a while back i wrote quite a lot for a modern crime ring au i made so i figure ill post it, i'd love to get an opinion *3*
Alias ‘the Count’, Lucanor was part of a crime ring called the four kings, but betrayed his 3 partners, killing them in a burning warehouse. Taking over the city's crime scene as an organization called Tenebre. Most previous grunts continued working under the count, but some were loyal to the other kings and were resentful, leaving the organization. The count makes sure to destroy any ex grunts of the four kings' court that are no longer loyal to him.
Alias ‘the servants’ are the grunts working under the count's command.
Alias ‘the Princess’, Lucrezia is the Count's daughter and only child. She grew to resent her father, but was unable to get away from him. With the help of Patronio, she managed to get enrolled into the local university, part of the larger plot to distance her from Tenebre. She is also studying anthropology because it is something she has been passionate about since childhood.
Alias ‘the Jester’ or ‘the Kobold’, Patronio was the son of one of the betrayed crime bosses. Instead of killing him along with his mother the Count decided to take him and make him into a loyal follower. He was only 8 at the time. He never planned on staying loyal to the Count, planning to instead escape, until he met the then 2 yrs old Lucrezia, the Count's daughter. It was then he decided to stay so he could protect her and help to get her away from her father and his organization someday. His positions in Tenebre are the Counts advisor, a strategist, a diplomat, and a servant recruiter.
Alias ‘the Camerlengo’ or ‘the Chamberlain’, he doesn’t actually have any other name, not one that anybody; even the Count, knows. So he goes by ‘Cam’ from Patronio and Lucrezia. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he is excellent at keeping the servants in check. The Count sends him when he needs anybody to ‘disappear quietly’. He is terrifying, and enjoys working for the Count, but also cares about Patronio and Lucrezia.
Hans Frei is a 15 yrs old boy who lives with his mother. His father had died when he was a baby, so it has just been him and his mother for as long as he can remember. Because his mother stayed single, Hans always worried about how she worked herself ragged just to keep a roof over their heads, so he decided to look for a job. Having no luck, he decided to resort to asking for a servant position in the Tenebre organization hearing that the grunts make good money if they please the count.
Guilia is a young woman studying in the local university to become a journalist. Because she was a bit of a rebel child, she spent a lot of time on the streets painting graffiti and snooping through abandoned buildings. This has caused some close calls between her and servants doing dirty work for the count. She still has a passion for urban exploring, though. She met Hans years ago when she saw him getting bullied on the street. After scaring the bullies off they became close friends and she ended up as his surrogate big sister.
(Giulia meets Lucrezia and Patronio)
Giulia heard rumors about an abandoned factory that had been left sitting unnoticed for decades. As a passionate urban explorer, naturally she had to check it out for herself.
It was even more impressive than she had hoped! It was like a scene from a post apocalyptic movie where everyone had to just up and leave in a big hurry. But, of course, considering the place's age and the neglect, it was in a pretty heavy state of decay. That didn’t bother her though. She found it more beautiful with the creeping invasive vegetation and the way old desks and things would warp from the water damage.
As she was exploring the office area near the entrance to the building, she heard some light footsteps, spooking her into a hiding position behind a door.
With bated breath she waited as she heard the footsteps get closer, then stop. Worried she may have been noticed, she chanced taking a peek through the crack between the door and its frame. To her shock, the person she saw out there was someone she recognized. A lady she had seen in passing at the university, someone she figured was also a student around her age.
Also someone she found quite attractive.
She watched worriedly as she heard more footsteps fast approaching the ladies location. Then froze with rage as she watched a man run right up to the unsuspecting lady and grabbed her by the arm.
Giulia seemed to lose control of herself then. Before she knew what she was doing, she ran out of her hiding place and slammed into the man that was attacking the lady. As soon as the man turned to her in shock, she socked him in the nose, sending him sprawling to the ground with a grunt.
Still unsure what she had just done, she turned to the lady to ask if she was alright. The lady was staring at her wide eyed with open shock. She even seemed a bit flushed. It only then dawned on her that she may have misread the situation and over-reacted.
“I-i oh god. Do you guys know each other? I completely misunderstood your situation… didn’t i?” Giulia muttered in an embarrassed flush.
“W-well, yes. I’m afraid you did, miss…?”
“G-Giulia! The names Giulia and oh man. I, i’m so sorry!”
“There's no need to apologize, Giulia. It was a simple misunderstanding.”
“Hey! Easy for you to say when your nose didn’t get busted!”
Retrieving some tissues from her purse, the lady threw them down to the man and the ground.
“Stop whining Pat. you’ve had worse.”
The man, Pat, caught the tissues and held them to his bleeding nose.
“Still hurts though.” he grumbled.
Ignoring him, the lady turned back to Giulia.
“Seriously, don’t worry about him. He’s fine.” she reassured upon seeing how worried Giulia looked.
“O-okay, whatever you say. Uh, so are you guys like, also urban explorers?”
“Oh, uh well we like to explore the odd abandoned building here and there.”
The man and lady shared a look between them. Giulia didn’t notice.
(Hans tries to join Tenebre)
Hans was frustrated. He had been scouring the city for months on end for a job, but nobody would take him.
For as long as he could remember, it has just been him and his mom. His father had died while he was still a baby. His mother refused to talk much about it, but he has a suspicion it was gang related. It's no secret that gang related violence had been particularly rampant 15 years ago, and even more before that, but at least things had seemed to calm down since then, so Hans never really worried about it.
Hans worries about his mother running herself into the ground just to keep a roof over their heads. She works two part time jobs as a grocery clerk, and a full time job at a daycare. Needless to say Hans feels a responsibility to help out as much as he can, and since he is now 15 he thought it should be no problem. But here he is, still jobless.
Getting up from the bench in the park, Hans was about to head over to the library to see if Giulia was there volunteering again, until he overheard some conversation that caught his attention.
As discreetly as possible he peered back to see two men conversing hushedly at a picnic table a few feet away. By their raggedy appearances Hans assumes that they’re homeless.
“Yes man, it’s true. I hear if you please the big boss of this organization you could be set for life!”
“I don’t know man, it’s probably just an exaggeration.”
“Well hey, even if it’s a bit exaggerated, it’s better than scrounging around for scraps. There are just no jobs available these days. Nadda. And these gangs are always looking for new grunts. So whatta we have to lose, eh?”
“Hm, I guess you have a point there. But these guys are very hush hush, how would we even get in?”
“That's the thing, I heard a little something from a friend of a friend. They say you go to the old post office-turned-pub down on 4th street corner? Just knock on the back door and when someone answers tell them you’re there to see ‘the jester’.”
“The… what? The jester? Are you kidding me. That's gotta be a load a shit man.”
“Nah man, I know it sounds weird but this gang has certain codenames. I hear grunts are called servants, and that the big boss goes by the count.”
“Hah! Man, bunch a weirdos if you ask me…”
Hans tuned out the rest of their conversation.
What they had talked about confirmed his suspicion, nobody was hiring these days. So it looked like finding honest work anytime soon was out of the window.
‘The post office turned-pub, I think I know exactly where that is…’
It was a long walk, but Hans didn’t mind. He was used to it, not being able to afford cabs or other public transit.
Nearing his destination, he started feeling unnerved by how quiet it seemed in this area of the city. Even all the vehicles sounded distant to him. It almost made him feel like he was in a ghost town.
Taking a deep breath and stealing his nerves, he continued on towards the back of the pub.
Approaching the only door he could see back there, he gave it three solid knocks and waited with bated breath.
After about a minute, but what felt like forever to Hans, the door opened, and a person dressed head-to-toe in black peeked out. Hans had to stop himself from bolting upon seeing that the person at the door was wearing a very creepy bone-white mask.
“Uh-uhm i’m here to see the jester.” he stuttered out, mentally kicking himself for letting his voice give away his fear.
“He’s not here right now.”
Hans blinked dumbly. He was not expecting that.
Well, he figured it was worth a try. But before he could turn to leave the masked person spoke again.
“He can be found at the abandoned paper mill, on the docks. Just down that way.” and then Hans was pointed down towards where he could see some water in the distance. About another 5 or 10 minute walk, he reasoned.
“Oh, alright. Thanks.” he muttered as the masked person unceremoniously slammed the door back shut.
If Hans thought near the pub was unnerving, the old docks were downright creepy. All around there sat old warehouses standing like gutted beasts. Loose debris would bang around in the wind and the only other sounds were from the gulls and the lapping waves.
Reassuring himself that there are no zombies running amuck, he continued down closer to the end of the docks searching for any sign that may tell him there's a paper mill.
Just when he thought he might have to get into every warehouse to find it, a sound of echoing footsteps froze him in place.
Running against the wall of the nearest warehouse, Hans found a hole he could peek inside through.
The warehouse was fairly dark, only lit by large windows near the ceiling, and any holes that littered the walls and roof.
And the floor was completely littered with loose papers.
‘This has gotta be it. So where did those footsteps come from?’
Hans continued to peek in till he could make out a figure down toward the far side of the warehouse.
‘That must be this jester guy. Well, Hans, you came this far so just go in there and ask for a job!’
Taking a calming breath, Hans made his way to the entrance of the building and pushed open the old door, barely still hanging on to its hinges. Hans cringed as the door creaked obnoxiously.
“Who’s there?” Hans heard the man inside call out. He didn’t sound too inviting. Hans hoped he didn’t get attacked or something.
“i-I’m Hans. Hans Frei. And I'm looking for the jester. Would that be you?” Hans was very proud of himself for sounding braver than he felt.
Not hearing a reply right away, he decided to go further into the warehouse. It would be better to talk face to face than to shout across the dark building.
About halfway through the warehouse, Hans could smell the tell tale sign of a lit cigarette, and followed it into the mouth of a smaller area cut off from the main area. ‘Looks like an old office space.’ Hans noted.
There sitting at a desk by the back wall was the man Hans had seen earlier, puffing his cigarette. He looked quite strange to Hans. He looked normal for the most part, but two details that left Hans puzzled were blue circles painted on each of his cheeks, and the hood of the hoodie he wore had two floppy rabbit ear-like attachments with little bells on the end. ‘Well, he is called the jester. So I guess he just has to look the part?’
The man appeared to have expected his entrance. As soon as Hans walked in he could feel his eyes on him, and he almost wanted to wither away under his scrutinizing look.
Swinging his feet off the desk he had them propped on, he snuffed out his cigarette into the desks old wood and rose from his seat.
Despite the man not looking all that imposing, he couldn’t even be much taller than him, Hans felt his nerves spike up and chills run down his spine as the man sauntered closer to him.
“So, Hans Frei.” The jester spoke calm and cool-y, as he circled around Hans much like a shark.
“Need I even ask what you could possibly want to see me for?”
Hans gulped. That seemed like an obvious rhetorical question, but he figured he should get to the point anyways.
“I’m looking for work. I want to be recruited under the Count.” Hans was relieved he managed to say that without his voice shaking too much.
The jester said nothing. He was standing in front of Hans again, and, despite being a good couple feet away from him, Hans felt like he was breathing down his neck. His gaze was steady and unnerving, his eyes such a deep brown they almost looked black in the low light. It felt to Hans like he was being torn apart from his gaze alone, causing a cold sweat to run down the back of his neck.
Finally, after what felt like hours to Hans, the jester broke his gaze and heaved a sigh, walking back towards the desk he was sitting at.
“Go home, kid. The Count does not want brats in his service.”
Hans gawked at the jester as he plopped himself back onto the old wooden office chair and lit another cigarette.
He had come all this way… and he was not about to leave empty handed!
“Please reconsider!” filled with a new-found conviction, Hans doubled down.
Marching up to the jesters’ desk, he slammed both hands down and leaned into the others personal space. The jester didn’t look too impressed though. Just annoyed.
“Don’t judge me just because I'm young! I can work twice as hard as any adult!”
The jester blew a lungful of smoke into Hans’ face, causing him to back off, coughing and sputtering.
“Don’t care. Not interested.”
Hans was growing indignant. He balled his fists up tight and tried to steady his emotions. It wouldn’t help his cause if he had some kind of tantrum. It would only prove that the jester was right to call him a brat.
“Look, mr. jester sir. I’m in a desperate position for some work. And nobody is hiring. Trust me, I have been looking around for months. I would not be here if I weren't desperate. So please, just give me a chance before you reject me.”
The jester got up and leaned over the desk, mirroring Hans’ earlier position.
“Listen, sir Frei. lifes tough, yes? No. Not right now it’s not. But working under the Count? Your problems now would seem like the dream life.”
Before Hans had the chance to counter-argue, a deafening bang had them both frozen in place.
Hans spun around wide-eyed towards the office entrance. The bang came from the main area, but it sounded like footsteps were fast approaching their location.
Before Hans could even register what was happening, he felt himself get yanked back and shoved under the old desk.
Hans looked up to the jester, wide-eyed. He had just pulled him back and hid him. Why? Judging from how pale the jester looked and the way his eyes scanned their surroundings like a hawk, it couldn’t be good.
For a stretch of time, things were quiet. Hans couldn’t hear any footsteps outside the office so it seemed like whoever that was had left.
“Wha-” before Hans could get the words out the jesters’ hand slammed into Hans’ lips, silencing him.
The jester was looking at him now, and Hans realized he is not nearly as calm and collected as he thought he was. His pupils were shrunk and he was still pale. Hans could feel a slight tremble in the hand clasped to his mouth, and, much to his disgust, the sweat of his palm.
It was then that it seemed to dawn on Hans just what kind of position he was currently in.
He was in a desolate part of the city, isolated from any kind of help. A place that was probably the prime gang territory. And he was in an abandoned warehouse with someone affiliated with a crime boss. And the bang he heard was most probably a gunshot.
Hans felt all the blood drain from his face.
Very slowly, the jester pulled his hand away from Hans’ mouth. He was no longer looking at him, once again focused solely on what was going on beyond the office walls.
Hans watched in stunned silence as the jester pulled something from his boot. ‘Is that a throwing knife?!’ Then to his dismay, the jester slowly rose and crept silently closer to the office entrance, while sticking close to the walls.
Hans waited there with bated breath, when finally the jester came back to him and put a finger to his lips, signaling Hans to stay quiet. The jester grabbed Hans’ arm, firm but gentle, and pulled him up with him.
Hans was terrified. He wanted to stay hidden underneath the desk! He didn’t want to get dragged away anywhere if there’s a gunman on the loose!
Seeming to catch on to Hans' turmoil, the jester gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, then wasted no more time pulling Hans along with him.
They made it to the office entrance and stopped to look out. Seemingly satisfied, the jester continued on carefully further to the back of the warehouse. Hans’ was confused until he saw that they were approaching an exit that was closer to them than the front entrance.
Just as Hans thought they were about to get out and make a break for it, everything went to shit.
Another gunshot sounded out and Hans was shoved harshly towards the door.
“RUN!” he faintly heard the jester shout through the ringing in his ears. Hans did his best to follow the jesters’ command through his daze. It didn’t seem to be working well for him.
As Hans continued to try and fail to get the door open with his body quaking and feeling like gelatin, he could still faintly hear the commotion behind him. It looked to him like the gunman had hid himself in an effort to ambush them. And it looks like it worked. He could hear a string of curses muttered from the jester, and the click of what he thinks is the cocking of a re-loaded pistol. He paused when he could make out a strange whooshing sound, and then a cry of pain followed by threats and curses.
Hans’ dumbly turned around to see what was happening.
The jester was still a few feet back to Hans’ side, and the gunman was across from them, clutching his free hand to a wound in his shoulder.
Despite his injury the gunman lifted his gun and was aiming for the jester, but his arm was shaking so bad, and his vision must have been blurry, because it looked to Hans, he realized with horror, that the gun was aimed more towards him.
The jester also seemed to notice this.
The next few seconds were a blur.
Hans’ heard the gun go off, but also felt something slam into him at the same time.
Then Hans realized he was outside, and the jester was in the doorway before him. In a swift movement he pulled another knife from his boot and threw it into the warehouse. But he wasn’t fast enough and the gun had gone off again before the knife could hit its target.
The jester grunted and stumbled back, but composed himself and turned to Hans, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him up. Still stunned, he let the jester drag him off into a run.
Panting heavily, the two of them plopped down on the beach underneath an old dock.
Hans was shaking madly, but his shock seemed to wear off as the adrenaline rushed out of his body.
“This is why you don’t want to work for the Count.” The jester cut Hans off before he could even get a question out.
Hans looked over to the jester, annoyed, but softened a bit.
The jester let out a shaky sigh. Hans could see sweat beading his face and dripping from his chin. Hans could see that he was shaking, too.
“You have a future. Don’t ruin it.” Is the only response he got.
“Do you think that man will come looking for us?”
“Not if he wants to survive those stab wounds.”
They sat there in companionable silence for a long stretch of time, regaining their senses.
When Hans noticed the sky was starting to turn pink with the on-coming sunset, the jester went to get up but stopped halfway with a grunt.
“H-hey are you alright?” Hans paled. “Oh my god, you were shot, weren’t you?!”
“I’m not an idiot, Hans.” He ground out. “I’m wearing a bulletproof vest. I always do.”
“Huh?? Do you get shot at often?!”
“No, I manage to stay out of trouble for the most part, but carelessness leads to death in this line of business.”
“So I suggest you take this morsel of experience with you, and live out the rest of your life normally. Work may be scarce at the moment, but that doesn’t mean it will always be this way.”
The jester managed to get to his feet, but Hans could tell he was still in pain.
“Stay vigilant, young master Hans. And remember this, good things come to honest people.”
And with that, the jester just turned and left. Hans continued to sit there a little longer, mulling over the jesters’ words.
‘He seemed like a pretty honest person, the way he looked out for me like that.’
‘I wonder what got him working for the Count….’
(Hans walks to Giulias’ apartment after his encounter at the old docks)
(Hans and Giulia chat about the crime ring)
“Okay, somethings bothering you. Out with it, Hans, what’s the matter?”
Hans and Giulia were sitting on her apartment's fire escape. He often liked to come here after school, knowing that his mother wouldn’t be home till later in the night.
“It’s nothing, Giulia. Really.”
“You have been feeding your favorite sandwich to those pigeons for the last ten minutes. I ain't buying it.”
Hans sighed. He really couldn’t hide anything from her. Guess she made the right choice studying to become a journalist.
“Well, what do you know about the crime ring around here, the one run by the Count guy?”
Giulia blinked at him, surprised. She was not expecting that!
“Well, not a whole lot. I had a few close encounters with their creepy grunts while I was still into doing street graffiti throughout my middle and highschool years. Why? Hans… you didn’t get involved with them… did you?”
Hans refused to meet Giulias gaze. He knew she wouldn’t judge or scold him per-say, but he didn’t want her to start breathing down his neck over this.
“Well, I kinda met somebody who is involved with them. He seemed… nice, though. I guess I've just been wondering what could have someone like him working in a crime ring.
Hans made sure to leave out any of the details that he himself had attempted to get into said crime ring. He learned his lesson from that awful experience getting shot at.
“Well, there’s plenty of different reasons for people to get involved in crime rings. There’s the greedy people who would do anything for money and power, and there're the desperate people who are down on their luck and can’t find honest work.” Hans cringed at that, it hit a little too close to home for him.
“Some idiots just think it's the cool thing to do, and then there’s people that are kinda forced into it, one way or another.”
“It’s much like a cult, Hans. There are willing followers, and there are even people that are born into it.”
Hans’ eyes widened at that. That’s something he had never considered. Was the jester blackmailed, or even born into the Counts servitude? The way he spoke of being part of the ring, it didn’t seem he was there willingly.
“As for this person you met, well, you can’t just take some people at face value. It’s almost guaranteed to be a mask. But, if he really is nice like you say, then he was probably dragged in by unfortunate circumstances.”
‘Well,’ he thought to himself. ‘He certainly wasn’t nice at face-value. I thought he was a huge jerk. It wasn’t till he kept me safe from that gunman that I saw he was actually nice…’
Of course he didn’t say any of this to Giulia. The last thing he needed her knowing is that he almost got shot.
Hans looked up to her as she patted him on his shoulder.
“Soooo, have you met any cute girls yet?” she asked teasingly, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
“Ew, no. Did you?” He teased back.
“Hahaha! Well…” Giulia blushed. “I might have a cute date tonight…”
“Ugh nevermind. Forget I asked.”
She gave his arm a light punch with a smirk. “Grow up!”
(Pat pov, he gets home after his encounter with Hans)
Patronio was exhausted. He was slumped in the private elevator that takes him up to the suites at the top of the ‘Four Kings’ hotel, where he, along with the other important members of the Counts’ ring, lived.
The Count had the whole top floor of the hotel to himself, while the floor beneath was divided into smaller suites that housed him, the Count's daughter Lucrezia, a few of the Counts’ most trusted servants, and the chamberlain, who rarely ever seemed to make use of his.
Patronio dragged himself up and out of the elevator as it reached his floor.
All he wanted at that moment was a hot shower and a long sleep.
He was relieved that Lucrezia was out on a date tonight. As much as he loved her company, for she more often than not decided to hangout in his suite, he was simply too tired and sore.
At least, she was supposed to be out on a date. But as soon as he opened the door, he could see her sprawled out on his bed studying piles of her textbooks.
Looking up as soon as he walked in, she slammed shut the book she was reading and sat up.
“There you are! What took you so long to get back?”
Patronio sighed. He knew she got worried about him if he wasn’t back by a certain time, and he mostly found it endearing, but he was not in the mood to be mothered. He wasn’t even expecting Lucrezia to be home till later that night.
“Lu, why are you here? Don’t you have a date tonight?” He groaned as he made his way past her to his wardrobe to dig out some clean pajamas.
“Hey! You were smoking again, weren’t you?” She scolded him, clearly trying to redirect the conversation.
He gave her an unimpressed look.
She looked away from him with a huff. “... Fine. So, I kinda canceled it…”
Patronio tilted his head at her, concerned.
“Whatever for? You do like this girl, don’t you?”
“Well, y-yes.” she stuttered. Her face flushing red.
Patronio just kept looking at her until she finally broke down to explain.
“Ugh, I just… I can’t possibly date her… anybody for that matter… knowing that it would drag them into this mess that is my life.” She admitted with a tremble to her lip.
Patronio felt himself melt at her confession. Crossing the room, he sat down beside her and rested hand on her shoulder. She leaned into him in return.
“Pat… Why am I so selfish?”
He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him.
“Now you listen here, Lucrezia. You are NOT selfish for wanting a little joy in your life, you understand me? I never want to hear you call yourself selfish again.”
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, searching his for any lie. Seeing how honest he was, she pulled him into a hug.
He momentarily flinched from a shock of pain that went up his side from the impact, but quickly returned her embrace.
He cringed at her tone. A tone that meant an oncoming scolding.
“Oh don’t you Lulu me, Pat. I felt you wince. You’re hurt, aren’t you.”
He mentally cursed himself. He just wanted to go to bed! He didn’t want to deal with an angry mother-hen Lucrezia!
“Ah, heh, funny that, I completely forgot about that little incident earlier. But it's nothing, really.” He, in fact, did not forget about earlier’s incident. Kinda hard to forget that someone was trying to shoot you dead!
Lucrezia pulled away from their embrace, her hands now on his shoulders, mirroring his earlier position.
He found it very hard to keep eye contact with her when she got like this, instead finding the books scattered across his bed very interesting.
“That’s a terrible lie, Patronio. And I can tell it's not just a skinned knee. Now show me.”
He let out a half-groan half-sigh. “Seriously Lucrezia, drop it. It’s nothing ba- OW HEY OWOW!”
He was cut off when Lucrezia started digging her nails into his shoulders.
“OKAY! Okay just stop that! Sheesh you cause me more damage than any bullet!”
Patronio paled, realizing what he just said, and watched as Lucrezias’ eyes widened at him in a shocked rage.
Patronio threw his hands up in a defensive position. “Hey! You know I always wear my bulletproof vest! Seriously it’s no big dea-”
“Would you just shut up and show me!” she snapped, effectively cutting him off into silence.
“Alright! Alright, fine. Sheesh.” He snapped back as he pulled his hoodie over his head, and then the long sleeved shirt beneath that. He looked down his vest and saw the bullet lodged just below his right rib. He began to more carefully remove the vest, unbuckling the sides and pulling the rest over his head, but he was getting sluggish, realizing just how much his side hurts.
Lucrezia helped him pull his vest off the rest of the way and looked at the wound on his side.
She then got up and rushed into his bathroom, pulling out his first aid kit and some clean rags.
Patronio also looked down at his wound and realized it looked a lot worse than he thought it was. There was a small open wound where the tip of the bullet had managed to reach. It was crusted over with dried blood and surrounded with ugly-looking bruising. Sure, he knew bulletproof vests were usually effective at keeping bullets outside of your body, but also knew that didn’t mean they could be stopped from doing any damage. It also dawned on him then that it probably didn’t help that he had continued to run around dragging a teenager along with him after the fact.
Lucrezia then returned to his side with supplies and stayed silent as she dug through the kit pulling out disinfectants and cotton. Patronio always hated when she got quiet like this. He preferred the nagging and snappy Lucrezia.
Patronio groaned as he heard a firm set of knocks on his door.
It seemed only minutes ago he finally managed to convince Lucrezia to stop fussing over him and go to bed so they could both get some sleep, but, looking over to his alarm clock he noted that was quite a few hours ago. He also noted, though, that it was barely daybreak. Not even 4am yet.
At another firm knocking he managed to haul himself up and throw on his clothes before groggily marching up to his door.
Opening it up none too gently, he was greeted with the familiar masked face of a servant.
“The Count wants an audience with you. Now.”
If he wasn’t so tired and annoyed at that moment he might have felt a momentary lapse of trepidation, but his head was all fogged up and he just wanted to get whatever this was about over with.
Patronio and the servant said nothing else as he followed them to the elevator that led to the counts floor.
When the door opened he stepped out into the counts suite. To his slight confusion the servant merely stayed in the elevator as the doors closed behind him.
It was at this time a bit of trepidation came to him. The Count doesn’t usually do one on one meetings unless it’s personal.
Shaking off his unease he continued deeper into the suite, right to the Counts study where he knew he usually took meetings.
This was confirmed as he rasped on the door and was bid entry by the Counts muffled voice on the other side.
Now entering with an air of caution, he was greeted by the Count lounging on his expensive chaise and nursing a glass of rum. The Count beckoned him over to the seat opposite him.
“Patronio! Just the man I wanted to see. Come! Sit! Fix yourself a drink!”
Patronio obeyed still with an air of caution. He still didn’t know what to expect from the Count in this meeting, and his attitude was making him even more suspicious. The Count rarely ever dealt with the formalities, usually getting straight to the point.
And an outwardly friendly attitude from the Count was almost always a red flag. Patronio has seen the Count use this attitude before sending the recipient to the gutters. It made him shiver.
“My thanks, master Lucanor.” He replied out of formality. It was better to play along with the Counts games than to voice your suspicions.
He poured himself a small glass of rum despite having no intention of having any. Again, merely a gesture to play along with the Counts request.
The Count took a swig of his rum then broke the rather suffocating silence between them.
“How long have you been working for me now, Patronio?”
He blinked at the odd question. He’s sure the Count knew as well as he did, probably better even, how long he has been working under the Count. He felt his trepidation growing into an unease in the pit of his stomach.
“Oh, over twenty years by now, sire.”
“Hm, indeed. Seems like only yesterday to me, though.” The Count nodded along, a sort of faux wistfulness to his tone.
He still didn’t know where the Count was going with this, so stayed quiet.
“Patronio, my most faithful servant. You really are like a son to me, you know that?”
His blood ran cold. Besides the irony of being called ‘like a son’ by the person responsible for his parents’ demise, there was an edge to the Counts' tone that put Patronio on edge. He tried to wrack his brain for anything he might have done to piss off the Count, but kept coming up blank.
“Oh, indeed?” He replied, keeping up his mask of polite interest despite everything screaming ‘WRONG’ to him. He almost felt nauseous.
“Yes, indeed.” He nodded firmly. “That is why, Patronio, it pains me so much to know that you have betrayed my faith.”
The Count finally dropped the bomb and he felt his breath catch. ‘Betrayed his faith? He couldn’t have possibly caught on to my plan of getting Lucrezia far away from him, could he?’ He really was starting to feel nauseated now.
“Betrayed your’ faith, my Count?” He knew he was taking a big risk by asking any questions, but he just needed something more to work with.
The Count sprang up from his seat and paced to the other side of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Hesitantly, Patronio also rose from his seat. Another courtesy thing with the Count. If he sits, you sit. And if he stands, you stand. Unless explicitly said otherwise.
The Count turned back around to face him. His face was still a mask but Patronio could see a cold fury in his eyes.
“Come now, Patronio. I know you have several important jobs as my jester, but surely you can deduce where you might have slipped up recently?”
He felt a small bit of relief deducing that this did not have anything to do with his and Lucrezias’ plots, but still couldn’t seem to figure out where he might have done something wrong work-wise.
Seeming to notice his genuine confusion, the Count sighed and marched over to his desk picking something up.
“Perhaps this shall jog your memory?”
It was a tape recorder. The Count pressed play.
“I’m looking for work. I want to be recruited under the Count.”
“Go home, kid. The Count does not want brats in his service.”
“Please reconsider!” “Don’t judge me just because I'm young! I can work twice as hard as any adult!”
“Don’t care. Not interested.”
“Look, mr. jester sir. I’m in a desperate position for some work. And nobody is hiring. Trust me, I have been looking around for months. I would not be here if I weren't desperate. So please, just give me a chance before you reject me.”
“Listen, sir Frei. lifes tough, yes? No. Not right now it’s not. But working under the Count? Your problems now would seem like the dream life.”
And then the recording stopped. Leaving behind a deafening silence.
Patronios’ blood felt ice cold. He was spied on?! How careless was he! Was the shooter somehow involved in this? His head was positively spinning with burning questions and indignancies.
The Count sighed through his nose and came back towards him.
Patronio felt his skin crawl.
The Count placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You are way too valuable to me to mess up like this, Patronio.”
So fast he couldn’t react, the Count gave his shoulder a shove, knocking him a couple steps back, then kicked him hard in the abdomen.
He went down like a sack of flour. His breath escaped his lungs as he doubled over in pain. The Count had managed to kick almost square onto his bullet wound. He couldn’t have even done so intentionally, since only Lucrezia knew about it.
The Count knelt down before him as he continued to struggle to catch his breath, and lifted his chin to meet his eyes. Patronio wanted nothing more than to bite and scratch and inflict any sort of damage to the Count at that moment, but he made sure to keep his composure.
“You know I value younger, more influenceable recruits, Patronio. And you had one right in the palm of your hand. But you ruined it.”
The Count let go of his chin and stalked back towards the other end of the room, leaving him to shudder as he tried to push down his pain.
“So what was it, Patronio. Was it some sort of bleeding-heart sentiment for this boy? Are you going soft?” The Counts’ voice seemed to echo uncomfortably loud to him. He stayed silent.
“If you were becoming unable to handle recruiting, you should have just told me so instead of messing up like this.” He spat.
Patronio still stayed silent. His head felt impossibly heavy, he could hardly keep it upright.
“You’re lucky I value your other work too much to simply discard you for this.” Funny, he thought to himself, he certainly didn’t ever feel lucky. But the Count had a point, he has discarded servants for much more menial transgressions.
The Count heaved another sigh, his rage seemingly spent.
“I’ll just have to find a new recruiter, then.” The Count looked down at him coolly.
“Perhaps my lovely daughter Lucrezia. I’m sure she could find a way to… tempt people into joining.”
Patronio felt like ice had frozen in his veins at the Counts’ words.
No! There was no way he was going to let the Count drag Lucrezia into whatever sick idea he might have had! She was too close to getting out of the Counts clutches for everything to fall apart because of his carelessness!
With a new found adrenaline he rose to his feet.
“Wait! Please, my Count. I made a grave mistake. Please, forgive my transgression, tell me how I can make up for this!” He didn’t like how pleading he sounded, but he was so desperate then that he couldn’t bring himself to care.
The Count continued to give him a cold, calculating look, before he seemed to reach a decision.
“Very well, Patronio. I will give you one chance to fix this, but only because you are like family.”
He almost felt like he could wretch at that, but he was too relieved that he managed to get a chance to keep Lucrezia out of this.
“If you really want to keep your position as a recruiter so badly, then you must find that Hans boy and bring him here by midday.”
Patronio almost gaped at him. By all means he should have expected that, and would have if his mind wasn’t currently so scrambled.
Catching himself he bowed down to the Count instead, a formality to excuse himself.
“Of course, my Count. I shall not let you down again.”
“Yes, see to it that you do not.”
And with that he wasted no time getting out of the Counts’ suite and down to the lobby.
He had the address of a Mr. and/or Mrs. Frei to find.
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