The sun was high and Antonio cursed at it-the heat he could handle but the sun, the mutinous sun made him growl at it with irritation. And it smelled. He could say with confidence that he had never smelled something as awful as Venice's canals, wealthy and peaceful as the city was. It made him gag whenever he had to pass over a bridge but at the very least he could hide his reaction from his teammates for the most part when they weren't complaining themselves about the stench.
“If people would stop dumping their shit into the canals it would stink less,” another militia muttered to himself.
“If you would all shut up it would feel less shitty to be here,” yet another said over his shoulder.
“Engage in your games all you like, bastardo, but it will not help anyone,” the first shoved the man in front of him and Antonio wondered who had thought that it would be a good idea to travel in such a tight pack in a hot and smelly place as Venice.
Before a fight had a chance to break out their leader grabbed them both and smacked their heads together, “stai zitto, stronzi. May that knock some sense into your senseless heads.”
The two stumbled back, clutching their foreheads and yelling swears at their leader. Antonio wondered where they had gotten the coglione to take a tone with a higher ranking man but he said nothing, resisting the urge to wring his hands. He had heard the stories of what they did to men who spoke out of turn and he had no interest in being killed. Especially not by some sort of lottery system. We are more likely to kill each other than to be murdered by any assassin. That has to be a tale someone has made up and even if it were not he is not here anyway. Regardless, he did not expect to be spending much time alone-it is better to be safe rather than sorry even if these idiots are more liability than ally.
They followed a patrol route outlined by the head of the militia that took them through the Castello district and to the outskirts of San Marco then back again as if any of the men in the group would be completing the entire trip every day. Within twenty minutes I saw two guards lounging on benches and talking to the courtesans. To say Venice was not what he had been expecting would be an understatement. But he would be paid and provided with a place to sleep so he could find no true faults with working in the city; peaceful or not.
~~**~~
Eating should have been a peaceful experience. Should have been. Is not. The other men had taken to throwing scraps of food at each other like children to stealing each others' toys. He thought it had ended when an olive pit smacked him in the side of the face. It had spit on it and clung wetly to his face for a moment before falling to the table. He opened his mouth to yell for the culprit to show himself but the man in question removed the need for such things after proudly crowing that the hit had counted as 100 points.
Then he nodded at Antonio with a stupid smirk, “you are from Florence?”
“And what if I am, stronzo?”
The man popped another olive into his mouth and elbowed the man in the seat next to him, “told you.”
If he hadn't made a promise to himself that he wouldn't get himself killed he would have fought him in an instant but as it stood he had made that promise and so stayed firmly rooted to his chair. His mouth on the other hand remained willing to argue even if he couldn't physically fight. “What do you have against Florence?”
“Nothing,” a light shrug, “you just seem Florentine.”
I can see my thoughts are wasted on him. I doubt he has any of his own to begin with. With that he went back to eating even despite the bastard continuing to spit his pits at him. If one of us has to be killed as an example, God, make it him.
--
In case you didn't catch it olive spitting man was making a gay joke because Florence is super gay. Antonio actually DOES come from Florence though. XDD I'll try to update this twice a day when I can because as it stands now nobody will be making out in alleys for awhile and I don't want you to have to wait too long for the gay, OP! ; D ()
It's guard love 1/??
“If people would stop dumping their shit into the canals it would stink less,” another militia muttered to himself.
“If you would all shut up it would feel less shitty to be here,” yet another said over his shoulder.
“Engage in your games all you like, bastardo, but it will not help anyone,” the first shoved the man in front of him and Antonio wondered who had thought that it would be a good idea to travel in such a tight pack in a hot and smelly place as Venice.
Before a fight had a chance to break out their leader grabbed them both and smacked their heads together, “stai zitto, stronzi. May that knock some sense into your senseless heads.”
The two stumbled back, clutching their foreheads and yelling swears at their leader. Antonio wondered where they had gotten the coglione to take a tone with a higher ranking man but he said nothing, resisting the urge to wring his hands. He had heard the stories of what they did to men who spoke out of turn and he had no interest in being killed. Especially not by some sort of lottery system. We are more likely to kill each other than to be murdered by any assassin. That has to be a tale someone has made up and even if it were not he is not here anyway. Regardless, he did not expect to be spending much time alone-it is better to be safe rather than sorry even if these idiots are more liability than ally.
They followed a patrol route outlined by the head of the militia that took them through the Castello district and to the outskirts of San Marco then back again as if any of the men in the group would be completing the entire trip every day. Within twenty minutes I saw two guards lounging on benches and talking to the courtesans. To say Venice was not what he had been expecting would be an understatement. But he would be paid and provided with a place to sleep so he could find no true faults with working in the city; peaceful or not.
~~**~~
Eating should have been a peaceful experience. Should have been. Is not. The other men had taken to throwing scraps of food at each other like children to stealing each others' toys. He thought it had ended when an olive pit smacked him in the side of the face. It had spit on it and clung wetly to his face for a moment before falling to the table. He opened his mouth to yell for the culprit to show himself but the man in question removed the need for such things after proudly crowing that the hit had counted as 100 points.
Then he nodded at Antonio with a stupid smirk, “you are from Florence?”
“And what if I am, stronzo?”
The man popped another olive into his mouth and elbowed the man in the seat next to him, “told you.”
If he hadn't made a promise to himself that he wouldn't get himself killed he would have fought him in an instant but as it stood he had made that promise and so stayed firmly rooted to his chair. His mouth on the other hand remained willing to argue even if he couldn't physically fight. “What do you have against Florence?”
“Nothing,” a light shrug, “you just seem Florentine.”
I can see my thoughts are wasted on him. I doubt he has any of his own to begin with. With that he went back to eating even despite the bastard continuing to spit his pits at him. If one of us has to be killed as an example, God, make it him.
--
In case you didn't catch it olive spitting man was making a gay joke because Florence is super gay. Antonio actually DOES come from Florence though. XDD I'll try to update this twice a day when I can because as it stands now nobody will be making out in alleys for awhile and I don't want you to have to wait too long for the gay, OP! ; D ()