The Merchant and Warrior's Memoir

II: Florence

tw: violence, theft, mention of animal death

Two weeks later

Anthelme awoke to the sun rising, hearing the sound of a robin chirping. He was almost there, almost to Florence, though he was exhausted. He hadn't gotten much sleep over the past two weeks, so as soon as he'd seen the city of Florence, he felt so relieved. Dawn was just breaking at this point, as Anthelme was setting up his shoppe.
Along his journey to Florence, Anthelme had found many fun and unusual trinkets and gizmos he was sure somebody would be excited to buy. He found a few documents and short stories, surely someone would enjoy reading. He sent up all of the short stories he found, along with other bits and pieces of jewelry and trinkets. What a beautiful city it was, as Anthelme decided to take a stroll. The city shined like a gem in the heart of Italy, and it truly did fascinate the young lad.
"Ooh, greetings and salutations, my dear fellow!" Said an unknown voice from behind Anthelme. The voice had sounded masculine, and Anthelme turned around to face the man who had spoken to him. Anthelme smiled and greeted him with a bow.
"I couldn't help but notice you alone this morning, you don't seem to be from around here." He said coolly, placing a hand on Anthelme's shoulder. Anthelme nodded.
"Ah-! Yes, well I am from France." He said, starting to sweat. This man was intimidating.
"Oh... A foreigner, then?" Said the man, his smile dropping. Anthelme looked at him, getting nervous.
"Haha! Mhm! Now, if you'd be much so kind, I best be leaving." Anthelme said anxiously, trying to slide away. The man frowned.
"Boys, pin him. Pin the little French boy." He scowled as Anthelme felt himself being slammed against the wall. He saw as two other men had ripped his satchel off of him and the shorter one of the two emptied it. Anthelme watched in horror as the ducats generously given to him by Annora a week prior were snatched away in a few moments. He needed those for his journey to find Beaullime...

After he's gotten his now empty satchel back, Anthelme had gotten the hell out of there as fast as possible. He sighed, much more paranoid now. The feather on his hat drooped comically, matching his mopy expression. He sat next to a fountain now, looking through what he's managed to salvage after the encounter. A little lad ran up to him now. The boy looked no older than 12, so Anthelme softened.
   "Sir! Sir! Good sir!" Said the boy frantically. "You look nice, like you wouldn't hurt me... I need your help!" He said sadly. Anthelme's gazed softened.
   "Oh? What's your name? You need my help with something?" Asked Anthelme to the boy. The boy looked like a relatively normal boy. He has dusty blonde hair and pale, heterochromic eyes. He has relatively tan skin, and a face full of freckles. Anthelme could tell this boy had been outside a while. His fashion, however, was clearly indistinguishable, flamboyant and erratic.
   "Me? Oh, my name is Castellan. After my father. My sister, Bertrada, I can't find her! She was taking me around Florence, and I had gone to pick flowers for a moment, and when I had came back to the fountain she had gone off somewhere!" He sounded frantic. Anthelme felt worried for the boy, and agreed to help.
   "Yes, Castellan, I can help you find Bertrada." He said to the boy. Castellan looked really relieved.
   Upon searching all over Florence, and Anthelme telling Castellan the many stories he's experienced and all the individuals he's encountered over the years, Anthelme and Castellan found Bertrada outside of a leather shop.
   "Bertrada!" Said Castellan happily. "We've finally found you!" The boy hugged his older sister, who seemed to be around the same age as Anthelme. Bertrada sighed a sigh of relief
   "Oh, thank the Lord," said Bertrada. "Don't run off like that, okay, Castellan? Mother and Father would be worried sick if I had come home and said you'd been lost." Bertrada slightly patted Castellan on the head, looking up at Anthelme.
   "Ah! You must be the young gentleman who's helped my innative brother find me, yes?" She asked him. Anthelme nodded.
   "Er, yes. Anthelme Aloïs, splendid to meet you, pleasure is mine." He said with a bow.
   "Ah, well it's much better you found my dear brother than some man with malevolent intentions." Smiled Bertrada, seeming quite thankful for Anthelme returning Castellan. Anthelme nodded.
   "Ah, thank you." Said Anthelme. "I best be going now. Au revoir, madame." He said with a polite head nod as he left Castellan and Bertrada.

   Anthelme thought to himself. Bertrada wasn't the only one who's missing their brother. Anthelme had decided to get back on track, mapping out in his mind the best way to reunite with his dear Beaullime, or to at least get closure as if he's still alive. Anthelme reminisced back to his childhood, as he had one very particular memory with Beaullime that had stuck out.
   It was a December night, Anthelme was 14 and Beaullime was 10, and their father had been teaching them some of his favorite swordsmanship techniques. Beaullime had gotten a bit... Colorful, with the sword, having accidentally dropped it, slicing a snake. It was a small snake, horrifying, like the Devil's tail, but it was still cute, Anthelme still felt terrible for the poor guy. Beaullime had felt guilty, too, judging by the look on his face.
   Reminiscing the memory had encouraged Anthelme even more, as he opened up his map of Europe, that had been torn, battered, and stained with blue ink from the years Anthelme has used it. This time, Anthelme dipped a quill in red ink, and labelled all the cities he'd have the best chance of finding his adventure-craving crusading brother. Anthelme circled the cities to start, which a few ones stood out to him. The Roman city of Constantinople, and the German city of Hamburg had stood out to him. Constantinople because of so much importance of the city in the currently ongoing Crusades, and Hamburg because the city had interested Beaullime, and he had mentioned it many times before deciding on Saxony.
   Anthelme put the map back in his satchel, and exhaled. Yes, it was unlikely he would find Beaullime in either of those cities, but perhaps if he could talk to the locals he'd get a head start. He was going to find Beaullime if it where the last thing he did.

   Scrap selling his wares in Rome, Anthelme Aloïs, the innocent wandering French merchant, was off to Constantinople.