Assassin's Creed: Youth

Chapter 1

8 years later...

Florence, Italy, 1449.

The ochre ribbons of sunlight wrapped around the newly-built Palazzo Medici. The russet rooftops appeared like a red wavering sea, mounted on the sandstone palace walls. Inside the three storey palace, a man of a wide diameter sat anxiously on a purple velvet throne. He wore a navy cloak, and a regal hat. He had a glare which possessed a commanding stance. His face was worn and looked deflated, and his eyes were deep, black tunnels, sunken into his head. His hair was grey and thin, with the texture of a bird's plumage. This man went by the name of Piero de' Medici, the most powerful man in Florence.
Piero was seated behind a desk, covered with a black tablecloth and a shiny red apple, examining a map which was resting on the surface. His finger skipped from point to point, as the power-hungry nobleman plotted his strategy. Just as he was eyeing up the merchant's district, a guard entered the room, walking in a swift stride.
Armoured in black leather and a hard metal helmet, the guard came to a stop, some feet away from the desk, and stood silently.
'You may speak. What do you need?' Piero began.
'There is a young man here to visit you,' replied the guard, almost stuttering. 'He says his name is Rodrigo Borgia.'
'Borgia... Nope. Doesn't ring a bell.'
'He said it was his new name. His real name is Rodrigo Llancol. '
'Oh!' Piero exclaimed. 'Of course, the nephew of my dear friend Alfonso. Let him in. '
'Yes, Sir. ' The guard left to let the young man in. Piero hastily put his map away and sat up in his chair, trying to look as regal as possible. Despite his influence, Piero still made a great effort to win over his political acquaintances.
The sound of hard-soled pumps echoed throughout the long hall, and in walked a young, thin, but not muscular, nobleman, wearing a silver hooded coat, a red waistcoat, and grey trousers. His pumps were perfectly polished as he stood tall and proud, ready to introduce himself.
'Buongiorno Signore,' Rodrigo started. 'My name is Rodrigo Borgia, and I come on behalf of my uncle Alfonso.'
'Of course,' Piero replied. 'I am well connected with your uncle. Such a nice man... not to mention a great pope.'
'Si, Ser Medici. I have a proposition for you.'
'How interesting! Of what kind?'
'He wants you to join us. He wants you to join our Alliance.'
'What alliance? What are you talking about, my boy?'
'The Templar Order. We need your support. '
'Tell him I'm not interested. '
'Your making a big mistake...'. Rodrigo stepped up to the desk, and picked up the apple, taking a heavy bite out of it. 'Come on,' he continued. 'Aid us in our mission for power.'
'Power...' Piero liked the sound of more power, even if it meant he had to join a group of some sort.
'Alright. Tell your uncle I'm in. '
'Grazie, Ser Medici. You'll been in control of Florence for as long as you live!'
In a moment, Rodrigo left the palace. So much control gained from one conversation! Piero could not believe it. Alfonso could help him influence any political decision. The only thing stopping him now was death.

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Over the years, Candida and Flora were raised in Masini Casa della Sera as scullery maids, having to clean up and wash the corsets of the courtesans. Most of the women were harsh to the sisters. They often scolded them if the clothes were late, or if they had moved anything while cleaning the house. Daniela often defended them, acting like a mother whose children were shouted at by the neighbours. Despite the hard work, Flora and Candida were grateful for what they had, and they tried their best to work hard.
Flora was pumping out the water from a spring into a large silver pail, her hands worn from operating the pump. She panted and sighed as her arms ached. This was too much work for an 8 year old.

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Piero called for a fortune-teller to see him immediately. She entered from down the hall, an elderly, round woman with an arched back, decorated with a trinket-full of necklaces and chains, as well as a brightly coloured scarf tied around her head. She carried a leather bag, and stepped slowly towards Piero, who was still seated at his desk.
'What do you need, your majesty?' The old woman asked.
'I need a prediction.' Replied Piero. ' A very accurate one.'
'What would you like to find out?'
'I need to know how I will die.'
The woman paused in shock. 'Signore Medici, knowing the future can be very dangerous. If you try to change things, you can often make them worse.'
Piero stood up at once in anger, banging his fist on the desk. 'Tell me!' He roared. 'Show me my death! I want to see it in front of my very eyes!'
'V-very well,' replied the old woman fretfully. 'I'll see what I can do.' She took a seat opposite him, and produced a palm-sized crystal ball from her bag. She placed it on the table.
'Now, Ser Medici,' she said, still afraid. 'Please close your eyes so I can sense your future.'
Piero reluctantly agreed, and shut his eyes. The woman did the same, and waved her hands over the crystal ball.
'Oh Mistral spirit!' She chanted. 'Oh great visionary of the deep!'
Piero sighed. The woman shushed him.
'I'm getting something! Open your eyes, look into my crystal ball!'
Piero opened his eyes, and gazed into the cloudy crystal, which was soon forming a picture. It showed a slender figure, cloaked in a white hood, stabbing Piero in the chest.
'Your life will be broken by a figure in white. '
Piero was dry-mouthed. He started to stutter.
'Show me where this figure is now!' He eventually shouted. 'I want her dead today!'
'B-but Ser Medici,' she replied. 'It would not do anything to save you. This is your fate!'
'SHOW ME! FIND OUT WHERE THIS WORM IS!'
'Fine...' She waved her hands over the crystal ball, and a new scene began to emerge. A little girl appeared, pumping streams of water out of a pump.
'There she is.' Piero scowled at the blurry image. 'Guards! To the house of night! You have a rat to catch.'
The sound of the guards' boots echoed down the halls.
'This doesn't chance anything! You can't run away from your fate!'
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'Owie!' Cried Flora. 'My back really hurts.'
'Here, let me take over,' replied Candida from inside. She strolled over to her sister, and pumped the water. 'You go and rest little sister. I will pump the water'. After Candida had said this, Flora ran inside and Candida proceeded to pump the water. Just then, a storm of armoured men with sharp swords came rushing down the street. They stopped when they found Candida pumping the water.
'There she is! The girl pumping the water. Get her!' The guards cheered and raced towards Candida, and the small group each stabbed her, as she cried and bled and fell to the floor.
Having been awoken from her nap by the loud disturbance outside, Candida hurried over to the street to see what was happening. There she found her older sister's body, limp and covered in blood. She ran over, collapsing on the ground next to her sister's corpse.
'Sister?' She called. 'Sister, wake up! Talk to me Candida!' There was no answer.
'Sister, please. Wake up. ' Tears began to fall down her cheeks. She leaned towards Candida's face, shaking her shoulders, trying to wake up her sister. 'Sister, wake up.' She repeated this again and again, trying to wake her up with no success. Candida never woke up.