The middle of the night found Renaldo sitting on a balcony railing. The wind had picked up as the night began to cool. The air brushed against his skin and pushed aside his cloak now and then. His hood was drawn down, letting the breeze cut through his hair. For once today, he actually felt cool. This summer was brutal in this city, but now, in the middle of the night it was comfortable. And being up at the highest window of the Assassin tower helped a great deal. It was something that always reassured him; being somewhere high where the wind could cut through you. He wasn't cold by any means as he balanced himself on the thin iron railing of the roof.<br/><br/>Looking out across the city was calming too, and it helped with everything that he had on his mind. Isaiah's story had rattled Renaldo, though he would never fully admit it. Part of him still couldn't believe that Nicolina was in the city. She had really never left Florence when they lived together; she had always talked about how much she loved it. She always went on about the blacksmith's apprentice. She had always been his little sister in his memories. Whenever he thought back, he could only see soft wavy hair, bright auburn eyes, a jingling laugh and a smiling face.<br/><br/>It was drastically different from the Nicolina he had stumbled across this afternoon. The Nicolina he had seen looked dangerous. Renaldo couldn't get the image out of his mind; his sister's waist laced with knives and daggers. Her dress had been short, as if she had been riding all day long. She must have just arrived in the city when he saw her.<br/><br/>And she had been talking with a doctor. Renaldo had visited that man once or twice maybe. But Nicolina had asked questions about Isaiah. The doctor must have been a Templar informant. Whenever Renaldo had missions outside of Florence, his mentor would always send him to a Templar for more information.<br/><br/>Renaldo sighed heavily and pushed his hair from his face. If Nicolina had been trained by the Mentor, then why was Isaiah still alive? Slowly, Renaldo went over the details Isaiah had recounted to him. She'd led him to a brothel...she had offered him a drink...she had cut him. Oh, poison. That was her specialty then; it explained why she only carried knives and daggers, no sword or crossbow. So she had posioned him, but not enough to kill him? She had wanted answers from Isaiah?<br/><br/>Renaldo growled lightly in his throat at that thought. What had the Mentor told Nicolina?! She thought he was dead along with their father? Renaldo rubbed his eyes with a rough exhale. The fire flashed into his mind. The attack his father had tried to warn Renaldo about. Nicolina had been running errands...she must have returned to a flaming house...he could get that she thought them dead...but how could the Mentor have gone along with it?! Even after he had helped Renaldo escape the city?<br/><br/>Something just didn't feeling right. He could understand the templars wanting to keep the attack secret; hence starting the fire after his father was killed. But if they really wanted the Mancini family killed off, why had the Mentor helped him? Why had they kept Nicolina alive? Taking a deep breath, Renaldo managed to clear his head with that thought. Maybe he should find her...maybe he could talk to her and explain what had really happened.<br/><br/>Only he had not idea where to find her. This wasn't the smallest city in Italy. An idea dawned on him, and he sat up suddenly. The doctor...the doctor had to know where she was. Or at least where he might find her. Jumping back through the window, Renaldo started the descend to the ground level.<br/><br/>---------<br/><br/>Nicolina wasn't expecting the nightmares. They had gone away after the first year, and she had thought they were gone for good. Apparently, she was wrong.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">She was picking up a package for her father. The wrapped box was in her arms as she walked past the blacksmith's. She would always walk past when she had a spare moment. Even just to peak in passing glance. Armando was always working in the afternoon, and she could never give up a chance to see him. He hardly said much to her, always so busy with his work. Once, though, when he had caught her eye, he had smiled. That one smile made her go back again and again to see it again.<br/><br/>This time, when she passed by, he managed to look up. A hammer in once hand, and plyers in the other. When he saw her outside the window, a grin appeared on his face. Nicolina felt her face grow hot as she smiled back and she quickly turned off to head back home. She needed to get this package to her father; he said it was important.<br/><br/>Only one problem. When she turned down the street to her house, she found men in a line. Each was passing a bucket to the next. The last one was throwing water on burning beams. The house was warped by the fire. It had consumed the building. Nicolina dropped the package in a scream. <br/><br/>The fire twisted, flaring up at the sound of her scream. It stirred back into life and an ember launched forward to burn her skin. As if her skin was paper, the fire began to lick up her arm. Nicolina screamed again in pain. The sting of the fire shattered her dream.</span><br/><br/>Waking in a cold sweat, Nicolina sat up suddenly. A blade was in her hand, but she was staring at an empty room. Her chest was heaving and as the lucid dream ebbed away, Niclina lowered her arm. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before wiping the cold sweat from her face. It was the middle of the night. She was in Venice. She had failed to kill her target. But she had wounded him; so she had a good chance at getting to him again. She would just need to be patient. Slowly exhaling, Nicolina fell back onto the bed. She wasn't going to sleep any time soon, but at least she could relax and calm her mind.<br/><br/>She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. The first thing that came to her mind was the talk she had had with the Mentor just after the fire.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">I am so sorry for your loss Nicolina. I thought of your father as my brother, and your brother as my son. I see you as my daughter as well, so know that you are more than welcome to stay here. My door will never be closed for you my dear.<br/>How could this have happened?</span>She had asked, sipping from the glass of wine the Mentor had given to her. She had been so distraught. He had told her that the fire was a cover. He had said that people had murdered her father, and her brother had died fighting them off. She had never asked how the Mentor had discovered this; she had simply set her sights on discovering her father's murders. And making them pay.<br/><br/>The Mentor had hinted that this mark would have answers. But after Nicolina had talked to him, he had given her no answers. He only thought the name was familiar. He had killed many men, and could only faintly recalled their names?! The thought made Nicolina furious. But then again, Isaiaha had said he worked alone. Mentor said there were many men that had gone after Renaldo and their father.<br/><br/>Taking a deep breath, Nicolina rubbed her face with warm hands. Maybe the man was lying...she<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>poisoned him...and even though it was the light dose layered in her hair pins, it could have disrupted his thoughts and memories. Damn it all. If only the damn brothel hadn't caught fire! She might have had answers, or at least been done with the job and back in Florence to keep searching for the murders.<br/>Nicolina sighed and pulled the cross out from under her dress. It was the Mancini cross that her father had given to her for her fifteenth birthday. She had never taken it off after the day of the fire; she kept it as a silent prayer to avenge her family. She would find the answers. She would find the killer. And she would make them pay.