The courtyard held several different kinds of people in its stony composition. The verdant artistry of rose bushes and pansies, which were meticulously aligned and primed, drew in the admiration of some of the people who had made it there. Surprisingly, the palace courtyard was almost entirely untouched by fire, which lent credence to the position of the Count, since the palace was deemed a holy place. Some of the towers high above bore dents and scratches which were mostly indistinguishable to the people down below. They’d be fixed soon enough, but the Dragon [i]had[/i] tried at the palace. He was unsuccessful due to wards and magics commissioned from the papacy. No one knew that, not Emilio, not Ceasar Luna. The unfamiliar couple stood side-by-side at the base of the castle, surrounded by a couple dozen men, some women, and even a child or two. Some guardsmen, and more than a few of the team that worked in the palace, moved crates and barrels from a door which led into the cellar from under an archway, to Emilio’s left, and down the hill behind the palace which led to the harbor. 

Emilio noticed a group of men in the corner of the courtyard, commiserating like a bunch of fools, sailors no doubt. Emilio stepped up, through the crowd, and whistled at the seamen, demanding their attention. It was a piercing whistle which drew attention from not only the sailors, but everyone else in the courtyard too, not to mention the birds who’d made their roost on the castle balcony. “You bunch! Go with these men moving boxes, help them get the supplies from the dock onto the ship, then join the crew.” It was easy talking to them, they were sailors through and through, and they knew a captain when they saw one. They chuckled still, but got to work nonetheless. 

Emilio turned toward the crowd, eyed who remained; soldiers, mercenaries, merchants, and “explorers”. And then there were the children, he’d leave them for last. “We need people for an expedition into the Berber coast. If you’ve never been on a boat, or have a weak stomach, I recommend you stay behind. It’s a risky mission but nevertheless lucrative. We’re working on Portugal’s bankroll.” Emilio had a slight smirk on his face for the last statement. He could be charming if he was in the mood, and since his stomach was full he felt like he might be in the mood. “I’ll be happy to answer questions now, but I recommend that everyone follow these men and get to the ship if you’re satisfied. We should set sail by nightfall.” People started to move toward the harbor, including one of the children, Emilio interrupted the child and set him back into the crowd, “Not you, not quite yet.”

One of the men in the crowd, a smart looking gentleman with a large beard, spoke up, his black cane raising high into the air. “What is the expedition about? Does it concern the Dragon?”

Caesar Luna stepped up from the shadows to cover the question. “This is a relief effort. Sintra has owed bonds, and friends in the barbaric capital. As for your fairytale assumption: The count made an appointment this morning. The mythic claims have been debunked. You’ll notice no beast marks in town, no one has been found bitten or half eaten. There are not dragons, nor have there ever been. Next you’ll say we should start exuviating for Excalibur.”

Emilio eyed Luna as he spoke. He was surrounded by an aura conceived of vicious lies. Emilio wanted to scream out, end it all, but he could not. The Count would have him on the crooked man that very night if he compromised his word so easily, so consciously. These things, Emilio knew, were better off not known for as long as possible. The Scar wished now that he could have but a few more moments of ignorance, a few more seconds without the hideous fucking mark. He took a small breath and then nodded and smiled, stepped forth with a confidence befitting a Pirate Captain. He extended his hand in compassion to Luna and placed his palm on the lordling’s shoulder. 

“That is true. As the count has said, a dragon was not the cause of this, not but ourselves. I’ve been all over the world, to the new world as well. I’ve not seen a dragon, nor a mermaid either despite how much I’d love to.” He chuckled a little. Luna smiled warmly, which was rather unsettling. He was such a narrow chinned, block of ice. “You haven’t seen a dragon have you?” Emilio smiled, and the old man, who had grown embarrassed, shook his head. “No, it was no dragon,” Emilio felt like he might throw up, but he mustered all his strength, all of his sheer willingness to live, “as the Count said, the Archbishop of Efeso himself has proclaimed this a divine judgment, directly from the scripture. We are heathens, it is our burden to bear. I’ve made my penance,” Emilio suddenly opened his blouse slightly, showing his scarred mark, “have you?” He spoke in brash lies, coarse with a maleficent opposition to human inquiry and reason. It was a bluff he could not loose and he felt like a damn basted for using it. He was challenging him to a show of faith he could not contend in public, not without heavy dissent. The old man shrunk so small that Emilio could hardly see him, then there was quiet. 

A woman, accompanied by a man who Emilio assumed was her husband, raised her hand and spoke; softly but loud enough to be heard from her position far in the back of the crowd. “Where exactly will the expedition be going?”

Emilio answered confidently, “Morocco. We aren’t sure which port yet, but that’s an easy enough matter.”

Luna looked at the crowd impatiently, “anything else?”