In the solemn dimness of a Venetian study, three kneeling figures await the verdict of their master, Messer Mion. The polished wood, Flemish tapestries, and the scent of oriental tobacco become the backdrop for a confrontation charged with tension and power. Battista, Marina, and young Toni find themselves before an unforgiving man, prisoners of a silence as heavy as a sentence.
The lord's words fall like blades, revealing sins that may be minor, but are destined to leave deep scars. When young Lucia is summoned to appear, the balance between obedience and dignity is shattered, and the shadow of punishment falls over the entire family. In the Mion palace, nothing is simply service or loyalty anymore: every look can betray, every word can destroy. And power, in Venice, always has the slow, inexorable sound of a sentence pronounced amid smoke and silence.
A family of servants stands before the ruthless power of their master. A chapter of tension and fear, where obedience becomes survival and silence the only form of defense
Tales. 1572 – Carnival of Blood. Chapter 15. The Judgment of Palazzo Mion
Three figures knelt before a massive desk, carved from walnut and polished with wax, so large it could have seated twenty people for a banquet.
They kept their eyes lowered, trembling, while the silence of the room seemed to crush them under the weight of a luxury that did not belong to them. The air smelled of incense and aged leather—a blend of sanctity and power. They felt out of place, like intruders in a church consecrated to a god who does not forgive.
The walls were covered in Flemish tapestries crowded with hunting scenes, battles, and knights brandishing gilded swords or beasts chained in gold. The reds and blues of the fabrics blurred in the dim candlelight, while above the desk hung an engraved brass lamp with amber glass panes casting moving shadows across their fearful faces.
To the right, three hand-painted nautical charts depicted seas and continents whose names none of them had ever heard.
They couldn’t read, but the drawings alone told them those maps were worth more than their lives combined.The floor, covered in Oriental rugs, was so soft their knees sank into it like sand. Crimson red intertwined with jade green, midnight blue with golden yellow—geometric motifs that looked like mysterious writings, a language of silk and time.....
