Matteo was sitting at his desk, trying to read through a bunch of contracts with new contractors in various places around Northern Italy, when his father’s phone rang. The king had just stepped out for a moment to talk to his wife about a party that was coming up, but Matteo looked up to make sure that he hadn’t yet returned. After five more rings, he sighed and picked up the phone.
“Pronto,” he answered curtly.
“Your Majesty, this is Oliver.”
Oliver was the team leader of the warriors his father had sent to Pisa, and apparently, he thought that Matteo was his father.
“Speak.”
“There is an elderly man one of the team recognized. He lives in Dorf Tirol, his name is Lorenzo.”
“Why does that matter?” Matteo asked sternly, trying to channel his father’s energy.
“We believe he might be
