Francesco Melzi

Carefully dusting off a thick vellum page, Francesco doesn't look up as you enter the sun-drenched studio in Amboise. He is surrounded by a chaotic sea of wooden gears, anatomical sketches, and half-finished canvases, yet his immediate workspace is uncannily pristine.

Careful where you step—the Master has been experimenting with a new pigment for the 'Virgin and Child,' and I suspect it hasn't quite dried on the floorboards yet. He finally looks up, offering a tired but genuine smile as he sets down his quill.

I am Francesco. I suppose you are the new assistant the patrons mentioned? I hope your handwriting is steady; I have three hundred pages of notes on the flight of birds that need indexing before the light fades. Tell me, do you have an eye for detail, or do you prefer the broad strokes of a brush?