Lacrime d'Oro: A Golden Wind Epilogue

Chapter 1: La Strada Complicata

The cold breeze caressed the young man's cheeks.

An unusually chilly mid may night gripped the streets of Napoli. The hussle and bussle of the dense north-italian city had subsided along the last rays of the sun and while the muffled hedonism of the nightlife center downtown could be faintly heard, the rich neighbourhood of the Rione Sanitá was mostly cloaked in priviledged silence. The houses and apartements in this area were interspersed by large Pallazzi and the occassional shrines and monuments - every inch of this place commanded respect, reverence and silence. And as the night heeded those commands, the streets emptiness was upset by a lonesome silhoutte, a young man making his way through the Rione.

Pannacotta Fugo had not often visited this place. A youth of 16, he had spent most of his time either at schools in other, even richer areas of the city or downtown. As he walked past the pompous palaces, he was reminded of his childhood home, the gilded prison his parents had raised him in. He did not like the area. His memories aside, Rione Sanitá was, for all its pomp and gloria, a thoroughly forboding place. Not only was any potential visitor never far away from the Catacombs of San Gaudioso and San Gennaro, but the presence of the Cimitero Fontanelle could be felt throughout. This graveyard contained the remains of countless, anonymous victims of the plague in the 17th Century, an ever present reminder of the fragility of human life. Fugo much preferred the more lighthearted atmosphere of the center, especially the quaint and stylish restaurant Il Libeccio, which had unfortunately closed down recently.

Nevermind all of that, Fugo thought, biting his lip. Focus on what you came here to do.

Among the many Pallazzi, only one was of any interest to Fugo. It was a massive property located at the far end of the area, which was surrounded by a lush green garden, protected by iron fences and gates, housing a main building encircled by multiple smaller lodgings, for guests and guards alike. The loneliness of the empty street was disturbed by the presence of three gate guards, looming at the main entrance to the estate. The two on the outside were chatting quietly, while the one on the inside was sitting on a chair next to the guardhouse of the Palazzo, reading a book. As Fugo approached them, he took a deep breath. The chances of this encounter being pleasant were slim to none and he had to prepare himself.

The larger of the two men outside the gate was the first to notice him, as he fixed his gaze onto Fugo. The guards all wore folded hats and large trench coats, the latter of which were obviously meant to conceal whatever they might carry on their personage. In any other part of the world, their appearances would have been cause for suspicion - in Italy, it was a sign of power and of commanding respect. This knowledge was contrasted however with the warm smiles upon the two front guards faces as they looked over to Fugo, undoubtedly hoping for a relaxed conversation with a party-tired school boy to spice up their night shift. However, duty and discreetness bound them to not initiate until Fugo was, inevitably, standing right in front of them.

"Buona sera, Ragazzo! Are you lost?", the first guard hollered in an inviting tone. They had clearly been bored.

"Perhaps he had too much to drink! Tell us, how's the centro tonight? Nice and bountiful? I guess not. With how drab you look, you must have either been robbed or rejected or both!", the second guard cackled.

"The human mind", the third guard groaned behind the gate and his book, "can only process 4 things at once. You greeted him, and you asked him three questions and made two assumptions. That is more than 4 things. If you really think he's drunk, why don't you let him react to one thing at a time instead of swarming the boy?"

"Then don't you think your little lesson right now is counterproductive, Richardo?", the second guard shrieked.

Ignoring his partners bickering, the first and largest guard approached Fugo, his pace devoid of aggression. "Now, don't mind those stronzi. I have never seen you around here, so I'm guessing you're lost. This house definetly isn't where you belong, and, as much as I enjoy a nightly chat, we are instructed to not let people gawk around here too much. So tell me, where are you from? Maybe we can help you find the main road. The streets around here can get pretty complicated after all!"