Chapter 12:
For the next two-to-three days, Thomas secretly hitched a ride aboard the carriage as it made its way east. Thomas was eventually forced to abandon the carriage and continue on foot, despite his injury, which was now beginning to fester. Alone in a strange, foreign town, Thomas sought shelter in an abandoned house, where he set himself up a place to sleep. Cold, hungry, and with his shoulder injury untreated, Thomas was not even sure if he would survive the night. Peeling away the dirty cloth he used to cover the wound, Thomas could see the extent of the infection.
"I sure could use you right now, Christine..." whispered Thomas, as he closed his eyes.
Thomas awoke the next day. He found himself lying in a large bed in a brightly lit room decorated with many fancy trinkets. Thomas still felt weak, but he was no longer sick. Someone had treated and stitched up his damaged arm and given him a fresh nightgown to wear. He turned to a nearby nightstand where some fruit lay in a bowl. Without hesitation, Thomas grabbed an orange and began to peel it. At that moment, a man with a fancy suit entered the room.
"You," said Thomas," Where am I?"
The man ignored him and ran out of the room.
"Sir!" he said, "He's awake!"
Thomas watched, confused, as another man entered the room and helped Thomas sit up in his bed.
"Who are you?" demanded Thomas, "How did I get here?"
"Shhh," said the man, "Easy there."
He was an older, medium sized man with a thin, pale face and short brown hair. He had small, baggy eyes, a long nose, and a large goatee.
"Let me see your arm," said the man.
"Um..." began Thomas.
"It's okay," said the man, "My name is Vercci. I am here to help."
"Oh," said Thomas, "My name is Thomas Hunter. Is this your house?"
"Yes," said Vercci, "Well, one of them. This is my summer villa in Saracena. One of my servants found you on the road northwest of here in town on an errand. He took you in and so I had my personal physician to treat you. You are very lucky to be alive."
"Ugh," groaned Thomas, "I must have awoken in the middle of the night and..."
"You had a very high fever, but you should be fine now."
"Thank you," said Thomas.
"Go back to sleep," said Vercci, "You need plenty of rest."
Thomas nodded, then closed his eyes.
Later, Thomas stood on a large balcony staring out at the massive garden that surrounded the villa. Thomas' hair had been cut and his face shaven. He now donned a puffy white shirt with a dark-orange vest over it. As Thomas marveled at the beautiful scenery, a boy of about sixteen or seventeen ran onto the lawn in pursuit of a butterfly. He held a claw-like contraption on each hand. Thomas observed the boy as he attempted to kill the butterfly.
"Enjoying the view?" asked Vercci, who suddenly appeared behind Thomas.
"Oh," said Thomas, "Simply stunning."
"Those olive trees are all mine. It took me a number of years to grow them."
"You don't say...Tell me, who is that young man down there? Is he your son?"
"That is Voldo. The poor soul. His parents perished long ago. All four of his older brothers were killed in the Italian Wars. He is the last of his family."
"Jesus," muttered Thomas.
"I found him living on the streets of Naples and took him, then gave him work as my personal servant. He is the closest thing to a son that I have."
"What are those, er, claws he is wielding?"
"Katars. Ancient Indian weaponry from my personal collection. He has taken quite a liking to them, hm?"
"Well, he's certainly a natural..."
"Come inside, Thomas."
The two walked through the balcony doors. Once inside, they entered Vercci's office with Vercci taking a seat behind his desk. Thomas took the seat in front of the desk.
"What business do you have in Italy?" asked Vercci.
"A simple vacation," lied Thomas, "But then I got shipwrecked and..."
Vercci smirked as he placed the map and the solar compass on his desk.
"Oh," said Thomas, flatly.
"This is more than a vacation," said Vercci, "Isn't it?"
"I should have known there was an ulterior motive to your generosity," said Thomas.
"Listen, Thomas, " began Vercci, "Do you know what they call me? 'The Merchant of Death'. My entire fortune was made from trading rare weapons. As someone who is constant competition with other merchants, my success has always achieved by making friends in all the right places, be it the Spanish Armada, or young Voldo out there."
"So, what then? You're looking to be my friend?"
"Tell me what treasure you found here in Calabria and I will give you any resources you need and even accompany you, so long as I get a cut."
Thomas looked down and took a deep breath. Vercci's offer of friendship was nothing more than a sham; Thomas knew he couldn't refuse, and that Vercci would never allow Soul Edge to be destroyed. That meant he'd have to formulate a plan to break away from the weapons merchant and reach Soul Edge first. After pondering for a few seconds, Thomas made his decision.
"The lost City of Sybaris," said Thomas.
"Excuse me?" said Vercci.
"That's what I'm looking for. The location marked on the map is where the city is. My evidence suggests that the legendary Soul Edge is somewhere in it."
"Now I'm intrigued, yes? I have heard stories of the Soul Edge, but never believed it existed. As a collector of rare weaponry, I must see it!"
"That's what I came here to look for. You say you will help me, then?"
"Indeed. Allow me to prepare. We depart in two hours, so please be ready."
"It's now or never," Thomas thought to himself, "When we get to Sybaris, I must reach Soul Edge first!"