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Constantinople, Turkey; March 1511


Fiora closed up the last of her luggage.  She didn't pack much, as she left Rome in a hurry, so packing didn't take long.  All she had was a small chest and a couple bags.  After one last check around her cabin, she decided she grabbed everything and walked over to one of the beds.  She gently shook the little girl that was sleeping soundly beneath the covers.  "Fabiola," she said.  The girl moaned, but she didn't wake up.  Fiora tried again.  "Fabiola," she said, a little louder this time.  Again, she didn't wake up.

She sighed.  It was probably around two o'clock in the morning, and the poor six-year old was knocked out.  Nonetheless, they needed to get going.  Fiora shook her again.  "Fabiola," she said.  "Come on, tesoro.  We have to go."  Suddenly, Fabiola began to stir.  She slowly sat up and yawned.  "What is it, Mama?" she asked, her eyes still struggling to open.  "It's time to go, sweetheart," said Fiora.  "We've finally arrived.  It's time to finally get off of this ship."

Fiora could see a slight trace of excitement through Fabiola's tiredness.  They'd been traveling away from Rome for almost a year now.  They were both eager to get on dry land and stay there.  Fabiola yawned again and dragged herself out of bed.  Fiora helped her daughter change into her street clothes.  "I've already packed our things.  Don't worry," said Fiora.  She straightened Fabiola's dress, looked her over, and nodded in satisfaction.  She grabbed her luggage, and took her daughter's hand.  "Alright, sweetheart," she said.  "Andiamo."  Fabiola yawned again, and the two left their cabin.

They reached the deck of the ship.  Fiora tossed a few coins to the captain, and they walked off the boat.  Once they reached the docks, both of them, even the tired Fabiola, looked in awe at the great city of Constantinople.  The buildings soared into the skies.  The colors and patterns glittered in the moonlight.  People from all across the world scattered about.  Dozens of different languages combined into a cacophony of voices.  "It's so beautiful, Mama!" said Fabiola.

"Yes.  It really is," said Fiora with a smile.

"Is this really going to be our new home, Mama?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"I'm going to miss Roma."  Fiora's face saddened.  "I know, Fabiola.  As will I.  But this is our home now.  We'll start a new life here, together."

"Okay, Mama."  A slight smile appeared on the girl's face, but her sadness still shined through.  Fiora felt awful.  She hated having to drag her daughter away from their hometown, but she knew they could never stay, and they might never be able to return.  The Templars were determined to kill Fiora for her betrayal to their order, and for her conversion to the Assassins.  Going back would mean certain death for her and her daughter.  "Come on," said Fiora with a comforting smile.  "Let's go find a place to spend the rest of the night."  Fabiola nodded and yawned.  They continued through the city.

Fiora felt bad for dragging Fabiola out of bed this late.  The girl wasn't as used to the night as she was.  Fiora had grown accustomed to the night life.  During her days as a professional courtesan, the majority of her clients came in at night.  The night was also the perfect time to strike at the Assassins, and now at the Templars.  But Fabiola was only six, and she needed her sleep.

Fiora thought of where to go.  The best place to permanently settle down would be in the Galata district.  The Assassins made that area their main base, and they would protect them and help them find a place.  But that wasn't an option right now, as that would require crossing the massive river that was the Golden Horn.  They'd just gotten off of a ship, and it was late.  They'd have to wait until the next day.

Eventually, they reached the massive marketplace known as the Grand Bazaar.  If it were daytime, it would've been much more crowded, but as of now, it wasn't as lively.  As they wondered about, Fabiola bumped into someone.  Fiora turned her head to see a woman with dark-red hair in a nice green dress.  Fabiola rubbed her eyes and looked up at the woman.  "Siamo spiacenti, signora," she said.  The woman just smiled as she picked up the bag she dropped.  "Oh, it's quite alright, caro."  Fiora's eyes widened a bit at hearing the woman speak Italian.

"You poor girl," the woman said to Fabiola, seeing her tired state.  "What are you two doing out so late?"

"We just got off of a ship," said Fiora.  "The captain would've kicked us overboard if we stayed any longer."

"Oh my."

"Yes.  Right now we're just looking for a place to stay the night."  The woman smiled.  "Well, if you'd like, I have a few spare rooms at my home that you could stay in."  Fiora's eyes widened again.  "Really?" she asked.  "You'd do that?"

"Of course!  I couldn't just let you and your poor daughter wander around the city all night.  And it's not like I'm using the rooms.  What do you say?"  Fiora smiled.  "Of course!" she said.  "Thank you so much, miss...?"

"Sofia.  Sofia Sartor."

"Thank you Sofia."

"Thank you, miss Sartor," said Fabiola, who rubbed her eyes again.  Sofia smiled at her.  "You're welcome, dear," she said.  She turned back to Fiora.  "And might I ask for your names?" she asked.

"Fiora Cavazza," said Fiora.  She placed a hand on Fabiola's shoulder.  "And this is Fabiola, my daughter."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," said Sofia.  She waved for them to follow.  "Come along.  My place is this way.  Fiora and Fabiola nodded, and followed her down the streets.  "Where are you from?" asked Sofia, making small talk.

"Rome."

"Ah, Roma.  I've heard things have been improving greatly there since the Borgia have been taken out of power."  Fiora felt disgusted at hearing that name, but she kept it hidden.  "Yes.  It has," she said.  "Fabiola and I just needed a new change of scenery."  Sofia nodded in understanding.  "What about you?" asked Fiora.

"I'm Venetian, but I was born here in Constantinople.  My family moved back to Venice when I was a teenager to avoid the conflict with the Ottomans."

"But you came back?"

Sofia smiled.  "Sì.  Years later, I came back home and started running my family's book shop again."

"You run a book shop?"

"Yes.  And business is booming!"

"That's great to hear."

"Grazie."

The three walked a little further.  They turned a few corners.  "So, what were you doing out this late?" Fiora asked Sofia.

"Oh, I stayed up all night working on a few projects," Sofia replied.  "I ran out of a few supplies so I came out and bought some more."

"I see."

The three eventually came to a small, but tall building.  "Here we are," said Sofia.  "Casa dolce casa."  She pulled a key out of her bag and opened the door.  She led Fiora and Fabiola inside.  They found themselves in what Fiora assumed was Sofia's book shop.  There was a desk with several papers scattered on it.  Most of the space was taken up by bookshelves, many of which were full.  "The rooms are upstairs," said Sofia.  "Just put your bags down anywhere."

Fiora placed her luggage in a corner.  She turned to her daughter.  She was sitting in a chair and looked about ready to head back to sleep.  Fiora walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.  "Fabiola, why don't you go dress for bed?" she said.  Fabiola nodded and yawned.  "Okay, Mama," she said.  The girl stood, and got her night clothes from within her luggage.  "You can change in one of the rooms upstairs, dear," Sofia said to her.

"Grazie, miss Sartor."  Fabiola grabbed her night clothes and went up the stairs.  "She seems like a nice little girl," said Sofia.

"She is," replied Fiore.  "She's my world."

"Who is the father, if you don't mind me asking?"  Fiora felt a chill run down her spine.  She knew full well who the father was.  The man she once adored, and the one she now cursed.  The man that Ezio Auditore threw off of a castle wall in 1507.  The man who led the Templars and nearly destroyed Rome.  Cesare Borgia.  Fiora despised the man after everything he did to her.  Once Fabiola was born, Fiora swore she would do everything she could to make sure that her daughter turned out to be nothing like the despicable Templar.

"It's... a rough subject for me," Fiora said.  "I'd rather not talk about it."  Sofia nodded.  "Don't worry.  I understand.  I'll leave it be," she said.  "Still.  Your daughter seems like a sweet girl.  You've raised her well."  Fiora looked at her and smiled.  "Thank you," she said.  "I try my best."  Sofia smiled back.  "What about you?" asked Fiora.  "Do you have anyone special in your life?"

Sofia chuckled.  "Oh, no.  No, I don't.  I've not yet met anyone that I truly like."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find someone eventually."  Sofia smiled.  "Perhaps," she said.  Suddenly, Fabiola came walking back down the stairs.  She had her night clothes on and she rubbed her eyes.  "I'm ready, Mama," she said.

"Alright, sweetheart.  I'm coming."  She nodded to Sofia, who returned the nod.  Fiora walked over to her daughter and the two walked upstairs.  They found a small, nice room with a window.  Fabiola flopped into bed.  Fiora pulled the covers over her daughter.  "Good night, tesoro," she said.

"Good night, Mama."  Within moments, Fabiola was fast asleep.  Fiora looked at her daughter, and then walked over to the window.  She looked out at the gorgeous city of Constantinople.  She would leave for Galata tomorrow afternoon.  There, they would find the Assassins, who would get them settled.  But for now, she just enjoyed this rare moment of peace.  There were no Templars to run from.  There were no ships to defend from pirates.  It was just her and her daughter, and that's all she could ever want.

She closed the curtains on the window.  She walked over and gently kissed her daughter on the forehead.  She walked towards the door.  She took one last look in the room.  "Welcome to Constantinople, Fabiola," she whispered.  "Welcome home."  She closed the door and let her daughter sleep in peace.