Two more weeks passed since the messenger left for Hungary. Marzio was already firmly holding a sword in his hand and, according to Faina: 'of course, you are still far away to fight a man, but you can take down some small demon.' He also noticed that the cross around Rovigo is easier for him than before. He realized that he needed to have good physical fitness if he wanted to survive, but not through such physical and moral humiliations. Faina really did not spare him, but there was some concern in this. The girl really "messed around" with the young man, although she could not do it. Although Marzio had heard about Faina's possible motivation, he still naively hoped for something more. For example, unselfish human feelings. Dear gods, how naive he is.

When the twenty-ninth day of Marzio's stay in the Rovigo fortress came, a messenger arrived from the order's headquarters with an order to immediately relocate to the barracks of the city of Padua, which was located to the north of them, just near the capital – Venice. On the same day, another detachment of troops arrived at the fortress, which was transferred from other bridgeheads. As Marzio understood, it was a redeployment of the contingent with a new strategic consideration. Whatever it was, but Marzio had to go with everyone to Padua, which he actually did not resist. He could not have imagined a month ago where his life would take him to.

They were going for a long time: ten hours of marching in formation exhausted the inexperienced Marzio. It was unusual for him to walk so grouped and because of this, he often knocked down his step and slowed down. At least Faina spared him, so it was morally easier, but not physically. Marzio carried all his things on himself, and this time he was not wearing his light clothes, but full-fledged ammunition, which in itself was not very comfortable. They did not make a halt, so at the end of the day, when the detachment reached the walls of Padua, Marzio collapsed at the first opportunity. But his happiness was short-lived: the placement began. In the bustle, the young man heard that a training course for personnel was planned, as well as accommodation in city barracks. This did not please Marzio at all, who did not like living in barracks conditions and with a strict regime. Who would have known what a heavy burden fate had thrown on his unprepared shoulders if Faina had not intervened again.

'Hey, Marzio! she called him in. Next to her stood a small monk in a black cassock and with a shiny bald head.

'Father Abele, this is Marzio,' Marzio bowed respectfully to the monk.

'May the Lord bless you, my son,' the monk said good-naturedly and respectfully, baptizing the young man.

'So, Marzio...,' Faina began.

'I have already decided everything for you, so now you are under the control of Father Abele. He is the rector of St. Anthony's Basilica. As soon as he found out that you were literate, he immediately asked me to introduce you.'

'Are you literate, my son?'

'I have been trained to read and write,' Marzio quickly replied.

'We have an amplification now...,' Faina continued.

'Active training is being prepared, and I've decided you wouldn't stand them. Therefore, I agreed to work with the abbot. Then you can handle it yourself. I have to go– my squad is waiting for me. Goodbye, Father Abele!'

'Goodbye, my child,' Faina went away, and the monk began.

'It's a great stroke of luck that God's ways have brought us together, Marzio. The fact is that in our temple...,' here he hesitated, choosing his words.

'Also a kind of reinforcement. We have been sent new books that we should start printing, but we are sorely short of people. You see, we have already involved all the literate young men, but even so, the amount of work is huge. Therefore, I was very happy when I heard a rumour about a competent soldier.'

'What is my job?'

'I'll explain everything now. Let's go to the basilica, and on the way, you will ask me all the questions. And yes - take all your stuff with you.'

Marzio gathered all his belongings and followed Father Abele, who was telling the essence of the work.

'We need to print several copies of a new book. We have a printing press, but not enough people. As you can guess, there can be no mistakes in such cases, so we have no right to allow illiterate people to work. It's not complicated, but it's very painstaking, so it will take a lot of effort. I'll show you the details on the spot, but that's not all I wanted to say,' the monk was quite sympathetic and did not cause rejection, so Marzio extinguished any dislike for the church and listened attentively.

'Besides working on the book, we still need help. We need you to guard our grain warehouse at night. You see, we don't have enough people here either, or rather a person who would watch at night. I understand that so much work is piling on you at once, but, firstly, this is a blessed work of the Lord, and secondly, the church will not remain in debt. We will pay you for your work with books and give you shelter and food, and the order must pay you monthly for night duty, so you will not be lost,' he smiled good-naturedly.

'You will live in our cell. I'll give you one room in which you can stay. You will also eat in our dining room, and also receive a salary, which you can spend as you please. And the schedule is as follows: after lunch, we start to get to work and do not bite our hands until sunset, then you go to guard the warehouse until dawn, and then I'll give you time to sleep until lunch.'

Then Father Abele began to colourfully and in detail describe the way of life in his Basilica. Marzio pretended to listen attentively and with interest to the monk, but it was much more interesting for him to look at Padua, through the colourful streets of which they were walking to the basilica.

The city was really amazing: a lot of beautiful houses bursting with wealth and prosperity renovated ancient buildings that were sometimes more beautiful than modern ones, as well as a huge number of ancient statues and monuments complemented the picture. Marzio noticed that Veneto looked much richer than Bologna. Probably, the economic situation and the historical mentality affected. Marzio had read that Venetians had been good traders for a long time. They entered the historical centre - a section of the city behind the ancient walls, of which only the outlines remained, and walked through a long shopping area, coming out into the centre of Padua – Prato della Valle, a famous square with many statues of the great people of the city.

'This is our pride!' Abele was saying.

'These statues survived the second coming, and we also added a few more in honour of the outstanding people of Padua. The preservation of traditions is what Padua is based on.'

Beyond the square was a small canal, beyond which towered the majestic Basilica of St. Anthony. It was a stunning building of the ancient Renaissance architectural tradition. Although Marzio knew little about the types of architectural styles, but this is not the main thing – he understood and felt the essence, and without this, all sorts of books are useless.

Marzio was introduced to the interior of the temple and its inhabitants. Surprisingly, the young brothers were quite friendly and polite to him, which was a little unusual. Probably, the bad influence of Faina affected, with which everyone would lose self-esteem. He was taken to a small cell, which was quite enough, but Marzio was worried about his personal belongings: what would happen if they found his forbidden things. He had only to hope for monastic decency.

Then the printing plants, with which Marzio had to work, were shown to him. They told him about all the principles of their work, about the procedure for performing actions and gave him a look at the material – a new book sent from Venice.

As a result, Marzio got a good job in the basilica. He quietly spent the night in his cell, which he preferred to call the same room. The food in the monastery canteen was quite tolerable, although there were various occasions when some kind of food was not served on the table, or vice versa - everything depended on holidays and church fasts, about which Marzio was not very aware. Working at the printing press was really routine, but it was much better than listening to unfriendly comments from Faina all day. Even the night shift didn't exhaust Marzio so much. After a few days in the basilica, Marzio got one of the copies of the printed book, which he got acquainted with. There were times when he secretly read at his post when everything was quiet, but most often, he retired to his room and indulged in reading.

In this way, Marzio began to live in the basilica, quite content with his position. Time passed, but there was no progress in the world: the Scarlet Knights were engaged in their territory, and everything was quiet and in order in Veneto. If Faina wasn't lying, then the messenger hadn't even reached Hungary yet, so there was no need to wait for news.

However, soon a new concern appeared in Marzio's life. In addition to daily work at the printing press and night guards, he began fencing with the honourable Sergeant Gasparo, with whom he was introduced by Faina. The girl could not personally study with Marzio, so she found him a suitable teacher who agreed to study with him for a nominal amount paid from Marzio's salary. Not that he was very excited about the next training sessions, but he perfectly understood the need for them, besides, it was much more pleasant to study with Gasparo.

The sergeant was no longer a young man, with a slight bald spot, of medium height and a solid build. Unlike Faina, he never scolded Marzio and did not beat him, limiting himself to edifying advice, even with the use of some force. Whatever it was, it was more comfortable for Marzio to study with him.

They fenced on a special training ground that was located near the barracks of the order. A wide-field was divided into sections where soldiers could practice on the shooting range, riders could practice with horses, and there were also many special areas for duels. Gasparo taught Marzio almost every day – the man himself was at the age when it was time to retire, so his main job was to train youngsters. Marzio was a "capable" student, as Gasparo said, but "not talented."

'You know, Marzio...,' Gasparo once said.

'I watched you shoot a crossbow and you know what?' he looked questioningly at the young man, raising his thin eyebrows.

'You're much better at it than fighting with swords. You would make a good marksman, but even if you master the sword well, you will not make a particularly skilled warrior.'

'I know that, Monsieur Gasparo. Marzio answered him.'

'I've personally noticed that I feel uncomfortable when I'm holding a crossbow, instead of a sword.'

'Then you need to be sent to the arrows. But before that, you still need to be able to fence properly, so we continue.

Sometimes Faina came to watch his class. Meanwhile, she was training with her squad, and when she had a free minute, she watched him from afar. Sometimes Marzio noticed how the girl was watching him with a kind of tender gaze as if admiring him. One day she told him:

'Just don't think that I came because I'm worried. I just don't want Mr Gasparo to suffer too much with such a bad student.'

'Oh, come on, Mrs Faina,' Gasparo then intervened.

'Your Marzio is quite a worthy student.'

'And he's not mine!' the girl immediately objected.

A whole month passed so slowly. During such a period of time, Marzio managed to do a lot: he finally finished reading the book that Aunt Margaret gifted him; he managed to master the sword well, and also shoot an excellent crossbow. Now he was honing his sword and block skills with Mr Gasparo, and Father Abele, meanwhile, initiated him into some aspects of church and secular life. Marzio understood that now he had a great opportunity to learn something else since no one knew what would happen next.

A couple of times Faina asked him to help with her errands. It's not a tricky thing: to accompany her as a flooring worker to the bazaar, to repair the sagging fence at the barracks and everything like that. Although Marzio looked at Faina warily, remembering the conversation he had overheard in Rovigo, but, as it seemed to him, the girl rather felt contempt for him than any feelings. He often heard: "Fool! It's all because you're a blockhead! How can you be so inept! Is such behaviour befitting a man?!" She condemned Marzio's passivity, because he was not particularly nimble during fights, preferring restrained defence. Faina's fighting style was on the contrary aggressive and fast. He had never been able to defeat her in a duel, which he was not particularly sad about, which cannot be said about her.

'How could it be possible!?' she wailed.

'Of course, I'm a much more experienced warrior than you, but you could have won at least once!'

'I can't do it yet,' he answered her calmly.

'Yes, how's so?!' she got started instantly.

'Every worthy man should be able to stand up for his honour! What will you do if, for example, robbers attack the peasants?'

'I'll take a crossbow and shoot their leader.'

'Oh, there it is! And if you fail? What if they get too close?'

'It's pointless. There are too many "ifs" in your words, Faina. I would act based on the situation,' in response, she just chuckled.

In general, Marzio believed that he fabricated feelings between him and Faina because of his age. In one of the old books that he read back in Forli, Marzio had learned that now he had an active period of "maturation", and all possible desires and strange needs flowed from there. So Faina's apparent sympathy was just a figment of his excited imagination. In fact, the girl only taught Marzio and nothing more.

Thus the long summer days of 1516 were dragging on and another month of staying in Padua passed.

Marzio already perceived the city as his own. Two months spent in Padua introduced him to many interesting people: he already knew a couple of merchants in the market, met an excellent blacksmith, made friends with all the monks in the basilica and a couple of soldiers at the shooting range. His swordsmanship had finally reached a decent level, so he could parry Gasparo and Faina's attacks and even successfully counterattack. His shooting was excellent, so Gasparo predicted good prospects for him in the ranks of shooters. However, it was still necessary to work up to that. Only three months Marzio was in the service of the order, and so far his work was limited only to the guard at the monastery warehouse and small household errands. But in the monastery, the work was almost completed. Marzio and the monks were able to print a huge number of copies of the book, which began to disperse to all corners of the Veneto. One day Father Abele asked Marzio to help him patch up the roof. During this work they got into a conversation:

'You know, Marzio...,' the abbot began.

'You would make a good scientist.'

'You think so?'

'Of course! Let the peasants fight demons and humans in the fields, and your place is in libraries.'

'But how can I achieve this?'

'Well, it's more complicated here. Father Abele clumsily climbed down from the ladder and looked at the work done. It turned out a little crooked with him and Marzio. They were pinning a sign to the roof in honour of the coming day of the prophet Ezekiel.'

'I think it's a little askew,' Marzio remarked.

'Yes, let it pass! Father Abele waved his hand and took the young man to the park at the basilica to tell him more.

'The fastest way is to become a monk. Then no one will distract you from studying books, but I feel that this is not your way. Not everyone is able to become a monk because this is a gigantic work on the soul and body. You need a secular way. I know that there is a university in Venice where you could be accepted if you pass all the entrance exams. But believe me, the life of a student is very difficult. Teaching, perhaps, takes no less effort than gruelling training. Are you ready for this?'

'I don't even know,' Father Abele.

'It's all so complicated. I've only been living an adult, independent life for three months, and I don't understand a lot yet. I do not have enough simple life experience, but I will take your words into consideration. Thank you for your advice, Father Abele.'

'You're welcome, Marzio.'

During one of the training sessions, another dialogue took place with Mr Gasparo:

'You are doing well, Marzio! A little more and you will be able to fight on equal terms with the soldiers of the same Genoa, but it is far from ideal.'

'I'm trying, Mr Gasparo!'

'Hmm, have you ever considered becoming an artilleryman? I have a gunner friend who could teach you this craft.'

'I will think over your words, Monsieur Gasparo.'

'Think about it, Marzio.'

The next day, during another training session, Faina informed Marzio:

'Work is planned.'

'Which one?'

'A caravan with civilians is going to Verona from Venice. They are going to go to the northern city of Merano, which is near the border with Liechtenstein. The roads there are mountainous and dangerous – wild animals can be met, and even worse – demons. A squad of soldiers is going to escort them. Are you going with them, Marzio?'

'To the convoy?'

'Yes, exactly. Since you are only an ordinary soldier, then this task is possible for you. We've been taking care of you a little bit with Gasparo, so you should be able to handle it. And look at me...,' she grabbed Marzio by the collar and pressed him to her.

'If you screw up, I'll skin you, understand!?'

'Yes, I understand everything,' the young man answered fearfully.

'That's nice. Tonight you are moving out so that you can be on the parade ground at six o'clock. Inform Father Abele of your departure, don't forget!' she said, leaving.

In the evening, Marzio said goodbye to the abbot and the monks. Father Abele gave Marzio his blessing on the case and guaranteed that he would look after his personal belongings. Marzio took only food and weapons and hurried to the parade ground.

Already on the parade ground, Marzio was placed at the disposal of a bearded sergeant, who gave commands in a barking voice. The convoy consisted of several dozen wagons, in which peasants and small traders were travelling. One of the soldiers with whom Marzio rode said that these were "refugees from the east" who were welcomed by the Kingdom of Veneto. At sunset, the convoy set off for Verona. Marzio was going east.