That was new, I felt something cold against my cheek, a gentle thumping barely felt beneath the soft surface of whatever was beneath me. My head hurt, greatly so, I felt like I’d been thrown down a flight of stairs and fell asleep at the foot of it. My senses slowly came about, struggling to penetrate the groggy haze of my recovering psyche after a night of drinking. That was skin beneath my cheek, cold, icy skin. That was Cecco’s skin. My eyes flitted up until I met his face, his mouth slacked open as he gently snored. My heart raced in my chest as I shuffled aggressively away from him, sitting up and pressing myself against the wall of the tavern, jostling him awake.

“Vittorio? W-“

“Did anything happen?” I interjected.

Cecco looked at me, and then down at himself, shirtless. “What do you mean?”

“Like, did we do anything, together. I was all… snugged up against your body. Did anything happen?”

Cecco shook his head, his white hair dancing about as he tried to get his bearings. “I don’t think so. I’d remember such a thing.”

“Even after drinking so much?”

“Speak for yourself, my head’s clear as can be.” He said, pushing himself up off the bed. The blanket slid off him, tracing the contours of his lightly muscled body. “Come on, get ready.” He added as he pulled his baggy woolen shirt over his head. “We’ve got a job, remember?”

I… couldn’t grasp how this was occurring. Why was he so coy about this all, does he go about cuddling other men for sport? I tried to push past it, it seemed Cecco was intent to at least.

“After you collapsed into bed, I went back to the wagon to retrieve your stuff. Your armor too.”

“Oh, my armor?” I said, hopping off the bed and maneuvering over to a large chest. “I… Don’t even remember packing it.”

“I had a feeling you’d be coming, your father did too. He had me pack it for the trip.” Cecco said as he pulled a cuirass over his head, letting it hang loose by its shoulder straps as he moved to attach and fasten other pieces.

I followed, doing the same wherever needed. We spent the new few minutes silently clattering about in loose metal plates before we eventually asked each other to fasten the others harder to reach pieces. I came up behind him, tightening his cuirass first, my hands dancing from his shoulders to his sides before moving to tighten the plates on his arms.

As he went to fix mine, he spoke up. “So, about last night.”

“Hmm?”

He pulled my cuirass tight. “You were quite comfortable, does the cold not bother you?” He said with a softness to his voice I hadn’t heard before.

I blushed at that. “I uh, I guess it was just the alcohol. I’m unsure.”

“Most people are scared by that, you know. They say I feel like a day-old corpse.” His voice hung for a second as he spoke.

I sat on that for a second, my heart racing in my chest as he moved on to the next piece to fasten. “I guess I’m a bit too hot for my own good, I don’t know. The cold feels nice.”

Cecco huffed. “You’re a rare breed, you know that Vittorio?”

His voice ushered a wave of cold over my neck as he spoke, driving shivers down my spine and forcing my body hair to stand on its ends, but I wasn’t afraid. I don’t know what I was, really. Is it normal to feel this way? I kept lingering on these thoughts silently as he finished off.

“Hey, Vittorio.” He said, ushering me to turn to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry if what I said was–“

“It’s alright, I was just caught up in my thoughts.” I interjected.

He chuckled as he finished, moving away from me. “It looks good on you.”

I dipped my head. “Thank you. My father curated this armor from me, Gaeliani design.”

“As is customary for the inquisition. Such fine armor is a rare find in the heartland.” He clapped both his hands on my shoulders. “Ready?”

I nodded, following his lead as he moved out of the dorm and downstairs to the ground floor of the Inn. Soft candlelight flickered against virginal daylight clawing its way through the gaps in the blinded windows. The inn was sparsely occupied at this early hour, save for him.

Cecco called out. “Vicenzo!”

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise, I expected you to duck on me. It’s not often that men around here carry through on their word.” He said, leaning over to pat the top of a bar stool. “Shall we hash it out, then? The manner of your employ?”

Cecco nodded and hoisted himself up onto the slightly too-tall stool. I sat next to him. He spoke without hesitation. “So, what’s the issue?”

“Blood suckers, it would seem. One of my factories was stricken by some manner of beast that feeds on sweet anima. We make gambesons and ship them to old Provvidenza.” He said, dragging that same skunky pipe from yesterday. “Say.” He tipped the pipe forward. “Fancy a bit of pre-game before your endeavor?”

I crossed my arms. “Seems up your alley, Cecco, all that whinging about nothing to do.”

Cecco raised a hand towards me, shushing me. “And I presume payment is in order?” He said, using the same hand to push away the pipe. “I prefer to hunt sober, by the way, as does my coterie.”

Vicenzo laughed. “Understood. And as for payment, we can settle it in post, but I can assure it will surpass even your most gracious estimations. I am not a man of shallow purse.” He lowered his free hand. “Are we in agreeance?”

Cecco shrugged, grasping at his hand and shaking it firmly. “Assuming you don’t duck and run once the job is done. Otherwise, I’ll have to hunt you down and extract payment myself.”

Vicenzo laughed once more. “I can assure you; my word is ironbound.” He said, before suddenly diving his hand down into his satchel. “Oh! One more thing,” he withdrew a small rolled up piece of parchment sealed with wax. “This should get you where you need to go, yes?”

Cecco took it in hand and bowed his head. “We’ll be off then. Shall we expect you here on our return?”

Vicenzo nodded. “I’ve nowhere else to be, my establishments tend to themselves mostly.”

The two of us rose from our stools and dropped down to the floor below, me moreso than him. As we left the inn cecco broke the wax seal upon the map and unfurled it, the both of us inquisitively scanning our eyes over it.

“Due north, nestled away in the forest grove.” Cecco said, sighing. “Why bother working out of the damn woods?”

I shrugged. “Must enjoy his privacy.”

“Surely not around strangers at the bar.” He said, chuckling. “Let’s go then, our blades are back at the wagon.”

I nodded and speedwalked alongside him, passing a guard who whistled at us to get our attention

“Hey! Heard you two were chatting it up with Vicenzo, crazy bastards sent half a dozen men to die so far. No doubt you inquisitors could handle it though, right? Professionals.” He said, slamming a fist against his breastplate.

Cecco ignored the heckling, he seemed quite steeled in his resolve to complete this mission. I simply waved and bowed my head, keeping pace. Upon arriving at the wagon cecco reached in back, withdrawing my rapier. He unsheathed it and marveled at it for a second before slamming it back into its scabbard. “Pretty.”

I snatched it from him. “Arcolano gave it to me.”

“Oh that old solicitor from Provvidenza, Brusa’s boy?” He said, withdrawing his own massive spadone and fixing it to a special sheath that attached to his lower back.

“The very same! He’s functioned as a close associate for much of my life, especially after I finished spending the bulk of my childhood as an orderly.”

“Oh, an orderly? Your father truly is a doting parent. Couldn’t stomach seeing you slave away in the Vietzan academies? Let me guess, Saint Cassia, Corbaglia?”

“The very same, how did you guess?”

“History of educating the upper crust.” He said, starting to reverse course, map in hand and eyes scanning. “You must be a hell of a spellsword then, no?”

“I’ve a knack for the magical, my father says, as did the order before releasing me back into his care.”

“Ever put it to use, man to man?”

I shook my head. “Never had a reason to. Provvidenza’s quiet.”

“So you think, every city’s got an inescapable rot. You were lucky to grow up in the arms of privilege.”

“You say that as if you’ve experienced it.”

“Vietze’s got its fair share of brigands.” He said, scoffing. “I did my best to help keep them in check during my time in schooling.”

“Such a vigilante, Cecco.”

“Preparation for my position, we have extrajudicial privilege after all.”

I furrowed my brow at that.

“We can kill who we wish, where we wish.” He said, folding his hands behind his head as he walks. “Not that I indulge as often as I should.” He dropped a hand to the handle of his blade. “She gets thirsty, you know?”

A piercing cry shook the world around us as birds scattered to the winds from the distant forests and the roofs of houses. Cecco’s hand moved to grasp at the handle. “Come on.” He said, breaking into a sprint with me tailing just behind, my right hand at my hip, nursing my blade.

We came upon a flipped wagon with two bodies scattered and bloodied beside it. A guard stood nearby, crossbow in hand as a pallid looking mockery of man stared up at him, staring up from the cavernous gash he had made in one of the fallen. Pale skin clung tightly to sharply defined bones, bloodshot eyes focused on nothing, belying the alertness of his posture as his daggerlike claws sliced through flesh and bone. He hissed, his body shaking as he lowered his frame and loaded his legs with weight.

“Move! Move!” Cecco cried out as the guard let the quarrel lose, narrowly missing the beast as it leapt forward, claws digging into its neck and feet slamming into his pelvis, driving him to the floor. It leapt at me next, soaring through the air with unnatural grace as Cecco worked to unsheathe his blade. He slammed his body into the monster as it moved, sending it spiraling to the ground. A plume of scattered dirt obfuscating its landing as it reorientated itself. I unsheathed my blade and stood beside Cecco, visibly shaking.

“What in the hell is that thing!” I cried out.

Cecco shook his head. “Trouble.” He said, adjusting his posture as tendrils of icy fog crept from the gaps and chinks in his armor, coalescing in a whirling frenzy that clung tight to his frame. The beast leapt forth once more, and he brought his blade down right into its head sending blades of ice scattering ahead and lodging themselves in its frame. The blade’s tip caught its skull, his face slamming into the ground and cracking the earth below which cecco eagerly stomped on. Crystals of ice exploding out from around the impact, leaving only a twitchy, bloodless mess in its wake.

Cecco exhaled sharply, sheathing his blade and dusting himself off. Suddenly, a hand crept up and grasped at his ankle. I responded by carving my blade downward in a flourish of twisting flames that wrapped across the monster’s body heralding an impact. Its head, charred and burnt, was sent barreling several feet to the side as its freshly decapitated remains writhed and cooked in the aftermath. I hacked at it again, several times.

Cecco cackled as he saw me work. “What an eager spirit!” He shouted. “You truly do run hot, Vittorio.”

“He–” I said, struggling to gain my breath amidst feverish panting.

“Was going to hurt me?” He cut in, snickering.