Work Text:
Count,
Against all my reasons I do rejoice over Sixtus’ death, but it’s for you that I let my feelings run wild, not for Lorenzo, not even for Florence. God knows how I wish I could tell you what Florence has become. I don’t know what exactly happened in his days with the Turks, but Lorenzo is not the man I knew. He has become a tyrant, and with that, gone is Florence’s air of freedom which I once held most dear. We still have democracy, but with a shit-faced monarch people’s will to participate in the State’s affairs is dying.
This place is no longer home, not for me. I blame Lorenzo for this, though that’s most probably the last thing I should do. Of all people, I should be the one to back him up. But I can’t, not when he destroys Florence, MY Florence. I’m leaving. Sooner or later, Florence will lose her unique beauty, and I simply cannot live to see that happen.
Not that I have in mind anywhere to go to. I’m thinking of Milan but am not sure if they would take an artist of ill fame. Rome seems an equally nice choice not that you are in charge. Either way, I will visit you in person and let you know my decision.
As you can see, I am no Saint. I guess we all have great potentials, but actually achieving it seems a mission just impossible to complete. Your Sinner once accused me of building killing machines that brings about massacres, while he murdered only a few. I argued that the ideas were stolen from my mind, but now that you are in whole, I confess that I do know, crystal clear, that it was me who made it all possible in the first place. The worst part is, however, in case you don’t remember that night in Florence, that I, although just for a very short time, did feel proud for my work. That day in Otranto, when I saw the Turks washing the city’s streets with blood of Christians, for one dark moment I was thrilled to find my designs proved fully functioning and useful.
I never expected that to happen. All my life I announced myself a peace lover. I refused to see what wrong I could’ve done, even when I’ve already seen it. It was YOU who made me face the truth. Your worst side, even, as your Saint called it. I have sinned, as much as you did, and more. Therefore, if I can live with what I’ve done, so can you. killing that false Pope most certainly doesn’t add to your crime. Quite the contrary if you ask me. So feel free to deny it even if someone did get so mad to confront you. You are no murderer, not on this matter.
I will keep a close eye on the Architect. But mind you, stay away from me. From your words I can tell you are not at One with the Labyrinth, never did, never will do. Should the Architect find about this, which I fear he will, in time, he wouldn’t hesitate to do you harm. You who could’ve been his best tool at hand. Do keep alarmed. Send for me should anything worry you. On second thought, with this very letter I’m sending Nico. Thanks to you he has become a better Machiavelli than his father. He’ll keep an eye out for you so that you’d have someone to trust when I’m not around. Commission Sixtus’ funeral to me. He wanted my service, and he shall have it.
Lots of love,
Artista