Rome, 1494.

Cesare Borgia sits in the gardens of his family estate, on the edge of a stone fountain carved in the image of God. The young Cardinal’s red robes reflect off the water, which shimmers under the warm, Rome sun.

Cesare has recently returned from a trip to Paris on behalf of his father, Rodrigo — Pope Alexander VI — and the journey was long. Cesare never liked taking time away from his family, it gnawed at him with worry. His mother was the mistress of the Pope, never truly respected in noble society. His brother was unprincipled and prone to insulting people. And his sweet sister, Lucrezia, was only a young girl.

Cesare glances down to the shiny rosary beads in his hand, twiddling it between his slender fingers. The young Cardinal did believe in God, he just… believed in being a Borgia more. It was his duty to protect his family, while the Pope watched over Rome.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps crunching on white stone gravel makes its way to Cesare’s ears, his blue eyes glancing sideways to see who was approaching him in the quiet garden.