Templar's Creed

Chapter 20

The docks were a maze of shadows and sounds, the ships' masts stretching up like the fingers of a giant hand reaching for the moon. The scent of saltwater and fish mingled with the sweat of the dockworkers, their carts groaning under the weight of crates and barrels. He spotted the Ottoman ship, its distinctive crimson flag snapping in the breeze. It was surrounded by Ottoman guards, but their attention was focused on the chaos at the palazzo.

Giovanni's heart hammered in his chest as he approached the ship. His mind raced with thoughts of his children, torn from their mother's embrace, now in the clutches of the very men he had sworn to stop. He had to be swift and silent, lest he alert the guards to his presence. With the agility of a panther, he leaped from rooftop to rooftop, closing the distance between him and the ship. His eyes searched for an opening, a way to board without being seen.

Spotting a rope ladder dangling from the side of the ship, he took a deep breath and made his move. The ladder groaned under his weight, but held firm. He climbed swiftly, each rung a step closer to his children. The ship creaked and swayed beneath him, the rhythm of the sea a stark contrast to the battle-torn streets of Florence.

As he reached the deck, the screams grew louder, piercing the night air like the wail of a banshee. They were Claudia's, he was sure of it. The urgency in her voice was unmistakable, a siren's call that propelled him forward. He moved through the shadows, his eyes peeled for any sign of danger. The Ottoman guards were distracted, their attention on the commotion back in the city.

Giovanni's heart was a hammer in his chest as he approached the cabin from which the screams emanated. The wood was thick and sturdy, a testament to the ship's quality, but it was no match for his rage. He kicked the door open, the splinters flying like shrapnel in the dimly lit room. Inside, he found Claudia, her eyes wide with terror as she struggled against the grip of a burly sailor. The man's face twisted in surprise as he saw the intruder, releasing her to draw his sword.

Giovanni didn't waste a moment. He vaulted over the crate that separated them, his sword slicing through the air with a deadly grace. The sailor had no time to react, his cry of surprise cut short as the blade found its mark. The man fell to the ground, his life's essence pooling around him. Claudia's eyes searched her father's, a silent question in their depths. "I'm here," he murmured, sheathing his sword. He gathered her in his arms, her trembling body a contrast to his own unyielding resolve.

The ship lurched beneath them, the sound of distant gunfire hinting at a battle on the horizon. "We must find Petruccio," he said, his voice firm. Claudia nodded, her eyes filled with a fierce determination that mirrored his own. Together, they moved through the ship, the shadows their allies as they searched for any sign of her brother.

The Ottoman General's cabin was a bastion of opulence amidst the chaos. The man himself was a towering figure, his eyes cold and calculating as he assessed the new threat that had entered his domain. "Where is he?" Giovanni demanded.

The General's smile was a twisted mockery, the blade at his throat failing to deter him. "You dare to ask a question you already know the answer to," he sneered.

Giovanni's grip tightened, the cold steel pressing harder into the man's flesh. "Where is my son?" he demanded, his voice a deadly whisper.

The Ottoman General's eyes flicked to the side, a brief moment of fear betraying his stoic facade. "He is not here," he managed to spit out, his voice strained.

Giovanni's grip tightened, the blade biting deeper into the soft flesh of the man's neck. "Do not lie to me," he hissed. "I will end you where you stand if you do not tell me the truth."

The Ottoman General's eyes bulged, his throat working around the pressure of the steel. "Your son," he choked out, "he is not on this ship. He was taken to the Sultan's palace. He is not in Florence."

Giovanni's rage grew colder, sharper. He knew this was not the end; it was just the beginning of a new chapter in his quest for vengeance. "Tell me where to find him," he growled, the tip of his blade breaking the skin.

The General's voice trembled as he spoke. "Constantinople," he revealed. "With the Sultan's envoy, on the fastest ship in the Ottoman fleet."

Giovanni's eyes narrowed, the name of the city a bitter taste in his mouth. Constantinople, the heart of the Ottoman Empire, a place as foreign and unforgiving as the fate that had stolen his son from him. But he would not be deterred. The same cold rage that had fueled his fight against Uberto now burned brighter, a beacon guiding him to Petruccio.

With a swift motion, he released the General, letting the man crumple to the floor. There was no joy in the victory; it was merely another step in a much larger battle. They had to act quickly. They had to leave Florence before the city swallowed them whole in its grief and anger.

Giovanni moved through the ship with the cold efficiency of a storm. His blade danced a macabre ballet of death, leaving a trail of fallen Ottoman soldiers in his wake. The ship's crew, caught off-guard by the sudden turn of events, were no match for the furious Assassin. The deck grew slick with blood as he fought his way to the captain's cabin.

The captain, a burly man with a greasy beard, met him with a snarl. "You dare to challenge me?" he roared, raising his sword.

Giovanni didn't bother with words. His blade sang through the air, a silent reply to the captain's question. The man's eyes widened in shock as the steel met his throat, cutting off his challenge mid-sentence. He crumpled to the floor, his blood joining the crimson river that was spreading across the deck.