∴ A trusty companion ∴
The cobbles are harsh and unfamiliar beneath your travel-worn feet as you pace the empty square. The spectre of last night’s wine sits heavy in your stomach.
You brush your hand over the pommel of your sword. Its slight yet certain presence heartens you.
You shouldn’t be awake this early. Only six hours ago you were sitting down to a hot meal and a glass of harsh tavern wine to toast your travels. The beginning of what you thought would be a quiet few days in Tuscany. But then some lousy local had to go and slight you…
Your head is pounding. Your hands are sweaty. You are in no state to fight the duel your hot temper demanded. But honour is honour.
You hear footsteps behind you. Swallowing hard, you reach for your faithful sword.