Chapter 871: The Disappearing Medici Family
East of Venice.
The city of Treviso.
"This court rules in favor of the plaintiff, Mr. Matthes Albesio."
The judge, wearing a look of stern authority, rapped his wooden gavel against the bench. "Silence!" He then pointed toward the elderly man in his sixties sitting in the defendant's chair. "Mr. Adrian Casanova, you must vacate and transfer the house in the south of the city to Mr. Albesio within one week. Failure to do so will result in a sentence of imprisonment or public flogging."
"They are liars!" a boy of eight or nine suddenly shouted, standing up behind Casanova. "I can testify for my grandfather..."
Two court bailiffs immediately restrained the child and looked up at the judge. "Shall we lock the brat up, Your Honor?"
The elder Casanova frantically pleaded with the judge. "Please, he is only a child. Forgive his outburst. I will vacate the house immediately upon my return..."
A stout, pale man sitting in the plaintiff's seat said coldly, "No. According to our agreement, the contents of the house also belong to me. You only need to sign the transfer documents."
The old man whipped his head around to face him, shouting, "Even if that agreement were genuine, it only mentioned mortgaging the property! The items inside were left to me by my grandmother! You cannot take them!"
The judge struck his gavel without a second thought. "The court sustains your claim. The house at 71 Orléans Street will be sealed immediately after adjournment until the transfer is complete."
The young boy struggled, screaming, "This isn't fair! You must have taken their money! Those paintings don't belong to them..."
A bailiff silenced him with a sharp slap across the face, cutting off his words.
The judge spared the boy a cold glance and hammered his gavel again. "What was his name? Doesn't matter, he's a Casanova. For contempt of court, I sentence you to three months in prison."
Casanova lost all composure. He dropped to his knees before the judge, begging, "For the love of God, please let him go! I'll give up everything! The house, the paintings—Mr. Albesio can have it all!"
The judge ignored him, rising from his seat. "Court is adjourned."
The old man walked out of the Treviso District Court like a man who had lost his soul, his eyes rimmed with red.
He looked toward the Holy See's cathedral at the far end of the street, traced a cross over his chest, and whispered, "Almighty God, Ricardo is so young. Please, for the sake of the Casanova family—no, for the sake of the Medici name—grant us your mercy..."
Two menacing thugs approached him. Casanova recognized them as Albesio's hired muscle.
"Old man, get in the carriage," one of the thugs said, gesturing behind him. "Sign the transfer papers first."
He reached out to grab Casanova by the collar.
At that moment, a Jewel VI carriage pulled up beside them. A man dressed in sophisticated attire with distinct Gallic features stepped out. He walked briskly toward Casanova and offered a slight bow. "If I am not mistaken, you are Mr. Adrian Casanova?"
The old man nodded nervously. "I am, distinguished sir."
"If I may be so bold as to ask, was your father's name Paolo Ferdinando Casanova?"
"Yes, sir. That was indeed my father."
"Excellent." The Frenchman nodded with a smile, speaking in somewhat labored Italian. "An old friend of yours would like to invite you to Florence."
Casanova immediately became guarded. He had previously been far too trusting of Albesio, mortgaging his home to invest in the so-called 'steamship shipping industry,' which had left him penniless and drowning in debt.
Albesio's thugs began to bark, "What do you think you're doing? This old geezer owes our master money. He's not going anywhere until the business is settled!"
The Frenchman frowned slightly, using his body to shield the old man. He asked Casanova kindly, "It seems you've encountered some trouble?"
The elder sighed. "I was swindled. The court ruled against me, and I must settle my debts."
The Frenchman hesitated for a moment before asking, "And how much is required?"
"Eighteen hundred Ducats..." the old man murmured.
Eighteen hundred Ducats was over sixteen thousand Francs. The Frenchman was clearly a bit taken aback, but he turned to the thug and said, "Someone will come to settle this matter. For now, I must take Mr. Casanova with me."
"The hell you will!"
The thug reached for the club behind his back, but the Frenchman's walking stick was already pressed firmly against his chest.
From a nearby carriage, Albesio shouted in frustration, "What are you doing?"
"Master, some foreigner is trying to take Casanova!" the thug called back.
"Useless idiots! Get rid of him!"
"Yes, Master!" The two thugs immediately brandished their clubs.
The Frenchman sighed. With a swift jab and a sweeping arc of his cane, the two men collapsed, clutching themselves in pain.
"Incompetents!" Albesio roared, and four more thugs instantly surrounded the group.
The door of the Jewel VI carriage swung open, and two men in black suits stepped out. They drew pistols and aimed them at the thugs, speaking in French: "Sir, please depart first."
The Frenchman with the cane gestured again for Casanova to follow. "Your old friend is waiting."
The old man looked at the black-suited men's pistols and suddenly dug in his heels. "No! Not unless you take Ricardo as well!"
"Ricardo?"
"My grandson."
The Frenchman narrowed his eyes. "Does he also carry the Medici bloodline?"
The old man startled, hesitating for a moment before nodding. "Yes... yes, he does."
"Where is he?"
"In the court's holding cells."
"Very well. I promise you, you will see him shortly. For now, please come with me."
At three o'clock that afternoon, in the room of Mr. Hahn—the Gallic gentleman—Casanova was reunited with his grandson.
He embraced the boy joyfully, then bowed to Mr. Hahn in gratitude. "You are a truly good man. May God bless you. How did you manage to get Ricardo out?"
"Well... I offered the judge some very persuasive advice," Hahn replied. In his head, he added, 'The pistol is quite excellent at persuasion.'
Casanova bowed again in thanks. He then looked around at the several men in black in the room and asked Hahn, "You mentioned earlier that you wanted me to go to Florence for something very important?"
"Yes, Mr. Casanova." Hahn paused and then shook his head. "Actually, I would prefer to address you as Lord Medici. And my friend's intention is to help you restore the glory of the House of Medici."
"Restore... the Medici family?" Casanova stood frozen.
He had only heard those words from his grandmother when he was very small. He hadn't heard them again for over half a century.
It was true. He was the descendant of the only illegitimate son of the last princess of the family, Anna Maria Luisa de' Medici.
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