Irenicon by Aidan Harte

crossed in front of a charging hog emblazoned with the robust motto:
    Who Shall Divide Us?
    “Thank the Virgin,” the Scarecrow laughed, “this must be Tower Bardini. I’m almost out of ammunition.”
    The Doctor was watching from the workshop entrance while Sofia told him about this morning’s events. In her excitement, their quarrel was quite forgotten. Sofia was not easily impressed, but this young engineer had apparently managed it, and the Doctor was curious to meet him.
    “Call off your hounds, Signore!” a voice called out.
    “Don’t tell me a condottiere doesn’t know the quickest way to break a siege?” he responded.
    The Scarecrow sighed, “I thought as much,” and threw his purse to one of the beggars. “Boy! Yours—if you can keep it!”
    The luckless child bolted with his fellows in fast pursuit. As the men tied up their horses, the Doctor whispered to Sofia, “I’d rather a certain Concordian did not see us fraternize with these gentlemen.”
    “I’ll get him out of the workshop.”
    “Then send for Guercho. I need to confer before the meeting.”
    Sofia looked at the strangers. “Why are they dressed like that? We’re not at war, yet.” There was almost a family resemblance between her and the Doctor as she stood with arms crossed and studied the strangers with a cool distance.
    “It’s to advertise their profession.”
    “What do they want?” she said with distaste.
    “Gainful employment, I fear. I’ll show them the view first.”
    The Doctor waved her off and advanced with a smile and a bow. “Gentlemen, welcome. Doctor Bardini at your service.”
    The Scarecrow gave a neat bow. “My name’s Colonel Levi; this is Colonel Scarpelli.”
    Scarpelli removed his plumed helmet to reveal a neat but old-fashioned bowl cut like some militant monk of a century earlier. He did not bow, and if the Doctor was offended, he hid it well.
    “Would you prefer to talk privately or have you time to take a tour of the workshop?”
    “How about it, Levi? I know I’ve always wanted to see how tough Rasenneisi really are.”
    The Doctor looked up at Scarpelli with a bland smile and recognized a killer. The condottiere towered over him by more than a braccia, and his arms were sculpted muscle. He was balanced—and ready, too.
    Levi laughingly interrupted the face-off. “Perhaps later, Doctor. First let’s talk.”
    As the Doctor led the way up the endless stairway, Levi systematically complimented Rasenna’s history, architecture, food, women, and fighters until Scarpelli interrupted, “It’s true, then? You train Concordians?”
    The Doctor turned on the step. “I do.”
    In the moment’s silence, Levi became aware how high they’d climbed and how far they could fall and laughed. “I’m sure you have your reasons.”
    The Doctor ignored him. “Whatever your opinion of engineers, Colonel Scarpelli, you will agree they are sensible. Forgivemy crudity, but the Guild uses their nobility like a stud farm. Blue blood means nothing to them, but it’s respected by the scum who make up the infantry. Officer selection is competitive, so Families who can afford it send their boys here.”
    “I don’t doubt Concord’s policy is sensible. I merely ask how you stomach training the enemy.”
    The Doctor nearly smiled. “Rasenna’s not important enough to have enemies anymore. If one must be a servant, is it not better to be a useful one?”
    Scarpelli looked stony-faced at the Doctor.
    “A sensible attitude,” said Levi.
    The Doctor grunted, as indifferent to flattery as to antagonism, and continued up.
    Levi hung back and whispered, “ Madonna , Scarpelli! If you can’t be polite, behave.”
    The other spit, “Why are we here? It’s pointless begging from beggars.”
    Cat was waiting on the roof for the strangers. As Levi admired the view, it rubbed against his legs with a friendly whine, hoping for a bribe. For a rude soldier he was indecorously handsome, though hardly any part of him