presents...
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Homecoming
Game Date: 08/04/06
The footman had ridden ahead to announce their coming; servants stood by, ready to begin unpacking the coach. Within moments, Don Antonio appeared to welcome his wife and brother home. In high spirits at their return, he asked about the trip - but pulled up short when he noticed that Gianina was upset. "What's wrong?" he asked. She flew into his arms, trembling. He looked over her shoulder at Angelo, confused and alarmed. "We have bad news," Angelo said. "Francesca and Marco - " "NO," Gianina interrupted him. "Inside," she insisted. His son and vedova weren't there; Antonio had assumed they were riding behind at a more leisurely pace. It was a fine Julius day, after all. Now their absence suddenly seemed sinister. "What? What about them?" he asked as they drew him inside. "Sit down," Gianina said quietly. Antonio didn't, looking from her to Angelo. "Where's my son?" "Husband, sit!" Gianina had never spoken to him so; he would have been angry, except that she was crying. He sank slowly onto a padded bench in the entryway. "Where are they?" he asked again, in a smaller voice, afraid. Angelo broke the news: they had died, of cholera, on Caligari Island.
Antonio and Gianina retreated to more private quarters to grieve, he mostly for Marco and she mostly for Francesca. She shared some good news: she was pregnant. It was a horrible coincidence, to lose one child just as he learned that he would be a father again, but it was still welcome news. Her announcement that she was a Lachesis now made him tense for a moment, but he put it aside to continue to comfort her. Eventually, he had to excuse himself - Marco's mother had to be told. Gianina understood, and probably felt some measure of pity when the old courtesan's wails were later heard downstairs. Angelo had the unhappy task of breaking the news to Bernardo. Lucia was more moved by it, being the more sentimental of the pair. Neither had known Marco or Francesca all that well, but the two young people had been well-liked and their early deaths were tragic. Bernardo said that they would put on mouring weeds and be by the Donati family home that evening. Something seemed amiss with Lucia, but she put it off to the heat and her pregnancy and went to go lie down when Angelo asked about it. Elsa Schuman was, in principle, sympathetic to the loss of family members, but in practice, she really didn't know these people and just hoped that she was going to be paid as promised. She sat in the main foyer taking some refreshments that the ever-attentive Luigi had brought from the kitchen. When the light coming in from the door was blocked, she looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered nobleman regarding the two of them with amusement. "What'd you bring home, Luigi? Iddn't she a little big for you?" Elsa glanced at her puppydog admirer, who was trying to stutter an answer and failing. "I assure you, sir, there is no match." "You idiot!" The big man shook his head at the valet. "You brought her all the way back here and you can't afford the price? You're wastin' her time, that's rude." He turned with a big smile to Elsa, clearly about to offer to make up for Luigi's offense, and was just as clearly surprised when she snapped, "Sir, I am an Eisen soldier, not a common prostitute!" "Naw." Cristoforo Donati wouldn't believe it. "And I demand an apology." Cristoforo looked back in blank amazement for a moment before laughing. "Yeah, sure you do." This whole 'I'm an Eisen soldier' routine was kind of interesting, and he was a little curious to see how it turned into a sales pitch. "Or else a duel. At your leisure," she rapped out, before rising and marching past him through the door. Was this part of the pitch? He happened to glance at Luigi, who finally managed, "She really is an Eisen soldier, sir." "Huh." Well, Eisen soldier or not, he was gonna have to put her in her place. He ambled out for this "duel." While they agreed to terms - the first to three touches with the flat of the blade - and squared up, a few of the Donati guard gathered around to watch. Cristoforo was a little too involved in playing to his audience, because Elsa's first attack caught him entirely off-guard. Thwack! It was a good, solid rap across his left side. Well, that was nice, but he wasn't one of Veronica's boys for nothing. Putting his blade up, he lunged in, smashing the pommel and guard into her face. It didn't count as a hit by their terms, but it sure put her off her stride. Smirking, he levered his arm around, bringing the tip down and lightly tapping her nose with it. Now that she knew she was outclassed, surely she'd... She'd hit him so hard, and in the same damn spot, that he felt the ribs crack. All right, screw that. He returned the blow in kind, but he didn't see her even flinch. He was still extended when she hammered him again, a solid slap on the shoulder. She stepped back and put up her sword as their seconds hustled into the ring. Cris's second even brought help - when the capo was that particular shade of red, it was best to bring help. He rubbed his shoulder and grimaced. "All right. You're an Eisen soldier. I apologize." Then he turned and stalked off, and Elsa could hear him reassuring his men - and being reassured by them - that if it had been a real fight...
There was a memorial service that night. Possibly, there would be a larger, grander one in the days to come, but the family still gathered together in their grief. Even Teodora, obviously unwell, tottered downstairs assisted by a nurse. Even though she hadn't thought Francesca was worth a paper Guilder and felt that her boys would be safer if Marco had died in the cradle, it was her duty to be present and so she was. Pietra stayed well away from her, and only an hour or so into the proceedings she needed to be taken back upstairs. A fine Julius thunderstorm boomed most of the night; Antonio, terribly torn, finally decided to stay at home with Gianina. She had, after all, been suffering the loss of her sister nearly alone for many days. Zola had her girls at her house to comfort her; he knew she was fairly close to a couple of them. The morning brought more horror. The doctor, going to check on Teodora, found a bloody tableau. The old woman was in her bed, unveiled and in her nightdress, torn by Fate Lashes. Pietra was on the floor past the foot of the bed, crumpled like a discarded doll in a puddle of blood. There was screaming and running and summoning. The doctor, not really knowing or recognizing Donna Pietra, went first to his patient. Gianina, having come from her room just next door, made the diagnosis at a glance: no strands, no life. Pietra, she saw, was still living. She'd barely made mention of that when Angelo shoved past her to get to his adopted daughter. He lifted her up into the ruddy bed as others were removing Teodora's corpse from it and quickly went to work. Antonio could barely believe his ears when Gianina told him what happened, and never even mind her opinion that Pietra was probably a Lachesis now. He couldn't even begin to think about that. When Elsa Schuman politely knocked amidst all the chaos, apologizing for coming at a bad time, he brushed her apologies aside and asked if she would like to continue on. The prince was coming, his little brother had possibly turned on the family, Angela's daughter had probably just killed someone, and in all of this Gianina was pregnant and needed extra special care and warding. Elsa took the offer, making sure that she was answering to the Lord and Lady Donati and not their arrogant captain of the guard. Pietra was near to death, torn by six Fate Lashes. Angelo worked feverishly to sew the cruel rents back together, stopping the flow of blood with bandages until he could treat them all. After some hours, when the major work was done and he was watching her, she stirred and opened her eyes. She saw him and smiled wanly. "I figured," she said weakly, but clearly pleased with herself, "that if two things are tied together by a Knot, it doesn't really matter which is tied to which. They're both... tied together." With that, she slid back into sleep, or unconsciousness. Hours later, Angelo was convinced that she was truly sleeping. He stepped out into the hallway, not intending to go anywhere, but summoned the nearest servant with instructions to bring him some food. He went back into the room to wait, and the servant returned with a light meal - and a letter that was about a day too late. Continue to next game.
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