Parsifal the Consiglieri

Vito quickly moved all of Andriu’s wealth, business documents, and magic materials to a vault hidden in a safe house near the slum’s church. The safe house itself didn’t stand out. It was a small shack among other small shacks. However, the walls, door, roof, and windows were reinforced and stronger than even steel, and the crafting skill was required to open the door.

He announced Andriu’s death to the orphans and hurried them to the church for safety. The church was stable and secure, blessed by Ivalis herself if Andriu was correct. It was a humble place, the sort of church someone might find in the countryside, space enough for the clergy to live and work there, but nothing beyond that.

“Please, open your doors! These children need help!” Vito pleaded as he pounded on the church doors.

A young woman in plain white and silver robes opened the door. “Oh my, what’s this?” She brushed silver locks from her face to get a better look at the six unexpected visitors to her church.

“Sir Andriu is dead, and these orphans have lost their guardian. They seek sanctuary,” Vito explained.

“Sir Andriu is dead?” The woman repeated. Vito could sense a slight amount of relief from her. “How did he die?”

“It was a heart attack,” he lied. “His pure and noble heart gave out. I suppose the goddess had need of his kindness in the Eternal Garden.”

The woman looked him over for a moment. “I see. Please, come in.” She opened the second door, allowing them all to file in. “My name is Mayura. I am the priestess of this humble Church of Ivalis.”

“Thank you, Mayura,” Vito said. “Please care for them while I get to work building a better life for all of us. They need more than preaching to heal the wounds both seen and unseen.”

“I see that.” She observed how timid and awkward the orphans were. “What work do you intend to perform, Sir…?” She fished for his name.

“Vito DeCapio,” he introduced himself. “Speak to your goddess, she’s heard of me. I’m a simple businessman with a simple business plan.” He offered a cordial bow and left the church. Mayura had her suspicions, but she could not see wickedness in his heart.

Vito returned to his safe house to make himself more presentable. He did away with Andriu’s copy clothes and turned his attention to the magic materials he recovered, especially the magic wool and leather. He crafted a perfect formal Sicilian suit, socks, and shoes, clothes tough enough to blunt a sword’s strike and slowly heal his wounds. Vito looked at himself in the mirror and finished tying his black tie. “Finally, I look like a proper mafioso.” He crafted a knife with a magic metal stronger than steel and a holster to hide it. Once he was finished with that, he drew up a magic contract for his first recruit: the noble Parsifal.

“Parsifal? It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Vito DeCapio.” Parsifal sat on his step and drank water from an old bottle. An old string barely held back his long brown hair, and he had only an old shirt and pants to maintain some dignity.

“What do you want?” Parsifal sharply asked.

“I’m looking for a consiglieri, a second-in-command for my Family, and I can think of no one better,” Vito replied. “But the way I see it, you deserve a signing bonus. How about I take down Lord Berold Renaudin, the man who framed you for theft when you tried to expose his slave trading operation?”

“Go away.” Parsifal stood up and turned to walk away.

“You should read this first.” Vito shoved the contract into his chest.

“You-!” Parsifal’s anger turned to disbelief. The contract promised to end Renaudin’s slave trade, free his slaves, both human and non-human, and offer them good, honest work. The penalty for failure was Vito’s own life. “All this...just to hire me as the second of some organization?”

“Not ‘some organization,’ the DeCapio Family. I’m building a mafia family, and I want you to help me,” Vito clarified.

“And what is it this Family is meant to do?”

“We’re going to turn the slums into the shining jewel of Kyrenia.”

Parsifal thought him mad. However, his confident smile and the power reflected in his eyes made Parsifal take the quill and sign the contract. The sense of hope that long died in his soul began to stir once again. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

Vito folded the contract and put it in his pocket. “First things first, my consiglieri needs to dress the part. You’re in the DeCapio Family now. We only dress like farm hands when we work on farms.” Parsifal looked down at his clothes for a moment. “You can tell me about a guy named Garrick. I hear he works with the King of Thieves, but I couldn’t find much.”

“Garrick,” Parsifal repeated. He fell into step beside Vito. “He’s a landlord. He gathers information about his tenants and tells Barton if he finds anything valuable or worth stealing. When his tenants inevitably fail to pay their rent, Garrick compels them into service to pay or be cast out into the streets.”

“How does the good Sir Renaudin fit into the plot? His name came up in connection.”

Parsifal bitterly chuckled. “Where do you think they go in service? They’re debt slaves.”

“I’ll handle him first, then. It’ll be a quick trip to silence a landlord and take everything he owns, including the debt contracts.”

Vito changed the door to allow Parsifal to come and go as he pleased, then he crafted a set of nobleman’s clothes, a set of dark blue robes with gold trims, and leather boots, all made using magic materials. Parsifal changed into them after a bath and looked at himself in the mirror. “What now?”

“Take the coins and jewels in that box over there and register the DeCapio Carpentry guild. We’ll need carpenters to rebuild the slum’s infrastructure.”

“And the freed slaves will be the employees?” Parsifal assumed.

“Correct. See if you can find capable carpenters in the slums to train them.” He saw the scepticism in Parsifal’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I intend to build more businesses in the slums. Those who can’t build can cook, clean, or run a shop. You name it, we’ll build it. Come on, I’ll show you our first step.”

Vito led Parsifal to the ruins of a large building on the corner of the main road. He held his hands out and used his crafting skill to form a carpenter’s shop. Parsifal watched in awe as the rubble broke down and reformed into a solid structure where any carpenter would love to work.

“This is a level of crafting skill you’d find working for a noble or even a member of royalty,” he breathed.

“And yet, it’s being put to use here to make this place the kingdom’s crown jewel,” Vito remarked. “I’ll be back by sunset. Hide out in the church if you run into trouble. I think Lady Mayura might be more like us than she is like the clergy.”

“Lady Mayura is more like a Saintess than she is like the clergy,” Parsifal flatly corrected him.

“Regardless, let’s meet up later.” Vito walked away to carry out his end of the deal.