OOC: This will be a thread to further RP the intrigue going on within the Potenzan royalty. Other people are allowed to participate, just please avoid metagaming. And yes, the title is taking from Shakespeare's Othello.
The Womb of Time
- Thread starter Potenza
- Start date
Grimaldi Family Estate
20-miles outside of Turin
Count Niccolo Grimaldi glanced down at the notes before him. His brother, the Duke Silvestro, sat in a chair beside him, glancing towards the notes himself. The two Grimaldi men were seated in the sun room of the estate, and given the morning sun felt quite relaxed and warm despite the dropping temperatures outside.
"It's not done yet," Niccolo finally said, handing his brother the documents.
The Grimaldi duke took the sheets and looked at them closer, "You'll rattle a lot of chains."
Niccolo shrugged nonchalantly, "I believe this has to be said."
Both men were only about nine years apart from one another, but both were showing the signs of age. Silvestro had a fine head of hair with a large beard, both of which boasted stripes of white. Niccolo had short-cut dark hair with white showing on the sideburns, moving upwards as his body continued its path towards decay.
"Statoducalism," Silvestro remarked, "doesn't quite roll off the tongue, but it has a pleasant ring to it enough. You desire to see Eldizio in so much power?"
"It would depend," Niccolo said, "on whether the parliament was made up of his toadies or his enemies. Right now, with the majority of it being his enemies, it may very well be a dangerous thing. If the conservatives win the election, that matter will be another. I foresee if they do and the duke's popularity continues to drop, it might be his end."
"His end?" Silvestro said, "And his bumbling son takes over the throne. I'd like to see that."
Niccolo smiled a little, "Have you heard the rumors regarding the conservatives?"
The duke blinked twice and shook his head. Silvestro, sharp enough man as he was, was not good at the little details, hence the need for many to serve as informant along with family or aide.
"Guido is serving as Merlino's campaign manager," came Niccolo's explanation, "I believe if Eldizio is removed from the ducal chair, it will be given to a member of the Torriani house."
"The Visconti would not like that."
Again, Niccolo shrugged, "It is perfectly legitimate for the representational body of a government to replace the monarch with someone they prefer. History shows us a fine precedence in that. If the Visconti house fights back, the government will respond in like manner, and the rest of Europe will support the people over the house."
"Guido as duke," Silvestro smirked, "bugger the thought."
"We'll need to began a modification of the government," Niccolo continued, "because quite frankly, Niccolism is incapable of being executed properly. Merlino has already hinted at reform, and it will most likely be entirely focused upon the position of grand duke. I would suggest to them that the cabinet be removed from the duke to the prime minister to grant him power - but then that might place too much power upon him. The grand duke will have to therefore reinstate the territorial control of the various royal families as they once were and organize the court to serve as a kind of upper house. He will also have to maintain control over the military, either through a royal being in command of the ministry of defense, or maintaining his status as the commander in chief of the armed forces."
"Quite a lot you just said," Silvestro replied, "but easier said than done. That will require nearly remapping the entire government."
Once again, Niccolo shrugged, "Not impossible. Many governments have changed far more in less order and come out with fairly acceptable results. In the meantime, it might be best for us to throw our weight behind the House of della Torre - if Guido truly is setting his sights on the grand ducal throne."
The Grimaldi duke held up the sheet of paper, "And this? Your little book?"
"Oh yes, that," Niccolo smiled, "I plan to publish it after the election."
20-miles outside of Turin
Count Niccolo Grimaldi glanced down at the notes before him. His brother, the Duke Silvestro, sat in a chair beside him, glancing towards the notes himself. The two Grimaldi men were seated in the sun room of the estate, and given the morning sun felt quite relaxed and warm despite the dropping temperatures outside.
"It's not done yet," Niccolo finally said, handing his brother the documents.
The Grimaldi duke took the sheets and looked at them closer, "You'll rattle a lot of chains."
Niccolo shrugged nonchalantly, "I believe this has to be said."
Both men were only about nine years apart from one another, but both were showing the signs of age. Silvestro had a fine head of hair with a large beard, both of which boasted stripes of white. Niccolo had short-cut dark hair with white showing on the sideburns, moving upwards as his body continued its path towards decay.
"Statoducalism," Silvestro remarked, "doesn't quite roll off the tongue, but it has a pleasant ring to it enough. You desire to see Eldizio in so much power?"
"It would depend," Niccolo said, "on whether the parliament was made up of his toadies or his enemies. Right now, with the majority of it being his enemies, it may very well be a dangerous thing. If the conservatives win the election, that matter will be another. I foresee if they do and the duke's popularity continues to drop, it might be his end."
"His end?" Silvestro said, "And his bumbling son takes over the throne. I'd like to see that."
Niccolo smiled a little, "Have you heard the rumors regarding the conservatives?"
The duke blinked twice and shook his head. Silvestro, sharp enough man as he was, was not good at the little details, hence the need for many to serve as informant along with family or aide.
"Guido is serving as Merlino's campaign manager," came Niccolo's explanation, "I believe if Eldizio is removed from the ducal chair, it will be given to a member of the Torriani house."
"The Visconti would not like that."
Again, Niccolo shrugged, "It is perfectly legitimate for the representational body of a government to replace the monarch with someone they prefer. History shows us a fine precedence in that. If the Visconti house fights back, the government will respond in like manner, and the rest of Europe will support the people over the house."
"Guido as duke," Silvestro smirked, "bugger the thought."
"We'll need to began a modification of the government," Niccolo continued, "because quite frankly, Niccolism is incapable of being executed properly. Merlino has already hinted at reform, and it will most likely be entirely focused upon the position of grand duke. I would suggest to them that the cabinet be removed from the duke to the prime minister to grant him power - but then that might place too much power upon him. The grand duke will have to therefore reinstate the territorial control of the various royal families as they once were and organize the court to serve as a kind of upper house. He will also have to maintain control over the military, either through a royal being in command of the ministry of defense, or maintaining his status as the commander in chief of the armed forces."
"Quite a lot you just said," Silvestro replied, "but easier said than done. That will require nearly remapping the entire government."
Once again, Niccolo shrugged, "Not impossible. Many governments have changed far more in less order and come out with fairly acceptable results. In the meantime, it might be best for us to throw our weight behind the House of della Torre - if Guido truly is setting his sights on the grand ducal throne."
The Grimaldi duke held up the sheet of paper, "And this? Your little book?"
"Oh yes, that," Niccolo smiled, "I plan to publish it after the election."
Grimaldi Family Estate
20-miles outside of Turin
Niccolo Grimaldi gently spun the spoon counter-clockwise around the tea glass as he sat on the outside patio overlooking the lush, beautiful grounds. His brother, the duke and family head, stepped out and placed a hand on the count's chair.
"Caused quite a stink, didn't you?"
Niccolo smiled, "It was well received. I wanted a reaction."
"They have a name for it now," Silvestro took a seat beside his brother, looking out as he saw some of the groundskeepers heading out to tend the bushes, "Neo-Restorationism - what do you think?"
"There's a nice ring to it," Niccolo replied, "I might write another article. Alexander has defended his position. Someone needs to call out on his foolishness."
"You'll anger many people in Europe," Silvestro took out a cigar, cutting off the tip and lighting it. After a few puffs he continued, "Potenza hasn't had this much attention in a while. Perhaps you should form a Neo-Restorationist organization?"
"Possible."
"Although Eldizio would not like it. You'd gain a lot of supporters internationally. He might get suspicious."
"It's not him I'm so much worried about," Niccolo replied, "it's everyone in this nation who wants his seat."
"And that doesn't include you?"
"There's a might big sword hanging above the grand duke's throne, and I care not for it. I want to mold the world from the scholar's table, not the monarch's throne."
"You shouldn't talk that way," said Silvestro, smiling before puffing a few more times and continuing, "you might take over from me someday, if Fortune smiles her face upon you."
At that moment, Luigiana appeared. She was off to the distance, wearing a simple dress for a little girl of a royal family, and was giggling as she chased butterflies across the grass. Silvestro took notice of her, and Niccolo could see his brother's expression drop. It always did when Luigiana came into his sight. Rumors had circulated for many years now that she was the offspring of an affair, though Silvestro had managed to keep most of it a secret. Still, she was an embarrassment to many in the Grimaldi family, and few held any special sympathy for her. Any who saw Silvestro's reaction to her in person could figure out on their own that the rumors were most likely true...
"Brother," Niccolo finally said, "what will you do with her?"
Silvestro bit his finger, "I don't know...something, though...something..."
20-miles outside of Turin
Niccolo Grimaldi gently spun the spoon counter-clockwise around the tea glass as he sat on the outside patio overlooking the lush, beautiful grounds. His brother, the duke and family head, stepped out and placed a hand on the count's chair.
"Caused quite a stink, didn't you?"
Niccolo smiled, "It was well received. I wanted a reaction."
"They have a name for it now," Silvestro took a seat beside his brother, looking out as he saw some of the groundskeepers heading out to tend the bushes, "Neo-Restorationism - what do you think?"
"There's a nice ring to it," Niccolo replied, "I might write another article. Alexander has defended his position. Someone needs to call out on his foolishness."
"You'll anger many people in Europe," Silvestro took out a cigar, cutting off the tip and lighting it. After a few puffs he continued, "Potenza hasn't had this much attention in a while. Perhaps you should form a Neo-Restorationist organization?"
"Possible."
"Although Eldizio would not like it. You'd gain a lot of supporters internationally. He might get suspicious."
"It's not him I'm so much worried about," Niccolo replied, "it's everyone in this nation who wants his seat."
"And that doesn't include you?"
"There's a might big sword hanging above the grand duke's throne, and I care not for it. I want to mold the world from the scholar's table, not the monarch's throne."
"You shouldn't talk that way," said Silvestro, smiling before puffing a few more times and continuing, "you might take over from me someday, if Fortune smiles her face upon you."
At that moment, Luigiana appeared. She was off to the distance, wearing a simple dress for a little girl of a royal family, and was giggling as she chased butterflies across the grass. Silvestro took notice of her, and Niccolo could see his brother's expression drop. It always did when Luigiana came into his sight. Rumors had circulated for many years now that she was the offspring of an affair, though Silvestro had managed to keep most of it a secret. Still, she was an embarrassment to many in the Grimaldi family, and few held any special sympathy for her. Any who saw Silvestro's reaction to her in person could figure out on their own that the rumors were most likely true...
"Brother," Niccolo finally said, "what will you do with her?"
Silvestro bit his finger, "I don't know...something, though...something..."
Royal Palace
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
It was dead quiet as Grand Duke Eldizio I sat on his throne, the ducal sword Alexandria resting hilt-first against the side of the rest. His legs were crossed and his hands gently resting on his lap, as if posing for a picture. Count Drago, his 26-year old handsome but completely apathetic heir, sat on the step before him, looking positively bored. Even if this silence were in need of a quickening, Eldizio's mind was very much alive. He had lost the battle with Count Guido in regards to the election, and now a Torriani puppet sat in the chair of prime minister, with a majority party. The grand duke-friendly party was in the minority, and could do little but prevent the greatest of changes. What's more, Eldizio was well aware of the decreasing popularity his duchy was having. The policy of Neustrema had proven unpopular and hit him hard, and his approval rating was still in the mid-40's percent. If it descended too far...
The silence was broken when Eldizio addressed his son:
"Tell me, Drago, do you think your position is secure?"
Drago shrugged, "I suppose so."
"On the contrary," Eldizio said, "your father's position is in danger. If I fall, so do you. Don't forget that right now, Drago. The Grand Duke has a position of authority that everyone desires, and when this apple falls, he takes the entire tree with him. Do you know who our enemy is?"
"Guido della Torre, is it not?"
"Very good. He has a prime minister in his pocket. Do you know why that is bad?"
"No, father."
Eldizio took the handle of Alexandria and rested the sword on his lap, running a gloved finger along the length of the exquisite blade as he said, "There are quite a few ways to bring down a grand duke. One is to remove him by military coup. No one has the power to do that, and none of our generals are so ambitious. Then there is assassination and a forceful takeover, but if that were to happen, the full brunt of our neighbors would come down on the assassins. Do you think Engellex, who treasures the friendship with the Visconti household, would want to see her go so violently?"
"No, not at all, father."
"Very good, Drago. And it would anger most of the other royal households. The Grimaldi may not miss us, but the Cornaro would, and the Morosini would be torn between loyalties to the Grimaldi and the government. Either way, it would be difficult for the Torriani to establish a strong foothold. No, assassination and regicide is out of the question. So what does that leave us?"
The young heir thought for a few seconds, then muttered in a quiet, unsure voice, "The Chamber of Ministers...?"
"Very good!" said Eldizio, beaming ever so slightly with a curl of the lips. "A grand duke can be removed by Potenza's elected body. If his approval rating drops low enough, it's well nigh possible that the people tell him to leave the throne, and a new grand duke is put in his place. And who do you think would get that seat?"
"Not Guido, father. Surely."
"Why not? The majority of the Chamber of Ministers would back him. He would be in this seat I am now, and holding this sword I hold now. And that would mean you would no longer be permitted to sit on the steps beside your royal father." When no response came from Drago at that, Eldizio continued: "And that is precisely what he aims to do. And he will do it by attempting to compel me to give up the cabinet."
"The cabinet? How do you know, father?"
"It is important for a duke to have ears in all corners of the duchy, my dear son and heir," replied the grand duke, emphasizing the word heir, "and there are many in parliament who wish to prove some loyalty to our house, and that should be utilized to the utmost. Yes, Drago, the prime minister has his eye on the cabinet that the grand duke has held for almost 200 years. The population might approve him for it, so that when I resist, my popularity will go down further. And when that happens, the Chamber of Ministers will be ready with their axe. Do you know how to solve such a situation?"
The count looked down, then looked back up and shook his head quietly.
"Why, do the very most unexpected thing...give them what they want!"
"Father! Will that not decrease your power?"
"Not at all. I can strengthen my position among the houses by organizing the royalty into its own body. Our government will appear to be more like Niccolism than ever before, so the people will be pleased. What's more, I will prevent that upstart Guido from getting what it is he wants. And you know what that is?"
Before Drago could respond, Eldizio turned Alexandria around and tapped the sharp end of the blade down onto the space of the seat between his thighs, "This throne."
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
It was dead quiet as Grand Duke Eldizio I sat on his throne, the ducal sword Alexandria resting hilt-first against the side of the rest. His legs were crossed and his hands gently resting on his lap, as if posing for a picture. Count Drago, his 26-year old handsome but completely apathetic heir, sat on the step before him, looking positively bored. Even if this silence were in need of a quickening, Eldizio's mind was very much alive. He had lost the battle with Count Guido in regards to the election, and now a Torriani puppet sat in the chair of prime minister, with a majority party. The grand duke-friendly party was in the minority, and could do little but prevent the greatest of changes. What's more, Eldizio was well aware of the decreasing popularity his duchy was having. The policy of Neustrema had proven unpopular and hit him hard, and his approval rating was still in the mid-40's percent. If it descended too far...
The silence was broken when Eldizio addressed his son:
"Tell me, Drago, do you think your position is secure?"
Drago shrugged, "I suppose so."
"On the contrary," Eldizio said, "your father's position is in danger. If I fall, so do you. Don't forget that right now, Drago. The Grand Duke has a position of authority that everyone desires, and when this apple falls, he takes the entire tree with him. Do you know who our enemy is?"
"Guido della Torre, is it not?"
"Very good. He has a prime minister in his pocket. Do you know why that is bad?"
"No, father."
Eldizio took the handle of Alexandria and rested the sword on his lap, running a gloved finger along the length of the exquisite blade as he said, "There are quite a few ways to bring down a grand duke. One is to remove him by military coup. No one has the power to do that, and none of our generals are so ambitious. Then there is assassination and a forceful takeover, but if that were to happen, the full brunt of our neighbors would come down on the assassins. Do you think Engellex, who treasures the friendship with the Visconti household, would want to see her go so violently?"
"No, not at all, father."
"Very good, Drago. And it would anger most of the other royal households. The Grimaldi may not miss us, but the Cornaro would, and the Morosini would be torn between loyalties to the Grimaldi and the government. Either way, it would be difficult for the Torriani to establish a strong foothold. No, assassination and regicide is out of the question. So what does that leave us?"
The young heir thought for a few seconds, then muttered in a quiet, unsure voice, "The Chamber of Ministers...?"
"Very good!" said Eldizio, beaming ever so slightly with a curl of the lips. "A grand duke can be removed by Potenza's elected body. If his approval rating drops low enough, it's well nigh possible that the people tell him to leave the throne, and a new grand duke is put in his place. And who do you think would get that seat?"
"Not Guido, father. Surely."
"Why not? The majority of the Chamber of Ministers would back him. He would be in this seat I am now, and holding this sword I hold now. And that would mean you would no longer be permitted to sit on the steps beside your royal father." When no response came from Drago at that, Eldizio continued: "And that is precisely what he aims to do. And he will do it by attempting to compel me to give up the cabinet."
"The cabinet? How do you know, father?"
"It is important for a duke to have ears in all corners of the duchy, my dear son and heir," replied the grand duke, emphasizing the word heir, "and there are many in parliament who wish to prove some loyalty to our house, and that should be utilized to the utmost. Yes, Drago, the prime minister has his eye on the cabinet that the grand duke has held for almost 200 years. The population might approve him for it, so that when I resist, my popularity will go down further. And when that happens, the Chamber of Ministers will be ready with their axe. Do you know how to solve such a situation?"
The count looked down, then looked back up and shook his head quietly.
"Why, do the very most unexpected thing...give them what they want!"
"Father! Will that not decrease your power?"
"Not at all. I can strengthen my position among the houses by organizing the royalty into its own body. Our government will appear to be more like Niccolism than ever before, so the people will be pleased. What's more, I will prevent that upstart Guido from getting what it is he wants. And you know what that is?"
Before Drago could respond, Eldizio turned Alexandria around and tapped the sharp end of the blade down onto the space of the seat between his thighs, "This throne."
Torriani Family Estate
Novara, Grand Duchy of Potenza
It was almost nine o'clock in the evening - at least, as the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded. Count Guido della Torre, heir to the Torriani household, sat in his usual plush chair in the living room of the estate. The fireplace was well kindled and burning nicely, illuminating much of the room. His good leg was crossed over and resting on his amputated leg - the result of a car accident in his youth. Behind him was the statue of the goddess Athena - the goddess of wisdom and military cunning. The fire warmed Guido in these colder days, but the true basking he desired was under this statue, hoping that the goddess Athena - by her mercy - would impart on him wisdom for the months to come. His eyes stared lazily at the fire, the illumination of which on his pupils gave a good visual representation of the kind of blaze going on in his mind.
A door opened and closed softly. The familiar click-clack sound of heels hitting the floor told Guido it was probably his older sister, Francesca, and for that reason he didn't even bother to turn around and greet her, feeling no threat in the slightest. The two had grown especially fond of each other, ever since Guido had been in the hospital suffering in great pain, and Francesca refused to leave his side. As they grew older the two siblings realized they had similar interests, and - for reasons neither could explain - they had personalities that simply clicked. If there was anyone on earth Guido trusted enough to turn around bare-backed with a knife on a table, it was Francesca.
A soft, feminine hand glided over Guido's royal uniform, placing its palm on his shoulder and its fingers on his upper chest. He let it, still not turning to face this intruder. It was almost a game when they were alone - Francesca would brush her fingers across Guido's back, Guido would twirl a finger through Francesca's hair. Neither said anything to the other of what it meant or why they did it - it was simply a strange, physical game they did.
"The grand duke outdid you, brother."
Francesca's words were said in a soft voice, but pierced like a knife to Guido's heart. It was a blow to his ego. Things had gone so splendidly. He had won the election, and now had a prime minister who sided with him in the Chamber of Ministers. The grand duke's approval rating had gone down, and all that would be needed was a little push to have the elected government body remove the grand duke from office. He had hoped to accomplish this by pushing for the cabinet to be given to the prime minister...but the grand duke had done the one thing Guido didn't expect. Grand Duke Eldizio I handed over the cabinet willingly.
"A slight, unexpected curve in the road," Guido replied, "not the end of affairs."
"It will take longer now, however."
Guido lifted a hand up, running his own fingers over Francesca's, "Oh dear sister, when you stab, you twist the blade..."
"It's for your humility, brother," Francesca lifted her own hand from Guido's touch, running a finger along his cheek, "pride will kill you. The turtle who peeks too boldly from the shell loses his head...or so they say." She stepped behind the chair, looking up at the Athena statue. A soft curl came over her lips, gazing at the goddess in an almost sardonic manner. Her eyes gleamed every so slightly.
"No danger of that yet," Guido said, placing his hands back on his lap, "if Eldizio perceived me to be a threat, he would have had me killed already. In the meanwhile, they're thinking of organizing a Chamber of Nobles to accommodate the Chamber of Ministers. The royal families will all have a voice again. Better yet...the court intrigues of the Renaissance will return yet again."
Francesca fixed a stray strand of hair, "Alliances...betrayals..."
"Yes, yes," said Guido, "the Cornaro will side with the Visconti, I know that much. The Morosini are a wild card. The Grimaldi, they might be a good ally."
Francesca turned her dark eyes towards the back of her brother's chair, "Have you read anything by Count Niccolo?"
"Oh yes, him and his Neo-Reactionism. I have. Supposedly he's publishing a book soon. From what I understand, it emphasizes the role of the duke."
"He might be a prudent ally."
Guido nodded, staring at the fire, "Yes, he has close ties to his brother...besides, someone who wants greater power in the duke, he should probably befriend more than one duke."
Francesca took a step and stood directly behind the chair. She was a fairly tall woman, so much so that she could bend over and easily run her hands over her brother's shoulders and onto the top of his chest without the top of the chair or his head impeding too much.
"And then what, brother? A Grimaldi-Torriani alliance?"
"A political bloc, yes," Guido answered, not responding to his sister's intimacy, "our Neo-Reactionism versus Eldizio's liberalism. Build a proper base in the Chamber of Nobles, and then..."
Francesca ran a finger along Guido's jawbone, a strand of her long hair cascading down against the side of his head, "Then...?"
Guido glanced upwards at his sister slightly, smiling, "And then, you're sister to a grand duke."
Novara, Grand Duchy of Potenza
It was almost nine o'clock in the evening - at least, as the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded. Count Guido della Torre, heir to the Torriani household, sat in his usual plush chair in the living room of the estate. The fireplace was well kindled and burning nicely, illuminating much of the room. His good leg was crossed over and resting on his amputated leg - the result of a car accident in his youth. Behind him was the statue of the goddess Athena - the goddess of wisdom and military cunning. The fire warmed Guido in these colder days, but the true basking he desired was under this statue, hoping that the goddess Athena - by her mercy - would impart on him wisdom for the months to come. His eyes stared lazily at the fire, the illumination of which on his pupils gave a good visual representation of the kind of blaze going on in his mind.
A door opened and closed softly. The familiar click-clack sound of heels hitting the floor told Guido it was probably his older sister, Francesca, and for that reason he didn't even bother to turn around and greet her, feeling no threat in the slightest. The two had grown especially fond of each other, ever since Guido had been in the hospital suffering in great pain, and Francesca refused to leave his side. As they grew older the two siblings realized they had similar interests, and - for reasons neither could explain - they had personalities that simply clicked. If there was anyone on earth Guido trusted enough to turn around bare-backed with a knife on a table, it was Francesca.
A soft, feminine hand glided over Guido's royal uniform, placing its palm on his shoulder and its fingers on his upper chest. He let it, still not turning to face this intruder. It was almost a game when they were alone - Francesca would brush her fingers across Guido's back, Guido would twirl a finger through Francesca's hair. Neither said anything to the other of what it meant or why they did it - it was simply a strange, physical game they did.
"The grand duke outdid you, brother."
Francesca's words were said in a soft voice, but pierced like a knife to Guido's heart. It was a blow to his ego. Things had gone so splendidly. He had won the election, and now had a prime minister who sided with him in the Chamber of Ministers. The grand duke's approval rating had gone down, and all that would be needed was a little push to have the elected government body remove the grand duke from office. He had hoped to accomplish this by pushing for the cabinet to be given to the prime minister...but the grand duke had done the one thing Guido didn't expect. Grand Duke Eldizio I handed over the cabinet willingly.
"A slight, unexpected curve in the road," Guido replied, "not the end of affairs."
"It will take longer now, however."
Guido lifted a hand up, running his own fingers over Francesca's, "Oh dear sister, when you stab, you twist the blade..."
"It's for your humility, brother," Francesca lifted her own hand from Guido's touch, running a finger along his cheek, "pride will kill you. The turtle who peeks too boldly from the shell loses his head...or so they say." She stepped behind the chair, looking up at the Athena statue. A soft curl came over her lips, gazing at the goddess in an almost sardonic manner. Her eyes gleamed every so slightly.
"No danger of that yet," Guido said, placing his hands back on his lap, "if Eldizio perceived me to be a threat, he would have had me killed already. In the meanwhile, they're thinking of organizing a Chamber of Nobles to accommodate the Chamber of Ministers. The royal families will all have a voice again. Better yet...the court intrigues of the Renaissance will return yet again."
Francesca fixed a stray strand of hair, "Alliances...betrayals..."
"Yes, yes," said Guido, "the Cornaro will side with the Visconti, I know that much. The Morosini are a wild card. The Grimaldi, they might be a good ally."
Francesca turned her dark eyes towards the back of her brother's chair, "Have you read anything by Count Niccolo?"
"Oh yes, him and his Neo-Reactionism. I have. Supposedly he's publishing a book soon. From what I understand, it emphasizes the role of the duke."
"He might be a prudent ally."
Guido nodded, staring at the fire, "Yes, he has close ties to his brother...besides, someone who wants greater power in the duke, he should probably befriend more than one duke."
Francesca took a step and stood directly behind the chair. She was a fairly tall woman, so much so that she could bend over and easily run her hands over her brother's shoulders and onto the top of his chest without the top of the chair or his head impeding too much.
"And then what, brother? A Grimaldi-Torriani alliance?"
"A political bloc, yes," Guido answered, not responding to his sister's intimacy, "our Neo-Reactionism versus Eldizio's liberalism. Build a proper base in the Chamber of Nobles, and then..."
Francesca ran a finger along Guido's jawbone, a strand of her long hair cascading down against the side of his head, "Then...?"
Guido glanced upwards at his sister slightly, smiling, "And then, you're sister to a grand duke."
Royal Palace
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
It was almost 11:00 AM in the smoking room of the palace when Eldizio I was notified that a visitor had arrived. No one used it as a smoking room any more, of course - no one in the Visconti household smoked. Instead, Eldizio used it to keep his brandy, wine and scotch, taken from across Europe (many of them diplomatic gifts). The grand duke was present in the room, fixing himself a small glass of wine to clear his head and relax his nerves. The only other person in the room was Giovanna, the youngest daughter of Eldizio at 22-years old. She was seated in the corner of the room, smiling at her father pleasantly, wearing a simple gown with a sash around her neck. Eldizio had her present for three good reasons. First, because he enjoyed her presence as she was a fine daughter. Second, because she was married to a member of the Torriani household, and he was expecting a Torriani visitor shortly. Her presence would ease the man's mind...or so Eldizio hoped. Third, she was infamous for her horrible stutter, which nearly made her unable to speak. If she heard anything, there was little chance she would be able to share any useful information - there was also little chance anyone would have the patience to get it out of her.
A servant stepped into the room and bowed before the duke, declaring:
"His Royal Highness, the Count Guido della Torre, your majesty."
Eldizio turned and stared at the door, his wine glassed held gently in his gloved hands. With a click-plop-click-plop sound, came the young heir to the Torriani household. Eldizio grimaced ever so slightly seeing the missing lower half of his leg and seeing how he struggled to walk. Guido was an otherwise handsome young man, and known for his brilliance and eloquence - the deformity, which was of no fault of his own, seemed to be the cruel joke of an angry god. Eldizio was well aware of his aspirations, but all the same the grand duke had pity upon the count.
"Thank you for coming, Count Guido," Eldizio said, bowing.
Guido nodded his head, "Your majesty - please, forgive me if I don't bow. As you know, it's very difficult for me these days."
Eldizio waved his hand, recognizing privately Guido was using his handicap to avoid giving respect...even though Guido was very capable of bowing. It was "difficult" more in respects to his hatred of the Visconti than it was his damaged leg. The grand duke dismissed his attendant, and then sat down in a chair near the snooker table in the middle of the room.
"Count Guido, as you may be well aware, the government is shifting and adapting to our needs. The cabinet will be handed over to the prime minister come next week. I also intend to bring our royal households to closer relations. There will be a Chamber of Nobles, which will compliment the Chamber of Ministers."
"Wise decision, your majesty."
"Thank you, son," Eldizio sipped his wine, "but there will need to be someone who can serve as representative for the Chamber of Nobles. Perhaps a 'Speaker of the Houses', I'm not certain...Lord knows I was never good with names." The grand duke looked up from the wine to the young count, noticing he was already appearing very interested. He sipped from the glass before continuing, "In any case, I need someone dependable...I would like to nominate you for the position."
"Surely there are other men, much older than me, who can run it," Guido replied.
"There are older men, for certain, but none so trustworthy. Besides, I want to let the other houses know that I hold no ill blood from any past history, and I want this new government building to be a sign of unity among the nobility, not a sign of transgression. That is why I need someone who knows both sides of the issue to lead it." He placed the glass on the table and stood up, approaching the count. "Would you be up for it?"
The count stared at the duke, as if studying him for every slight action. Finally, he said slowly and certainly, "Very well. I accept this position with humility and appreciation."
"Good! Good." Eldizio patted the young count on the shoulder. "You can tell your father for me. And give him my warmest regards and hopes for a quick recovery. You are dismissed, count."
The grand duke turned and returned to the glass, picking it up and sipping casually. Guido stared at the Potenzan monarch for what seemed like much more than a few seconds, then turned and walked out. The Eldizio continued to sip his wine, listening to the click-plop disappear down the hallway. Eventually it was replaced by much more regular footsteps, ones that the grand duke recognized belonging to his son and heir, Drago.
"Father!" Drago said, stepping into the room and shutting the door. "That was Guido!"
"Yes, yes it was," Eldizio said, putting the glass down and turning to his son, giving him a serious expression, "I just made him head of the Chamber of Nobles."
Drago's mouth dropped far, so far that Giovanna had to keep herself from laughing, and then blushed that she almost did so. "But why?" the heir asked. "Father, you said he was dangerous!"
"Have you ever heard the expression - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Well, it proves true here. I need Guido somewhere where I can keep an eye on him. I also need him somewhere where I can truly see if the rumors about his character are true. Sharks come closer to the water if you drop but a small amount of blood. Besides...I need to give him some legitimacy on the international scene."
"Why is that? I don't understand, father."
Guido suddenly turned and stretched his arm out to a small table near his chair. He snatched a piece of paper and handed it towards Drago: "Read."
The Visconti count read over the sheet of paper before lifting his eyes back to Eldizio: "An invitation from Franken."
"Yes, for myself and your mother." Eldizio turned towards Giovanna and smiling, as if letting his daughter know he still acknowledged her presence, "I'm sure you all would enjoy visiting Franken, yes?" Giovanna smiled and giggled slightly.
"So you are going, father?"
"Not at all! Don't be so stupid boy! Have you forgotten that Franken is at war with Engellex? Don't forget that our house only reigns in Potenza primarily because of Engellex. They have maintained strong ties to the Visconti house for over two hundred years. Right now they're at war with the entire EDF, and they're getting trigger happy over every small change in their sphere of influence. They're pointing guns at Nicosia because of the changes going on there, and already, here at Potenza, they're looking with worried eyes only because we have a new prime minister. Do you know what it will look like if the grand duke and his wife set foot on enemy territory to discuss relations? You'll have every soldier in Montelimar point their barrels south and march right on to San Salvo."
Drago looked down, his eyes similar to those of a whipped puppy, "I understand father."
"But all the same," continued Eldizio, his tone getting softer, "I can't pass this up. No, I can't go...but I can send others who can. And Guido will be one of them. I'll also send Teodoro from the House of Grimaldi..."
"The priest?"
"Yes, he's spokesman for the Archdiocese of San Salvo. He might even receive a promotion from the church if he's chosen to do so. Franken wants to better relations with the Catholic Church in Potenza, let him sort it out. And Count Niccolo as well, just to throw in some culture, and because he's making headway and will be well known there. In any case, I'll send them to Franken and let them mingle with the politicians there. This will serve many purposes. For one, it permits ties to Franken without seemingly contradicting Neustrema. For another, if Guido attempts anything, I will have grounds to arrest him, and I will be justified. As I said, a shark draws closer to water if you drop just a bit of blood - that's how you lure them in for the kill."
Guido glanced down at his glass, which was now empty. Giovanna, catching notice of this, immediately stood up and walked over, picking up the wine bottle and presenting it to her father. He smiled and leaned over, kissing her on the cheek, "No, not right now. My mind is focused - I can't lose my senses too much at a time like this."
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
It was almost 11:00 AM in the smoking room of the palace when Eldizio I was notified that a visitor had arrived. No one used it as a smoking room any more, of course - no one in the Visconti household smoked. Instead, Eldizio used it to keep his brandy, wine and scotch, taken from across Europe (many of them diplomatic gifts). The grand duke was present in the room, fixing himself a small glass of wine to clear his head and relax his nerves. The only other person in the room was Giovanna, the youngest daughter of Eldizio at 22-years old. She was seated in the corner of the room, smiling at her father pleasantly, wearing a simple gown with a sash around her neck. Eldizio had her present for three good reasons. First, because he enjoyed her presence as she was a fine daughter. Second, because she was married to a member of the Torriani household, and he was expecting a Torriani visitor shortly. Her presence would ease the man's mind...or so Eldizio hoped. Third, she was infamous for her horrible stutter, which nearly made her unable to speak. If she heard anything, there was little chance she would be able to share any useful information - there was also little chance anyone would have the patience to get it out of her.
A servant stepped into the room and bowed before the duke, declaring:
"His Royal Highness, the Count Guido della Torre, your majesty."
Eldizio turned and stared at the door, his wine glassed held gently in his gloved hands. With a click-plop-click-plop sound, came the young heir to the Torriani household. Eldizio grimaced ever so slightly seeing the missing lower half of his leg and seeing how he struggled to walk. Guido was an otherwise handsome young man, and known for his brilliance and eloquence - the deformity, which was of no fault of his own, seemed to be the cruel joke of an angry god. Eldizio was well aware of his aspirations, but all the same the grand duke had pity upon the count.
"Thank you for coming, Count Guido," Eldizio said, bowing.
Guido nodded his head, "Your majesty - please, forgive me if I don't bow. As you know, it's very difficult for me these days."
Eldizio waved his hand, recognizing privately Guido was using his handicap to avoid giving respect...even though Guido was very capable of bowing. It was "difficult" more in respects to his hatred of the Visconti than it was his damaged leg. The grand duke dismissed his attendant, and then sat down in a chair near the snooker table in the middle of the room.
"Count Guido, as you may be well aware, the government is shifting and adapting to our needs. The cabinet will be handed over to the prime minister come next week. I also intend to bring our royal households to closer relations. There will be a Chamber of Nobles, which will compliment the Chamber of Ministers."
"Wise decision, your majesty."
"Thank you, son," Eldizio sipped his wine, "but there will need to be someone who can serve as representative for the Chamber of Nobles. Perhaps a 'Speaker of the Houses', I'm not certain...Lord knows I was never good with names." The grand duke looked up from the wine to the young count, noticing he was already appearing very interested. He sipped from the glass before continuing, "In any case, I need someone dependable...I would like to nominate you for the position."
"Surely there are other men, much older than me, who can run it," Guido replied.
"There are older men, for certain, but none so trustworthy. Besides, I want to let the other houses know that I hold no ill blood from any past history, and I want this new government building to be a sign of unity among the nobility, not a sign of transgression. That is why I need someone who knows both sides of the issue to lead it." He placed the glass on the table and stood up, approaching the count. "Would you be up for it?"
The count stared at the duke, as if studying him for every slight action. Finally, he said slowly and certainly, "Very well. I accept this position with humility and appreciation."
"Good! Good." Eldizio patted the young count on the shoulder. "You can tell your father for me. And give him my warmest regards and hopes for a quick recovery. You are dismissed, count."
The grand duke turned and returned to the glass, picking it up and sipping casually. Guido stared at the Potenzan monarch for what seemed like much more than a few seconds, then turned and walked out. The Eldizio continued to sip his wine, listening to the click-plop disappear down the hallway. Eventually it was replaced by much more regular footsteps, ones that the grand duke recognized belonging to his son and heir, Drago.
"Father!" Drago said, stepping into the room and shutting the door. "That was Guido!"
"Yes, yes it was," Eldizio said, putting the glass down and turning to his son, giving him a serious expression, "I just made him head of the Chamber of Nobles."
Drago's mouth dropped far, so far that Giovanna had to keep herself from laughing, and then blushed that she almost did so. "But why?" the heir asked. "Father, you said he was dangerous!"
"Have you ever heard the expression - keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? Well, it proves true here. I need Guido somewhere where I can keep an eye on him. I also need him somewhere where I can truly see if the rumors about his character are true. Sharks come closer to the water if you drop but a small amount of blood. Besides...I need to give him some legitimacy on the international scene."
"Why is that? I don't understand, father."
Guido suddenly turned and stretched his arm out to a small table near his chair. He snatched a piece of paper and handed it towards Drago: "Read."
The Visconti count read over the sheet of paper before lifting his eyes back to Eldizio: "An invitation from Franken."
"Yes, for myself and your mother." Eldizio turned towards Giovanna and smiling, as if letting his daughter know he still acknowledged her presence, "I'm sure you all would enjoy visiting Franken, yes?" Giovanna smiled and giggled slightly.
"So you are going, father?"
"Not at all! Don't be so stupid boy! Have you forgotten that Franken is at war with Engellex? Don't forget that our house only reigns in Potenza primarily because of Engellex. They have maintained strong ties to the Visconti house for over two hundred years. Right now they're at war with the entire EDF, and they're getting trigger happy over every small change in their sphere of influence. They're pointing guns at Nicosia because of the changes going on there, and already, here at Potenza, they're looking with worried eyes only because we have a new prime minister. Do you know what it will look like if the grand duke and his wife set foot on enemy territory to discuss relations? You'll have every soldier in Montelimar point their barrels south and march right on to San Salvo."
Drago looked down, his eyes similar to those of a whipped puppy, "I understand father."
"But all the same," continued Eldizio, his tone getting softer, "I can't pass this up. No, I can't go...but I can send others who can. And Guido will be one of them. I'll also send Teodoro from the House of Grimaldi..."
"The priest?"
"Yes, he's spokesman for the Archdiocese of San Salvo. He might even receive a promotion from the church if he's chosen to do so. Franken wants to better relations with the Catholic Church in Potenza, let him sort it out. And Count Niccolo as well, just to throw in some culture, and because he's making headway and will be well known there. In any case, I'll send them to Franken and let them mingle with the politicians there. This will serve many purposes. For one, it permits ties to Franken without seemingly contradicting Neustrema. For another, if Guido attempts anything, I will have grounds to arrest him, and I will be justified. As I said, a shark draws closer to water if you drop just a bit of blood - that's how you lure them in for the kill."
Guido glanced down at his glass, which was now empty. Giovanna, catching notice of this, immediately stood up and walked over, picking up the wine bottle and presenting it to her father. He smiled and leaned over, kissing her on the cheek, "No, not right now. My mind is focused - I can't lose my senses too much at a time like this."
Grimaldi Family Estate
20-miles outside of Turin
"There are many who will not appreciate this."
These words were said by Teodoro di Grimaldi around eight in the evening, as he wore his priestly robes and stood in his private study, graciously given to him by his father, the Grimaldi duke. Before him was the elderly Tzeitel, an elderly Germanic priest who had been sent by Potenza by the Catholic Church, and who had just delivered the news to Teodoro that he was to be given the position of Episcopal Vicar. This would make him the right hand man of the Bishop of San Salvo, and effective coordinator of all that happened within the Archdiocese of San Salvo.
"Many will mumble among themselves, to be sure," replied Tzeitel, approaching Teodoro, "but people always grumble. It's jealousy, and it pervades everywhere, even the Church of Christ. My boy, you are like our blessed apostle Saint Paul, who was advanced beyond many of his peers, and you have done so with great skill. The bishop knows this. This is why you have been appointed."
Teodoro was still a fairly young man for such a position - just 27-years old. He was of thin frame and modest build, and although he wasn't astonishingly handsome, for the average Potenzan woman on the street, he was rather attractive. For this reason he was often invited to speak to high schools or universities, as it was expected he would click far better with the young people inside.
"People will say I only achieved such a rank because of my father. That is why I have avoided any advancement beyond my priesthood thus far, brother."
Tzeitel nodded, "You are a humble boy, Teodoro. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but you plucked it out. However, do not confuse the blessings of God for temptations of breaking humility. It matters not whether people will grumble about the cause of your promotion. If God has called you to such a position, you should embrace it."
Suddenly, a Grimaldi servant opened the door:
"Forgive me, uh...father. I didn't mean to interrupt. Her Royal Highness is calling for you. She says it's urgent."
A warm smile crossed Teodoro's lips, "Luigiana...pardon me, brother."
"Of course, do what you must.."
Tzeitel held out his hand and Teodoro graciously kissed his ring, then headed out of the room. He followed the servant down the hall, almost across the palace, until they arrived outside the room of the young, 7-year old countess. Teodoro asked the servant to wait outside, then stepped in, shutting the door. When he turned towards Luigiana's bed, he saw the young girl huddled under the sheets, the finely tailored comforter up to her lips, and two wide, dark eyes staring back at him.
"What is the matter, Luigiana?"
She pointed towards her closet, "Brother! Brother! There's a demon in my closet! I know there is!"
"A demon?" Teodoro feigned shock. "Surely not! How do you know?"
"I heard a noise. I was too scared to check. I didn't know what to do. Please, drive him away!"
"Oh ho, well, let me tackle this scary demon head on..."
As Teodoro made for the large closet at the end of Luigiana's room, the countess gave a small cry:
"No! It's dangerous! He might hurt you!"
Teodoro gave his younger sister a confident smile, "I am blessed by the Holy Spirit and a descendant of the apostles, Luigiana - he shall not touch me! Fear not."
Teodoro opened the closet and stepped in, keeping the door cracked ever so slightly. He looked out and saw Luigiana staring intently in his direction. He advanced towards one side of the closet and then said aloud:
"See here, who disturbs my younger sister, Her Royal Highness the Countess Luigiana di Grimaldi! Be you a demon?"
He stepped over to the other side of the closet and said in a faux demon voice:
"Demon! Bah, do you speak to one so esteemed as myself so!"
Teodoro heard Luigiana gasp, and he continued, in his normal voice:
"Esteemed? You pretend rank? You must be one of the devil's princes, then." And then, in the faux voice:
"Prince? You insult me! Do you not know who you speak to? T'is I, the King of Hell himself!"
Luigiana cried out from her bed, "Lucifer! Brother, run!"
Teodoro continued, in his normal voice:
"King of Hell? You must be Lucifer! Why do you bother my sister so? What have you to do with her?" Then, in his faux voice:
"With her? Why, I have come because I hear she is a simple acquisition...for I hear she does not say her prayers before sleep!"
"That's not true!" Luigiana cried. "I pray!"
"You exaggerate," Teodoro said aloud, in his normal voice, "my sister says her prayers every night. I have trained her to do so."
"Well then," continued Teodoro, in his faux voice, "I come because she does not pray the rosary, nor honor the Lord's mother!"
"That's not true!" Luigiana said, in an even more excited voice. "I do every day! He's lying!"
"Aha, Satan," said Teodoro, normally, "our Blessed Lord was right when he called you Father of Lies, for you seem unable to do anything but lie." Then, in his faux voice:
"On the contrary! Let's see the girl prove herself! I bet she doesn't remember how the Lord instructed her to pray!"
"I do too!" said Luigiana, and she sat up in bed and proceeded to recite the Lord's Prayer. As soon as she began to do so, Teodoro began to cry out in his demon voice, pretending pain and slamming his fists against the walls of the closet, telling her to stop. As she neared the end he softened his cries, attempting to sound like someone melting or being thrown somewhere. As soon as Luigiana uttered "amen," Teodoro stepped out of the closet and slammed it shut. He grinned towards Luigiana and walked over to her, patting her head:
"He's gone now. Now get to sleep - if he comes back, you know what to do. He can't harm you with the Lord's protection."
Luigiana smiled and leaped up, wrapping her arms around her brother. Teodoro hugged her back, patting her head.
"I love you, brother!"
20-miles outside of Turin
"There are many who will not appreciate this."
These words were said by Teodoro di Grimaldi around eight in the evening, as he wore his priestly robes and stood in his private study, graciously given to him by his father, the Grimaldi duke. Before him was the elderly Tzeitel, an elderly Germanic priest who had been sent by Potenza by the Catholic Church, and who had just delivered the news to Teodoro that he was to be given the position of Episcopal Vicar. This would make him the right hand man of the Bishop of San Salvo, and effective coordinator of all that happened within the Archdiocese of San Salvo.
"Many will mumble among themselves, to be sure," replied Tzeitel, approaching Teodoro, "but people always grumble. It's jealousy, and it pervades everywhere, even the Church of Christ. My boy, you are like our blessed apostle Saint Paul, who was advanced beyond many of his peers, and you have done so with great skill. The bishop knows this. This is why you have been appointed."
Teodoro was still a fairly young man for such a position - just 27-years old. He was of thin frame and modest build, and although he wasn't astonishingly handsome, for the average Potenzan woman on the street, he was rather attractive. For this reason he was often invited to speak to high schools or universities, as it was expected he would click far better with the young people inside.
"People will say I only achieved such a rank because of my father. That is why I have avoided any advancement beyond my priesthood thus far, brother."
Tzeitel nodded, "You are a humble boy, Teodoro. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but you plucked it out. However, do not confuse the blessings of God for temptations of breaking humility. It matters not whether people will grumble about the cause of your promotion. If God has called you to such a position, you should embrace it."
Suddenly, a Grimaldi servant opened the door:
"Forgive me, uh...father. I didn't mean to interrupt. Her Royal Highness is calling for you. She says it's urgent."
A warm smile crossed Teodoro's lips, "Luigiana...pardon me, brother."
"Of course, do what you must.."
Tzeitel held out his hand and Teodoro graciously kissed his ring, then headed out of the room. He followed the servant down the hall, almost across the palace, until they arrived outside the room of the young, 7-year old countess. Teodoro asked the servant to wait outside, then stepped in, shutting the door. When he turned towards Luigiana's bed, he saw the young girl huddled under the sheets, the finely tailored comforter up to her lips, and two wide, dark eyes staring back at him.
"What is the matter, Luigiana?"
She pointed towards her closet, "Brother! Brother! There's a demon in my closet! I know there is!"
"A demon?" Teodoro feigned shock. "Surely not! How do you know?"
"I heard a noise. I was too scared to check. I didn't know what to do. Please, drive him away!"
"Oh ho, well, let me tackle this scary demon head on..."
As Teodoro made for the large closet at the end of Luigiana's room, the countess gave a small cry:
"No! It's dangerous! He might hurt you!"
Teodoro gave his younger sister a confident smile, "I am blessed by the Holy Spirit and a descendant of the apostles, Luigiana - he shall not touch me! Fear not."
Teodoro opened the closet and stepped in, keeping the door cracked ever so slightly. He looked out and saw Luigiana staring intently in his direction. He advanced towards one side of the closet and then said aloud:
"See here, who disturbs my younger sister, Her Royal Highness the Countess Luigiana di Grimaldi! Be you a demon?"
He stepped over to the other side of the closet and said in a faux demon voice:
"Demon! Bah, do you speak to one so esteemed as myself so!"
Teodoro heard Luigiana gasp, and he continued, in his normal voice:
"Esteemed? You pretend rank? You must be one of the devil's princes, then." And then, in the faux voice:
"Prince? You insult me! Do you not know who you speak to? T'is I, the King of Hell himself!"
Luigiana cried out from her bed, "Lucifer! Brother, run!"
Teodoro continued, in his normal voice:
"King of Hell? You must be Lucifer! Why do you bother my sister so? What have you to do with her?" Then, in his faux voice:
"With her? Why, I have come because I hear she is a simple acquisition...for I hear she does not say her prayers before sleep!"
"That's not true!" Luigiana cried. "I pray!"
"You exaggerate," Teodoro said aloud, in his normal voice, "my sister says her prayers every night. I have trained her to do so."
"Well then," continued Teodoro, in his faux voice, "I come because she does not pray the rosary, nor honor the Lord's mother!"
"That's not true!" Luigiana said, in an even more excited voice. "I do every day! He's lying!"
"Aha, Satan," said Teodoro, normally, "our Blessed Lord was right when he called you Father of Lies, for you seem unable to do anything but lie." Then, in his faux voice:
"On the contrary! Let's see the girl prove herself! I bet she doesn't remember how the Lord instructed her to pray!"
"I do too!" said Luigiana, and she sat up in bed and proceeded to recite the Lord's Prayer. As soon as she began to do so, Teodoro began to cry out in his demon voice, pretending pain and slamming his fists against the walls of the closet, telling her to stop. As she neared the end he softened his cries, attempting to sound like someone melting or being thrown somewhere. As soon as Luigiana uttered "amen," Teodoro stepped out of the closet and slammed it shut. He grinned towards Luigiana and walked over to her, patting her head:
"He's gone now. Now get to sleep - if he comes back, you know what to do. He can't harm you with the Lord's protection."
Luigiana smiled and leaped up, wrapping her arms around her brother. Teodoro hugged her back, patting her head.
"I love you, brother!"
Great Engellex
Established Nation
Lancaster House, the Embassy of Great Engellex in San Salvo December 19 2011
There you are, entered the Countess of Egincourt, this embassy is most confusing. She smiled and walked up to her husband, the Engellexic Ambassador to Potenza. Do you think this is the right dress for the Ambassador’s Ball? She asked, admiring the work around the bust. I think it is charming, remarked the Count of Egincourt. It’s not too low? Her husband moved closer and smiled, in Potenza? Laughing together the Countess embraced her husband. Very well, I shall wear it. I prefer it to the other one I brought, she said highlighting the lace. You look beautiful in anything my darling. Come, I will walk you to your suite.
The ambassador’s wife’s wardrobe was always of the greatest importance to her and, interestingly, the Northern Department. At the Ambassador’s Court, a colloquial term for the important ambassadors of Engellex, the Great Ladies - the wives - were instructed to sponsor an array of magnificent costume that was representative of both Engellexic fashion and that of the host country, in the case of the Countess of Egincourt this meant Pontenzan, and at the traditional Ambassador’s Ball (hosted by the ambassador’s to Potenza, Greater Sarmatia, Wiese, Franken, Talemantros and Touzen) the wives followed these instructions but with greater opulence that was equal to that of Dulwich. It was a pretty and expensive compliment the Northern Department pays by respecting the capitals that host them as equals of the Imperial Metropolis. Every detail of public life was strictly regulated for diplomatic wives by the Northern Department, from the number of diamonds they wore to their presentation, to the height of their hair and the length of the court mourning observed. They had to work hard to fulfil the duties expected of them at court and few truly found amusement in it all, the Countess of Egincourt was one.
For the Ambassador’s Ball at Christmas the Countess did the honours at the great ball given by her husband the Count of Egincourt. The seasonal celebrations will be taking place at the new hall that was just finished but two months ago; it was an enlargement of the ballroom of the embassy in central San Salvo. The new ballroom was three times bigger than the one in Nurnberg though not as big as that in Greater Sarmatia, and despite it being winter the room was kept warm by many grand ornamental heated stoves. The entire marble-white ballroom was decorated with Potenzan garlands with seasonal flowers; an immense circle of candles supported on a wreath of holly and ivy dangled from the ceiling on such fine wires that the whole seemed held in place by magic. Traditional evergreen Christmas trees had also been arranged into two rows, or walks, on either side of the hall, leaving a good space for dancing in the middle. The Countess had especially arranged this as, she observed to her Master of the Household, it made it possible for the company to sit down and rest without distracting them (referring to the royal of Potenza that are invited).
Later in the evening.
[..] they’ve already invited representatives, or their Majesties, I cannot tell which, to Nurnberg for Christmas. You may feel this will have some bearing on the date her Majesty intends to make her next move, spoke the ambassador the Northern Secretary over the phone. Does it? Queried Sir Pelham-Holles.
It amounts to this sir, if my observations are correct, and I strongly believe they are, then unless the government announces the annexation of Lille soon we shall not be able to announce it at all, without seeming to escalate the Preutien Crisis, spoke the Count of Egincourt sternly. Well, it will upset Wiese, remarked the Northern Secretary. The Count agreed, which is why we must ensure on Pontenzan support; but you think the Duc (Fontaine-Harcourt) and the Minister of Mormant will agree to the annexation? Pelham-Holles smarted how it is Palmerston’s problem, not mine. Besides, we have agreed to support them; but, of course, the annexation of Lille cannot depend on our friendship with the Grand Duke alone, there must be something of benefit to them which hinges on your belief that you can find something - or sell it.
Indeed, the Count replied, and I am quite confident on my assessments. The Northern Secretary pondered for a moment before instructing the ambassador, well, I think we should have it clear. I think you should request an audience with the Grand Duke and - and his Foreign Minister before we move.
The royal family will be invited to the Ball, but I will telephone the minister and ask him if we can meet, concluded the ambassador.
There you are, entered the Countess of Egincourt, this embassy is most confusing. She smiled and walked up to her husband, the Engellexic Ambassador to Potenza. Do you think this is the right dress for the Ambassador’s Ball? She asked, admiring the work around the bust. I think it is charming, remarked the Count of Egincourt. It’s not too low? Her husband moved closer and smiled, in Potenza? Laughing together the Countess embraced her husband. Very well, I shall wear it. I prefer it to the other one I brought, she said highlighting the lace. You look beautiful in anything my darling. Come, I will walk you to your suite.
The ambassador’s wife’s wardrobe was always of the greatest importance to her and, interestingly, the Northern Department. At the Ambassador’s Court, a colloquial term for the important ambassadors of Engellex, the Great Ladies - the wives - were instructed to sponsor an array of magnificent costume that was representative of both Engellexic fashion and that of the host country, in the case of the Countess of Egincourt this meant Pontenzan, and at the traditional Ambassador’s Ball (hosted by the ambassador’s to Potenza, Greater Sarmatia, Wiese, Franken, Talemantros and Touzen) the wives followed these instructions but with greater opulence that was equal to that of Dulwich. It was a pretty and expensive compliment the Northern Department pays by respecting the capitals that host them as equals of the Imperial Metropolis. Every detail of public life was strictly regulated for diplomatic wives by the Northern Department, from the number of diamonds they wore to their presentation, to the height of their hair and the length of the court mourning observed. They had to work hard to fulfil the duties expected of them at court and few truly found amusement in it all, the Countess of Egincourt was one.
For the Ambassador’s Ball at Christmas the Countess did the honours at the great ball given by her husband the Count of Egincourt. The seasonal celebrations will be taking place at the new hall that was just finished but two months ago; it was an enlargement of the ballroom of the embassy in central San Salvo. The new ballroom was three times bigger than the one in Nurnberg though not as big as that in Greater Sarmatia, and despite it being winter the room was kept warm by many grand ornamental heated stoves. The entire marble-white ballroom was decorated with Potenzan garlands with seasonal flowers; an immense circle of candles supported on a wreath of holly and ivy dangled from the ceiling on such fine wires that the whole seemed held in place by magic. Traditional evergreen Christmas trees had also been arranged into two rows, or walks, on either side of the hall, leaving a good space for dancing in the middle. The Countess had especially arranged this as, she observed to her Master of the Household, it made it possible for the company to sit down and rest without distracting them (referring to the royal of Potenza that are invited).
The beauty, fragrance and warmth of this new formed grove, and with, I hope, snow and ice through the windows, will look like an enchantment, and inspired my mind with our pleasing family engagements at pappa’s seat (ancestral stately home in the country).
In the rooms adjoining will be all the wines and delicacies of Potenza, and a Christmas (Engellexic) spread of course for the company, and when they all shall enter into the hall, the music and dancing in one part, and the walks and trees filled with beaux and belles, in all their birthday finery, instead of the shepherds and wise men, has me fancy myself in a fairytale, and Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream shall certainly be in my head that evening.
Wrote the Countess to her mother the Duchess of Henneveux.
In the rooms adjoining will be all the wines and delicacies of Potenza, and a Christmas (Engellexic) spread of course for the company, and when they all shall enter into the hall, the music and dancing in one part, and the walks and trees filled with beaux and belles, in all their birthday finery, instead of the shepherds and wise men, has me fancy myself in a fairytale, and Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream shall certainly be in my head that evening.
Wrote the Countess to her mother the Duchess of Henneveux.
Later in the evening.
[..] they’ve already invited representatives, or their Majesties, I cannot tell which, to Nurnberg for Christmas. You may feel this will have some bearing on the date her Majesty intends to make her next move, spoke the ambassador the Northern Secretary over the phone. Does it? Queried Sir Pelham-Holles.
It amounts to this sir, if my observations are correct, and I strongly believe they are, then unless the government announces the annexation of Lille soon we shall not be able to announce it at all, without seeming to escalate the Preutien Crisis, spoke the Count of Egincourt sternly. Well, it will upset Wiese, remarked the Northern Secretary. The Count agreed, which is why we must ensure on Pontenzan support; but you think the Duc (Fontaine-Harcourt) and the Minister of Mormant will agree to the annexation? Pelham-Holles smarted how it is Palmerston’s problem, not mine. Besides, we have agreed to support them; but, of course, the annexation of Lille cannot depend on our friendship with the Grand Duke alone, there must be something of benefit to them which hinges on your belief that you can find something - or sell it.
Indeed, the Count replied, and I am quite confident on my assessments. The Northern Secretary pondered for a moment before instructing the ambassador, well, I think we should have it clear. I think you should request an audience with the Grand Duke and - and his Foreign Minister before we move.
The royal family will be invited to the Ball, but I will telephone the minister and ask him if we can meet, concluded the ambassador.
Royal Palace
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
"Well, well, I have been expecting this some time."
Aldone, the grand duchess of Potenza, turned and smiled at her husband, who had just entered the room, wearing his elaborate evening robe. She was in bed, reading a small book with her long dark hair cascading down her shoulders. She was 55-years old, but still a very attractive woman, having descended from an esteemed of gastaldo raised up by Francis I himself. Eldizio took a seat in a chair beside the bed, holding a large card with one hand and a glass of brandy in the other.
"What is it?" Aldone asked.
Eldizio smiled at Aldone, "An invitation to the Ambassador's Ball at the Engellex embassy, here in San Salvo."
"Oh yes," said Aldone in her usual soft, reserved voice, folding her book, "they recently expanded the ball room, did they not? Oh, I bet it looks marvelous!"
"Yes, yes," said Eldizio, not wanting to jump from his train of thought, "I knew this ball was coming, but here's the official invitation, for this Christmas."
"Who is invited?"
"Myself, of course, but also you, as well as the entire household. Drago and Angiolo can definitely come, perhaps they'll find a nice Engellex girl to marry - they're pleasant enough, and seem to have a soft spot for Potenzan men. Giovanna can come as well, and with her husband Gavino - he's not a Visconti, but he's harmless enough, certainly less than that older brother of his. My brother Claudio and his son Constantino can come as well - it will be a lovely little Visconti reunion in some ways." The grand duke sipped his brandy before continuing, "Oh yes, Merlino's been invited too, and most of the cabinet. Also most of the top members of parliament...all the ones friendly to myself, any way. I rather made certain of that."
"Sounds lovely. I was hoping something marvelous would happen for Christmas." The duchess noticed her husband seemed to have a serious look on her face that didn't mirror her own joy. "Eldizio, why do you look so sullen?"
"Well, let's just say the duchy and the kingdom need to have a long chat about the current situation, and I think this will be time to make things better and let them know Potenza has no plans on breaking relations with Engellex or siding with her enemies. I've been neglecting the situation for too long, I fear. Now, in less than a month, we have a new prime minister and Engellex's enemy Franken attempting to woo us. If I were Engellex, I'd be worried myself. This all needs to be straightened out."
"You are being far too serious, dear," Aldone spread the sheets beside her down, patting the spot beside her, "now come to bed, keep your wife warm on this winter night."
Eldizio smiled, gulping the rest of the brandy down and putting the glass on the small table beside the bed, "I have to be serious, Aldone - I don't get a day off being from being grand duke on Christmas." He climbed into bed, and Aldone cuddled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Within a few seconds she was sound asleep, her soft breathing felt against the fabric of Eldizio's pajama shirt. He gave a soft sigh and began stroking her hair, running his fingers through the long, black locks. It hit him how secure he was at the moment, but secretly he pondered...how long would it last? Would there ever be a moment for him to rest as peacefully as she could?
"Rest, wife," he said quietly, "rest, in peace. You needn't be reminded that your husband lives perpetually under the sword of Damocles..."
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
"Well, well, I have been expecting this some time."
Aldone, the grand duchess of Potenza, turned and smiled at her husband, who had just entered the room, wearing his elaborate evening robe. She was in bed, reading a small book with her long dark hair cascading down her shoulders. She was 55-years old, but still a very attractive woman, having descended from an esteemed of gastaldo raised up by Francis I himself. Eldizio took a seat in a chair beside the bed, holding a large card with one hand and a glass of brandy in the other.
"What is it?" Aldone asked.
Eldizio smiled at Aldone, "An invitation to the Ambassador's Ball at the Engellex embassy, here in San Salvo."
"Oh yes," said Aldone in her usual soft, reserved voice, folding her book, "they recently expanded the ball room, did they not? Oh, I bet it looks marvelous!"
"Yes, yes," said Eldizio, not wanting to jump from his train of thought, "I knew this ball was coming, but here's the official invitation, for this Christmas."
"Who is invited?"
"Myself, of course, but also you, as well as the entire household. Drago and Angiolo can definitely come, perhaps they'll find a nice Engellex girl to marry - they're pleasant enough, and seem to have a soft spot for Potenzan men. Giovanna can come as well, and with her husband Gavino - he's not a Visconti, but he's harmless enough, certainly less than that older brother of his. My brother Claudio and his son Constantino can come as well - it will be a lovely little Visconti reunion in some ways." The grand duke sipped his brandy before continuing, "Oh yes, Merlino's been invited too, and most of the cabinet. Also most of the top members of parliament...all the ones friendly to myself, any way. I rather made certain of that."
"Sounds lovely. I was hoping something marvelous would happen for Christmas." The duchess noticed her husband seemed to have a serious look on her face that didn't mirror her own joy. "Eldizio, why do you look so sullen?"
"Well, let's just say the duchy and the kingdom need to have a long chat about the current situation, and I think this will be time to make things better and let them know Potenza has no plans on breaking relations with Engellex or siding with her enemies. I've been neglecting the situation for too long, I fear. Now, in less than a month, we have a new prime minister and Engellex's enemy Franken attempting to woo us. If I were Engellex, I'd be worried myself. This all needs to be straightened out."
"You are being far too serious, dear," Aldone spread the sheets beside her down, patting the spot beside her, "now come to bed, keep your wife warm on this winter night."
Eldizio smiled, gulping the rest of the brandy down and putting the glass on the small table beside the bed, "I have to be serious, Aldone - I don't get a day off being from being grand duke on Christmas." He climbed into bed, and Aldone cuddled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Within a few seconds she was sound asleep, her soft breathing felt against the fabric of Eldizio's pajama shirt. He gave a soft sigh and began stroking her hair, running his fingers through the long, black locks. It hit him how secure he was at the moment, but secretly he pondered...how long would it last? Would there ever be a moment for him to rest as peacefully as she could?
"Rest, wife," he said quietly, "rest, in peace. You needn't be reminded that your husband lives perpetually under the sword of Damocles..."
Grimaldi Family Estate
20-miles outside of Turin
It was an eerie silence in the Grimaldi palace. For all the long halls and large rooms, irregardless of the paintings and treasures of wars past (some taken by the Visconti after the war of unification), one would expect large amounts of echoes to be sounding throughout the building. However, there was no sound, save the footsteps of Count Niccolo di Grimaldi as the brother to the duke made his way towards the smoking room of the palace. As he opened the door he couldn't help but notice the large aura of smoke that rested in the corner. Under it was none other than his brother, the Duke Silvestro, puffing away at a cigar. By the amount of ash still remaining on the stick of tobacco, it was clear that he had been puffing away at it for some time.
"Something is ailing you," Niccolo said rather matter-of-factly. He walked over and took a seat beside Silvestro. The Grimaldi duke turned and nodded gently, then looked down. Niccolo waited a moment, as if to give Silvestro time to speak. As usual, however, Silvestro had little to say. Silvestro was a casual man, and easy to speak to, but when pressures came upon him, it was a bad habit to clam up. Niccolo was in many ways a godsend for the duke - where Silvestro lacked in words, Niccolo was otherwise a fountain.
"Is it the girl?"
The words were cold and distant sounding. "The girl" was Luigiana. It was rumored that she was the illegitimate child...and the rumors were true. No one knew who the mother was. Perhaps a countess from another family, perhaps a commoner off the street, perhaps one of the servants. Either way, Silvestro suddenly one day had a child. If Silvestro had been wise, he might have been open about the affair from the beginning, and declared her, officially, to be adopted into the family, as royals in the past had done to bastard children. Instead, Silvestro had foolishly chosen to lie about it, and was now dealing with the effects of that lie. If scandal rocked the Grimaldi family, he could lose his ducal position and bring great dishonor to all in the family. Hence even Silvestro's close relations had interests in keep Luigiana's past a secret.
"There's a way, brother."
Silvestro lowered the cigar and looked over at his brother. His eyes softened a little. It was pathetic, in a way - the duke was at a loss, but here came little brother, oh so smart and clever, to save the day. Surely he had a plan to end all his troubles.
"She's going on the journey to Franken with myself, Teodoro, and Count Guido," Niccolo explained, "when she's coming back...there could be an accident."
Silvestro frowned deeper, "Brother...you're talking murder."
"I'm talking of accidents," Niccolo "corrected," "something could happen. It would be a tragedy and there might be further talk, but afterward...no one would care any more."
"What about Teodoro? Are you saying he will die too?"
"We can try to avoid that. Don't you worry, Silvestro. He can be taken care of."
The Grimaldi duke looked down. He began to nervously chew at his finger, and he began to rock his left foot back and forth on his heel. Then, as if in exhaustion, he dropped his hand to his lap. With tears forming in his eyes, Silvestro nodded, "All right, brother...see to it."
20-miles outside of Turin
It was an eerie silence in the Grimaldi palace. For all the long halls and large rooms, irregardless of the paintings and treasures of wars past (some taken by the Visconti after the war of unification), one would expect large amounts of echoes to be sounding throughout the building. However, there was no sound, save the footsteps of Count Niccolo di Grimaldi as the brother to the duke made his way towards the smoking room of the palace. As he opened the door he couldn't help but notice the large aura of smoke that rested in the corner. Under it was none other than his brother, the Duke Silvestro, puffing away at a cigar. By the amount of ash still remaining on the stick of tobacco, it was clear that he had been puffing away at it for some time.
"Something is ailing you," Niccolo said rather matter-of-factly. He walked over and took a seat beside Silvestro. The Grimaldi duke turned and nodded gently, then looked down. Niccolo waited a moment, as if to give Silvestro time to speak. As usual, however, Silvestro had little to say. Silvestro was a casual man, and easy to speak to, but when pressures came upon him, it was a bad habit to clam up. Niccolo was in many ways a godsend for the duke - where Silvestro lacked in words, Niccolo was otherwise a fountain.
"Is it the girl?"
The words were cold and distant sounding. "The girl" was Luigiana. It was rumored that she was the illegitimate child...and the rumors were true. No one knew who the mother was. Perhaps a countess from another family, perhaps a commoner off the street, perhaps one of the servants. Either way, Silvestro suddenly one day had a child. If Silvestro had been wise, he might have been open about the affair from the beginning, and declared her, officially, to be adopted into the family, as royals in the past had done to bastard children. Instead, Silvestro had foolishly chosen to lie about it, and was now dealing with the effects of that lie. If scandal rocked the Grimaldi family, he could lose his ducal position and bring great dishonor to all in the family. Hence even Silvestro's close relations had interests in keep Luigiana's past a secret.
"There's a way, brother."
Silvestro lowered the cigar and looked over at his brother. His eyes softened a little. It was pathetic, in a way - the duke was at a loss, but here came little brother, oh so smart and clever, to save the day. Surely he had a plan to end all his troubles.
"She's going on the journey to Franken with myself, Teodoro, and Count Guido," Niccolo explained, "when she's coming back...there could be an accident."
Silvestro frowned deeper, "Brother...you're talking murder."
"I'm talking of accidents," Niccolo "corrected," "something could happen. It would be a tragedy and there might be further talk, but afterward...no one would care any more."
"What about Teodoro? Are you saying he will die too?"
"We can try to avoid that. Don't you worry, Silvestro. He can be taken care of."
The Grimaldi duke looked down. He began to nervously chew at his finger, and he began to rock his left foot back and forth on his heel. Then, as if in exhaustion, he dropped his hand to his lap. With tears forming in his eyes, Silvestro nodded, "All right, brother...see to it."
Private Room
An airport in Franken
Fr. Teodoro glanced at his pocket watch - a gift from the archbishop - to again see how long before their flight. It would be about two hours, as their plane was delayed, and already Luigiana was seemingly anxious. Indeed, she was a bundle of emotions: on one hand she wanted to get home as soon as possible so that this long trip would be over (ah, how little children understand diplomatic adventures!); on the other hand, she didn't want to leave Franken so soon, as she had become enamored by the fairy tale-like castles, historical buildings, and splendor which the region of Potenza could not compete with. She also could not part with the snow, which she knew she would see little of around Turin, once they returned home.
"Brother!" Luigiana cried. "Why is the plane delayed?"
"God wills it, Luigiana," Teodoro replied, "all things happen for a reason. Do not forget that."
Luigiana made a pouting face as only little girls could, "I am bored..."
"Well, perhaps you should study your German," Teodoro said. He reached over to his small bag and pulled out a German phrase book he had brought, just in case his memory, for one reason or another, failed him. He handed it to Luigiana and smiled, "Perhaps when next we arrive, you can impress their majesties with greater knowledge of their home language. It is no greater compliment to someone of another culture than to show respect to the language given them by God."
Luigiana smiled, partially at being given something to do, and partially at the prospect of returning to Franken and seeing the great nobles of this country. She took the little phrase book and looked at the first page, beginning to read the German slowly, and with no clear accent other than Tiburan one. Teodoro smiled and put his hands together, watching her attempt the language. It was then that he felt a tug at his robe. He turned and saw one of the Grimaldi aides standing behind him.
"Pardon, father," the man said, "a word...? I have a confession..."
This came as a surprise to the priest, but the man seemed a bit antsy. He was rubbing his hand up and down his sleeve and looking at the priest's feet, and his voice quieted as he said "confession."
"Of course," Teodoro replied, "this way. Come."
The episcopal vicar of San Salvo led the aide - much older than himself - out of the small room they were in, into another room, that turned out to be a janitor closet, of all things. Fitting, Teodoro thought to himself as they walked in, our Lord did say to pray in your closet...
"Now," began Teodoro, turning and facing the man with a warming smile, "what is it? Speak as if you are confessing before God, and nothing will leave this room."
The man looked up, his graying eyebrows thick and full, and then looked back down, giving a small: "Nothing...father?"
"Nothing," repeated Teodoro, patting him on the shoulder, "you have my word of honor. Now, what is it?"
The man continued to seem hesitant, "Father...while we were waiting for the plane, I...I felt I could not hide it any longer. As we waited, it just ate away at me, and I felt I had to confess...I just had to confess..."
Already Teodoro was presupposing confessions. He had heard all kinds: addiction to pornography, cheating on your wife, cheating on your husband, stealing from your parents, even at one point involvement in embezzling and insider trading...but what left the man's stuttering lips was completely unexpected.
"Father," the man began, "I...I've been told to kill Luigiana!"
Teodoro's face fell, and it fell hard. All joy left his composure. His face turned a visible white.
"Speak again, sir?"
The man held back tears, and fell on his knees, "Forgive me, father! I've been hired to kill Luigiana! Your uncle, he told me too! He said I would be paid, and...I have a wife with cancer, father, we can't afford the treatment, and I didn't know what else to do...but...I can't. I can't, I don't want to go to hell!"
The man began to weep bitterly, gripping Teodoro's robes and drenching them with his tears. The Grimaldi vicar patted him on the back of the head, turning towards the door. Through it, he could hear the faint voice of Luigiana practicing her German. He recognized what she was saying...she was trying to say, "You look lovely" in German. The young countess had heard a Franken nobleman say it to his wife, and she seemed enthralled by how kindly he had said it. She was trying to say it in her best German, and each time she couldn't get the accent just right. She would pause, give a little angry huff, and then start again, trying to say it exactly as the Franken nobleman had said it.
"Forgive me..." the man said again, sniffing deep, speaking in fragmented syllables, "Father...forgive me..."
"Rise up," Teodoro said, taking the man by the shoulders and getting him back on his feet, "sir, you must tell me - how did they intend to have you kill her?"
"You were to go in two separate cars. She would be behind you. They were to separate you two. I would..." He swallowed. "I was to drive her somewhere alone and...and strangle her. They would then make it look like I had been attacked and she had been kidnapped...but..." He began to weep again, burying his face into Teodoro's shoulder, "I can't! I can't! I'm sorry, I should have never agreed! I'm sorry..."
Teodoro made the man face him again, "Look at me. Look at me. Cease your weeping. What you have confessed to me has absolved you of any sin you may have ever committed. Now listen...here is what we are to do..."
Some minutes later Teodoro stepped out, and the two men parted ways. The priest was alone with the countess again, who was smiling at him.
"Were his sins forgiven, brother?" Luigiana asked.
Teodoro smiled. He coughed, just a bit, as he choked back on tears. He stepped forward and sat beside his younger sister, "Yes...God forgives him."
"Oh good!" Luigiana closed the book, cuddling against her brother, enjoying the warmth of his robes. Her arms felt the dampness on the spots where the tears and fallen, and she immediately knew what had happened inside. She said innocently, "The Lord must truly love him, if He gave him the ability to cry..."
Teodoro hugged her as tightly as he could.
An airport in Franken
Fr. Teodoro glanced at his pocket watch - a gift from the archbishop - to again see how long before their flight. It would be about two hours, as their plane was delayed, and already Luigiana was seemingly anxious. Indeed, she was a bundle of emotions: on one hand she wanted to get home as soon as possible so that this long trip would be over (ah, how little children understand diplomatic adventures!); on the other hand, she didn't want to leave Franken so soon, as she had become enamored by the fairy tale-like castles, historical buildings, and splendor which the region of Potenza could not compete with. She also could not part with the snow, which she knew she would see little of around Turin, once they returned home.
"Brother!" Luigiana cried. "Why is the plane delayed?"
"God wills it, Luigiana," Teodoro replied, "all things happen for a reason. Do not forget that."
Luigiana made a pouting face as only little girls could, "I am bored..."
"Well, perhaps you should study your German," Teodoro said. He reached over to his small bag and pulled out a German phrase book he had brought, just in case his memory, for one reason or another, failed him. He handed it to Luigiana and smiled, "Perhaps when next we arrive, you can impress their majesties with greater knowledge of their home language. It is no greater compliment to someone of another culture than to show respect to the language given them by God."
Luigiana smiled, partially at being given something to do, and partially at the prospect of returning to Franken and seeing the great nobles of this country. She took the little phrase book and looked at the first page, beginning to read the German slowly, and with no clear accent other than Tiburan one. Teodoro smiled and put his hands together, watching her attempt the language. It was then that he felt a tug at his robe. He turned and saw one of the Grimaldi aides standing behind him.
"Pardon, father," the man said, "a word...? I have a confession..."
This came as a surprise to the priest, but the man seemed a bit antsy. He was rubbing his hand up and down his sleeve and looking at the priest's feet, and his voice quieted as he said "confession."
"Of course," Teodoro replied, "this way. Come."
The episcopal vicar of San Salvo led the aide - much older than himself - out of the small room they were in, into another room, that turned out to be a janitor closet, of all things. Fitting, Teodoro thought to himself as they walked in, our Lord did say to pray in your closet...
"Now," began Teodoro, turning and facing the man with a warming smile, "what is it? Speak as if you are confessing before God, and nothing will leave this room."
The man looked up, his graying eyebrows thick and full, and then looked back down, giving a small: "Nothing...father?"
"Nothing," repeated Teodoro, patting him on the shoulder, "you have my word of honor. Now, what is it?"
The man continued to seem hesitant, "Father...while we were waiting for the plane, I...I felt I could not hide it any longer. As we waited, it just ate away at me, and I felt I had to confess...I just had to confess..."
Already Teodoro was presupposing confessions. He had heard all kinds: addiction to pornography, cheating on your wife, cheating on your husband, stealing from your parents, even at one point involvement in embezzling and insider trading...but what left the man's stuttering lips was completely unexpected.
"Father," the man began, "I...I've been told to kill Luigiana!"
Teodoro's face fell, and it fell hard. All joy left his composure. His face turned a visible white.
"Speak again, sir?"
The man held back tears, and fell on his knees, "Forgive me, father! I've been hired to kill Luigiana! Your uncle, he told me too! He said I would be paid, and...I have a wife with cancer, father, we can't afford the treatment, and I didn't know what else to do...but...I can't. I can't, I don't want to go to hell!"
The man began to weep bitterly, gripping Teodoro's robes and drenching them with his tears. The Grimaldi vicar patted him on the back of the head, turning towards the door. Through it, he could hear the faint voice of Luigiana practicing her German. He recognized what she was saying...she was trying to say, "You look lovely" in German. The young countess had heard a Franken nobleman say it to his wife, and she seemed enthralled by how kindly he had said it. She was trying to say it in her best German, and each time she couldn't get the accent just right. She would pause, give a little angry huff, and then start again, trying to say it exactly as the Franken nobleman had said it.
"Forgive me..." the man said again, sniffing deep, speaking in fragmented syllables, "Father...forgive me..."
"Rise up," Teodoro said, taking the man by the shoulders and getting him back on his feet, "sir, you must tell me - how did they intend to have you kill her?"
"You were to go in two separate cars. She would be behind you. They were to separate you two. I would..." He swallowed. "I was to drive her somewhere alone and...and strangle her. They would then make it look like I had been attacked and she had been kidnapped...but..." He began to weep again, burying his face into Teodoro's shoulder, "I can't! I can't! I'm sorry, I should have never agreed! I'm sorry..."
Teodoro made the man face him again, "Look at me. Look at me. Cease your weeping. What you have confessed to me has absolved you of any sin you may have ever committed. Now listen...here is what we are to do..."
Some minutes later Teodoro stepped out, and the two men parted ways. The priest was alone with the countess again, who was smiling at him.
"Were his sins forgiven, brother?" Luigiana asked.
Teodoro smiled. He coughed, just a bit, as he choked back on tears. He stepped forward and sat beside his younger sister, "Yes...God forgives him."
"Oh good!" Luigiana closed the book, cuddling against her brother, enjoying the warmth of his robes. Her arms felt the dampness on the spots where the tears and fallen, and she immediately knew what had happened inside. She said innocently, "The Lord must truly love him, if He gave him the ability to cry..."
Teodoro hugged her as tightly as he could.
A road leading away from San Salvo airport
50-miles south of Turin
The limo driver wiped his brow nervously as he approached his destination. It was off to the side, on a road leading towards the more rural areas of western Potenza, just before the population of Turin began to creep upon the landscape. The black limo bore the marks of the Grimaldi royal house, but oftentimes that meant little out here. Especially knowing what was about to occur.
The driver stopped on the side of the road, then pulled down a dirt path that wine growers used to use in the middle ages, before many of them moved further south. He stopped at a clearing and waited. Sure enough, there they were - men hired by the Count Niccolo di Grimaldi, brother of the duke, coming out of the worn-down vineyards towards the limo.
One stopped short of the window and tapped it. When the driver had lowered it, the man asked: "Is it done?"
The driver looked down, motioning silently to the back seat. The man smiled and walked over, finding the door and opening it to find...a man in priestly robes stepping out.
"Good morning, gentlemen!" cried out Father Teodoro as he arose, greeting the armed men, who could do little but look at him with befuddlement. "Ah, but you're probably wondering what the episcopal vicar is doing out in the country. Well, I haven't had a chance to get some fresh air, and after a long flight, I need a moment to think for myself. So, the countess gratefully let me take her car, and I put her in mine, and we stayed behind for a small detour. Ah, but you were hoping to find her? She's probably safe in the Grimaldi homestead by now."
The men glared towards the direction of the driver and stormed off, heading back through the vineyards to their respective vehicles, hidden past them. Teodoro approached the driver, with his window still rolled down, and did the sign of the cross:
"Bless you - you will not be harmed, you have my word."
The driver didn't look up, nor did he make eye contact. He stared down, thinking about his wife, thinking even if he had done "the right thing," she had cancer, and there was no way to pay for her treatment...
It was then that a bundle of money fell upon his lap. He lifted it up, seeing that there had to be literally thousands worth of lira there. He gasped and leaped out of the car, turning towards the priest who was heading back to his seat.
"Father! W...what is this?!"
Teodoro waved his hand dismissively, "That? A small portion of the Grimaldi estate allotted to me - I don't do much with it. Vow of poverty and all that, you know."
The driver teared up and ran forward, clutching Teodoro's hand and kissing it many, many times.
"Enough, enough, don't thank me, thank the Lord for His providence," said Teodoro, "if there's any left you need, come to me, and I will provide you as much for you and your wife. Now come, I think I've seen enough of the country for now."
50-miles south of Turin
The limo driver wiped his brow nervously as he approached his destination. It was off to the side, on a road leading towards the more rural areas of western Potenza, just before the population of Turin began to creep upon the landscape. The black limo bore the marks of the Grimaldi royal house, but oftentimes that meant little out here. Especially knowing what was about to occur.
The driver stopped on the side of the road, then pulled down a dirt path that wine growers used to use in the middle ages, before many of them moved further south. He stopped at a clearing and waited. Sure enough, there they were - men hired by the Count Niccolo di Grimaldi, brother of the duke, coming out of the worn-down vineyards towards the limo.
One stopped short of the window and tapped it. When the driver had lowered it, the man asked: "Is it done?"
The driver looked down, motioning silently to the back seat. The man smiled and walked over, finding the door and opening it to find...a man in priestly robes stepping out.
"Good morning, gentlemen!" cried out Father Teodoro as he arose, greeting the armed men, who could do little but look at him with befuddlement. "Ah, but you're probably wondering what the episcopal vicar is doing out in the country. Well, I haven't had a chance to get some fresh air, and after a long flight, I need a moment to think for myself. So, the countess gratefully let me take her car, and I put her in mine, and we stayed behind for a small detour. Ah, but you were hoping to find her? She's probably safe in the Grimaldi homestead by now."
The men glared towards the direction of the driver and stormed off, heading back through the vineyards to their respective vehicles, hidden past them. Teodoro approached the driver, with his window still rolled down, and did the sign of the cross:
"Bless you - you will not be harmed, you have my word."
The driver didn't look up, nor did he make eye contact. He stared down, thinking about his wife, thinking even if he had done "the right thing," she had cancer, and there was no way to pay for her treatment...
It was then that a bundle of money fell upon his lap. He lifted it up, seeing that there had to be literally thousands worth of lira there. He gasped and leaped out of the car, turning towards the priest who was heading back to his seat.
"Father! W...what is this?!"
Teodoro waved his hand dismissively, "That? A small portion of the Grimaldi estate allotted to me - I don't do much with it. Vow of poverty and all that, you know."
The driver teared up and ran forward, clutching Teodoro's hand and kissing it many, many times.
"Enough, enough, don't thank me, thank the Lord for His providence," said Teodoro, "if there's any left you need, come to me, and I will provide you as much for you and your wife. Now come, I think I've seen enough of the country for now."
Grimaldi Family Estate
20-miles outside of Turin
Count Niccolo sat in the family library and quietly turned the page of a book he was currently reading. Next to him were a series of papers, most of them labeled "Neo-Reactionism Internationale" or something similar. He had otherwise been undisturbed until the door to the library opened, which caused his attention to shift from the book to the very end of the large, spacious library. He recognized a figure in black as Teodoro in his priestly robes, approaching briskly towards him.
"Hello, Teodoro," said Niccolo, smiling sweetly, "I heard you came back safe and sound from your trip."
"I am certain you heard many things," said Teodoro coldly, not showing any emotion as he approached his uncle, "I had a little bit of a problem on the way back."
"Oh? What was that? Did the Frankens mistreat you?"
"No...it was revealed to me that someone from our family had hired men to kill Luigiana."
Niccolo slowly stood up, though he didn't show any great shock, "That is astounding news. Tell me who the culprit is, and I'll have them swiftly disciplined."
Teodoro glared at his uncle, "You know damn well who it was."
"Such language unbecoming of San Salvo's episcopal vicar."
"Uncle, this is no time for games. I know it was you. Was father working with you?"
"I will not answer any question of guilt," Niccolo replied, sitting himself down and leaning back in the chair, "however - just to speak hypothetically - if I were involved, I would never do anything without my brother's approval. He is the duke, after all, and family patriarch - I cannot pretend to speak for him."
The room was silent as the two men stared at each other. Finally, Teodoro slowly shook his head, saying in a whisper:
"She's a little girl, and your own blood..."
"The former, yes, I agree. The latter, that has been questioned ever since she came on the scene, and I think you're well aware of that. You're being foolish to play innocent in that regard."
"Where she came from is of no concern, and she is not guilty of any of that. You cannot punish her for father's crimes."
"So long as she lives, she's punishment enough on him. If you truly loved your father, you would rid him of such a curse..."
"A curse!" Teodoro cried sharply. "A curse! A girl barely a teenager is a curse to a grown man and an entire royal family?"
"You are young and naive," Niccolo said, "and I think your devotion to a god of love has poisoned your mind in regards to reality. Entire monarchies have fallen because of something less than a young girl. Right now only two things are certain - either she dies and your father is freed of any guilt, or he dies, and she lives a life of uncertainty. Those are cold facts, but those are facts."
The episcopal vicar approached closer to the count, his hands gripping each other tightly as he said in slow, direct whispers:
"Uncle...if I ever find out you tried this again-"
"You'll what?" Niccolo cut in, suddenly raising his voice himself. "Excommunicate me?"
The library again went silent. Teodoro stared at Niccolo for a while before turning and leaving as briskly as he had come in, his long priestly robes flowing behind him and nearly getting caught in the door which he quickly shut behind him. Niccolo did nothing except watch him leave and then, at his disappearance, muttered, "Stupid boy..."
20-miles outside of Turin
Count Niccolo sat in the family library and quietly turned the page of a book he was currently reading. Next to him were a series of papers, most of them labeled "Neo-Reactionism Internationale" or something similar. He had otherwise been undisturbed until the door to the library opened, which caused his attention to shift from the book to the very end of the large, spacious library. He recognized a figure in black as Teodoro in his priestly robes, approaching briskly towards him.
"Hello, Teodoro," said Niccolo, smiling sweetly, "I heard you came back safe and sound from your trip."
"I am certain you heard many things," said Teodoro coldly, not showing any emotion as he approached his uncle, "I had a little bit of a problem on the way back."
"Oh? What was that? Did the Frankens mistreat you?"
"No...it was revealed to me that someone from our family had hired men to kill Luigiana."
Niccolo slowly stood up, though he didn't show any great shock, "That is astounding news. Tell me who the culprit is, and I'll have them swiftly disciplined."
Teodoro glared at his uncle, "You know damn well who it was."
"Such language unbecoming of San Salvo's episcopal vicar."
"Uncle, this is no time for games. I know it was you. Was father working with you?"
"I will not answer any question of guilt," Niccolo replied, sitting himself down and leaning back in the chair, "however - just to speak hypothetically - if I were involved, I would never do anything without my brother's approval. He is the duke, after all, and family patriarch - I cannot pretend to speak for him."
The room was silent as the two men stared at each other. Finally, Teodoro slowly shook his head, saying in a whisper:
"She's a little girl, and your own blood..."
"The former, yes, I agree. The latter, that has been questioned ever since she came on the scene, and I think you're well aware of that. You're being foolish to play innocent in that regard."
"Where she came from is of no concern, and she is not guilty of any of that. You cannot punish her for father's crimes."
"So long as she lives, she's punishment enough on him. If you truly loved your father, you would rid him of such a curse..."
"A curse!" Teodoro cried sharply. "A curse! A girl barely a teenager is a curse to a grown man and an entire royal family?"
"You are young and naive," Niccolo said, "and I think your devotion to a god of love has poisoned your mind in regards to reality. Entire monarchies have fallen because of something less than a young girl. Right now only two things are certain - either she dies and your father is freed of any guilt, or he dies, and she lives a life of uncertainty. Those are cold facts, but those are facts."
The episcopal vicar approached closer to the count, his hands gripping each other tightly as he said in slow, direct whispers:
"Uncle...if I ever find out you tried this again-"
"You'll what?" Niccolo cut in, suddenly raising his voice himself. "Excommunicate me?"
The library again went silent. Teodoro stared at Niccolo for a while before turning and leaving as briskly as he had come in, his long priestly robes flowing behind him and nearly getting caught in the door which he quickly shut behind him. Niccolo did nothing except watch him leave and then, at his disappearance, muttered, "Stupid boy..."
Open Farmland
20-miles South of Lucce
The silence of the morning was broken by the rapid-fire gunshots that echoed across the land. Birds stopped singing, deer ran for cover, and even the plants seemed to go still as if to say, "Not I! I will not oppose you, loud one!" A flock of birds rose up and flew away, fearing what usually followed gunshots, at least for their lot. Lucky enough for them, this was no hunting party, and these shots were meant for inanimate targets. On a stretch of farmland owned by the Morosini estate, the duke himself - Gustavo di Morosini - stood in his ceremonial uniform with several estate aides and representatives of the Beretta corporation behind him. The Morosini had long been proud of their military tradition - indeed, the first Morosini duke had been a condoittiere who had been elevated by a Grimaldi duke. The Beretta corporation and Morosini had historical ties since then. Although the Morosini family did not own the Beretta weapons manufacturers (save for some share in stocks), they had helped fund the first corporation and were the first royal family to buy weaponry exclusively from them. To this day they were one of the company's biggest patrons.
"Amazing little gun," Gustavo said, looking down the barrel of the pistol he had just fired, "permit me to try again." He emptied the magazine, loaded up a fresh one, and then proceeded to fire at the stack of hay just down the field. He fired in rapid shots - much quicker than a person normally would for a pistol - and didn't seem concerned that most of his shots were missing. They did little more than disturb the dirt behind the target.
"Astounding!" Gustavo declared. "I'm trying to jam the bloody thing, and it's not doing a thing."
"We had solved jamming issues on the .22 caliber models," a Beretta representative replied, "but we think with the 96A1 model we've managed to perfect the 9mm handgun's issues."
"Yes, I'd say so." Gustavo glanced over, catching notice of another figure approaching them. He first recognized the colors of the Torriani house, and then he noticed the familiar limping motion of Count Guido della Torre, the heir to the Torriani household.
"Ah, Count Guido," Gustavo said, emptying the magazine and loading up a fresh one, "there you are. I was worried you wouldn't find us. Excuse me." He turned and emptied another round at his target. Guido winced just a bit at the loud sounds the gun produced, gripping his cane nervously, though Gustavo seemed to handle the pistol as well as a child would handle a toy. At the sound of the first few click click click, Gustavo again marveled at the pistol, "Bloody thing! Three rounds and it still does well. And I'm trying to mess it up." He motioned towards Guido, holding the pistol handle-first out to the count, "Would you be interested in trying?"
Guido waved his hand, "I fear I lack the balance for it. Let's look at the target instead."
"Ah yes, very good."
The two men proceeded to walk out from the group, side by side one another as they neared the target. Guido purposefully waited until they were a good distance before saying:
"As you know, I've recently been appointed Lord Speaker of the Chamber of Nobles."
"Ah yes, I heard," replied Gustavo, opening up the gun and looking down the chamber, "congratulations to you, sir."
"Yes, and I'm concerned that Potenza has yet to develop a true intelligence branch."
"That is also true, I suppose. I've been out of the political spectrum for a while."
Guido turned, smiling towards the Morosini duke, "How would you like to lead it?"
"Me?" Gustavo spun the pistol twice around a finger and then planted it into his holster with the expertise only seen in action films. "What makes you think I'm qualified?"
"You have connections to the appropriate parties," Guido explained, "I also know you're far more knowledgeable of the goings on in government than you let on. I understand, however, that with many daughters and only one son and heir, you'd like to keep a low profile."
"Those are some of my motives, yes, my boy," Gustavo stopped before the hay stack, glancing down and looking at the paper target that had been attached, noting the places where shots had actually landed, "that and the Visconti house has never liked me, I feared."
"They don't despise you either, however," Guido continued, "but that's neither here nor there. If you'd like, I can nominate you as the founder and leader of a special branch of intelligence services designed to defend the country from enemies within and without."
"Sounds like a plan, but will Eldizio support it when you bring it to him?"
Guido yawned, leaning on his cane a bit, "I won't be the one to bring it to him. I was going to leave you to submit it to the Chamber of Nobles. I will support you in the endeavor. The rest of the Torriani should as well, and the Grimaldi might throw their lot in - they do like you, after all. The Cornaro and Visconti are a mixed bag, but I think the Visconti can be won with a bit of rhetoric."
"Anyone can," the Morosini duke said, taking out his pistol and admiring it again, "it has made me appreciate weapons makers better than politicians."
Guido raised an eyebrow, "And why is that, if I might ask?"
Gustavo smiled and held the pistol up near his face, "A gun means what it says, my boy."
20-miles South of Lucce
The silence of the morning was broken by the rapid-fire gunshots that echoed across the land. Birds stopped singing, deer ran for cover, and even the plants seemed to go still as if to say, "Not I! I will not oppose you, loud one!" A flock of birds rose up and flew away, fearing what usually followed gunshots, at least for their lot. Lucky enough for them, this was no hunting party, and these shots were meant for inanimate targets. On a stretch of farmland owned by the Morosini estate, the duke himself - Gustavo di Morosini - stood in his ceremonial uniform with several estate aides and representatives of the Beretta corporation behind him. The Morosini had long been proud of their military tradition - indeed, the first Morosini duke had been a condoittiere who had been elevated by a Grimaldi duke. The Beretta corporation and Morosini had historical ties since then. Although the Morosini family did not own the Beretta weapons manufacturers (save for some share in stocks), they had helped fund the first corporation and were the first royal family to buy weaponry exclusively from them. To this day they were one of the company's biggest patrons.
"Amazing little gun," Gustavo said, looking down the barrel of the pistol he had just fired, "permit me to try again." He emptied the magazine, loaded up a fresh one, and then proceeded to fire at the stack of hay just down the field. He fired in rapid shots - much quicker than a person normally would for a pistol - and didn't seem concerned that most of his shots were missing. They did little more than disturb the dirt behind the target.
"Astounding!" Gustavo declared. "I'm trying to jam the bloody thing, and it's not doing a thing."
"We had solved jamming issues on the .22 caliber models," a Beretta representative replied, "but we think with the 96A1 model we've managed to perfect the 9mm handgun's issues."
"Yes, I'd say so." Gustavo glanced over, catching notice of another figure approaching them. He first recognized the colors of the Torriani house, and then he noticed the familiar limping motion of Count Guido della Torre, the heir to the Torriani household.
"Ah, Count Guido," Gustavo said, emptying the magazine and loading up a fresh one, "there you are. I was worried you wouldn't find us. Excuse me." He turned and emptied another round at his target. Guido winced just a bit at the loud sounds the gun produced, gripping his cane nervously, though Gustavo seemed to handle the pistol as well as a child would handle a toy. At the sound of the first few click click click, Gustavo again marveled at the pistol, "Bloody thing! Three rounds and it still does well. And I'm trying to mess it up." He motioned towards Guido, holding the pistol handle-first out to the count, "Would you be interested in trying?"
Guido waved his hand, "I fear I lack the balance for it. Let's look at the target instead."
"Ah yes, very good."
The two men proceeded to walk out from the group, side by side one another as they neared the target. Guido purposefully waited until they were a good distance before saying:
"As you know, I've recently been appointed Lord Speaker of the Chamber of Nobles."
"Ah yes, I heard," replied Gustavo, opening up the gun and looking down the chamber, "congratulations to you, sir."
"Yes, and I'm concerned that Potenza has yet to develop a true intelligence branch."
"That is also true, I suppose. I've been out of the political spectrum for a while."
Guido turned, smiling towards the Morosini duke, "How would you like to lead it?"
"Me?" Gustavo spun the pistol twice around a finger and then planted it into his holster with the expertise only seen in action films. "What makes you think I'm qualified?"
"You have connections to the appropriate parties," Guido explained, "I also know you're far more knowledgeable of the goings on in government than you let on. I understand, however, that with many daughters and only one son and heir, you'd like to keep a low profile."
"Those are some of my motives, yes, my boy," Gustavo stopped before the hay stack, glancing down and looking at the paper target that had been attached, noting the places where shots had actually landed, "that and the Visconti house has never liked me, I feared."
"They don't despise you either, however," Guido continued, "but that's neither here nor there. If you'd like, I can nominate you as the founder and leader of a special branch of intelligence services designed to defend the country from enemies within and without."
"Sounds like a plan, but will Eldizio support it when you bring it to him?"
Guido yawned, leaning on his cane a bit, "I won't be the one to bring it to him. I was going to leave you to submit it to the Chamber of Nobles. I will support you in the endeavor. The rest of the Torriani should as well, and the Grimaldi might throw their lot in - they do like you, after all. The Cornaro and Visconti are a mixed bag, but I think the Visconti can be won with a bit of rhetoric."
"Anyone can," the Morosini duke said, taking out his pistol and admiring it again, "it has made me appreciate weapons makers better than politicians."
Guido raised an eyebrow, "And why is that, if I might ask?"
Gustavo smiled and held the pistol up near his face, "A gun means what it says, my boy."
Cathedral of the Annunciation
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
"I'm sure you've already read it."
Fr. Teodoro di Grimaldi turned towards the Archbishop Ildebrandino Conti, the elderly head of the Archdiocese of San Salvo. He was approaching 70-years of age, and showed a good amount of wrinkles over his face, with a good Tiburan nose sticking out of his face. The two men were in his office, located in the back of the cathedral. The cathedral was literally hundreds upon hundreds of years old, and had survived through many moments in Potenzan history and many climactic moments of the church. The chair the Archbishop Conti sat at had been the seat of countless archbishops before him, many known in the annals of Potenzan history, and the desk his arms rested on now had felt the arms of many men and many books of old which had rested upon them (and were now locked away in the cathedral's special library.
"I have, your eminence," Teodoro replied, "it's rather shocking."
Conti nodded, curling the side of his lip as if in pain, "Shocking is putting it lightly. It's downright rubbish. Listen to this: 'Jesus Christ and Karl Marx will walk side by side' - who thinks like this?"
"Those who put their faith in the tenants of man over the tenants of God," Teodoro replied.
"Well we can't have this next door," Conti said, "at least the schismatics to the north are smart enough to avoid this, so I have no worries about them. But the church has always been rife with this 'social gospel' nonsense. I'm certain your article will resolve the problem."
Teodoro blinked, getting a confused look, "Article, your eminence?"
Conti glanced at his episcopal vicar with an innocent smile, "Oh, forgive me, my son, often I speak quicker than my mind. Yes, I was wondering if you could write an article in response to this as soon as possible. I trusted you will know what to say to call this move out for what it truly is. We need to make sure the archdiocese is aware of where we stand. At the same time, I will have you present a prepared statement I've written to have sent to the Lusitanian Christians. We don't want to anathematize them just yet - but we want to make sure they get the picture on where we stand in all this."
Teodoro swallowed just a bit, feeling a nervousness growing in his belly. A lot had just been placed on his shoulders, but he was loyal to the hierarchy of the church, and when the archbishop called him, he answered.
"It will be done as you desired, your eminence."
He walked over. On cue, Conti held out his hand, and Teodoro gratefully kissed his knuckles.
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
"I'm sure you've already read it."
Fr. Teodoro di Grimaldi turned towards the Archbishop Ildebrandino Conti, the elderly head of the Archdiocese of San Salvo. He was approaching 70-years of age, and showed a good amount of wrinkles over his face, with a good Tiburan nose sticking out of his face. The two men were in his office, located in the back of the cathedral. The cathedral was literally hundreds upon hundreds of years old, and had survived through many moments in Potenzan history and many climactic moments of the church. The chair the Archbishop Conti sat at had been the seat of countless archbishops before him, many known in the annals of Potenzan history, and the desk his arms rested on now had felt the arms of many men and many books of old which had rested upon them (and were now locked away in the cathedral's special library.
"I have, your eminence," Teodoro replied, "it's rather shocking."
Conti nodded, curling the side of his lip as if in pain, "Shocking is putting it lightly. It's downright rubbish. Listen to this: 'Jesus Christ and Karl Marx will walk side by side' - who thinks like this?"
"Those who put their faith in the tenants of man over the tenants of God," Teodoro replied.
"Well we can't have this next door," Conti said, "at least the schismatics to the north are smart enough to avoid this, so I have no worries about them. But the church has always been rife with this 'social gospel' nonsense. I'm certain your article will resolve the problem."
Teodoro blinked, getting a confused look, "Article, your eminence?"
Conti glanced at his episcopal vicar with an innocent smile, "Oh, forgive me, my son, often I speak quicker than my mind. Yes, I was wondering if you could write an article in response to this as soon as possible. I trusted you will know what to say to call this move out for what it truly is. We need to make sure the archdiocese is aware of where we stand. At the same time, I will have you present a prepared statement I've written to have sent to the Lusitanian Christians. We don't want to anathematize them just yet - but we want to make sure they get the picture on where we stand in all this."
Teodoro swallowed just a bit, feeling a nervousness growing in his belly. A lot had just been placed on his shoulders, but he was loyal to the hierarchy of the church, and when the archbishop called him, he answered.
"It will be done as you desired, your eminence."
He walked over. On cue, Conti held out his hand, and Teodoro gratefully kissed his knuckles.
Prime Minister's Study Room
San Salvo, Potenza
Guido della Torre and Gaetano Merlino sat comfortably in the plush chairs that rested in the study room at the prime minister's quarters. The two men had rarely seen each other after the elections (Guido had intentionally avoided direct contact to not arouse too much suspicion), but were now catching up on old times. Merlino was eager to see his old adviser again, especially as his government was at last starting to get off the ground. Both men were seated and enjoying a beverage - Merlino his usual scotch, Guido a small glass of Potenzan-grown wine.
"Things are getting interesting," Merlino said, sipping his scotch, "the economy is starting to get back on track - at least they're expecting it to - our ministers are being invited to foreign peace conferences, and now we're having to respond to possible conflict in neighboring Lusitania. The days of Neustrema are over, I think."
"Neustrema, such an absurd said," said Guido curtly, "it never had a chance. I've seen infants plucked out of the womb at five months that survived far better in their early stages."
Merlin laughed, "That's a blunt way of putting it! But you're right. I don't see how it did anything except upset Potenza's allies and makes us look weak to our enemies."
Guido ran a finger along the edge of his wine glass, being silent for a few seconds before saying, "Tell me, what do you think of the situation up north?"
"Oh, Montelimar? Well we have to support Engellex, I suppose. Can't afford not to. They have interest in Potenza remaining a nice little ally. I don't have any real interest in upsetting the queen."
"Yes yes, but I mean in regards to how it's unfolding. Do you see a Potenzan hand in it?"
"That depends. We can't up and invade it. I've been talking with some business leaders about the possibility of expanding our economic interests north."
"That won't happen if the anarchist situation gets worse."
"Do you think it will get so bad?"
"You can never tell. But one thing is for certain - you need to demonstrate that Potenza has vital interests to the north, and you need to show that Potenza is not willing to bite if she has to."
"I see, so what do you propose, oh noble and wise count?"
Guido briefly snarled at that little jab, but quickly recovered his stoic composure, "Offer our military to assist the Engellex forces in their peace-keeping missions. They will serve alongside our ally's soldiers, and help give them room to breathe and focus on what they need to."
"What will that do?"
Guido smiled at the prime minister, sipping his wine before continuing, "It is a rule of history - where the military goes, the economy follows. Where the military leaves, the economy leaves. If you can provide Potenzan influence, Potenzan businesses will follow. If you provide an area of security, investors will see that there's room for a market."
"Ah, I see - but only the Grand Duke can order the deployment of troops. I don't see him wanting to send Potenzan boys and girls in uniform over the border."
"You won't have to ask him. Send an offer to Engellex through the ministry of defense, and let them know that there's an interest from your leadership. Politely ask them to request it through the duke, as he's the proper channel. Once Eldizio feels the pressure from Engellex, he'll have to comply. The Visconti are the puppets and the Engellex crown holds the strings that make them move - that string gets cut, the puppet falls. Get the queen on your side, and that Visconti hound will do whatever his master beckons."
"Good plan," Merlino smiled and suddenly finished his scotch in one gulp, "I'll do that soon. It wouldn't hurt to try to expand our economic ties with Engellex either - I haven't threatened any past trade deals."
"Good boy," Guido said, tapping his finger on the side of the wine glass, "I knew I made you prime minister for a reason."
San Salvo, Potenza
Guido della Torre and Gaetano Merlino sat comfortably in the plush chairs that rested in the study room at the prime minister's quarters. The two men had rarely seen each other after the elections (Guido had intentionally avoided direct contact to not arouse too much suspicion), but were now catching up on old times. Merlino was eager to see his old adviser again, especially as his government was at last starting to get off the ground. Both men were seated and enjoying a beverage - Merlino his usual scotch, Guido a small glass of Potenzan-grown wine.
"Things are getting interesting," Merlino said, sipping his scotch, "the economy is starting to get back on track - at least they're expecting it to - our ministers are being invited to foreign peace conferences, and now we're having to respond to possible conflict in neighboring Lusitania. The days of Neustrema are over, I think."
"Neustrema, such an absurd said," said Guido curtly, "it never had a chance. I've seen infants plucked out of the womb at five months that survived far better in their early stages."
Merlin laughed, "That's a blunt way of putting it! But you're right. I don't see how it did anything except upset Potenza's allies and makes us look weak to our enemies."
Guido ran a finger along the edge of his wine glass, being silent for a few seconds before saying, "Tell me, what do you think of the situation up north?"
"Oh, Montelimar? Well we have to support Engellex, I suppose. Can't afford not to. They have interest in Potenza remaining a nice little ally. I don't have any real interest in upsetting the queen."
"Yes yes, but I mean in regards to how it's unfolding. Do you see a Potenzan hand in it?"
"That depends. We can't up and invade it. I've been talking with some business leaders about the possibility of expanding our economic interests north."
"That won't happen if the anarchist situation gets worse."
"Do you think it will get so bad?"
"You can never tell. But one thing is for certain - you need to demonstrate that Potenza has vital interests to the north, and you need to show that Potenza is not willing to bite if she has to."
"I see, so what do you propose, oh noble and wise count?"
Guido briefly snarled at that little jab, but quickly recovered his stoic composure, "Offer our military to assist the Engellex forces in their peace-keeping missions. They will serve alongside our ally's soldiers, and help give them room to breathe and focus on what they need to."
"What will that do?"
Guido smiled at the prime minister, sipping his wine before continuing, "It is a rule of history - where the military goes, the economy follows. Where the military leaves, the economy leaves. If you can provide Potenzan influence, Potenzan businesses will follow. If you provide an area of security, investors will see that there's room for a market."
"Ah, I see - but only the Grand Duke can order the deployment of troops. I don't see him wanting to send Potenzan boys and girls in uniform over the border."
"You won't have to ask him. Send an offer to Engellex through the ministry of defense, and let them know that there's an interest from your leadership. Politely ask them to request it through the duke, as he's the proper channel. Once Eldizio feels the pressure from Engellex, he'll have to comply. The Visconti are the puppets and the Engellex crown holds the strings that make them move - that string gets cut, the puppet falls. Get the queen on your side, and that Visconti hound will do whatever his master beckons."
"Good plan," Merlino smiled and suddenly finished his scotch in one gulp, "I'll do that soon. It wouldn't hurt to try to expand our economic ties with Engellex either - I haven't threatened any past trade deals."
"Good boy," Guido said, tapping his finger on the side of the wine glass, "I knew I made you prime minister for a reason."
Visconti Throne Room
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
The Chamber of Nobles was meeting for the first time, and everyone was on egg shells. The various royal families rarely met together except for the coronation of a new grand duke, and even then it was mostly nothing more than pomp and circumstance. Yet now they were expected to meet as regularly as the parliament, and to function in a similar fashion. Due to the rather rushed nature of much of this, it was decided at the last minute to hold the meetings in the throne room. As there were no chairs, many were provided from a furniture manufacturer in town. They were all custom-made and quite beautiful.
The entire House of della Torre was there. Guido, the Lord Speaker by personal appointment of the Grand Duke, stood near the steps leading up to the throne, and impatiently glanced at his watch every now and then. Near him, in their respective chairs, were his younger brothers: the 23-year old Gavino, and the 19-year old Lodovico. Their uncles, the Counts Ignazio and Marco della Torre, sat beside them, talking among themselves. Between the sons and uncles, however, was the Duke Martino della Torre himself, looking very tired and unaware of where he was. On one side of him was his wife Julia, and to the other the Countess Francesca, the duke's sole daughter. Francesca held her father's hand and pet it gently, smiling at him. The aging duke was showing signs of dementia, and many could tell he had not long to live. Still, whenever he saw his daughter's eyes, he would smile softly, before gazing back down and into space. Francesca would in turn look towards her brother and give a knowing smile, as if to let him know she was still in control.
Next to the Torriani house was the House of Morosini. Duke Gustavo di Morosini sat in his throne, leaning against his hand with his legs crossed, seemingly rather bored. He was widower, and therefore sat with no wife beside him, but his three eldest daughters did provide him company: his 31-year-old eldest Enrichetta, the 28-year old Carlotta, and the 19-year old Adalina. Adalina herself was seated beside the 16-year old Mario, Gustavo's youngest child and currently the only direct heir to the Morosini house. Gustavo had just as many siblings as well: his younger sister Zita, who sat beside her husband the Count Marco della Torre, his other sister Tecla, and his younger brother Mauro.
On the opposite side, across the red carpet where the Grand Duke walked, was the Grimaldi house. Duke Silvestro was there, of course, with his wife Tiziana, though of all couples in the room, these two seemed the most detached. His three sons sat on one side of the couple: the 28-year-old Stefano, the family heir, the 27-year-old Teodoro, still in his priestly robes, and the 12-year-old Sergio. Luigiana herself was there, and sitting on Teodoro's lap, the latter giving her attention to keep her occupied. Duke Silvestro's siblings were also present: his younger sister Grazia, as well as his famous younger brother Niccolo. The latter sat next to his older brother and occasionally exchanged a few whispers, at times even hiding his mouth as if to keep his lips from the view of those who dared to read them.
Finally, there was the House of Cornaro. Of all the royal families, they were perhaps the smallest, and the most modest looking. While most of the royal families wore the regalia of royalty, the Cornaro wore outfits that looked like they were going to a business meeting at best. The Duke Prospero, the youngest duke in the room (at just 39-years) sat with his wife Lia, and though the two never said much to one another, their hands were fixed together, and seemed unwilling to separate. Their only child and heir, the 23-year-old Plinio, sat with them, looking about and keeping to himself. Prospero's own immediate family was much larger than his own: he had three brothers - Rinaldo, Vittore, and Cristoforo - and a sister - Sophia.
As the quiet hum of the various conversations was going on, the doors suddenly opened and a guard announced, "To your feet! Your Grand Duke approaches!"
All nobles rose to their feet - Francesca had to assist her father, who seemed confused by this sudden movement. Into the room marched the entire Visconti household, the ruling family of the grand duchy. First in walked Eldizio I, current Grand Duke, bearing the sword Alexandria at his side, with his wife Aldone following just a step behind him. Behind the royal couple were their three children: the eldest and heir apparent Drago, his younger brother Angiolo, and their youngest sister Giovanna. Behind them was their uncle Claudio, Eldizio's younger brother, and his own son Constantino. The Visconti walked down the red carpet and rose upon the small podium where the throne rested. Eldizio turned and sat upon the throne, placing Alexandria before him, while Aldone clutched his shoulder and stood beside him. The children and other Visconti relatives took their places behind the throne, facing the room. As soon as the grand duke and royal family were settled, everyone else seated.
"Proceed," Eldizio said curtly.
Guido bowed slightly, then turned towards the room:
"Distinguished nobles of Potenza - dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses - I am honored to serve as your first Lord Speaker, as I am sure you are all honored to sit in on the first Chamber of Nobles held within our unified Potenza. We are here, firstly as those born of noble blood, and secondly, as Potenzan citizens, who desire to see our nation remain strong when the world weakens, and glorious when the world turns dark. We are here today to begin a new tradition in the history of our royalty. In the past, our families were often at war with each other, and alliances were made and broken as quickly as the skies carry rain or shine. Now, however, we stand here in a symbol of noble unity and strength. Let us proceed, therefore, with this in mind, and not with minds driven towards malice or mistrust. Let me now permit an open call for those who would like to begin this session with new affairs."
Guido glanced towards Duke Gustavo. The Morosini duke planted his feet on the ground and was preparing to stand up...when Duke Prospero beat him to it.
"If it pleases your Lord Speaker...and your majesty," Prospero turned towards the Grand Duke, and the two men exchanged pleasant nods, "I think it would be fitting that we open up with a word of prayer. We mustn't forget the God who blessed our nation."
"I like him!" Luigiana said, pointing to Prospero and whispering to Teodoro, although her whisper was so loud most people in the room could hear her any way.
"Very well," said Guido, forcing a smile. He turned towards Teodoro:
"Episcopal vicar - why don't you honor us?"
Teodoro nodded and stood up, holding Luigiana in his arms as he did the sign of the cross and prayed:
"Heavenly Father, you have led this nation through many turbulent times. Through war, famine, disease and brotherly hate. Let us now proceed with our eyes towards the horizon, but our hearts towards you. Let us not forget your glorious name, higher than any chair in this room, nor your unbounded love, greater than the wealth of any family in this room. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit...amen."
At the conclusion of prayers, Guido said, "Any other pressing matters before this chamber?"
Gustavo began to stand up again, and did it so quickly that, if anyone else had started standing up, he would have beat them to it any way.
"If I may bring something to our attention," said Gustavo, "it is well known to many within government that Potenza does not have a functioning intelligence service."
Eldizio glanced towards Gustavo, "Our military and Carabinieri serve many of those purposes, do they not?"
"They do, but that is not their specialty. We wouldn't expect our brave Carabinieri to fight our wars, would we? Why then should we expect them to perform our espionage or counter-espionage?"
Guido cut in, "That is an excellent point, your highness. What then do you propose?"
"Here's the gist of it: suppose his majesty arrange for the creation of a special intelligence unit, answerable to him?"
Prospero suddenly interrupted, "It seems to me that if any intelligence unit is created, we should let it be among the cabinet his majesty gave to the prime minister."
"And what role would that serve?" Guido said. "The prime minister is but one head of state, and functions only in servicing the common people. His majesty, the Grand Duke, is another head of state, and nominally head of the nation, is he not?"
Eldizio had been listening quietly, spinning Alexandria from time to time. He glanced towards Gustavo and said:
"Duke Gustavo di Morosini, your point is valid. However, I believe the Duke Prospero di Cornaro is merely trying to say we should not rush into these things. What say the other houses?"
Now Niccolo di Grimaldi spoke, "Why should the prime minister have the intelligence unit given to him? It will get lost in the clutter of bureaucracy. Give it to the Grand Duke, and it will be far more organized under a central leadership. In like manner, the Grand Duke still retains executive power over the military and Carabinieri. If intelligence gives him some information that requires the use of either two, he will be better equipped to make the call."
Many nobles nodded their heads at that. Eldizio nodded towards Niccolo, then turned back towards Gustavo, saying, "You and I will talk more on this later in private, Duke Gustavo. Unless someone else wishes to comment, let us move on to other matters."
Guido smiled a little, and turned towards Francesca, who was likewise smiling. He had not counted on the Cornaro duke commenting on the matter, but he knew that the Grimaldi would most likely be for it. Niccolo's advice had helped soften any conflict with Gustavo's proposal. In any case, it was a positive situation whether or not the intelligence was granted to the grand duke or the prime minister. If it was given to the Grand Duke, Gustavo would most likely get the position, and Guido would have an ally close to Eldizio. If it was given to the prime minister, Guido could utilize his influence over the prime minister and prevent specific information from getting to the Visconti.
It was Niccolo himself who spoke again. He arose and, putting his hands behind his back, casually addressed the other nobles:
"If his majesty may permit me to speak again - not because I love to hear my own voice, but because I have something I would like to say. Our government is changing, and I believe it is changing for the better. We are like those in the Republic of San Salvo, who transformed their government bit by bit in order to find the most perfect model. Last year we handed control of the cabinet over to the prime minister, but at the same time we formed this noble chamber to give the nobility a greater voice in the affairs of government. Now I think we need to go a step further. Your majesty, I suggest you permit the reenacting of the ducal territories to all families present."
Many in the room began to murmur at that, surprised Niccolo would bring that up at such an early meeting. Eldizio was himself staring at Niccolo, seemingly unsure, and could only mutter an audible, "Explain, please, Count Niccolo."
"The parliament represents an elected body from provinces across the country. We need to counter that. I suggest that all dukes be given the territories they had before the war of unification. Therefore, we will have further representation of the country and her provinces. Greater power will be given to the dukes, who will serve in a higher echelon of leadership, and they may even be permitted to give titles to their family members to help utilize control over the nation. The Grand Duke will still retain absolute authority, and all dukes and counts will remain first and foremost vassals to him. However, noble power will be delegated from the Grand Duke downward, while responsibility will be seen from the common man up towards the Grand Duke."
Guido was listening as intently as Eldizio was. This was indeed a marvelous idea, and one that would grant greater power to the nobles while at the same time offering benefits to the nation. There was, however, one problem that Guido could notice - there was one royal family that was going to be lost in this.
"There is one issue that the Torriani may have with your idea, Count Niccolo," Guido said. He turned to Eldizio and bowed, "With all due respect to your person and your family, your majesty, you may know that the Torriani house were the original rulers of San Salvo and the surrounding area. That is, until Francis I drove us out in 1815. Would the Visconti be willing to return that?"
"Nonsense," Eldizio said, glaring back at his Lord Speaker, "the rulers of the nation should rule the capitol, do you not agree? The Torriani house, however, may be granted the original land held by the Visconti, to the southwest. That is, if anyone else would be interested in this."
"I would have no qualms with this," Duke Prospero said, "the Cornaro have always felt a tie to Turin, and they to us - I am certain they would adore feeling even stronger ties."
"The Morosini House would have no problem as well," Duke Gustavo said, "personally, I would enjoy giving the city government of Cremona a piece of my mind every now and then."
"And the Torriani House?" Eldizio said, turning towards Guido. The Torriani duke felt a slight chill run up the back of his neck at that. For all intents and purposes, Eldizio should have looked at his father, the Torriani duke - but it seemed apparent that Eldizio recognized Guido had the real power within the family, as his father had but one foot remaining out of the grave. "Would there be any qualms?"
Guido was silent, glancing towards his father a moment, then turning Eldizio, "I think you best ask my father, your majesty."
Francesca, as if on cue, turned and whispered to Duke Martino. The old man nodded, then turned and whispered something to Francesca, who turned towards the duke with a smile of her red, full lips:
"My father says there would be no qualms at all, your majesty."
Eldizio nodded, "Very well...I must say, Count Niccolo, you have an astonishing idea. However, I am wary of how much power it may take away from the people."
"The people have greater power now than ever, your majesty," Niccolo replied, his voice raising a little, "what I suggest will simply bring us into the greater forefronts of this politics. We cannot permit our people's love and trust in the nobility to be replaced by love and trust in a commoner's lower house. If that happens, we will be like no other monarchy in the world. We will become apathetic and weak, and soon we will be nothing more than a tourist's destination on the map - and after that, the nation will declare us useless and throw us all out. Even you, your majesty."
Eldizio was spinning the sword again as he heard Niccolo. He nodded silently, then, with a sigh, said:
"All right...we shall divide the Grand Duchy up into various duchies, and you will all be permitted to divide them up into counties as you see fit. However, all will still answer to the throne in San Salvo, where I still reign. Our nation will not be divided up under my watch. Is that understood."
The other nobles nodded and gave their assent.
"Good. Now, if there are no other pressing matters, I declare this meeting adjourned."
As the Grand Duke arose, so did everyone else in the room. Eldizio descended the small set of stairs, flanked and followed by his family, and disappeared with them all out the doors to the throne room. After the doors were shut, the hum of various conversations began again, as the various royal families began talking with one another over the course of the meeting.
Guido walked over to Francesca and run a hand slowly up her spine, whispering quietly, "Sister, dear - what did father really say?"
Francesca turned towards her brother, smiling knowingly, "I haven't the foggiest idea, brother. It was nothing except mumbles."
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
The Chamber of Nobles was meeting for the first time, and everyone was on egg shells. The various royal families rarely met together except for the coronation of a new grand duke, and even then it was mostly nothing more than pomp and circumstance. Yet now they were expected to meet as regularly as the parliament, and to function in a similar fashion. Due to the rather rushed nature of much of this, it was decided at the last minute to hold the meetings in the throne room. As there were no chairs, many were provided from a furniture manufacturer in town. They were all custom-made and quite beautiful.
The entire House of della Torre was there. Guido, the Lord Speaker by personal appointment of the Grand Duke, stood near the steps leading up to the throne, and impatiently glanced at his watch every now and then. Near him, in their respective chairs, were his younger brothers: the 23-year old Gavino, and the 19-year old Lodovico. Their uncles, the Counts Ignazio and Marco della Torre, sat beside them, talking among themselves. Between the sons and uncles, however, was the Duke Martino della Torre himself, looking very tired and unaware of where he was. On one side of him was his wife Julia, and to the other the Countess Francesca, the duke's sole daughter. Francesca held her father's hand and pet it gently, smiling at him. The aging duke was showing signs of dementia, and many could tell he had not long to live. Still, whenever he saw his daughter's eyes, he would smile softly, before gazing back down and into space. Francesca would in turn look towards her brother and give a knowing smile, as if to let him know she was still in control.
Next to the Torriani house was the House of Morosini. Duke Gustavo di Morosini sat in his throne, leaning against his hand with his legs crossed, seemingly rather bored. He was widower, and therefore sat with no wife beside him, but his three eldest daughters did provide him company: his 31-year-old eldest Enrichetta, the 28-year old Carlotta, and the 19-year old Adalina. Adalina herself was seated beside the 16-year old Mario, Gustavo's youngest child and currently the only direct heir to the Morosini house. Gustavo had just as many siblings as well: his younger sister Zita, who sat beside her husband the Count Marco della Torre, his other sister Tecla, and his younger brother Mauro.
On the opposite side, across the red carpet where the Grand Duke walked, was the Grimaldi house. Duke Silvestro was there, of course, with his wife Tiziana, though of all couples in the room, these two seemed the most detached. His three sons sat on one side of the couple: the 28-year-old Stefano, the family heir, the 27-year-old Teodoro, still in his priestly robes, and the 12-year-old Sergio. Luigiana herself was there, and sitting on Teodoro's lap, the latter giving her attention to keep her occupied. Duke Silvestro's siblings were also present: his younger sister Grazia, as well as his famous younger brother Niccolo. The latter sat next to his older brother and occasionally exchanged a few whispers, at times even hiding his mouth as if to keep his lips from the view of those who dared to read them.
Finally, there was the House of Cornaro. Of all the royal families, they were perhaps the smallest, and the most modest looking. While most of the royal families wore the regalia of royalty, the Cornaro wore outfits that looked like they were going to a business meeting at best. The Duke Prospero, the youngest duke in the room (at just 39-years) sat with his wife Lia, and though the two never said much to one another, their hands were fixed together, and seemed unwilling to separate. Their only child and heir, the 23-year-old Plinio, sat with them, looking about and keeping to himself. Prospero's own immediate family was much larger than his own: he had three brothers - Rinaldo, Vittore, and Cristoforo - and a sister - Sophia.
As the quiet hum of the various conversations was going on, the doors suddenly opened and a guard announced, "To your feet! Your Grand Duke approaches!"
All nobles rose to their feet - Francesca had to assist her father, who seemed confused by this sudden movement. Into the room marched the entire Visconti household, the ruling family of the grand duchy. First in walked Eldizio I, current Grand Duke, bearing the sword Alexandria at his side, with his wife Aldone following just a step behind him. Behind the royal couple were their three children: the eldest and heir apparent Drago, his younger brother Angiolo, and their youngest sister Giovanna. Behind them was their uncle Claudio, Eldizio's younger brother, and his own son Constantino. The Visconti walked down the red carpet and rose upon the small podium where the throne rested. Eldizio turned and sat upon the throne, placing Alexandria before him, while Aldone clutched his shoulder and stood beside him. The children and other Visconti relatives took their places behind the throne, facing the room. As soon as the grand duke and royal family were settled, everyone else seated.
"Proceed," Eldizio said curtly.
Guido bowed slightly, then turned towards the room:
"Distinguished nobles of Potenza - dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses - I am honored to serve as your first Lord Speaker, as I am sure you are all honored to sit in on the first Chamber of Nobles held within our unified Potenza. We are here, firstly as those born of noble blood, and secondly, as Potenzan citizens, who desire to see our nation remain strong when the world weakens, and glorious when the world turns dark. We are here today to begin a new tradition in the history of our royalty. In the past, our families were often at war with each other, and alliances were made and broken as quickly as the skies carry rain or shine. Now, however, we stand here in a symbol of noble unity and strength. Let us proceed, therefore, with this in mind, and not with minds driven towards malice or mistrust. Let me now permit an open call for those who would like to begin this session with new affairs."
Guido glanced towards Duke Gustavo. The Morosini duke planted his feet on the ground and was preparing to stand up...when Duke Prospero beat him to it.
"If it pleases your Lord Speaker...and your majesty," Prospero turned towards the Grand Duke, and the two men exchanged pleasant nods, "I think it would be fitting that we open up with a word of prayer. We mustn't forget the God who blessed our nation."
"I like him!" Luigiana said, pointing to Prospero and whispering to Teodoro, although her whisper was so loud most people in the room could hear her any way.
"Very well," said Guido, forcing a smile. He turned towards Teodoro:
"Episcopal vicar - why don't you honor us?"
Teodoro nodded and stood up, holding Luigiana in his arms as he did the sign of the cross and prayed:
"Heavenly Father, you have led this nation through many turbulent times. Through war, famine, disease and brotherly hate. Let us now proceed with our eyes towards the horizon, but our hearts towards you. Let us not forget your glorious name, higher than any chair in this room, nor your unbounded love, greater than the wealth of any family in this room. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit...amen."
At the conclusion of prayers, Guido said, "Any other pressing matters before this chamber?"
Gustavo began to stand up again, and did it so quickly that, if anyone else had started standing up, he would have beat them to it any way.
"If I may bring something to our attention," said Gustavo, "it is well known to many within government that Potenza does not have a functioning intelligence service."
Eldizio glanced towards Gustavo, "Our military and Carabinieri serve many of those purposes, do they not?"
"They do, but that is not their specialty. We wouldn't expect our brave Carabinieri to fight our wars, would we? Why then should we expect them to perform our espionage or counter-espionage?"
Guido cut in, "That is an excellent point, your highness. What then do you propose?"
"Here's the gist of it: suppose his majesty arrange for the creation of a special intelligence unit, answerable to him?"
Prospero suddenly interrupted, "It seems to me that if any intelligence unit is created, we should let it be among the cabinet his majesty gave to the prime minister."
"And what role would that serve?" Guido said. "The prime minister is but one head of state, and functions only in servicing the common people. His majesty, the Grand Duke, is another head of state, and nominally head of the nation, is he not?"
Eldizio had been listening quietly, spinning Alexandria from time to time. He glanced towards Gustavo and said:
"Duke Gustavo di Morosini, your point is valid. However, I believe the Duke Prospero di Cornaro is merely trying to say we should not rush into these things. What say the other houses?"
Now Niccolo di Grimaldi spoke, "Why should the prime minister have the intelligence unit given to him? It will get lost in the clutter of bureaucracy. Give it to the Grand Duke, and it will be far more organized under a central leadership. In like manner, the Grand Duke still retains executive power over the military and Carabinieri. If intelligence gives him some information that requires the use of either two, he will be better equipped to make the call."
Many nobles nodded their heads at that. Eldizio nodded towards Niccolo, then turned back towards Gustavo, saying, "You and I will talk more on this later in private, Duke Gustavo. Unless someone else wishes to comment, let us move on to other matters."
Guido smiled a little, and turned towards Francesca, who was likewise smiling. He had not counted on the Cornaro duke commenting on the matter, but he knew that the Grimaldi would most likely be for it. Niccolo's advice had helped soften any conflict with Gustavo's proposal. In any case, it was a positive situation whether or not the intelligence was granted to the grand duke or the prime minister. If it was given to the Grand Duke, Gustavo would most likely get the position, and Guido would have an ally close to Eldizio. If it was given to the prime minister, Guido could utilize his influence over the prime minister and prevent specific information from getting to the Visconti.
It was Niccolo himself who spoke again. He arose and, putting his hands behind his back, casually addressed the other nobles:
"If his majesty may permit me to speak again - not because I love to hear my own voice, but because I have something I would like to say. Our government is changing, and I believe it is changing for the better. We are like those in the Republic of San Salvo, who transformed their government bit by bit in order to find the most perfect model. Last year we handed control of the cabinet over to the prime minister, but at the same time we formed this noble chamber to give the nobility a greater voice in the affairs of government. Now I think we need to go a step further. Your majesty, I suggest you permit the reenacting of the ducal territories to all families present."
Many in the room began to murmur at that, surprised Niccolo would bring that up at such an early meeting. Eldizio was himself staring at Niccolo, seemingly unsure, and could only mutter an audible, "Explain, please, Count Niccolo."
"The parliament represents an elected body from provinces across the country. We need to counter that. I suggest that all dukes be given the territories they had before the war of unification. Therefore, we will have further representation of the country and her provinces. Greater power will be given to the dukes, who will serve in a higher echelon of leadership, and they may even be permitted to give titles to their family members to help utilize control over the nation. The Grand Duke will still retain absolute authority, and all dukes and counts will remain first and foremost vassals to him. However, noble power will be delegated from the Grand Duke downward, while responsibility will be seen from the common man up towards the Grand Duke."
Guido was listening as intently as Eldizio was. This was indeed a marvelous idea, and one that would grant greater power to the nobles while at the same time offering benefits to the nation. There was, however, one problem that Guido could notice - there was one royal family that was going to be lost in this.
"There is one issue that the Torriani may have with your idea, Count Niccolo," Guido said. He turned to Eldizio and bowed, "With all due respect to your person and your family, your majesty, you may know that the Torriani house were the original rulers of San Salvo and the surrounding area. That is, until Francis I drove us out in 1815. Would the Visconti be willing to return that?"
"Nonsense," Eldizio said, glaring back at his Lord Speaker, "the rulers of the nation should rule the capitol, do you not agree? The Torriani house, however, may be granted the original land held by the Visconti, to the southwest. That is, if anyone else would be interested in this."
"I would have no qualms with this," Duke Prospero said, "the Cornaro have always felt a tie to Turin, and they to us - I am certain they would adore feeling even stronger ties."
"The Morosini House would have no problem as well," Duke Gustavo said, "personally, I would enjoy giving the city government of Cremona a piece of my mind every now and then."
"And the Torriani House?" Eldizio said, turning towards Guido. The Torriani duke felt a slight chill run up the back of his neck at that. For all intents and purposes, Eldizio should have looked at his father, the Torriani duke - but it seemed apparent that Eldizio recognized Guido had the real power within the family, as his father had but one foot remaining out of the grave. "Would there be any qualms?"
Guido was silent, glancing towards his father a moment, then turning Eldizio, "I think you best ask my father, your majesty."
Francesca, as if on cue, turned and whispered to Duke Martino. The old man nodded, then turned and whispered something to Francesca, who turned towards the duke with a smile of her red, full lips:
"My father says there would be no qualms at all, your majesty."
Eldizio nodded, "Very well...I must say, Count Niccolo, you have an astonishing idea. However, I am wary of how much power it may take away from the people."
"The people have greater power now than ever, your majesty," Niccolo replied, his voice raising a little, "what I suggest will simply bring us into the greater forefronts of this politics. We cannot permit our people's love and trust in the nobility to be replaced by love and trust in a commoner's lower house. If that happens, we will be like no other monarchy in the world. We will become apathetic and weak, and soon we will be nothing more than a tourist's destination on the map - and after that, the nation will declare us useless and throw us all out. Even you, your majesty."
Eldizio was spinning the sword again as he heard Niccolo. He nodded silently, then, with a sigh, said:
"All right...we shall divide the Grand Duchy up into various duchies, and you will all be permitted to divide them up into counties as you see fit. However, all will still answer to the throne in San Salvo, where I still reign. Our nation will not be divided up under my watch. Is that understood."
The other nobles nodded and gave their assent.
"Good. Now, if there are no other pressing matters, I declare this meeting adjourned."
As the Grand Duke arose, so did everyone else in the room. Eldizio descended the small set of stairs, flanked and followed by his family, and disappeared with them all out the doors to the throne room. After the doors were shut, the hum of various conversations began again, as the various royal families began talking with one another over the course of the meeting.
Guido walked over to Francesca and run a hand slowly up her spine, whispering quietly, "Sister, dear - what did father really say?"
Francesca turned towards her brother, smiling knowingly, "I haven't the foggiest idea, brother. It was nothing except mumbles."
Visconti Palace Parlor
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
Within the halls of the large royal palace was an exquisite parlor that often functioned as a place to entertain or talk with dignitaries and other royal family members. It was quite a large room, with lovely decorated chairs, now bearing the seal of the Visconti house (having previously borne the Torriani seal), and walls decorated with the paintings collected throughout history. This included the famous painting of Grand Duke Francis I's son who was killed at the Battle of Cesena, and before which he reportedly fell down crying. There were also many windows that looked out into the sunny day, with a view of the San Salvo skyline not too far off. At this moment, servants and Visconti aides were busy putting the final arrangements for a special gathering of the various royal women in Potenza, which had been scheduled not too long after the meeting of the Chamber of Nobility, when all nobles would be in town.
Grand Duchess Aldone di Visconti was the chief of the gathering, as well as the one who had planned how to put it all together. She stood in the middle of the room, smiling pleasantly as the servants were gently fixing the glasses of water and Potenzan white wine, as well as the small treats in their golden bowls. She was wearing a lovely strapless blue dress with a large ruby necklace dangling from around her soft neck. She was putting on a very nice show, but there was a true ulterior motive to all this. The foreign dignitary invited to this gathering of royal women was Talemantros's own Theodora, whom Aldone had noticed her son Drago had clicked with at the event in Taleminiki. The Visconti heir, in fact, was in another room nearby, nervously pacing back and forth, wringing his gloved hands and wondering just how he was supposed to address Theodora when he saw her again. It's easy to introduce yourself the way the court tutors teach you, but afterwards it gets far more difficult. Drago's sister Giovanna, who Aldone had kindly excused from the gathering, was in the same room, attempting every now and then to give her brother encouragement.
The first to arrive was the Countess Francesca della Torre, letting her long, black hair cascade down over her shoulders, with a wonderful red strapped dress bearing a plunging neckline. She politely greeted the Grand Duchess with a curtsy and a smile of her full, red lips, and then went to a chair, where she took a glass of white wine and quietly sipped it.
Next to arrive were the two eldest daughters to Duke Gustavo di Morosini: the Countesses Carlotta and Adolina di Morosini. Both were wearing lovely silver dresses, although Adolina's was strapless, bearing her shoulders, while her older sister was dressed a bit more conservatively. Both bore little pins that had the familiar coat-of-arms for the Morosini house. Aldone greeted both of them and engaged in small talk.
The last Potenzan noble to arrive was the Duchess Lia di Cornaro. She was perhaps the most modestly dressed of all the women there, wearing what amounted to a lovely business top with matching blazer and pencil skirt. Her arrival cued the Morosini sisters to depart, going to another corner of the room and eyeing Fracensca every now and then. Lia and Aldone hugged one another, engaging in their own small talk.
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
Within the halls of the large royal palace was an exquisite parlor that often functioned as a place to entertain or talk with dignitaries and other royal family members. It was quite a large room, with lovely decorated chairs, now bearing the seal of the Visconti house (having previously borne the Torriani seal), and walls decorated with the paintings collected throughout history. This included the famous painting of Grand Duke Francis I's son who was killed at the Battle of Cesena, and before which he reportedly fell down crying. There were also many windows that looked out into the sunny day, with a view of the San Salvo skyline not too far off. At this moment, servants and Visconti aides were busy putting the final arrangements for a special gathering of the various royal women in Potenza, which had been scheduled not too long after the meeting of the Chamber of Nobility, when all nobles would be in town.
Grand Duchess Aldone di Visconti was the chief of the gathering, as well as the one who had planned how to put it all together. She stood in the middle of the room, smiling pleasantly as the servants were gently fixing the glasses of water and Potenzan white wine, as well as the small treats in their golden bowls. She was wearing a lovely strapless blue dress with a large ruby necklace dangling from around her soft neck. She was putting on a very nice show, but there was a true ulterior motive to all this. The foreign dignitary invited to this gathering of royal women was Talemantros's own Theodora, whom Aldone had noticed her son Drago had clicked with at the event in Taleminiki. The Visconti heir, in fact, was in another room nearby, nervously pacing back and forth, wringing his gloved hands and wondering just how he was supposed to address Theodora when he saw her again. It's easy to introduce yourself the way the court tutors teach you, but afterwards it gets far more difficult. Drago's sister Giovanna, who Aldone had kindly excused from the gathering, was in the same room, attempting every now and then to give her brother encouragement.
The first to arrive was the Countess Francesca della Torre, letting her long, black hair cascade down over her shoulders, with a wonderful red strapped dress bearing a plunging neckline. She politely greeted the Grand Duchess with a curtsy and a smile of her full, red lips, and then went to a chair, where she took a glass of white wine and quietly sipped it.
Next to arrive were the two eldest daughters to Duke Gustavo di Morosini: the Countesses Carlotta and Adolina di Morosini. Both were wearing lovely silver dresses, although Adolina's was strapless, bearing her shoulders, while her older sister was dressed a bit more conservatively. Both bore little pins that had the familiar coat-of-arms for the Morosini house. Aldone greeted both of them and engaged in small talk.
The last Potenzan noble to arrive was the Duchess Lia di Cornaro. She was perhaps the most modestly dressed of all the women there, wearing what amounted to a lovely business top with matching blazer and pencil skirt. Her arrival cued the Morosini sisters to depart, going to another corner of the room and eyeing Fracensca every now and then. Lia and Aldone hugged one another, engaging in their own small talk.
(OOC: The last post is still relevant, but as Talemantros is busy, we can get to it later - in the meantime, I can't freeze all my internal RP. Consider this post to be set after the last post, and when we continue the previous little mini-story, we can assume it's taking place before).
Grimaldi Family Estate
Outside of Turin
Count Niccolo di Grimaldi had just returned from a personal trip to the city of Turin, a day after the House of Grimaldi had returned as rightful dukes to the city and its surrounding regions. He had spoken to the mayor and the head of the local law enforcement ministry branch, then driven by the protests themselves. What he saw were large numbers of people - many of them university students - sitting and listening to speeches and music. Many didn't seem all that concerned or interested, while plenty more were holding signs and cheering whoever was on stage. There were a few parliamentary ministers that Niccolo recognized, as well as perhaps a celebrity or two. The only thing he cursed himself for was mistakenly leaving the Grimaldi flag on the front of the vehicle. It drew the attention of some of the protesters, who quickly called others, and soon the car was swarmed. Some began to rock it back and forth, and for a moment Niccolo was worried that it was about to be overturned before some Carabinieri stormed the area and pushed the protesters off, opening the way for the count to pass on. It let him know, however, that the situation was getting dramatically more and more serious.
When he finally arrived back to the Grimaldi family compound, he entered the estate and found his brother where he thought he would be: sitting in the study, by himself, puffing away at a cigar nervously.
"How fares the Duke of Turin?" Niccolo asked, smiling a bit sardonically.
Silvestro looked at his brother, then looked away again, a steady cloud of smoke gathering about his head. Niccolo could tell that he was worried, and most likely about the protests. They had been growing, and they were planning to have a hunger strike to get the prime minister to talk to some of their representatives. There was some fear that, if this movement grew, it might cause the Chamber of Ministers to ask the Grand Duke to rescind his decision. And, knowing the Grand Duke, if it came to that, there was a chance he would do it.
"You mustn't look so tragic, brother," Niccolo said, "I have information regarding the protests. Plenty of information."
"What kind of information? And how are you getting this information."
"I have my ways," Niccolo replied, "ears here and there, listening. In any case, there are many different factions within the protests. You've got the ones who want to continue things peacefully, you have the ones who want to be more bold in their confrontations with the government, and then you have the ones who want to see blood. They're the ones getting into fights with others, sometimes getting arrested by the Carabinieri, and all that rabble. They will be of some use to us."
"How?"
Niccolo grinned, stirring the tea cup, "Do you know how many Carabinieri it takes to be hurt before they respond?"
"No."
"One. Just one Carabinieri hurt, wounded, insulted, or killed. They're like wolves - they sense any danger to the herd, and they move in for the kill en masse. And with the current state of Operation Reconquista, they will all be well armed, in great numbers, and with their vehicles in convoy."
"What are you getting at?"
"What if - and I am simply suggesting what if - one of the more violent protesters were to shoot a Carabinieri?"
Silvestro blinked, "Brother, are you seriously suggesting we kill a Carabinieri?"
"Kill or wound - we will leave him state to fortune. We simply need to get a gun in the mob, maybe two, and then let the Carabinieri know they are under threat. They will have to respond. Once they do, the protests will be cleared."
"Then?"
"There'll be a scandal, an investigation, of course, but things will die down, and eventually Potenzans will learn to appreciate the return of the nobility."
Silvestor sighed, puffing on his cigar. Finally he nodded, "All right, brother. Work that magic of yours."
"There is one other thing," Niccolo continued, holding up a hand, "I will need greater control over the situation to make sure the aftermath is not a heap of blunders. If you grant me the title Count of Turin, I could make certain that no further harm will come to the city following the dissolution of the protests."
"Count of Turin?" Silvestro laughed. "But I am Duke of Turin."
"The title Duke of Turin gives you the entire region, but you can delegate power down to the counties of the individual region. Turin will still be yours, and of course I'll still answer to you, but the affairs of the city will be mine to monitor in your stead. Grant me the title, and I will be able to assist you more efficiently."
"Very well," Silvestro replied, sighing and waving his cigar, "you have it - Count of Turin. Now, ease my headache."
Grimaldi Family Estate
Outside of Turin
Count Niccolo di Grimaldi had just returned from a personal trip to the city of Turin, a day after the House of Grimaldi had returned as rightful dukes to the city and its surrounding regions. He had spoken to the mayor and the head of the local law enforcement ministry branch, then driven by the protests themselves. What he saw were large numbers of people - many of them university students - sitting and listening to speeches and music. Many didn't seem all that concerned or interested, while plenty more were holding signs and cheering whoever was on stage. There were a few parliamentary ministers that Niccolo recognized, as well as perhaps a celebrity or two. The only thing he cursed himself for was mistakenly leaving the Grimaldi flag on the front of the vehicle. It drew the attention of some of the protesters, who quickly called others, and soon the car was swarmed. Some began to rock it back and forth, and for a moment Niccolo was worried that it was about to be overturned before some Carabinieri stormed the area and pushed the protesters off, opening the way for the count to pass on. It let him know, however, that the situation was getting dramatically more and more serious.
When he finally arrived back to the Grimaldi family compound, he entered the estate and found his brother where he thought he would be: sitting in the study, by himself, puffing away at a cigar nervously.
"How fares the Duke of Turin?" Niccolo asked, smiling a bit sardonically.
Silvestro looked at his brother, then looked away again, a steady cloud of smoke gathering about his head. Niccolo could tell that he was worried, and most likely about the protests. They had been growing, and they were planning to have a hunger strike to get the prime minister to talk to some of their representatives. There was some fear that, if this movement grew, it might cause the Chamber of Ministers to ask the Grand Duke to rescind his decision. And, knowing the Grand Duke, if it came to that, there was a chance he would do it.
"You mustn't look so tragic, brother," Niccolo said, "I have information regarding the protests. Plenty of information."
"What kind of information? And how are you getting this information."
"I have my ways," Niccolo replied, "ears here and there, listening. In any case, there are many different factions within the protests. You've got the ones who want to continue things peacefully, you have the ones who want to be more bold in their confrontations with the government, and then you have the ones who want to see blood. They're the ones getting into fights with others, sometimes getting arrested by the Carabinieri, and all that rabble. They will be of some use to us."
"How?"
Niccolo grinned, stirring the tea cup, "Do you know how many Carabinieri it takes to be hurt before they respond?"
"No."
"One. Just one Carabinieri hurt, wounded, insulted, or killed. They're like wolves - they sense any danger to the herd, and they move in for the kill en masse. And with the current state of Operation Reconquista, they will all be well armed, in great numbers, and with their vehicles in convoy."
"What are you getting at?"
"What if - and I am simply suggesting what if - one of the more violent protesters were to shoot a Carabinieri?"
Silvestro blinked, "Brother, are you seriously suggesting we kill a Carabinieri?"
"Kill or wound - we will leave him state to fortune. We simply need to get a gun in the mob, maybe two, and then let the Carabinieri know they are under threat. They will have to respond. Once they do, the protests will be cleared."
"Then?"
"There'll be a scandal, an investigation, of course, but things will die down, and eventually Potenzans will learn to appreciate the return of the nobility."
Silvestor sighed, puffing on his cigar. Finally he nodded, "All right, brother. Work that magic of yours."
"There is one other thing," Niccolo continued, holding up a hand, "I will need greater control over the situation to make sure the aftermath is not a heap of blunders. If you grant me the title Count of Turin, I could make certain that no further harm will come to the city following the dissolution of the protests."
"Count of Turin?" Silvestro laughed. "But I am Duke of Turin."
"The title Duke of Turin gives you the entire region, but you can delegate power down to the counties of the individual region. Turin will still be yours, and of course I'll still answer to you, but the affairs of the city will be mine to monitor in your stead. Grant me the title, and I will be able to assist you more efficiently."
"Very well," Silvestro replied, sighing and waving his cigar, "you have it - Count of Turin. Now, ease my headache."
Taley
Establishing Nation
Visconti Palace Parlor
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
"In a viper's den one must be a viper themselves." were the words that echoed in her mind as Theodora stepped into the parlor. She remembered these words taught to her long ago, to teach her to act in the world of Talemantine palace intrigue. Every event and every occasion was a chance for someone to try to embarrass and see her lose her standing in society, and that someone was always watching and listening to every word and the slightest action. Her face didn't betrayed the hundreds of thoughts and emotions that ran through her mind as she walked into the room of the Potenzan noble women.
Theodora wore one of her sleeveless stola dress of royal purple silk that clung tightly to her waist before flowing lightly to the floor. The dress held slight gold embroidery and jewels sewn into the edges. She also was adorned with a set of diamond jewelry from the vast holdings of the Talemantine jewels. The necklace hung around her neck with the bright diamonds set in the soft glow of the gold metal leading to the warm amber amulet that rested on her skin; the matching golden amber earrings lead the eye to the golden tiara, beset with diamonds and gems of golden amber, that was intertwine in the blond curls of Theodora's hair that fell effortlessly to her shoulders and back. To complete her look was a light translucent gold shawl wrapped around her shoulders with the Eagle Emblem embroidered upon it.
Only a few steps behind her was her Lady-in-Waiting Cordelia Damasco, her most cherished friend and a daughter of a prominent senatorial family. She wore a similar outfit to Theodora, but with less vibrant colors. Theodora walked into the room and approached Grand Duchess Aldone and curtsied and spoke with her Tiburan having a noticeable Talemantine accent. "Your royal highness I am so appreciative to have received your invitation to this gracious event and to be considered among the most noble and honorable of Potenzan women. To show my appreciation I have brought a gift for your highness." Cordelia came forward carrying a wooden box made with a dark oak wood and with the imperial emblem inlaid in a lighter wood on the top of the box. Inside the box was a silver necklace with small diamonds and a blue sapphire. "It was a gift that Theodore VII to his beloved wife Kristianna I of Arendaal upon their marriage in 1695."
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza
"In a viper's den one must be a viper themselves." were the words that echoed in her mind as Theodora stepped into the parlor. She remembered these words taught to her long ago, to teach her to act in the world of Talemantine palace intrigue. Every event and every occasion was a chance for someone to try to embarrass and see her lose her standing in society, and that someone was always watching and listening to every word and the slightest action. Her face didn't betrayed the hundreds of thoughts and emotions that ran through her mind as she walked into the room of the Potenzan noble women.
Theodora wore one of her sleeveless stola dress of royal purple silk that clung tightly to her waist before flowing lightly to the floor. The dress held slight gold embroidery and jewels sewn into the edges. She also was adorned with a set of diamond jewelry from the vast holdings of the Talemantine jewels. The necklace hung around her neck with the bright diamonds set in the soft glow of the gold metal leading to the warm amber amulet that rested on her skin; the matching golden amber earrings lead the eye to the golden tiara, beset with diamonds and gems of golden amber, that was intertwine in the blond curls of Theodora's hair that fell effortlessly to her shoulders and back. To complete her look was a light translucent gold shawl wrapped around her shoulders with the Eagle Emblem embroidered upon it.
Only a few steps behind her was her Lady-in-Waiting Cordelia Damasco, her most cherished friend and a daughter of a prominent senatorial family. She wore a similar outfit to Theodora, but with less vibrant colors. Theodora walked into the room and approached Grand Duchess Aldone and curtsied and spoke with her Tiburan having a noticeable Talemantine accent. "Your royal highness I am so appreciative to have received your invitation to this gracious event and to be considered among the most noble and honorable of Potenzan women. To show my appreciation I have brought a gift for your highness." Cordelia came forward carrying a wooden box made with a dark oak wood and with the imperial emblem inlaid in a lighter wood on the top of the box. Inside the box was a silver necklace with small diamonds and a blue sapphire. "It was a gift that Theodore VII to his beloved wife Kristianna I of Arendaal upon their marriage in 1695."