[Location: Palazzo Auditore, Florence]
Dawn came before I could even pretend to fall asleep.
I think I blinked once—once—and suddenly the entire world was filled with the chiming of bells, the chirping of birds, and the distinct, horrifying sound of Federico's war cry from down the hall.
"DAAAANTE! RISE AND SHIIIIIINE!"
Oh no.
Oh no no no—
My door slammed open with the subtlety of a siege ram.
Federico Auditore—Twelve, obnoxiously athletic, and the human embodiment of a Renaissance golden retriever—burst in like it was Judgement Day.
He grinned.
I died.
"Up!" he barked cheerfully, grabbing my blanket and ripping it away with the flourish of a magician revealing a corpse. "Father said to make sure you're awake."
"Federico, it's—" I croaked, rubbing my eyes, "—it's still night."
Night?
Night??
Me, an idiot with a soul not designed for pre-sunrise suffering? Absolutely.
Federico Auditore?
He stared at me like I'd personally insulted the concept of dawn.
"Night?" he scoffed. "That's just morning with commitment."
I wanted to commit him to something. A grave, preferably.
He clapped his hands loudly—too loudly. My ears rang.
"Up, up, up! Father said before sunrise, not 'when Dante finally stops whining.'"
"I wasn't whining," I muttered.
"You're whining now."
I opened my mouth to argue, but—
"AAAAAAARGH!"
Ezio exploded into the doorway like a gremlin kicked into consciousness. Hair everywhere. Shirt half-tucked. Face twisted in agony.
"WHY IS THERE NO SLEEP IN THIS HOUSE?" he demanded from the heavens.
Federico thumped him on the back. "Rise, brother! Dante needs support."
Ezio stared at me with dead eyes.
"I hope you fall," he whispered.
"Ezio," I said flatly, "you literally kept me up last night."
"I regret nothing."
Federico dragged me upright by my wrist. "Come on, soldier. Time to build muscles."
"I am eight," I argued weakly.
"And small," he said sympathetically. "Like a sad decorative breadstick."
He ruffled my hair. "We're fixing that."
I considered biting him.
But no—Giovanni Auditore had personally ordered me to the courtyard.
So off I went.
To die.
...
[Courtyard – Pre-Sunrise, AKA 'Hell O'Clock']
The courtyard was cold. Not 'brr, chilly' cold—no.
It was "my bones are suing me for emotional damage" cold.
The sky was still dark, with only the faintest hint of blue creeping in. The grass was damp with dew, the world quiet except for the occasional bird who clearly hated sleep as much as Federico did.
And standing in the center of the courtyard, arms crossed, eyes steady?
Giovanni Auditore.
Even in simple training clothes, he looked imposing—calm, focused, absolutely awake in a way no living organism should legally be at this hour.
He turned as we approached.
"Good," he said. "You're on time."
Lies.
I was dying. I was close to being on time.
Federico shoved me forward like a proud handler presenting a sacrificial goat.
"Dante is ready!"
"I'm not—"
"Excellent," Giovanni said, completely ignoring my attempt at survival. "We will begin with something simple."
Simple.
He said that with the confidence of a man who could run across rooftops without breaking a sweat.
Giovanni pointed toward the length of the courtyard.
"Run."
I blinked. "Where?"
He stared at me, unblinking. "Forward."
"…How far?"
"I will tell you when to stop."
That sounded dangerously open-ended.
Federico clapped me dramatically on the back, nearly sending me to God early. "Run fast! I'm timing you!"
"Why?!"
"To compare."
I stared at Federico, horrified."To compare what?" I demanded.
He gave me a radiant smile.
"Your suffering."
I inhaled sharply.I exhaled through despair.Federico was immune to shame.
Giovanni cleared his throat, the universal signal for stop being idiots.
"Dante," he said, voice calm and firm, "begin."
…Right.
Okay.
Running.
I could do that.
Probably.
I took a few hesitant steps forward, feeling the cold stone under my feet, my breath puffing visibly in the pre-dawn air.
Ezio shuffled to the side, arms wrapped around himself like he was mourning the concept of warmth.
"Go on, Dante," he muttered, half-yawning. "Bring honour to the family."
"You're not helping," I said.
"I am absolutely helping. I am awake at an hour God never intended. That alone is heroic."
Fair.
I squared my shoulders.
Giovanni nodded once.Federico raised his hand like the world's worst race official.
"Three…" he announced dramatically.
"Federico—"
"Two!"
"I'm not ready—"
"Oooone!"
"FEDERIC—"
"GO!"
I went.
Oh, I went.
My legs launched forward in a panicked, flailing sprint that felt less like controlled movement and more like gravity was dragging me by the eyebrows.
Cold air slapped me in the face.My feet thudded against the ground.My lungs immediately filed a complaint.
I made it—maybe—fifteen steps.
Then:
"HHHHRGH—"Which was supposed to be 'help', but my soul had left my body.
Behind me, I heard Ezio's faint, sympathetic clap.
"Well," he said, "at least he's trying."
"That was terrible," Federico added cheerfully. "Like a goose learning fear."
"I CAN HEAR YOU!" I wheezed, still somehow running.
Giovanni's voice cut through the courtyard—steady, guiding, unavoidable.
"Straighten your posture. Don't hunch. Keep breathing steady. A controlled pace is better than speed without purpose."
I tried to straighten.
My body said: no.
I tried to breathe evenly.
My lungs said: be realistic.
By the time I reached the end of the courtyard, my legs had begun the early stages of mutiny.
Giovanni raised one hand.
"Back."
BACK?
Back where?
BACK HOW MUCH??
Federico cupped his hands around his mouth."RUN, DANTE! RUN LIKE YOU OWE SOMEONE MONEY!"
I did NOT owe anyone money.
But apparently destiny wanted me to experience poverty-based cardio anyway.
I turned, trying to pace myself.
I truly did.
But my eight-year-old body was a pathetic, squishy compromise between noodles and regret.
Halfway back to Giovanni, I made a noise I can only describe as:
"HhHhRRkkk…"
Ezio winced."Is he dying?"
"Not yet," Federico said helpfully. "But it's beautiful to watch."
Giovanni ignored them entirely, watching me with the calm patience of a man who had trained assassins, soldiers, and probably wild animals.
I stumbled to a stop in front of him, gasping.
He nodded.
"As expected."
"As expected??" I wheezed. "I— I almost saw God."
"You need endurance," Giovanni said. "But we will build it in time."
"Time is a lie," I muttered.
He almost smiled.
Almost.
"Again," he said.
I blinked up at him.
"…Again??"
"Again."
Federico whooped.
Even Ezio sat down on the steps, resigned.
The sun still refused to rise out of pity.
And I—Dante Auditore, reincarnated gamer, future meddler of historical events, current sufferer—began running again.
...
Two rounds later:
I lay on the ground.
Dead.
Not metaphorically.
Spiritually, emotionally, existentially—
Dead.
The stones were cold, but honestly?
I had transcended earthly concerns.
Ezio leaned over me like a priest assessing whether a miracle was needed.
"You look like a murdered carrot."
I rasped, "Tell—Mother—I loved—the cheese—bread—"
Ezio nodded solemnly. "I'll tell her you died bravely."
Federico snorted. "He died stupidly."
"STUPIDLY BRAVE," Ezio corrected.
"That's not a thing."
"IT IS NOW."
Giovanni walked over, standing above me as I re-evaluated my existence.
He didn't laugh.
He didn't tease.
He didn't even sigh.
He simply offered his hand.
I stared at it like it might explode.
"Up," he said quietly. "You did well."
…What?
Well?
ME?
I took his hand, still wheezing like an asthmatic duck. He pulled me gently to my feet.
"This is enough running for today," he said. "Your body is still developing. We will build your stamina gradually."
Gradually.
Thank every deity in existence.
"We will proceed to something simpler now."
Simpler?
SIMPLER??
Like what??
Breathing???
Sitting???
Napping???
Giovanni stepped back, adjusted his stance—
—and raised his hands in a basic beginner's guard.
"We will practice footwork."
Oh no.
Oh god.
I wasn't going to die by running.
No.
No, fate had something far more painful planned.
I was going to die by learning how to move my feet.
Federico gasped dramatically.
Ezio cringed.
I prayed.
And Giovanni?
He simply said:
"Begin."
***
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