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The suitcase was a bit noisy today, but Vertin had long anticipated this. Every new visitor inevitably sparked a chorus of chattering welcomes and discussions. It wasn't a bad thing. This was her suitcase, not the rigid and stern Foundation. Solemn, formal welcome ceremonies were hardly helpful and mostly just made guests feel awkward.
The number of travelling companions grew with each passing day, and the once-quiet suitcase became livelier and livelier. While the atmosphere felt somewhat unfamiliar, it put her at ease.
But today… it seemed a bit too lively.
She set down her fountain pen, gazing curiously at the sturdy wooden door of her study. Her old friend was doing its best to block out the conversation from outside, but with little success.
She trusted that nothing truly chaotic could happen inside her suitcase – and even if it did, she'd already seen far bigger messes. Compared to the rock pirates' unapproved, impromptu tour, the commotion caused by a single visitor was utterly trivial. But after some consideration, she decided to go see the situation for herself and, if necessary, rescue that assassin from the crowd of onlookers.
In fact, there weren't as many spectators as she had imagined – just Vila and her students, along with Sonetto, who was also from Italy (and had likewise been drawn by the talking). But the racket they were making really was a bit excessive. However, the moment she saw who was standing at the center of the group, she instantly understood why such a vigorous discussion could erupt from this small circle of just a few people.
"Quite a surprise to see you here, Leonardo."
Leonardo looked rather startled, but Vila, standing in front of him, greeted her naturally. "Good afternoon, Comrade!" She walked towards Vertin, beaming, with Avgust and Nina close behind her. "To think we'd one day get to meet Mr. da Vinci in person…"
"'Just Leonardo is fine,'" Ezio, who had been left hanging on the sidelines for a while, suddenly interjected, seizing the chance to slip over to Leonardo's side. He crossed his arms and grinned teasingly at his friend. "I bet you were about to say that again, weren't you?"
"You stole my line," Leonardo shook his head helplessly. "Yes, Vila, no need for such formality. I prefer a more casual address."
"Oh, alright, Mr. D… Leonardo."
"Kinda makes me want to try calling you that too."
"I'd advise against it, Messere Auditore da Firenze."
Ezio shut his mouth, looking utterly unruffled.
"So, can you teach us how to draw? Like Miss Vila does." Nina blinked her adorable big eyes and asked expectantly, "You were talking so happily earlier. Even though I didn't really understand all those long terms, I’m sure you're a really amazing art teacher too."
"In Rayashki, Miss Vila told us about you," Avgust added. "She said you draw even better than her, much better."
"I'm afraid there's no time now, children." Vila rubbed the brown-haired girl's head with one hand and pulled Avgust's small shoulder close with the other, "We have to return to the Foundation soon. Remember? We only came to the suitcase for an art lesson. History class is next. You can ask your teacher about the Renaissance then."
Avgust nodded, though he didn't seem to fully understand. But Nina's head drooped in disappointment. Leonardo seemed reluctant to part ways too. He crouched down, took Nina's small hand, and brought his eyes level with hers. "Don't be sad, I'm not refusing your invitation," he said with a gentle smile, "If there's a chance in the future, we can go sketch in the Wilderness together, I promise. Alright?"
"I'll make sure he keeps his promise," Ezio assured her as well.
Nina, now happy with two promises, gave a crisp, standard Young Pioneer salute. Leonardo, who had never seen such a gesture before, flustered tried to mimic it, returning a rather clumsy salute. In high spirits, Vila led the two children away. Ezio was chuckling at his friend's embarrassed expression, only stopping when Leonardo, now standing, gave his single-sided cape a reproachful tug.
"Timekeeper. " Sonetto called out cautiously.
"My apologies, Vertin. This was my doing," Ezio finally adopted a more serious expression, "As we've seen, your suitcase is… miraculous. It defies explanation even by the science of our time, so incredible it's beyond my comprehension. Leonardo is just as curious as I am. I didn't mean to cause chaos in your domain. I was sure my friend would be remembered by history, but I never imagined it would be… such a prominent legacy."
"If you plan on visiting multiple times in the future, you'll probably have to get used to this sort of situation," Sonetto kindly reminded them, "Most people won't react as calmly as Ma’am Vila did."
"Am I really that famous?" Leonardo massaged his temples.
"Well, you're the first artist introduced in the lower-grade textbooks of School of Primary Defense of Mankind," Sonetto said, thinking for a moment. "That is to say, if you stopped a child and asked them to name an artist, the first name they'd likely give is yours."
Ezio waved a hand, gleefully adding, "No wonder when Sotheby mentioned your name earlier, even the usually elegant Barcarola couldn't help but gasp – 'prominent legacy,' indeed."
He was rewarded with a glare from Leonardo.
"Speaking of which," Vertin interjected, recalling a detail from the earlier conversation, "have you two already been to the Wilderness?"
"Not yet," Ezio replied, tilting his head a little awkwardly. "But we ran into Vila when they had just returned from there. To be honest, it's my first time knowing girls from the north can be so… enthusiastic…"
The image, voice, and smile of Lylia and her mount popped unbidden into Vertin's mind, making her expression turn somewhat strange.
"Timekeeper?" Sonetto asked, concerned.
"I'm fine. Just remembered someone." Vertin adjusted her hat brim nonchalantly. Sonetto looked at her quizzically - of everyone present, only this loyal assistant knew this was Vertin's tell-tale sign of feeling uneasy.
"The Wilderness is west of the lake. I've recently rearranged it a bit. I think you'll like it."
…
Leonardo looked around, stunned, scarcely able to believe his eyes. He was standing in front of the "Florence Cathedral", with the imposing "Giotto's Campanile" beside him. Even the flower cart filled with petals behind him was identical to the one in his memory, as if he had never left Florence.
He looked further into the distance and soon spotted the murky canal, with a few gondolas piloted by gentle breezes drifting in the middle. The dock at the canal's end lacked its usual guards and was coated in a thin layer of golden sunset light, reminding him of his first, adventure-filled days in Venice.
He sighed. Troubles were always plentiful, especially in Venice – the guards there were more troublesome than in Florence, because their masters weren't named Lorenzo de' Medici. But then he cheered up again. Thankfully, there was Ezio. He was always good at solving troubles.
Wait. Where was Ezio?
Leonardo looked around again but couldn't spot the familiar assassin's robes, realizing he had been lost in thought for a bit too long.
Suddenly, an eagle's cry pierced the quiet sky, and he instinctively turned—
Poof!
Vibrant petals were sent flying by the disturbance, experiencing their second bloom in a lifetime. The flurry of pink made Leonardo jerk his head back and retreat half a step. By the time he looked back, Ezio had poked his head out from amidst the petals, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.
"You looked worried, Leonardo. If you're looking for me, a piece of advice: look up more often."
Leonardo maintained a deadpan expression as he took off his hat and brushed off the petals that had settled on it. "A perfectly executed prank. You win, Ezio."
The artist tried to take another step back, but the man adorned with roses grabbed his sleeve. Annoyed, he looked up, only to meet Ezio's innocent gaze. "But you were spacing out, wouldn't chat with me, wouldn't even glance my way. Your mind always seems so busy. But today, we're not in Florence, not in Venice, not in Monteriggioni – we're in the suitcase. No Altair's Codex pages here, no weapons needing improvements. Just me. It's a day off, we should enjoy it properly." Ezio reached out with his other hand and gently plucked a precarious rose petal from his friend's shoulder.
Leonardo remained unmoved. He seized the moment to raise his hand and take a step back.
And just like that, the Assassin Master, who had been abruptly pulled from the cart, let out a sharp cry of surprise. A moment later, he steadied himself. Though his knees were still perched on the edge of the cart's sideboard, the weight of his upper body was now fully supported in Leonardo's arms. Leonardo held Ezio's shoulder firmly with one hand. Ezio thrashed about unwillingly like a stranded fish for a second before immediately giving up – while Leonardo was no fighter, he was indeed physically stronger.
The assassin, resigned to his fate, placed both hands on his friend's waist. "This posture is hardly elegant, my maestro. Vertin never said we wouldn't run into anyone else here…"
"Oh, that would be terrible," Leonardo raised his eyebrows, "then they'd see the high-and-mighty Assassin Master hiding in a flower cart, who not only ambushed his best friend but is also holding him by the waist, trapping him so he can't move…"
"Leonardo!"
"We're even."
Leonardo took another step back, allowing Ezio to find his footing on the sideboard. But the moment Ezio's toes touched the plank, that mischievous grin reappeared. He shielded the back of Leonardo's head with one hand, gave a light push-off with his feet, and sent the wide-eyed artist tumbling to the ground. "Still, I win," he declared, pulling his hand out from where it had cushioned Leonardo's head, and burst out laughing.
"You…" Leonardo deliberated for a long moment but ultimately couldn't find the right word. He glanced at his red beret, which had rolled some distance away, then looked back at Ezio, covered in petals and grinning foolishly. Finally, he decided to let his brain truly enjoy this day off and met Ezio's stunting laughter with a soft smile of his own.
As if they had never left Florence.
…
As evening approached, the number of figures in the suitcase quietly increased.
Barcarola was enthusiastically recounting her experience to the belatedly arrived Fatutu, describing the eye-catchingly dressed assassin and his famous artist friend (though, of course, the focus remained largely on the latter, as the former's musical taste was truly lamentable), and how her Crackling Box had earned her his generous praise. Sonetto, standing nearby, occasionally chimed in with historical context.
Aboard the Free Breeze, this renowned Sweetheart of the Seas had met all sorts of high-profile individuals. The Suitcase also housed scions of noble families from various eras. But a name that had endured through the pages of history held a far greater allure than any temporary prominence. Fatutu listened intently. Though she didn't fully grasp the meaning of most proper nouns, she understood that Barcarola’s new friends held great significance for her, because she herself had once chattered just as endlessly when introducing her own new friends to her brother.
At some point, Sonetto quietly excused herself from the conversation and slowly moved closer to Vertin. The joy on her face was evident; she had clearly enjoyed the discussion immensely. What was it that Liang Yue had said? 'When fellow countrymen meet, their eyes well up with tears'(老乡见老乡，两眼泪汪汪)? Vertin merely blinked, and her loyal assistant was already standing silently by her side. Sonetto looked back somewhat wistfully in the direction she had come from but chose to say nothing.
"Sonetto," Vertin broke the silence that felt out of place amidst the surrounding chatter, "what are your impressions of Ezio?"
Sonetto was startled internally, but she was used to the Timekeeper's constant pop quizzes and quickly organized her answer. "Mr. Auditore? He's confident, reliable, well-mannered, and witty, humorous, yet steady… I hope it's not offensive to say, but I think he still retains a certain… childishness?" she ventured cautiously with the last word.
Vertin turned to her in surprise.
"Mr. Auditore is a approachable man. I gathered that much from your previous descriptions," Sonetto hurriedly explained. "I used to think this approachability was amiability of an elder. But after meeting him in person, I realized I was wrong – he reminds me of you when you were younger, quick-witted and sharp; and he also reminds me of the children running through the streets of London, seemingly carefree and without worries."
Vertin seemed thoughtful.
"Carefree and without worries…" She lifted her gaze and happened to spot the two figures – one in white, one in red – appearing once again not far away. This time, they seemed to be deliberately avoiding the crowd. They were carrying things, seemingly busy with some task. Leonardo suddenly nudged Ezio gently with his elbow, prompting Ezio to retaliate by leaning his head heavily on the other's shoulder, forcing him to stop and stare helplessly at the head stubbornly resting on him. Their playful antics were a far cry from the impression Vertin had of them in Florence, and she couldn't help but smile. "You're right, Sonetto."
Pain can make a child stop growing, but so can happiness.
"Also, he's a man of action, like you," Sonetto suddenly added, as if mustering her courage.
"Why do you say that?" Vertin asked, curious.
"Before you came to check on the situation, Mr. Da Vinci requested to stay the night in the suitcase. But due to a lack of necessary registration procedures, and also… well, the former temporary guest room has been converted into a… picrasma candy storage vault. So he couldn't be assigned a room alone." Sonetto hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Finally, on Sotheby's strong suggestion, Mr. Auditore decided to invite his friend to stay in his room instead."
Vertin's pupils underwent a seismic shift.
"Wait, they're staying the night, correct?"
"Yes."
"Did anyone tell him that the rooms here only have single beds?"
"Sotheby reminded them. But they didn't seem bothered. And Mr. Auditore has already started moving an easel, paints, and mechanical parts into their room. It seems this arrangement might be… semi-permanent."
Now Vertin knew what they had been busy moving earlier. The grey-haired girl from England rubbed her furrowed brow in frustration. The situation seemed to be galloping headlong in a direction she had never anticipated.
"Sonetto, what would you estimate is the probability of them staying up all night?"
"…?"
"Regardless, we need to prepare a separate room for that artist."