They rose with the sun or at least most of them did. He noticed a couple of men laying about on their bedrolls still dead asleep and stepped over them. The barracks where they would be staying until they got their own rooms ideally stood in the midst of the Castello district with the personal guards of the Barbagio staying in the lower bowels of the Castello. I hope they do not intend to make me one of those. If they are targets of the assassino I want nothing to do with them. Halfway through the thought he realized he had started to regard the assassin as real though he knew nothing in particular about him. Back in Florence they had said he was the son of a banker who had been killed but those were likely just stories for minstrels to write stupid songs about.
After using the bathroom he donned his uniform; a long sleeved shirt with green and black stripes, a pair of heavy pants and leather armour, on his head he placed a green beret. He looked utterly stupid. His own mother would have laughed. After glancing at the others though he didn't feel so bad. Besides, he was there to do a job not look like the subject for a painting. Also he didn't want to preen too much lest he hear more calls of “Florentiiine”. It began to get out of hand when they all refused to sleep near me. And it is all that bastardo's fault.
Again the sun sat high in the sky and he wanted to complain to someone about it however seeing as the others gave him a wide berth other than when they wanted to get close for the laughs he kept his mouth shut. It felt like childhood all over again. The taunts, the desire to duel just about everyone around him and the lack of a backbone to actually do anything about it. God, maybe he should have just given up and apprenticed to some old man back in his youth and learned to do something useful like painting or carving or making armour for idiots like the ones he currently lived and worked with. Their leader for the most part seemed to play the part of ass kisser to anyone of higher rank than himself rather than mediator and 10 minutes into their training Antonio already felt boredom taking hold. Why hadn't he just gotten married to some farm girl and become a farmer? Twenty already and without a wife-there had to be something wrong with him. He sincerely hoped the other men were bachelors as well. If a woman can put up with them then why not me? My mother will not wait much longer for children and I am tired of giving her excuses. He thought of her lined face and how her hair had gone grey and the smile that she gave when he so much as looked at a woman. ...My own mother thinks I am...
“Stop thinking of men and hurry up!” olive spitter called back to him from the back of the pack and Antonio jumped forward into the ring.
Despite never having held a sword for longer than twenty minutes in his life he managed to not be killed by the perhaps slightly overzealous arms master who looked close to death himself with scars covering his face. The grizzled man helped him to his feet after he fell flat on his back for the 3rd time and proposed that perhaps he should look into using a spear because anyone who got close to him would be sure to kill him with such mediocre skills as he possessed. Antonio became certain that all of Venezia hated him and wished to see him dead and he doubted anyone could convince him otherwise.
The rest of the day went much like how the first had-slowly with random outbursts of fighting though he managed to stay out of it. His life in Venice was sure to be as interesting as the one he had led back in Florence and he almost wished he could be as stupid as the others. They at least appear to be having some sort of fun even if it is because they have something wrong with their heads.
“There something wrong with you?”
--
Guess which kind of guard Antonio's nemesis is. ; D Ha ha
Re: It's guard love 2/??
After using the bathroom he donned his uniform; a long sleeved shirt with green and black stripes, a pair of heavy pants and leather armour, on his head he placed a green beret. He looked utterly stupid. His own mother would have laughed. After glancing at the others though he didn't feel so bad. Besides, he was there to do a job not look like the subject for a painting. Also he didn't want to preen too much lest he hear more calls of “Florentiiine”. It began to get out of hand when they all refused to sleep near me. And it is all that bastardo's fault.
Again the sun sat high in the sky and he wanted to complain to someone about it however seeing as the others gave him a wide berth other than when they wanted to get close for the laughs he kept his mouth shut. It felt like childhood all over again. The taunts, the desire to duel just about everyone around him and the lack of a backbone to actually do anything about it. God, maybe he should have just given up and apprenticed to some old man back in his youth and learned to do something useful like painting or carving or making armour for idiots like the ones he currently lived and worked with. Their leader for the most part seemed to play the part of ass kisser to anyone of higher rank than himself rather than mediator and 10 minutes into their training Antonio already felt boredom taking hold. Why hadn't he just gotten married to some farm girl and become a farmer? Twenty already and without a wife-there had to be something wrong with him. He sincerely hoped the other men were bachelors as well. If a woman can put up with them then why not me? My mother will not wait much longer for children and I am tired of giving her excuses. He thought of her lined face and how her hair had gone grey and the smile that she gave when he so much as looked at a woman. ...My own mother thinks I am...
“Stop thinking of men and hurry up!” olive spitter called back to him from the back of the pack and Antonio jumped forward into the ring.
Despite never having held a sword for longer than twenty minutes in his life he managed to not be killed by the perhaps slightly overzealous arms master who looked close to death himself with scars covering his face. The grizzled man helped him to his feet after he fell flat on his back for the 3rd time and proposed that perhaps he should look into using a spear because anyone who got close to him would be sure to kill him with such mediocre skills as he possessed. Antonio became certain that all of Venezia hated him and wished to see him dead and he doubted anyone could convince him otherwise.
The rest of the day went much like how the first had-slowly with random outbursts of fighting though he managed to stay out of it. His life in Venice was sure to be as interesting as the one he had led back in Florence and he almost wished he could be as stupid as the others. They at least appear to be having some sort of fun even if it is because they have something wrong with their heads.
“There something wrong with you?”
--
Guess which kind of guard Antonio's nemesis is. ; D Ha ha