On hindsight, this had not been one of his brother Giuliano's better ideas.
Lorenzo had to pause to take a breather, panting heavily, when Giuliano hauled him up onto the slippery, slate roof. His brother, Firenze's 'golden boy', even trotted over to the precarious edge of the roof to glance quickly behind them, at the distant shouts of the mercenaries who were pursuing them both, and grinned wickedly, the silver mantle from the moon making his handsome face wolfish under his cowl. They were both dressed unassumingly, with clothes that Giuliano had somehow procured earlier that afternoon, in storm gray cowls, brown breeches and tunics, and they looked nothing more like a pair of merchant brats out for mischief. Giuliano had laughed when he had voiced this opinion, and had somehow talked him into it anyway.
“We'll head north, over the rooftops,” Giuliano said jauntily, “And then we'll have lost them, easily.”
Lorenzo reflected tiredly that 'north over the rooftops' involved a dangerous route over narrow roofs and insane rope bridges, but for once, didn't have the breath to contradict his brother, up until Giuliano grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him forward.
“We are due to inherit Firenze at any time, and you look to kill us both.”
“Oh, I am sure that Nannina will do just as well as either of us,” Giuliano said dismissively, as they set out briskly in the apparent pursuit of lethal insanity. “You cannot deny that this has been a most instructive evening.”
“Discovering that there are men who would try to kill us at any cost should we be identified on the street without our guards?”
“Our current state of popularity with the public-”
Lorenzo groaned, rubbing at his temple as he tried his best to keep up with Giuliano without slipping and meeting an undignified, broken death far below. “Not so much the public but the N'ghata Merchant princes-”
“This will be our city,” Giuliano waved a hand out to encompass the winding slate rooftop maze of Firenze. “We cannot learn its heartbeat safe within our palazzo, hiding behind our ledgers.”
“I would have preferred to learn its heartbeat with a complement of guards,” Lorenzo tried his best not to look down as he followed Giuliano in a short leap over a stomach-churning drop.
“The bank's finances are beginning to slow since our grandfather's time,” Giuliano disagreed. “We needed to... ah. Buona sera, good sir.”
To Lorenzo's horror, an archer had emerged from behind a rooftop garden, looking startled to see them both, raising his bow. “What are the two of you doing here! This is the residence of Galiano Matteo! It is a restricted area!”
“Good sir,” Giuliano said, with a bright smile, “My brother and I are-npth-”
Lorenzo had hastily clapped a hand over Giuliano's mouth. Gritting his teeth, he said, as politely as he could, “Unfortunately my brother and I have taken up a most regrettable dare. Please forgive our trespass. We will leave immediately.”
“A dare?” The archer shot them both a dubious stare, but he lowered his bow a fraction.
“From a young lady, sir,” Lorenzo said, trying to sound abashed and probably appearing exasperated instead.
The archer, however, shook his head and jerked his chin to a ladder leading downwards to his right. “Just leave. Cristo, young people nowadays.”
Giuliano wisely refrained from commenting, possibly after Lorenzo viciously kicked him in the ankle as he opened his mouth again, until they were another street away and squinting at the thoroughfares. This wasn't an area of Firenze that Lorenzo recognised on sight.
“We're lost,” Giuliano said primly, after another turn down a random street. “This is why I wanted to use the roof.”
“Be silent,” Lorenzo growled, glancing up, then he paused as he noticed a cage of pigeons, set up in a nook atop a second storey of a house, ahead of them at a corner. Could that be...?
“Now you see my point.” Giuliano said, as they clambered undoubtedly noisily up a stack of crates and over a sill to the cage, then he frowned. “Lorenzo, what are you doing?”
The Long Game [1/?]
On hindsight, this had not been one of his brother Giuliano's better ideas.
Lorenzo had to pause to take a breather, panting heavily, when Giuliano hauled him up onto the slippery, slate roof. His brother, Firenze's 'golden boy', even trotted over to the precarious edge of the roof to glance quickly behind them, at the distant shouts of the mercenaries who were pursuing them both, and grinned wickedly, the silver mantle from the moon making his handsome face wolfish under his cowl. They were both dressed unassumingly, with clothes that Giuliano had somehow procured earlier that afternoon, in storm gray cowls, brown breeches and tunics, and they looked nothing more like a pair of merchant brats out for mischief. Giuliano had laughed when he had voiced this opinion, and had somehow talked him into it anyway.
“We'll head north, over the rooftops,” Giuliano said jauntily, “And then we'll have lost them, easily.”
Lorenzo reflected tiredly that 'north over the rooftops' involved a dangerous route over narrow roofs and insane rope bridges, but for once, didn't have the breath to contradict his brother, up until Giuliano grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him forward.
“We are due to inherit Firenze at any time, and you look to kill us both.”
“Oh, I am sure that Nannina will do just as well as either of us,” Giuliano said dismissively, as they set out briskly in the apparent pursuit of lethal insanity. “You cannot deny that this has been a most instructive evening.”
“Discovering that there are men who would try to kill us at any cost should we be identified on the street without our guards?”
“Our current state of popularity with the public-”
Lorenzo groaned, rubbing at his temple as he tried his best to keep up with Giuliano without slipping and meeting an undignified, broken death far below. “Not so much the public but the N'ghata Merchant princes-”
“This will be our city,” Giuliano waved a hand out to encompass the winding slate rooftop maze of Firenze. “We cannot learn its heartbeat safe within our palazzo, hiding behind our ledgers.”
“I would have preferred to learn its heartbeat with a complement of guards,” Lorenzo tried his best not to look down as he followed Giuliano in a short leap over a stomach-churning drop.
“The bank's finances are beginning to slow since our grandfather's time,” Giuliano disagreed. “We needed to... ah. Buona sera, good sir.”
To Lorenzo's horror, an archer had emerged from behind a rooftop garden, looking startled to see them both, raising his bow. “What are the two of you doing here! This is the residence of Galiano Matteo! It is a restricted area!”
“Good sir,” Giuliano said, with a bright smile, “My brother and I are-npth-”
Lorenzo had hastily clapped a hand over Giuliano's mouth. Gritting his teeth, he said, as politely as he could, “Unfortunately my brother and I have taken up a most regrettable dare. Please forgive our trespass. We will leave immediately.”
“A dare?” The archer shot them both a dubious stare, but he lowered his bow a fraction.
“From a young lady, sir,” Lorenzo said, trying to sound abashed and probably appearing exasperated instead.
The archer, however, shook his head and jerked his chin to a ladder leading downwards to his right. “Just leave. Cristo, young people nowadays.”
Giuliano wisely refrained from commenting, possibly after Lorenzo viciously kicked him in the ankle as he opened his mouth again, until they were another street away and squinting at the thoroughfares. This wasn't an area of Firenze that Lorenzo recognised on sight.
“We're lost,” Giuliano said primly, after another turn down a random street. “This is why I wanted to use the roof.”
“Be silent,” Lorenzo growled, glancing up, then he paused as he noticed a cage of pigeons, set up in a nook atop a second storey of a house, ahead of them at a corner. Could that be...?
“Now you see my point.” Giuliano said, as they clambered undoubtedly noisily up a stack of crates and over a sill to the cage, then he frowned. “Lorenzo, what are you doing?”