his own eyes red-rimmed from crying. "We'll give him the burial he deserves," he murmured. "And then, we'll make them pay."

They returned to the city, the grim task of retrieving Federico's body weighing heavily on their hearts. The streets of Florence were a stark contrast to their quiet resolve; the city was still ablaze with the fires of chaos that the Templars had sown. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning wood and fear, the cries of the innocent piercing the night like a mournful symphony.