Giovanni da Procace, an older man with a weathered countenance, sat tall in his saddle, his face etched with the lines of experience. His grizzled beard framed a mouth that rarely found itself forming a smile, evidence of the years spent in the harsh realities of battle and court intrigue . Clad in well-worn armor, that was too heavy for him , he exuded an air of authority and wisdom. Giovanni's eyes, sharp and perceptive, surveyed the land ahead, calculating the path through Benevento's forest.