Medieval Fantasy Adult Only RP

1400s, Venice, Italy

Venice was a city of oppulence and wealth, a city filled with luxury and culture, a centre for arts and mastery in many crafts. A lot of merchants had raised fortunes through trading yet even the wealthiest stood worlds apart from the few true elder nobility whose vast inherited wealth accounted for more than three quarters of the lands.

A man could change his stars with enough skill, dedication and effort but none could reach for the sky if they were born to the lower classes, often treated with contempt by the upper one who played a game of power and influence above all else, through murders and marriages to expand their insatiable greed for greater wealth and dominion over the rest.

These few noble families held the strings of destiny. They felt unchallenged, powerful enough to assume they would never be toppled until the time came for a touch of destiny to change all known fates and bring about true change.

The city of Venice had been mourning the death of the Doge of Venice, with his passing a new ruler has been appointed and the entire city was celebrating the new reign with extended festivities, by day, great balls and oppulent feasts crowd streets and noble palaces.

By night, the city was covered in colourful fireworks and music and dances, laterns lighting up the night though dim enough to conceal everyone's identities.

Rumour had it that an assassin was striking hard at the heart of the nobility for many high lords had died recently in many varied ways, the former Doge of Venice no exception. No one knew who this daring assassin was or when they would strike next but the fear was cast aside yet again for another night of masquaredes, whether they would prove fatal and for whom remained to be seen.

One thing was certain, this undeterred scheming assassin must have had a reason for seeking revenge... only time would tell if they would fall on their sword or accomplish their murderous mission before putting the blades to rest.

Gossip on the gondolas spoke of a terrible happening, a beautiful young noble woman was kidnapped from her bed chambers by someone of importance after she rejected their advances and weeks later, her body was found dead, floating in the waters of Venice.

When her brother went to seek justice, the doors and ears were shut to his pleas and demands, now suspicion fell upon his shoulders. Without solid proof he could not be apprehended. Whether he was the assassin or not, remained to be seen, for there may be more hands at play.

For quite some time a rebellious group of peasants had grown tired of being robbed of money, provisions and daughters and wives to furnish the lavish feasts and excesses of the nobility, having finally taken matters into their own hands... there was no telling if they acted as a group or they had a champion dispatching unwanted ones and hearing their pleas. One thing everyone knew is that, said assassin always left a black feather by the corpse he or she struck down.

In these times of turmoil one had watch who they trusted and what they spoke of for spies were always ready to report and inform in return for coin.

If life was sprawling for the wealthy, the poorer lower classes had a much more bleak present, trampled between the power struggles of the greatest families they were forced to take losses in their humbles trades, pay up hefty sums in the form of taxes at each changing ruler and undertake labours and work that many decent men and women would readily shun out of the immoral nature of the tasks themselves from posing for artists with little to no attire, to entertaining the wealthy men and women who paid a fair amount of coin for entertainment and pleasure.

The new Doge of Venice was a promising change, a refreshing nobleman who actually bothered to listen to word on the street and follow matters more closely, he knew disgruntled commoners had to be appeased, their needs met, their complaints heard.

First things first, he wanted to get to the bottom of the notorious murder and appointed Dante d'Ettore to investigate truth from lies, facts from rumours. Justice had to be made on this woman's behalf if the populace was to be appeased and he hoped closing her case justly would bring a time of peace for all. Whether his good fair nature would be enough to ensure he remained alive on the throne, that remained to be seen.

Dante, the youngest lieutenant on the Reggimento Corazzieri had been assigned the case of the dead woman floating face down in the canal just east of the highly-regulated Castelletto district; where the boundary of the "Carampane", is demarcated by the infamous "Ponte della Tette", also known as the "Bridge of Tits".

Arriving soon after the notification of a wedged, partially submerged, body under the bridge, Dante carefully made his way to the water's edge to gain a better look. Knowing full well, his view would soon be hampered by the setting sun.

As he made his way to the bridge's abutment, he slipped, his booted feet submerging in the murky waters, his gloved hand the only saving grace from full-bodied submersion. Posting a quick curse, he decidedly grabbed the woman's dress and pulled her to him. Carefully he pulled the dead weight to the nearest landing for the gondolas, then with all his might, hefted the body onto the wooden and stone structure.

With the waning light, he surveyed the body the best he could and saw that she was dressed in attire of the patrizi, the high nobles. This would not bear well under scrutiny. Capitano d'Ezzelini had warned him of the murders that had already occurred during the celebration period.

Making his way back to the walkway, he whistled as he saw the Corazzieri night patrol on the opposite side of the bridge. Waving his hand, motioning them, he yelled... "Another floater... I need assistance."

Then he would make his way back down the walkway to the landing, and continue investigating.

Sir Lucas and his men were on night patrol when he heard the call for help and hurried down the cobbled streets, over the bridge and to Dante's side, coming to assist with the corpse that had been pulled out of the water.

"Oh goodness, no... this is la nobildonna Giovanna, young and only sister of lord Vincent di Medici" reported Lucas knowing well the woman from having offered had to offer her services as bodyguard on a few occasions.

He shook his head at the wasted beauty and decent life she lead, passing his hands over her face to close her eyes. He took his cloak off to cover her from any passing eyes, out of respect for the deceased and waved the men to go fetch a stretcher with which to carry her away as soon as Dante gave them permission to do so.

She would, of course, be taken to her brother's house where her body could be tended to and prepared for the inevitable funeral within the coming hours, sending a messenger to urgently inform the Doge for a ruler ought to always be informed right away

Philip had been standing in the balcony, gazing at the city, fireworks and lights below when the messenger broke the news of the dead woman.

Such tragedy was a heavy burden for any ruler to bear, nevermind a newly appointed one of a relatively young age and more than enough disgruntled nobles wanting to oust him already.

He took a deep breath, not about to act in haste, and made his way to Capitano d'Ezzelini. "Greetings... captain... what news or details of this latest tragedy?" asked Philip in a grave voice that had a calm to it which was wise and well beyond his years.

It would not befit a young ruler to display fear nor wrath but rather allow the military to conduct the necessary investigations and report their findings before deciding what course of action if any ought to be taken. The girl in question was lord Vincent's sister, and the man was rich beyond measure and vindictive enough to see the entire city of Venice burnt to the ground.

Then there was the matter of the pretender, everyone thought he was the culprit, either himself or any member of his family, or any close friend or acquaintance.

Exonerating them without proof would hardly appease the brother of the deceased, but not doing so soon would risk yet another death among the patrician families which had to be averted at all costs, there had been enough blood spilled lately.

Such tragedy was senseless, but such was the underlying theme in the lesser Sestieri such as San Polo, but of late, even the nobility, was not free from senselessness, for the dead woman, having been confirmed as Patrizi by Signore Lucas. He could only look to the man and nod. "Thank you for the identification, Signore. "

One of Signore Lucas' men had brought a torch, which Dante politely took from him as he held it over the woman's body for one last look. Oddly, he noticed that her expensive jewelry had not been removed, nor the coin purse attached to her belt. With a cant of his head, he said nothing, but arose to hand the torch back to the Corazzieri. Looking to Sir Lucas, he spoke solemnly... "She may return to her family Signore... with the complements of the Corazzieri. I shall give my report to Capitano d'Ezzelini at once."

The location where the woman was found, the highly-regulated Castelletto district; where the boundary of the "Carampane" (red-light district), is demarcated by the infamous "Ponte della Tette", was not far from the Reggimento Corazzieri compound, and the Captain needed to be updated immediately, so he can inform the Provveditore Generale degli Affari Militari, (The Superintendent General of for Military Affairs) Signore Enrico de Parma, who would brief the Doge as to the situation; especially since Signore Lucas had sent a messenger already.

Dante left the area with the knowledge he had, and at his own walking pace he could out-distance any gondola. Besides, he was in shape, the Captain ensured his men remain healthy, especially any up and coming young lieutenant.

Through the gate of the compound, across the open training area, to the stairs, bounding, two at a time, and rapping upon the captain's office upstairs, which doubled as quarters.

Capitano Marco d' Ezzelini was known for being a man of absolute integrity, and is deeply frustrated by corruption within the Republic. Brusque but good-humored, d' Ezzelini is both commander to the Corazzieri and brother-figure to his lieutenants.

Sleepy-eyed, the man answered his door, not surprised to see Dante, his officer currently on duty. "What brings you to my door at this hour?" Like the man did not know. The following delivered report was brief, detailed, and to the point. And while the lieutenant spoke, Marco was getting dressed.

Sending a messenger to Signore de Parma, the Provveditore Generale degli Affari Militari, with Dante's report, Marco would arrive about the same time as his superior to the Doge's office.

With slight bows of the head, their hats being removed, Dante and Marco stood on either side of Signore de Parma, with Enrico remaining alilent allowing Marco to report:

"Mi scuso maestà (Apologies my Majesty), regarding the young noble woman, la nobildonna Giovanna, young and only sister of lord Vincent di Medici, who was kidnapped from her bed chambers weeks ago, this evening we have found her body floating in the canal near "Ponte della Tette". Unsure why she was there; no flow of the canals could put her there, apparently she had been kept somewhere nearby, murdered by stabbing her in the stomach and tossing her into the canal. My men are scouring the area now for leads."

Dante lowered his head seeing the angst upon Signore de Parma's face. He was aware that the man knew the deceased's brother, and how he sought justice, the doors and ears had been shut to his pleas and demands; yet suspicion fell upon the shoulders of lord Vincent di Medici. Still there was no solid proof ,and he could not be apprehended. And then there were the issue of the vigilantes, that rebellious group of peasants seeking to take things into their own hands. Reflecting upon his own issues when calming down those riotous individuals.

Now that the Doge had been updated, the men were dismissed, and the trio spoke as in the halls as to what the Corazzieri would be required to do... keep the peace at all costs, and find the culprit or culprits assassinating the nobility. Signore de Parma instructed Marco to do what was necessary... and that relegated to Dante.

Each large city of Europe employs some sort of guard, or police… some form of non-or-para-military, to protect the royals, the nobles, and other influential citizens… but who stood up for the common man? It was always stated that the Sovereign or military would protect them… but that is such falsehood. Beneath the layers of royalty and nobility lay a thin layer of merchants… and the thicker layer of common folk, usually the poorest of the people. But between the layers of class and prosperity, between good and bad, lay a breed of people that remained in the shadows… that group of men and women that some would call the underworld.

And in this layer, known as the underworld, existed a culture of unscrupulous individuals... assassins, mercenaries, body-snatchers, highwaymen, smugglers, pirates, spies, forgers, and counterfeiters… And Arcasian, the name, not the face, was well-known among them. He was no leader, nor follower. He was the sponsor of malice; the investor of malevolence. He was the underworlds’ financier… and ally to the corrupt. And he had followers… men similar to him that seeks profit.

Vicious, amoral and uncompromising – gangster Lucca Arcasian is one of the deadliest things to happen Europe. Raised amidst the horror of war, Lucca has been brutalized to such an extent that nothing but rage and chaos fit his twisted psychology. Violence is always the answer. But Lucca Arcasian is no mere thug; his razor-sharp intellect has seen him rise from the gutter to become one of Europe’s most prolific underworld financier and an indispensable ally to the corrupt.

Venezia, London, Rome, Paris, Naples, Vienna… towns of Ghent, Diest, Tirlemont and Brussels… He had been to them all… summoned by those that were corrupt, and coin was to be made… and where he visited, so came havoc. Havoc wrought in places like the Dutch lowlands… the Battle of the Banat, the Battle of Turnahout, and the Saxons peasant revolts of yesteryear... Profit followed folly, or havoc… and every dog of war had a shadow… and that shadow was affiliated with Arcasian.

Tis true Lucca understands broken people… for he had once been one himself. Having been exploited and preyed upon by the cruelest of men, he found a path to justice… or revenge. Now he exploits weaknesses and preys on people’s worst fears, making him an insidious and unpredictable new kind of enemy. He is neither vengeful nor political; he believes in nothing and loves no one. It makes him the loneliest man on earth… but also the most dangerous. At least that is what he thinks… but there is one who lingers upon his brain… a past that he cannot forget… nor truly wishes to, despite his own words…. Tessina Calogera

But even Arcasian had a shadow… one of heart and mind. She was the most beautiful thing, and he desired it; but she would only appear long enough to keep his heart and mind from becoming reclusive. Dare he title her as evil?

Lucca never tired of the subversion, the thrill of the hunt, and the heavy pouches of profit. Just like in the Saxon peasant revolts, where initially the peasants succeeded in getting the lords to waiver all duties, payment of rent on feudal land, and interest on any loan… all thanks be to Lucca supplying them weapons and supplies, at a cost... and only 10 months later to be reimbursed by the lords, particularly the ones expelled by their peasants, and diverting the supplies from the peasants, to the lords; enabling a major military operation which overthrew the rebellion. And Lucca? He and his men walked away with heavy pouches… and in search of the next profit.

And in Venezia, there were those that knew the name "Arcasian" and his tasks he was willing to perform, at a cost... So a Florentine banknote had made its way to his hands in Brussels... payment for deeds forthcoming in Venezia.

Desiring to bypass London and Paris, he decided to go by land rather than sea… his trek would depart Stockholm by ship, enoute to Gdansk … where he would hire a carriage from Gdansk via Poznan to Prague… then by horse to Vienna and onto Veneto. And by boat to the Venetian lagoon and into the Cannaregio Canal near Venice's northern shore, thru the Ferrovia-Rialto artery past the amazingly silent and attractive area of this amazing city to the livelier stretches further to the south along Fondamenta della Misericordia.

Now tis the winter of the New Year… and this would be Lucca’s rest stop… where he could blend in, and disappear. And rest he would attempt… for four days, all was well, for his tired body sought the refuge of deep sleep…that was until… the dreams… or rather nightmares would begin. He would see visions of his youth… of his father dead in an alley… of his mother and a younger passenger lying in a carriage, in the pools of their red blood… of his abuse in the orphanage. Had it been abuse or punishment for his theft of godly items? Then there were the nightmares of a young love… and the death of baby and mother. Of love so blight..

In the nightmares, it mattered not, for the visions could be true or marred… still the man awoke in a sweat, his bed damp from perspiration. He scratched his two-day beard, then leaned forward as his mind veered to the one woman he could never get from his mind… in waking or asleep… her pale skin highlighted by stunning eyes of deep pine green and her luscious lips of bright red. “Damn her…” and he rose from the bed and dove his face into a basin of stale, cold water.

Only six days in Venice, and the Doge was dead... no one suspected how or why... but the city had been mourning the death of their Supreme leader. And on the seventh day came the appointment of a new ruler and the entire city was celebrating the new reign with extended festivities, by day, great balls and opulent feasts crowd streets and noble palaces. By night, Lucca would roam the streets. By the eighth day, he had received his payment for dirty deeds done not so cheaply. Yet bade he remain for more, to which he would, IF the coin continued to flow his direction.

Lord Vincent was a man of coin, part of his wealth along with his noble titles and lands were inherited from his ancestors but the other half of his wealth had been gained through his trade and political dealings, through his hard work indeed.

The arrival of Sir Lucas and his comrades carrying his sister's dead body did not bode well at all, the heartbroken man shaking his head as his worst fears came to pass. He immediately called a servant and sent for Colette, a renowned medic with fame that expanded across the city. He had to know the cause of death, he had to know what harms befell his sister in her final hours but could not bear to look upon her seemlessly sleeping body, stained in blood.

His mind immediately focused on vengeance, calling for Rindes at once, sending his servant Matthew to scour the city and find the no-good yet resourceful woman. He would task her with the delicate matter of uncovering if his sister's disgruntled pretender, Sir Henry Morgan, a naval officer, had indeed brought her harm and perhaps even shame. Suspicion fell heavy upon the military figure who could have easily orchestrated his sister's kidnap given her frequent refusal of his advances and his poor station in life.

Such distasteful yet necessary tasks meant he would require immediate funds with which to pay Rindes. Her price was steep but she always yielded results too, thus, a worthwhile investment. Unforunately, most of his merchant vessels had not yet reached Venice and so he would have to arrange alternative funds until they came to port, his attentions also turning to Arcasian. A man much needed and despised in equal measure for his steep interests would make any commoner consider it twice before approaching the lender.

Not so Vincent who was set upon finding the truth about his sister and the real culprit and assassin no matter the cost involved in bringing his sister justice. He sent Thelmer, his bodyguard, to find the banker and bring him to his house at once, preferrably, before Rindes arrived. If not, when she was there too, that she might get paid right away. Vincent knew all too well that assassins and informants were to be paid well and a good half in advance to cover expenses and ensure loyalty, at least, during the entrusted matter.

A loud pounding at her door roused her from her desk, sleepy eyes turning to the candle that was near burnt to its bottom. Another set of loud raps against the heavy wood of her door and she hissed, "Alright. Alright. Coming! No need to beat my door in." Her foot steps shuffled as she made it there to find a servant boy. His disheveled and exhausted appearance gave her pause as she waited for the lad to catch his breath.

"Lord Vincent. Calls for you. Urgently."

Colette looked past him to the noise of celebration and the light in the distance. She lived close enough to be of use but far enough that the night life did not keep her awake at night, or disturb her work. Work that had her pouring over old texts and finding new ways to inspect the dead. "Take me there now."

The door was closed briefly as she shuffled inside and retrieved her traveling case and coat. Coming back out she couldn't help the errie feeling of forbidding that coated her spine and sent a chill to her limbs. Many had come to her in these past few days, all dead by various means. Poison. Bludgeoning. Knife wounds. All nobles. Of course she had sworn to the new Doge of Vincent that her words would not fall on ears that should not recieve such information.

The travel there took some time on foot, but they made haste all the same. The servant boy was given her case upon arrival as she was led inside. She looked at Lord Vincent and inclined her head appropiately. "My Lord, I can only assume you calling me here means it is someone dear. I am sorry for your loss." Her words were spoken quickly but respectfully as her eyes roamed the room. "Take me to the body and tell me all that you know thus far."

Colette had seen a great many things, even as a child she knew exactly how much pain the human body could take. How much blood it held. Her father had been one of the greastest and scariest men she had ever had the misfortune of meeting. A serial killer of his time, his various methods were taught to her fromt he moment she could hold a knife in her toddler hands. However were he drew pleasure from such revolting ventures she drew inspiriation to heal. To mend.

Now a doctor who used what was engrained into her to help those around her. She could only hope her deeds were enough to wash the blood from her family name and her own hand.

Rindes was more than just a part of the night life of Venice, it was who she was and she thrived in it. She had made quite a name for herself in the seedy underbelly, and naturally that extended to quite a few nobles. Not all of them were bad people, some used her talents for what they considered good, but they all used her nonetheless. She didn't much care what they wanted her to do, so long as they payed her well for it. She may hide and operate in the slums, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy some luxuries.

Tonight was a night much like any other, regardless of the celebrations the city was currently undertaking. There may be a new doge, but the old one had been murdered, and his was not the only murder going around. There was of course speculation going around as to who was responsible, but it was nothing more than speculation at this point. No one really had a clue who was behind it yet.

One of the few locations one would know to check for Rindes, was a tavern that hosted most of the night life. A place of irrefutable business, Morgan's tavern was quite popular with the more devious folk. Though with the bad, came some knights who would try to disrupt things and take people in. Thus, if someone came looking for you, it was likely they would have to wait a while, while their intentions were judged. Luckily, Matthew would not have long to wait for Rindes to make her appearance.

Lord Vincent turned to the healer Colette, waving her to follow. He walked her through the lavishly decorated corridors until he halted before a solid wooden oaken door, engraved with the family's coat of arms. He opened the door solemnly, as if his sister was asleep and brought the woman to the large chambers where his sister's body had been laid on the bed, hands folded over her chest.
"Here she is..." muttered Vincent going to stand away from the bed, by the window, his eyes fixed on Colette.



"I know little of what befell my sister. She was taken from her chambers in the dead of night, two weeks ago. There was no ransom demanded, no signs of her until her lifeless body was found floating in the river this morning" explained Vincent. "I would have gladly paid any sum to have her returned... alive... alas it is too late now, all the money in the world cannot bring her back" accepted Vincent troubled at the happenings.

"Hard to know if she was maiden or not by then, if she struggled or not at any point. If she suffered any kind of harm or poisoning. I have no heart to see her up close" admitted Vincent "I shall leave you to do your task and learn what you can, with your acquired skills" explained Vincent.

"I will have a manservant at your service and await in the great hall for your findings, if you excuse me" murmured Vincent leaving the upsetting scene to leave the healer to her job whilst he awaited for Arcasian the banker and Rindes the assassin to arrive, his mind gnawed by suspicions against the marine officer who had tried to court her a few times.

Sir Thelmer heard Vincent's wishes and task at hand attentively, bowing at his liege and making haste to go out and find Arcasian right away.

Where he would find such a man at such late hours of the night was no easy task, but, one had to assume a man of his callibre and lack of morals would likely be found where money could be made. With that trail of thought in mind, he roamed the streets of vice, where gamblers and drunkards were rife.

He had never personally met such a shady character so he started asking passers-by if they had indeed seen Lucca Arcasian or knew of his whereabouts. The matter at hand was urgent enough to warrant troubling strangers for clues or hints of the man's location.

If and when he found the man in question, he would be sure to offer him coin to get his attentions and some more to ensure he followed back to the grand palace of lord Vincent.

Matthew was as cowardly as cowards could get, even venturing into Morgan's tavern felt quite overwhelming given its bad reputation.
He would go but he would stay as close to the door as possible and remain in the establishment as short a time as necessary, ready to break out into a run at the least sign of trouble.
When Rindes showed up among the crowd of rowdy patrons, he came over to her, tapping her on the shoulders to get her attentions.

His nerves, of course, quickly betrayed him causing him to blush bright red like a beetroot and stammer kicked in as he tried to address the actually stunning woman, not having expected her to be such a looker.
If beauty was deadly... that would be making perfect to him right at that very moment, when his eyes set on her.

He would have liked to explain to her all about the proposed mission but all he could manage was to extend the woman a pouch with a significant number of silver and golden pieces, arm visibly trembling as he extended the payment to her. "F...f... for... y.. y... you... c.. c... come" urged Matthew now wishing the ground opened up and swallowed him whole.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Rindes turned to face Matthew, quite amused as he seemed to lose what little bravery he had mustered. It was clear he wasn't here of his own choice, and instead had been sent to fetch her. He didn't seem to belong to this world of hers. It was also quite obvious by the way he blushed, well before he managed to get any words out, that he didn't interact with many women.

She raised an eyebrow and looked him over when he extended a pouch, before reaching out and taking it. Judging the weight in her hand, she determined that it was a worthy enough starting amount, depending on what his employer was looking for. Tucking it into her pocket, she nodded at him.

"Lead the way." She said, though the look she gave him seemed to express that he had better think twice if he intended to lead her into any harm. With that settled, she would follow Matthew where he would lead her, prepared to fight if she had to, but choosing to believe he wasn't that stupid.

Colette followed silently, minding the route out of instinct as she counted each staircase they passed, each window and the steps it took to get to the room. It was a solemn feeling to see one so young taken before there time. Her face was peaceful, it seemed someone had closed her eyes as most bodies did not do so on their own.

“I understand. I will treat her with the care befitting royalty and have answers for you as soon as I can.”

She bowed as he departed and turned her attention toward the bed. “My precious child. I hope you are warm and safe where ever your soul has gone. I am sorry for whatever horrors you have seen.”

Colette moved to the door and asked for two servants to assist her move the late Lady to a table so that she may examine her properly. The bed did not provide the best surface and space to do so.

When that was done she politely excused them from the room and went back to the departed. Her case sat open as she reached in for the scissors and began removing the clothing.

She worked quietly, removing the clothing and covering the poor girl with a blanket as she ran her fingers over her arms and hands. Pausing at the wrists that were red and bruised from being tied there. Small scratches overlapped the bruising. A soft tsk passed her lips, “cheap,” she mused with disdain.

The hands caught her attention as she picked up one and used a pick to clean from under the nails. The caked dark caked mud was still wet and fresh. The nails torn and cracked from clawing the earth. “You fought. At least this much,” she muttered.

“So you were tied and kept then drowned. Whomever took you was patient. And cruel.”

Her examination lasted two hours, of her meticulously searching over the body. Noting every bruise, scratch, or discoloring. The poor Lady had suffered some cruelty but not much.

With her observations complete, she made her way to the Great Hall. Walking by the guidance of the manservant and waiting to be acknowledged before speaking. She felt bad for the nobles. To be hunted in such a fashion had to be unnerving. To know simply having title and coin was not enough to protect you from the darkness that lurked within the town.

Colette folded her hands behind her back and counted the windows within the Great Hall.