Café de Nuit

The Fall of House Pancrazio

Chapter One

A Letter to Antonin Preciatii of Levkarest from Magenta Fiorella

14th April, 758

Dearest Antonin,

I am saddened to hear of your son’s passing. Charles was a valiant hunter and a stalwart friend. He will be sadly missed by any who have had the wealth of having met him. It is always tragic when a child is lost, my family has felt this pain, and I am sure you are feeling something no parent should ever feel. You have my condolences and if there is anything I can do for you please don’t hesitate to ask, for you have been a valuable partner to the family wine business, and that partnership is a bond that I assure you will last past these trying times.
As you know my own husband, Agosto passed this last winter from a terrible fever. It was a miserable three months and, though I miss him more than words can express, he was in much misery throughout his illness and I am sure that he welcomes the respite. Because the house bears ill memories of that time, I shall be returning to the family estate Casa Pancrazio outside Vor Zyden within the week to live with my Grandmother. The affairs of the winery will be handed over to you in Levkarest. Agosto’s cousin Francis will see to the farms near my home in Sturben and will see to the shops there. He will come each season instead of my late Agosto to collect my family’s share. I have instructed him to only collect half of the profits this summer to help alleviate your loss of young Charles. I know from my own recent experiences that a few gold coins cannot replace the death of a loved one.
May Ezra guide your family safely through the mists. Your faithful friend,

Magenta Fiorella




From the Diary of Gianna Pancrazio

27th April, 758

Dearest Diary,
I heard a terrible sound tonight. I had heard whispers before of the flute music that Antonio followed to his death but I had not heard it that night. But tonight I did. I am afraid to leave the room in fear that the sounds will come again, this time for me. Why does my husband insist on living in this dreadful place? If it were not for the wealth that his mother lords over him I would make him move us to Levkarest. We would be closer to that erratic Lady Boritsi sure, but at least we wouldn’t have Dilisnya’s goons robbing us every month. I’m positive that they stole my soiled undergarments the last time the searched the manor. I hear footsteps…




A Letter to Roderigo Pancrazio from Saverio Pancrazio

2nd May, 758

Nephew,
How are you doing in this time of tragedy? I am grieved to hear that Luisa is dead. I cannot say I am surprised; she was old for a woman. I will miss my sister dearly; she was a light in the dark for many of us.
Regardless, I am afraid to say I will not be there in time for her funeral. I have a lecture here at the university in two days time and the travel alone from Ludendorf to Vor Zyden will take a month. I would hope my sister is not left above ground for that long, no matter what “magicks” the Ezran clerics would try to administer.
I understand that you are seeing to the family’s finances. I take it Luisa has shown you the secret location of the family vault? Be careful with those nightshades, the tax collectors of Dilisnya will come once a month, maybe more. Luisa always gave them two hemlocks a head. That amount of silver always seemed to do the trick. If they do search the house, do not disclose the location of the vault. Your mother would have taken that secret to her grave if the taxmen had tried to force it out of her. Our timely payments to Lord Dilisnya have kept us in good favor with him and his men so do try to keep up the tradition.
I shall return to Casa Pancrazio immediately following my lecture here to help assist you in the family matters. I do hope my chambers are unmolested, as I understand your daughter has returned to the house as well. It will be nice to see that place full of people again. Your mother’s final years were tense ones for us all. Imagine laughter once again in the halls. I mean no disrespect of course; I loved Luisa very much as did we all.
Until my arrival, do take good care of Phebe. I hope the young girl isn’t being too much of a burden.
Your Uncle,
Silvero Pancrazio

It was a unusually cold day that morning as the members of the Pancrazio family laid their matriarch Luisa to rest. The funeral took place at the ‘new’ cemetery located just outside Von Ziyden. It was lavish and there were many mourners in attendance. On a nearby hill the aging Lord Dilisnya watched the procession flanked by six horsemen in chain. The nobleman wore somber black clothing that contrasted starkly with his curly gray blond hair. Though he spoke to no one, and he was the only other Borcan noble attending, his mere presence inspired a sort of tension in many of the serfs and local merchants that was palpable.

Luisa’s only son Roderigo stands near the family crypt with his buxom wife Gianna and a young beautiful woman, their daughter. Another woman, this one blond and doe eyed, clutches a large stuffed bear looking vacantly at the mourners with a confused look about her. This is Phebe, Luisa’s niece. The majordomo of house Pancrazio, Emilio, stands with her, making sure she does not wander far from the ceremony.

The head Ezran priest from Von Ziyden, Calden Boiryer, says a few prayers over the large oaken casket as it is interred in the crypt. The aging and portly man wheezes through his speech, laboring over every word. As the funeral ends, many mourners approach Roderigo and offer their condolences. Many of the men have trouble dropping the hand of his daughter Magenta after greeting her.

Lord Dilisnya does not approach but leaves with his retinue.

A raven-haired halfling approaches the grave reverently. While his air is somber, his clothes are not - he wears a motley coat, patterned in black and white diamonds, festooned with glitter and bells. He reaches into his sleeve and, with a flourish, produces a large, sparkling, cheap silk lily, cut from fabric lighter than gauze(1). He gently tosses it into the air and, with a puff of his cheeks, blows the gaudy toy up into the air. He spins, twirls, and cartwheels, pausing each time to puff his cheeks and blow the toy lily up the air, keeping it ever aloft(2). Finally, he hops up onto the foot of Luisa's monument with a somersault(3) and catches the lily in midair. He drops to his knees, lays the flower down reverently, and then somersaults off the monument. He bows to Luisa's grave, as if asking for her ever silent applause.

A keen observer(4), however, might note that the little man was paying close attention to Phebe's reaction to his capers, hoping to earn her approval.

1: Prestidigitation spell, DC 12.
2: Tumble check to entertain an audience, take 10, result 18 (requesting a +2 circumstance bonus for the prestidigitation.)
3: Jump check, hop up, take 10, result 13.
4: Sense Motive check, DC 20(hunch).

As usual, Phebe lights up and smiles at the halflings antics while Emilio looks on annoyed. Some of the other mourners look on with the same mixture of cheer and disapproval. The tension around the grave seems lightened somewhat. Indeed even the air feels warmer. With ease, Tuke tumbles about the Pancrazio family crypt. As he lays the toy flower at the foot of the stone, Phebe claps her hands in delight.

Roderigo, a stern look on his face but obvious water in his eyes, approaches the halfling and puts a massive callused hand upon his shoulder.

"That'll do for now Tuke. Mother always did love the way you made my cousin smile." Roderigo looks at Phebe, the woman again looking lost and confused. He drops his voice to a whisper.

"There will be a reception at Casa Pancrazio once we are finished here. Many of Mothers former business partners are coming. Save some of your best buffoonery for them. I'll need them in good spirits."

The big man jostles Tuke's hair roughly and walks back to his wife and daughter.

Tuke lowers his head and wipes tears from his eyes(1). "Yes, good Master Roderigo." As he speaks, he glances up into Roderigo's eyes. He nods discreetly, glances over at Phebe, and looks into Roderigo's eyes again. The message is subtle but clear(2): "Will do. And I'll mind her, too, as needed."

(1) Bluff check, he hated the nasty old penny pincher, taking 10, Sense Motive DC 18 to see through it, requesting +2 circumstance bonus after the performance.
(2) Bluff check, delivering secret message, take 10, Sense Motive DC 18 to intercept/interpret.

Tristan approaches the crypt. Pausing for a moment beside the burial site, he silently pays his respects to the dead woman before walking on to join Tuke and Phebe.

The young man has worn his usual plain clothing for the funeral- but he's added a black armband to the right sleeve of his buff coat, and his blond hair is pulled back in a queue tied with a matching black ribbon.

Tristan politely offers his condolences to any family members he encounters on his way, of course.

Tuke nods and winks, unsmiling, at Tristan as he approaches. "Oi, Blacky. Save me a drink for after the party - we'll need it." Tuke had nicknamed Tristan "Blacky" after a mishap involving a fouled blunderbuss and the kitchen's tomcat-in-residence; Tristan had ended up looking like a chimney sweep. Tristan had never seemed to mind the nickname... much.

Acknowledging Tuke with a quick nod of his head, Tristan replies-

''Yes, of course.''


The handsome young man turns to Phebe and says-

''I'm truly sorry for you loss, Miss Phebe. ''

Phebe smiles at Tristan and nods quickly. She tries to speak, but only monotoned gibberesh came forth.

As usual.

Emilio gives Tristan an approving nod as well.

Calder Boiryer and a few lesser acolytes from the temple begin to mingle through out the thinning group of mourners, shaking hands and saying reassuring words. As the priest reaches Roderigo, the two break off from the group and walk among the headstones. After a few moments it becomes clear that they are exchanging heated words, though are taking pains to keep it quiet from the others. Roderigo, his temper rising, throws his arms in the air and clearly yells at the priest.

"I said I would have it when I have it!"

Roderigo turns and walks back to his wife and daughter. He takes Gianna by the hand and leads her away from the cemetary towards their carriage on the road. Magenta lingers a moment, her eyes catching the houndsmans. She parts her mouth slightly but doesn't speak.

Emilo leads Phebe to the carriage, with the halfling behind scrambling to catch up.


The gray clouds overhead burst somewhat spilling a fine thin sheet of misty rain forth.

Tristan runs over to the carriage and clambers onto the perch next to the driver. Then he pulls out his rain parasol and sets it up, wedging the lower end into a gap in the boards, so that it is held upright and in place. He then checks his pistols, making sure they are primed, dry, and secure in their velvet-lined holsters [sewn into the lining of his coat]. After this is finished, he pulls his spare cloak out from the carriage box and arranges it over his lap, with his hands underneath the cover.

Tuke grabs onto the buckboard, vaults up, and hangs onto the carriage door as it trundles away from the graveyard. He peers into the mist, trying to see what Calder Boiryer's next move after Roderigo walked away from him. The rain turns the priest and his acolytes into gray outlines, washing out any details(1). Tuke shakes his head in frustration, then swings inside the coach.

(1): Spot check, rolled 16(-4 penalty for rain), result 12.

From his perch, Tristan can see all around the front of the coach- not that there's much to look at, with the rain falling. Still, he keeps his eyes open and scans for the approach of danger.

Could be wolves out, this time of year...

During the service, a young woman stands among the other servants. She has long hair the color of black coffee bound in a single braid and light tan skin. A black shawl thrown over her olive dress is her mourning attire, her head bare. As the other mourners walk away, she approaches the casket and drops a long curtsy, bowing her head. As she lifts her face, her eyes are wet and it is not likely the wind that irritates them. In strange contrast to her coloring, her eyes are pale blue, so light she looks blind.

Agna smiles quietly but distractedly at Tuke's antics, brushing any last tears away. She drops a curtsy to Roderigo and his family as she passes them, murmuring,“Master, madame, very sorry. Miss Phebe, Madame Magenta.”

At the sound of the argument, she glances over, like the other mourners, but her gaze rests a little longer on the participants (1). As Roderigo escorts his wife and daughter to the carriage, she quickly assumes the professional disinterest of a servant and climbs into her own spot.

As the misty rain sheets the cemetery, Agna looks up into the clouds. Peace briefly comes over her face with the wash of rain.


1) Sense Motive, taking 10, DC 22

Harold waits by lord Saverio's carriage. The sometime scholar, sometime tutor has kept his distance from the funeral and waits for things to come. 'The end of an era, I suppose,' he thinks to himself as he shudders and pulls his drab cloak tighter around his body.

The rain picks up somewhat as the mourners leave the graveyard. Some head towards Von Ziyden and others take the path towards Pancrazio manor. Though Saverio is not in attendance, his assistant Harold uses his carriage. The scholar often was out of Borca on various educational trips, and there were some who thought it offensive the eldest Pancrazio was not in attendance.

Sitting next to the coachman on Roderigo's carriage, Tristan scans the landscape for any hidden threats. The rain's heavy fall made this difficult, but the trained gunslinger felt confident in his abilities even with the hindrance.

Tuke sits in the carriage flanked by Magenta and Agna, and he can tell by Magenta's body language that the woman is agitated about something. Indeed the tension inside the carriage is almost physical. Gianna breaks the silence first.

"Boiryer. What did Ezra's plaything want this time dear."
Gianna's voice is laced with the venom common to Borcan noble women. It is hard and accusatory.

"Just coin for the services. Death tax. What a horrible thing." Roderigo looks out the carriage window, an expession on his face betraying his annoyance at the question.

"Not that horrible when you impose it upon the peasants."

"Can we not talk about this now? My mood is dark enough as it is, I have no desire to blacken it further."

Gianna nods and looks at Magenta. Tuke notices them exchange looks.

"Perhaps I can have Tuke whistle us a tune, Father. Will that lighten this foul mood of yours?" Magenta ruffles the hair of her halfling servant.