"Florence lay in the valley, red roofs glimmering in the last light of the evening sun, the entire vista bathed in the warm hues of sunset. The Arno glittered, and above it the huge dome on the church was a testament to the power of the city and to its faith. His eyes swept across the view, and even from outside the city, Machiavelli could practically hear the voices below hustling to pack up shops on the Ponte Vecchio, the wheels of heavy carts across the cobblestones, the competing church bells from Santa Maria Novella on one side of town and Santa Croce on the other. He breathed in the view, thirsty for Florence.  The soft breeze rustled the trees on the hill, and Niccolo snapped back to the present. He didn’t want to be late for his meeting. He hurried down the steep slope, passing through the city walls at Porto San Giorgio. For a moment, he reached out and touched the cooling stone of the wall, remembering a time when he, alone, was in charge of the city’s fortifications. But even at this late hour he could not pause for long, as a cart carrying fresh lettuce rolled past him, part of the river of goods flowing into the city."  - The Lion and the Fox

"Florence lay in the valley, red roofs glimmering in the last light of the evening sun, the entire vista bathed in the warm hues of sunset. The Arno glittered, and above it the huge dome on the church was a testament to the power of the city and to its faith. His eyes swept across the view, and even from outside the city, Machiavelli could practically hear the voices below hustling to pack up shops on the Ponte Vecchio, the wheels of heavy carts across the cobblestones, the competing church bells from Santa Maria Novella on one side of town and Santa Croce on the other. He breathed in the view, thirsty for Florence.

The soft breeze rustled the trees on the hill, and Niccolo snapped back to the present. He didn’t want to be late for his meeting. He hurried down the steep slope, passing through the city walls at Porto San Giorgio. For a moment, he reached out and touched the cooling stone of the wall, remembering a time when he, alone, was in charge of the city’s fortifications. But even at this late hour he could not pause for long, as a cart carrying fresh lettuce rolled past him, part of the river of goods flowing into the city."

-The Lion and the Fox

The Lion and the Fox

Exiled, isolated, and depressed, Niccolo Machiavelli longs to return to power at any cost—but with the threat of torture still hanging over his head, Niccolo must bend to the will of the powerful Medici family.

When a mysterious letter sends him to investigate the murder of a Medici, Niccolo stumbles into a dangerous world of rich young patricians, mysterious prostitutes, and shocking violence.

Set against the vibrant backdrop of Renaissance Florence, Machiavelli must rely on his wits to navigate the currents of power and brutality, never knowing who he can trust. Niccolo thinks he can play the fox to outwit his enemies—but has he underestimated the lion?

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