Chapter Text
The day Vittorio met the slave his Uncle had purchased was the first time Vittorio ever felt true anger towards Renzo.
“Why would you do this!?” Vittorio quietly raged, his back to the closed door where the Knight - the slave waited in the hall at attention, obedient and his scent a subtle, calm lapping wave.
Renzo sighed, shoulders slumped and a light of pity in his sad, sad eyes. He was just as quiet but sounded as regretful as Vittorio felt wrathful.
“Vittorio- nephew, you know why.”
Vittorio felt his faith in this man wavering, bringing a hand to his chest and clawing the fabric over his heart. He denied the tears in the corner of his eyes and denied the fear crawling up his throat as he breathed, “You promised me autonomy! You swore on it five years ago on that harsh winter night I arrived at your doorstep with a letter from my father in my hands!”
“And I intend to keep my promise, Vittorio.” There was a note of iron in his Uncle’s voice, unbending and warning in the same breath. Vittorio saw it in the hardened look on his face and the thinning of his lips, the tight line of body language and the rising Beta scent that whispered ‘be cautious and mind your tongue’. But then his Uncle took a deep breath in and held it before letting it go along with all the tension. And then he simply looked-… His Uncle looked so unbearably tired. “The contract has already been written up. This is a trial period - for both of you. Should he manage to keep you safe when you leave the keep, I’ll be buying the freedom of his compatriots and writing up a similar contract with them. But most importantly I’ll be naming you as my heir.”
His rage felt worthless in the face of his astonishment and Vittorio staggered back a step, quickly paling.
“You cannot mean that,” he breathed.
“I do,” Renzo solemnly replied. He walked over to one of the windows overlooking the sprawling town of Portoscuro and beckoned Vittorio to his side. Vittorio hesitated but trailed after his Uncle but a moment later. “I am only growing older, Vittorio. My sons are all dead, victims of war. And in her grief, my dear wife passed.”
Vittorio stood beside Renzo but he only watched his Uncle, paying mind to the emotions he could see passing through the older man like wine; aged.
“I have no heirs and I have no wish to remarry after all these years for the simple purpose of creating one.” The man shook his head and looked again at Vittorio. “I want you safe even after I am gone from this world. Please, Vittorio. We are both well aware of the risks your tincture holds and we both know there may come a time when it no longer works as it should. Allow me to make certain the worst case scenario shall never affect your future.”
It was well-meaning, the action. It was a decision made with only Vittorio’s interests in mind but still-
“Why buy a slave, Uncle,” Vittorio quietly stressed. “I know you don’t agree with what the Guardia Compagnia does.”
“And that is precisely why I bought him his freedom, Vittorio,” Renzo patiently explained. “I didn’t buy him as a slave, I gave him his freedom and offered him work. Tarhos is the one who agreed though under the stipulation that I do the same for his three comrades once this trial period is over. Regardless of what happens, he and his men will be free.”
“And what shall keep him from slacking off?” A part of Vittorio wished the man would do exactly that, shove off and leave Vittorio alone. But Renzo paid for the slave’s freedom with intentions to do it thrice more. He wanted his Uncle to be played for a fool even less than he wanted a babysitter.
For a brief moment, his Uncle didn’t respond. He merely looked back out the window and when nothing immediately came, Vittorio turned to peer at what had caught his Uncle’s attention.
There, just beyond the open gate to the keep was a group of three children. They all had to be at least five or six years younger than Vittorio. Personally, he’d put them at the ages of nine or ten years. But they danced around a poor guardsman who casually stood there shaking his head and even from where they stood inside, Vittorio could tell the man was smiling. The children were dirty but they were happy. Vittorio wondered if any of them belonged to the guard.
“The same as any poor man or woman on the street,” Renzo quietly murmured and Vittorio found he couldn’t look away from the homely scene at the gate. “Food, water, a bed, and a place to call home.”
Vittorio watched the guard open a pouch on their belt and for a brief second, there was the hint of glinting metal in his palm. The children lit up and held out their hands, patiently standing in a line, suddenly behaving like angels. Vittorio watched the guard place what looked to be a couple denari in each of their cupped hands . As soon as they were given their spoils, the children bounced about before running off and the guard was left alone to his duties once more.
“I am not going to make it easy for him, Uncle.” Vittorio glanced at his Uncle. “You do realize this, yes?”
Renzo held a small smile and huffed, dimples appearing on either side of it.
“I would be concerned if you didn’t, nephew.” He shook his head again but Vittorio could tell the man was in…perhaps not higher spirits but his pain no longer laid on the surface. Renzo pulled away and walked over to his desk in the center of the room. “At least do introduce yourself before attempting anything, that is all I ask.”
“Of course,” Vittorio answered. He made to leave but before the doors to the hall, he paused. Standing there he could just barely make out the Knight’s scent. What had his Uncle called him again? Korach? “I have one more question.”
He turned to find his Uncle already sat in his chair, a quill in hand and poised to start working at whichever problem called for his attention that day. Renzo patiently waited through, peering up at Vittorio as he calmly strode to stand before the Duke. Yet with his question sitting on his tongue like a tomato picked too soon, Vittorio found he could not meet his Uncle’s eyes when he stopped in front of his desk. But it needed to be asked.
“This…Knight,” he quietly, quietly started. “Does he know?”
Understanding dawned on his Uncle and he spoke with a compassionate sorrow as he replied, “No. It is not my tale to tell.”
Vittorio didn’t say another word. He merely nodded and turned on his heel, striding to and through the doors with his head held high. Gently he closed them behind himself, only turning from them when he heard them latch shut. And slowly did he turn, resigning himself to the reality before him.
The slave-made-Knight was a…tall man. Taller and older than Vittorio. His armor was worn, well used and taken care of, a full set with the Toscano family colors draped around their neck and over their shoulders. Vittorio could spot the chainmail just beneath the cloth. Under the Knight’s left arm was his helmet. His claymore he held between his hands with the tip against the stone floor, its edges wicked and cruel looking. Vittorio eyed it with distaste before finally moving his gaze up.
Dark eyes met his, calm and even and seemingly unbothered by Vittorio’s examination. For a few moments further Vittorio noted the details of the man’s face, the scars he could see, untold stories laid into skin. In the left corner of his lips was a scar, leaving the corner crooked and the slightest glimpse of teeth bare. Under the Knight’s right eye was a wickedly curved scar starting center beneath it before it led past his cheekbone and disappeared only to reappear as a nick in the top curve of the Knight’s right ear. Down his cheek on that same side ran another scar that dipped below his jaw and similarly reappeared as another nick - this time on the right side of the Knight’s neck. Long, inky black hair trailed down the sides and back of his head with only the front and top portions tied back.
“Your name,” Vittorio started, looking the man directly in the eyes. “What is it?”
The Knight didn’t move from his spot beside the door but he turned his head to fully face Vittorio. Yet he didn’t answer. Confused, Vittorio’s brows pulled together and he moved to stand right in front of his new bodyguard.
“I know the Guardia Compagnia teaches their slaves to speak Italian,” he murmured to himself. “Are you perhaps mute?” While he thought highly of his Uncle, Vittorio didn’t see the man employing a mute. How would he call for help and explain a situation in the middle of things? It wasn’t as if he could hastily write anything out in an emergency - though Vittorio doubted the damned guild taught their captured slaves how to read.
His thoughts were interrupted by the Knight’s response.
“My name is Tarhos Kovács, Lord Vittorio Toscano.”
Kovács, not Korach. Vittorio had been quite close.
Vittorio nodded. “Have you met with the Steward? Been given a room? Met with the Marshal?”
Kovács shook his head and solemnly answered, “No, Lord Vittorio Toscano.”
Again Vittorio nodded and he began to walk down the hall. “Then that is where we shall start. Though your armor may serve you well, I do not expect you to wear your full regalia everyday lest you scare the townsfolk.” He heard Kovács follow behind him and the man easily caught up and continued to keep pace as they turned down a hall. “As for my title, Lord Vittorio shall suffice and I grant you permission to call me as such. While some standards are to be held, I don’t care very much for unnecessary customs.”
Head held high and proud, back straight, Vittorio spoke with all the command and poise his station demanded of him. Every word resounded with a self-assured yet muted confidence.
“Any questions so far?” he asked as they crossed through the main landing.
“No, Lord Vittorio,” Kovács answered.
“Good.” Vittorio paused in front of the archives room and turned on his heel to face Kovács again. The man peered back at him, calm and aloof. “Now I’m not sure of the details of your contract with my Uncle but spend today getting settled into the keep and familiarizing yourself with both it and the people. If you have any questions, direct them to the steward. Once you’re done with all that, you can find me in my study in the west wing on the second floor. I’ll leave the door cracked open for you.”
He turned back to the door without waiting for an answer and rapped his knuckles against the wood.
“Enter,” came a voice from inside. Vittorio opened the door and watched the steward glance up before giving him a shallow bow. “Ah, Lord Vittorio Toscano. A pleasant surprise. What can I help you with?”
Vittorio stepped inside and was greeted by the scent of ink and old papyrus, each shelf in the crowded room stacked with books and scrolls sorted with only a vague idea of organization. Yet somehow Benicio always knew where to look for any document.
“Benicio,” Vittorio warmly greeted and stood before the table the steward was seated at. “I suppose you know of the Knight my Uncle hired? I’ve been told he has yet to meet with you so I took the liberty to bring him here. I would prefer he be settled into his new home before truly starting his work. Do you have the time to spare currently?”
“For you? Always.” Benicio stood, gathering the scrolls and papers he had on the table. As he went to start putting them away, he called over his shoulder, “Have him wait outside the door for me. This may take a few moments. Where shall I send him once everything is in order?”
“My study,” Vittorio easily gave. “And Benicio, thank you.”
Even though he could no longer see the steward, he clearly heard his response.
“No thanks are needed, Lord Vittorio. It’s part and parcel of my job and helping you is always a joy. You’ve always been so much like your Uncle!”
Vittorio shook his head and stepped out of the archives room. He didn’t turn to face Kovács but he spoke and watched from the corner of his eyes.
“Do I need to repeat anything for you?” When Kovács silently shook his head ‘no’, Vittorio nodded and walked away, taking his leave. As much as Vittorio loathed the subject, he had a book on advanced mathematics to start going through.
Kovács was an odd fellow by Vittorio’s standards. While he wasn’t overly familiar with any of the knights occasionally sent to Portoscuro for his Uncle’s inspection, he knew of their general character and common dispositions. Some were staunchly loyal and prone to overusing formalities even when given permission otherwise. Some were highly charismatic and spoke with elegance. Some were rowdy and spoke quite plainly when not before his Uncle, sometimes bordering on indecent.
Kovács didn’t follow any sort of expectation Vittorio had. In the days following, he was there outside his door when Vittorio woke up. He dutifully trailed after Vittorio wherever he roamed. He stood guard either just inside or outside the door of any room but always within Vittorio’s sight. He left when Vittorio retired for the evening, a guard replacing him for the night’s duration. And he rarely spoke.
He no longer wore his full armor set and instead adopted metal bracers, a studded leather chest piece, brown hose, and stiff, sturdy boots. And despite the option of a weapon more suited to life in a keep, Kovács still carried his claymore with him wherever they went. It wasn’t something Vittorio agreed with, his thoughts sometimes veering towards the poor fate of one of Sir Fabrizio’s pages. But he couldn’t order the Knight to simply walk unarmed. At least that was what Uncle Renzo decreed.
All in all, Kovács was dreadfully boring.
He would later plead the faults of youth to a bemused Renzo but in truth, he wanted to see something more than apathy from his bodyguard. Furthermore, it had been over a full week since he last saw his friend.
The library was situated in the east wing on the second floor, straight across from Renzo’s study. It faced the portion of the courtyard where the garden sat, an area almost entirely closed off from prying eyes by design. Most important though was the fact it was possible to scale the wall there and slip over it into the outer ward and from there, the town at large. In fact Vittorio had done exactly that multiple times since coming to live with his Uncle. Renzo would expect it, Renzo’s guards wouldn’t even comment on it, but a fresh-faced knight? Kovács didn’t stand a chance
But Vittorio had to time it perfectly.
Kovács may not have been entertaining but he was smart enough to glance over at wherever Vittorio was every so often when the Knight stood outside of a room. And that day in the library Kovács had chosen to stand vigil outside the library doors again, leaving it cracked open so he could periodically peer inside. There wasn’t a precise method Kovács used but Vittorio noticed some kind of pattern.
Kovács would normally just glance in the once and then turn his head back to the hallway but every so often, he would check again mere seconds later. Thankfully, the library was on his side and in the center of the room stood a shelf which faced the door and through which Vittorio could see the door, a glimpse of Kovács’ frame just beyond that.
It was simple work getting up every so often and trading out texts and scrolls until there came the moment Kovács checked twice while Vittorio ‘looked through’ the shelf. With the window already open, Vittorio silently moved and he was through it within moments. The old apple tree’s branches were easily within reach and Vittorio swung himself towards the main part of the tree before beginning to scale it. The downside of this though was the rushing sound the leaves made and Vittorio soon heard heavy footsteps running to the window. He found the top of the inner wall within his grasp just as Kovács poked his head out from the library.
For a lingering second they stared at each other, frozen in place. Kovács watched him with wide eyes, surprise plain to see. And Vittorio grinned back, letting his challenge be silently read.
‘Catch me, if you can.’
It was time to test if Kovács was worth his Uncle’s time and money.
Kovács didn’t curse but all the same, Vittorio heard the Alpha rush from the window the same moment Vittorio leapt back into action - literally. Balanced on top of the inner wall, he took a few precarious steps towards where the tall oak tree in the outer courtyard stood firm beside the wall. He pushed off the inner wall with practiced ease and wrapped his hands around the base of one of the largest branches and quickly swung himself down its length. From the ground he heard a distant commotion over the inner wall and Vittorio smirked.
The inner gate was on the opposite side from Vittorio. No doubt Kovács would attempt to cut him off at the outer gate. It was unfortunate for the Knight that Vittorio knew another out.
The servant’s quarters were directly behind the garden and it was a little known fact that climbing from its roof to the top of the outer wall was an easy task. There were grooves in the brickwork just barely deep enough for someone nimble such as himself to grip and scale the wall. Even less known was how often Vittorio utilized that escape or how he had a cloak stashed behind a loose, out-of-sight brick. A common brown color that could easily hide Vittorio. The alcove was only big enough to hide either the cloak or whichever doublet he wore.
The time it took him to slip out of his doublet, trade it for the cloak, and stuff it inside his linen shirt for the time being, the commotion was rising anew. There was a set of footsteps running for the area of the outer courtyard Vittorio had originally landed in.
That had been sooner than Vittorio expected and he hurried, attempting to climb the wall faster than he ever had before. The footsteps came to a sudden stop when Vittorio was only a couple feet from the top and he scrambled up, kneeling on the walkway for a breath. Down below he glanced at Kovács, staring up at him looking vaguely annoyed.
Vittorio gave the man a quick salute before sprinting across the walkway and leaping for the closest roof, the guard far on either of his sides yelling.
He managed to catch the edge of the roof and from there made his way down, using window ledges as handholds until he solidly landed on the cobblestone road, scaring some of the people. Vittorio didn’t pause and started running ahead, throwing the cloak over his shoulders in the process.
He was already late.
“Steffano!” Vittorio quietly called down the alley, standing just inside the mouth of the dead end. It was a dark, dank area with a door on either wall and lines and lines of drying clothes hung up above on the second floor. There was a barrel, a couple crates but it otherwise appeared empty. Forgotten. Still Vittorio tried again and took a step in further. “Steffano! Psst! It’s me! Vittorio!”
A beat passed without a single change. He took another step.
“Boo!”
Vittorio screeched and whirled around. Behind him stood his friend, giggling gleefully. He shoved at Steffano and whined, “Why must you pull these stunts of your’s!? You know I hate it!”
Steffano stumbled back but soon pranced backwards into the street, smiling widely and continuing to giggle.
“You make it too easy, that’s why!” Vittorio’s friend crooned. “Come on, if I didn’t keep you on your toes, who would?”
Vittorio huffed and crossed his arms, following Steffano onto the cobblestone road with his friend’s dancing scent a comfort. He glared down the way he came from and grumbled, “Considering the new…Knight my Uncle hired, you may have competition.”
“What!?” Vittorio whipped his head towards Steffano at the exclamation and found the young brunette crowding into his space, pouty blue eyes and all. “Please say it isn’t true. You intend to replace me!?” Steffano fell back a step and threw the back of his hand over his eyes. Vittorio’s gaze fell flat and he crossed his arms. “Oh, woe is me! To think my own best friend would betray me so. What has this world come to!”
Steffano dropped to his knees in the middle of the street, garnering a few glances and whispers from passersby.
“Feel free to drop the dramatics at any point in time,” Vittorio drawled. “Preferably before I’m to return for supper.”
“You don’t understand, Vittorio!” Steffano prattled, peering back at Vittorio with teary eyes. The noble didn’t buy it for a second. “My life is over! There’s no recovering from this, I’m too old to fall this low.”
“You’re fifteen, the same as I.”
“Exactly!”
Vittorio sighed but he couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lips, his friend’s antics easily getting to him. “You’re insufferable, you know that, yes?”
“You tell me this every time we meet up and yet you keep coming back.” Steffano returned. “Sounds like a bad habit.”
Walking past his friend, Vittorio rolled his eyes. “Probably but I don’t exactly care. Now come on! We’re running out of time.”
“Says you!” Steffano called back and Vittorio heard his friend getting up before quickly trotting after him. “I happen to know a secret.”
Vittorio glanced at his friend with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. He didn’t trust the triumphant look Steffano had about him. And when his friend grinned and huffed, crossing his arms and taking to walk ahead of Vittorio, his disbelief only grew.
“And what secret is that,” he asked after they crossed another street.
Steffano turned on his heel and started walking backwards. Like this, Vittorio had the perfect view of that shifty smile his friend often sported. Steffano looked one way. Then the other.
“Well?” Vittorio grumbled and crossed his arms. “Are you going to tell me?”
“Ugh, fine! Taking all my fun away.” Steffano cleared his throat before admitting, “We don’t have to spend all day looking. I figured out where Bacca and the kittens disappeared to.”
Vittorio stopped. He froze on the side of the street with wide eyes and a dropped jaw with joy and excitement slowly bringing a wide smile to his lips. He started bouncing, bringing his fists up and just about dancing on his feet. Suddenly he burst forward and met Steffano’s bright grin with his own bright excitement.
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier!” He darted around Steffano and started running. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go! Show me! I want to meet them!”
“Alright alright!” Steffano chortled and Vittorio let him catch up. “But you’re going the wrong way, stupid. Come on, follow me!”
“So this ‘knight’,” Steffano casually started. He didn’t look up from the tiny, sleepy black kitten in his lap. “What’s all that about? You said your Uncle hired him?”
Vittorio looked back down at Bacca, the calico purring away on his legs while her two other kittens wrestled between the two boys.
“He did,” Vittorio quietly answered and gently pet Bacca’s head. Her tail lazily flicked against the side of his legs as she began to knead his thigh. At the mouth of the alley they heard the clack of a cart going by. “He’s decided I need a bodyguard.”
“...What are they like?”
And Vittorio didn’t hesitate to huff.
“Boring,” he grumbled. “He rarely talks and even when he does, it’s the barest amount of words necessary. He’s always so….stoic. As if emotions don’t exist for him. He’s there from dawn to dusk, always keeping me in his sights like a hawk and it’s so boring, Steffano. Dreadfully boring. And then there’s the claymore he carries around everywhere with him. It can’t be humane. You’d agree if you saw the blade yourself.”
“Yikes.”
“‘Yikes’ doesn’t come close, my friend.”
They fell quiet again. The orange and white kitten pulls away from the one calico kitten of the litter, taking to climbing Steffano’s outstretched legs and flopping against the other one already there.
“Is that why you’ve been gone for so long?” Steffano quietly asked. “I thought you got in trouble for something.”
“No trouble.” Bacca gave a soft mewl and cutely nudged Vittorio’s hand with the tip of her nose. He smiled, petting the full length of her back and she melted further into his lap. “Simply an inconvenient tail. A freed slave that used to belong to the Guardia Compagnia.”
“Isn’t that the one you told me is just a bunch of no-good mercenaries?”
“The same.”
“Well how long is this ‘tail’ of your’s sticking around for? Your Uncle can’t be thinking of keepin’ this knight.”
“You’d be wrong.” Vittorio felt something pawing at his foot and he leaned over the barrel he was sitting on, Bacca’s soft complaint coming at the same time as her baby calico’s high mewl. Vittorio huffed but he smiled as he reached down and picked the young creature up. In no time at all, the kitten and the mother were curled together and purring up a storm. “He’s on a trial period as per my Uncle. I looked into it. For a month he’s to accompany me wherever I go and keep me ‘safe’. Once he does, my Uncle will be paying for the freedom of this Knight’s three friends and placing forth a similar offer - a test lasting a month and upon their success, swearing fealty to me.”
“Aren’t they supposed to do that for your Uncle?” Steffano asked. Vittorio glanced across at his friend to see an unexpected…bitterness there. Steffano kept his eyes on the two kittens in his lap but there was no mistaking the sullen air about him.
“What is that supposed to mean, Steffano.” While worded like one, it certainly did not sound like a question coming from Vittorio. His friend frowned and pulled his shoulders in closer, the Beta’s scent even souring now. Vittorio stopped petting the cats. “Answer me.”
“Because he’s the Lord, isn’t he?” Steffano bit out. “He’s the Duke of Portoscuro and you’re his nephew, not his heir. I thought you’d always just be Lord Vittorio Toscano. I thought you’d be-”
Steffano suddenly cut off his words and turned his head and Vittorio needed him to finish that sentence. He didn’t want to think too far what his best friend meant, he didn’t want to assume for fear it was the truth. That he wanted Vittorio to stay stuck. That Vittorio was better off as he was, that he wasn’t capable of more.
“You thought I’d be what, exactly.”
“My friend.” Steffano looked down at the kittens then, hand resting on the black one’s back. He’s quiet, voice nearly choking trying to hold back all the emotion Vittorio can scent raging inside him. “I thought you’d always just be my friend. But you won’t be, will you? You’ve got all that Lordly stuff with knights swearin’ fealty to you and you won’t need me anymore.”
Vittorio…felt bad. Guilty. He looked down at his lap too with shoulders feeling weighed down by stone. He should’ve known better than to think Steffano envied Vittorio’s status. The Beta never cared before and he certainly hadn’t when he figured out who Vittorio really was all that time ago.
“I’ll always need you.”
There was a silence held between them that not even the cacophony of the city outside their little alley could breach. Vittorio didn’t dare look up. He was supposed to be brave and sure but he’s a coward. He really thought the worst of Steffano when in reality…Vittorio was pretty sure his friend was just scared of being left behind.
“You aren’t fibbin’?”
Vittorio shook his head, softly stroking Bacca’s spine.
“Promise?”
It was then he lifted his gaze and met Steffano’s with a clear determination. “Steffano, you saved my life the first time I ventured out into Portoscuro. You helped me run from a pair of thugs before you even knew my name. You care and you’re kind and you try your best no matter what anyone has to say. I’d be a fool to ever give you up.
“I promise it on my family’s name.”
It brings a soft smile to Steffano’s lips.
“I’ll hold you to that, Vittorio.”
Vittorio went to respond but the moment was broken when Bacca suddenly sat up, ears twitching. A second later and Vittorio hissed as her claws dug in before she leapt. A figure stood in the mouth of the alley, their imposing shadow stretching towards Steffano and Vittorio across the packed dirt. Bacca stood between the both of them with her fur fluffed, her tail straight up, and back arched, spitting and hissing at the tall man.
The kittens scrambled off their laps, skittering to hide away behind the barrels and Steffano squinted at the stranger even as he stood up.
“Hey mister,” Steffano called. “There something the matter?”
There wasn’t an answer and as the stranger took a step forward, Vittorio knew there wouldn’t be one. Even without the claymore he could recognize Kovács’ shadowed figure. And as the Knight’s scent wafted down the alley, Vittorio’s mood fell to the ground.
Steffano stepped close to Vittorio, almost standing ahead of the young Lord. There was steel and laurels fighting for the air around them, both protective. Vittorio crossed his arms and eyed the both of them with a sigh before fully turning his attention to Kovács.
“Stand down, both of you,” he commanded. Taking a step past Steffano he could clearly make out the suspicion within Kovács’ face, the Knight shrewdly eyeing Steffano. But he nodded and slowly relaxed even as Steffano walked in front of Vittorio, splayed hands at his side and nose scrunched in disbelief.
“You’ve got to be joking, Vitt.” Steffano aggressively gestured over his shoulder at Kovács without even properly looking. “You know this sack of dicks?”
“Yes, I do,” Vittorio slowly answered and eyed his friend wondering where the animosity had suddenly sprung from. “Steffano, meet the Knight I mentioned, Tarhos Kovács. Kovács, my friend Steffano Delmare.”
Vittorio had a clear view of Steffano’s face twisting as if he had bitten into a terribly sour lemon.
“ That’s your damn tail?!” The incredulity seemed so out of place.
“Yes!” Vittorio threw up his hands and leaned into his friend’s face. “Do you know him or something?! Because I cannot understand for the life of me where this anger is coming from!”
“I-!” And just as quickly as the teenager had begun to speak, he fell silent, clamping his mouth shut and crossing his arms, turning to stare at the wall with crossed arms and a huff. Still Vittorio waited a beat, hoping he would hear an answer. But none came.
Vittorio groaned, head falling back to stare up at the clouds high above. He wanted to yell and shake the truth out of Steffano but that wasn’t how Lords behaved. And he knew his friend. There wasn’t a thing in the world they didn’t tell each other. Or well…there were a few things Steffano was always tight-lipped about but there was no way Vittorio was getting an answer with Kovács standing right there. Not for something that personal.
“Alright.” Vittorio sighed heavily and tried to give Steffano a small smile. “Fine. We don’t have to talk about this for now. Later.”
Steffano didn’t say anything, wouldn’t even look at him. Vittorio’s smile fell away.
“I’ll still see you at the usual spot in a few days, right?”
That at least got him a nod. And Vittorio decided that was likely all he was going to be getting. He nodded back.
“Good. I’ll see you then, Steffano.”
He walked past Steffano without looking back, moving to stand before Kovács, peering up at the Knight and seeing an inscrutable expression he had no hopes of understanding. The man impassively stared back and even his scent gave no hint, no glimpse of the sort of thoughts going on inside that head.
Not a word was said as Vittorio finally stepped past his guard. And not a single one was given when Kovács began to follow behind him back to the keep.