But Meanwhile, the Gears Were Shifting…

It was a lovely, sunny, twittery-bird morning. The mayor of Yprèsa, Carlos Vittori, lazily sipped his morning coffee as he propped his legs up on the table. The sun glinted off his gold-black hair, ebony eyes, and jeweled fingers. Other sunbeams bounced off the astrolabes, ship-figurines, swords, daggers, and marble nudes that decorated his study.

Impressive man. He’d been a great warrior once, (still is), and his great ruby-studded saber bore witness to that.

“Caballero Vittori, an audience wishes to sees to see you,” a page announced.

Carlos Vittori frowned. “Let them in.”

The door opened; thudded, echoed along the marble corridors outside. Rinaldo Riviera, Crema, and an elegantly aged countess (Missora Vittori) stepped in. Carlos greeted his mother welcomed the others courteously. He’d met Rinaldo once, and known him a man of chivalrous eccentrics. Crema may have sold ice cream at his past elections. Anddearest mama – Missora – prim and proper as always, poised, a stellar opposite of Alejandro’s easy boyishness. Poor Alejandro! What had killed him in the end!

“Buenos días, my guests.” Carlos declared grandly, (and seeing the guests’ impatience, cut short on the usual greetings and jumped right to topic.) “You are here on one account. What may it be?”

“Those blasted Amigos tried to trick me – into false oaths and a falser marriage – for my money no doubt!”

“Theyraided my coach – melted all ma ice-cream!”

“SILENCE!” Missora snapped her fan shut, sharply, snipping out their complaints. “We’re here on a matter that concerns four notorious criminals, one of whom is your own niece Valera!”

“What? Impossible!” Carlos gasped. “Please elaborate.”

Crema slapped down four wanted posters. “These young ones – men, women, I don’t know – wreaked havoc to ma frozen delights, stole ma money, and smirched all the chocolate chips.”

Carlos looked at them. By the gold doubloon, one of the girls did awfully resemble Valera. The flowing locks, the fierce expression, the same amber eyes – Alejandro’s eyes. He flipped through the others – a blond man, a blond tanned woman, and a curly-haired man with a rather sultry expression.

“They call themselves El Bravado’s Amigos,” Señora Missora frowned. “They are on the loose now, ragged and ripe, plundering and disturbing peace. First major encounter on

Malvarade Highway, with Crema’s coach of frozen treats.

Carlos reached for his twirly moustache, realized he’d shaved it, so lapsed into pensive silence instead.

“We are sorry your Valera is in the gang.”

“I tried to kill them,” Rinaldo spoke, “But they escaped.”

“Good,” Carlos said. “This way we can crush them slowly and effectively, and in a manner so no one dares meddle with us again. I assure you it can be done. So. What now?”

“I say we hangs them!”

“Aye aye, a hanging, drawing and quartering!”

“Of course!” Carlos beamed his poster-mayor smile. “I assure you, as long as I am Caballero Carlos Manuel Vittori, Mayor of Yprèsa, I shall capture these transgressors of peace and – it shall be a most illustrious hanging. Now, I am busy with some matters of the state which I must urgently tend to. So…”

They mumbled their partings and shuffled out the door, half-content. Carlos returned his feet to the table and faced his mother happily. “What’s for lunch, Ma?”

Missora Vittori sighed sharply. “What’s for lunch? What of Valera! She is a disgrace! First, expelled from Santa Therésa. Then, joins a band of outlaws. Outlaws! Alejandro’s daughter cavorting around riffraff-”

“She knows what she’s doing, my girl.”