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- No, it can't be happening... please say you're wrong...

Marco takes a few steps back staring at Ferran bluntly, until his movement is blocked by the wall. Then he collapses and sits on the ground, face hidden in palms.

- That's all my fault, should've been more careful! I told him it was risky... I should've not let him go on this ship! And then I've failed him again, not coming to rescue in time... all my fault... - he breaks down, crying.

"Gregor!" Giovanni scolds the soldier, apparently understanding what he muttered. "Make yourself useful and fetch Maestro Gasparo."

"Continue your work, doctor." Giovanni commands in a flat tone. "Consider it good practice." The doctor nods his head and goes back to stitching the wound closed.

Giovanni turns to Marco, finally. At first he looks like he going to try to comfort the distraught man, but he can't pretend to share the stranger's pain. Instead he says "I pray you will stay as my guest at Pico castle this evening. Mourn your loss tonight and on the morrow we will discuss what is to be done next."

Marco stands up and tries to recompose himself.
- Thank you, Don Giovanni.
He looks at Ferran one more time and then turns to leave the room and head to where his host takes him, taking off his gambeson and preparing to take a rest.

Gregor briskly walks off without further words, he's pretty sure where to find Gasparo at this time of the day.

Gasparo is found in one of the smaller studies within the small fortress. He stands hunched over a table that is presently piled thick with books and papers, clearly looking for something. Even now, he wears the cinquedea belted across the small of his back -- though his jack and doublet are left to hang open. He turns to acknowledge the footsteps when they stop, glancing at the mercenary and nodding his understanding. They were not of yet on any kind of social terms with one another; his presence could only mean that the master had summoned. He gently closes the heavy tome and turns on a heel, following swiftly behind.

Giorgio sheepishly raises a hand and asks:

"Is it possible for someone to look to this gut wound I seem to have sustained?"

By the time Gregor and Gasparo return to the tower the doctor has finished working on Ferran, who lies motionless on the large oak table. Blood drips from the head of the table, pooling on the polished tiled floor.

The doctor has Giorgio remove his blood soaked shirt to inspect his wound. "You're lucky it didn't pierce your bowels." he comments. Gregor notices for the first time that Giorgio has a katzbalger hanging from his belt; the signature short sword of the landsknechte.

Giorgio grunts and grimaces as the doctor does his work.

"I've had worse" he growls through clenched teeth.

As the doctor finishes his work, Giorgio adresses him directly.

"How did he do what he did? How did the Spaniard speak as though his worst ailment was a sore throat? The man was nearly decapitated, I saw it with my own eyes."

The doctor doesn't seem surprised. "Some men go quietly. Some men muster all the strength they can for the last stand. You friend... he was a fighter, right to the end. It is a miracle he held on as long as he did."

Gregor darts a black glance at the doctor: "There are no such things as miracles or mercy. Not for ord'nary killing folk like him or us." he makes a gesture involving Giorgio and himself. "Just the desperate will to go on. Sure as hell, the devil sits ready to collect our souls..."

Gasparo watched the whole thing in his customary silence. He rarely spoke unless he felt a thing needed saying. Sharp eyes darted about the room, watching the doctor's motions. He was a student of the medical arts himself and took some interest in such things. Far more interesting were the strangers -- the fallen Catalan, the German. The number of foreigners in this fair city seemed to increase by the day. Eventually he came to stand by Don Giovanni, waiting beside him as though he were the man's shadow.

Giorgio looks to Gregor:

"Aren't you just the brightest little ray of sunshine" his voice dripping with audible sarcasm.

He scoots himself off the table and stretches, wincing and putting a quick hand to his stomach. He shrugs off the protests of the doctor and continues.

"Speak for yourself German. I've found something worth fighting for. So did Farran."

Giorgio's visage takes on a thoughtful cast as he continues.

"That boy was reckless. Foolish. But damned if he didn't die doing the right thing. You would do well, German, to watch what you say about him, both to me and to Marco..."

He glares, "...lest you end up 'dead meat'."

With a sideglance at Giorgio's Katzbalger, Gregor replies: "Having a guilty conscience for fighting with the Germans?" he visibly resists the urge to spit on the floor. "And then you dare to threaten me within the walls of my master's home? If I were not bound by my Ehrenwort to serve the master, I'd show you to the grave here and now, brute." He takes a step forward, a hand at the hilt of his Basler.

Gasparo watches the two with increasing interest, right up until the moment Gregor steps forward. A breath later, he's crossed the the distance and standing beside Gregor. He places a light hand on the man's shoulder, as though a word of caution. "Gentlemen, I believe this room has the scent enough of blood without the need to spill more." He spared a glance back towards Ferran on the table and the gore pooling on the floor. His attention returned to Giorgio quickly enough, evaluating his wounds first before meeting the man's eyes.

"My master has taken you in and offered you the hospitality of his home and his physician. He's had your wounds tended to and done for your companion what is capable of doing. Is it custom from where you come to repay hospitality with idle threats?" Rather than an accusation, the words were delivered in a tone that seemed to convey bored curiosity, as though this provincial mercenary were another specimen to be studied -- or dissected.

Gregor stops dead in his tracks, but loses none of his tension. His hand still hovering above the weapon. He waits for Giorgio's reaction.