From Crime To Court

Chapter 4

▪️S E R E N A▪️

In the past few weeks, I lied more than I ever had in my entire life.

Instead of a squire, they should have dubbed me a jester, given how effortlessly I had taken to spinning tales. From my name and age to my gender, my entire existence was one big charade.

Sereno, my newfound alias, bore an intentional resemblance to Serena. Given all the lies, I needed a name I would not easily forget.

When standing before the Marquis of Savoy, I had found myself tongue-tied while my heart pounded in my chest. The grandeur of the scene left me nearly speechless; there was so much to take in, from the décor to the finely dressed robes of those in attendance. As a history lover, that moment was nothing short of a dream realized. To witness the Renaissance, not through the pages of a book, but in the flesh, was an experience beyond comparison.

Nerves gnawed at me, threatening to betray my composure. It was a pivotal moment, one that demanded my full attention. When the Marquis had inquired about my interest in becoming a squire, I had immediately seized the opportunity.

What other choice did I have, after all?

Given my proficiency in martial arts, it was the only role I could convincingly assume. It was a precarious claim, yet in the realm of knightly training, it held a semblance of plausibility. I had hoped my self-defence skills would be enough to carry me through.

Other options flitted through my mind, like pretending to be a painter, but the very notion carried its own set of risks. How could a humble peasant like myself possess such an artful talent? The questions would have piled up, raising suspicions that I could not afford.

"Stop daydreaming and get these bed sheets up to the Marquis' chamber," barked Giotto, his tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

It was no secret that the steward harboured a distinct aversion towards me. Over the course of my stay at the villa, his disfavour was palpable, a simmering resentment that seemed to permeate every interaction. It was not just a matter of professional expectations; there was a personal edge to his animosity. He frequently tasked me with responsibilities beyond my assigned duties, much like now, in an attempt to humiliate me.

Niccolo, another squire in training, and one of the few friends I had managed to make, believed that Giotto hated the attention Lord Alessio gave me.

Even I could admit that the preferential treatment was undeniable and I found myself wondering what I had done to win over the Marquis in such a way. Perhaps it had to do with the way I had fought against Paolo, or the way that I had been carrying myself since I started living under his roof, making sure to execute my duties thoroughly.

Nonetheless, Lord Alessio's gestures, whether they be small courtesies or grander displays of favour, were impossible to ignore. It was as if he had singled me out from the rest of the squires in training, a fact that did not go unnoticed by those around me. The whispers and sidelong glances only served to underscore the peculiarity of the situation.

Giotto's blaring voice pulled my attention back to him, "Now, Sereno!"

With a nod, I gathered the silky bed sheets and left.

The halls of the grand estate were awash in the light of the early afternoon. My steps were quiet as I ascended the grand staircase, and the weight of the material in my arms served as a tangible reminder of the expectations that loomed over me. This was more than a simple errand; it was a test to prove that I could rise above the biases that sought to hold me back.

Arriving at the chamber, I carefully changed the sheets and remade the large four poster bed, ensuring that every fold and pleat was impeccable. It was a small act of devotion, a gesture of respect towards the esteemed occupant of this lavish space. In this moment, I vowed to let my actions speak louder than any preconceived notions or judgments.