It's a tricky thing, the gulf of time between them. Eight hundred and seventy eight years, to be exact. His life was lived closer to Heraclian rule than this man's life, a fact which makes him feel more ancient than this space ship ever could, but he is bolstered by what he has seen of the future, and everything he ever wanted to know of it.

"I do not know this word, but," he says, with a considering gesture, his gaze fixed on Kovacs. "Long before my time, there was the Roman Empire –– an imperial age that ended a thousand years before I was born. The birthplace of Catholicism. They had something called colonia. Military outposts beyond the Italian peninsula's shores, and thousands of little cities and towns awarded colonia despite no Roman soul having ever lived there. Mere legal status so that people governed by their own could be reminded that they were still conquered."

Ezio pauses, and then nods to himself.

"So if I guessed, I would say your Protectorate is the same. Your Falconer, she wanted liberty from it. Your Envoys, they were made legends for being willing to stand for freedom."

And you, he thinks, wanted a cause.