Vittorio Intaglio, Heir Inquisitor

As the events of the day gave way to the evening the halls of the Inquisition quickly emptied, the few Herii who made the effort to appear had quickly left, spare one. Vasto before his departure had made an effort to tell me Cecco would be the last of the Herii to depart. I took those words to heart as it seemingly forced my hand, after all as my father expected me to apprentice under a Herus, and the rest of them made an effort to flee before I could even meet them.

My head was a mess, swirling with doubts about this trip abroad. My father said I’d been to Vietze before, far back in my youth at least. Those memories were distant of course, most of them were, for all intents and purposes I was born an Inquisitor. My adoption was a footnote, the circumstances of my birth were a footnote, and the memories that bridged the gap between them exist as nothing but murmurs in the back of my head. Likely for the better.

A knock at the door stirred me from those racing thoughts, driving the objects in my hands to the floor as I fumbled them from shock. My father’s voice crept through as the door cracked.

“Vittorio it’s quite late, have you given up on the apprenticeship?” He said, his voice confident but laced with doubt. I stood in silence for a second as I shook myself from my haze, his voice coming through again. “I understand if this is all too overwhelming for you, I sprung it on such short notice after all.”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see. “Cecco is still here, I’ll be departing with him.”

Father’s voice picked up at that. “Ah! Splendid. Is he waiting on you?”

“Uh– No.”

“Posthaste then, boy! You don’t want to leave him waiting, do you?” Father said, swinging the door open and holding out his arms. “Come here.”

I stood up to face him, stumbling back as he dove in to give me a firm hug. “I’ve been at your side as best I could, Vito. Now, how does that saying go… Something about crows and nests.” He added, redoubling his effort as he squeezed me tighter. “I love you, kid. I think everyone loves you. You’ll be a star out west, I’m sure.”

I laughed, strained by the tight embrace of my father as I struggled to hug him back. He let go soon after. “I love you too, Dad.” I said, backing off and smiling bashfully.

“Finish packing, Cecco can get impetuous when he’s left waiting and I doubt you’d want to hear him bicker the whole way back.”

I nodded, waving my father away as I finished stuffing whatever odds and ends I could think of into my bags and hoisted them over my shoulders. I took precious time to enjoy the lavishness of my room and the halls on the way to the stable, for they’d be sparse in the coming months. Arcolano once again was in my path, leaning against the wall. He stuck a hand out to halt me.

“Vittorio!” He said, bowing his head.

“Ser Ve-“

He interrupted. “Arcolano, as I’d said.”

“Arcolano.”

He grinned. “I heard you’re departing west, to shadow the Herus Cacciare?”

“Mmh, that’s correct.”

“What a peculiar choice, I had taken you to be quite sword-shy, yet the Cacciare called your name?”

“Well, nobody but Vasto and Cecco had sought me out.”

“Ah, Master Siculli! He’d have been perfect for you, he’s quite the bookworm, and the Fatto are such a laid-back legion compared to the Cacciare.”

“He’s quite endearing, yes. I guess something about Cecco called my name.”

Arcolano held his grin, chuckling and tipping his head. “Try not to chase that feeling too often Vittorio.” He said, pushing his hand against my chest. “I pray your second brain takes a backseat once you fill your father’s shoes. But, for now, chase that while you’re young.”

I blinked.

“Oh, and before you go.” His right hand grasped at his scabbard and his left hand undid the buckle that bound it to his hip. “I’m a solicitor, not a swordsman.” He said as he pushed the immaculately scabbarded blade against my chest. “It’ll serve you far better than it serves me. Gaelian design, steel through and through. With enough luck whatever bandits you face will break their blades against this.”

“You’re– so generous, Arcolano.” I said, grasping at the sword and awkwardly fumbling it.

He helped me latch it to my waist, adjusting it to the proper tightness. “Think nothing of it, Vittorio, we’ve all grown quite fond of you here. I’d be a shame if we lost you to some material failure. You’ve yet to get an eye for swords, and I wouldn’t be caught dead letting you swing around a rot iron blade you bought on a whim.”

I blushed at that. “I’m truly honored, Arcolano. And you’ve truly no need for this sword?”

“Nothing more than a sentimental piece, and I’ve yet to take a son of my own to bestow it upon. So long as you keep it sharp and shed blood respectfully you’ve done me well with it.” He said, grasping at my shoulder and giving it a firm shake. “Now, I’m sure your father said as much but make haste before Master Fania grows impatient.”

I bowed my head and rushed down the hall, the weight at my hip unfamiliar but inspiring.

I saw him standing there as I pushed through the large doors to the stable, tendrils of icy fog dancing from his lips as he let out an impatient sigh before his eyes darted to meet mine.

“About time.” Cecco said flatly.

I blushed. “A-aah, I apologize. Ser Vecci had given me a gift before my departure.” I said, right hand grasping at my swords hilt to draw attention to it before noticing the workers still loading the cart. “Wait, you aren’t even waiting on me, your cart is still being loaded.”

He turned his head to look, and then focused back on me, shrugging. “Got everything you need?”

“Of course, I was repeatedly warned to not keep you waiting after all.”

“Warned?” He said, scoffing as a smiled graced his soft lips. “I hadn’t taken myself to be so notably impetuous.”

“It would seem you’ve left that mark on everyone. I find it quite endearing.”

He shook his head. “Too soon for flattery, Vittorio.”

“Flattery? No-no… your brashness is in short supply in the capital is all. Everyone’s so…”

“Tight lipped?” He said, chuckling.

I nodded, returning his smile.

One of the laborers stopped ahead of Cecco. “We’re all done here, Master Fania. It’ll be quite a trip ahead, you’ll be trading steeds and unloading cargo at Calloia, and it’ll be a stones throw to Mezzapoligno from there.

Cecco nodded, and the laborers scattered to tend to other matters.

“Mezzapoligno?” I said, looking at Cecco as he boarded the wagon.

He held a hand out which I eagerly grabbed, feeling the unnatural chill of his skin through his gloves as he helped me up. “Don’t let the name fool you, it’s a rural backwater in the southwest. Vietze is where the studious inquisitors gather, Mezzapoligno is, for now, where the militant inquisitors gather.”

“For now?” I said, moving to my seat.

Cecco, ignoring my statement for the moment let out a shrill whistle to signal the rider we were ready. He closed the heavy drapes shut, enclosing us in the dark interior of the wagon. “The militant of us go where we are needed. Vietze though will never change, not while the Grand University stands at least. Mezzapoligno is the most convenient lodging for us while the Barbarico work the frontiers.”

“Barbarico. I had heard you mention them before.” I said, my body jostling as the wagon began to move.

“Ruffians, nothing more. I’ve little respect for them. You’d assume an Inquisitor to be sharp-witted, but all they know are sharp blades. They handle matters of intrigue like a child handles a trinket it’s mistaken for a toy.”

I nodded. “You’ve quite a strong opinion of them.”

“Rather, a strong opinion of the men they govern. The Vagians once hammered Ascadia into its primordial shape and now the Barbarico treat them like dogs who’ve fled the leash. All for the sin of stubbornness.”

“A trait you can relate to, I assume?”

“Something like that.” Cecco said, chuckling.

“Say, do you mind?” I said, unlatching the opening to a large lantern that dangled by the front of the wagon.

“Go right ahead.” He said with a dismissive hand wave as my fingers grabbed at the end of a wick, snapping them against it to scatter some flames and bring the lantern to life.

The dancing flames outlined Cecco’s frame quite well, drawing my gaze to his face for a fleeting few moments before he stared back into my eyes. I looked away and began digging through my bags for something to occupy myself.

“Fire?” Cecco said.

I nodded. “Same as my father.”

“And just about every other spellsword I’ve come across. Originality is lacking across this empire.” He said, shaking his head.

“And you?”

He laughed. “Isn’t it obvious?” He said, blowing a strand of icy hair from his view, a plume of fog pushing past his lips to part the stray hairs aside. “Frost is my domain.”

“It comes to you quite naturally; do you not fear exhaustion?”

“From what, overuse?” He said, crossing his arms. “Only in battle does that seem to matter, my body simply runs cold of its own accord.”

I nodded, grunting affirmation before continuing to dig through my belongings and withdrawing the box my brother had gifted me. It was quite immaculately made, a cavalcade of interconnected bits of wood of varying shapes and colors but no clear way to open it. A puzzle box, how thoughtful.