"Ever want to forget something so bad you don't care about the results?" Harry sighed, "I was thinking and I wanted to stop, In hindsight there were better ways to do that but I don't suppose that matters now."
"No I don't suppose it does," Schmitt nodded, "thank you Mr. Black."
"No problem," Harry tried opening his eyes and immediately regretted it as it felt like two hot irons were being thrust through his eye sockets into his skull. "I'll take a look at the book in a few minutes and give you my answer after that."
"All I ask is that you consider it," Schmitt replied, closing the door.
"How do I get myself into these situations," Harry asked himself as he finally managed to sit up, "might as well start."
The first thing a wizard must learn if he is to become skilled at checking, removing, and em placing wards is how to activate their mage sight. First one must imagine magic gathering in the center of their body, then one must (for lack of a better term) push the magic up through their body and into their eyes. After that it is a simple matter of practice and in time a skilled practitioner will be able to call upon their mage sight almost without effort.
"Seems easy enough," Harry mused to himself as he began to gather the necessary focus, "and now I just . . . . argelmarther," he bit down on an agonizing scream. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to increase the sensitivity of one's eyes when they felt like they had been used as the balls in a dozen games of Ping-Pong.
Harry spent several minutes writhing on the floor before he managed to regain enough of himself to read the next sentence.
Warning: DO NOT attempt to do this if you are suffering from a hangover. Doing so will cause intense pain, and WILL cause one or more of the following side effects. Blindness, Insanity, deafness, neurosis, death. In rare cases, it can sometimes grant the victim an advanced form of mage sight.
Harry spent several more minutes cursing the authors of the book and their stupidity for placing such an important warning at the bottom of the page.
Checking himself out, Harry was pleased to discover that he could not find any sign that he was blind, Insane, deaf, suffering from neurosis, or dead. Shrugging his shoulders at his good fortune, Harry was distracted by a knock at the door.
"Yes?"
"Got the things you requested Mr. Black," another man wearing an odd striped uniform pushed a cart into the room, "I was also told to inform you that the wards that you are being asked to inspect are the Arachne type."
"Thank you," Harry nodded downing a handful of painkillers and antacids, "was there anything else you needed?"
"No Mr. Black." The man in the odd uniform left, closing the door behind himself.
Turning back to the book on wards, Harry began to read.
Arachne type wards get their name from the fact that when viewed with mage sight, they appear to be a spider web emanating from a central key object. Like a spider web, these wards form complex patterns that must be mapped ahead of time. These maps will indicate the ward's intended purpose to a person skilled at placing wards and should be checked against the finished product to insure that the pattern was not changed when the ward was placed. Arachne type wards suffer from two major drawbacks. The first is that they are vulnerable to the destruction of their central key object, the second is that their range is limited to a radius of no more than a few kilometers from their center.
Taking a few minutes to flip through the rest of the book, Harry was startled by another knock at the door.
"Come in," Harry looked up from his reading.
"Have you decided whether or not you were going to inspect our wards?" Schmitt asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I'd be happy to," Harry agreed, "on the condition that you get another person to check my results later."
That condition will not be a problem Mr. Black," Schmitt agreed quickly, "I suppose that we should discuss payment before you begin."
"If you like," Harry shrugged.
"We will deposit a sum of twelve hundred ducats into the account of your choice for your work. Is that sum sufficient?"
"Yes," Harry nodded, wondering what a ducat was.
"Which bank would you prefer us to deposit your payment into?"
"Um . . ." Harry hesitated, not wanting to give the man his real name.
Seeing Harry's hesitation, Schmitt was quick to offer a solution. "If you like, we would be happy to arrange a new private account with the gnomes."
"Sure," Harry agreed quickly, "just give me the account information later."
"Walk this way then," Schmitt led Harry through several hallways until the two of them stood before a large statue. "We just need you to check the repairs that were made to the center of the wards around the key, they were damaged by the vandal along with Pieta and I would like to insure that the repairs were not tampered with."
"Can I see the schematics?" Harry held out his hand for the map of the wards.
"Of course," Schmitt agreed, handing over the document.
Harry spent several minutes examining both the plan and the actual wards, "everything seems to be in order except . . ."
"Except what?" Schmitt asked nervously.
"The newer sections are a different color then the rest of the wards," Harry squinted at the plans, "the plans don't say anything about it one way or another but if I were you I would get them looked at."
"Thank you Mr. Black we will," agreed Schmitt, "would you like a tour of the grounds before you go?"
"I would," Harry smiled. "I can't wait to see some of the things that I heard were housed here."
Schmitt proved to be a very knowledgeable tour guide, often providing bits of trivia to accompany his lectures about a piece's history and by the end of the tour Harry had a rather large grin on his face.
"It seems that we have reached the exit Mr. Black," Schmitt smiled, "do you have any more questions?"
"Just one," Harry nodded, "who was the second man in your story about the stone?"
"The second man?" Schmitt paused to think. "The man with great ability, he was the same man that designed my uniform."
"Thank you," Harry nodded politely, silently doubting the artistic ability of any man who would design a uniform like the one being worn by his new friend. "And goodbye."
"Goodbye Mr. Black."
With that, Harry stepped out to explore the streets of the Eternal City intent on seeing everything that Rome had to offer . . . for about five minutes, then he realized how tired he was from checking out the wards. Raising his hand to hail a cab, he decided to get a day or two of rest before setting out to see the city's sights.
Harry awoke late the next day and ate an early lunch in the hotel lobby, walking back to his room he decided to put off his exploration of the city in favor of resting another day.
Waking late the next morning, Harry decided that he had spent enough time laying around and pulled out his book to get instructions on how to enter Rome's magical districts.
-One of the most accessible magical districts is the Via Veneficus, this district can be reached from nearly anywhere in Rome. To enter, one must find a three-way cross roads, after a few moments a fourth road will appear. Many of these entrances in the old city are also marked with a statue or image of Trivia, a three headed woman; one of a dog, one of a snake, and one of a horse.-
Returning his guidebook to its section of his pack, Harry walked out of his hotel to find the nearest entrance. Which happened to be less then twenty meters from his hotel, shrugging his shoulders Harry entered Rome's magical section.
And ended up facing a shop named Curios and Relics, unable to contain his curiosity Harry entered the shop.
"Good afternoon Sir, how may I help you?" The shopkeep looked up from behind the counter.
"I saw the sign and I was wondering what you sold here?" Harry looked around the dim space noting what appeared to be farming implements, oddly shaped trumpets and other items that he couldn't identify.
"I sell all kinds of different things," the shopkeep rummaged around behind the counter, "I do have one thing that I think will draw your interest."
"What's that?"
"A Pugio," the man pulled out an oddly shaped dagger. "It's an interesting little item that I picked up some time ago, it carries charms to remain ever sharp, ever new, and to remain unnoticed so long as it sits on your hip. I believe it would be a good thing for you to buy."
"How much?" Harry asked, eyeing the odd looking dagger.
"I paid about fifty sestereius for it . . . so, I suppose I could sell it to you for say . . . two aureus?"
"Deal," Harry nodded, handing over a few golden coins. "Have a nice day."
"You as well sir," the shopkeeper nodded back.
Walking out of the store, Harry spent several minutes walking through the marketplace until an odd conversation drew his attention.
"Did you hear about the British Minister?" A fishmonger commented to one of his customers, "says he's gonna explain why his government hasn't done anything about that dark lord. Wants ta drop a few excuses as ta why they shouldn't throw him out."
"I doubt he has anything to say, but it might be interesting to hear it." The customer replied, "it's too bad I don't have time to go home and turn on the Wireless."
"You don't have ta go home," the fishmonger waved off his customer's objections, "just go into one of the bars around here. Most of them will be playing the speech."
Harry nodded to himself, that seemed like a good idea walking towards the nearest drinking establishment he took one look around and walked in.
Glancing around the darkened smoke filled room, Harry walked towards the nearest empty seat.
"Mind if I sit here?" Harry asked, gesturing to an empty seat next to an old man. "I'd like to hear what Fudge has to say."
"If you like," the old man gave a slight nod.
The two of them listened for a few moments as the voice of the Wizard Wireless reported Fudge's announcement the only reason that the forces of the Ministry had not yet triumphed was because organized crime had joined the cause of, 'he who must not be named.' Causing his ranks to swell and forcing the Ministry's forces to suffer a temporary setback.
"What do you think of the English Minister's announcement, Mr.?"
"Black, I think the man's an idiot." Harry shook his head not noticing the shocked look on the old man's face, as he signaled the bartender to bring him a drink. "From what I understand, the people that control magical organized crime are much too intelligent to join the Dark Moron."
"What makes you say that?" The old man leaned forward in interest.
"The activities of the Magical Syndicates tend to be nonviolent, their business is making money and killing people for no reason doesn't make a lot of money." Harry took a sip of his newly arrived drink, "what deaths do occur are usually criminals killing criminals."
"Why wouldn't they join the Dark Lord for the money and Power he could offer?"
"As I said before, most of the deaths that occur are criminals killing criminals. Law Enforcement doesn't tend to worry about that sort of thing, if they were to start bothering innocent people." Harry's voice became cold, "then I suspect that the kid gloves would come off and it would be a bloodbath. If they want to join a war then they will have to be prepared to accept all that war entails."
"I see," the old man nodded. "Thank you for your advice Mr. Black."
"Happy to give it," Harry's cheerful mood returned. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really only came in here to hear Fudge's announcement and since it's over . . ."
"Of course," the old man nodded. "I realize that you must be a very busy man, and as thanks for your advice please allow me to pay for your drink."
"Thank you," Harry nodded, "and do have a good day."
The old man waited until his guest had left the bar before turning to the man next to him. "Call the other heads together, we need to have a meeting."
"What do you want us to do about the guy that just talked to you?"
"You will do nothing," the old man replied quickly.
"But sir," the thug protested. "He insulted you."
"He did no such thing," the old man took a sip from his glass, "in his eyes he was showing mercy and restraint. And I have no wish to see what happens if we don't take his warning to heart."
"What do you mean sir?"
"Didn't you hear his name?" The old man glanced over, "Mr. Black is one of the most dangerous men in Europe and if he works for the kind of people that I suspect, then even if you managed to kill him . . ." The old man shuddered.
"But sir," the thug was still a bit confused. "Why are you taking things so seriously?"
"Because I listened to what he had to say," the old man sighed. "As I said, in his eyes he was showing mercy. He took the time to come in here and inform me of the new rules that he expects us to follow, don't join the Dark Lord and don't kill anybody outside the family's. He calmly told us what would happen if we did not follow his rules, he could have just wiped us out and started over with whoever took our place."
"He's really that powerful Sir?" The thug was beginning to feel sick as he considered the fact that he had volunteered to go after Mr. Black, to 'teach him a lesson.'
"He walked into this bar, sat next to me, and told me how things were going to be." The old man grinned, "nobody would do something like that unless they had the power to back it up."
Outside, several members of the team assigned to watch one of the most powerful men in Italy's underworld were frozen in shock.
"Tony, you and Agatha follow Black. Antonio, you go report this." The team leader licked his lips, "I . . . I'll watch the bar."
Pandemonium erupted at the headquarters of the Praetorian guard when a wide eyed officer arrived and immediately ran to their superior's office.
"Sir," Antonio banged on the door to the Praefectus pratorio, "sir you have to hear this."
"Come in," a stern grey haired man with a military bearing opened the door, "and this had better be good."
"Sir, Mr. Black is in Rome," the breathless officer rushed out.
"And why did this cause you to go banging on the door of my office like that?" The Praefectus pratorio asked with false calm.
"Because he walked into Alberto Nachelli's bar and told him that if he didn't obey a few rules, then there would be a bloodbath."
"What did Nachelli do?"
"He thanked Mr. Black for the advice and called a meeting of the family's," Antonio's hands were shaking. "He also told one of his subordinates that they were going to follow Black's orders, said that even if they managed to off black, that they would still have to deal with the people he works for."
"Good work, sit down and have something to drink." The Praefectus pratorio stuck his head out of his office, "get a dozen men to back up the group watching Nachelli's bar and call in all off duty officers."
"Yes Sir," several voices replied as the men rushed to follow their commander's instructions.
"Now," The Praefectus pratorio closed the door of his office and looked at his man. "Tell me everything that happened."
"Yes sir, Black walked into the bar and sat next to Nachelli. They listened to Fudge's speech for a little while and Black said that Fudge was an idiot when it got to the part where Fudge said that the Mafia had joined up with the Dark Lord." The man paused to catch his breath, "Black said that if that happened then there would be a bloodbath, said that so long as the Mafia focused on making money and confined its killings to other members of the families then he would leave them alone."
"How did Nachelli react?"
"He thanked Black and paid for his drink," Antonio shook his head. "One of his men wanted to go after Black but Nachelli stopped him, said that Black was trying to show mercy by laying down the rules and that he could have just killed them all as an object lesson to the next group."
"Good work, get to the break room and take a few hours for yourself."
"Sir, if it's alright I'd rather go back to my post." Antonio licked his lips nervously, "the captain is still there and I'd rather not leave him alone."
"I understand," The Praefectus pratorio nodded. "Go."
"Thank you Sir," Antonio called out over his shoulder as he ran to the nearest apparition point.
"Sir," another man ran up. "I need to talk to you about something."
"Make it quick Folchini," The Praefectus pratorio growled. "We're in the middle of something here."
"I just spoke to Gunter Schmitt about the wards," Folchini was bursting with excitement. "The man they hired to check our work said that the colors were different between the old sections and the new sections."
"So?"
"So mage sight is normally in black and white." Folchini replied quickly, "the ability to see color indicates that the man they hired did something unbelievably dangerous to get that ability."
"Why is this so important?" The Praefectus pratorio rubbed his eyes, "I don't see why this couldn't wait until after we dealt with this latest crisis Black dropped into our laps. "
"Because," Folchini smiled. "The name of the man they hired was Mr. Black."
"Tell me everything."
"They met with Black and he told them that he didn't know much about wards, so they pulled one of the books out of the archives and gave it to him to brush up."
"Could be that he just wanted to get a peak at that book," the Praefectus pratorio mused to himself. "Or it could be that by his standards he doesn't know much, continue."
"He spent a few hours flipping through the book, and a few more checking the wards." Folchini checked his notes, "then Schmitt took him on a tour of the grounds. Black left after that."
"When was this?"
"Three days ago sir."
"So we've had Black wandering around my city doing god knows what for two days," the Praefectus pratorio forced himself to calm. "See if you can find out what he did, check the files to see if anything strange happened and report to me when I get back."