Sessio VI -- The Doctor Saves Someone

The narrow street is flanked by tall, looming buildings, casting long shadows in the early morning light. The air is thick with tension, and the arguing men now scrutinize Avicellus. The leader, with his piercing eyes and gruff voice, steps closer to the cart, eyeing the coffins warily. The other men, rough-looking and armed, stand ready, their eyes flicking between Avicellus and each other, clearly on edge.

Avicellus stands by his cart, maintaining his composed demeanor behind the protective cover of his plague doctor mask. The Raven Mask's subtle influence sharpens his senses, and he remains acutely aware of the situation's potential volatility.

After a brief pause, as they stare at him, Avicellus says in an impatient tone, "Well?"

The burly man with the thick beard, seemingly the leader of the group, steps forward, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinizes Avicellus. His expression is a mix of irritation and suspicion. He gestures to the other men, indicating for them to back off slightly, though they remain tense and alert.

“Well?” Avicellus repeats, adding a slight edge to his voice.

The leader's eyes flick between Avicellus and the cart. After a moment, he grunts and speaks, his voice rough but with a hint of begrudging respect, “We’ve no use for another fight today. What’s your business, doctor? And why are you meddling in ours?”

Behind him, the other men exchange uncertain glances. One of them, a wiry figure with a scar running down his cheek, whispers something to another, but they all stay back, watching the exchange.

Avicellus tilts his head slightly, the beak of his mask pointing directly at the leader. “I’m merely performing my duty, transporting the dead away from the city. The sooner I’m on my way, the better it is for everyone. Unless, of course, you have a death wish?” His tone carries a subtle challenge.

The leader grimaces, clearly weighing his options. He looks back at his men, then to the coffins in the cart. “We’re not looking for trouble with death, real or not,” he finally says, his tone begrudging. “Just…keep moving, doctor. This doesn’t concern you.”

Avicellus, without moving the cart, says, "As a doctor, if someone is about to be injured...or worse...it would seem to be my business indeed. Nothing like that is about to happen, is it, gentlemen?"

The leader of the group, taken aback by Avicellus’s boldness, pauses and then lets out a dry chuckle. His eyes narrow as he sizes up the masked doctor. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” he says, his voice gruff but now tinged with a grudging respect.

The tension among the men is palpable. They exchange glances, unsure how to proceed with this unexpected confrontation. The wiry man with the scar shifts uneasily, his hand twitching near the hilt of a dagger.

The leader, however, raises a hand, signaling his men to stay calm. “Listen, doc, we’re not looking to spill blood today. But you don’t know what you’re meddling in,” he says, lowering his voice slightly, almost as if sharing a secret. “We’ve got business to take care of, and it’s best you stay out of it.”

One of the other men, younger and less composed, mutters under his breath, “We don’t need no snooping doctor nosing around. Just let us be, or you’ll end up in one of those coffins yourself.”

The leader shoots him a sharp look, silencing him. He then turns back to Avicellus, his gaze hard. “We’re just moving some goods. A bit of a disagreement on the details, but nothing that concerns you. So, how about you be on your way, and we’ll be on ours?”

The other men are now on edge, their eyes darting between Avicellus and their leader, waiting to see how this will play out.

"If this is only a business dispute, perhaps it would be better if you continued your negotiations once your heads have cooled." Avicellus looks to the well-dressed man the other two are accosting and says, "Perhaps a little distance would be good for both parties, no? There's room enough for one more on the seat next to me."

The well-dressed man, a bead of sweat glistening on his brow, glances between Avicellus and the group of thugs. His eyes, wide with a mix of fear and desperation, lock onto the doctor's masked face. The possibility of a temporary escape, even amidst coffins, seems a welcome reprieve.

The leader of the group frowns deeply at Avicellus’s suggestion, his jaw tightening. “This doesn’t involve you,” he growls, stepping closer. The tension thickens as the men exchange wary glances, clearly weighing the risks of escalating the situation further.

The well-dressed man quickly seizes the opportunity, taking a tentative step towards Avicellus. “You’re right,” he stammers, his voice shaky but resolute. “We need time to reconsider our... negotiation. I’ll take your offer, doctor.”

The leader’s hand shoots out to grab the man’s arm, but the well-dressed man deftly pulls away, moving closer to the cart. The leader’s eyes flash with frustration, and he glances back at his companions, gauging their readiness for a confrontation.

Before he can react, Avicellus raises a calming hand. “There’s no need for violence here. If you let him leave with me, it shows good faith on your part. You can continue your business without shedding blood.”

The young man who had threatened Avicellus earlier mutters under his breath, “We should just take him and be done with it.” His fingers twitch near his weapon.

The scarred man, however, seems more cautious. He looks at the leader and says, “He’s right. We don’t need more trouble. Let him go. We can settle our score later.”

The leader hesitates, clearly torn. After a tense moment, he releases a slow breath, nodding curtly. “Fine,” he concedes, though his eyes remain hard. “But this isn’t over. We’ll find you again soon.”

The well-dressed man quickly climbs onto the seat next to Avicellus, visibly relieved. The thugs step back, their faces dark with anger but unwilling to push the matter further. The leader gives Avicellus one last glare before turning to his men, gesturing for them to move on.

As Avicellus starts to drive the cart away, he notices the leader’s eyes lingering on them, a silent promise of future reckoning. The group disperses into the shadows of the alley, leaving Avicellus and his new passenger to continue their journey.

Unfortunately, Avicellus must stay on his current route to fulfill his mission, but he keeps a wary eye behind him in case the men (or their friends) decide to follow or attack the cart. He is ready to cast web should that be the case. He quickens the pace of the animals pulling the cart and says to his new passenger, "So what did I just involve myself in?"

As the cart picks up speed, the well-dressed man adjusts himself on the seat, trying to catch his breath. He glances nervously over his shoulder, but the thugs are fading into the distance. Turning to Avicellus, he offers a shaky but appreciative nod.

“I owe you my thanks, doctor,” he begins, his voice still tinged with a mix of relief and anxiety. “My name is Giuliano Bardi. I’m a merchant, dealing mainly in spices and textiles.”

Giuliano takes a deep breath, clearly trying to steady his nerves. “Those men you saw... they work for the Pazzi family. The Pazzi and the Bardi families have been rivals for years, and tensions have been escalating lately. They were trying to strong-arm me into giving them a significant portion of my recent shipment — a shipment I’ve already sold to some of my best clients.”

He shakes his head, frustration evident in his eyes. “If I didn’t comply, they threatened to... well, let’s just say they would make my business and my life very difficult.”

As he speaks, Avicellus keeps a close watch on their surroundings, his eyes scanning for any signs of pursuit. The streets grow quieter as they leave the more crowded areas behind, but Avicellus’s vigilance doesn’t wane.

Giuliano sighs, rubbing his temples. “I’ve heard rumors that the Pazzi are getting more aggressive, trying to consolidate power and undermine their rivals. The Medicis are their biggest target, of course, but anyone not aligned with them is fair game.”

He looks at Avicellus with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude. “I’m not sure why you intervened, but I’m grateful. You may have just saved my life... or at least my livelihood.”

The cart continues to trundle along, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and wheels against cobblestones offering a backdrop to Giuliano’s words. The journey to Settignano remains their immediate priority, but Avicellus senses there might be more to this man’s story and the intricate web of Florentine politics than meets the eye.

Avicellus keeps a steady eye on the road ahead, his mind turning over Giuliano’s words. The merchant’s tale of being harassed by the Pazzi thugs piques his curiosity.

“Giuliano,” Avicellus begins, keeping his voice calm and measured, “I understand the risks of operating a business in Florence’s political climate, but your situation seems particularly precarious. What was it about this specific shipment that drew the Pazzi’s attention? Was there something unique about it?”

Giuliano sighs, clearly weary from the encounter but appreciative of the doctor’s interest. He adjusts his position on the cart’s seat, as if gathering his thoughts.

“It’s the contents of the shipment,” he explains. “The cargo consists of rare spices and high-quality textiles, which are always in demand. But this time, there’s something more... exotic. I managed to acquire a few items that were said to have mystical properties, artifacts from distant lands.”

He hesitates, glancing at Avicellus as if gauging how much he should reveal. “I’m not well-versed in the magical arts, but these items are rumored to hold great value. Some say they have the power to influence one’s fate or to bring prosperity to those who possess them. Such rumors have a way of attracting the wrong kind of attention.”

Avicellus’s interest is piqued further. The mention of mystical artifacts aligns with his own experiences and the nature of the journey he’s on with the precious cargo in the cart.

“Do you know where these artifacts came from?” Avicellus asks, steering the conversation to gather more precise information. “And why the Pazzi would be so eager to get their hands on them?”

Giuliano nods slowly. “They were acquired from a trader who brought them from the East, through Venice. Venice is a hub for such goods, as you might know. The trader claimed these items had connections to powerful mystical traditions, though I didn’t fully understand the details. I suspect the Pazzi saw an opportunity to leverage these artifacts for their own gain, whether through power or influence.”

He pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “As for why they targeted me... I suppose it’s because they see me as an easy mark. They think I can be intimidated or that my business can be exploited for their purposes. And with the Medicis otherwise occupied, the Pazzi are becoming bolder in their tactics.”

The mention of Venice and the Eastern trader resonates with Avicellus, reminding him of the origins of the artifacts he’s transporting. There’s a clear connection between these various threads of intrigue, and understanding Giuliano’s predicament might offer insights into the broader game at play.

"Yes," Avicellus says thoughtfully, "the Medici are certainly bullies and tyrants, but I fear that the Paizi and Bardi and other noble houses aren't much better. Would that we coudl loosen the Medici grip on Florence, but which figure would be an improvement? Which Paizi? Which Bardi?" Avicellus sighs in an exasperated way. He has an ulterior motive to his comment, however, as his passenger knows the Paizi and the Bardi more intimately, his answer might actually give Avicellus his first lead.

Giuliano seems to ponder Avicellus’s words, his expression shifting from relief to contemplation. The merchant appears to weigh his response carefully, perhaps aware that his answer could reveal much about the political landscape of Florence.

“It's true, the Medici have a heavy hand,” he begins, his voice low but clear. “But replacing one tyrant with another is hardly a solution. The Pazzi and the Bardi... they’re different breeds of the same beast. Each house has its ambitions, and none would shy away from seizing more power if given the chance.”

He glances at Avicellus, sensing the deeper intent behind his question. “If you’re asking about individuals within those families who might be... let’s say, less despotic, then I suppose there are a few. The Pazzi have a younger scion, Marco Pazzi. He’s not as ruthless as his elders, and some say he has a more progressive vision for Florence. But whether that’s enough to temper the family’s broader ambitions is uncertain.”

Giuliano shifts slightly in his seat, clearly choosing his words with care. “As for the Bardi, there’s Vittoria Bardi. She’s known for her intelligence and strategic mind. Unlike many of her family, she’s shown some inclination towards governance rather than brute force. Vittoria has spoken publicly about reforms and the welfare of the common people, though one never knows how much is genuine and how much is political posturing.”

He pauses, his gaze returning to the road ahead. “But in truth, Avicellus, even those who seem different might still be driven by the same hunger for power. The challenge is finding someone who can balance ambition with a genuine concern for Florence’s future. And that is no small feat.”

Avicellus nods, absorbing Giuliano’s insights. Marco Pazzi and Vittoria Bardi... two names that might represent something different in the turbulent seas of Florentine politics. Whether they could be allies in the struggle against Medici dominance, or merely pawns in a larger game, remains to be seen.

The cart continues its journey, the wheels creaking rhythmically against the cobblestones. The morning light grows stronger, and the streets begin to stir with early risers and market traders.

As they near a less populated stretch of road leading towards the outskirts of the city, Avicellus reflects on the complexities of Florence’s power struggles. His mission is clear, but the path to achieving it is fraught with uncertainty and danger.

"Those attracted to power tend to share certain...undesirable...characteristics. This Vittoria Bardi does sound different, though. Do you know her personally?"

Giuliano’s face softens slightly at the mention of Vittoria Bardi, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “I’ve had the opportunity to meet her a few times, in the course of my business dealings. She’s a rare presence in our city’s turbulent political sphere—sharp as a blade, yet unexpectedly compassionate.”

He pauses, choosing his words with care. “Vittoria often frequents the merchant gatherings and forums, not just to assert her family's interests but to genuinely understand the economic pulse of Florence. She’s not one to shy away from conversations with those outside her noble circle, which is quite unusual for someone of her stature.”

As they navigate through a narrower street, the cart’s wheels bouncing slightly on the uneven stones, Giuliano continues, “Her intelligence is evident in every word she speaks. She has a knack for seeing the broader picture, for understanding how the welfare of the common folk ties into the prosperity of the nobility. I’d say she’s more of a strategist than a politician, and perhaps that’s what sets her apart.”

Avicellus listens intently, weighing this new information. Vittoria Bardi could indeed be a potential ally, someone who might share a vision for a Florence less dominated by the overbearing presence of the Medici and their ilk. Her strategic mind and apparent empathy could be valuable assets in the delicate balance of power Avicellus seeks to navigate.

Giuliano’s voice lowers slightly, as if sharing a confidant’s secret. “There’s talk among the merchants that she’s been quietly building her own network of influence, separate from her family’s more overt operations. It’s not clear whether she’s positioning herself against the Medici directly or if she has a different game in mind, but she’s definitely someone worth watching.”

Avicellus nods thoughtfully, the wheels of his own mind turning. “It sounds like she might have more to offer than just another power grab. Perhaps I should seek an introduction.”

Giuliano raises an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. “Are you planning to get involved in these political tides, doctor? It’s a dangerous game, one where even the best intentions can lead to unforeseen consequences.”

Avicellus considers his next move carefully. Vittoria Bardi could represent a significant opportunity—or a dangerous entanglement. Either way, she is someone who could be pivotal in his broader mission to secure a better future for Florence.

As they pass through Corbignano, Avicellus says, "If I let you off here, do you think you would be able to make your way back to Florence safely?"

Giuliano considers Avicellus's question as they continue through the streets of Corbignano. The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the cobblestones, and the bustle of the village market carries on around them.

"I believe I can manage," Giuliano replies after a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "Corbignano is not far from my home. I appreciate your concern, doctor."

Avicellus nods, acknowledging Giuliano's response. The decision to part ways here would allow Giuliano to make his own way back to Florence without further entanglement in Avicellus's journey. It also gives Avicellus an opportunity to continue on his mission without the added complication of an unexpected passenger.

As they approach a quiet corner near a small inn, Avicellus brings the cart to a stop. He turns to Giuliano with a nod, gesturing towards the surroundings. "Here seems as good a place as any. Take care on your way back, Giuliano."

As Giuliano disembarks from the cart, Avicellus says to him, "It is less that I am planning to get involved in the political tides of Florence as it is that I am already involved. Please meet me on the Ponte Vecchio tomorrow at noon."

With that, Avicellus continues toward the safe house in Settignano.