~~~

Professore Aldo Stern sat gazing out the large, arched window towards the impossibly blue sea, his long fingers curled around the warmth of what was undoubtedly just the first of many cups of coffee he was going to go through in the course of his day. Yes, it was just the first, but that initial serving of thick, rich brew was always the best.

As he took another sip, his mind briefly flickered back to his musty classroom at the University in Torino.

He had been in Melioria for only a month or so, serving as a member of the Regency Council, adminstering the island on behalf of the missing--and hopefully not deceased--Principe Eslwit. Yet already, that grim and airless lecture hall seemed like nothing more than a vague, half-remembered dream--something that had been imagined, rather than actually experienced. He grimaced slightly, wishing he could forget about that last batch of first year law students.

"Wretched clotpolls ," he thought. "If they had displayed but half the wit and a fourth of the ambition that these Melioria apprentice boys have been demonstrating, I might have considered refusing the appointment to this council."

But he knew that would have been unlikely. In fact. the students meandering in and out of his classroom for the last few years had been an unrelentingly inadequate lot. The odds would have been slim to none for this year's crop to have been any better. And to be honest, he had been entranced by Melioria since the first time he had seen it, back a number of years before, when the bankers from Brussels had brought him here to consult with the Principe on a variety of legal matters. Given the chance to return, even under these doleful circumstances, he had jumped at the opportunity.

Melioriawas simply one of the most exquisitely beautiful places he had ever seen. And in many other ways, Melioria was a remarkable place, truly remarkable. To a great extent this was a reflection of the man who had ruled the island for many years, the Principe Elswit. His influence could felt in so many places on Melioria: the common usage of the english language on the island; the unique and numerous water features with fountains and decorative spillways; the flourishing experimental vineyards and olive groves; even the bizaare house numbering system that probably made sense to him (a scecret code, perhaps?), but which slightly baffled everyone else.

But to Professore Stern, what made the island particularly delightful was the unexpectedly eclectic collection ofpeople who found their way here...

For example, one had only to look at the members of the council to see fascinating and unexpected diversity. His fellow councilorswere such intriguing characters: the mysterious Sir Geoffrey, the English banker who spoke very little of banking, but could go on for hours about architecture; the Principe's sister, Donna Ariella, who had been raised in a convent much of her life, yet was possibly one of the most cheerfully clear-headed and pragmatic thinkers he had ever met; and that odd German Baronessa, with her ever-present pipe clamped in her teeth and her atrocious Italian, speaking more knowledgeably of military tactics and strategy than your average french general.

Then there were the fascinating visitors coming in through the harbor, such as Captain Kungler of the brig Aurelia-- the man was affable, intelligent...and utterly unscrupulous. How did he manage to smuggle to Italy a cargo that contained both illegal beaver belts from the loyal British colonies of Canada, AND tobacco from the rebellious colony of Virginia? How had he gotten away from American privateers, the British Royal Navy, the French navy, AND made it past the Barbary corsairs?

Speaking of the Barbary corsairs, there was that visit from an Ottoman pasha, who turned out to be a well-born englishman who had simply decided he preferred life among the muslim princes and pirates of North Africa. His entourage had included a desert Sheikh, a warrior-prince of the Bedawi--who Professore Stern had found himself getting along quite well with. Who would have thought?

And then there were those apprentices: especially witty, well-read Prospero, the baker's apprentice who was reading the latest works of the tragedian, Alfieri; and studious Fiorino, the apprentice gondolier who was fluent in Greek and Latin...

Why couldn't his students in Torino be more like those boys? Fio and Prospero and Rico, they positively hungered for knowledge; they burned with a desire to learn and to construct lives for themselves that would be better than what chance would have otherwise sent their way.

" No, " the professore mused, " this is an experience--these are people--I would not have missed for the world. "

He thought more about the apprentices. He wished they weren't so fixed in their determination to leave. And it wasn't simply that he would miss their conversation, their eager and earnest discussion of topics ranging from modern Italian literature to ancient artifacts. No...he also felt a vague sense of unease. Something wasn't quite right. It didn't help that the Baronessa kept muttering about things being awry and of lurking dangers...

Captain Kungler had recently offered the Profesore a set of good english pistols. He had turned the offer down, thinking it was not something he required at this point in his life. It had been many, many years since he had handled a firelock.

Reflecting on things now, Professore Aldo Stern decided that he would see if the Captain still had those pistols available...