The Tiber’s embankment was a curious mishmash of new and old, having high-rise buildings paired to the old Roman constructions, filling the empty spaces left after the odd dungeon outbreak devastated sectors of the city.

The Torre’s headquarters were situated on one of the banks—right in front of Castel Sant’Angelo. The two buildings—one all steel and dark see-through surfaces, the other travertine and bronze—faced one another from the opposite shores of the river like old foes at each other’s throats.

I marched up to the sliding doors giving access to the ground floor before stepping in. The lobby was designed to impress and mimic the conflict born of the Stylus—the name given to the Torre’s base due to its streamlined exterior—and Castel Sant’Angelo being one in front of the other, with the floor covered in greyish slabs of marble, which seemed to come from an era long past, and modern-looking faded panels of black glass as walls.

At the floor’s center was the reception desk: a wooden elliptical table behind which sat Bianca Sarti.

“Morning, Ms. Sarti,” I greeted the old and notoriously grouchy woman.

“Keep moving,” she told me without even raising her head from the magazine she was reading. “They are waiting for you on the eighth.”

I made for the elevator placed in the back wondering why I had even bothered with her. Bianca always found a way to be rude. It was better to just let her be. Why Mr. Scacchi and Alessandro allowed her to greet people was a mystery to all the guild employees.

Once inside, I pressed the button with the number eight on it and waited for the metal cabin to bring me to my destination. Barely a minute later, I stood on the eighth and last floor of the Stylus. In an almost identical repeat of what was on the ground floor, the pavement was covered in marble and at its center was a second wooden desk. Contrary to the lower floor, however, this one held the offices of Alessandro and Giacomo, which sat to the right and left of the table, and also the small conference room where the other members of the Torre’s main team waited for me.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, Alfredo Gurdini, who sat comfortably behind the working desk, rose to his feet.

“Good morning, Mr Rossi. This way, please,” he said in his warm and affable voice, inviting me to follow him to the doors behind his station. “The guild masters are already inside.”

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Alfredo waited for me to reach him before knocking on the semi-transparent frames and announce my arrival. After a few seconds, the old man walked in, keeping the doors open to also allow me to walk through.

Inside, three men and two women sat at a rectangular crystal table spanning almost the entire room. On their backdrop, the usually black glass left way to an enormous window, gifting me a panoramic view of part of the city. Giacomo—whom I recognized from the many interviews he had been subjected to on the television—and Alessandro sat at the opposite ends of the table, while the others sat in between. As soon as I entered, Giacomo rose to his feet, walking up to me.

“Giacomo Scacchi,” he said once he stood but a step away, also offering his right hand for a handshake. “A pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Scacchi,” I greeted, taking the hand offered.

Giacomo was almost the exact opposite of Alessandro, being quite short and, albeit not skinny, definitely not as beefed as his colleague. His curly and untamed hair was a deep corvine, and his irises an intense amber, which complemented well his sharp features, pale complexion and the rich black beard covering the lower half of his face.

Giacomo kept smiling my way, flashing me his white, pearly teeth, but I couldn’t shake that uncomfortable feeling of being appraised when he looked at me. It was a relief when he decided we had had enough of a staring contest and guided me to my seat, which unfortunately was right to his left, between him and the youngest member of the team, Simone Correne.

“Marco,” Giacomo said once we were seated. “Let me formally welcome you to my and Alessandro’s team. You probably already know everyone’s names, and they also know yours, but I would like you to introduce yourself and to introduce them to you all the same if it is okay with you.”

“I would like to, Mr. Scacchi.”

“Fantastic. Then why don’t you start?”

What followed were a few minutes of greetings and idle talk. After I made my introduction, Giacomo proceeded to present me to all the members of the team, himself included. Alessandro, I already met, so his introduction didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. The same held true for Giacomo’s—there was just so much data on the web regarding the A-ranked warrior that all he shared I had come across on a fan page. Simone, Giulia, and Cristina, on the other hand, were incognita when compared to the other two. Each of the three was a powerful B-ranker; both Simone and Cristina were mages, while Giulia was a warrior.

I also discovered Giulia and Cristina to be homozygote twins, which was a shocker because I could easily tell one from the other; although the two had the same mellow features, on Cristina they looked sharper, making the two perfectly recognizable by their expression alone. It also helped the sisters wore their hair differently, with Giulia keeping hers short at the shoulders, while Cristina’s cascaded to the small of her back.

“I think that is enough for the day,” Giacomo said after introducing the last of the presents. “Before you go, I would like you to remember that you are not any member of the guild anymore. Along those who are present, you now represent the best the Torre has to offer. Not to brag, but the guild Alessandro and I founded is one of the best in the country. What that means is that, albeit in name only, you are amongst the best Awakened of our nation. People will judge your every move, and if you act poorly, it will reflect badly on the guild. Don’t let money and fame get to your head. Alessandro vouched for you to join our team, and I’m inclined to agree with him. However—and don’t take it as a threat—should you prove unworthy, I won’t hesitate to remove you.”

“I will do my best, Mr. Scacchi.”

“That is all I ask,” Giacomo told me with a smile.