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𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 nails cut the stuffy air in a single, dismissive motion. Iron door hinges squeaked and scrapped as they opened, closed and let yet another person inside the room.
"State your name and the reason for coming here," Caterina tried to control the monotony of her voice, but as the time ticked on and the clients filtered in and out, she found it harder maintain the same unreserved interest in every issue brought in.
Whose idea was it, for her to accept the audiences as if she was the Pope, hearing the issues and pleads of the poor, begging for a scrap or protection from those above them? Her own, she noted with dismay, but she failed to calculate in the hours of actually sitting and listening.
The woman before her lowered herself in the plump leather chair, keeping a firm shaking grip on the purse in her lap. Her clothing was mismatched, clashing in colours and style, only adding to the fact she must be too poor to afford something up to date.
"My name is Lucia, signorina, and I've been selling me family's produce for years, signorina, at the Bull Ring, paid my fees and all," she took in a breath, adjusting the scarf covering her head.
"But a few months ago this new woman came, put up her stand and started selling her fabrics, fine wool and linen. And then one by one she turned the other women against me, and there's not a day that my stall in not trashed and me greens not sellable no more."
Stefano Ricci, who was the one to bring her the woman in trouble, observed the interaction from the side with quiet admiration. He was one of the first to turn his cloak on one Cardinale and step in the service of another, and he did not regret it for a moment. The woman he now called his boss, his capo, was all the people talked of and more.
One of Caterina's hands rested on her chin, almost grazing her red lip as she listened to the woman like a priest in the confessional, gazing away into the distance, impassive, remote. There was something godly, otherworldly in the way she held herself so arrogantly and yet so humbly at the same time.
She gave her a soft nod as a gesture of human sympathy. "What is her reason to do so?" Her tone prompted the other to speak on.
"My husband. He... He's a good man, gentle and kind, but he's also Chinese and their hatred is so deep rooted they want my family to starve for it. And I can't do anything because she's pays for her protection to Vincente Changretta," Lucia was trembling, silent tears streaming down her gaunt face, pale and weathered with worry.
The mention of his name made the Italian woman stand up a little more straight, finally turning her whole body towards the merchant.
"Why have you come to me instead of Don Cardinale?" Caterina leaned slightly over the desk. Her tone was bland, almost chastising. "You know I'm a part of Shelby Company now, and there is little I can do to intervene in Bull Ring. It's hardly under my jurisdiction."
