Vittorio Intaglio, Heir-Inquisitor

A series of loud knocks rattled against the side of the wagon, yanking me from my nap and back into the real world.

Cecco’s voice rang out. “Come on out Vittorio, we’ve business here.”

I retorted with a groggy and likely inaudible groan, slowly lumbering my way out of the noticeably emptier wagon. My feet collided roughly with the ground as my upper body gave way a bit to cushion the steep drop down. I hadn’t even noticed Cecco standing right by me with an outstretched hand, one which he promptly offered downwards as I nearly stumbled over.

As I tried to help myself up, I couldn’t help but be taken his panoply, a full suit of beautiful, brass gilded armor with a flowing blue cloak trailing behind him, his fluted bascinet dangling off a hook at his side. My gaze scanned over his soft features for a second before shaking myself out of this… worryingly common occurrence. “Sorry cecco, I hadn’t realized you were there.”

He chuckled. “Clearly.” Withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms.

“So, what’s our business here?” I asked

“A part of that’s wagon’s load was bound for this little village.” He said, his thumb jutting towards the wagon as he spoke.

“I saw, noticed you unloaded it. Why didn’t you wake me up before, I would have helped.”

“Didn’t want to bother you, you looked peaceful in your sleep.”

I blushed at that, smirking as my gaze left his for a second. “Peaceful?

He swatted at me, laughing. “Something like that, now come on.” He said, turning on a heel to move into the heart of the village.

“Okay, okay.” I made pace to follow beside him, my left hand resting at the pommel of my blade. “So what’s the business then, you already unloaded all the stuff I thought?”

“I heard from one of the guards that there’s a nice inn here, thought we’d stop by and spend the night.”

“An inn? I hadn’t planned to bunk overnight.”

“Well, I’m happy you had plans, but unlike you I didn’t sleep for the whole ride here.” He said, jabbing at my waist with his elbow teasingly.

I particularly cold, prolonged breeze swept over the village, forcing me to cross my arms and mimic a chittering sound to Cecco, earning a chuckle from him that send frosty plumes from his mouth into the rushing wind.

“How do you do that, or rather, why?”

“Hmm?” Cecco said, stopping and turning to face me, a brow quirking.

“The whole, well, icy thing, when you breathe. It isn’t that cold, right?”

He laughed.

“What? I’m just curious.”

He held the laugh for a few seconds, greatly amused by my innocent remark. “Sorry– sorry.” He took a further second. “I’m just shocked it took you this long to ask, and the look you had on your face was priceless.” He said, mimicking an exaggerated face of confusion with a furrowed left brow. “You really wear your heart on your sleeves, like you’re a book or something.”

I blushed once more, a bit taken aback by this. “Well, my question.”

“Oh, yea.” He shrugged. “I’m just like that.” He added before continuing his way into the village. “We can continue this at the Inn, I’m hungry.”

I nodded and continued on with him, matching his hastened pace before we finally got to what seemed to be the Inn. A large iron sign dangled ahead of it that said it’s name, “Bat’s Tooth Tavern”.

“Kind of a silly name, isn’t it?” I remarked.

Cecco snorted. “It is certainly a bit silly.” He retorted as he urged me forward, his metal boots clattering with the iron-topped stairs that led to the entryway to the Tavern. An outdoor hearth sat beneath a large metal vent in the wood awning at the head of this place, a few unremarkable people sitting around it. One of them cried out. “It’s the Inquisition!”

Cecco stopped, his icy gaze piercing over to the guy who spoke up. “Yes, what of it?”

The young man clammed up immediately, slinking back into his chair.

“Cecco, what the heck?” I said, pulling the door open and gently nudging him inside. “Why are you scaring random people?”

“What, what? He pointed us out like he was going to wipe one of us out with a crossbow he had stashed under the table.”

“Maybe he’s never seen an inquisitor before?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, who knows? Why do you care?”

“Don’t we have an image to uphold, come on.”

He chuckled, making his way to the counter. “News to me.”

I met his pace and made way to the counter of the tavern, sitting at a stool beside Cecco. A large waisted man appeared ahead of us, a tankard in his hand, a cloth swirling around inside it led by his free hand. He swiftly placed that mug ahead of Cecco, and one ahead of me before asking if we want anything.

Cecco spoke up. “What’s good?”

The bartender whisked away the two mugs and returned them full of something that smelled both hot and sweet. “Campestrian ale. The damn bastards brew it themselves.”

“Oh, like the fairytale heroes?” I asked.

“Don’t mind him, he’s sheltered.” Cecco added before withdrawing the mug and taking a deep swig of it before pulling it back and slamming it against the table, a sharp exhale carrying a plume of fog from his nostrils.

“What’s the matter?” The bartender said. “Hot?”

Cecco nodded.

“Campestrians love adding honey and pepper to their brews, really has a nice kick to it, huh?”

Cecco nodded once more.

“Your turn.” He said. “It’s on me, since you’re new around here.”

I bowed my head to thank him and withdrew the mug with two hands cupped around it, taking a small sip to avoid the nightmare cecco seems to be going through.

“So, tell me, where are you coming in from?” The bartender asked, moving to clean a mug that was left at the counter not too far from us.

“Provvidenza.”

“Ooh, the capital? What brings you this way from that diamond in the rough?”

“Inquisition business, nothing special.” I said.

“Ah, and I suppose you’re both with the Inquisition, yes?”

Cecco nodded before speaking up. “I’m the Herus of the Legio Cacciare, and he’s the Heir.”

“Heir?”

“Yea, like, son of the Lord Inquisitor.”

“Oh, I see, I hadn’t expected such uhh, prestigious guests today.” He remarked, moving on to another mug.

“It’s truly nothing special, I promise.” I said, pressing my hands together and bowing my head a bit.

A sharp scent of something skunky wafted over from the other end of the bar, drawing my gaze to a man with a colorful outfit, a quite nice silken doublet over a fine wool coat. He called out. “So you’re Inquisitors then, not just, but Inquisitors of rank?”

“That is such, why, do you have need of us?” I remarked.

Cecco smiled, seemingly enthralled by the idea of having something to do, considering his complaints not too long ago to my father.

“That’s correct! Please, we can discuss the details here or save it for the morning perhaps?”

Cecco was about to speak up, but I talked over him. “If you’ll be here in the morning we’ll save it for then. I want to enjoy the night, we just came in.”

“I understand, good master, enjoy your night. I shall be here tomorrow if you wish to speak. Say, do you fancy yourself a man of the pipe?” He said, holding out a prolonged, straight pipe which held skunky, smoldering herbs.

I shrugged and took the pipe between my hands, withdrawing it to my mouth to take a quick puff. “Frankly, I’ve never tr-” I coughed, exhaling sharpy as the pungent smoke vacated my lungs. I felt a sort of rush from my heart to my head, narrowing in on my eyes as my body felt wrapped tight. Slowly a feeling of gentle pins and needles began to emanate from about my head, but I felt increasingly calm. I didn’t finish my sentence.

“And you, icy-hair?” He said, withdrawing the pipe from my hand and ushering it forward. Cecco pushed it away with the back of his hand before grasping his beer. “I’ll stick to one vice tonight.” He said before downing another hard swig of the Campestrian ale. “It really gets better the more you drink it, have you tried it?”

“One vice, as you said.” The well-dressed man said, chuckling as he withdrew his pipe for another small drag which he blew over his shoulder to avoid washing us with it. “I’ll be out for a stroll if you need me. The name’s Vicenzo.”

“Cecco.”

“Vittorio.” I said, outstretching a hand, which he eagerly took and shook.

“Enjoy your time, Master Vittorio. I curate the finest sagebrush around.”

“Sagebrush?” I asked

He held up his pipe and shook it a bit. “Local specialty. Enjoy.”

“WIll do!” I said as he left the tavern, turning back to my drink to tend to it.

“I hadn’t taken you for such a mess, Vittorio.”

“A mess?” I said, sipping at my ale.

“Crossing the streams, so-to-speak. Two things at once.

“I simply smoked a bit, what’s the matter with that?”

“You don’t just smoke to pass the time, you goof. You smoke to get high.” Cecco said, laughing.

“I-I hadn’t realize.” I said, shyly placing my beer against the table.

“No, no, don’t worry about that. I was simply teasing you.”

I drew the beer back, taking another sip. “Sorry, I don’t want to come off as uh, messy?”

Cecco’s hand clapped against my back, causing me to stiffen up and squirm a bit. “Don’t worry about it, really, fun’s fun after all. I’m not going to be a stick in the mud over something like this.”

I chuckled. “Thank you Cecco.”

He took a long swig of his beer again, slamming the empty mug on the table and letting out a relieved sigh. “Another round!” He shouted, prompting me to gulp down the rest of the fiery brew before my mug was whisked away and refilled.

We spent the rest of the night trying local alcohols and of course getting irresponsibly drunk and listening to Cecco’s tall tales coaxed through drunken lips. We easily occupied a good three hours of the barkeeps time with our chicanery before retiring our room, a two-person dorm with a single bed. I’m… unsure if this was Cecco’s intent, a drunken mistake, or the barkeep being funny about it.