The departure of Baron Valli's herald left a vacuum in the bailey, which was quickly filled by a rising tide of fear. Bastiano looked as if he might faint, and even the battle-hardened Enzo shifted his feet nervously. His men had faced bandits with courage, but the name of the Bishop of Veroli was a different kind of weapon, one against which shields and spears were useless.
Alessandro, however, projected a calm he did not entirely feel. "The Baron is a dog that barks because it cannot bite," he said, his voice steady enough for his men to hear. "He hopes his master will fight his battles for him. Dismissed."
He waved his men back to their duties, maintaining a facade of control. But in the privacy of the tower hall, the mask slipped. He paced before the hearth, his mind racing.
"The Bishop will not send an army," he reasoned aloud, more to convince himself than the terrified Bastiano. "Not yet. An army is expensive and it makes him look like a tyrant. He is a politician. A judge. He will use the law as his weapon. He will summon me."
His prediction proved accurate. Four days later, a message arrived from the Bishop. It was a formal summons, written on a scroll bearing the Bishop's own seal. The document stated that Lord Alessandro de' Falchi was to present himself at the court in Veroli in two weeks' time, there to answer the charges brought by his neighbor, Baron Valli.
The summons was a death sentence in the eyes of his people.
"It is a trap, my lord!" Bastiano pleaded. "The moment you enter Veroli, you will be in his power! He will seize you, and our valley will be leaderless!"
Lorenzo, who had been summoned to the council, slammed a massive fist on the table. "Then I will go with you. Let the Bishop's guards try to seize you when I am standing by your side."
"And what then, Lorenzo?" Alessandro countered, his voice sharp. "You would fight the entire city guard? This is not a battle that can be won with a hammer. It must be won with words and with witnesses. To refuse the summons is to declare myself an outlaw. It would give the Bishop the very pretext he needs to march his army here and take everything. No. I must go."
His decision was absolute. "We will not hide from this accusation," he declared to his small council. "We will face it. We will turn the Bishop's court into our stage, and we will make our case so compelling that he will have no choice but to rule in our favor."
Preparations for the journey began at once. This was a diplomatic mission, not a military one, and every detail mattered. Alessandro carefully chose his delegation. He would take Bastiano, for his dignified bearing and honest eloquence. He would take Enzo, the embodiment of the loyal, hardworking common man who had benefited from his rule. And, most importantly, he would take Giacomo, the peasant from Pietra Secca who had first pleaded for his help. He was the key witness.
For his escort, he chose Marco and only four other soldiers from the Falcon Guard. They were to be a formal escort, not a large military force. Their equipment was well-maintained and their shields were clean, their bearing a sign of their organized training. The days leading up to their departure were spent in careful planning.
He had the Reeve of Pietra Secca, Giacomo, draft a formal testimony, a parchment detailing Baron Valli's neglect and their unanimous, freely given oath of fealty to Rocca Falcone. Alessandro drilled his three witnesses, ensuring their stories were clear, concise, and consistent. He spent his nights crafting his own legal and moral argument, centering it not on his own ambition, but on the fundamental failure of Baron Valli to uphold his feudal contract—a failure that he, as a responsible neighboring lord, had a duty to rectify to maintain stability in the Bishop's own diocese.
His final, most powerful piece of evidence lay just outside the tower walls. The vast fields of grain were no longer green. They were turning a rich, golden color under the summer sun. The harvest, the unprecedented, miraculous harvest that would pay the Bishop's double tithe, was only weeks away.
On the appointed day, the small delegation assembled. Lorenzo was left in command of Rocca Falcone, a sign of absolute trust. He was given charge of the fief's defense and the final construction of the mill.
As Alessandro and his party rode out of the valley, they left behind a home that was both stronger and more vulnerable than ever. They were not riding to battle, but to a trial. A trial where the rules are set by his most powerful and unpredictable opponent. The future of Rocca Falcone will be decided in a Bishop's court.