As the gondola glided through the misty dawn, Nico Paolo's thoughts turned to his home in the small village of Collodi, nestled in the rolling hills of Tuscany. He envisioned the medieval towers and fortifications, the rustic stone cottages, and the vineyards that stretched towards the horizon.

Months of extortion, bloodshed, and terrorism had finally yielded the desired result: the wealthy elite, exhausted and terrified, had relinquished their secrets, treasures, and research to him!

Hidden in San Lazzaro, the young man’s coffers were overflowing with gold, ancient artifacts, exotic herbs, and favorably colored jewels! His thirst for knowledge was quenched, as he possessed many of the forbidden tomes, rare manuscripts, and cryptic scrolls he had coveted for so long!

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His heart swelled with excitement, eager to reunite with his aging parents and provide the care and comfort they deserved. (He’d realized rather late that his writing and posting a farewell letter had actually been a fancy hallucination!)

Casual and detached, the gondolier's voice broke the silence of real life, "Sleep's a fragile thing, isn't it? One moment you're dreaming, the next... well, who knows?"

Nico's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his expression neutral. "Indeed."

The gondolier shrugged, his eyes fixed on the water. "Heard Borromini had a troubled sleep in the end. Woke up playing with his sword, they say. Guess his rivalry with your father never truly ended, even after... well, you know."

Nico's voice was equally nonchalant, but with a hint of amusement. "Comparisons can ruin a man's mood forever, can't they, Pontumancer? Leave him feeling... inadequate… even in his dreams."

“Don't forget, Giovanotto: I can drown you faster than you can daymare me.”

“Oh, of course. And I agree, the sterling silver ferro against my skin would be a nice touch.”