[Act 2] [Scene 10] [Homecoming]

[EinBein]

Gregor watches, deeply puzzled and visibly strained to follow these endless streams of names in quickly spoken Italian. He just mutters in his beard: "And all that because of the testimony of a whore. They're used to do all sorts of things for money. Even tell of diabolic rituals held by some mighty people if it helps someone with a big enough purse..."

He doesn't react to the hard words spoken against emperor Charles. He's no real figure for small people from the German countryside to look up at. Spaniard, German, who knows anyways? In between him and the common man is a long chain of guys who all matter more and who themselves aren't necessarily fond of the ruler anyways...

[Benedict]

Marco tosses some blank papers infront of Lucio. "I want you to write a letter Lucio. You will address the Soranzo brothers and set an appointment with them tomorrow at the small islets right outside of Venice. Not that you will be joining them. The hour of judgement for these traitors has come. It's only fitting it's you who will be luring them out to face their rightful punishment."

Cirillo chimes in. "Tell them to come to Campalto Island." He adds with a sneer. "One could call it ironic."

Lucio shoots a nervous glance around him, nods, then starts writing.

Meanwhile Giorgio creeps up to Ferran and whispers to him. "I haven't known you long Ferran, but you've changed a lot since Giovanni got his hands on you. Its a shame lad."
Ferran whispers back. "You're right my friend. Only if you had seen what I did you'd understand. I'm thankful - and happy for you - that you haven't."
Giorgio replies with a low snort.

Lucio finishes the letter and presents it to Marco. Before the new Acerbi leader gets a hold on the letter the Catalan -- lithe like a cat -- steps in and grabs it from Monte's hand.

"What are you doing Ferran? Give me the letter." Marco demands.
"Allow me to have a quick glance sen- maestro Marco. I'd put more trust in the bite of a viper than the machinations of this man." The Catalan quickly reads through the lines, stops midway, and scowls. The letter has several misspelled words, which seem intentional to Ferran. "He must be trying to warn them" thinks the Catalan.

He throws the letter on the table and grabs Lucio by the collar. "Tis curious that a learned man like yourself misspells common words Monte. what is your game knave? Trying to warn your friends?"

Marco picks it up. "It is alright Ferran." He puts the letter in an envelope, summons a runner, and orders him to deliver the letter to the Sorenzo household, despite Ferran's scowling and arguing.

"We should at least rewrite the letter again Marco! Better to set the trap than walk into it!" protests the Catalan.
Marco pops his eyes wide. "You want to write it again?! No, they would see through that. And there's no time."
"Not me." responds the Catalan, pointing at Lucio "Him! Without errors this time. Please understand Marco, it's you and yours I'm worried about!"
Lucio interrupts the Catalan's fiery proclamation. "Everything I hold dear is in Florence. It is for that, that I refuse."

Ferran explodes into motion. He kicks the chair underneath Lucio who falls to the floor again, the Catalan above him, pinning him to the ground. "Then I'll start carving you up bit by bit until you tell me what you wrote to them! Let's see how strong is your resolve when you squirm under the knife!"
"I have no fear of you. Nothing you can do is worse than what I've already done. So do your worst boy!" proclaims Lucio in defiance.

Everyone in the room looks at the grueling scene unfolding, too quickly for them to react. The Catalan draws his blade and chops off Lucio's right thumb. Lucio screams in pain, while Ferran's comrades look at him in terror, his face a mask of lunacy.

Giorgio puts a hand on Ferran's shoulder and says in a steady voice. "That's enough."
Ferran, wild-eyed, turns and stares at Giorgio. He gets off Lucio, hangs his head, and whispers apologetically. "You are right Giorgio. Again. I'm sorry."
The giant shoots a venomous death glare at Gasparo. If a look could kill...

Marco, disgusted at all this, speaks to Cirillo. "For the love of God, bind his wound. This man must face a court of law, not torture."
Then he turns to Karl. "After Cirillo is done lock him up and guard him with your life. Now, we all must go to bed. We have an early rising and a fight ahead of us tomorrow."