On the south of Naples, near a river passing through the city, there is a large house.

One side of the house is built on a slightly higher river bank, while the other side is completely deep into the middle of the river, and it is directly built on several large reefs.

The originally wide river suddenly narrowed because of these reefs, and the water flow became turbulent. The buildings connecting these reefs were several small stone bridges.

In this way, from a distance, these houses seem to stand directly on the river.

This strange house is the home of Modillo, the Earl of Naples.

Like many nobles of this era, Modillo, the Earl of Naples, was a man with a deep appreciation for art.

And if you look closely, you will know that this count himself is a painter with extraordinary skills. However, compared with his level as a painter, his appreciation ability is more outstanding and admired.

Especially a few years ago, after he wrote a discussion on artistic appreciation, many Naples artists have made it a benchmark for their success.

It’s just that such a person has received countless praises, but also has something to criticize.

The Modillo family was the Count of Naples for generations, which means that even the palace of the King of Naples was actually built on his territory.

Although Modillo has not had such a harmonious relationship with the king in all generations, as the contemporary earl of the Modillo family, Saron Modillo has the worst relationship with the king.

This bad thing even started with the father of the former king, who hid in the monastery only one year after his reign. Therefore, this tension with the royal family continued to the current King Ferdinand, so many Naples said that Modillo had fought with the king's family for three generations.

However, this had nothing to do with ordinary Naples, and people would rather see the mutual filth between such nobles, even if one of them was the king.

What really made many Naples dissatisfied was his active cooperation with the French during the French occupation of Naples.

Although no one stood up to blame him in person, in the eyes of many Naples, Modillo is a traitor to Naples.

However, because the deep-rooted influence of the Modillo family has remained for a long time, the complaints about Saron Modillo have become insignificant.

When Alexander arrived at the Modilo house, he had just caught up with the servant to light the first candle.

The candle mixed with lard and dried flower powder was filled with strange smell. On the wall in the living room, there were several Moore servants sweating profusely and constantly pulling a rotating fan made of several huge fans. As the axle made a creaking sound, the fan car kept fanning the wind radiating with hot air.

Saron Modillo was sitting in a chair near the fan car, and a painter was painting him. Seeing Alexander come in, he just waved his hand and gestured, then held his cheek and remained motionless.

Alexander walked to the easel and noticed that the portrait should be almost completed and was already doing color repairs. However, he also knew that the more this time it was, the more it tested the artist's skills. Often, some great artists were able to add the dazzling aura to the whole painting with the finishing touch.

The painter seemed to be unwilling to care about the viewing of someone beside him, and even a little crazy. Perhaps in order to show off his uniqueness, he suddenly picked up a rag and wiped off a piece of already-refined color, but re-tuned the color, adding a deeper black to the already slightly deeper background.

"The strong colors can better highlight the existence of the characters," the artist, who is quite imposing in an artist, didn't know whether he was talking to himself or explaining to Alexander next to him. After deepening the heavier background color, he looked back at Alexander next to him without saying a word. "So do you think it's better to use a stronger contrast?"

Alexander shook his head. Speaking of which, although he had seen many paintings in various galleries, including masterpieces by masters, he was not good at painting.

Although in his opinion, the painting method seems to be still at the early stage of relying on deepening background colors to highlight the character's perspective level, Alexander still knew it himself, at least he could not draw someone's level.

And he didn't think it was a good idea to explain perspective to others, although it seemed that in Florence, there was already a person who was the most talented person in the world who was trying to promote a revolution in the history of painting in this subversive way.

"You seem to be not interested in art," Modillo, who was sitting in the chair, finally stood up. He walked to the easel and looked at his portrait, and then bowed to the artist to express his gratitude. Seeing the artist carefully covering the easel with cloth and retreating, the count reached out to signal Alexander to follow him toward the house on a rock on the river.

Alexander followed casually and looked at the person ahead seriously. As long as he knew, his heart was not as calm as he looked on.

Everything started with the surname "Modilo". Although I had always imagined that one day I would meet someone with the surname, I didn't expect that this opportunity would come so suddenly and so special.

"The messenger from Sicily," Modillo, who had walked across the stone bridge and walked into the room, turned around and looked at Alexander who was still standing on the bridge. "So we are dealing with a congressman, not King Ferdinand's palace?"

"The congress was loyal to the king," Alexander said carefully. "If you draw your sword at me because of this, you can only say that you are wrong."

"Is that true?" Modillo asked as if he was simply asking, and then he signaled Alexander to follow him into the room.

The house built on the reef is not big, because the surface of the reef is rugged and the ground is completely built with wooden boards. You can even vaguely see the river flowing below from the gaps between the wooden boards.

Alexander suddenly felt that it was better to say that Modilo built such a house with no reliance on all sides to prevent anyone from eavesdropping than to say that it was an interest.

Sure enough, standing on the squeaking wooden board, Modillo turned to look at Alexander and said, "Okay, let's all be honest now and tell me the young man how Gomez died."

Alexander was about to speak, but Modillo raised his hand to stop him.

"Wait a minute, I'm going to tell you first. I've heard a lot about Gomez's death. Although I'm far from Palermo, it's enough to let me know a lot, so don't doubt my ability, and I know who you are."

Modillo's words made Alexander's heart thump, and then he told himself that Modillo could not know "who he is".

"In fact, Lord Palace was conspired to assassinate by the French," Alexander spoke. He knew that as Modillo himself said, he had many ways to know what happened in Sicily. Since Alexander decided to tell the truth, "The French planned a riot in Palermo. Although no one knows what they did, it is certain that they were planning, and in Palermo, they also received some help from the locals."

"The French conspiracy against Sicily?" Modillo looked at Alexander. "How do you prove that all this is true, or how do you prove that the other side of the lighthouse thinks that the French are making trouble?"

Seeing that Modillo didn't seem to believe it, or seemed to be troubled by something, Alexander remembered the previous ruling of the congressional group, Camuli said that Modillo was one of the figures who fanatically supported the reunification of Sicily.

Thinking of all the rumors about him during the French occupation of Naples, Alexander suddenly felt as if he had touched something. After a moment of thinking, he made a decision!

"Sir, when it comes to proof, I think Bishop Alfonso of Palermo can give you a better answer." Alexander said while carefully observing Modillo's expression, only hearing Alfonso's name, there was no strangeness on the face of the count. "The Bishop once received a French scholar named Fitch from the Orleans territory, and I am very fortunate that I also met this old man from France many times in the Bishop's Palace. It was only the last time, on the bloody night when Lord Palace was killed. At that time, this respectable French scholar was with a group of thugs, and he was holding a pen, but a sword."

Modilo, who had been listening calmly, had a strange expression on his face for the first time. He looked at Alexander seriously. After staring silently for a while, he slowly said: "I know your messenger, I know you are a Greek from Crete. I know you are lucky to have some kind of friendship from Gomez because of the life of the Palace Prince who saved the life of the Palace Prince. I also know that you have served as the official of Alfonso's private library. So what I want to ask you now is, does it mean that you are hinting that your former employer and the current Bishop of Palermo are related to Gomez's death?"

Facing Modillo's inquiry eyes, Alexander shook his head calmly: "No, sir, I didn't suggest anything, let alone accuse anyone of me. I just told the facts I saw with my own eyes."

"Facts?" Modilo showed a playful smile. "There are countless facts in anything. People always like the one they are willing to believe."

"But there is always only one truth."

After saying this, I felt very stressed and suddenly felt like I was on the wrong set.

Modilo looked at Alexander with interest, and then he suddenly said, "It seems that I have to apologize for my previous rudeness, and hope that you can enjoy the glory again tomorrow night."

Looking at Alexander's departure, Modillo's mouth slightly raised.
Chapter completed!