A new day had dawned in Pisum. The sun was shining through the windows of Caelus' room, and he was still asleep. He had been away from home the night before, in Mr. Gaspar Teixeira's tavern, enjoying his youthful moments with his friends.
Caelus' head throbbed and his long, wavy black hair covered his eyes, giving him the feeling that it was earlier than it really was. The sound of a tit perched on a branch forced him to get out of bed and open the window to listen to its comforting sound.
Although he was still feeling the events of the night before, there was something about that bird's song that made him forget everything that was going on in his life and focus on the present.What if, in the next life, I were a bird? I could live my whole life making people happy with my songs. This thought was interrupted by his father, who suddenly entered his room.
– Caelus Vittorio Duarte, why aren't you dressed yet? I hope your evening wasn't so intense that it prevents you from fulfilling what you promised me.
His father's dark brown eyes, the same as his own, stared at him. He had once been a blacksmith, and his robust body, broad shoulders and calloused hands were still proof that he had worked tirelessly.
He had created several swords and sabres for the nobility, and his work was sought after by many people who wanted exquisite blades.
Over time, he devoted himself less and less to warlike instruments and more to tools for peasants. He sold his work more cheaply than he should have, but his generosity made him one of the most respectable figures in the city and he was always rewarded with the offer of goods and money in other ways. He still kept his modest forge going, but he devoted more time to his small shop, which he had opened the previous year, selling books and maps.
– No, no. Of course not, father, I'd never do anything like that.
– And what's this in your hand? – He looked at his son's hand, covered with a bandage that had a small bloody stain on it.
– It's nothing, don't worry about it.
– Have you practised with a sword again? Son, you don't want a life of adventure for yourself, it's not worth it, take my word for it. I'll have to talk to 'Sir' de Meneses, see if he'll stop putting ideas into your head.
– I told you it was nothing! – Caelus hadn't noticed that he had raised his voice.
– Well, it's past time to open the shop. Today I need to make some hammers and nails in the forge. Can I count on you to look after the shop until I get back?
– Yes, father, you can count on me.
– Then bring me a jug of ale around midday. The sun is scorching today.
– Do you need me to bring you anything else?
– I'm glad you reminded me, stop by Mr. Lorenzo Salvatierra's shop. He promised me that the guard for Mrs. Isabela Pisodorato's sabre would arrive this morning.
– Wasn't Mrs. Isabella in the capital?
– She spends some time there and some time here. I don't envy her duties. Being in charge of the whole kingdom and still having time to look after your people locally must give her too many headaches and create a lot of enemies who don't support her way of running the kingdom.
– We should rule ourselves, what have the nobles ever done for us except bring the kingdom to ruin?
– That's a conversation that shouldn't leave this room. Who has been saying such things to you?
– No-one in particular. People talk when they've been drinking for a while. You just have to pay attention, and you realise what they're really feeling.
– Well, you'll never hear me talking about that sort of thing. Mrs. Isabela has always been very good to us, and I know she's always done her best to stabilise the situation in the kingdom.
– But don't you think...
– Enough, son! – his cutting voice left his head throbbing again. – I want a simple life for you. This kind of talk and swordplay will only bring you an early grave. That's settled. Next month we'll go to Aureliana. That city has one of the best universities around. Being a teacher will do you good. A life where you can really make a difference. You'll be able to educate future generations on themes and topics that matter.
– And who will look after the shop? Who will light your forge?
– We can teach Mingo how to open and close the shop and look after it. It shouldn't be a difficult job, even for him. As for the forge, I'll have everything ready before we leave.
Caelus knew that what his father told him had to be done. Even though he had already turned twenty-four last week, on the twelfth day of Calorium, the fifth month of the year, the month that brings the intense summer heat, he still felt like a child. The respect he was given when he walked past or chatted to someone in town was the respect people gave his father, not him. He felt the constant need to prove himself and show that he really was a grown man, but everything he did only disappointed him.
– By the way – said his father, – as we're going to be in the biggest city there is, I'll find you a fencing master there.
– Are you serious? – His eyes opened, and a surprised, awestruck smile appeared on his face.
– Yes, I am. Since I can't stop you from stupidly injuring yourself practising with that crook, at least you should stick with a master who can actually teach you something useful.
Caelus pushed himself towards his father and gave him a big hug.
– Thank you, father!
– Don't thank me yet. First we have to get there, and that day is not yet today. Come on, the shop won't open by itself, and I've given Mingo the day off. He's probably in a worse state than you – he said, while laughing lightly at his own joke.
– Yes, of course, the shop! I've got to get dressed!
– I'll be waiting for you for the ale and the guard. Don't forget! – he said, as he closed the door.
It could have been worse. But if he said what he said, it's because he plans to keep his word. I don't really fancy having to study in another city that's unknown to me, but at least I'll be able to become a master swordsman too!
While he was thinking this, he hurriedly got dressed. Over his white shirt and black trousers, he wore a long, well-cut dark grey coat, a birthday present from his father that must have cost a fortune. He wore it whenever he could but found himself having to take it off and tuck it under his arm during the hottest hours of the day. He wore sturdy black boots and a red scarf around his neck.
The scarf had also been a present from his father, but it hadn't been bought. His father had told him that it was Caelus' mother who had given it to him, in times gone by that were not good for his father to remember. Caelus had tried several times to ask who his mother was and why she wasn't present in his life, but his father had always avoided answering his questions and said that he would tell him about his mother 'when the time was right'. So far, it seems, the right time has not come.
Caelus went downstairs and opened the door on his left. In a room of his house, with a door to the street, was where his father had decided to open his book and map shop. Ever since he was a little boy, Caelus had been fascinated by books and letters and old maps, which showed ancient kingdoms that were once powerful but had fallen over time.
His current job was simple: open the shop door and get ready to help potential customers buy books. Caelus spent his time in the shop completely bored, as most of his neighbours couldn't read and had no need to learn.
While he was leafing through a thick book entitled 'The Histories of the Great Kingdoms', a customer came into the shop. Caelus marked the page of the book and closed it, making a loudpom.
– Good morning, what can I do for you? Are you looking for anything in particular?
– Good morning, aren't you too young to own a shop?
The question came from a woman of medium height, a little shorter than Caelus. She had sun-browned skin and long black hair and wore a long red satin dress with black details and had an old gold medallion hanging around her neck, with symbols and letters that Caelus didn't know the meaning of.
– It's my father's shop; I'm looking after it while he's at the forge finalising orders for customers. Despite my age, I know I'll be able to help you with whatever you need – He smiled in a pleasant way, to keep up appearances, even though he didn't like the presence of this woman in the shop.
– Is Master Fausto Duarte your father?
– Yes, he is, and he taught me everything about this profession and letters.
– Too bad, I was hoping to meet Master Duarte, but you'll have to do – She sighed in displeasure. – What do you know about this?
She placed a piece of a map on the counter that had been torn up, with bright colours detailing parts of the continent that were impossible to make out, with phrases in gold ink on a red background all around its edge. What was written was in a language that had long since disappeared and was unknown to Caelus, who could only read the common language.
– I apologise, but what do you want me to tell you?
– I knew you'd be useless – She took the piece of map from the counter and placed it inside a small, ornate silver box. – I'll go to your father, where's the forge?
– Turn right and go straight ahead. You can't miss it. Find the smoke or the sound of the hammer on the anvil.
The woman had left without saying goodbye.What a strange woman. I wonder what she wanted. And why my father? What will he know that I don't?He looked at the clock hanging above the door.Gods! It's already late!
He rushed out of the shop and almost forgot to lock it. He had to run the errands his father had asked him to do. The quickest errand was to go to Lorenzo Salvatierra's shop, which was just a few blocks away.
He arrived at the shop out of breath, having rushed there in order to get to his father at the time he had asked for.
– Good morning, Mr. Salvatierra, how are you? – He said, trying to catch his breath.
– Young Caelus, look at you. I wonder why you're struggling to breathe? Do you have an urgent need for me? I've just received some new books; would you like to see them?
Lorenzo Salvatierra is a dealer in antiques and sometimes rare books. He's a tall man, with straight grey hair that's always well combed and piercing blue eyes, as blue as the waters of the Costa Azzurra. He always carried his staff adorned with sapphires the same colour as his eyes and fine blue clothes that made him stand out wherever he went.
– As much as I'd like to, I'm in a bit of a hurry. My father ordered you a guard for a sabre. Do you have it?
– Oh, yes! A masterclass kind if work, as much as it pains me to say it. Yes, your father asked me to find someone who would be able to decorate the guard he made. I found one in Aureliana. Beautiful work, too bad I can't keep the sabre your father will make – His smile showed some pride, but somehow sadness. – Here it is! It's a beauty, isn't it?
It really was, Caelus thought. The guard was made of a silver-pink steel, which shone like copper in the sun and showed the inlaid gold details, skilfully crafted: various flowery patterns with a pea pod in the centre, the symbol of Isabella Pisodorato's house.
– Our governess will be delighted with this work. If she doesn't, I will! Tell your father I'll pay him whatever it takes to keep this piece of art.
– I will, don't worry. How much do I owe you?
– Come now, my boy! I thought we had enough trust not to talk about money between us. It bodes ill. Besides, your father has already paid me, extra even, for all my work done as quickly as possible. Are you sure you don't want to take a look at my latest items? I know they'll interest you.
– Thank you very much for everything, Mr. Salvatierra, I'll have to leave it for another time, I have other matters to attend to.
– You always know where to find me!
And with that, Caelus left the shop. He noticed that the clock in the central square showed that it was only a few minutes before eleven in the morning. There was no time to lose, as he had to cross a large part of the city to reach the tavern. He had barely taken two steps towards his destination when his eyes were met by two hands of a person a little smaller than him.
– Guess who? – said the mysterious voice.
– But if I guess, you'll stop grabbing me – said Caelus, unable to contain his smile. He grabbed the hands covering his eyes with his own and turned in the direction of the voice. – Bia, I've missed you!
As soon as she had finished saying those words, Bia slapped him hard on the cheek and immediately kissed him on the lips with her own, red and plump, painted with expensive lipstick.
Beatrice Montferrat, better known to her friends as 'Bia', was Caelus' passion. Two years younger than him and fifteen centimetres shorter, she had a fire inside her that intoxicated everyone who saw her. Her oval face and emerald, green eyes made her an angelic vision, feared only by her red hair, the colour of burning coals.
It is said that those with red hair are descendants of the first men who sought to steal the power of Solarius, aiming to ascend to the pantheon of gods. To mark their failure, the Sun God cursed them with this hair colour, setting them apart from true believers and followers – a sign that such people were not to be trusted.
Bia paid no heed to these rumours and myths. She had always been lively and kind to everyone, even to those who scorned her charity because of her appearance. She preferred wearing men's clothing, claiming she felt more comfortable in them than in dresses.
One day, needing a brooch to fasten her shoulder cape, she went to Fausto Duarte's forge – and there she met Caelus. He was covered in soot, yet his eyes gleamed, catching her attention. From that moment on, they became inseparable.
But that was nearly two years ago. Now, she wore a white silk dress with green accents, the same shade as her eyes, the brooch pinned to her chest, its centre adorned with a stunning emerald. Her black suede heels clicked softly, yet she moved with feline grace, always surprising Caelus, who never heard her approach.
– I don't think I deserve half of what you've done to me – said Caelus, still slightly dazed from the impact.
– It's because you didn't meet me at the market, Cal. You knew I wanted to buy ingredients to make your favourite dish for tonight. Or have you forgotten?
– It slipped my mind. My father asked me to run some errands, and I'm already behind. And you're really making my favourite?
– Of course, silly! After last night, you more than deserve it.
Now I regret not remembering what happened yesterday, thought Caelus.What did I even do?
– How's your hand? You poor thing, Sir Meneses was too rough with you. When we play with swords, you never get this hurt – said Bia, winking. – Want me to come with you? Please say yes! I won't accept any other answer!
– I don't see why not. Your company is always welcome.
Before Cal could even finish, Bia had already seized his arm, her love enveloping him. She gazed at him with adoring eyes, silently vowing never to let go, not even if Solarius himself descended from the heavens to claim her as the new goddess of beauty and love.
They walked for a while, exchanging kisses and caresses as they crossed the city, until they reached Caelus's destination: The Black Raven, Gaspar Teixeira's tavern. Nestled in a cobbled alley far from the main square and its towering clock, the tavern was a shadowy yet undeniably charismatic presence. Its facade was built of rough stone, darkened by time and the smoke of neighbouring chimneys. The blackened wooden beams contrasted with the dark grey walls, lending it an austere air that commanded respect and lured curious passersby inside.
Above the entrance, a wrought-iron spiral held a swinging wooden sign painted with a raven mid-flight, its wings outstretched. The wind made the sign creak incessantly, occasionally thumping the heads of the unwary.
The entrance sat slightly below street level, its three steps worn down by the ceaseless tread of muddy boots and worn soles. The oak door, reinforced with iron crossbeams, bore the scars of past brawls – silent memories of rowdy nights. A small, grated peephole allowed the tavernkeeper to screen visitors before unbarring the door during delicate hours.
The tall, narrow windows were shuttered with rust-hinged wooden panels. When opened, they revealed coarse linen drapes that filtered the light, casting the interior into gloom. Some panes were cracked, patched with wax or leather. At times, a faint yellow glow seeped through the gaps, hinting at life within.
A cracked barrel repurposed as a planter by the entrance held rosemary, mint, and spearmint – perhaps more to mask odours than for aesthetics. An old oil lamp hung by the doorframe, lit at dusk to cast restless shadows on the walls.
Whispers of treachery clung to the tavern. It was said officers, smugglers, and conspirators had drunk side by side within. Yet outside, it remained as discreet as the raven it was named after: watchful, black, and ever-present.
The couple descended the steps, dodging the creaking sign and breathing in the pungent herbs. Gaspar Teixeira stood behind the counter, polishing tankards, when he spotted Cal and Bia.
– Ah, if it isn't my favourite couple! Here to rest before resuming your romantic stroll? – he said, grinning ear to ear.
– Afraid not. My father sent me for a jug of cold ale. He's been at the anvil all day. Could you spare one?
– Of course! Just a moment! I'll fetch the coolest from the cellar. We wouldn't want him drinking warm ale in this heat.
As the tavernkeeper left, Cal and Bia took in the dim interior. A few oil lamps hung from iron hooks, their weak light revealing wide, creaky floorboards strewn with sawdust to soak up wine spills. Behind the bar, dusty bottles, small casks, and pewter cups crowded the shelves, topped by a stuffed raven with glassy eyes, its wings half-spread as if presiding over the room.
The main hall was thick with pipe smoke and the scent of meat sizzling on the hearth's iron grill. A bubbling cauldron promised a hearty stew. The mismatched tables – some with patched legs, others carved with initials – bore witness to forgotten brawls. The chairs were in similar disrepair, some replaced by benches.
Cal's gaze landed on a group huddled in whispers, their leader obscured by a hulking man in a reinforced leather vest. A spiked cudgel hung at his belt. Gaspar returned with the ale and noticed Cal's stare.
– I'd look away. Nothing good comes from tangling with that lot.
– Who are they? They're not locals, are they?
No, they aren't. See that brute? They call him 'The Bear.' He's been here daily, unnerving me since I first laid eyes on him. My regulars share the same fear – patrons vanish the moment he's spotted. They say the earth shakes before he enters.
– Could anyone be that imposing? What's he done to earn such a dreaded reputation?
– Mostly tall tales. People say that he fought in the War of the Windy Hills; on whose side, I cannot say. There, armed with just a dagger, he roared so loud it left an entire squad completely incapacitated. Others say that, with that roar, he left them deaf or bleeding from their ears.
– I think that's an impossible feat, no matter how strong someone is.
– Oh, aye, I agree with you, but this other tale is more believable: they say he is able to lift a man from the ground with one-handed, the same way a common person would lift a bunch of turnips.
– I can believe that second tale more easily. I hope I never become one of his victims nor be the reason they create more tales about him. Unfortunately, I have to go. It was a pleasure Mr. Teixeira. How much do I owe you?
– The pleasure's all mine, Young Cal. Don't worry about it, you can pay me later at night.
– Thank you. I'll see you later. Shall we go, Bia?
As they made their way toward the ancient oak door to leave the establishment, Cal slowed his step and tried to see who else was at the table besides the Bear. His curiosity caused him to slow his pace to the point where he nearly stopped altogether. Between the beams and the lack of light, he managed to catch sight of a woman wearing a red dress.Could it be? It couldn't, right?, Caelus thought. He clenched his eyes, trying to discern the details through the darkness. It was then that he noticed it – around her neck, coiled like a serpent, hung a golden pendant, engraved with the same enigmatic symbols he had seen in his father's workshop.