Chapter 117 Chapter 117 Even the whole of Europe is deeply...
Elio's expression froze.
This was a serious accusation, especially for a Sicilian who harbored ambitions for Italian unification. After all, to reunite northern and southern Italy, with all Italians living under one kingdom, they would first have to expel the Austrians to the north and the Spanish to the south.
Giotto's smile also disappeared.
But it wasn't the anger of being accused, nor the shame of being exposed, but rather a kind of tolerant and transcendent calm. If he had just been in a relaxed posture, with only his hands resting on the table, now he had seriously placed both arms on the table, leaning forward to look at Virgil.
"I understand your doubts, Master," Giotto said sincerely. "If I heard that someone supported Giuseppe Mazzini and also had friendly relations with the Austrians and Spaniards, I would also doubt his loyalty. But what good would that do me? No matter which side ultimately wins, neither side will truly treat me well! The rulers will only regard my flattery as justified and punish me for my secret rebellion; the idealists will only think I am a fence-sitter who is playing both sides and will be eager to distance themselves from me and even hang me on the cross!"
"No intelligent person would do that," the Assassin's Mentor said slowly. His gaze was deep and fixed on Giotto, who was analysing the pros and cons. If Elio hadn't perceived that they were engaged in a heated debate, the Assassin would have mistaken the fleeting glint in his eye for admiration.
"Unless he is a wise realist," said Giotto, "unless he realizes that the expulsion of the rulers cannot be achieved by the strength of Sicilians alone, nor by the strength of Italians alone, no matter how powerful we may be—no matter how powerful we may wish our ideals to be!"
"Unless he realizes," Virgil said, "we should—we must use all the strength we can, unite all the forces we can. I agree with you on that part, Vongola, that's why we need to seek help from Britain and France. As enemies of our enemies, they might be able to help; but we must never seek help from our direct enemies. If someone were to do something like that, I would simply say they've lost their mind and walked into a trap."
"Forgive my correction, Master, but I would say, 'We must actively seek help, even if they appear to be our enemies,'" Giotto said. "You must understand that some things have nothing to do with nationality. An Austrian could support Italian unification, a Spaniard could denounce the Bourbons, an Englishman could advocate for American independence; their rulers would surely be shocked to hear such outrageous views! But this is by no means a betrayal of their country; in my opinion, it's simply the act of a good person acting in accordance with their conscience."
There was a brief silence.
Elio was the first to react, but he could still feel that Giotto's deafening speech was like a carriage loaded with cargo and rushing forward, and almost everyone present was knocked to the ground by him, stunned for a moment (except Virgil, who just stared at Giotto with an unfathomable expression, no one knew what he was thinking).
"Sweet talk!" Luigi was the first to break the silence, and the young assassin's face flushed. "If you say so, they are all traitors! How can such a thing have nothing to do with nationality? This is war! If I were to ask you, Giotto Vongola, you are the first Sicilians to—"
Elio was about to interrupt. Whatever Luigi was about to say, it wasn't going to be nice. But before he could take a step forward and speak—and he was quick enough—the Master Assassin stopped him.
"Luigi," Virgil said gravely.
This was the first time Elio heard Virgil order the assassin in such an authoritative tone, and he was shocked (does this mean that his previous harsh words to Giotto were all fake? Elio suddenly began to doubt this).
Regardless, the Assassin Master's words immediately silenced the restless Assassins. Despite his expression of disbelief, Luigi obediently shut his mouth and jerked his head away, seemingly signaling his disapproval by saying, "I'm not looking at Giotto."
"The Vongola is our guest," Virgil said, looking around. "No matter what ideas he shared with me during our 'ideological discussion' just now, we should not judge him. Everyone here should be aware of the great contributions he and his militia have made to the cause of Italian unification. This is beyond doubt."
Giotto nodded calmly, "My pleasure."
Virgil turned to Giotto, "I owe you an apology for this young man's inappropriate behavior, Vongola."
But it was obvious that Luigi felt even more ashamed of his mentor apologizing on his behalf. This was something the assassin could not tolerate, so he quickly turned his face back to Giotto and whispered, "I'm sorry, Mr. Vongola."
"Never mind," Giotto replied magnanimously, "I have heard worse."
He didn't turn around, but patted Elio's arm, which hung at his side, perhaps noticing Elio's movements. Elio said nothing, simply placing his hand on his shoulder. This was a strong signal, or at least that's what the assassin across from him thought.
Except for Maria, who just had a worried look on her face, mixed with a complicated expression of thought. But Luigi shot him a genuinely intense look, as if he thought Elio was a traitor.
Elio glanced at him calmly, then looked away. The air still lingered with the faint smog of war, but Giotto and Virgil had already reached a tacit understanding. They pretended their earlier argument hadn't happened and resumed their discussion—this time focusing on Giuseppe's "safety." They exchanged views on the current situation in Sicily and even reached a consensus to help each other.
Obviously, this was something that was difficult for Luigi to understand.
Seeing that the mentor who had just been questioning Giotto was suddenly chatting with him in a very pleasant manner, the young assassin seemed extremely confused and even suspected that he had missed something; could it be that the conversation just now that was almost involving knives and guns was really just some kind of "conceptual discussion"?
But as two underground organizations that secretly supported Giuseppe Mazzini and the unification of Italy, this was inevitable. Giotto and Virgil had a great conversation, and at the end, Virgil even stood up and saw him off, all the way to the door.
There, they smiled and shook hands again. But Virgil didn't let go of Giotto immediately. Instead, he whispered, "That's... a very bold statement, Vongola. Bold, but brilliant and full of courage. I beg your pardon for not agreeing with it in public."
Giotto's eyes gleamed, and he firmly returned the Assassin's Master's hand. He didn't waste time offering polite thanks. Instead, he stated bluntly and honestly, "Elio doesn't understand this. Please don't be too hard on him."
Virgil smiled. "I was wondering why he liked you so much. Looks like this is the reason."
Giotto smiled too. They shook hands again, then released each other.
"Please send it here," Giotto said playfully, regaining his normal voice. "I heard from Giuseppe that you don't like to go out much."
"Please forgive an old man with limited mobility!" Virgil said humorously. "Even if he wanted to take you back, he couldn't. Elio, are you willing to do this for him?"
Elio, who was following behind them with Maria and the others, raised an eyebrow. He looked intently at Virgil, and the wise mentor smiled at him, as if his request was just a casual one. But Elio knew it wasn't a casual one.
"I do, Master," Elio said.
Virgil nodded. Elio murmured a thank you as they passed. Virgil, as if hearing nothing, simply smiled and watched them walk out. The stone wall slowly closed. The Assassin Mentor stared at the wall for a moment, lost in thought, before turning to face the group of Assassins.
They were also looking up at him silently, like students waiting for their teacher to explain.
"Well," Virgil re-entered their midst, "it's time for free speech."
Suddenly, the assassins, who had long suppressed their doubts, erupted in a boisterous chatter. They followed their mentor closely, following him back into the hall; there, the high chairs and long tables had been removed, leaving only cushions, pillows, and books. Virgil brewed tea himself, listened to each of them speak, and smiled slightly.
"One at a time," Virgil said patiently. "First..."
While the assassins were discussing their earlier "ideological discussion," Elio and Giotto were also discussing a similar topic. However, since there were only two of them, they naturally had fewer opinions and could exchange ideas more quickly.
"There's a reason he can't agree with you publicly," Elio told him. "From what I understand, the Assassin Order demands absolute loyalty and discipline from its members. They're trained in a way that's 'honorable' and never betrays the Order. Traitors must pay with death. This is a phenomenon that arose from the struggle with the Templars."
"Oh, I understand now," Giotto mused. "He can't agree with me because that would be digging his own grave. But when you put it that way, it sounds as if you disagree."
Elio muttered, "I thought I was being objective enough."
Giotto laughed, "Come on, don't I know you?"
Elio couldn't help but laugh, but soon his expression turned serious.
"I believe staying alive is the most important thing," Elio said. "Only by living can there be hope, but sometimes, the price of living is too high. I cannot wholeheartedly agree with the rules of the Assassin Order, but I know in my heart that they have no better choice in this battle. Giotto, if one day..."
But Giotto immediately interrupted him.
"Don't say that, Elio," he said, squeezing Elio's shoulder gently. "Don't say that. And don't doubt yourself unnecessarily. Virgil has always been a very reasonable old man, and you are one of the wisest people I have ever met. I never doubt that you could make the wrong decision."
Elio saw his eyes and knew how determined Giotto was to this statement. He shook his head helplessly, but smiled again.
"Come on, Giotto, everyone makes mistakes."
"And everyone deserves a second chance," Giotto concluded. Elio didn't argue, but simply smiled and put his hand on his shoulder.
On that day, the Vongola Self-Defense Force and the Assassin Brotherhood reached a collaboration. With their covert support, the Sicilians' gradually awakening cries, and the Italians' growing aspirations, Mazzini's ideals quickly took root in a land so ravaged by the ruling class; his followers, like dandelion seeds, spread across Italy on the wind.
Under the long-term oppression of the Bourbon dynasty, facing the plight of hunger and cold, and simmering with rising "Sicilian" sentiment, a restless Palermo entered the historic year of 1848. January 12th was Ferdinand II's birthday. If history had previously brushed aside this day—if it had to record the birthdays of all kings, history itself would have lost track—then, after this day, the events of this day were deeply remembered throughout Palermo, Sicily, Italy, and even Europe.
If they forgot, then they really should remember.
On January 12, 1848, the first gunshots broke out on the streets of Palermo.
When the news reached the Triskelion Inn, Virgil suddenly stood up. "People aren't ready!" he worried. But he still ordered all Assassins to leave their base immediately and join the street fighting. "Don't worry about my life at this time," the Assassin Master said. "No one can afford the consequences of this failure!"
The assassins who had rushed out of the hotel immediately dispersed in all directions, diving into the network of streets and alleys of Palermo. Among them, a few elite assassins headed for the key locations guarded by Bourbon soldiers.
The news also reached the Vongola Manor. Giotto slammed his desk and immediately began mobilizing troops. Gatling led the militia into the streets. Lambo refused to stay and tearfully entered the battlefield. Knuckles tended to the wounded in the rear.
"Elio!" Giotto shouted.
Elio burst into Giotto's office, slamming the door aside. The assassin's face was pale, but his eyes gleamed with fire. Giotto saw that he was clutching a letter in his hand.
"I have direct orders from the Master, Giotto," Elio said quickly, "I cannot—"
Giotto interrupted him and asked directly, "Doge?"
Elio was stunned for a moment, then immediately confirmed, "Governor."
Giotto looked at him, his eyes also blazing with fire.
"Go," Giotto said to him, "the faster the better!"
A few hours later, the governor was assassinated. The Bourbon soldiers, devastated by the tragedy, were forced to retreat. The assassins, the militia, and countless Sicilians armed with hunting rifles, old rifles, knives, and stones stood there in a daze, unable to react.
A strange, deafening silence fell over the street, broken only by the crackling of burning objects and the groans of the wounded, all covered in dust and bruises.
Giotto, gun in hand, was the first to realize what had happened. He suddenly burst into laughter, dropped his gun, and even stood up from the cover of the barricade! Gatlin, standing by, was horrified, but there was no time to stop Giotto. In fact, he had never been able to stop Giotto from doing anything reckless.
So, Giotto nimbly climbed onto the top of the nearest overturned carriage and opened his arms. Everyone stared at him in amazement, seeing the afterglow of the setting sun shining on his excited face, making it flushed and radiant.
"Long live Sicily!" Giotto shouted.
The people who finally reacted stood up one after another. They excitedly hugged and kissed each other, shouting, "Long live Sicily!!!"
Gatlin, of course, climbed up as well, dragging the collapsed Rambo with him. Giotto smiled as he grabbed them, and when he looked up, his keen intuition told him that there was something worth noting on the roof.
Amid the crowd's cheers, Joe looked over. He saw Elio, who had hurried over, sitting down on the roof, his hood removed. They smiled at each other.
On January 12, the defeated Bourbon army retreated to the coastal fortresses.
On January 26, Palermo forced the Bourbon army to retreat. Ferdinand II was forced to withdraw.
On January 27, an armed march in Naples forced Ferdinand II to form a new cabinet.
On February 25, the July Monarchy was overthrown in Paris, France, and the Second French Republic was established. They realized the unfinished ideals of Enjolras and others in Les Miserables.
On March 17, a five-day battle broke out in Milan, successfully expelling the Austrian army. Venice declared the restoration of the Republic.
On March 23, the Kingdom of Sardinia declared war on Austria.
In April, a provisional committee was established in Sicily, which announced the complete abdication of the Bourbon King Ferdinand II's rule in Sicily.
From March to May 1848, rebellions broke out in various parts of Europe. Even much later, when they looked back on this period of history, no one could deny that it was the most thrilling and turbulent six months in their lives.
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The author has something to say: Let me first say that this is a fictional history of "Katekyo Hitman Reborn" combined with Assassin's Creed. It is not real [dog head] and if you don't know much about this fictional history, just know that they are against feudalism and imperialism!
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