Pierre let the implications of that statement hang in the air. Valerio seemed to realize he'd said too much, but pride prevented him from retreating. He launched into an impassioned defense of his methods, explaining the necessity of control, the beauty of his vision, the ingratitude of those who couldn't appreciate his work.
As Valerio spoke, growing more animated with each word, Pierre glanced toward the west corridor. A commotion had erupted near the storage rooms – shouting about spilled wine, workers rushing to clean up the mess. Leo had done his part. And Raven – Raven was nowhere to be seen.
Good. Phase one complete.
Pierre returned his attention to Valerio, who had progressed to comparing himself to a sculptor, Porto Veloce his masterpiece, its inhabitants merely marble waiting to be shaped by his genius.
