A loud caw was heard as a giant eagle fell from the sky carrying a burly older man dressed in the furs of the king's lineage. Landing in front of the spire which housed Virgil, Ciacco disembarked off the back of his Idol and pushed passed the two stone golems guarding the front door without hesitation. 

"Do you take me for a fool Virgil," he screamed into the precariously empty foyer. 

Despite his public appearance of a calm, level-headed Duke, Ciacco was well known amongst the other nobles as a vindictive and powerful ruler who was not afraid to use his own overwhelming power to get his way. 

"Come down here."

With these words, Ciacco began amassing his Neshamah into his arms. From a purely physical perspective, it looked as if nothing had happened. However, from the perspective of the "meditative realm", this was akin to a small storm brewing in the bottom of the spire, ready to bring the entire building down.

Bringing his left fist upwards and striking at the air, the mere pressure of Ciacco's attack was able to leave a succession of large holes in the floors above, growing smaller in size until reaching about the size of a human. From which Virgil seemed to drop from, only having his descent slowed by an array of stone arms propagating from the remaining walls around him.

"Yes, just come in Ciacco," replied Virgil as he reached the bottom floor. Knowing Ciacco's temper and eventual reaction to his invitation, Virgil was able to preemptively remove all of the expensive furniture and artworks from his abode, leaving the area bare for the destruction which was to come.

Unfazed, stone golems began to appear out of the stonework and began hobbling together stone bricks with which they would fix the now damaged spire.

Ciacco's eyes darted left to right to surmise the intentions of the golems that now surrounded him. "First you insult me with that stunt you pulled at the round table, but now you dare to flaunt your victory in my face by hosting a banquet in your honor?"

Virgil could do nothing but smirk at his brother, "these are the games we play brother. We do small things to curry small favors to win small rewards. It's all we can do in this utopia handed to us by the Gods. And you've been playing this game too well for too long, it's time for someone else to win. Me."

Ciacco looked sternly upon his brother. "Wipe that smirk off your face. If you want to play games with me, then I will play games with you. Try holding this banquet without the support of the Merchant Guild."

"Certainly you wouldn't purposely sabotage a banquet that would both honor the King and the Hero of our land?"

Ciacco cracked a slight smile, " 'Certainly', I wouldn't. That is, not if we can strike a deal."

The third layer, thought Virgil to himself. Three layers to Ciacco's demeanor. The first being Ciacco's calm, level-headed personality observed by most of the Kingdom including the King. The second being the fiery tempest of a savage, ready to lay waste to anything around him in order to achieve his goals, witnessed by most of the nobles. Finally, the third layer. The deal-maker, the man ready to gamble his position on a stake which he is sure to prevail. The man seen by a select few nobles and common men who do not cave to the overwhelming sense of his Neshamah.

"I will give you the full support of the Merchant Guild. In return, at the start of the banquet, you will introduce me. Son of the old King, born of an honorable culture, and the man who, through his own pockets, made this day possible."

Virgil looked gruffly back at his older brother and thought, "sly old bastard", to himself.

"Deal."