A/N: Part Two.

Also, please review? It lets me know I'm doing something right. And a thank you to all those who reviewed the previous chapter!

Seta Moneta

-2-

When Ludwig first heard about the Caffe Veneziano, he couldn't help but feel as though his life was about to get really strange. When Gilbert had told him about the favor Antonio had called in, he hadn't really minded—after all, Antonio had never really bothered him, unlike that weird French guy.

So he had called Kiku—his business partner—and asked if the man would want to accompany him to Italy. There was probably no need to call the Japanese man at all, but it was better to have the company, for all that both of them were so quiet.

Besides, Kiku had been to Italy before. He was apparently a great fan of the art and culture Italy provided, and was as ecstatic as he had ever sounded when he replied to Ludwig's invitation.

But now, the hotel room Ludwig was staying in was beginning to feel stuffy, and Kiku was off at some art display, leaving him on his own. The German decided that it would be a good idea to take a walk, maybe learn what he could about the area.

And so here he was, aimlessly roaming the streets of Italy. It was refreshing, to say the least, and very beautiful. But it was very different from his homeland Germany, and to Ludwig, different did not always mean exciting. He thought his country was beautiful enough in its own way.

Ludwig stopped to read a sign—what looked like a menu—that was in Italian, testing out the limited vocabulary he had crammed into his mind on the airplane trip over. He was just deciphering the first sentence when he heard someone singing. This was not really that new—he had seen quite a few street musicians on his walk from the hotel to here, wherever 'here' was. But this man—he thought it was a man's voice—who was singing sounded different, for some reason, and the sound was coming from an alleyway.

Ludwig grew curious and looked around the corner. Indeed, there was a man there, sweeping up some type of spill—it looked like a bag of grain had tipped over—and singing. The song was soft, and childish in a way.

Frantically, he tried to think of the word for hello in Italian. "B-Buon giorno," he said. The man startled, and tripped backwards, into an open (but thankfully empty) crate of tomatoes.

"Ve," he said, starting to laugh. "You scared me!"

Ludwig was glad to hear English, as he wasn't sure how to say sorry yet in Italian. "My apologies," he said in English instead, helping the man out of the crate. The Italian was shorter, but not by much, with a round face and scraggly brown hair. One strand rose up from the top of his head and curled.

"It's alright," the man said, brushing himself off and picking up the broom. "It's just… you said good morning, and I had thought it was afternoon, and wondered just how long I had been out here!"

Ludwig looked shamefaced. "I'm sorry, my Italian is not that… good. I mean, I'm new here… to this country, and… er…"

"Ve, a tourist? That's so exciting! Where are you from? Do you love Italy or do you love it?"

Ludwig wasn't sure where to start. "Er, I'm from Germany, um, yes, Italy is a very beautiful country?"

"Do you like pasta?" The Italian paused for a moment and smiled. "I don't even know your name! Mine's Feliciano! Feliciano Vargas!"

The name struck a chord in the German. "Oh," he said. "I think I was supposed to be looking for you."

That confused the Italian slightly, although the silly grin remained on his face. "Ve, looking for me? What does that mean?"

"Uh, sorry, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Ludwig, the one who is supposed to be helping you save your business."

Feliciano's face lit up in recognition. "Really? Wow, I was expecting some old guy in a suit!"

Ludwig looked down at the tie and jacket he wore. "Yes, well…"

"Never mind, I'm sure you want to come and take a look inside, right?"

"Er, that would be… yes."

Feliciano led the German through a side door that opened to the kitchens. The restaurant was open; it had to be so they could bring in all the customers they could get. Romano and the other cook, a grumpy old man (who made excellent tiramisu) named Alonzo, were there working.

"Romano!" Feliciano cried upon seeing his brother. "Look who came!"

Romano turned from where he was stirring the alfredo sauce and glared at Ludwig. "Who's this?"

"This is Ludwig, the guy who's gonna help us. He said so himself!"

Ludwig didn't really remember saying anything to that extent, but he waved a polite hello to the other Italians anyways. Romano continued to glare, although there was significantly less fire behind it this time.

"Oh, well… show him around the restaurant then. Let him decide for himself whether we're a hopeless cause or not."

"Ve, alright!"

Ludwig was then pulled to through the swing doors and into the dining area, where four or five people sat enjoying a mid-morning brunch. They all smiled politely when they saw Feliciano come through the doors, glanced warily at the large man beside him, and returned to eating. Ludwig assumed they were regulars.

Feliciano clearly wanted to talk to a few of them, but he also looked determined to stay on task, and he led Ludwig to the front of the restaurant, where a nervous middle-aged woman was waiting to seat people.

"Hello, Maria. This is Ludwig, he's helping our restaurant!" She looked confused, and Feliciano repeated the same thing—or at least what Ludwig assumed was the same thing—in Italian to her.

Maria's made-up eyes widened when she looked up at Ludwig, and she glanced back down nervously at the menus.

"Maria and Alonzo are the only people still with us," Feliciano explained. "We're very lucky to have them."

"Yes, you are," Ludwig nodded sagely. "But who waits the tables?"

"Ah, that's me!" Feliciano said excitedly. "And Romano, sometimes, but he usually likes to stay in the kitchen. I'm better with people."

Ludwig knew that he probably didn't know Feliciano's brother that much but felt that he could agree with that statement. Feliciano seemed to radiate friendliness and approachability. Ludwig was glad that he would be working with him, despite the peculiarity—he had seen a lot of different people on this job, but Feliciano was refreshing.

"Come on," Feliciano continued, tugging on Ludwig's forearm. "I'll show you the front!"

Ludwig allowed himself to be pulled through another set of doors. Glancing back, he thought he saw a smile flicker across Maria's face. She was probably used to her boss's strange antics by now, he thought, though he was unsure if he would ever get used to being… touched so much. It was unnerving—most people were frightened by his large looks, serious demeanor, and general aura of getting-down-to-business. Besides, he drank a lot, though of course he never did that in front of clients.

The front of the store was indeed very nice. The windows were spotless, and inviting in that you could see the customers clearly enjoying themselves. A menu—the one Ludwig had been reading earlier—was painted onto a green chalkboard, and the restaurant's name was hung above the door. Ludwig saw nothing wrong with it.

"Ve, what are you thinking about?" Feliciano said after a while.

"I'm thinking about how I can help you. You seem to be doing everything right."

"That's good!" Feliciano exclaimed. Then, his face fell. "But we're clearly doing something wrong. Business used to be so good, and we didn't really have to worry about anything. But now… I look at money differently, I think. It's not that we used to be… what's the word?"

"Frivolous?" Ludwig guessed. That was usually a recurring theme he saw in his clients who used to have a lot of money and suddenly found they were struggling just for pennies.

"Ve, but we weren't! We cared about money, but we didn't stress over it." He hesitated. "I'd like to thank you for doing this. I don't know if you can help us—Romano thinks it's a hopeless case—but I still think you're very brave to help people… like us."

Ludwig smiled. "I've often found that the people in these situations are those who least deserve it. Of course I want to help them."

Feliciano smiled back, but there was something behind it that made Ludwig slightly nervous. "That's nice," he said.

They stood in silence for a moment more, staring at different things, when suddenly Feliciano started to hum. Ludwig recognized it.

"You were singing that earlier," he said. Feliciano turned to him and nodded.

"My grandfather used to sing it to me and Romano when we were little. It's called Seta Moneta—'silk money'."

"It's sounds beautiful. What does it mean?"

"Do you know," Feliciano said. "I don't think it means anything."