Romero

| 𝔊𝔩𝔦𝔪𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 | 𝔞 𝔗𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱

Valeriano couldn’t hide his grin at the news, and he moved his hand to grasp the hilt of Rosa as he almost believed that she had started to sing. It had been too long since he had had a proper fight. Long months of simple missions had bored him, too many soft targets who never put up enough of a fight. But here was something that he could really get excited about. The attractive Sabina was long gone from his mind, despite her rolling around on the floor with her sister just moments ago. When there was blood to be shed, there was only room in Valeriano’s heart for one woman, Rosa.

His life since leaving the life of Luca behind him had been a never ending rush, of blood, of drink, of wealth, and of women. But Rosa was the only constant through them all. He knew that she was not originally his, that that spoilt little lording had her first, but the two had come to understand each other. She yearned to be used, and he was all too happy to grant her wishes.

He’d only been half listening to the couple of other Dusthawks that had been voicing their concerns, but now that his blood was pumping, only one thought was on his mind, and he grinned again as he glanced at Valrel.

“If you want to make sure they don’t run, you know I’m the man to make sure they can’t. Rosa’s been thirsty for a long time, and I’m not the sort of man to leave any woman waiting.”

Regaining his swagger for a moment, Valeriano smirked, glancing around and catching the eye of Arelia and winking before continuing, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.

“The rest of you can worry about how to get the guns, and what to do with them once we have them. Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll handle any Thorns. How many of the bastards should we be expecting?”

The World Undone: A History of the Modern World [NRP] (1905--)

Holy Empire of Vigentino

10th of May, 1905

Bacco Schiavoni nodded curtly as the two soldiers of the Imperial Guard quickly saluted him. The two guards were young, but they stood to attention well, and their grips on their rifles were of seasoned fighters, not of nervous recruits. As they lowered their hands, the Minister of Foreign Affairs frowned slightly.

“Well met. But it’s not necessary to salute a Minister.”

The two guards glanced at each other for a moment, before the older of the two soldiers, although only it could only have been by a year or two, replied, his voice thick with the distinctive accent of northern Vigentino.

“With respect, sir, we weren’t saluting you as a minister. Rather we were saluting you as an officer of the 3rd Cavalry Brigade, sir. ‘Pope’s Guard’.”

Bacco allowed himself a smile, he hadn’t been a cavalry office for several years, both old age and a nasty gunshot wound sustained in the last border troubles forcing him to hang up his sabre. But he was still fiercely proud of his years spent in the ‘Pope’s Guard’, and his exploits while a cavalryman were well-known. He nodded slightly to both men in thanks.

“An honour to serve. Is Capitano Crivelli in?”

The same guard, obviously taking the role of the spokesman of the two, nodded, moving to open the door behind them as he spoke.

“He is, sir. I believe he’s expecting you.”

The soldier pulled the door open and gestured for the Minister to step through. Bacco nodded in thanks and stepped through, hearing the door being carefully closed behind him.

Capitano Benino Crivelli was sat at his desk, pouring over a pile of papers, but at the sound of the door he glanced up, and his face broke into a wide smile.

“Bacco Schiavoni, as I live and breathe!”

Bacco smiled at his friends reaction, stepping further into the room and holding out his hand as he laughed, the noise deep and hearty.

“It’s good to see you too, Benino. How is our Cadian guest?”

The smile faded from Benino’s face slightly at the Minister’s question, and he shrugged as he rose from his desk and shook Bacco’s extended hand.

“Difficult, unfortunately. We’ve given him every luxury, but all he does is demand that his message be returned to him, and that he be allowed to continue on to Julia to deliver it.”

Bacco frowned, shaking his head slightly as he released Benino’s hand.

“I feared as much. Do we know his name?”

Benino visibly hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words, before he finally spoke.

“We do, sir. Graham.”

Raising an eyebrow, Bacco watched Benino’s face.

“Graham what?”

The Capitano shrugged helplessly.

“That’s all he’ll say.”

Bacco was silent for a moment before suddenly speaking.

“We can’t allow a trade agreement that directly harms Vigentino to pass by us. Escort Mr Graham to the border with Melgaria, give him enough food and water to reach Cadia, and a fresh horse. Politely request that he not return until the Julian issue has been resolved.”

The World Undone: A History of the Modern World [NRP] (1905--)

Holy Empire of Vigentino

2nd of May, 1905

The ‘Sede Centrale’, the headquarters and beating heart of the Imperial Guard of Vigentino was a largely unassuming building; squat, dark and cold. Guards in the dark uniforms of the 3rd Infantry Division, “The Sons of Cogoli” patrolled the perimeter of the building, rifles held carefully as they scanned the crowds that milled around. Within the ‘Sede Centrale’, the High Command of the Imperial Guard, as well as representatives of the Logistics Corps and officers of the Infantry Division, Cavalry Brigades and Artillery Battalions that were scattered all across Vigentino, all milled through the sparsely decorated corridors and rooms filled with charts, maps and reports.

Deep within the heart of the ‘Sede Centrale’, a low-ceilinged chamber served as the nexus of the Imperial Guard High Command. A table had been intricately carved to become a topographical map of Vigentino and it’s immediate surrounding area. The mountains that encircled the northern regions, the three rivers that wound around Cogoli, and the roads that criss-crossed between the towns and cities. Pope Carlo Bocci absent-mindedly picked up one of the ornate marble figures, scattered across the map, that represented one of the Infantry Divisions of the Imperial Guard. Glancing at it, he saw that the figure in his hand represented the 7th Infantry Division, “The Pope’s Own”, and he smiled slightly, turning it over in his hand as he inspected the angular, carved face of the figure. As he placed it back down from where he had taken it, he heard the door behind him open.

It was late at night, and the ‘Sede Centrale’ was at it’s quietest, only a skeleton crew of aides, and those on urgent business, still walked the corridors. The Pope had been alone in the chamber, but as he turned, he saw a young Tenente of the High Command step into the room, a pile of papers tucked under one arm. The Pope reasoned that he couldn’t be more than a year or two out of an academy, so he did his best to smile warmly as the young officer glanced up and caught sight of the Holy Empire’s ruler standing before him.

The Tenente’s mouth fell open, the papers fallen from his hand, long forgotten. He desperately stammered, struggling to find his voice but the Pope held up a hand for silence, shaking his head slightly.

“Silence, child. I’m merely passing through.”

The Pope wore simple, woollen robes, far from the elaborate finery that his position often demanded, and as he stepped past the officer, he raised the hood to obscure his face. Finally finding his voice, the Tenente turned after him.

“Your holiness... How...”

Turning back, his face obscured in the shadow of his hood, Carlo Bocci shrugged slightly.

“I’m an old man, Tenente. I’ve had a long time to learn my way around.”

With that, he turned a corner in the corridor, and was gone, leaving the young officer staring down an empty corridor, and questioning whether he had really just seen the Holy Pope of Vigentino wandering the army headquarters at night, or whether it had just been a figment of his overworked and overtired brain. Shaking his head to try and clear the fatigue, he turned and began gathering the papers scattered across the chambers floor.

OOC: +1 to All Orders

The World Undone: A History of the Modern World [NRP] (1905--)

Tenente Generale d'artillerie Mazzano Semetti,

Your concerns are not taken lightly. With this letter rides Colonnello Fabiano Barbigia, a man you know, and a man that we hope you can trust to lead you, as a fellow Artillery Officer. He will take command of the 2nd Artillery Division, effective immediately on his arrival into Pessassa, or the delivery of this letter, whichever occurs first. We have dispatched him with one of our best maps of the area, and he will do his best to lead you to Pessassa on the best route, if you have not already arrived before this letter does, and allow you to prepare for the arrival of further artillery shells that we are dispatching at once along the road to Pessassa. Unfortunately, we cannot obey your request to remove Generale d'armata Gumesindo Berretta from his position, and we hope that you will understand that High Command still maintains that he is the best man to lead the operation, and that you will not abandon your post.

May the Angel Protect,
High Command
Dated April 7th, 1905

The Depths of Blackmire Keep - Dare You Enter?

Really like the look of this, and would love to join. Problem is I'm on holiday till the weekend so won't be able to start on a CS till then. Does that still give me time?

The World Undone: A History of the Modern World [NRP] (1905--)

Holy Empire of Vigentino - April 1905

Vincenzo de Fino stretched his legs as he rose from bed. He was pulling a lost shirt over his underclothes, when there was a heavy pounding on the door. He frowned, waiting for a few moments and almost dismissing it as his imagination until there was another heavy pounding on the door.

Vincenzo had once been a well-known figure in the town of Pefina, but after his wife's sudden death he had retreated away. The town sat in the valley far below where he had now made his home, a simple thatched house that served him fine. With a river running down the mountain past him, and a small farm that he had set up, with chickens, pigs and a garden of vegetables, Vincenzo was able to live a comfortable life, keeping himself to himself. The pounding at the door was a suprise. He had had no visitors, nor desired any, for almost three years.

Pulling on a rough cotton pair of trousers, Vincenzo limped slightly across the room, and pulled open the door. On the other side of it, stood a soldier. Clad in the resplendent uniform of the Vigentino Imperial Guard, with a rifle slung over one shoulder, Vincenzo looked the young man up and down for a moment, frowning.

"Can I help you?"

The soldier nodded curtly before replying, his voice measured and clipped.

"Good afternoon, Mr de Fino. I'm here to ensure that order is being maintained, and to ask that you accompany me down to Pefina."

Vincenzo frowned again.

"The orders perfectly fine up here. And why do you want me to come down? Haven't been down there for years."

"I understand, sir. But the Vigentino Imperial Guard have been brought in, and as a non-Julian, you are being evacuated from the region."

"Now come on, what's the meaning of this? I'm no Julian, but I'm no Vigentian either, parents are both Mashiran truth be told."

"Of course, sir. The Julian's have been rioting, and our orders are to ensure their safety passage back to their own territory, for the good of the region. But we fear it will still come to war, and have been ordered to ensure non-Julian civilians are given passage to the safety of other Vigentino regions."

Vincenzo grumbled under his breath for a moment, before shrugging slightly.

"I've heard stories of the last war that came through here, and I don't want to get caught up in the next one. Give me a second to pack my things"

OOC: (+2 to Order 1)

The World Undone: A History of the Modern World [NRP] (1905--)

Holy Empire of Vigentino - February 1905

Tenente Sebastian de Sylvia stood to attention in the high ceilinged chamber of the Methyrnia Hall, the beating heart of the region. He had been summoned, although he did not know by who, and he had arrived formally dressed in the uniform befitting of his rank. He heard the door behind him swing open, and despite his training, glanced over his shoulder, his curiosity getting the better of him. His blood ran cold as he saw the figure standing in the doorway.

Gumesindo Berretta was an imposing figure. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his jaw strong and his eyes fierce. He was a thing of legend in Vigentino, and Sebastian had been told tales of the general since he was a boy. Gumesindo was an old man now, but he still had a presence that left people in awe. In his youth he had been a hero straight from a fairy tale, the dashing commander who had amassed years of experiences leading the armies of Vigentino. He was all but undefeated, and any one of his men would gladly lay their lives down for him. Sebastian snapped his head back to face his front, straining to stand even more rigidly to attention as he heard the heavy footfalls approaching him.

He hastily saluted as the general came to stand before him, opening his mouth to speak only to be cut off by the older man, his voice a low rumble.

“I served with your father, boy.”

“He often...”

Again, the general cut Sebastian off.

“He was a good man, a good soldier.”

“Thank...”

“You would make him sick.”

Sebastian’s mouth hung open for a moment, frozen by the fire that he saw burning in. He struggled to find his voice, stammering as he spoke.

“But I... I...”

Gumesindo held up a hand for silence, and Sebastian’s words faded away.

“What the bloody hell did you think you were doing, boy?”

Sebastian glanced at the raised hand, which slowly lowered, before he dared to speak.

“They were assaulting citizens, general... I had to...”

The general’s voice was a roar, as he took a step closer to the young officer.

“You had to? You had to murder almost fifty Julian’s? Don’t try and excuse yourself, boy. You’re a disgrace.”

Sebastian was terrified, desperately shaking his head in the face of the fury before him.

“But I...”

Again the hand shot up for silence, Gumesindo shaking his head with disappointment.

“You don’t deserve to be a man, let alone an officer in the Holy Empire’s army. You’re released from duty, effective immediately. And you’ll face court martial at dawn. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

Sebastian was frozen for a moment , panic gripping his heart, before he finally found his feet. Barely remembering to salute, Sebastian all but ran from the room, his hurried footsteps echoing around the chamber.

Gumesindo Berretta watched him go, shaking his head slowly. His turned, facing the mural of the Angel of Vigentino as he frowned slightly. His voice was low.

“Has he doomed us all?”

OOC: +1 to all actions

The World Undone: A History of the Modern World [NRP] (1905--)

Holy Empire of Vigentino - February 1905

Pope Carlo Bocci leant back in his chair. Despite his position, his office was modest. His desk was not intricately carved, his chair wasn't some regal throne, and yet the small chamber served as the beating heart of the Holy Empire's power.

Two other men stood in the room, standing on the other side of the desk and carefully watching the Pope's face for any hint at his thoughts. Bacco Schiavoni, and Cino Barbato. The Minister of Foreign Affairs and the diplomat that had recently returned from his unsuccessful mission to Melgaria. The silence dragged on, Cino nervously shifting on his feet slightly until the Pope suddenly leaned forward and spoke.

"You will return to the Kingdom of Melgaria, sir Barbato, and you will remind his majesty King Simon Itonzo that you are an emissary of Vigentino. And that means you speak with the full weight and authority of the Holy Empire. You are not merely a man, you are a representative of Vigentino, and of myself, and I would expect you to be treated as such. I hope that he will prove to be more accommodating."

Cino Barbato nodded in thanks before quickly stepping from the room, leaving the two old friends alone together. The Pope managed a smile before speaking to Bacco.

"Was the world always such a mess, Bacco? It always seemed like such bliss when we were young."

The World Undone: A History of the Modern World [NRP] (1905--)

Holy Empire of Vigentino - February 1905

The High Cathedral was a buzzing hub of activity. Tens of thousands of worshippers, crammed between the towering, beautifully carved stone walls that rose up to the vaulted, grand ceiling high above them. And they hung on Pope Carlo Bocci’s every word. He closed his eyes, feeling the raw religious belief washing over him for a moment, feeling it flood his soul, burning his veins like a glorious, holy fire. Opening his eyes, and looking out over the sea of upturned faces, the Pope held out his hands.

“Go now, my children. And continue to spread the word of the angel. Sarazi to you all!”

The response was like a wordless roar, and it filled the cathedral, the echoes not fading for several minutes. Once the noise had faded away, the Pope turned, leaving the dais behind him and stepping through the modest, narrow doorway behind the alter. The room beyond the door was modest, and the heavy stone insulated the room from the noise beyond so well that the Pope could almost forget that he was still within the High Cathedral. He sank down into the well worn armchair in the corner of the room, holding his heavy head in his splayed fingers, his limbs stiff. Although he hid it from his loyal followers, he felt his age. In the stiffness of his joints, in how the night air cut into his bones and turned them to ice, how we found himself growing weary. His time as a young priest; travelling the length and breadth of the Known World; basking under the stars; living a life that he chose; was just a distant memory now.

Carlo Bocci’s reminiscing was interrupted by a quiet knock on the door, and he glanced up quickly, straightening out his ceremonial outfit, and rising to his feet before he called out.

“Enter.”

The door was pushed gently open and Bacco Schiavoni stepped into the chamber. The Minister of Foreign Affairs was a dashing man, his hair turned white with age, but he still stood tall and proud. His thick moustache had been a staple of his appearance since his time as a cavalry officer, and he still gave off the same air of command. Carlo had known Bacco for years, they had become good friends, and the Pope welcomed the man with a smile.

“It’s good to see you, Bacco. Your job has kept you busy for too long!”

“It is good to see you too, your Holiness. But unfortunately it is my job that brings me here today.”

The Pope shrugged, still smiling as he gestured Bacco further into the room.

“I admit I suspected as much. Now tell me, what do you need, old friend?”

“There have been murmuring among the ministers, your Holiness. They wish to reach out to the nations on our borders, but I thought it was best to bring the issue before you before we act.”

“Thank you for that, Bocci. But I could not agree more, we have been in isolation too long, send out our diplomats. A nation cannot survive on it’s own in this new world.”

| 𝔊𝔩𝔦𝔪𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 | 𝔞 𝔗𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱

Luca walked with a swagger down the gloomy street, lit only by the dim glow of spark-lamps. The narrow street was little more than an alley, one of the hundreds that wound through the Gray District, lined with tall, narrow and lopsided houses. But Luca paid the houses that he passed no attention, instead continuing towards the imposingly built gates that stood at the end of the street, blocking the path to a sprawling house. Two equally imposing figures stood before the gates, rough looking thugs with short, wicked knives and spark pistols in their belts. If Luca was intimidated, he did not show it, smiling at the two men as he came closer to them, his voice echoing down the street.

“Good evening, lads. I’m here to see Baldo Gabor.”

The two thugs glanced at each other, before the shorter of the two spoke, his hand going to rest on the handle of his pistol. His voice was thick and hard-edged as he all but spat out the words.

“Who the hell are you?”

Luca’s face was a mask of exaggerated shock as he stopped, three paces away from the two figures.

“You wound me, sir. Valeriano D’Ascanio at your service.”

His deep, exaggerated bow was met with blank stares for a moment, before the taller thug frowned slightly and nodded slowly. His voice was thin and nasal, unsuited to his hulking frame.

“You’re that lord aren’t you? The mercenary that everyone keeps talking about in the Drunkard’s Compass?”

“So you have heard of me! I’m glad. But I do prefer sellsword, more charming don’t you think?”

The two figures glanced at each other again, both frowning and unsure of their next move, until the shorter of the two seemed to remember something, turning back to Luca.

“What are you coming to see Baldo for?”

“To kill him.”

There was a moment of silence, Luca smiling confidently as he watched the two thug’s faces, almost able to see the cogs frantically wheeling, until the shorter one finally found his voice.

“You what?”

“Unfortunately your employer has made some powerful enemies. I am, as I said, a sellsword. And they pay well.”

By now both of the guards had their hands on their weapons, and had taken a step back towards the gate, given confidence by the hardened metal at their backs. The taller man spoke again, his voice suspicious.

“What are you telling us for?”

“Because you have a choice, my friends. Which do you value more, your lives, or his?”

The two thugs glanced at each other, but they seemed to remember themselves, and the shorter one grinned as he pulled the long, wicked-looking knife from his belt as he turned back to Luca.

“Baldo pays well too. More than enough to kill some lord who wants to play as a mercenary.”

Luca frowned and shook his head, almost apologetically, even as the second thug also pulled out his knife.

“It’s sellsword. And you should spend more time listening in the Compass. Such a shame.”

With a flourish, Luca pulled the long, thin blade of Rosa free from her sheath, and swung it a few times through the air with ease, before levelling it towards the two guards. He gestured with his free hand, a smile on his face again.

“After you, gentleman.”

The shorter thug came at him first, charging forwards and swinging the knife at his head. Luca moved almost effortlessly, the heavy swing soaring past him and the momentum sending the thug stumbling past. The taller of the guards was more hesitant, but Luca didn’t hesitate. The rapier flashed through the air, slicing across the thug’s hand, leaving a deep slash and causing the knife to clatter down to the cobblestones below. The hulking figure staggered back, but he wasn’t quick enough, Rosa flashing through the air again as Luca drove the blade through the man’s neck. Pulling it free with a flourish, Luca left the thug to crumple to the ground desperately clutching at the blood spurting from his opened throat.

Luca turned to face the remaining guard, who stood a pace away, a look of sheer disbelief across his face. The smile never left the sellsword face, and he beckoned mockingly with his free hand. Hurrying backwards, the knife falling from his hand as he grabbed desperately for the spark pistol in his belt, panic filling his eyes. Luca closed the gap in an instant, the rapier plunging into the thug’s stomach, the point protruding from his back stained with blood. Luca pulled the blade free, the guard sprawling across the cobbles. Looking down at the man at his feet, Luca shook his head apologetically. Kicking the knife and the pistol away from the thug’s reach, he dropped to one knee, leaning close as he placed his free hand on the man’s shoulder.

“You should live. Do your best to stop the bleeding, I’ll be back soon.”

Leaving the first guard trying to stem the blood seeping from his belly, Luca stepped over the still corpse of the second, pushing open the gates and striding quickly towards the house at the end of the narrow path. Rosa still unsheathed and clutched in one hand, dripping blood as he walked, Luca opened the simple wooden door of the house with a solid kick that splintered the lock. He stopped for a moment, listening in the doorway, and heard raised voices in one of the rooms up the rickety stairs. Bounding up them, he reached the door at the same time as Baldo Gabor began to pull it open. Slamming his shoulder against the door elicited a cry of shock from Baldo as he fell back, and a scream from further in the room. Continuing his momentum into the room, Luca pinned Baldo to the floor, a boot pressing down on the man’s chest.

Baldo Gabor was a fat man, his thin hair quickly receding, and there was absolute fear in his bulging eyes as he looked up at the sellsword. And he was naked. Luca held Baldo’s wild stare as he brought Rosa’s point to press against his thick throat.

“The Bevrek family send their regards.”

The rapier was so sharp that it took only the slightest pressure for it to slide through Baldo’s throat. He struggled feebly for a minute,
before lying still. Luca pulled Rosa free, and looked around the room. Obviously a bedroom, a large bed dominated much of the space, in which cowered a beautiful, young woman, desperately clutching the sheets to cover herself and as naked as Baldo was. Luca nodded towards her, smiling slightly, before wiping his sword clean and sheathing it.

"Good evening, sorry to interrupt."

The girl nodded frantically, watching him with terror as he turned and strode from the room.

By the time Luca had returned to the gates, the surviving guard had dragged himself to almost within grabbing distance of the spark pistol, leaving a trail of thick blood behind him on the street. Luca sighed slightly as he strode towards the miserable figure. Taking the spark pistol from the floor himself, Luca leant close to the man again, his voice low.

“Valeriano D’Ascanio, try and remember the name this time. Tell your friends what happened here.”

With that, Luca rose to his feet, tossing the spark-pistol away and striding back down the street, whistling a jaunty tune as he went. A dark figure stepped out of the shadows, glancing up and down the street before it spoke in a hushed voice.

“Is it done?”

Luca nodded, holding out a hand as he flashed a winning smile.

“As promised.”

The figure placed a purse of stones into Luca’s outstretched hand before melting back into the shadows, hurrying away down a narrow alley. Luca continued his tune as he carried on down the street.

His whistling stopped suddenly, and he backtracked slightly to inspect a white talon marked onto the street wall. A smile crept across his handsome face as he set off again, his tune forgotten, and his pace doubled as he wound through the streets of the Gray District, towards the ramshackle cabin known as The Nest.