I had arrived at Torre Orientale early in the morning, the Illyrian sun gleaming off the tower’s whitewash. According to the owners of the neighboring palazzo, the top of the tower had been destroyed during the escape on dragonback of the short-lived Rego, Rufus Baiamonte. I didn’t believe this ridiculous leggenda, although the debris from the tower had caused severe damage to Palazzo Occienega. The family had patronized me for the last week as I arranged the clearing of the rubble and made plans for the rebuilding of their stately home. The workers were already scrambling over the scaffolding; the work had just begun, but then a cry, an interruption. A gaudily dressed servant of mine papà walked down the narrow cobbled path alongside the canal. “Ilazio, terribly news! You must come back with me to La Villa Moccenigo in Porto Caglaveri”, he said to me. “Yes, I know where my family lives. Is it news from mine cousin Salvadore in Kaliphlin?” “No, it is far worse mio Signore.” “Explain” “Tuo Papà, Signore Brabantio, was found dead!”  I felt my heart skip a few beats. It had been weeks since I had seen any of my family, Ristoro had gotten married last I’d seen him.      “Several crossbow bolts were found in him. Mio Signore, I think your father was assassinated.”     “Good to know. Why he was murdered and if anyone else in mia famiglia is in danger from the assassins are more important right now”, I replied to the servant calmly, although inside I felt like a carrack in a storm. I then told the foreman that I had to take my leave and where the plans for the tower were kept. I’d briefed him beforehand on how it was to be constructed, so I had no worries in that regard.      “If you will then, follow me, Signore Moccenigo”, he replied a bit stiffly. My response had most likely unsettled him. I would’ve been too had I known what the next six months would bring.