I found two men at the Duomo the following morning. The first was a hooded figure clothed in a white robe and body armor, with a sword at his side and a short blade on his back. I figured the son-of-a-bitch would be trouble, but he was seated on a bench - the guilty never sit, it prevents them from running. Instead, I advanced on the bard, who was standing like a Homo sapiens.

“Your 'guises won't fool me,” I snarled, ripping the lute from his hands. “Now listen here, sonny-boy. I'm not interested in negotiations - I want answers and I'm gonna get 'em.” I swung the instrument threateningly, like a samurai warrior set for battle. “Now talk!”

“You have a-not asked anyth--”

“Shut up!” I interjected. I could read him like a book. It was a tale of lies, conspiracy, and blood lust, like the Gospel According to Pilate. “I'm tired of your lies.” I drew the lute back like a golf club - nobody ever lies when faced with a groin-punch from a lute. “Who are you?”

“I'm a-Skittlini,” he pleaded, “a simple bard!”

“I'll ask the questions around here!” I backhanded his cheek and spat at his feet, just to complete the stereotype. “Who do you work for?”

“My-a-self,” he squeaked.

A one-man job! I gazed to the horizon, searching for answers. This city is untouchable - an almighty queen who's only flawed by the sins of her citizens. It was impossible to cut her down, for her to be drowned in the waters of chaos by the hands of a single man. “No,” I growled, frothing like a rabid wolf, “I'm not buying it. Who are you protecting?” “a-Please, I do not a-know what you are--” His words came to an abrupt end as a pair of shivs slammed through his back and out his chest. The lifeless figure hung like a coat on a rack until the blades retracted, dropping him like a rag doll. A hooded figure, wearing a white robe over body armor, kicked the corpse aside.

“No innocent blood...” I murmured, soiling myself. “A bench?”

“Works every time,” he mused, a silky accent dancing on his tongue. “You're now on my list.”

“Was Skittlini on your list, doll?”

“No.” The assassin gestured to the center of the courtyard, where an unmarred Skittlini placed his hat on the ground and began to sing hymnals. “That's why he's alive.”

[Editor's note: Ezio does not kill innocents]

A pair of blades leaped from the assassin's wrists and he made for my midriff. I moved quickly, dodging his attack and thumping his skull with the lute. I could not win a battle of fisticuffs with him, so I fled into the night - I realize that it's dawn, but night sounds sexier - and returned to my office.