Wining and Whining

Palmira didn't have enough time to regret her choice to chase after the others, as nearly as soon as she'd started running she slammed straight into Tintinnia, who'd come to a sudden halt right at the end of the alleyway. The impact knocked them over, and the two girls fell to the ground with dual cries of pain

Palmira winced, blinking dust out of her eyes from where she fell. "Sorry," she rasped.

"It's fine!" Tintinnia elbowed her cheerfully. "Wow, you're heavy!"

Gee, thanks.

Palmira shoved her hands beneath her, trying to push herself up, only to pause as she noticed something rising from between the cracks in the street.

She blinked, and a wall of molten bronze suddenly exploded into existence, only a few inches from her nose. Nearly five feet tall and twice as wide, orange bubbles popped and fizzled as the molten metal swirled in midair, blocking the mouth of the alleyway.

Palmira yelped, scrambling off the much smaller girl, trying to get as far as possible from whatever that thing was.

Sinbad stepped past her, squinting at it with his good eye. He picked up a loose stone from the ground, before chucking it at the bubbling wall.

Strands of molten steel launched out and at the pebble, snatching it out of the air and reeling it back in. It sunk into the molten bronze with a quiet 'plop.'

"Muro del'Inferno," he scowled, glaring at the wall of molten steel like it had personally offended him. "Of course, it would get in our way."

"What?"

"It's the Ambrosi's second line of defense in case of a siege," Anima clarified for her. "It's said to sense ill intent towards the Ambrosi, and once activated it blocks people from advancing on pain of death. I've never seen it activated though. Well, until now, I suppose."

Palmira, having by this point put a good few feet between her and the barrier, now found herself morbidly curious, wondering what was going on behind it. Pressing herself against the wall of the alleyway, she squinted, barely able to see through the sliver between it and the nearest building.

The Piazza del Drago had changed drastically in the few days since she'd last seen it. Shattered storefronts and ruptured stone replaced the once pristine piazza. The merchants and citizens who'd once populated the piazza were now gone, replaced by patrolling soldiers and mercenaries. The Piazza del Drago that she had come to know had been a living, breathing gathering place for people of all stripes.

Now it was little more than a ruined battlefield.

Even the Villa dei Ambrosi were different, the ancient black scales that made up the walls of the villa complex now jutted sharply out into the piazza. Patrolling the tops of them were dozens of mages in red and gold, glaring at them from across the no man's land.

And as always, above it all, the skull of Vesuvius loomed.

Palmira forced herself not to look at it—forced herself not to wonder if the dragon was watching her, even in death.

(Never Again)

She shuddered.

"I assume this is what stopped you the first time?" Anima hummed, leaning in close. A tendril of molten bronze shot out which she absently dodged. "I can see why—I think I would have died if that had hit me."

"…No," Sinbad grumbled sourly. "This thing didn't activate until yesterday. We didn't even make it to the main walls."

"Wait, you got pushed back? You!?"

"Unfortunately, the Ambrosi have been around for a long time. They have enough failsafes in place to stop even me from getting into the heart of their operations."

"How very humble of you," Anima rolled her eyes. "But that doesn't answer what they did."

"They retreated behind their walls and began solely hitting us from above," his scowl deepened with every word he spoke. "Then they brought him out and flooded the piazza, forcing us all back. At that point, the mercenaries we'd brought abandoned us, foolishly declaring that this battle wasn't worth it. After that, the Gennarelli called the battle off, and I was forced to retreat with the rest of them."

"Damn," she clicked her tongue. "Well, that's what you get for using mercenaries. But I suppose now is when you tell us your plan for getting around this defense, then?"

"…"

"…You do have a plan, right?"

"…It is a work in progress."

"You know, you're a lot less competent than the stories make you out to be."

"Be silent, heathen! The Ambrosi aren't a Famiglia you can just use force to break!"

"You think I don't know that!?"

While the adults argued, Palmira sidled up to Tintinnia, who was now standing off to the side, brushing the dirt off her knees.

"What are we gonna do now?" she asked, rolling Morte's staff in her hand. "Do you have any ideas?"

"I wonder if we could go over it," Tintinnia tapped her chin thoughtfully. With a flick of her fingers, something crawled out of the back of her shirt. It was a mess of wings and feet attached to a rat-like body, which took off into the air without grace, its wings making a 'squap, squap, squap' sound with every flap.

Palmira was shocked by how little it shocked her. She almost wished she had it in her to be horrified.

The abomination against nature flew straight over the barrier of molten bronze, and yet the magical nature the Muro del'Inferno didn't bother stopping it.

That's because a red lightning bolt erupted from somewhere behind it, blasting the abomination to dust in the time it took her to blink.

The charred remains of the abomination against nature fell into the barrier, where it was consumed by the bubbling metal with a hiss.

"…Maybe we can go under it," Tintinnia hummed, not looking bothered in the least by the death of her Thing.

The adults stopped arguing long enough for Anima to side-eye the legendary hero next to them. "And you think Palmira could have got you through that?"

"Enough," Sinbad ground through his teeth, dragging Tintinnia away from the barrier. "The barrier is obviously impassable at the moment. That just means we need to figure out another way around it."

"No shit!" Morte snapped at the Paladin, his patience finally wearing thin. "We all figured that out within the first five seconds! But unless one of you has an idea on how to get around this mess, then we're just wasting time arguing over nothing!"

The alleyway went quiet after his outburst, Sinbad seething quietly and Tintinnia rocking back and forth on her heels. It seemed that nobody had any better ideas than what they'd already come up with.

Until Anima suddenly sucked in a breath, looking just a little uncomfortable. "I… might have a way in. But its… unreliable."

"Oh?"

--

"It should be around here," Anima tapped her chin as she turned down yet another street. "…Wait, did I take a wrong turn down the Anselmi…? No, no, I'm sure it was this way…"

Palmira gave her a look, wondering if the woman was still hung over. Surely she hadn't gotten lost in the five minutes since they'd started walking.

Currently they were less than three blocks away from the Piazza del Drago, down one of the wealthier streets in the Old Quarter. Despite that, the four of them were the only ones out and about. It made it almost eerie, how empty it was. While she rarely visited this part of the city, she'd never seen the city quite so quiet before.

She heard something creaking above her, and glancing up she saw a young boy peaking out from the window of one of the penthouses. They locked eyes for only a moment, before a maid suddenly yanked him back inside, stress and worry plain as day on her face.

This must have been worse than she'd thought, if even the wealthy feared leaving their homes.

"Please tell me you aren't wasting our time," Sinbad scowled. His shoulders were tense, and he looked one step away from dropping them and storming the Villa on his own. "If I lose this opportunity because of you…"

"Oh come off it," Anima waved him off. "I see it now, right over here!"

She stopped in front of a large building, great marble pillars protruding from the facade. Carved into the walls of the building were elegant statues, most naked and depicting various acts of debauchery. Ambrosia Dorata was carved into the balcony overlooking the door, decorated with golden inlays and iron roses.

Morte started cackling, and Sinbad almost seemed to slump, turning to glare at her with dead eyes.

"Please tell me you didn't bring us to a brothel."

"He'll be in here, hopefully," Anima gave him a cheeky grin, walking past a set of bouncers in full plate. "And if he's not, then at least we can get a drink on our way out!"

Sinbad stared after her with a look that wavered between disappointment and resignation, before with a sigh he followed her in.

Palmira just shrugged and followed, dragging Tintinnia along when she stopped to stare at one of the carvings. The bouncer gave her a nod, which she returned instinctively—hey wait was that Antonio? Wow, small world—and she pushed her way into the building.

And she froze, at once shocked by the sheer wealth on display inside.

It was without question the fanciest place she'd ever stepped foot in—or, at least, it was the gaudiest. It was so overdecorated it made the Rodina Guildhall look like a pauper's hovel. Every square inch of the building seemed decorated with gold and the ceiling was ninety percent chandelier by volume. Booths of gold and black silk lined the walls, each immaculately prepared and attended to by its own personal waiter, who'd replace the bottles of wine without bothering to list the price and who'd bring out 'light snacks' ranging from decadent deserts to a whole roast duck. Scantily clad men and women strutted between tables, in states of dress ranging from silk undergarments to… chainmail…?

That had to be the least effective suit of armor she'd ever seen in her life.

Sinbad cuffed the back of her head when he noticed her staring, before grabbing both her and Tintinnia's arms and dragging them past, over to where Anima was chatting up a bouncer near the back. The bouncer gave her a slow nod before moving out of the way.

The woman gave them a grin and a wave, Sinbad glared some more, and the group of them were dragged further into the depths of the brothel.

Up two flights of stairs and past door after door of very loud noises, they arrived at a massive door carved of pure marble, guarded by a single bored-looking guard.

The guard stood at attention as they walked up to him, but a single glare from Sinbad had him stepping aside with a 'please don't kill me' look on his face.

Sinbad rolled his single eye, before shoving the grand marble doors open and revealing the private room within.

And what a room it was.

If the first floor was a decadent display of wealth and lust, then this was just obscene.

The room took up almost the whole third floor, which connected to the balcony overlooking the street. The decorations were somehow even gaudier than what was downstairs. Gold curtains, gold walls, gold couches, the room was so gilded that she had to squint past the glare from the windows. Clinging to the walls of the room were indoor gardens, arranged in such a way that looked obscene despite being just plants.

And in the center of it all, draped over the largest couch in a drunken stupor, was the most pathetic looking man she'd ever seen.

And she had seen a lot of pathetic men.

"Oh Romilda," he moaned, rolling around on the couch. Nearly a dozen bottles of wine surrounded him, most only half-empty and knocked to the floor. His face was a mess of tears and bile, and with every word that came from his mouth he coughed and cried in anguish. "Oh Romilda! Where are you, Romilda? Ignore your father, your mother, and refuse your name! Or if nothing else, at least give me your love, and I'll no longer be an Ambrosi!"

"This is pretty sad."

She shushed Morte. The scene before them already made her uncomfortable, reminding her of the broken men and women she'd seen in the seedy bars in her part of the city. She didn't need his color commentary to remind her of that.

"It's our name that's our enemy!" He was practically screaming at this point, flailing back and forth. "You are Romilda, not a Capparelli! What even is a Capparelli? It's not your hands nor feet, not even… not even your face! Oh, take on some other name! Like… like the name of a rose, of this man! Would that not be so sweet? If I were not me, and you not you, that our families were not us… would that not be so sweet?"

Palmira grimaced, forcing herself to look away from the broken man.

Unfortunately, no matter where she looked, she saw nothing but the obscene decadence of the building she was in, and she was reminded of the fact that this man was probably rich enough to buy the Rosa Villa. And that pissed her off.

She stomped forward, smoke pouring out of her mouth as a surge of anger replaced the pity she felt, and in an act of petty spite she shoved him off the couch with a roar.

This gilded ass thinks he has problems!?

The act didn't really accomplish anything, but it felt good, damnit.

"Who!?" the young man yelped as he hit the floor. "Who did that? How did you get in here!?"

Sinbad stared long and hard at the wallowing drunk, before giving Anima a look. "…This is who you brought us here to meet? Him?"

"Unfortunately," Anima sighed, slumping. "Behold, Signor Juliano, grandson of Ottone Ambrosi, and potential heir to the Ambrosi dynasty… drunk off his ass in the backroom of a bar."

The now named Juliano drunkenly stumbled to his feet with a sneer. "You dare! Whoever you are, when my father—oh shit its Cisse."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Like a switch had been flipped Juliano jumped up from the floor, a look of fear on his face that lasted until he tripped on his own feet getting up, falling over and slamming face first back onto the ground.

"…You are positive this is the right man?"

"We're not here because he's competent," Anima groaned. "We're here because he's one of the only people I know who can get into the Ambrosi Villa uncontested."

"Really?" Sinbad glanced between the two of them suspiciously. "How do you two even know each other?"

"We don't!" Juliano finally managed to stumble back to his feet, waving his hands about wildly. "I've never seen this woman before in my life!"

"He owes me a castle's worth in gambling debt," Anima rolled her eyes. "And he has yet to pay a coin of it back."

"I'll pay you back, I swear! My uncle recently died—I'm sure the inheritance money will be more than enough to cover—"

"Shut up for a minute," she shoved him back as he got just a bit too close. "We are't here for that. Not yet, at least. We're here because I know you've got a way into the Ambrosi's Villa that not even their normal members know about. And don't try to hide that you do—you always brag about it whenever you get too deep into your cups."

He winced, stumbling back. "Wait… you want me to betray my family? My own flesh and blood!? In what might be their darkest hour!?"

"Weren't you just complaining about how they won't let you see your… Randy, was it?"

"Romilda! My dear, sweet—"

"Yeah, her. Your grandfather's against the two of you seeing each other, right? So wouldn't it be nice if, I don't know, he was just a bit too busy dealing with all this war nonsense to stop you from sneaking off to see her?"

"That was—I mean—!" he stumbled over his words. "I can't! The peasants are one thing, but Grandfather is…"

"How about this," she clapped her hands together, a fake smile on her face. "If you help us, I'll forgive all of your debt."

Juliano paused, looking tempted.

"…No," it looked like it physically pained him to deny her, but he shook his head. "I cannot. Grandfather is—I mean, even if I'm not on the best of terms with them right now, I cannot just…"

"Oh come off it!" Sinbad suddenly snapped, barging forward. He knocked both Anima and the guard that tried to stop him aside, grabbing and lifting up the now terrified looking Juliano into the air by his dumb-looking ruffles. "We have given you ample opportunity to cooperate, and yet you continue to waste our time! This is your last chance, boy. Tell us how to get into the villa, or else."

"I… I—I…!" Juliano stammered, flailing in the Paladin's grip. "My grandfather will…!"

"Come now, Signor," Anima soothed, stepping around Sinbad. "Just tell us and we'll let you down. Your grandfather won't need to know, we promise we won't tell him."

The boy seemed to slump slightly, before he suddenly straightened, as though he'd suddenly gained a second wind. With a glint in his eye, he declared, "Very well—however, I require one thing before I tell you!"

"Yes, I'll forgive your debts," Anima rolled her eyes. "Not that I expected you to ever pay those back anyways."

"Not that, foolish heathen!" he snapped at her, still dangling in Sinbad's iron grip. "I have transcended beyond such material wants! No, I require you to bring me to my Romilda!"

"…Who is that, again?"

"My one true love!" he threw his arms out wide. "The most beautiful woman in the world! My Romilda!"

Anima closed her eyes, sighing. "…Fine. Where is she?"

"The Capparelli Villa!"

Anima raised her hands to her face. "…You don't mean the Capparelli Villa, do you? As in the villa at the heart of the Duke's Quarter? The home of the Capparelli Famiglia? That Capparelli Villa?"

"Yes!" Juliano nodded emphatically. "My one true love! Ah, Romilda, if only your accursed father wasn't in our way! If only I were not Ambrosi, and you were not Capparelli, then we could love without restraint!"

Anima screamed quietly into her hands.

"…Can I hit him?" Palmira asked, hefting the crime against nature that was her mace over her shoulder. Tintinnia perked up from where she was standing off to the side, bored. She gave her a thumbs-up. "Just a little? Just enough to knock come sense into the spoiled brat."

"Don't tempt me," Sinbad sighed tiredly, before chucking Juliano back onto the couch. The boy coughed, rubbing his neck with half-crazed eyes.

"So you'll do it!?"

"Fu—fine," Sinbad rolled his good eye, looking like he'd rather be doing anything but this. "We'll take you to see your girlfriend."

"I want an oath! And oath you will bring the two of us together!"

"Fine," Sinbad ground his teeth. "I swear by the Goddess that I'll do what I can to bring you to your lover. Now, how do we get into the villa?"

"It's with this!" He grinned manically at them, and with trembling hands he plucked one of his rings from his fingers. Holding it up to them, it looked like the toe of a dragon, curled in on itself. "Only the core members of the Ambrosi are given one of these. When you wear it the city will recognize you as Ambrosi, allowing you access to the villa even when it's under siege."

Sinbad leaned down, snatching it from the young man in an instant. Holding it up to his good eye, he frowned. "…You are not lying to me, are you?"

"Lying?" Juliano blinked. "What do you mean? Why would I lie to the man who would bring me my beloved Romilda?"

"Can I hit him?" Tintinnia asked cheerfully, before looking at Palmira for approval. She gave her a thumbs-up back.

"Not yet," Anima shoved her away from the lovesick idiot, before stepping up to look at the ring in Sinbad's hands. "What about the rest of us? Does the ring work for multiple people?"

"Ah, no," Juliano shook his head. "It only works for the person wearing it. It is a ring, after all."

"Then what about us!?"

Juliano shrugged. "You'll have to find another way in—I only have the one ring."

"No, this is fine," Sinbad placed the ring on his finger, before muttering a quiet prayer. "Just the one is enough for me."

"It's not enough for me, though," Anima scowled at him. "Why the hell did I even come if you're just going to dismiss us like this?"

"You didn't even want to come in the first place," he waved her off. "You and the girl can go back to your guild and do whatever it was you were doing before this. I, on the other hand, will finally be able to settle an old score."

"Wait!" Tintinnia jumped in front of the Paladin as he turned to leave. He scowled down at her, but she just scowled back, jagged teeth glinting in the low light. "What about me? You promised I'd get his heart!"

What.

'Query. Is she speaking metaphorically?'

"Considering the age gap, I'm not sure if that would be better or worse."

"So I did," Sinbad waved her aside. "And I'll keep that promise. But I never said anything about you having to be there when that happened."

"Wait, what about Romilda!?" Juliano leaped forward, grasping onto the edges of Sinbad's armor. The Paladin just kicked him off with a scowl. "What about my love!?"

"You'll get your girl," Sinbad shoved him away as the young man tried to latch onto him again. "After I've dealt with Da—the Ambrosi."

"That's not good enough! I—!"

"I will take him to his girl," Anima stepped forward, now just looking tired. "The boy won't shut up until then anyway. And maybe, on the way there, I can teach him a lesson about making bets he can't afford to repay."

Juliano suddenly looked much less sure of himself.

"Fine," Sinbad just rolled his eyes, stomping out of the brothel. "Now, if there's nothing else, I will be on my way."

"Wait!" Tintinnia shouted, chasing after him. "You promised! Get back here you bastard!"

Sinbad didn't stop. He didn't even bother looking back at her.

Palmira followed after them, unsure what they were talking about but wanting to make sure Tintinnia didn't hurt herself trying to stop him. Also because she was going to burn this damn place down if she stayed in it a moment longer, and she'd been real good about not doing those types of things lately.

Once they'd gotten out the front door Tintinnia leaped at Sinbad, trying to tackle him to the ground only for him to easily step out of the way. She spun around with a snarl, the thick leather of her gloves flexing as she reached out to try and grab him. Sinbad just continued walking.

Antonio the bouncer looked like he was about to intervene, but she grabbed his shoulder and shook her head.

"It's out of the building, it's not your problem," she told him. His fellow bouncer nodded frantically.

Then she rushed after them down the road to the piazza.

"Stop, damn you!" the pink girl snarled, jumping in front of him. "Why aren't you stopping? Why don't you ever stop!?"

That, of all things, actually gave the Paladin pause. He turned to look at her, and his stoic face softened just a bit. "Because I have my duty," he told her at last. "And it is a duty only I can fulfill."

Tintinnia stomped her foot, a murderous look on her face. "That's so fucking stupid!"

"To you, it may seem that way," he continued past her, to the entrance to the piazza. "But to me, it is all I have."

Palmira ran up next to her friend, grabbing her shoulder gently when it looked like she was about to jump after her again.

"Why are you stopping me!?" Tintinnia snapped, a near feral growl escaping her.

Palmira flinched, but tightened her grip. "If you go any further the barrier will activate!" she reminded her. "I know you're angry, but don't kill yourself over this!"

Her scowl deepened, but Tintinnia stopped, allowing her to hold her back.

"I have waited five years for this day," Sinbad whispered, almost too quiet to hear. "I won't let this chance slip by. Not again."

Sinbad took a step forward, and the barrier of molten bronze exploded into existence in front of him. He paused, before taking a deep breath and continued forward, the barrier moving out of the way to let him through, before sealing itself behind him.

Tintinnia let out a wail of frustrated rage.

Palmira hesitantly leaned over to rub her back. "I, uh, don't know what exactly is going on, but are you okay? Wait, dumb question. Uh, is there anything I can do to help?"

"He promised," she sobbed, and Palmira winced as she realized the other girl had tears in her eyes. "He always does this! He promises, and then he makes some stupid fucking excuse to break it. Fuck him! Fuck him to the deepest pits of hell!"

…Palmira didn't know what to do. She was in no way equipped to handle this, and it was causing her to begin freaking out in a very different way from how she normally freaked out around her.

"Psst!" Morte whispered to only her. "Offer her some food! You fleshbags always feel better after filling your stomach."

With what food, she thought but didn't say. "Uh, hey," she offered hesitantly, wincing at the thought of spending coin today. "You remember that pasta place we ate at before? Why don't we go get something there again. My—ugh—my treat. You'll feel better with some food in you, I think…?"

Tintinnia sniffed angrily, wiping her face. "…Fine," she mumbled through her hands. "…and I'll pay for my own food."

"No, I insist," her instinctive politeness responded before her brain did. Damnit, now she was committed. "I'll pay, you just work on getting this out of your system."

"…Okay," Tintinnia took a deep breath. "Then, let's—wait, do you smell that?"

Palmira blinked, sniffing the air. Huh, now that she mentioned it, something did smell off.

It was the smell of salt and sand. The smell of the sea.

The smell of… home?

"What?" she asked aloud, questioning where that thought had come from. "What's going on?"

"…He's here…!" Tintinnia's face suddenly lit up in a huge smile, before it just as suddenly fell, and she turned to look at the place Sinbad had just left with horror. "He's not here."

"Oh?" a voice rasped behind her, like waves crashing against the stony shore. "What are two young girls like you doing out here? Don't you know it's dangerous right now?"

Palmira started, spinning around to see who had snuck up on them.

It was a Drowned-Man, one of the fallen fey. Greenish-blue scales glinted in the morning sun, and red slitted eyes peeked at them from behind clear eyelids.

"My apologies," he smiled at them, showing off rows of sharp teeth. "I'm aware my appearance is frightening to some. But don't be alarmed, I mean you know harm. I was actually here for someone else. You wouldn't have happened to see a young man by the name of Juliano, have you? His grandfather has been rather worried since he ran off, and sent me to collect him, you see."

Palmira wet her lips, noticing with growing fear the increasingly conflicted look on Tintinnia's face. She quickly weighed her options, and decided that she didn't care about the spoiled brat in the slightest. "He went that way," she pointed down the road, hoping Anima would have the good sense to just leave him to his fate. "You just missed him."

"Ah, damn," the Drowned-Man sighed, shaking his head with a chuckle. "That's just my luck. Well, I suppose I should chase after him before he gets too far."

He started walking past them, and she had to physically grab Tintinnia's shoulder to stop her from moving. She gave her a glance, begging her with her eyes to understand not fucking now.

Then the Drowned-Man paused, shoulder to shoulder with her. "Ah, I almost forgot," he turned to look at her, red eyes boring into her. She met his eyes, swallowing the smoke threatening to leave her lips.

He grinned, raising his arm, and pointed at her staff. His sharp claws glinted in the sunlight, uncomfortably close to her face. "You have something that belongs to me."

And the Drowned-Man attacked.