, updated tomorrow at 10 a.m. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 ｉｎｆｏ

――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

Giuliano opened his eyes angrily and horrified at his brother's shouts, and the last sight that came into his light brown iris was the butcher's knife held aloft in Bernardo Bandini's hand.

He didn't even have a chance to raise his arms in farrow, or let out one last roar and curse.

Bandini's strength was great, and the butcher's means of livelihood slashed straight into the forehead of the Medici's second son, Toshihide, like a real weapon, while the young Pacchi, who stood on the other side of the victim, clenched the little left-handed sword drawn from his sleeve and grabbed Giuliano's back like a hyena that had raided a zebra, and he stabbed and stabbed without pause - at the Bernardo. Bandini confirmed Giuliano's death, and then carefully woke up his friend, who was completely unable to control himself due to nervousness or agitation, before the sword in his left hand was stabbed enough to create a large sieve for macaroni.

Patch stood up dizzily, the reddish hot liquid soaked through the light velvet, and in addition to the blood shed by Giuliano, the poor victim, there was his own- The murderer, who had inadvertently created a slender wound on his thigh, was still driven by intense emotions and rich fantasies, and did not feel much pain for the time being, his facial muscles twisted, his teeth clucked, and he looked to the left and right as quickly as a vulture after a little blood, looking for a second target for the day in the chaos of the crowd.

The Medici attaché and friends rushed to the altar, but the Assassins in the crowd met them. In front of the marble altar, Lorenzo faced three despicable murderers alone: one was the chief priest, who clutched a silver reliquary encrusted with gems for defense, and the other hand was unskillfully grasping a wide dagger with a nervous expression, while the assistant priest, who had already thrown away the sacrificial supplies, took on the role of the main culprit, they were tall, their features were rough under the hood, and they held the stab and dagger in their left hand in a very similar position, Lorenzo remembered, one of them was the martial arts teacher of the Pache family, with whom Giuliano had a brief confrontation during a horse joust。

Lorenzo tried to find his brother, but the Assassins had apparently recovered from a rough beginning, and they pounced ferociously on the Medici's parents, their weapons gleaming in the candlelight, thirsting for noble blood, while the unarmed murderers had to wave their cloaks and wrap them around their arms, the cloak of luxury and status, which had always seemed heavy and inconvenient in normal times, was now the best substitute for a shield.

The people who approached the altar screamed, some brave people drew their weapons, many more desperately tried to escape, and the people behind couldn't figure out what was going on.

Lorenzo's struggle with the murderer continued, and the hands accustomed to wielding the quill and the holy water bottle inevitably looked clumsy when wielding weapons, and naturally the Medici used it as the best breakthrough. He kicked a jug away and smashed it into the priest who was wrapped around his feet with the fallen Eucharistic cloth, who screamed and fell backwards, knocking over the high-speed rail stand and the reading platform where the candles were placed, and the candles on the iron shelves flew out, but fortunately landed on the damp and cold marble floor, and only a few ignited the little silk hanging from the wall.

When the fire was extinguished, only the pale golden sunlight from the rose window illuminated the empty cathedral, and according to the design of the cathedral, almost all the light was concentrated on the altar near noon. Against a backdrop of solemn gray stone, the bright light clearly cut the white-clad deacon and the red-clad Medici, separated at the ends of the great altar covered with three layers of linen, staring at each other in madness and hatred, and the muscles clenched by the clenching of their teeth cast an unusually thick shadow on their faces.

The remaining two Assassins were much more skilled than the priests, they were light on their feet, highly skilled in martial arts, and worked together in perfect harmony, and if it weren't for the sturdy and pliable chain mail and the iron candle stand that the Medici grabbed in time (his saber fell under the altar as it fell), they might have accomplished their task. One or two undodgeable blows pierced through the fine silver-plated iron ring, and the broken metal rings and the tip of the sword were deeply embedded in Lorenzo's body, and blood was pouring out, but the Medici parents had no time to care about it out of anger and nervousness, until the two attachés, who had finally escaped their rivals, rushed to the altar to respond.

"Where's Juni?!" Lorenzo asked aloud as he grabbed the attaché's tossed sword, and drew his weapon. He saw the cardinal, dragging his wide robes, disappearing in panic at the edge of the gate, and the stern face of the painter and close friend Leonadona flashing behind the pillar, but he could not catch Giuliano's blood-red velvet cloak embroidered with a golden coat of arms among the thousands of totes of heads and arms. Although he repeatedly tried to convince himself that Giuliano had escaped danger, he knew that his brother would not leave his brother in a life-or-death situation if Giuliano was safe. "O Blessed Virgin Mary," he prayed fervently in his heart, "let him only be wounded, only wounded, not dead - even if he loses an arm or a leg." ”

No one or god answered him, and more hostile swords rose up, and the clergy who had entered the church in the name of Cardinal Rhofaelo di Riari Audi pulled down their sacred turbans and revealed their faces as Gentiles, brandishing their weapons and carving a bloody path through the panicked crowd to Lorenzo de' Medici.

Loyal subordinates clung to Lorenzo's arm and half-forcedly dragged him back behind the empty altar.

The Basilica of Santa Maria del Flore had no seats, only low kneeling stools, the walls were empty, there was no shelter to use, the back door was always closed and locked, and the entrance was firmly controlled by the enemy - but one of the attachés soon noticed that the door to the reliquary was open. Without thinking, they rushed into what was to say the most sturdy, secret room in the entire church, with its two unusually heavy bronze doors, and it took the last of their strength for the Medici loyalists to finally close them and let go of the heavy latches.

Forced into the depths of the room, Lorenzo shook off his entourage and threw himself on the hard metal relief, his eyes and lips pressed against the narrow slit, calling out first to his brother, then to his loyal friends, who had volunteered to block the door of the reliquary, to buy time for his companions who were closing.

The only answers to him were insults and shouts in an unfamiliar accent, and the sound of weapons slashing against the gates.

The attachés were silent, trying with all their might to suppress the Medici parents, more than one of whom had seen how Bernardo Bandini's knife had cut the skull of Giuliano de' Medici, and that if the Virgin had mercy he would have escaped the terrible wound, and that Francesco de Pacci's repeated stabs had cut off the last hope.

Lorenzo's eyes were blurred and exhausted, he felt anxious and thirsty, his blood seemed to turn into hot flames rushing out of his mouth and nose, his reason was gone, and the thirst for revenge had replaced all lust...... As the attachés pondered whether or not to knock him unconscious, his body collapsed abruptly after a powerful spasm.

The attachés panicked, and they pulled the collar of Lorenzo's tight tunic so he could breathe well. Tossing and turning to examine his trembling body by touch—the glimmer of light seeping through the crack in the door was not enough to satisfy the human eye, but the reliquary, which had neither windows nor flint and candles for ignition—and the cathedral, though it had only been built, was still filled with precious relics of saints, crowns, scepters, chalices, icons, images and manuscripts, spices, painted manuscripts, tapestries, precious metals, and ...... The cautious servants of the gods will not allow any hidden danger to arise here.

Eventually, some attentive fellow found a long, narrow cut on the left side of his neck, unusually swollen and hot, and wet all around. It was then that they noticed that Lorenzo was sweating profusely, and one of the attachés, named Antonio, unthinkingly bent down and approached Lorenzo to suck out the venom for him.

"It doesn't help. ”

The sound behind them startled everyone, and several young men suddenly turned around, blocking the Medici's parents behind them, and clenched their daggers or daggers.

The man standing in the darkness moved, and he opened his palm, and in the palm of his hand was a small glass bottle, and a faint but clear turquoise light illuminated his strangely shaped knuckles and deep palm prints. "No need to be nervous, young Medici. The monk said in the Florentine dialect familiar to the Medici, pulling down his turban with his other hand, "It's just phosphorus powder, a glowing powder that can be read to protect too old books from the glare and fire, and it doesn't do much harm......" The monk paused slightly, then took two steps forward, completely ignoring the swords approaching his throat and chest—he hung his neck and looked with an indescribable gaze at Lorenzo de' Medici, who was wheezing in pain: "At the very least, it is kinder than Medici's blood—the venom remains in the wound and in the nearby clots, and if it is sucked hastily, it will be of no use except to give away a precious life. ”

He humbly lowered his body and let the terrible green glow shine on the dying man's face, searching intently for every detail: "Look, he is sweating profusely, his breathing is quickening, he shivers, his tongue is stiff," he said with great interest, "it means that the venom has entered his veins, and perhaps in a little while it will enter the heart, where it will be most effective - he will have convulsions all over his body, breathing hard, his heart beating slow." If that'......" the monk looked up and said his conclusion.

"In that case...... He will surely die. ”

――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

Thirty days later.

Lorenzo de' Medici stood in the corridor on the second floor of the wing of the Palazzo Vecchio, overlooking the proclamation for the abbot and the prefect of the monastery, where the death sentence of Jacop de Pacci was being read, and he was taken back to Florence by the men there while crossing Rome.

The Pache family's rebellion ended sooner than it began, and the Florentines did not support them - although Jacop de Pache once shouted "freedom" and "people" through the city, the only answer he could get was "ball", and their other accomplice, Archbishop Salviati of Pisa, was the "Chess Players of Justice" when he self-righteously led a group of mercenaries hired by Perugia and held the hand of Pope Sistus III in an attempt to control the Florentine government Sesley Petrux and other government officials grabbed him and hanged himself from the window of the palace with the naked Francisco de Pacci (who was in his room in the Palazzo Palazzo when he was found, recuperating on the thigh he had accidentally wounded in the assassination of Giuliano).

The archbishop, however, was well-dressed, and after being thrown with his hands tied behind his back, he bit off several pieces of flesh on Francisco de Pacci's body.

In addition to them, several other masterminds of the Patch family were also hanging, and the Medici painter Pomolich sketched and recorded their deaths with charcoal strips and wooden boards, and then moved to the side of the plaster-plaster wall.

This can be said to be a belated warning, but it can also be said to be a bitter victory.

As Jakep struggled on a sling, the crowd thundered with joy – and this month they were excited about another John the Baptist Day (patron saint of Florence).

Groups of people poured into the Medici Palace, pledged their loyalty to Lorenzo, and then, as if they had obtained some qualification, wandered the streets in droves, searching for what they saw, heard, and thought of. All those associated with the Patch family were unlucky, their assets were plundered, their homes were seized, their wives and children were violated, and they themselves were stripped of their clothes, castrated, and hanged...... For three weeks in a row, half of Florence was in the midst of a bloody storm - "death was no longer surprising, and the streets were full of men's genitals." Someone wrote. (To be continued.) )