• We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Hi Valdemar

Just read up on this one. Really impressive stuff, you can just feel the tension in the council. Well done. :)
 
A good example of that old Byzantine saying, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

Not a Byzantine saying, you protest? Only because true Byzantines have no friends. :D
 
First off all, thanks to all of you for the feedback.:)

I'm still blushing when you "praise" my writing, I still think of ot as workman like compared to others on this board.

When that is said I too find it has changed a lot since my first FC post :D

Norgs, thanks again, For some reason I often find it easier to write the dialogue than the describtions *shrugs*

Storey, I nkow exactly what you mean, I use Word as well, partly becuase I'm writing at work, partly because of the spell checker, I also use the grammar thingie, though I often not agree with it, but it helps me catch those Thier/there where/were things. :D

stnylan, glad to see you here as well, thanks for stopping by.

Director, what's there to say, I simply apply the office politics from my workday :rolleyes: :rolleyes: :p

V
 
Originally posted by Valdemar
First off all, thanks to all of you for the feedback.:)

I'm still blushing when you "praise" my writing, I still think of ot as workman like compared to others on this board.

When that is said I too find it has changed a lot since my first FC post :D

Now, don't sell yourself under worth. Even though we are usually our worst critcs trust the judgment of the people on this board. :)
 
Re: Chapter One, part XI

Originally posted by Valdemar
Svend’s last thought before he left the Palace was to his wife and what she would think of her husband playing politics like this.

Well, politics is generally the ultimate pragmatist's game, where every compromise goes as long as it doesn't effect your own goals. It's sad to see the good Sven falling down that trap :D !
Well done, Valdemar. Although Dimitrios being more of (or at least as much) a politician than a priest should actually help the delegation : the Venetians have never been very much religious-minded as long as it help them fill their coffers in RL and both they and the other italian city-states (notably their great rival Genoa) have been largely responsible in the decline of the Empire. It would only be fair if they now helped it survive if not revive.
 
Originally posted by Valdemar

When that is said I too find it has changed a lot since my first FC post :D


V

LD gets another dollar. :D

Joe
 
Chapter One, part XII

It was late morning at the house of the Captain of the guard. Everybody had been up and about since the early dawn, but now everything was in place and an impatient mood hung over the house.

It was the last day at home for Arn and Sif. The delegation was finally leaving for Venice and suddenly the day that the young couple should leave the city for the first time was drawing near.

Sofia stood in the middle of the sun-drenched courtyard, for a moment alone amongst all the luggage. Arn and his wife had gone off to say goodbye to some friends, all the luggage was accounted for and it only waited for the hired men to haul it down to the docks and her husband was of to a last minute meeting with Stefanos to get the last details in order.

She sat down on one of the traveling chests and thought back on these last few weeks. They seemed to have gone by in a blur, all those changes in such a short time. Since the day her husband had decided to meddle in the internal politics of the Council things had been happening almost too fast for her comfort.
She sighed, perhaps she was getting old, she was the daughter of a Councilor herself and it was she who had coach her husband out of his military life and into his current position, she should have been used to it. The funny thing was that her husband seemed to enjoy the change; perhaps he had been getting bored in the current command, nothing much had happened in the world around the Guard since he assumed command.
Either way, Svend was now central to the work around the delegation, suggesting delegates, planning tactics and helping secure contacts in the city for the members to use in Venice.

It was here Svend found her sometime later when he returned from the last preparations. How does she keep on making my heart beat like that every time I enter the room? I wonder how she really feels about all of this; we haven’t had a chance to talk properly in weeks. I know she is going to miss Arn and Sif.

Sofia was still lost in thoughts and hadn’t noticed her husband, Svend stood for a while looking at her, thinking back over the last couple of weeks him self. After the cataclysmic Council meeting where he together with Stefanos had usurped the power over the delegation they had spend a couple of hours trying to make a list of potential candidates. They had to bear in mind that with Dimitrios along, they also had to plan for more than the Venetians to oppose them.

Finally they had agreed on a short list, but as with all such plans they had to plan for changes and then the real work had begun. They had to convince otherwise successful and active members of the city to give up their occupation for a period and join the delegation. In the end they had committed the final list to the Council and after a short debate it was approved. Svend didn’t know all the people on that list, but he figured that between them, he and Stefanos had done a good job. His biggest disappointment had been the Harbor Master, he had refused to be persuaded and in the end they had to let him go.

The quartermaster on the other hand had proven to a perfect choice. After the initial discussion, Stefanos and Svend had agreed to make him an offer to become chief supply officer and responsible for the creature comfort on this trip. This had so far been a great success, in no time he had secured transportation, created initial contacts to go on ahead to Venice and ensure lodgings and had procured all sorts of supplies and goods.

The rest of the delegation was a hodgepodge of different interests, a few army men, all some that Svend had at least a working relationship with, a merchant from the Italian trade and an official from that part of the Emperors administration, both vetted by Sif’s father as reasonably sound and fair. And finally a couple of priests, courtesy of his holiness the Patriarch and off course selected by Dimitrios. Svend had asked around and while one of the priests obviously was a man of Dimitrios’ caliber, then the other was perhaps more a genuine man of the cloth, providing the delegation with a true possibility of spiritual relief.

Finally came the true meat of the delegation, the diplomats and the intelligence. Here Stefanos had ruled supreme and Svend had no option but to trust the foreign advisors choice on the subject. The fact that the Captain of the Guard had heard nothing of the selected members beforehand was perhaps a testament to both their professional abilities and to their lack of political aspirations. He had faith in the diplomatic part of that group, Stefanos had after all been a carrier diplomat, but of the intelligence part he knew nothing. He had met with the head thief, or so he thought of him, the man off course didn’t call himself that, and that had been a favorable experience. The fellow had been younger than Svend had expected and very nondescript, sort of the fellow you could pass on a street and not remember a moment later. Probably a very nice ability in his line of work, Svend mused with a smile.

Sofia looked up and saw her husband standing in the doorway looking at her lost in thoughts. I wonder what’s on his mind?

“What are you thinking?”

“Oh, nothing specific, just looking back at the last few weeks. It’s been a bit hectic.”

“Yes, and now they are leaving.”

“I’m going to miss them too.”

She smiled at him, “It will be good nonetheless for both of them to get away from this city and I’m sure Stefanos will take good care of them?”

“Of course he will, if not then Sif’s connection will take care of that.”

“Hmm,” she rose and walked over to him, “when do they leave?”

He gently put his arms around her, “around sundown, I think, with the tide.”

They stood for a moment like that, lost in their own thoughts, then the real world came crashing in on them as both Arn and Sif and the rest of the family returned home.

*****

The family had said their goodbyes at home and now they all stood on the dock watching as the delegation members boarded the ship. As the intelligence officer that Svend had talked to earlier boarded he looked at Arn and Sif standing a few feet away and nodded to Svend. The Captain got a distinct impression that some sort of deal had been struck and that the agent, Benedict, had agreed to watch over the young couple.

Svend, after a brief moment of contemplation nodded in return. What a strange man, I wonder what he expects of me? Svend shrugged, he would find out when they returned.

Then he shook hands with Stefanos, “to success.”

“To success,” The foreign advisor boarded the ship.

Most of the members had boarded now and Svend grabbed his son’s arm and pulled him out of earshot.

“Arn, be careful when you get there, not everybody is what they seem.”

“Father, you already told me so, who was that man you just greeted?”

“He is on the delegation, you don’t need to know, but he is one of those that are more than they seem.”

“I see.”

“I pulled you aside for something else,” he handed his son a sealed letter. “Give this to the man written on the front. He is a soldier, he may not be in Venice when you arrive, but at that address they will know how to contact him.”

“Who is he father?”

“He is a condottiere, the content in that letter only confirms who you are and that I send you. I met him years ago and that’s a story that will have to wait. I need you to ask him a favor for me.”

Arn looked intrigued at his father, this was very unusual.

“I want you to ask him to send some men here.”

“We have an army, what can a few Italians do?”

“Not like that, we need to train a new army and for that we need more than the existing way of doing things. Tell him to send a few experienced drill sergeants and a few officers versed in infantry tactics, he’ll know what I mean. Oh and don’t tell anyone, except perhaps your wife.” Svend smiled as he said the last part and Arn grinned back and looked affectionately at his wife, waiting for him by the boarding plank.

“I will do as you ask, I will send a message with the next ship once I’ve made contact. Apple for success Pear for failure and cherries if I have nothing to report.”

Svend grinned at his son and quickly embraced him. Then the couple boarded the ship as the last and the Captain started giving orders to the crew. Soon the ship moved away from the dock to join the two galleys that where to escort them to Venice.

As the three ships pulled away, Svend stood alone with his wife and looked after them until they cleared the harbor and disappeared out of sight.
 
And so the adventure begins. Now you’ve done it. :eek: You’ve got two stories going at the same time with the trip and the politics back at home. It’s going to get very complicated I think. Well done Valdemar !

Joe
 
Anchors aweigh! A fine sendoff.

For myself, you've hit the right line between too much detail and not enough. I feel like I know most of what's going on, while still being intrigued at the things I see moving in the shadows.

Well done, sir!
 
Thanks all for reading :) This was the last part of Chapter One, there will be one or two short interludes then we'll jump to Veince.

TF, Thanks, Svend doesn't see this as a pragmatic game, he is a politician borne out of need and love of the nation and is afraid that he will be sucked into exactly what you describe.

Storey, Yes I know, I hope I can keep them apart, I *think* the politics will be in Venice for the next part, but who knows:)

Director, I'm trying very hard to hit that exact effect, glad you like it. I have to have certain things included to further the plot, but on the other hand I prefer to lie to you in order to keep the suspense, not so easy :p

As to the detail, I kind of like to put the domestic touch on things rather than pure story, but it will come and go, not all plotparts are good for this and it is a fine line before I bore myself as well as the reader. :D

V
 
Ah, an honest politician concerned with his country's welfare ! A rare bird indeed then our friend Sven ! You almost got me worried there :D .

I like the way you make you main character look human with your "domestic touch" too.
 
Interlude 1

Arn was standing at the bow of the ship looking into the foaming sea. They had had good wind and were already far into the Aegean, he looked over the side and saw Dolphins playing, despite a whole life spend in a city by the sea, he had never seen dolphins before.

“They are fascinating creatures, aren’t they?”

Startled Arn spun around only to find the man he knew as Benedict sitting on the deck his back leaned against the pile of robe for the anchor.

“Oh, Benedict, sir, I didn’t notice you,” Arn turned and started to leave, thinking the man wanted solitude.

Benedict softly spoken voice only carried far enough to reach Arn, “turn back, young man, look at the dolphins, I think nobody is aware I’m sitting here and I’d like a quite word with you.”

As Arn turned back towards the railing he shot a fleeting glance back over his shoulder. Benedict was right, nobody looked in his direction and the older man was almost hidden behind the rope. He leaned over the edge near Benedict and pretended to follow the play of the dolphins as they skimmed the waves.

“Your father is playing a dangerous game, getting involved in the Council politics.”

Arn didn’t respond, he didn’t know how much the man knew or how much of his father’s resent activities he him self was supposed to know about. Besides, his father had warned him to be careful, that not everybody was what they pretended to be. The warning had come when Arn had asked about Benedict and he was unsure whether the advice had been directed at him specifically or in general. The silence dragged on and Arn refused to commit him self.

“You refuse to comment? Wisely, your father taught you well.” The voice was low and reasonable, not a hint of threat or malice. From the few days Arn had spent together with him on board the ship he seemed like a pleasant man.

“I don’t know for sure what instructions your father gave you on the docks, or what that letter contained, but my advice is to keep it close. Not everybody would like your father to succeed in whatever venture his is at after the last Council meetings.”

Arn shivered despite the sun, this man was well informed and Arn felt completely unprepared for this conversation. Surely Benedict wasn’t a trade advisor or diplomat like he pretended. Still he refused to answer the man, what should he say? Nothing he could think of would defuse the situation without compromising him further.

“I mean you no harm, Arn, I’m compromising myself simply by speaking to you. Within minutes you will guess my real role here. I’m allying myself to your father because he is doing the right thing. That was what I tried to imply on that dock, and your father carelessly accepted without knowing what I want. But, nevertheless I have taken it upon my self to help you out. “

Finally Arn found the words he was looking for. “What ever your intentions sir, I’m sure you can understand why I cannot answer any of your speculations. My wife and I are on this trip as part of the delegation, as a minor aid if you will. Truly my father has used his influence to get us on this trip, but we will help where we can.” Arn hoped that by downplaying his role and pretending that this was merely a disguised pleasure trip provided by the misuse of his father’s influence he could get Benedict to disregard him.

“Call me Benedict,” Arn could hear the smile in his voice, “I think it was both wisely and stupid at the same time for your father to entrust you with whatever message he send, but I will aid you in any way I can.”

Arn didn’t answer and as the silence dragged on he finally turned, only to discover that he was all alone on this part of the deck. As he slowly drifted back toward the rest of the delegation sprawling under a sun sail he mulled the conversation over in his mind. If the conversation was anything to go by, then this man was no diplomat, then he was some kind of spy. Unless off course it was all a hoax to get him to tell tales about his father. If the man was a spy, he was most likely aboard to provide intelligence to Stefanos or as a liaison with what ever connections the Emperor’s spies had in Venice. He shrugged; he would have to see if he could get confirmation from Stefanos, one way or the other.
 
Ach! Not even on a Mediterranen Cruise can one get away from politics these days, got to watch your back wherever one goes.. :)

I've been catching up with your story and what can I say... bloody brilliant! Your characters are so nicely fleshed out and very believeable! I look forward to see how the Delegation fares in Venice!

JavJ
 
I feel really sorry for Arn. There he is, all ready to have a great time in Venice and someone has to go an remind him of realities.

Great post V, keep it coming. :)
 
Originally posted by Jarlen av Juks
Ach! Not even on a Mediterranen Cruise can one get away from politics these days, got to watch your back wherever one goes.. :)

Well, the German government was on a cruise in Norway when World War 1 was close to breaking out, so it's not unlikely! ;)

Great work, Vald, I really liked this interlude. :)
 
Interlude 2

Sif was up early that morning, in fact nobody was on the deck except for the watch crew. Arn had been very quite last evening during the usual dinner with the other delegates and the ships officers, but he had not told her why until they had retired to the privacy of their cabin. Then he had told her all that had happened, on the dock the day the departed on earlier that day on the foredeck of the ship.

She had brushed of his anxieties at first and agreed that he should talk to Stefanos whenever he got a chance. Later however, when Arn had fallen into an exhausted slumber, she had been unable to fall asleep herself, despite the late hour. Now, several hours later she had decided to get up on the deck to see the sun come up over the sea and clear her thoughts.

Being brought up in her father’s merchant house as one of two girls both she and her sister had been closer to the business than was customary for girls in the city. She therefore felt she was better prepared and perhaps more experienced in dealing with the duplicity of complex and long negotiations. She had not been prepared to anything like this. Her father’s business may have been complex and the motivation of his different partners and contacts may have been hidden and misleading, but still it had mostly been for personal gain of the more tangible kind, wealth, gold and influence to create more of both.

What Arn was suddenly experiencing tested the limits of her experience. She had no clear picture of this man, Benedict, and she had a very keen feeling that this was but the beginning. Once they reached Venice the whole game would tilt again and new dimensions and players would appear. Heeding both her fathers parting advice and trusting her own instincts she was acutely aware that Benedict was properly not the only man aboard with hidden agendas, the bishop Dimitrios, while pleasant enough towards the young couple, was most likely a man to watch.

She slowly crossed the deck moving under the huge sail to stand by the railing in the first light of the sun. She didn’t know what to do, she would need to talk to this man, Benedict and then see what her instincts told her. She had always trusted her instincts when it came to that. They couldn’t tell her what the truth was, but often they told her if somebody was not telling the truth and so far they had been able to warn her if somebody could be trusted. She shrugged, shivering a little in the cool morning breeze. Tonight there was another dinner; she would ask the Captain if she could be seated next to Benedict, but before that, she and Arn needed to talk privately with the head of the delegation. She had the feeling it would be an interesting day.

Having made up her mind, Sif suddenly felt sleepy, she retraced her steps and once back in the cabin undressed and cuddled up to the sleeping Arn to get warm again. Her husband grumbled something in his sleep but didn’t complain when she pressed her naked body closer to his. Lying like that, she fell asleep.

She woke hours later only to find she was all alone in the tiny cabin. She laid for a while completely still feeling slightly disoriented. Then slowly she remembered where she was and looking at the light playing across the ceiling she guessed the hour to be nearing noon. She didn’t rise immediately, but thought back to the early morning. Going through it all again while she listened to the faint noise of the sailors and the delegation’s idle conversation drifting through the small open porthole, she found that her earlier decisions still was sound advice.

Just as she was about to rise out of bed, she heard footsteps outside the door. She quickly lay back in bed, placed the covers just so and closed her eyes. The footsteps stopped right outside the cabin and she could hear the door slowly and carefully open. Who ever it was took one step inside and closed the door. For a long moment there was no sound. Then there was a rustling of clothes and she smiled.

As the young couple reemerged onto the deck an hour later the crew was arranging the noon meal under the sun sail. Most of the delegation was gathered under the cover, out of reach of the hot sun here in the middle of the sea, making small talk and generally getting in the way of the servants.

The meal started very much to Sif’s satisfaction, almost as if he had read her mind; Benedict seated himself next to her and started a polite conversation. During the course of the meal, she tried very hard to get a mental image of the man, but besides his polite facade she was unable to find out more about him.

She looked across the table to her husband, seated next to the Bishop. Arn had told her to be wary of the man and from the few encounters she had had with him she felt that he was right. Her instincts told her to be wary. So far her, however the Cleric had been very subdued and not acted very much like a self-important member of the Council. She shrugged; perhaps he didn’t like to travel by sea.

As the meal progressed she felt she was getting more confused and finding more questions than answers, but in the end she had to conclude that her vaunted intuition told her she could trust Benedict for now, but deep down she was very uncertain if her intuition could be trusted. It was as if this man was able to mold her reactions into exactly the responses he wished. As if he could change his own personality so perfectly that even the miniscule signs she usually based her instinctive evaluations on was gone, or perhaps erased.

In the early afternoon, a few hours after the lunch, the wind started picking up and while the sun was still shining most of the delegation withdrew to their cabins. Stefanos and the young couple stayed on the deck watching the crew prepare the ship to tougher weather. So far the Captain looked calm, but with all the dignitaries onboard he had to be cautious, he signaled the two accompanying vessels and the formation spread out to avoid accidental ramming. Then he trimmed the main sail and the crew started securing whatever loose goods and open hatches there was. The foreign advisor was used to this and was standing on the aft deck explaining what was going on to Arn and Sif. When Stefanos turned to point out a maneuver to get a more even course on the growing waves, he casually lowered his voice.

“Anything in particular you two wanted to talk to me about?” He was still pointing out things on the deck and to the casual observer it looked like he was still explaining the finer point of sailing.

Arn tried very hard not to look surprised, how did the diplomat know? “Well, father said to trust you. I had a strange conversation yesterday with Benedict.”

“Yes, he hinted that, anything particular you wanted to ask?”

“Well, yes,” Arn searched for the words, but Sif, getting cold in the strong wind cut in, “Yes, who is he really? And can we trust him?”

“Who he is? And can you trust him?” Stefanos chewed on the questions as if he wasn’t certain how to address them. Arn decided to help him along.

“I saw him greet father on the dock, but father wouldn’t tell me who he was. Then yesterday he said he had made a deal with father about helping me and Sif.”

“Did he now? A deal with Svend?” Stefanos smiled, but neither of the young couple could guess at what.

The diplomat shook his head, “well I guess you have surmised as much, but I can tell you he is representing the Emperor’s intelligence service in the delegation. But aside from that I don’t know how much to tell you.” His voice drifted of as if he was thinking about something else. He looked back at the couple, “well it suffice to say that you can trust him. Whatever compelled him to make the offer I cannot say, but he will not negate on his word. You will know in time if this changes and I shall bear it in mind and tell you if I think there is reason to change this assumption.”

Arn nodded, but somehow felt cheated out of something, there obviously was more to this. Still he had gotten what he asked for, a confirmation that Benedict was on his side. For the moment, there was always the possibility of change.

As the wind increased, clouds started covering up the sun and the trio withdrew to the cabins. Throughout the night the winds continued blow and a few rainsqualls hit the small squadron, but somehow the storm never gained momentum and as the new day dawned sunny and bright the delegation turned north for the long stretch up to Venice.
 
Nice update.

The surprise in Venice... could it have to do with Benedict? ;)
 
Chapter Two, Part One

Venice

Arn and Sif stood at the front of the group in the fore of the ship as they neared Venice. It was a sight almost to rival their home city. Venice rose out of the lagoon shrouded in mist in the early light as the three Byzantine ships slowly made their way past the outer islands and sand banks into the inner Lagoon. The Domes of the St. Markus Basilica and several other churches and palaces rose out of the mist and seemed for a moment to waver and float on the clouds.

No sooner did they enter the calm waters of the bay before the got company of two imposing Venetian galleys, one coming from the city, obviously alerted by some means from the islands and one coming up from behind, probably having followed them in from the Adriatic. The trio slowed and unfurled the Imperial standard and a series of signals and commands was exchanged between the ships resulting in the two Greek escorts politely but firmly being directed to the naval yard on a nearby island and the ship carrying the delegation was escorted to the main city.

As they approached the city the sun had risen further into the sky and the mist that had covered the city when they first arrived had begun to lift, revealing a most spectacular sight. Numerous small boats where dating across the still morning waters surrounding the city scuttling to and fro a number of small openings in what had at first appeared to be a solid front of buildings. For every moment that passed the city seemed to slowly open up on it self, revealing more and more detail. Here was a church, here a merchant’s stately home, over there some sort of factory on a small bank.

Then the small convoy turned around the outer edges and the whole city opened up upon the Grand Canal. Sif couldn’t hold back a small exclamation when she saw the wide canal opening up the city. The ships however turned away from the site and proceeded to a landing suitable for seafaring galleys.

After a few hours waiting the delegation could once again head down the canal in stately gondolas with a small flotilla of minor crafts carrying luggage and servants in their wake. The gondolas slowly meandered down the central canal until Hector, the former quartermaster shouted and pointed towards the shore. Looking ahead Arn saw that one of the stately palaces was sporting the Imperial Flag. Hector leaned over,

“That’s the palace I’ve rented for the delegation, the embassy and the ambassador’s residence is right behind it on a small square.”

Sif smiled with wonder in her eyes, “It’s wonderful Hector.”

“I’m sorry milady, but I think you and your husband will be getting quarters at the embassy or at the residence. The main delegation and their servants will be housed at the palace.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Hector,” she placed her hand on his arm, “I’m sure you have provided excellently for us.”

The gondolas slowly turned in a wide curve, crossing the canal and headed for the landing. Standing near the water’s edge was a lone figure that Arn guessed would be the ambassador.

The delegation docked first, while the transports that carried their worldly goods and servants, hovered on the edge of the canal, much to the chagrin of the ordinary boatmen. Stefanos alighted first and went straight ahead, without waiting for the rest of the delegation, to greet the man waiting,

“Gregorio, it has been far to long.”

“Stefanos, yes indeed, I only wish that it was a nicer occasion that brought you here.”

“Let me introduce you to the delegation” Stefanos turned and presented everybody to the ambassador.

Sif and Arn were walking in the back of the group as they walked up the steps to the palace. “He seemed like a nice man,” her husband only nodded trying to take in the magnificent hall as they entered through the double doors. The room stretched up two stories and above the double doors was a set of huge windows letting in plenty of light that spilled on the marble floor. As the delegation spread out he saw that several beautiful ornate doors led to various rooms and in the center, opposite the doors to the canal was a huge curved staircase.

On the bottom step stood a small Italian looking man, dressed in rich robes, smiling a benevolent smile. Benedict leaned closer to the couple and mumbled.

“That’s Silvio Petrini, the Doge’s lackey, be careful around him.”

The man in question stepped down and greeted Stefanos, “So we meet again, signore, it must be two years since I last visited your fair city.”

“Indeed, I’m glad to be able to visit yours this time, Petrini.”

“Call me Silvio, my dear friend, call me Silvio.”

Introductions were made all around, but when the Venetian came to Sif he bowed and took her hand. “A signora, how lovely to have one present of the fair sex, it is a refreshment from all these dull looking gentlemen.”

Sif merely smiled, but Arn could see that she had to work hard to refrain from a sharp retort. Once the Venetian had done his duty he withdrew citing official duty and the need of the delegation to get in order.

Gregorio, the ambassador made sure that everything was in place in the palace and then led the rest of the delegation through a series of rooms and out into a small secluded square enclosed by the palace on one side a few houses on the other two and a small canal and a bridge on the last one.

“This is the embassy and my residence.” The ambassador pointed to two houses on the one side. “They are connected with that small garden you can see behind the wall and a small portico goes through the garden connecting the buildings. I will house some of you in the embassy it self, and some in my residence.”

The small group nodded.

“Benedict, you will get you usual rooms in the embassy building and so will the you,” he looked at one of the priests. “The young couple will be housed in the guest suite in my residence and you sir,” he nodded at Hector, “will get a room at my house as well.”

The group split up and Arn and Sif followed Hector and the ambassador into the residence. Once there Gregorio turned them over to his servants and told them there would be a small informal dinner tonight and not to wander of into the city without an escort.

The servant led them up to two small adjoining rooms on the first floor, a small sitting room facing the square and small bedroom facing the garden. Once the servants had left the baggage Sif locked both doors and dropped backwards on the bed.

“So my dear husband, now it all truly begins.”