Templar's Creed

Chapter 32

Giovanni's eyes widened in shock and anger, the rage in his heart now a bonfire that threatened to consume him. "You treacherous snake," he snarled, his voice thick with contempt. "You've turned the very men who trusted you into pawns for your sick games!"

Cesare's smile was cold, his eyes gleaming with a dark amusement. "Ah, but it is not I who pull the strings," he taunted, his blade never still. "It is the hand of fate, the will of God that guides us all."

Giovanni's eyes narrowed, his focus solely on the man before him. With a roar of fury, he launched himself at the Borgia, their swords clashing in a dizzying display of skill and power. The air was filled with the ringing of steel, the smell of fear and sweat, as the two men danced a deadly ballet of death. Each step was calculated, each strike a silent promise to end the other's life.

But it was Cesare who had the upper hand, his movements fluid and precise, a reflection of his cold, calculating mind. He had anticipated Giovanni's every move, reading him like an open book. With a swift twist of his wrist, he disarmed the Assassin, sending his blade skittering across the stone floor.

Giovanni staggered back, his eyes wide with disbelief. He had never felt such power, such a complete lack of control in his life. Yet, even as he reached for the hidden dagger at his side, he knew it was a futile gesture. The Borgia had bested him—for now.

Cesare stepped closer, his own blade still at the ready, a silent threat that hung in the air. "Your cause is lost," he sneered, his voice a mix of triumph and contempt. "You are nothing but a relic of a bygone era, clinging to ideals that no longer have a place in this world."

Giovanni's hand hovered over the dagger at his side, his eyes never leaving the smug expression on the young tyrant's face. The rage that had fueled him was now a raging storm, threatening to consume him from within. Yet, as he looked into the cold, pitiless eyes of the man who had orchestrated so much pain and suffering, something within him shifted, a realization that this was not just a fight for vengeance, but for the very soul of humanity.

With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the chamber, he lunged at Cesare, the hidden blade glinting in the firelight. The Borgia's eyes widened for a fraction of a second—just enough for Giovanni to see the flicker of fear in them. Yet, it was a fleeting glimpse, as the Templar leader stepped aside with a grace that seemed almost inhuman, his own blade flashing out to catch Giovanni's wrist, the steel biting deep into flesh and bone.

Giovanni's dagger clattered to the ground, forgotten in the face of the searing pain that shot through his arm. He staggered back, his vision blurring with rage and agony. He had never felt so powerless, so utterly outmatched. Yet, even as he cradled his injured limb, something within him refused to give in. The fire in his soul burned brighter, fueled by the very injustice he had sworn to fight against.

"Stay down, old man," Cesare sneered, his own blade now pointed at the Assassin's throat. "Your fight is over. I grow weary of your theatrics."

Giovanni's eyes blazed with a fierce light, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he clutched his injured wrist. Yet, he did not fall, his will as unyielding as the steel that had pierced him.

"Stay down," Cesare repeated, his voice a cold whisper. "I tire of your futile rebellion. Submit to the inevitable, and perhaps I shall grant you a swift death, a mercy you do not deserve or maybe I will give you a gift..."

Giovanni's chuckle was laced with pain, a grim counterpoint to the young Templar's arrogance. "Mercy from the likes of you?" he spat. "I think not." Yet, the offer intrigued him. A gift from the viper? He had to hear this.

Cesare's smile grew, his eyes gleaming with the promise of something dark and tempting. "You have proven a worthy adversary, Giovanni. Far more than I ever anticipated." He took a step closer, the tip of his sword grazing the Assassin's neck. "If you swear fealty to me, I shall grant you a gift beyond your wildest dreams. Power, wealth, the ability to shape the world as you see fit, it can all be yours."

Giovanni's breath was a hiss of pain as he met the cold gaze of the Borgia. "You think I am so easily bought?" His voice was a snarl, a beast backed into a corner. "My family's blood stains your hands—I want nothing from you but your head on a pike!"

Cesare's smile never wavered, the gleam in his eyes like a sharpened knife. "Ah, but what of your son?" He leaned in, his voice a whispered taunt. "What if I could give him back to you, whole and untouched by the hands of fate?"

Giovanni's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Petruccio, the hope that had been buried deep within him threatening to rise to the surface. "What trickery is this?" he demanded, his eyes searching the young tyrant's face for any sign of deception.

Cesare's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with malicious glee. "No trick, I assure you," he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. "Your son lives, though not untouched by the hands of fate. He has been... changed. But with my help, perhaps he can be restored."

Giovanni's eyes searched the young Borgia's face, seeking the truth in the sea of deceit. The very thought of Petruccio being alive was a beacon in the darkness that had consumed him since the day of his capture. Yet, he knew better than to trust the words of a snake. "If what you say is true," he gritted out, "why offer me this... 'gift' now?"

"Ah, a man of skepticism." Cesare leaned back, his blade still at Giovanni's throat. "I offer it because I see potential in you. You could be a valuable asset, a tool to help me carve a new world order. With your skills and my vision, we could be unstoppable."

Giovanni's mind raced. The thought of seeing Petruccio again was too tempting to dismiss outright, but the price... to serve the very man who had brought so much pain to his family was unthinkable. Yet, he knew he had to play along, to buy time and find an opening. "What would you have me do?"

Cesare's smile grew, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Swear fealty to me, Giovanni Auditore," he said, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Become a Templar, and I will reveal to you where your son is being held. Together, we shall crush the remnants of your precious Order, and in return, I shall grant you the power to save him."

Giovanni's heart pounded in his chest, the temptation almost too much to bear. Yet, the thought of betraying all that he held dear was a bitter pill to swallow. His eyes searched the room, looking for any sign of a way out of this deadly trap. The other Templars had formed a ring around them, their swords at the ready, eager to see the end of the legendary Assassin.

He knew that he could not trust the Borgia, but the hope for his son's life was a siren's call that he could not ignore. "What guarantee do I have that you will keep your word?" he asked, his voice hoarse from the battle and the weight of his decision.