Percorso dei Giusti

[Turn 360 and walk away]

Roma was at it's height of beauty in the eve of this summer's day. In the west, glistening over the grand city, flashed the last light of the sun as it fell below the horizon. Far below, a crier called in his reverberating, tinny voice the news of the past day, interspersed in pleas to purchase the newest goods, from new boots or an elixir of lead and pomegranate (the very best for an ailing heart).
The cardinal, a man of late years, who's haggard and worn face was twisted into a look of sorrow and indecision, gazed through the Roma streets with tired eyes and tried to remember a time when he last appreciated the beauty of a Roman sunset instead of dreading it being the last. The veranda he stood was far enough off the ground that even if the crier weren't below him, he would have to shout to get anyone's attention on the cobblestone below. The candlelight behind him let his crisp white robe glow in the twilight, and he appreciated the tableau for only a moment before turning around and approaching a set of grand, golden doors, with brilliant gems and relief sculptures inset. The giant brass knocker sat at head's level, and was about as large as the man's head, making the door seem that much more important. He grasped the ring, it's fabricated shape that of a snake swallowing it's tail, evil destroying itself, and raised it, let it fall on it's own power.
"Saluta, Geoffrey," the man on the other side of the door spoke casually, "Enter."
"Sir," the cardinal called Geoffrey ventured, "did His Holiness enjoy Carnival this past week while I was away?" trying to strike up some conversation other than the one he was charged to bring.
"I did not, cannot. I cleansed myself for this coming week."
"His Holiness required cleansing?" The cardinal was honestly taken back.
"For the coming event of our Savior's return, yes."
"I see, yes. I have news of the Holy Lands, sir."
"What of it? Are my knights bored with lack of entertainment? Are the Godless heathens too simple to entertain their holy swords?"
"Not quite, sir," Geoffrey was shaken, now, "quite the opposite. I come early because our holy crusade seems to be, er, falling short of His Holiness' expectations."
"Which means?" The fire in the pit beside the Pope lit him up with a frightening glow.
"We lost Jerusalem, Sir. We have no more men. We are wasted. It is hopeless."
His Holiness said nothing, but shooed the cardinal away and sat heavily on an ornate wooden throne. He hid his face in the palms of his age-twisted hands. After some minutes, he thought better of it, and shakily got to his knees, and placed his hands, palm to palm, in front of his bowed face. The pope pleaded for aid. Humble Giacomo pleaded for aid.
__________________________________

Enzo D'Medici di Firenze walked with a false calm through the crowd of bustling shoppers and playing children and street performers of the square, in the center of what had grown to become Firenze's least savory market. The leader of the merchants, il capitano dei mercanti was this new governor's running platform, had tried to bring a more positive light to the once-great city that was shining with Italian influence by inciting a military rule, stationing guards with rifle and bow and sword at nearly every corner, on every rooftop, and in any businesses. Though dressed as plain as they come, a white shirt under a dark vest, dark pants and boots, he had intentions far from plain. His dark skin, auburn hair and almost black eyes cursed him, as, unlike his brother, he seemed to have missed the storybook perfection that the rest of his family possessed. His eyes gave his intentions light, he put his head down and studied the road he walked. Adorning his face, still fresh and young, was scars across his jaw and mouth, the product of a childhood picking fights with his family's rivals too often.
"Enzo, where have you been?" A woman's voice came from beside him, light as a feather, and subtly seductive, so much as to feel imagined.
A joke eluded him, so he responded by shrugging passively. "Rosa, so nice to see you."
"Enzo, look at me, huh?"
He raised his eyes to meet hers, she was dressed in much the same fashion, save for he personal color choice being a green beside Enzo's blacks and grays. She wore a bandanna around her head, the same shade green, to keep her jet black, short hair from her face. "Madonna, you are stunning today."
"You flatter me, Enzo." She growled and playfully bumped into him with her hip. She flashed a smile, and for not the first time, and certainly not the last, how she had managed to be storybook beautiful, with fair skin and eyes like a pool. "Is it because this morning you forgot to say 'bye'?"
"Rosa, your father chased me out of your room. I jumped out of a third story window. There was no time for byes, because I didn't feel like getting shot!" Enzo said incredulously.
"That bastardo has no place telling me who I can see."
"He has no right to use a sword on me, either, Rosa. Hasn't stopped him."
"We can try again tonight, after this is over..." She purred again and Enzo momentarily melted, until a heavy hand clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over.
"Alright, brother," The newcomer tipped his hat, "And dear Rosa. Shall we do this?"
"Dante. So nice to see you," Enzo said grudgingly, rubbing the sore spot on his back. Rosa smiled politely and nodded.
"How will we do it, again?" Dante said, with a tone implying he was seeing if Enzo remembered.
"Simple. Scale the wall, it's accessible from the river, and once over the first wall, we'll just have to move quickly into the main chamber. There should be few guards; They are stretched to thin to even patrol San Marco, the worst district here. Once il Capitano dei Mercanti is dead, this madness should cease -" He was shouldered aside by a giant armored brute looking for thieves, " - And I could stand for more than five minutes at a time without running into one of these culo guardsmen."
Rosa looked sideways at him, and Dante nodded in agreement.

[V]

The camel groaned as it's leader pulled on it's lead, the beast hauling behind it a wagon full of many different goods; two others of the same kinda hauling an equally heavy wagon. The wagon's were sturdy wooden structures, almost looking like it would require two camels to pull a single one, and each bore a flag of crimson, with the design of a black circle, and within that circle was a serpent-like dragon in a backward "S" shape, it's head being the most standing out feature. The guards, and most of the people who inhabited Rome would recognize this banner, belonging to one of the many merchant Clans strewn about the world. This one visited roam once every three months for a week, as the people of it originate back far back in China, and was come to be known as the Draconis Combine. Normally, they would be allowed into the city, after forfeiting their weapons to the guards, for a week, to sell off exotic goods, weapons, decor, and(very rarely mind you)slaves. This time they brought no slaves, but they also were unaware that the Bazaar was now under new rule. This particular caravan had twelve people, mainly garbed in silks, linens, leather, or light metal plates, giving them that nomadic desert wanderer look. The pronunciation of their names was a very hard thing for the locals of Rome to properly speak, so to make it easier on them, they went by easier names they could say such as "Fox" or "Hammer". Two of this caravan stuck out, not dressed as outlandish as the others. The reason being was the plundering of garbs of corpses, abandoned wagons, or buying from other traders. The first, a man who went by the name of Timber Wolf, or "Wolf" if there was no one else with a similar nearby. For now, he donned raggy brown leather pants, light metal silver boots that went up to the knees, covering what the pants fell short of, a long sleeved tunic with frills at the ends of the cuffs, underneath a silver metal breastplate. Slung over his back was a bayonetted rifle with an intricate dragon design carved upon the stock, that trailed all the way to the end of the butt. On his belt was a sabre, likely plundered or bought from a British officer. His skin was tinted slightly yellow, almond shaped brown eyes, and black hair tied up into a small ponytail near the top and back of his head; if let down, it would probably reach to his neck.

The second was a female, who went by the name of Vulture. And her name suited her quite well. The law of the out lands were tough, and often merchant Clans fought and plundered another. In combat, Vulture picked weaker or dying members or even hauler beasts of opposing caravans. She wore some tighter fitting leather; all black, black shoulder pads of a hardened leather, the fingers of her black gloves fingerless. There were two scimitars of similar looked strapped and hanging from either side of her belt, the handles resembling snakes. She, just like Timber Wolf, also kept a bayonetted rifle slung over her back. Despite their fights among other Clans, a lot of the members showed very small signs of fighting; lacking scars on the faces or even bruises. This was the same for her. Though a bit of dusty face, her features were quite well kept. Brown almond eyes, like the rest of the other clanners, tannish skin, and jet black hair that reached past her shoulders, almost being level with the bottom of her breasts. The Draconis Combine wasn't just known for bringing the most luxurious of exotic goods(normally plundered off other caravans of even Clans), but they were also known as one of the most brutal. The old government of Rome was reluctant to grant them access, but due to the financial need of arming and training more soldiers to help the war effort, they would happily accept any extra revenue possible. But with the new man established in control, they might not find themselves as welcomed.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first of the caravan reached the gates of the city, and they were immediately halted by the guards. As always, the Clanners were each ordered to forfeit their weapons(the ones they carried on their bodies) if they were to be allowed inside, and they happily obliged, each member placing his or her weapons into a crate beside the guard post. With each trader now unarmed, the caravan continued in. Several children watched from the safety of the side of the street or their own balconies. Most had never seen a camel in their young life, or even people of different skin. The clanners all spoke of their own language amongst each other, but they all knew the language of this land as well. The center of town was where they had been set up, placing their iconic flag between their three wagons. The first wagon sported the goods of produce, food, spices, and cooking utensils and equipment. The second was the wagon full of the garbs, dresses, military uniforms, thread and cloth. And the final wagon carried the arms. Bows, rifles, pistols, swords, as well as the ammunition for them. Four members were stations at each wagon. The most charismatic of them would server as the merchant at one corner, while the other three stood guard at the remaining. This, of course, to prevent theft. Vulture and the other female clanners wore veils during this and almost never spoke; knowing to the Romans, women were still property. Timber Wolf was the merchant of the weapons wagon, calling to the burly and scrawny alike, for protection, hunting, or anything he could think of.

[Turn 360 and walk away]

Clinging onto the narrow ledges of the palace and fortress that was the governor's home. It's white marble shone brightly against the soaked and discouraged climbers, splendidly marking the birth of a new Firenze. After many, many tries, the three couldn't quite find a foothold any higher than the half way mark, a ledge, and if they did, they were wet and couldn't possibly find grip to free climb like that.
Enzo was out of breath from jumping pointlessly at a window sill, tried to say something, then thought better of it and shut his mouth.
"No, we're not going to go around to the street side," Dante said in reply, somehow sensing what his brother was going to suggest.
"Break a window," was Rosa's solution.
"Fine. Fine. We'll do it in a loud, ungraceful manner." Enzo said, throwing his arms up in the air.
Rosa smirked and shimmied to a stained-glass depiction of some saint. "Come, Enzo. Let's use your brother's thick skull."
"Yes, he won't feel a thing," Enzo said as he wrapped the leathery vest around his hand like a glove.
"No, that just hurt."
"Dante, you imbecile, come on brother."
"yeah, alright." His hand snaked to the back of his shirt where a dagger was sheathed under the folds of clothing. Rosa reached for a stiletto at her boot. Enzo drew his hand back but stopped, startled, as a church bell rang further down the street.
"Well?" Dante said.
"Use it! The sound is cover!" Rosa said, realizing the luck faster than either man.
Enzo nodded and tried to push his protected fist through the stained glass as the bells struck, until in one spectacular push, his entire body fell through the weakened window, right in the middle of the last few minutes of the Governor's private mass. He laid in the aisle, head on a pew, looking more unready than surprised. Rosa and Dante fell with more grace than him, weapons drawn. Rosa spat at the ground as she circled to the exit. "È il cane, prepare to die!"
People began running and screaming, finally realizing that it wasn't a prank by the neighborhood fool. Enzo waded through the crowd of people, pushing and throwing them away as he chased down the governor, a man that made him sicker now than before. He dressed in blue, fur-lined robed and gold, and wore a ring on each finger as if goods like these were simply found on the street. He unsheathed the dagger and sprinted towards the man.
The two others were inching closer, making no attempt to quell the throng of screaming women and frenzied men as they closed in on the target.
Enzo screamed a wild, guttural roar and doubled his efforts towards the cowering man, who in him haste, walked backwards, into a pew and tripped. With a quick jump, he cleared the bench and pushed the dagger into his chest, a mortal wound, but not killing.
"You missed!" Rosa said incredulously, as if it were a test Enzo had failed in school. She deflected a sword from one of the few men in the mass who chose to fight, and promptly showed Enzo the right way, subdueing the man as easily as tying her shoe. Dante ended up boxing two men, and bested them.
"Why?" The Governor asked, over and over again.
"For the good of Firenze." was the simple answer, and given by all three in turn. He coughed and spat up blood, but still refused to die.
"Stolto," Enzo sighed.
"We're better than that. We're a Thieves' Guild, not some sort of... children's game," Rosa bitterly lectured, "We have some honor, you know."
The three continued to argue back and forth until Rosa knelt down, whispered something in the dying man's ear, and ended it. "Like that?" Dante said, "What'd you say?"
"No time!" She was right, dozens of guilded guardsmen were running towards the front doors of the castello.
The Thieves bounded out the door, scaled a building, and avoiding slings and arrows and the occasional musket fire, found themselves back home, a large complex of homes in the farthest south of Firenze, where they were greeted with congratulations and celebrations. The guard would lose them in half an hour and stop looking; their faces weren't known.

[V]

After a night of very poor business, the caravan leader, who went by the name of Locust, decided to pack up the caravan, and relocate. As usual, their weapons were returned after they had left the gates, and the traveled due west, about ten miles out. The Clan halted in the middle of the dirt road, lightly wooded all around, with the sound of a speedy creek nearby. Locust and the navigator places their maps and and tools about the top of a flat boulder, and started plotting their next move. "What's the next place on our path?" Locust had asked, the large mace he held with one hand over her shoulder looked shiney in the sun, perhaps the guards had shined it before they returned it. "The closest city on our route is a little place called Florence...or Firenza in their language. Range?"
"About a day or so's ride..."
As the leader and the navigator evaluated, Timber Wolf walked out towards the creek. The sun was rather high today, and he wanted to wash his face of with water to help cool it down. But when he arrived, he saw Vulture already there. Perhaps she had the same idea.
"Lin'asha?" The man said with a greeting tone. "What are you doing here?"
The woman turned her head. "Trying to find a walrus." She offered in a sarcastic tone. That's the way she normally would respond to a question from Timber Wolf, and like always, they both chuckled.
"I would ask you the same, Shin Wo."
"Just came to wash my face."
Lin had kept her veil on the entire way, even to this point, and made no motion now to remove it, but she sat down and put her chin to her knees. "Why don't you take that thing off?"
"I like it here. Gives me that mysterious look."
"But it hides your beautiful look."
"That doesn't account for much among Romans."
"What? Did you have your eyes on one?"
"Oh heaven's no."
The man knelt beside her, cradling her chin with his right hand, and gently steered her head to face him. "So where does the problem come in?" His left hand pulled the top of the veil back, while his right grabbed onto the mask and pulled down. The mask revealed the smile of the woman it was hiding, and the two of them pressed foreheads.
"Shin Wo! Lin'asha! Let's get going, Vong decided where we go next!" A man called to them from road. "We're going to head to Firenza!"
The two of them looked at eachother and shrugged, gathering their things and closely following.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived the next day in daylight. But when they reached the gates, it looked like Marshal law had been declared. Guards all around. And they were even stopped before entering. "Sorry, no one is permitted to leave or enter the city without the Guard Captain or Governor's approval. I doubt he will let in outsiders." The guard eyed their banner a moment, then looked back to Locust. "Who are you guys?"
"You don't know who we are? We're a very prestigious trade Clan...we should be well known by your Guard Captain. If you would be so kind to hail him?"
"Why should I? What could we possibly gain from outsiders?"
"We trade. We help keep your money circulated."
"And?"
Locust reached out, grabbed a hold of the guard's right arm. "And you get to keep your arm." The guard all around him drew their blades as well. Short swords and broadswords. The Clanners flourished their own weapons. The guards were clearly outgunned, but Locust waved the weapons of his clan down and let the man go. The guard held the point of which he was held and told one of the others to fetch the captain. And he returned with a man, dressed far more ornately. Almost like a Spanish conquistador, without the silly hat. "Captain Del Sable." The man approached Locust, then looked at the flag, then back to Locust. "Draconis? Hmm...I suppose I could let you in. But it wouldn't be on grounds of trade."
Locust shook his head. "Then we will head to--"
"No, you misunderstand. I will still pay you, with the Pope's money of course. You see...we're having ourselves a...pest problem. An infestation of little thieves and rogues."
"Doesn't everyone?"
"Yes but...these ones were bold enough to kill a very powerful man. We didn't see any of them unfortunately."
"So where does the interesting part come?"
"I'd like to hire you and your band around here...for extra security. You'll still be paid of course. 15 flora a day. And after your week of formal trade schedule is expired, I will double that for every day you stay.
"To me alone? Or all my men?"
"Well to you alone is far to small...but to your whole clan would be unfair to us. So why not...fifteen by five to account for five of your men. I'm sure you will all divvy it equally."
Locust looked back to his clan...and they all seemed to like the idea of playing watch dog for a little while. Beats roving around the desert.
"Very well, Del Sable...you have a deal."

[Turn 360 and walk away]

Within the small outcropping of villas and townhouses that was the Thieves Guild, Enzo felt more at home than the courtyards of his family home, Palazzo d'Medici, a hulking stone fortress, not unlike the gaudy behemoth that his brothers (and sister) in arms laid asunder not a day ago. Lorenzo can have it. Lorenzo, a big-shot banker, sure to leave his mark in history books. Enzo didn't want to see his name in the ink of a scholar's text. He felt much more content steering the pen from behind the page. Criers were proclaiming the safety of the dead man and easing the citizens, while mumbling under their breaths that hell was sure to catch them with Il Capitano dead by armed hooligans and angry, now unemployed, guardsmen roaming the streets, a symptom sure to clear now that the tumor has been removed.
He crossed an invisible line in the cobblestone street, and was no longer wrapped in the comfort of comradeship.
He was alone, now, in a sea of Florentine men and women and children, all strangers. He felt no danger from any of them, and indeed, felt a glow of happiness of of them. Lost in his thoughts, he realized he had no idea of how far he walked and looked for a distinction. Young women waved and giggled, some men tipped their hat, Leonardo DaVinci's workshop at the head of a three-way intersection. San Marco was the greatest district in Firenze, brightest and notably middle-class. People here were used to working hard for what they had, and were plenty happy doing it.
Moving passed his shoulder came the artist himself, young and spry and unendingly inquisitive, playing with a small wooden doll made to look like a man, complete with articulating joints. He was so absorbed in the funny little toy that he ran into Enzo, knocking off his beret and nearly dropping the fragile figurine in the process. He turned around quickly, and Enzo met his eyes. "I'm so sorry!" The artist said without an utterance of insincerity in his voice. Enzo handed the man his hat, placed his hand on the shaken artist's shoulder, and nodded. Leonardo scurried away, half out of fear of retribution and half humiliation.
Enzo turned around and sprinted up the side of his workshop, very conveniently built to have ample footholds, and moved to Rosa's house, a townhouse in San Polo where her father should be away for many more hours, climbing and leaping across rooftops to get there.
No doubt that the footsteps and falling ceramic shingles and the flying body over the streets were enough of a notice that someone was on the rooftops, but Enzo was feeling good today, and made it his goal to be as conspicuous as possible, just to see what might happen.

[V]

The night of recruitment, the clan merchants, now hired as mercenaries and would be referred to as such, were shown where they would be staying. It was a block away from a Guard's outpost in the middle of San Marco district, closer to the border of the San Polo district. Itself was a large twin story townhouse, recently evicted of all the tenants, but was still sufficient in size to house all of the clan comfortably. The next morning Lin'asha, or Vulture was on the second floor balcony, looking over all the town. The streets were bustling with the morning scramble for grocers, errands, and other things. Criers were shouting news, although false, trying to keep the death of the governor secret in an attempt to keep any further chaos quelled. But they all knew eventually there would be questions of why these "traders" from China were still here. But for now, they could all wear that veil of secrecy. She placed her left forearm flat on the balcony rail, leaning on it, while her right elbow rested on the rail as well, forearm up and hand cradling her chin. She seemed genuinely bored. She heard footsteps behind her, but didn't make much of a motion to face them. It was probably someone calling her to lunch or asking her for the polishing cloth. A hand prodded her on the shoulder with it's finger, the woman slowly turning her head back to face the owner, and she did so with a smile.
"Oh. Shin. I thought you would still be asleep. You are indeed the heaviest of us all when it comes to it."
The man laughed, and joined the woman in a similar position over the rail. "Oh how could I sleep when I knew the beautiful Lin would be waiting for me?"
"Who said I was waiting?"
"Oh it's not like you're hard to read. Like now. You seem famished."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "And how on earth do you figure that?"
"Simple. Our last meal was well over a day ago."
"Tch...I don't need to satisfy my hungry right now. I'm running well on the energy from yesterday." And to give her bluff away, her stomach let loose a growl.
"Oh is that so?"
"Oh keep quiet I--what?" The two of them heard heavy footfalls...but they were coming from above. They looked skyward and to the left. They could see a man, hopping roofs, dropping of ceramic tiling as he bounded from one roof to another. When he jumped on their own, a ceramic plate nearly fell on the woman's head, but quick reflexes saved her a possible concussion. A man running about rooftops seemed like something unusual, but nothing far from a bored juvenile trying to kill time. The two assumed that was what it was, and with nothing than a "HEY! Watch it!" in Italian, they reacted on it no more.

[Turn 360 and walk away]

Enzo looked back when the woman on the roof acknowledged him, and tripped on a loose shingle, throwing him nearly over the edge of the rooftop. He clutched the edge of the roof with both hands to catch himself if he were to fall and looked back, now even with the balcony at this edge of the slanted roof. "Well, that's all fine!" Enzo said, with no harshness in his voice, but venom in his words, "I would have loved to plummet to the ground, too! Thanks for that, bastardo." He stood up and backed up to try the jump again, "You're not from around here, are you? Cosa devo fare con questi idioti?"
He looked back, trying to see what response the foreigners would have, when he noticed that they were armed. Which is bad, because only the guardsmen were allowed to carry weapons inside the city walls, especially fucili. "It was nice meeting you! Addio! Perhaps our paths will cross again!" He said, perhaps too quickly, and ran off across the roofs with a renewed fervor, produced of fear. He did NOT feel like getting shot today.
__________________________________

Giacomo had begun praying that night Geoffrey informed him of the failure. It was two nights passed, now. He has not left his knees, but to do the necessary, and fasted since. God not yet answered him, perhaps though, most importantly, was that he hadn't done anything with his flock since that night. He had one cardinal or another head his congregation while he prayed in his private chamber, afraid to stop. He tried a prayer, he bargained, and he debated to God, first asking Him help, then telling Him to help, and finally asking Him to defend His holy land. That last one seemed to work. It was as if a small candle in his soul grew to a bonfire when he took himself out of his prayers, made it of importance to God rather than Giacomo. Suddenly, in the middle of another "Amen," Giacomo's stomach thundered loudly, reminding him that he had been fasting for so long, especially for one as old as he. "No food or drink does strange things to a mind," he reminded himself, and broke prayer for a few minutes to have someone fetch him a vial of hat lead and pomegranate distill, which he very quickly drank, and immediately felt a deeper comfort in his chest, and a calming wave through his gall. He sputtered a cough and prayed, but a voice as deep and resounding as a thunderclap cut him off before he could start.
God talked to Giacomo that evening, with embers popping and smoke rising in the room, God talked to the Pope, and promised aid when the time is right. Then, and only then. There would be two signs, he was told, and then the room was silent.

[Turn 360 and walk away]

Enzo could hear Rosa's idiota padre snoring beneath the floorboards as he and Rosa rolled around on her bed, softly sighing and giggling like nervous schoolgirls. They delighted in the taboo of it, and so, only fell into excitement that much faster. As Enzo kissed her chin and neck, A gust of wind tore open the shutters of her room, and evidently everyone else's, based on the groaning and cursing coming from up and down the street. Rosa growled irritably, and goosebumps raised on her skin as the chilled night air blew in.
"I'll get it." Enzo sat at the edge of the bed for a moment before getting up.
"There was no storm coming earlier today, right?"
"It was a giorno perfetto, I have no idea." He latched the shutters tight, "Now, where were we?"
"Oh, right at my favorite part."
"Right, right!"
"Enzo, sta 'zitto?"
"Right." he said, and bit his knuckle as he climbed back under the sheets.
___________________

Giacomo waited patiently, after God's word had been spoken. The first sign came as soon as he went to rest on his divine wooden throne. The great fire that warmed his castello suddenly sputtered, popped, and extinguished, as if someone had poured the whole Mediterranean into his mantle. The Pope sat wide awake, alert to everything. The first sign had come. In the glowering embers, a scrap of paper wafted up and down, rising from the heat.
Colpi di pistola echoed down the street as a monstrous storm suddenly howled through the streets, throwing open shutters and windows and doors and at once, slamming them against their buildings. The wailing wind was so ferocious, so demonic in it's presence, the Pope wondered for a second if, maybe he had heard Satan's answer as the shrieking wind found his window and rushed in like a flood. The second sign? Quite possibly. Jerusalem would finally be His.
Nonetheless, Giacomo re-shuttered his window and prayed fervently before going to bed. He was returning to mass tomorrow, so he must get his rest. It was an uneasy night.
____________________

The winds, though magnified by the buildings within the city, was hardly more than gusts to Marcello as he stalked silently home from his day at the mill house. He pulled his coat collar above his ears as a particularly vicious gust blew against him. He was never superstitious, but a tempest like this was surely a bad omen, even if it is God's doing. He hurried along now, boots digging into the soft earth of the rolling hills south of Roma. Normally, he didn't mind crossing the cemetery, either, but like before, this was no normal night, so he hurried even more, almost jogging to get beyond the breach of his home. Wind whipped him, sent him scurrying left, then right, and left again as it had it's way with him. Marcello did begin to run slowly, and no matter why, rationalized it as getting home before the storm blew in. Oh, he wished he had his horse. Why couldn't he have taken a horse today? He expended his energy and slowed down. Clouds with evil looks were overhead, and lightening flashed. There was no rain to accompany this, only the clashing of the thunder and the stinging lightening to keep him company.
Footsteps behind him? No, they were a horses' hooves. He turned around, and could only mutter "abomination" before a pike pushed it's way through his eye and out the back of his head.

The first reports that made it to the criers, and so, to the people, of this new enemy were some two days later, when a band of ghouls was seen roaming about outside Roma's gates. they were described as human, for sure, but not of our world. Muscle and bone where skin should be. Pits for eyes. foul odors, red coals sitting in some of the eyes, blue crystals of light in others. Great, eldritch swords and spears and axes. Twisted bone steeds and a path of char and fire wherever they walk. And depending on how much, and how long ago, the crier was bribed, they are varying degrees of imaginary.

[V]

(Shin's text is normal font, Lin's is italicized)

Word had reach the city of Florence in record time, putting the remnants of the guard and the mercenaries into attack mode. Rooftop shooters and sword wielding guards were now stationed at the entrances, leaving a small amount to protect the vendors or take up policing tasks. The distribution of the fighters among the entrances were equal for the most part. It seemed that the murder of the governor had all been forgotten, or at least not considered the bigger threat anymore. The natives seemed to be terrified, but the mercenaries were skeptic. They didn't even know much about Rome's gods.
Lin'asha and Shin were positioned together atop one of the lookout posts above Florence's east gate. Their fellow Roman guardsmen were shaking, and edgy, but the two of them couldn't exactly figure out why.
"It's probably some over glorified recruitment scam..." Shin was speaking to Lin'asha in their native tongue, of course to mask their mocking of the natives.
"Or maybe Romans just spook evilly. Perhaps I will tell them there is a dragon in the aqueducts. Or that the rats carry a bloodthirsty disease!" The two of them then turned their eyes outside the post. Nothing but open field, not even a sign that a horse had trodden over it. This was probably the easiest gold they've ever made.
"Wasn't our original task to protect nobles?"
"I do believe so..."
"Hmm...this isn't right then. Baby-sitting revered people is one thing, but the entire city? They should raise our pay!"
"We should probably bring that up with Vo--" Shin stopped speaking, and looked out the window a second time, tapping Lin on the shoulder. "What's that?"
She looked in the direction he pointed, and squinted. There was a glow of some kind...it looked green, a sickly green, something normally associated with something evil. For now, it was just a glow in the distance, but it didn't take a trained eye to see it was coming for them. The Roman guards caught sight of it too, but unlike the mercenaries who remained calm, they were becoming frantic, weapons full drawn.
"What's going on here...

[Turn 360 and walk away]

"Tua madre did not complain like that last night!" Enzo called from one end of an old, stone-floored bridge.
"Oh, you bastardo Medici! That will be the death of you!"
"You Pazzi perdente, you couldn't even harm a hair on my head!"

The Di Pazzi were a wealthy family, who ironically, held almost as little influence as an average panhandler in Florence. The Auditore and the Medici, both of which enterprised branches of their family banks within the walls of Florence some generations ago, managed to cast the Pazzi family into almost total eclipse. They did still have plenty florini to go around, however, and usually spent it in slinging mud.

Enzo turned and tauntingly walked away, signaling his small group of followers to do the same. The Pazzi picked up a stone a little smaller than his fist and cast it towards the group. It landed soundlessly on Enzo's face, cutting his upper lip. He turned around, and threw his arms up in the air furiously. The two groups rushed at each other, each wailing a battle cry, more akin to primal screams than actual words. At first, people lined the streets to watch the spectacle, but as the fighting grew more intense, the streets cleared of people in fear of life and limb.
"You Medici! My father's father should have done this when he had the chance!" Pazzi drew a long knife and charged, waving it like a banner. More people on both sides, sensing the growing intensity, also drew all manner of weapon and began slicing instead of hitting their target.
"Your father's father was a beggar!"
"Firenze was such a beautiful place until you set your grimy paw on it!"
"Enzo!" A booming voice called from the opposite side of the bridge.
"Dante! So nice of you to join me!" Enzo jumped backwards to stray a glancing blow, but failed to protect his arm and lost some blood to the Pazzi's blade. His immediate recourse was a windmilling hook to the other man's temple, which nearly found it's mark and landed, no doubt deafeningly, on his ear.
"Guards! Guards!" a woman ran down the street, not the first, but the loudest. Soon enough, the brawl was drawing attention, and those ornately-armored guards were in the middle of the group, trying to break it up, and arresting other brawlers. Enzo wanted to break away and let the Pazzi take the heat, but he couldn't retreat without the blood-sucker following.

Eventually, the fighting stopped, and everyone was carted either home or to a holding cell until things could be sorted out.
"Enzo!"
"Hello, Mamma."
"Do you have something to tell me?"
"No, nothing."
"Enzo, you really ned to find an outlet!"
"But, I, I do!" Enzo said incredulously.
"Other than vaginas."
Enzo couldn't argue, and went out to cause more minor mayhem in his boredom, "Ciao, mamma! Ci vediamo stasera!"