Antonio Fausto Malvolente

A good looking young man with dark penetrating eyes

Brawn       2  
Finesse     3 
Wits          2 
Resolve     1  
Panache    3  
Appearance: exceptional 2k2 to any social action
Faith: a true believer in the church
Left-Handed: +1k0 to attack roll
Vodacce Valet: You have a Vodacce Valet in your employ
Swordsman School: Ambrogia
Exploit Weakness Ambrogia     1
Feint (Fencing)                        1
Riposte (Fencing)                    1
Pommel Strike (Fencing)          1
Attack (Dirty Fighting)       1
Attack (Fencing)               3
Dance                             1
Etiquette                          1
Fashion                            1
History                             1
Mathematics                     1
Oratory                            1
Parry (Fencing)                 3
Philosophy                        1
Research                          1
Theology                          1
Throw (Impr. Weapon)      1 
Equipment – Clothing

Item          Qty    Unit     Extended Cost
Boots - Fine    1    5    5
Boots - Plain    1    2    2
Shoes - fancy    1    2    2
Court outfit    2    10    20
Suit - plain    2    1    2
Hat - wide      2    1    2
Gloves  Leather    1    0.2    0.2
Gloves - Silk    1    2    2
Coat - Gents    1    5    5
Cloak - Plain    1    1    1

Equipment – Weapons

Item          Qty    Unit     Extended Cost
Fencing Sword    1    15    15
Main Gauche    1    8    8
riding crop    1    0.5    0.5
Scabard            2    2.5    5

Equipment – Personal Grooming

Item          Qty    Unit     Extended Cost
Razor            1    2    2
Scissors    1    4    4
Mirror - small    1    10    10
Soap            1    3    3

Antonio Fausto Malvolente was the second son of a landed gentleman. Their estates lay in Umbria, a week north of Roma or a five days south of Firenze, depending on how you viewed the world. Growing up in a glorious valley nestled at the foot of the mountains was somewhat lost on Antonio. He was never particularly interested in outdoor activities and when his father gave him the choice of the army or the church, the decision was easy. Antonio had never seen a priest living out of a tent surrounded by a sea of mud whilst on campaign. Priest’s commanded buildings with gilded ceilings, wearing robes spun with threads of precious metals whilst holding rods encrusted with jewels.

So leaving his brother Arturo to take over the estates and his little sister Alessandra to learn, well, whatever it is women learn, Antonio headed for Roma, the centre of the worlds religious teaching. There he enrolled as a student in at The Angelicum while a stipend would regularly arrive from his father. The church seemed a great career to Antonio. There was the possibility of considerable wealth and power and all the comforts that went along with them. While it would be simple to write Antonio off as an opportunist, in reality he had a deep faith in the teachings of the church. But a belief in the doctrines and obeisance to the organisation can be two different things.

Antonio became disillusioned by the worldly organisation of the church which seemed to be diverging from the (admittedly profitable) core principles of the doctrines. When the inquisition took over the teaching at the Angelicum Antonio had several public arguments with the new administration. After seeing which way the political wind was blowing he excused himself from classes. By neglecting to mention this change in his letters to his father the stipend continued to flow and Antonio’s attentions turned to other matters to fill his days.

Always a reasonable fencer, Antonio joined the Ambrogia fencing school where he made many new friends. They introduced him to courtly life in a major city with all the temptations that came with it. Antonio dove into this new pool of experience and found that it suited him as well as the cassock had. The wealth of some of his new found friends was staggering; the beauty of their companions overwhelming and the respect this brought them was intoxicating. Antonio wanted all this, and more. The only thing which kept him from drowning completely in this society was, strangely enough, his faith. There were just some commandments he would not break.

On hearing of the death of his father Antonio returned home for the funeral in borrowed student robes. Arturo was all that their father could have wanted in an heir, cool and calculating with an air of command. Alessandra had matured into a young woman. Antonio had always doted on his sister and now it seems she had developed into a real asset for the family. Onesto, his father’s valet kept bothering Antonio to take his confession but Antonio, embarrassed by his deception about religious training, continued to put him off.

Once the business of the funeral was done and the matter of his stipend continuing sorted with Arturo it was back to Roma. The news of Artruro’s death arrived a week later along with the first of the winter’s storms. By the time the weather had settled a letter informing him that the estates had been taken over by his cousin Jacopo and his income had been stopped was on his doorstep. Antonio protested to both the secular and church authorities but to no avail. Antonio had few friends in the Inquisition controlled church and Jacopo had many friends in the court in Firenze. The family had been outplayed.

Finances dwindling and favours almost expended, Antonio felt his life spiralling out of control. Most of his acquaintances started refusing his calls and if not for his quick sword he would have been killed in a mugging attempt. Then Alessandra was delivered by Onesto to his door. Ernesto explained that the deaths in his family were not accidental and that an attempt on his sister’s life had only just been averted. Putting two and two together Antonio realised that the mugging was probably not just a random attack.

Using the last of his favours in Roma, Antonio found a place for Alessandra and himself in the retinue of an Albionese noblewoman returning home. Taking on Onesto as his valet the siblings embarked on a new life, but dreams of returning and claiming what is theirs still burn in their hearts.

Antonio Fausto Malvolente

A Winter's Tale Humungous