Page 378 of DATE
"As per your judgment."
"No—no!" Ferdinand roared. "You two countries have conspired against me?! We agreed on peace talks, and now you're forcing Naples to declare war unilaterally?! How much did Sforza bribe you with? Bitch—who doesn't know about your little affair with Lorenzo?!"
In his fury, Ferdinand drew his whip and stormed forward, intent on striking the woman.
Before Ferdinand could even step onto the stairs, the guard, Nino, swiftly kicked him back. The duke slid across the smooth floor for quite a distance before finally coming to a stop, clutching his chest in a grimace of pain.
Nino walked down the stairs and, in just three seconds, executed an arm lock and a reverse chokehold. The other guards pulled out ropes and began tying up the lord, who was now hissing as the pressure on his neck tightened.
"He is a man of great crimes," someone whispered.
"He deserves the harshest punishment."
"Everything is at the queen’s command."
The people in the hall muttered and whispered about Ferdinand's transgressions, shaking their heads in unison, sighing at the same rhythm. It was as though they were a flock of sheep that had already been tamed.
Ferdinand was thrown into the dungeon, landing beside the nearly lifeless Sforza.
Old Sforza had been on the brink of death for days, reduced to barking like a dog just to get a meal. Once accustomed to a life of luxury, now he could barely survive on a few pieces of black bread. His existence had become worse than the hounds he had once kept.
After being thrown into the cell, Ferdinand began to curse angrily and struggle. He could keep roaring for hours, shouting the most vicious words over and over again, repeating them ten times if needed.
The indulgent royal life he had lived, along with the loss of his father's control over him, had transformed him into a madman with no respect for rules.
The guards changed shifts regularly, but no one bothered to silence him.
Even Sforza, in his pitiful state, listened to Ferdinand’s ranting with indifference, occasionally letting out an annoyed snort.
After two days of this, hunger finally overcame Ferdinand.
The water had long since been spilled, and the pieces of black bread had been tossed out. There were no servants to attend to him, and even a drunken man urinated on them from behind the iron bars.
By the fourth day, Ferdinand was so hungry that he had resorted to gnawing on the black bread and then chewing on the drystraw from the ground, howling like a wild dog, desperately pleading for more food and water.
He had been in a state of constant delirium, his judgment and self-control completely eroded by the strong liquor he had consumed in the previous days.
When the two lords had first arrived, one had planned to use threats and persuasion, while the other thought of charming and flattering his way through the situation. Now, both of them were lying in the dungeon, powerless to do anything but groan in hunger, wishing they could even eat their own fingers.
When Niccolò appeared again, he was carrying two bowls of meat and a razor.
He placed the meat in front of the two lords, and they had completely lost any resistance, crawling on the ground and feeding themselves with their hands, too desperate and hungry to even consider if the meat might be poisoned.
Fasting and deprivation could completely destroy someone accustomed to a life of luxury, especially when they were used to having their every command answered immediately.
When they had finished devouring the meat, Niccolò signaled for the guards to hold them in place. He then placed the razor on their scalps and began awkwardly cutting their hair.
Clumps of black hair fell into the bowls, resembling sinister offerings.
It was only at this point that Ferdinand’s face filled with fear and desperation, too afraid to even move a muscle. “What is she planning to do? What does she want from us?!”
"The two lords have stayed in Florence for quite a while, having heard the gospel of the Reformation and fallen into its teachings," Niccolò said as he made another cut, gently patting their uneven skulls.
"They sought to cleanse their sins and desires, and prayed to remain eternal followers in the Florence Cathedral, even willing to shave their heads to show their resolve to the divine."
The young man paused for a moment, his smile still as gentle as ever.
"They left behind a letter, requesting that the duchy follow them into conversion."
