TalusMoonbreaker

Tire treeeeeee! This looks excellent Louis! Croissant pieces for snow is fun.

Sorry for the late reply all. University has been keeping me quite busy lately. Thank you! I love Gelato. I'm glad your day was improved :D Thanks! I have limited supply of those colours so small size was necessary. Additionally, I've noticed that the towns of Cinque Terre have lots of small alleys crowded with vibrant buildings, so I wanted to recreate that feel and, it makes it cute! I didn't have time to write a full story as I built and photographed this right at the end of winter break but, I am glad that you like the minifigs! They're fun to make. It was quite difficult to arrange them as I photographed this outside similar to L'Arco della Vittoria. Thank you! The white accents felt right for the scene and were quite incidentally due to having many white pieces but as Oogway says: "There are no accidents" so I'm glad it worked well with all of the colours. Thank you! I take inspiration from real-life Italy. Grazie mio amico! Dark blue is one of my favorite colours though I unfortunately have very few parts in it. Hopefully, I'll have more time for building this year, but we shall see. I started another project, this time Japanese-inspired but I don't know when I'll complete it. I look forward to one day seeing Arama's retribution! Yay! I'm glad someone recognised the source material and am honoured that you took the time to comment about the various elements. I have lots of fun building the minifigs and inventing little lives and roles for them. Captain Cockatrice is one of my favourites too and she now proudly commands the pirate ship set - one of the few I display due to its quality and fun! Plants always help to brighten up a dull space and bring more life both in lego and reality! Thank you! I'm glad you love it. Thank you! I appreciate the feedback. I'll have to experiment around with different minifig setups so that it looks bustling but not so as to detract from the overall build. I agree about the harsh shadows, but I didn't have the time (or knowledge) on how to make it better. Another thing to experiment with and I'll see how I can improve for next time!

Kahir88 - 1 point simon_s - 1 point Tayaya - 1 point

Finally built something again on a uni break! (Might write a longer story for this moc later if I find the time!) Guess I could also throw this in for 2F though it's a bit cheery for such a forlorn and perilous coast. And welcome @stria! I look forward to seeing your builds and stories featuring Aletta and the Bernolfi family!

Although much of the lands west of the mountains are left dry and desolate, the people of Nascosta have managed to eek out a living as fishers as vintners among an inlet in the coast nigh the dens of fierce pirates. Similar to the coastal regions of eastern Varlyrio, the buildings are constructed of strong stone and painted brightly. It is a haven for those who wish to live peacefully or continue their illicit deeds under the noses of those more powerful than them. And then there are those who see it as a nice get away from all of the sand and just wish to enjoy some focaccia and local wine by the sea. Grazie mille for looking!

Zilmrud - 1 point W Navarre - 1 point Aurore - 1 point

Kahir88 - 1 point Louis of Nutwood - 1 point Simon_S - 1 point

Grazie! We'll see. Thanks! Thanks! Will do and thanks! It was definitely a challenge to get everything to mesh neatly, especially since the walls and floor aren't actually connected. I built it over the span of a few evenings. Probably more time than necessary, but I wanted to experiment with colours, interior details, and the floor. Thanks! I definitely hope to do a much grander one sometime in the future.

Previously Brabantio looked upon his youngest son’s face, an eager look he saw as he softly opened the door to his office. The warm morning light floated in through the window by his ornately messy desk, strewn with countless blueprints and legal documents, some even from projects finished years ago, but one stood out among the infinite pile. It was a simple scroll completely covered with lines drawn in complex geometric patterns and several notes in a nigh illegible script. It was also unique, in that it didn’t come from Brabantio Moccenigo, famed architect of the Eastern Isle, but from suo figlio, Ilazio, who bore no fame, but one day would. He smiled. “Papà! Is it today? Has it at last come?” Ilazio asked enthusiastically. Although he already knew the answer, it was why he was allowed in the room at all, which was locked to the rest of the famiglia. “Certo, sei pronto!” Brabantio chuckled, affectionately ruffling his son’s raven hair. He too had long waited for this day, it was always his wish for at least one of his children to keep him from loneliness in his work. It gladdened him that Ilazio had a genuine interest, especially since he knew that his eldest, Ristoro Domingo, wouldn’t partake of his own freewill. Out of his pocket, he pulled out a fine silver inlaid key attached to a velvet and black tassel which he then presented. “You truly are ready. I entrust you with this, it is but one of two keys to this room. I possess one but this, this one is for you.” The young apprentice marveled at it before stowing it. He had been dreaming about this moment but finally he was of age to be let into his father’s company. Many a lesson had he skipped to imagine towering structures, ornate palazzi, whole worlds; and now he could make it happen! Unlike his older brother, who had no interest in the family business or any for that matter, he was determined not to fail. His father went to the desk and deftly grabbed two items, the parchment that stood out, and a simple leather bound tome that he put in the crook of his arm as he walked back to Ilazio. The floor plan he recognized, but not the book, was this his father’s secrets of the trade? “The book, what’s in it?” “Open it,” he said, handing him the leather book. At Brabantio’s suggestion, he opened it to discover a vast amount of pages but oddly, most of them were empty. After quickly flipping through it, Ilazio discovered only a few words in the volume’s entirety, inscribed in bold characters on the first page: Nome dell’architetto. “Papà, why is it empty? I thought this was a book full of your teachings.” “That is up to you,” he replied kindly. “For indeed, I know what you’ve accomplished during your lessons mine son. And fret not, abbastanza presto, it will be full of what you have learned and, naturalmente, any ideas that you might already possess in that wonderful mind of yours, and those that will blossom as your skills grow.” “Now, let’s discuss this,” Brabantio said, holding the intricate blueprint. “I have a few suggestions and also a pressing inquiry.” He led his son to one corner of the room where there was a table which, unlike the desk, was fairly tidy and clean. He laid out the blueprint that Ilazio had drafted before Brabantio was willing to take him into apprenticeship and held it in place with a few objects that he quickly snagged from the nearest shelf. He stroked his already greying beard, long enough that it almost touched the tabletop, before beginning. “This is an exquisite palazzo. I recommend that you increase the amount of windows here and move the staircase to a more central position, say here, in the main atrium,” he said, pointing at the corresponding spots on the plan. “I must inquire, as a formal gesture, would you mind me keeping this for future reference? There are a few more changes that I’d personally make and anything per a future contractor’s specifications, and of course, other decisions such as specific materials and the colour scheme that would need being made. You will be credited when it’s unveiled, consider it our first commission together.” “I would be honoured, padre!” Brabantio hugged his son kindly and smiled, this was truly the happiest day of his life, and he guessed his son’s as well. “Now, for your first lesson. Cominciamo.” .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Sfortunatamente, to this day, several years after Brabantio had brought Ilazio into his confidence, that specific palace lay unfinished, forever a skeletal wraith that stared forever like its now dead maestro had once at the looming tiger on the horizon. I had not been back to my family estate since the consequences paid of my failed attempt on di Carlo’s life and kidnapping of Fiorello de Cioto. The villa had been restored to us from the greedy Ziccardi after my rather convincing argument to the city council, or more accurately labeled, the use of my new power in the name of giustizia. Besides, he had plenty of houses, one less wouldn’t hurt. I sighed, it was good to be done with that, that soul-sucking path of destruction, even though I fully knew that Arama would eventually escape, but perhaps for the better? Either way, she was relentless. And Aurelia would be too if I hadn’t shown up in the dark hours of the night. It had been two months since I'd last spoken to her on the day of ascension. “Zio,” she whispered softly. “Will you teach me?” “Like mine father did to me,” I promised. “Sì, it will help indeed.” “Don’t die, not like nonno.” “Never,” I said, shaking my head, vowing silently by Sana Argenta to not repeat Brabantio’s deadly error. I seemed to be collecting these promisses. Then I stood up and went to the ornate desk, grabbed a blank, leatherbound tome from inside and presented it to mia nipote. “Turn your dreams into realtà.” She gleamed and flipped through the pages eagerly, she had been begging Marsilia for months, and in a letter that I’d sent after my ascendence, finally convinced her to consent. Suddenly, a knock came at the door. I desperately hoped that it wasn’t Ristoro, that would only complicate things. Quickly, I hugged Aurelia, who replied with an almost mute “thanks,” and then opened the door. A breath of relief escaped my lips. It was only Marsilia. Her eyes wandered dreamily about the room for she had never been permitted inside questo asilo and then came to rest on us. To Aurelia, she whispered a few kind words who then hurried out of the room, waving a quick good night to me before she was out of the door. “Ilazio, it’s so good to see you again,” she greeted me sweetly. “What are you doing here so late, il mio Rego?” “Aurelia wanted to see me,” I replied. Then with a wry smile I continued. “Also, I needed a respite from the affairs of the guild.” “Only two months in power, and you are already tired!” she laughed. “Yet, you shouldn’t be here. I know you possess our best interests at heart but Ristoro is suspicious, especially after you entrusted your family’s casa to me and not him. He sees you as a hindrance to his family.” “I know what lengths I’ve gone to for family, I don’t want to learn what my brother would do,” I responded. “But first I need you to tell me,” I halted, knowing that whatever knowledge I might gleam could be another tragedy, but regardless I pressed forward. “How is my mother? I presume she’s still in Veniera.” Marsilia’s face suddenly grew sorrowful. “Ilazio, I’m really sorry, she was extremely weak when I left home. Her latest ailment, I fear will be her last.” That was like an arrow to the chest. I fell into the nearby chair, my face going to my hands, tears freely flowing. I wiped the tears on my tunic sleeve and sniffed, whispering, “And so the Kolgari blood fades…” “Che cosa?” she asked, confused as she drew up a stool and attempted to comfort me. “Mia madre has drops of blood from the Sunken City in her veins, I too possess a small amount, it’s how come she hails from a long line of healers, but neither she nor I can heal ourselves, or anyone around us it seems,” I explained. Marsilia pulled out a fine cloth and gingerly wiped my cheeks. “And yet I am Rego,” I muttered to myself afterwards. Silence engulfed them for a moment, a moment in which Marsilia began to understand the mind of her cognato. “What have you done!? It seems to have driven you mad.” “Vendetta is a path of destruction, even in the name of love for others, but I gave it up before bloodshed. I… I couldn’t kill her even though what she took from me was priceless. All I have for her is pity.” I quietly confessed. The tears had stopped, mine emotions now cloaked in darkness. I slowly got out of the chair, attempting to steady myself by grabbing Marsilia’s shoulder. “I should leave.” “No! Don’t leave us,” she cried. “Look, I understand, but we need you, Aurelia at least! You, Ilazio, must teach her your trade so that her future is secure, regardless of your brother. Please! At least promise me this.” “Be careful what you ask of me,” I said wryly. An oath was a dangerous thing in my hand. “Then be careful,” she replied. “Sì, io prometto,” I said, squeezing her hand. Instead of exiting using the ajar door, I opened the window, pulled my hood over my head to conceal myself for the short journey back to Illaryian, and silently mouthed “addio” to Marsilia before closing the window. I clunge to the window sill for a moment, my feet on a thin ledge. From the corner of my eye, I saw Aurelia in a window across il cortile, she smiled at me as she stroked the feathery neck of a dove. it was probably injured. That smile, maybe, just maybe everything would be alright. Feeling much better, I waved buona notte to her then swiftly hopped to the ground, and ran out of sight. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. As the figure of Ilazio faded into the deepening night, Marsilia shook her head, laughing to herself and wondering once again if her kindness to Ristoro had been an error. Maybe, just maybe, this family needed her… Suddenly, before she could finish her thought, the door was forced open, it clangled loudly against the wall, which afterwards would require a fresh coat of paint. Then, a figure leapt into the room, brandishing a small dagger. Despite his rather dramatic entrance, he tripped and knocked his head into the still messy desk. Ristoro screamed in horror as he realized that he had accidentally stabbed himself. His hands clawed the desk as he attempted to stand, but he was settled down as Marsilia went to comfort him. “Where’s that thief!” he cried out rather nervously, his attempt at sounding brave failing quite miserably. “Ristoro, calmati! There’s no thief,” she soothed him as she carefully pulled the knife out of his leg, which she promptly tucked away in the folds of her dress. Then, Marsilia set to cleaning the stab wound. Throughout the process, Ristoro squealed. It was much like when she healed him upon their meeting in Veniera, including the great amount of foolishness which made her impromptu medical aid necessary. “But there was someone here, sì?” “It was only Ilazio, pazzo,” she laughed. “He simply needed someone to talk to, that’s all. Keeping secrets has made you two quite jittery. Now please, hold still.” To be continued…

Thanks! The lighting is curtesy of a rather cooperative sky. I must credit W. Navarre for being the one to get me to take the photos outside. Glad you noticed all of the little bits of architecture!

Thanks! I do love cheesy slopes and I’ve seen crests in many European buildings so I decided to add them in the Varlyrian colours. The slopes are actually navy blue. Ah, I see. No worries. Thank you! The seat back isn’t held in so it can be finicky but looks good. Grazie! Yeah, you can’t really see most of it. So here it is now:

Yay! Really glad that you noticed Luca and Arama hiding in the build. Yeah, I would’ve but the dark orange/nougat side is only six studs long so doing a proper shoot would reveal that. Grazie, I had a ton of fun making them, though I didn’t enjoy setting them up multiple times when bumping the table which was quite wobbly, thankfully the build didn’t topple off the table or break in transit. Hehe, my version of Arama looks particularly mischievous! On purpose naturally. I won’t have as much time for building here in the near future but rest assured I’ll make the most of it and build when I can, it’ll be exciting… hopefully. I already have a few ideas, some of which you’ll like… Viva Varlyrio! Thanks! Those were really enjoyable to design and play around with the colors. I forgot to mention this but the ground mosaic was inspired by Piazza San Marco in Venezia (Venice). The arch was painful to properly align for the top curved section (and figure out where to attach the flex tube) so glad you appreciate it! Thanks! Making it colourful like Venice and other Italian cities was fun. I think the only not fun part was the arch, otherwise this is probably the most fun I’ve had with a build :). Grazie! Cheesy slopes! Even if one can’t really see the stained glass in the main shot I wanted to do one. The guards took a few tries but after a bit of research I got this design, they’re my favorites too!

Now this is exciting! Especially that final line. The portrait is very fitting, and adds to the quaint cuteness. (Although that rat might be detracting to some stuffy patrons.) I am interested in where you hid the battery or whatever is powering it, is it Kolgari enchantments or gnomish tinkering?

Like di Athena de Cioto, these complex conspiracies, get my blood pumping! I was really intrigued to see what lay ahead for this final build and it’s cool to see it last unveiled! As usual epic figs and nice details, so much fun stuff in a cute small space, compliments I give to all of your vignette trio (More comments for the build on Flickr, no need to repeat). I’m m really glad that you agreed to going on this crazy, adventurous ride with me, was a pleasure to work with you too and tandem-write this story! Thank you so much for inviting to that first collab back in August or September (posted before November), I can’t exactly remember; Ilazio wouldn’t be half the character he is if it weren’t for you (and Arama!). I look forward to the future although there’s a giant target on my back now, but that’s the fun part! (I’m so excited to see what your dear Cioto makes of this situation!) Grazie mille mio compagno di cospirazione! Viva Varlyrio! Verso il futuro!

Previously... L'Ascensione dell'Architetto Part VI I stood waiting behind the closed main doors to L’Arco della Vittoria that guarded the ingress to La Via Grande which led directly to the Palazzo Reale. Even through the thick stones, I could hear the roar of the people. Behind me, Il Guardia Reale, headed by Arama’s brother, Aluysio De Cioto, who was frowning in distrust, obviously not interested in serving a new Rego and only doing this for his sister, stood at attention. Then, a herald with a horn stopped next to me and whispered, “Shall we begin, mio Rego?” “Avviare,” I commanded, motioning for my entourage to follow. The gates began to open, letting light and the noise of the crowds seep into il cortile outside the main gate. Triumphantly, the horns blared, and with that, we began marching towards the Palazzo Reale and the end of the old era had begun. Luca di Carlo was a Rego without a supporter. In fact, I was worried for Arama. I looked back briefly at the Captain of the Royal Guard. Wasn’t he supposed to be with his sister? She wouldn’t be safe all by herself. I bit my lip and felt myself shrug involuntarily. As we paraded along the strada, I heard many cries of, “Viva Varlyrio! Viva la Gilda! Viva il Rego!” I simply smiled as I walked past the crowds. Then all of a sudden at one point I saw Arama. For some ragione, she was standing next to Ristoro and Aurelia. I grinned and waved at mio nipote and Arama, who both seemed to be enjoying themselves. Arama smiled sweetly back at me. Ristoro, gave a slight nod, but otherwise frowned. Even though he was part of why I had succeeded, he seemed to not want to celebrate the frutti del suo lavoro. I made a mental note: I would deal with mio fratello later. A slight glance backwards revealed that Arama had left. Non era preoccupante. If she could make it through the crowd alive she would go to Luca. That was where I wanted her to be. There with her fellow murderer, Luca di Carlo… A kilometer later and we had finally arrived at L’Arco dei Rego Varlyrio where many ufficiali and members of the powerful famiglie stood haughtily before the impressive gates. Alesio de Fiori walked out from among them and quitened the gathered throng of Varlyrians from across the guild. I wondered if this brought him back to when he had worked to get di Carlo in power, which worked out disastrously for his family. I, on the other hand, intended to honor our alleanza. I had no choice, for now. “Amici, my fellow Varlyrians,” Alesio smiled, “we are gathered here on this most momentous occasione to witness a new era of our history! As you all have been made aware, our previous Rego, Luca di Carlo, betrayed us.” I felt Aluysio De Cioto staring at my back and my hand tightened around my sword. I had told Arama that it was only for ceremony. It was the same one that had cut through her side days ago. Alesio continued, “His closest accomplice was una assassina. Arama di Athena De Cioto!” I smiled slowly. It wasn’t my fault if there were others who didn’t keep their part of the alleanza, was it? I’m afraid that every word Arama had said had been used against her, and perhaps, her name was the most vilified in all Illaryian on this day, even above that of Luca di Carlo, the treacherous Rego who the people wanted no more of. I thought she was lucky to have escaped with her life… so far. There were guards, not the Royal Guard, on their way to the Palazzo Reale right now. They would keep her safe: and they would make sure she didn’t escape. I hadn’t explained to the powerful families how to get the populace on our side. They had used the weapons that Arama herself had provided. Did she think a word was going to stop anyone from getting what they wanted? She had confessed herself that it hadn’t stopped her. Another powerful family head was speaking now. “…aided in the death of the Tiger of Illaryian! He betrayed his allies who made him the popular Rego that he was!” There was a pause and an ominous murmur ran through the crowd. Most of them had already heard rumors, but this was real. “That is all about to change. I present to you, the architect of Varlyrio, Ilazio Moccenigo, son of the famed Brabantio Moccenigo, cui anima requiescat in pace, and now Rego of Varlyrio!” The throng cheered joyfully, joined by glorious fanfare from the trumpeter. I then took off my feathered hat and kneeled before Alesio De Fiori as he placed a wreath upon my head. It was heavy to wear, and perhaps an uneasy quiver ran through me. But I would do what was right. For Varlyrio! I stood and turned to face the crowd as their king. “Viva il Rego!” .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. “Viva il Rego!” Luca rolled over and jumped out of the comfortable cushions. He had lain down in full clothes, and now he thought he heard a ruckus outside his window in the streets below. He pulled up his cuffs and leaned out over the street. “Viva Ilazio Moccenigo! Viva il Rego di Varlyrio!” Suddenly a girl caught his eye. It was Arama! He started. What under heaven was this? Arama looked back and forth, but there was no way to get into the palazzo quickly. She looked up with decision in her eyes. “No, Arama, you’re mad, you can’t do it, hurting like that,” Luca said to himself, bending farther out of the window. She was climbing up! “If you fall you’ll die!” Luca called out. “So will the person I fall on,” Arama said impertinently. She skipped in through the window and Luca put his arm around her to help her in safely. “You always keep my heart in my throat,” he said, taking a deep breath and tossing himself back onto his bed. “‘Viva Ilazio?’ What is this?” “This means we have to go,” Arama whispered back at him. She looked at the window. “What?” “The same way I came in,” she said. “Arama, why are they calling Ilazio Rego?” “Because he is,” Arama said lightly, acting as if Varlyrio wasn’t crumbling under their feet, “don’t worry, I guess he’ll make a good one. Quick, throw a hood on.” “I don’t carry those things around here,” Luca said with a little disdain. “Then good thing I brought one for you,” Arama grinned. “Quick, cut your hair, the populace wants you dead.” “Che cosa? And you?” Luca asked with a worried look. “And me,” Arama whispered. “Accidenti. What about the Royal Guard?” “I don’t know!” Arama cried urgently. “Aluysio was supposed to be here! It must have been the Conzagas with a false message. It just makes it that much more dangerous for us. Listen!” Arama cropped off his hair with a knife she had brought. “They’re breaking in below!” Luca threw a cloak around himself and jerked the hood on and Arama pulled hers farther over her face. Arama nodded to the window. “I’ll go first,” she said. “No, neither of you will go, I think.” “Accidenti!” Luca’s sword flashed out of his cloak and Arama’s fingers curled around the blade of her dagger. “Hello there,” a dark voice suddenly muttered from behind. Arama spun around, her hand disconnecting from Luca’s. Suddenly she relaxed a little and breathed out tensely. It was Ilazio, dressed handsomely in a velvet cape and plumed hat, alone or so it appeared. Luca dragged his sword across the floor up to Ilazio Moccenigo’s collar. Moccenigo didn’t have a sword in his hands. Arama whispered into Luca’s ear. He frowned and his eyes met Ilazio’s cool ones. Did he have any choice? “Trust in me,” Arama whispered. Luca nodded ever so slightly at Ilazio and pulled back his sword, looking at Arama warily out of the corner of his eyes, his hopes extinguished. This was his last chance, and he was throwing it to the wind. What if the girl was wrong? What if the girl was right? Arama clasped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. Ilazio stood out of the way, leaving a space open to pass out through the door. “Signore di Carlo, Signorina di Athena De Cioto, buongiorno,” he said, nodding his head politely, displaying a certain charm usually reserved for gaining new contracts. “If you will follow me.” Ilazio was their last option beside the mob. But maybe, maybe if they killed him now they could make it through the window and be lost forever, a pair of incogniti. “Don’t,” Arama whispered forcefully into Luca’s ear through his hood. Ilazio just smiled slowly. He followed after the pair, although Luca was looking back at him and still had his hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his blade. Then suddenly, Ilazio stood back. “Stop there!” Era una dichiarazione, non una interrogare. The pair halted, Arama willingly, even giving a slight smile to Luca, who swallowed and looked up at Ilazio suspiciously from under his brow. Then Ilazio just let his limbs relax and smiled kindly at Arama. There was a complacent glimmer in his eyes, and Arama saw it, but it was too late. Ilazio merely said in a calm and lulling voice, “Guardie, accompagnaci.” A contingent of Il Nouvo Guardia Reale, numbering around thirty, jumped out of every crevice and hallway to surround the pair, and Ilazio almost laughed as he stared Arama right in the eyes. He made a simple hand gesture and the guards seized Luca di Carli and Arama De Cioto as he escaped the enclosing circle. “Take them to the dungeon.” Arama’s knife flew up and she was about to hurl it… but she couldn’t. Did she really want to hurt someone else? Was it really worth it? What would it get her? Revenge? She looked about with scared eyes. And suddenly her knife was knocked to the floor, a pair of rough arms were around her, and it was too late. Luca looked at Arama with a doubtful smile. Her reaction sent a sudden thrill into his heart. “Aren’t you taking this too far, Arama?” “I don’t…” Arama faltered. Then she turned down her eyes from looking into Ilazio’s hard ones and her voice fell… “I don’t know.” A wave of fear washed through Luca’s body. Now what? Was this how it would all end? .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Previously... L'Ascensione dell'Architetto Part III “Il mio Rego,” a page called out from the hallway of the beauteous palazzo. “A man by the name of Signore Ristoro Domingo Moccenigo is here to see you, shall I let him in?” Luca di Carli jumped up from his desk piled with boring reports from all over the guild and opened the door slightly. “Certamente!” he replied cheerfully. “Plucky compagni, those Moccenigos. I would be glad if they were miei amici.” But Luca knew that they weren’t, and had no reason to be, his friends, and he had no idea what to expect from this Moccenigo. He reflected with an uneasy feeling in his stomach that, at least, most of his limited reports suggested that this one was less prone to violence and backstabbing than a certain other Moccenigo who he had reason to know. So Luca desperately hoped that this would turn out better than his last encounter with a Moccenigo. Either way, the young Rego suddenly wished that he still was in possession of the Kolgari medallion that had saved him once. In another moment a loud knock sounded in the room, the noise of an impatient hand on the wooden door. Luca di Carli opened the door once more, all the way this time, courteously inviting Ristoro Domingo Moccenigo into his ornately furnished room with a casual sweep of his hand. The young page made a hand signal to the Rego, letting him know that guards would be on hand, before departing, leaving him with the brightly-dressed Moccenigo. Ristoro Moccenigo looked around nervously. The Rego just sat at his desk chair, waiting for the man to speak. Luca twisted his mouth thoughtfully, half amused and half suspicious at the demure behavior of his visitor. “Mio signore,” Moccenigo gulped at last. “My brother intends to kill you.” Luca looked at the fellow peculiarly, trying to keep his simulated gape from turning into a smile. “Davvero?” “He has been planning it over the course of the last month—he wants vengeance, signore… for nostro padre!” “I already know that,” Luca grinned dryly, putting one of his boots up against the wall, “but nevertheless, grazie.” “Prego! You take my warnings for granted, mio Rego?” Ristoro warned, taken partially aback by the Rego’s careless ennui. Luca laughed. “Sempre! Your brother already killed me once, Ristoro!” Luca remarked, smiling keenly and then biting his lip. “Didn’t he tell you? But if you have dates, times, anything that could help me to stay safe from him, I’ll need that.” He looked at Ristoro momentarily with a questioning gaze. “I would be very obliged for anything of that sort.” “I will, prometto, tell you anything I know, or can learn, my Rego, but you must be careful! Ilazio does not share much with me, and every moment I know that your life is in more danger.” Ristoro then bowed, said addio, and then knocked on the door, without taking his gaze off the Rego’s cool face, to be escorted out by the page. Even if Luca di Carlo was as politically treacherous as their informants said, Ristoro was certain that the Rego had not slain his father. That was all a part of his brother’s madness. He stepped out with another bow, and Luca merrily called out an addio to him as he passed out of earshot following quickly after the affable page. Politics in Varlyrio was like playing roulette with daggers, so why disturb the delicate balance of the realm, a realm of knives? There was nothing more that Ristoro could do for the Rego at the moment, or he might get too involved and go down with the suction of someone else’s fall. Ristoro didn’t want that. He had a daughter that he wanted to take care of, and he had learned that it was hard to do so from a dungeon… let alone if he was dead. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. I had dressed in simple garb to blend in with the crowds milling about the streets of Illaryian. Because anyone seeing a hooded figure in broad daylight would assume mischief, I occasionally darted my eyes to make sure no guardie, assassini, or other miscreants snuck up on me as I waited in the doorway of a steel warehouse near the city wall. The door opened and a serving girl dressed in a dirty smock came out. She whispered into my ear, “The lords have read your message. They wish to speak with you.” That was odd—I had specifically stated in my note that I would only speak with them after my plan had succeeded, in case any spie were among them or lest they should seek to betray me. My last vendetta with the De Cioto ragazza had left me cautious of my allies. I was shocked, then, to see a representative of the Conzaga famiglia, recognizable from the crest on his lavish doublet, partly hidden by a simple, brown cloak, in the De Fiori warehouse. “We would be honored if you would join us,” Alesio De Fiori said after taking a sip from a glass filled with a new batch of Conzaga wine, finely aged like the great Fiori himself. “It is so good to meet you at last, your proposition is most intriguing, Signore Ilazio Moccenigo.” “I am duly sorry about your father, Moccenigo, we all miss him. I too look forward to this alleanza,” Conzaga interjected and raised his glass in respect for my papà, Brabantio Moccenigo, who I had planned and built great wonders with when he still roamed la terra. “When the news reaches the far corners of Varlyrio, many others will flock to our banner,” Alesio said with satisfaction, for the wine or my vendetta I could not tell. Either way, I gave a slight smile to those gathered in the warehouse. “Uomini, I must bid you addio. Fortune calls,” I said, before returning to the backstreets of Illaryian. La mia vendetta pianificata was coming along so well, and this time I had left no option unthought of, no circumstance up to chance. Soon, it would all unfold. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. The door to the Rego’s personal room suddenly flew open. Luca looked up to see a panting Ristoro, quickly followed by the apologetic page. Di Carli held up a hand to stop him. He whispered quickly in the page’s ear and the young fellow rushed away. “Ristoro! Come va? What news of your dear fratello?” Luca leaned back against the wall and ran his hand through his shoulder length hair. “My Rego, it is urgent, he will strike soon, and to kill!” Ristoro said rapidly, breathing harshly. “Mio Rego, he knows something that you wouldn’t want anyone in all Varlyrio to know! That you dare not let anyone in all Varlyrio know.” Luca nodded encouragingly. “Bene?” “He knows that you spend time with the De Cioto girl, Luca di Carlo…” Luca started. “And so do you!” he said, smiling cleverly and talking calmly, as though it wasn’t the horrible surprise that it was, but rather something of a consequential nature. Moccenigo pursed his lips. “And he has struck a deal.” “Un accordo,” Luca mused, still grinning. “Please explain, Moccenigo, if you’d be so kind.” “I know not mio Rego! Ilazio’s message was cryptic, qualcosa about assassini, vintners, and forgers, but signore, I wouldn’t…” Ristoro stopped as a quick rap sounded upon the door. “Come in,” the Rego called, apparently ignoring the unfinished sentence for the moment. Vintners and blacksmiths? Luca knew who that might be! If he were right, those were powerful famiglia. The Moccenigos were becoming dangerous: should he even trust this Ristoro Domingo, a well known mascalzone dissipato? What if his information was all a ruse? He smiled with worried surprise as soon as he saw who the page had admitted into his quarters. “Salve, you came at last! Take a seat,” he said grimly to the newcomer. “Bene, Signore Moccenigo, you mentioned un accordo?” “Sì,” Ristoro replied nervously. He didn’t like the look of the newcomer, a slim girl, lavishly dressed and wearing a mischievous smile in her suspicious eyes. Ristoro couldn’t see the face della ragazza except those eyes, but he felt sure that she was frowning at him thoughtfully. She didn’t seem at all surprised at who she found all of a sudden in the Rego’s room. “But, where is your brother?” Luca di Carli asked. “It would be simplest to find him and bring him at once, to give account of his actions directly.” Such treachery as this could cost him dearly. Luca had let Ilazio Moccenigo escape once already. Ristoro swallowed, his eyes darting between di Carlo and la ragazza. Now he realized who the girl was. Beninteso! It was Arama De Cioto! “I… I know not my Rego,” Moccenigo stammered hastily, backing out towards the door while Arama glanced at him with a questioning smile. He thought he saw her hand near her boot. Was there a knife there? Did she reach for it as a simple precaution, or for a preemptive move? Ristoro didn’t want to know. “Sfortunatamente, mio Rego,” he said, nodding hastily and jumping up and down on his feet, “I must take my leave! At once!” Luca watched as the anxious Moccenigo left without another word. He had no chance or time to try to stop him. He whirled off the wall, turning to the girl leaning over the cluttered desk, and quietly whispered, “Arama! The Moccenigos know that we’re together!” “I heard that,” Arama half smiled and half laughed. “But do you think they have any proof? Could they convince anyone? Could they convince the De Fioris or the Conzagas?” Arama was trembling with earnestness. Luca knew that this thrill of the conspiracy was what she loved, and the more that was on the line, the more she loved it. She had gambled with his life before. But at least she had won her gamble. “I don’t know,” Luca said softly. “Non lo so, Arama.” “I’m gonna follow him then,” Arama said. “It’s our last chance. I wanna kill Ilazio—and I need to know where he is.” Arama drew her knife out of her boot and tossed it up into her other hand. She kissed her hand and pressed it against Luca’s cheek and he also felt the cold steel against it, and then she spun around and pushed off the slightly ajar door as she dashed towards the stairwell down which Ristoro Moccenigo had fled. As she leapt down the stairs the girl left her friend the Rego and Arama di Athena De Cioto behind. Only a nameless assassin remained, with a hood over her hair, a cloth above her nose, and a cloak wrapped around her body… and a dagger in her hand. Meanwhile Luca sat down on his cushioned chair, his eyes gazing out the stained glass windows at the skyline of Illaryian. He hoped Arama di Athena De Cioto would be safe. She had always been safe before, he reminded himself, no matter what conspiracy she got herself into—but that did not stop him from worrying. Now it looked like they didn’t stand a chance: would it really help to kill another person? What if Moccenigo killed her? Luca jumped out of the chair and put his hands against the window. He felt it tremble at the blow. He would make all of Varlyrio trembled like that! All he needed was a chance. He didn’t know if he wanted Arama to succeed or to fail. But he knew she would succeed: she always did. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Previously... L'Ascensione dell'Architetto Part II Ristoro did not know where to begin. He had promised himself, and Ilazio, that he would apologize to Aurelia and become a better father. He sighed. It had seemed so easy when he’d fallen in love with Marsilia back in Veniera. Of course, he hadn’t known then that suo amore even had a daughter. As he looked along the canal, the most beautiful in Caglaveri, from his vantage point upon Il Ponte dei Monaci, he sighed. How could he ever make it up to them? His papà, the once renowned Brabantio Moccenigo, architect of Varlyrio, had planted flowering trees along the edge of the stone streets that rose from the calm water. “I know I haven’t been the best padre,” Ristoro began. Aurelia immediately interrupted, replying emotionlessly, “You’ve never been mio padre.” Ristoro scowled involuntarily. “So, you love your bloodthirsty uncle more than me?” “I… I saw you at il Baile di Ziccardi. With her,” she told him quietly. “Oh,” Ristoro said, embarrassed, regretting the enjoyment that he had gotten out of that evening. “And Zio found you drunk.” “Zio Ilazio è un traditore. I know he’s treated you like a true father would, Aurelia, but he’s dangerous. He has already brought molto vergogna upon us. Who knows what schemes that crazed architect will devise next?!” Aurelia just stared at him, emptiness in her eyes. She seemed to do that frequently, Ristoro noted, as if she expected him to understand her senza parole. Marsilia could be persuaded—deep down she still loved him despite his sins—but Aurelia, he did not know if he could ever convince her that he truly wanted to be her papà. Ristoro got onto his knees and grasped Aurelia’s still hands, his head hung in shame. “I understand… I have been a horrific padre, a terrible husband, and… and a wretch. I lost mio papà, I squandered any opportunity to learn from him, for your nonno to be mine father. But, Aurelia, I, in tutta sincerità, hope that that same fate never befalls you!” He looked up, tears streaming from his eyes. “I apologise, mia figlia, Aurelia. I will be, prometto, a better father, a better husband, and a better man.” He stood up, his gaze focused on the sun setting over the beautiful canal. “Even though I believe tuo zio, mio fratello Ilazio to be mad, he helped me realize this truth and for that, I am forever in his gratitude.” At that, Aurelia gave a slight smile. Taking her small hand, Ristoro led his daughter off of the bridge to retire for the night. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. Later that night, Ristoro returned to the same bridge. The moonlight shone brightly over the dark, crystaline waters of Il Canale Grande. If he was to reunite his famiglia, Ilazio must not succeed with his dastardly plan concerning the Rego, Luca di Carlo, who was not responsible for the death of their padre. All of Varlyrio, even many of the Kolgari in their subterranean estates, would hunt and destroy them if Ilazio ever obtained his vengeance. By Sana Argenta, the Rego must know before it is too late! L’architetto will strike soon, and strike to kill! .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Previously... Over the next few days, il mio compagno di cospirazione @W Navarre and I will be posting episodes of a long plotted collab series. Of course, there will be a longer post with it all nice and neatly together, so we hope you guys enjoy it! Ciao! L'Ascensione dell'Architetto Part I This is but only the beginning, the beginning of one man's deadly oath unravelling... The sun was beginning to set over the capital city of Illaryian. I remembered, my father had died on a similar evening a few weeks ago. Soon, the wrongful death of mio papà would be avenged. I then began to roll up various papers, including legal documents, records, and schematics, and put up the volumes that I had borrowed during my vaste research, for con fortuna, Ristoro would have concluded a deal on the streets below. Before I left, I suddenly heard a rustle. Was I caught? Was all this, weeks upon weeks of tracking, plotting, and investigating, for nought? “Vindur,” I whispered softly. “Sei tu?” “Sì!” hissed an excited voice from behind. I gave a slight smile. The Kolgari informant had once again proven himself. “Signore, your theory about the Rego’s relationship to the De Cioto girl is correct. One source cited having seen her, peering over the balcony when sua amante declared the late Staffen Conzaga, his former ally, traitor to Varlyrio.” “What about Ristoro?” I inquired. “Usually you report to him, certo?” “Questo era importante,” the Kolgari replied, smiling from underneath his dark hood. I passed him a substantially hefty bag in return. If this failed, coin would be the least of my troubles. It faintly clinked as it passed between us, then the spy swiftly left like the wind. So, that’s how Signore Conzaga had died. The death of my fellow triumvirate, Prince Råiden the Tiger, was not the first conspiracy that Arama and her Rego had orchestrated… Earlier, Ristoro had informed me that an assassino had been sent after Alesio De Fiori, like Signore Conzaga, a former ally that assisted in the removal of the Amancios but was later betrayed. Additionally, Cadgie, another Fiori, had died around the same time. More treachery. Luca had not gained the throne through popularity, but through betrayal! His own citizens had cast shame upon the House of Cioto too. I checked the area again, making sure that only shadows had perused the otherwise empty floor, then left to discover what Ristoro had caught questa volta. Perhaps instead of wasting his time partying, he should have worked in the trade of dangerous secrets, I mused to myself. The dusk was turning to night, perfetto for maintaining my secrecy. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. I the left to discover what Ristoro had caugh questa volta. I slowly closed the door to the ancient library, the façade dating to an earlier design style, locking it with a key that Ristoro had seen forged by me. His knowledge of the Varlyrian underworld was impressive, again making me wonder at his thus squandered life. Leaning against a large vase, Ristoro held several long, leather tubes in his hands. He was smiling come un demone. “Here are the architectural plans that you fancied, fratello, straight from the vaults of Gli Archivi Reale. Those crafters of sharp steel and famed vintners have served us eagerly and well.” “Molto bene,” I whispered back. “Soon Ristoro, we strike, for everything is in place. Per papà!” The blueprint was complete. This was no longer just about the Rego: there was now more to it, a deeper conspiracy. Ristoro, however, would not be privy to this additional act of my planned vendetta… .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Previously: L'inizio preluding The Tiger of Illaryian This is a slight repost of my last three mocs/stories which are all connected. But now, they can be read in their proper order with a few things edited to improve the story! Enjoy! Gustare! Le Conseguenze It was late at night, I had said my goodbyes to mia madre and Mirco who would be journeying to Veniera with Marsilia to stay with her family. Aurelia and I were the only remaining residents, the rest of the staff had been released from our service for our funds were running out; it had been the hope that the Rego’s contracts could save us financially, ma ahimè. Because of the recent events, it wasn’t safe for la nostra famiglia anywhere near Illaryian. However, Aurelia couldn’t go back to Veniera and Salvadore was in far off Kaliphlin, so I had to take her with me and protect her. Train her to protect herself, I corrected myself mentally, it would be a dangerous life. I had told her before she went to bed that she must meet me on the bluff overlooking la baia di Illar where Brabantio was buried. “Ilazio, I know you’re busy brooding, but I need to speak with you before I go,” Marsilia said sweetly as she approached me in the hallway. “I was thinking,” I replied softly. “But that can wait. Che cosa?” She slipped me an envelope with A mia figlia, Aurelia written on it in bold cursive, sealed with plain wax. “Give this to her. She deserves, she needs, to know, Ilazio,” Marsila sighed, then muttered under her breath as she handed it to him. “And do qualcosa about your brother.” “Concordato,” I replied with the slightest of smiles. I then looked up as she began to walk towards the grand doors. She then turned her head to look back at me, saying, “addio, Ilazio.” The front door closed softly and I then resigned myself to retire for the night in the mostly empty house. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. The following morning, I walked out into the courtyard of my home for the last time, the bells ringing in the far off distance. The bells reminded me of death, the death of mio padre, Brabantio. It had only been one week since those dastardly events. I remembered my brief conversation with Marsilia, that I must leave la casa della mia famiglia and meet Aurelia on the bluff overlooking la Baia di Illar. A tomb. As I ventured further into the courtyard, I saw a lone figure dressed in a red coat, crowned with slick, black hair, and accompanied at the side by a plain rapier pacing by the ornate fountain. “Edmondo Ziccardi,” I scoffed, suddenly recognizing the figure. In a louder voice, I shouted, “Ehi, get out of il mio cortile!” “Ah-ha, the gloomiest of all the Moccenigos, what a surprise!” Ziccardi said, turning around to face Ilazio. “Is it?!” I replied vehemently. “I promise, in all sincerity, Signore Moccenigo, that your stately home won’t go to waste. The council has in fact already found a buyer,” Ziccardi said smugly. “Who?” “Bene me! Why, the buyer is none other than me!” Ziccardi said laughing. I glowered at him, my anger boiling at this plague of a man, my dead father’s rival, now solely mine. “You, you dare defile mia villa.” “Che cosa?” Ziccardi said surprised. He began to back away from me. I drew my sabre, stared him down, and said, “Don’t act surprised, Ziccardi.” “Too rash Ilazio, first you attempt to defenestrate our poor, innocent Rego, and now you aim to kill me,” Ziccardi said, a fiendish grin forming on his face. He drew his sword and swished it fancily. “Oh, this will be fun,” he said, baiting me. “Never thought I’d have the chance to beat up un criminale! Even better, one with an illegitimate niece.” He let that sink in, forcing me to make the first move out of anger and thus take the blame. Our swords clang loudly throughout il cortile drawing much attention from the townsfolk, who clamored over the wrought iron fences, paying no heed to treating La Villa Moccenigo with any respect. “So it is true?! I shouldn’t have let such refuse into mio casa, no less for un baile!” Ziccardi laughed, feigning amusement. “Oh, you must suspect me of his death, ehi!” “No! For I know that it was the Rego himself!” I replied fiercely while pressing the attack, fighting with aggressività. Ziccardi stumbled back, shocked. “Your audacity is impressive. Oh, how the house of Moccenigo has fallen.” Then, he shouted for all the people from Porto Cagliveri gathered there to hear, “Here is un traditore! Worse accompanied by una bastarda nipote! Shame to the lineage of our beloved Brabantio! The bane of our dear Rego, di Carlo!” The people murmured amongst themselves, the sound becoming unbearable. I felt like I had been stabbed, dying… slowly. Then I looked into the crowd and saw mio nipote… Aurelia, betrayal and tears in her eyes. “Guardie, un traditore! Guardie!” was the cry started by Ziccardi and then echoed throughout il cortile by the populace, once again convinced of slander against mia famiglia. Guards dressed in the rich greens of Cagliveri began to pour in from the entry, I looked around wildly, beginning to back away. Seeing my retreat, the guards advanced towards me. Ziccardi stood smugly by the fountain, clearly enjoying my, and my family’s, humiliation. “Run!” I quickly yelled at Aurelia before I ran off to the secret passages that’d get me out of town before the guards could capture me. I hoped that Aurelia would meet me there unscathed, physically at least for I had to deliver to her Marsilia’s letter. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. The sun had reached its zenith and I was sweating. I had run the length and breadth of Porto Caglaveri and found myself halfway on the main road out of town, at the base of a guard tower aptly named La Torre del Girovago across the canal from the Piazza degli Architetti. I stared up at its simple stone façade and then refixed my gaze on the door. When I’d recovered, I went up to the door and slammed into it until it caved in. A surprised guard waited inside. Quickly, I parried his clumsy and late halberd strikes, driving him outside. His footing was lost on the rough cobbles and I chose to strike, thrusting my blade into his gut which sent him into the canal with a loud splash. Then, I ran up the winding staircase and threw myself at the two bewildered guards both of whom fell with ease. I fumbled with the keys on one of the fallen guard’s belt because I was sweating profusely and breathing heavily from my nervous adrenaline and physical exertion. A filth ridden, slumbering man dressed in stained fine cloth awaited me inside the cell. Thankfully, a bucket of water lay at the door. “By Sana Argenta!” He spluttered violently. “Lemme sleep in peace! Andare via.” His head slumped back down. Again, I emptied the bucket on him, he spluttered, this time his limbs flying as he tried to get up and exact vengeance. “Oh fratello,” I sighed. “You’re a mess.” “Ilazio?” he slurred, vaguely recognizing my voice. “Fratello, what’re you doin’ here?” “While you, Ristoro were partying, I was helping la nostra famiglia. Least you could do after all of these years is say grazie.” “Il padre è morto! He’s dead!” Ristoro retorted. “You call that help?” I looked at him disgusted, mio fratello. Ridicolo. “When did you start caring? When have you ever been a proper husband to Marsilia? A father to Aurelia? A son to papà? Giammai! Never! At least I did something!” Ristoro looked back at me, shaking his head in denial. “How did you end up here anyways?” I spat at him angrily, maybe that would get his attention. “Ehi, that. A beautiful Ziccardi girl. Real nasty piece of work her father is though he could rival papà in works of wonder,” Ristoro replied sweetly. I grabbed him violently and pinned him against the filth-ridden prison cell wall. Too angry to yell, I whispered softly but with malice in every word: “Traditore, your own daughter was at that same baile! I didn’t come here because I want your help but because I need it.” Ristoro’s eyes darted as he looked at me, nervousness written all over his sweaty, squalid face. “I mean to kill the Rego to avenge our father.” “What?! And you call me un traditore?” he replied, shocked. I let go of him and he stumbled to the ground a roll of drenched parchment. I then paced around the cramped cell, thinking. Finally, I said, “No one saw me last time upon the Tiger, all they saw was a masked assassino, a common sight of late. Only for kidnapping a de Cioto child and shaming l’amato Rego have we been condemned.” Ristoro sighed as he slowly stood up. “Well, looks like you leave me no choice fratello, ancora fratello. Where’re you draggin’ me?” “To apologize to your daughter," I replied. He said nothing in return as we began our descent down the spiral staircase to the canal-side streets. It mattered not, for I had to deliver Marsilia’s letter to Aurelia and then, I could shift my focus to repairing my fractured famiglia. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. It was afternoon when I had finally arrived at the cliff overlooking la baia di Illar, Aurelia was already there, waiting, her legs dangling over the edge. I was relieved to see her safe. Before I went to sit down next to her, I went and knelt at the grave of mio padre. Then, I pulled out the envelope that Marsilia had given me late the previous night as I went to join mio nipote. The sun was fading, spreading its last light over the small harbor jutting out from the turreted walls of Porto Cagliveri, my former home. The water was so beautiful at this hour; it almost made me forget about my fierce vengeance. “Aurelia,” I whispered softly as I handed her l’involucro. “This is for you.” She looked up and accepted the letter, reading the inscription on the front before peeling off the wax. Tears welled up in her eyes as she read the letter from sua madre, even though it had already been revealed earlier this morning, it hurt more from someone she loved than from some mascalzone like Edmondo Ziccardi. After she finished reading it, Aurelia placed the letter into her mail satchel that lay upon the grass. She then hugged me and cried into my black sleeve. When Aurelia had regained her composer, she looked up at me. Is it true then? Am I a beast? I could read it in her tear-stained eyes. I nodded my head in reply. I looked down at her and kindly hugged her. I was lost. What hurt more, the loss of mine father to the accursed Rego or seeing mio nipote feeling like refuse because of the slander of a villain, slander that now everyone in Illaryian would viciously cast upon her? “You are no bestia to me, I don’t care how you were brought into this harsh world. You will always be mia adorata nipote, always.” I then let her be for a few seconds, then I pulled out a small object, a thin dagger, wrapped in fine velvet. “I know that you have no wish to spill blood, I applaud you mine niece for that. With this life, if you stick with me, it may be necessary. I am sorry, I can’t lose you too.” I unwrapped the velvet cloth and handed the dagger to her, now it was my turn to be teary-eyed. Aurelia surprised me. “Grazie zio.” She slid the dagger into a side pocket of her satchel. I knew then that Aurelia would follow me on my dangerous and vengeful path regardless of her aversion to violence. She then got up and headed over to Brabantio’s tomb. I looked out upon the mesmerizing blue bay one last time before joining her at mio padre’s final resting place, his kindly and knowledgeable visage carved onto the tomb’s face. “Arrivederci padre. I’ll see you again un giorno, someday,” I whispered with a weak smile to the cold stone and withered corpse hidden beneath. Then, Aurelia and I departed from the cliff to be reunited with Ristoro. With that complete, I had a new goal, a next step to fulfill my deadly oath. By Sana Argenta, and with careful and precise preparation, I would not fail. To be continued...

-Le Conseguenze- La Villa Moccenigo | TalusMoonbreaker | Varlyrio A Grave Afternoon | TalusMoonbreaker | Varlyrio Ancora Fratelli | TalusMoonbreaker | Varlyrio

Indeed! Glad you like it! Grazie! I got them recently and thought this was a good use. Grazie! I try :) Grazie! That’s high praise indeed! Glad you like the scene shots! Indeed it does! What will Ilazio do next? (Hehe, you already know, but that’s our little surprise.)

BROTHERS AGAIN ANCORA FRATELLI La Torre del Girovago STORY The sun had reached its zenith and I was sweating. I had run the length and breadth of Porto Caglaveri to confuse the guards. I was halfway to the road out of town, at a guard tower across the canal from the Piazza degli Architetti. I stared up at its simple stone façade and then refixed my gaze on the door. When I’d recovered, I went up to the door and slammed into it until it caved in. A surprised guard waited inside. Quickly I parried his clumsy halberd strikes, driving him outside. He lost his footing on the rough cobbles and I chose to strike, thrusting my blade into his gut which sent him into the canal with a loud splash. Then, I ran up the winding staircase and threw myself at the two bewildered guards both of whom fell with ease. I fumbled with the keys on one of the fallen guard’s belt because I was sweating profusely and breathing heavily from my nervous adrenaline and physical exertion. A filth ridden, slumbering man dressed in stained fine cloth awaited me inside the cell. Thankfully, a bucket of water lay at the door. “By Sana Argenta!” He spluttered violently. “Lemme sleep in peace! Andare via.” His head slumped back down. Again, I emptied the bucket on him, he spluttered, this time his limbs flying as he tried to get up and exact vengeance. “Oh fratello,” I sighed. “You’re a mess.” “Ilazio?” he slurred, vaguely recognizing my voice. “Fratello, what’re you doin’ here?” “While you, Ristoro were partying, I was helping la nostra famiglia. Least you could do after all of these years is say grazie.” “Il padre è morto! He’s dead!” Ristoro retorted. “You call that help?” I looked at him disgusted, mio fratello. Ridicolo. “When did you start caring? When have you ever been a proper husband to Marsilia? A father to Aurelia? A son to papà? Giammai! Never! At least I did something!” Ristoro looked back at me, shaking his head in denial. “How did you end up here anyways?” I spat at him angrily, maybe that would get his attention. “Ehi, that. A beautiful Ziccardi girl. Real nasty piece of work her father is though he could rival papà in works of wonder,” Ristoro replied sweetly. I grabbed him violently and pinned him against the filth-ridden prison cell wall. Too angry to yell, I whispered softly but with malice in every word: “Traditore, your own daughter was at that same ballo! I didn’t come here because I want your help but because I need it.” Ristoro’s eyes darted as he looked at me, nervousness written all over his sweaty, squalid face. “I mean to kill the Rego to avenge our padre.” “What?! And you call me un traditore?” he replied, shocked. I let go of him and he stumbled to the ground like a roll of drenched parchment. I then paced around the cramped cell, thinking. Finally, I said, “No one saw me last time, all they saw was a masked assassino, a common sight of late. We have only been condemned for kidnapping a de Cioto child and shaming l’amato Rego.” Ristoro sighed as he slowly stood up. “Well, looks like you leave me no choice fratello, ancora fratello. Where’re you draggin’ me?” “To apologize to your daughter.” He said nothing in return as we began our descent down the spiral staircase to the canalside streets. It mattered not, for I had to deliver Marsilia’s letter to Aurelia and then, I could shift my focus to repairing my fractured famiglia.

Grazie! I already have the next story section written out, now just have to build it now that my order has finally arrived.

Aww, very cute. Love the round, fluffy snow. BTW, what does Glorfindel‘s head look like?

Thanks guys! something I forgot to mention earlier, I used this tutorial for the fountain: http://www.brickbuilt.org/?p=10152 @Eyrezer I’m a bit confused about the blues looking too regular.