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Once again that time of day, a drink, a cool breeze above smaller buildings in the city. Fresh air versus street level air. As if there was a difference; maybe a perceived only difference. Still. Gurian is here, dark wine at hand. Brought up from some cellar where it was cooler than the rise of late spring/early summer air this day. Slightly different, where there are usually some guards stationed about the house, guarding family members, prepared to go to the main floor to defend against some other hosue even if needed; today they guards on this floor are on the loggia with Gurian. He is talking quietly with them today in here, and seems to be finishing. "… At the bottom of the stairs. I think this floor is secure enough Jovian, I would like some privacy." There are other rooms up this high, he must want extra extra privacy from the guards today.
*
Privacy being a four letter word to Tomaso (nobody ever said spelling was his strong point), the younger brother weaves his way around the guards and makes a beeline for a goblet to steal some of Gurian's wine. Well, if Gurian has it, it must be good, right? "Afternoon," he greets casually as a hand snakes out to grasp the vessel. "What's all the fuss about? Death threats? Murder? Blackmail? Worse?!" Every suggestion comes a little more gleefully than the next.
*
The guards let the brother pass. Funny family gets that special treatment, if Gurian wants them to give him privacy he's on his own for removing them. Instead they give a nod, "Aye, signore, down the stairs." So says the one, the other, this Jovian, nods the same, but hesitates. "If you insist, signore," reluctant but acknowledging. A look to Tomaso from Jovian then he turns to leave the same. To which, Gurian lifts a free hand to rub his temples, the other dedicated to a goblet. Though of the brothers present, he is more known to nurse his drinks, he's not often without a drink while relaxing.
A grumph of a sigh escapes him as he turns. "Good afternoon. None of the sort," he responds to Tomaso, coming now to look out the windows again, towards the south. This time more to the waters of the Dominus Mare than the activity of the city. "These rumors have my curious of our own guards. We are at present good with the other houses, but should Vindicti arise, I am now not so certain." Briefest of pauses, enought to separate thoughts a little, but no invitation to allow his brother to speak in that breadth of time. "Jovian has of late been on duty around me an awful lot. This is raising my suspicians."
*
Tomaso takes advantage of the time it takes for Gurian to speak to fill his goblet to brimming, slurping from the edge when it threatens to spill. "What rumours? You think somebody's paying your man off?" he queries, attention more on the wine than the conversation for now while there's still a danger it'll go everywhere, or worse yet down his clothes. One arm, the one holding the bottle, sticks out sideways for balance as he sips from the overfull goblet, as though that'll help matters. "Come on, what are they going to learn? That you're in dire need of a tailor, a woman, and a game of cards, not necessarily in that order?"
*
At any moment his brother is speaking, Gurian has that set stoic browline. Disgruntled and ready to respond to almost everything his brother says. In fact, he does turn half as much to face him, noting the delicate act performed to assure the goblet is as full as possible and the balance levelled by one arm. The grace of a cat, thus speaks the eyeroll of Gurian. Then another vocal sound of disdain, some grump or another, deep in his throat. "Which would you advice then? If I could manage all three somehow, at cne even?" Despite the gruff quality to his throat, there is that lace of a smile, just there, the left side of his cheek pulls at the corner of his mouth. It could be a very low, sublte chortle that gruff noise. But he is drawn in to the conversation. "You know, when we had arranged the prior shipment of wood from Pario, Jovian was one of two guards present. It seems feasible several highwaymen were near that bend in the Merzia where the boat was sunk, but that comes off as all too convenient too." Suspician much?
*
"All depends on the woman. If you've got a woman, you don't need the tailor any more, and if you don't have the woman, you need the cards," Tomaso reasons, finally straightening now his goblet is at a more manageable level. "Why does everything have to be some kind of conspiracy, though? Maybe it's just plain bad luck. It happens! I'm sure our guards are as loyal to you as I am."
*
"Ah, see, our solutions are at hand with this alliance to Sabastino. But to pass the time, I should play cards?" A look to his brother, to allow affirmation, "And you know of a game?" Though Gurian still looks, his eyes may suggest he doesn't want an answer, or assumes his brother does know of a game but its probably not the game he should join as a Conte at least. Some redundanty in the later question at the least. Though he does favor the other topic, he walks, goblet in hand to near the brazer, poking at the intricate metal top that is showing the signs of regularly heated metal for certain. A curious look given back again, more so when as loyal as I am is commented on by Tomaso. "I am certain your loyaties lie with the house, despite best intentions," he responds, "Jovian and the others interest lies with the coin." Maybe the wrong thing to assume about staff, but Gurian seems set in that thought. "Even if they are loyal, are we certain none have been approached by these mercenries of the Shaul Ventura, the one that fights for Vinchia?" Stolen wood to a plot by Vinchia, it adds up in Gurian's mind.
*
Tomaso half grins. "No games you'd want to join in, I think," he admits, shrugging an elegantly tailored shoulder. "Although a good win means you could pay your guards more than anyone else and guarantee their loyalty. How much can a bunch of mercenaries pay anyway? Sometimes, Gurian, bad luck is just bad luck. You can't just claim every bit of misfortune is down to Vinchia."
*
"If you find a game suitable," returns Gurian, as if there were a Conte's game somewhere in the city. Then again, like he'd know. "My chances of winning good are slim. I can only make sure bets." Assured he means. Then he does, lifting the goblet up, but not yet drinking. "Bad luck, I can settle for that now. If something should happen again, it will only raise my suspicion further though. Maybe I am feeling the weight of this moment, a delicate time. We will not simply be Zanetti, the house of ships. I mean to move us along by way of importance among the houses. Misfortune it may be, but we should see that our affairs are in order before we draw more eyes towards our affairs."
*
Tomaso ambles over to look out over the water, leaning up against a pillar as he sips from his goblet. "Well, what did you have in mind, then? If you're so suspicious, how are you going to prove it? You can't just sack all the guards and hire more. That's asking for trouble, isn't it?" He pauses to brush the hint of plaster dust from his shoulder, frowning at it. How dare such a thing mar his appearance?! "Come on, this is you, you've always got some kind of cunning plan up your sleeve. What's the shout?"
*
Despite the cut of his sleeve being out of fashion, that is one thing he might share in common with Tomaso. The appearance and not wanting anything else on his clothes. But he stands more up right and rigid, which helps with things like that. "I am thinking, what if we lay a trap. In a few days, we meet to discuss a gift to the bride to be. An offering of welcome to our house of some sort. Something valuable. We announce the date it is to be moved." The one part done, he takes a drink from that goblet finally and lowers it, letting his free hand slide to the small of his back in a fist. "We then contact the Wyvern Company to secure some free mercenaries. Both to investigate the route for the best locations for a potential ambush, and then stage for a potential mugging. We see if this draws attention. If its set after our party, it could be time enough that any ears are willing to make a move to separate from the Pario affair with the lumber." A look turned to Tomaso, its a thought, but suggestions welcome certainly.
*
Tomaso purses his lips, absently swirling the wine in his goblet. "So we're going to tell them where and when we're moving more wealth than they've seen in a year? Wait, you think the Wyvern Company are in on it, too? Really?"
*
Here was Gurian ready for another drink, which he has to pause from. "Wyvern, no, they would be hired to deal with any potential bandits. They helped recover the wood, they honored their contract. I imagine a secondary short term contract for just this purpose would be good." Then almost a drink again, but a turn, looking to his brother. Seeing if there is suspicion about Wyvern Company raised by him.
*
Tomaso waves a hand vaguely, exhaling. "Eh, I don't need to understand the reasoning behind it. If you think it's a good idea, let's do it. What do you need me to do?"
*
"Two things," returns Gurian, ready for this part it would seem. "The first, you and I will at some point discuss this gift in front of Jovian and a few others. As part of the planning for our party and the wedding to come." A given, he just said that anyways, "And secondly, I cannot send word out seeking to contract sword arms. Perhaps you could quietly give word to Wyvern Company that we are recruiting and we need to be assured any mercenaries they provide can be discrete about our intentions?"
*
"Perfect!" Tomaso agrees, smile immediately appearing. "There's this one young lady I've been wanting to talk to anyway and this is a perfect excuse. Stunning young thing. Even makes the armour look good."
*
"I somehow knew you might have," begins Gurian, but pausing. The fisted hand at the small of his back falls away, he moves towards the bottle of wine even in that pause. "Really, makes the armor look good. I trust your opinion on this woman certainly." But doubts that anyone looks good in armor, then again, he may prefer the more dainty. "How long have you been eyeing this one .. no, I don't think I need to know that. I trust you to your devices. I should speak with Emmeline on this as well, have you seen her about today?"
*
"I'm sure she looks better out of it," Tomaso rejoins, lifting both brows suggestively. "Can you imagine the stamina of a girl like that?" He makes an undignified noise, shudders, then takes a long draught from his goblet as though to refortify himself after the very exertion of the thought. "Hm? Emmeline? Oh, yes, I spotted her lurking about her rooms before lunch. Probably still kicking around - did you want me to poke my nose in on my way out and send her your way?"
*
Stoic he is, its hard to say if its practiced or tried, keeping a straight face for so long at a time. Some may raise rumor it relates to the placement of a certain board, which no one says in front of Gurian for certain. But the comment about the girl gets a rise enough that his lips turn to a smile. The hint of one, which is a large smile for Gurian. He has to shake his head at the thought to get back to a proper stewing visage on his face. Grabbing the bottle to pour another glass, he agrees with a curt nod. "If you could, and she is about. I'll be up her for another glass, then back to my study. Thank you Tomaso."
*
Tomaso finishes his goblet and sets it down for some hapless servant to have to collect later, then holds a hand out for the bottle when Gurian's done with it. It's astounding the number of bottles the Conte loses this way. "I'll let her know, leave it to me."
*
With a nod at his brothers word to leave, and astonishing as it is, the bottle is handed over by Gurian. As if its part of a routine. Then again, he knows he'll only finish the second cup and the remaining cup or two in the bottle is better utilized then left to waste. That's nearly prudent.