I had spent some time in Tilean villas during my stay at Pavona, mostly to entertain nobles or fair contessas with a bit of singing or knowledge of the empire, or regaling them with battles of ancient history. I even knew a small bit of the Elven tongue which I admittedly embellished so as to gain some favor with the local aristocracy. There are at least a dozen courtiers in Pavona now that speak a bastardized form of Elvish that any native born from Ulthuan would spear on the spot if they heard the crude and babbling faux-tongue of their sacred language. Anything to get some women and some gold, in my eyes, and might I add, in that order. And it was good hands-on experience, pardon the pun. 

There were villas located in the pastoral lands surrounding the city states called Villa Rusticaes, with miles of land allocated for the growing of cash crops and luxury goods for the wealthy landowner to pick at their leisure, viticulture being quite popular. The more common, city based villas were Villa Urbanae, small estates cordoned off by lush hedges and small gardens in the cities, often used as sumptuous homes for the politician on the go who couldn't afford the time to leave the walls of the city. I had found the ladder in this case, and I was hit with a wave of deju vu as I scaled the wall and slid through the hedges, something I had done more than once in my days at the university. At then as now, it was to look for a beautiful woman. I suppose I was not much different these days. 

Stepping in, I found the estate was made in the Martius style. A courtyard decked with potted plants from far off lands, hugged by a multiple columns holding a curved arch at the back of the small square in the style of the old tilean theaters. The second floor had an open hall that served as a roofed balcony overlooking the stone-floored yard, with chairs and oil lamps ready to host a party. All of this was fairly typical. What wasn't typical was the vast majority of the imperial gold in a cart at the very center, guarded by four men. 

I froze. I knew they had seen me, at least initially. Then I looked closer, and saw not only had they not moved, but they were either asleep or dead, positioned there by some unknown player. 

"Monsieur!" I heard, nearly ripping my soul from my body. I flinched in fright and my eyes shot up to the second floor balcony. I saw the smiling face of Guy Du Ponce there, bedecked in chainmail armor and handsome surcoat. His sword at his belt and eyes off-putting in their cheer. "What in the name of ze Lady are you doing here? I had thought you had left with your Imperial friends! It pleases me to see you are well." 

He began to walk across the expanse of the aisle until he reached the stairs leading down. 

"It pleases me to see you are well too," I said, my mind racing. "And evidently very rich." 

"Well, I did not have your luck, you see. I could not escape in time, so I had to make eh, certain alliances, no? I have been tasked with guarding the treasure. But, you did not tell me why you decided to come back." He reminded me, stepping down the last step and approaching me, as if to embrace me in his casual gladness. He seemed perfectly aware of the bodies, or unconcerned his men were still as statues.

"You know how it is, a woman gets you under her spell and a man does crazy things." I said, and Guy huffed a very sincere laugh, looking into my eyes and shaking his head. For a moment, I thought he was about to tell me a terrible truth, something gnawing at his soul. But a heartbeat later, he merely said: 

"You have no idea how right you are, my friend," and before I could gauge the meaning of his swords, he threw a punch at my face. His fist was decked in mail and I was notably unarmored, but luckily it was only a glancing blow. I staggered and dropped my staff, bracing myself on the gold cart. When next my eyes whipped back at him, he was already slashing at my neck with his sword to finish me. I yelped and threw myself on the ground, his longsword biting into the wooden panel of the cart. He yanked at the blade, but pulled it out a second too slow. I tackled him from below, trying to flip him over. He struck my back with the pommel of his sword, but I did not stop my grappling until his feet were in the air and he crashed onto the stones heavily. 

Taking my staff, I spun it and brought it down, hitting the knight on the side of the helm. The blow either dazed him or killed him, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that Camilla had to be here. He had no reason to think of me as the enemy unless he had what I was after. Sure, he could have the gold and wish for me to keep permanent silence, but a Brettonian knew the importance of chivalry, and as strange as it sounded, I was in the middle of a chivalrous act. I looked past him at the gold, admired its beauty for a moment, and then cursed and turned back to run inside. I did not pay much attention to the decor. It was typical of most villas, paintings, windows, couches one could lounge or make love on. Instead I threw open every door I could, finding naught but papers and cabinets of food. I grabbed an apple and devoured it as I ran upstairs, having momentarily forgetting how hungry I was. 

The first oak door upstairs I opened, I dropped my half eaten apple and saw Camilla. The woman had collapsed by the side of the bed, blood caking her neck and hand. 

"Sigmar no," I said, the words erupting from my throat before I realized what I said. I hurried over to her and dropped my staff, gently cradling her head so it could lay on my lap, examining her. I wiped away the blood, momentarily relieved that her throat had not been slit. "Camilla? Camilla, wake up! If you die right here I will be livid as hell, mark me! Camilla!" I shook her gently, a hint of desperation in my voice.