The Womb of Time

[Potenza]

Next door to the parlor, Drago could hear the familiar voice of Theodora, and his anxiousness only increased. He adjusted the collar on his uniform, fidgeting nervously as he muttered to himself, "What am I to do? What am I to do? I don't know what to say, I don't know what to say, I'll make a fool of myself..."

Giovanna walked over, smiling and putting a soft hand on her brother's arm, "B...br...br...brother..." She lowered her voice, as she often felt more confident to speak in a whisper, "Brother...it's all right...peace, peace...it'll be all right. She won't hate you..."

Meanwhile, in the much more calm parlor, the Grand Duchess Aldone couldn't help but cover her cheeks and smile graciously at the sight of the Talemantine heirloom, "Oh my! It is so beautiful! And from so far back! Oh my goodness me, Saint Gomberto bless us! If you are not offended, I must have one of our servants move this to safety at once." She motioned for one of the Visconti household aides to step forward, and with a bow the gentleman took the box and walked towards one of the many storing rooms of the palace. Aldone smiled again at the princess, "I would say I will try to remember to wear it when next we arrive at your home, but it might be offensive to wear such a piece of history."

The Duchess Lia di Cornaro, who was right behind Aldone, stepped forward and, placing her arm bent at her stomach, bowed before Theodora, "An honor to meet you, your royal highness." It was not a customary bow, but given the pencil skirt she wore, a formal curtsy would have been rather impossible (if not uncomfortable and awkward).

In the next room, Drago was still trying to figure out how he was going to introduce himself. Finally he threw his hands up into the air and said, "That's it, Giovanna - I'm simply going out there and getting it over with. Cowardice be damned!" Before his sister could stop him, he turned and marched smartly out of the room. He made his way down the hall to the doorway of the parlor, and stepped through the door, declaring:

"Mother, I heard that-"

...and promptly fell forward on his face, tripping over the carpet.

The reaction of the room was a mix. The Morosini Countesses Carlotta and Adolina immediately gasped. The Torriani Countess Francesca stood up and immediately broke into laughter, covering her mouth. The Duchess Lia immediately moved forward, as quickly as she could in her heels and skirt, and bent down a bit to help Drago up on his feet. Aldone had gasped as the count and heir fell, and said, "Oh my son! Are you all right?"

Drago could not answer at the moment, being flushed red in the cheek at the clear embarrassment he had made of himself, muttering at an attempt to improvise, "I'm fine...I um...wanted to make certain my entrance was remembered."

 

[Potenza]

OOC: Same rule as last time in regards to time warps.

Saint Ariva Memorial Hospital
Turin, Potenza

Count Niccolo glanced casually out of the windows of his vehicle as the driver pulled up outside the front entrance of the hospital. There was already a line of Carabinieri outside, holding back many press and other onlookers. One Carabinieri approached the vehicle and snapped into a smart salute as the driver opened up the door. This would have been unheard of perhaps a decade ago, but with the reinstatement of the duchies, and now the installment of Niccolo di Grimaldi as the Count of Turin, any vehicle with a Grimaldi emblem on its flags or side doors was bound to receive respect from men in uniform. Niccolo stood out of the car and nodded to the Carabinieri, who said plainly:

"They're waiting for you upstairs, your royal highness."

"Thank you, officer," Niccolo said kindly. He turned and smiled briefly at some of the press members who were snapping pictures. He had become the talk of the town, in particular for his visible presence in the wake of the crisis. Most were still hesitant about his presence, as he seemed to be spending most of his time speaking with the civil servants and Law Enforcement branch. However, a growing number were pleased that he was presenting himself as a uniting force among the various government bodies to help the city recover. Of course, the generous donations from the Grimaldi family for the damages were also welcomed by many parties. Now a special visit was being paid to the wounded Carabinieri by all the government officials of Turin. Count Niccolo himself would lead the special delegation, and with journalists of Il Ducato (specially selected, of course) present to record the event and report it to the public.

The vice mayor ran down the hall to greet Niccolo as he approached the specific room he was searching for. "Your royal highness," the vice mayor began, "we're happy you've arrived. He's been in stable condition since the surgery a few nights ago. He began talking again yesterday."

"Still alive?" Niccolo asked.

"Yes, they think he'll be able to leave in a few weeks."

"Good, good, let's see how he-"

Niccolo stopped as he noticed a familiar long flowing robe headed in his direction. Father Teodoro glanced up, seeing his uncle and stopping in his tracks. The two men eyed one another silently, much to the nervousness of the vice mayor, who worried he had done something wrong. Finally, Niccolo turned and motioned to the man, "You may go on. I will be in the room shortly."

The vice mayor obliged, rushing away to report to the mayor that the count had arrived. Teodoro and Niccolo continued to stare at one another before Niccolo finally broke the silence, casually placing his hands behind his back:

"I didn't expect you to be here, nephew. I would have imagined the episcopal vicar would be a tad bit busy to be making hospital visits."

"His eminence announced his condolences to the family earlier today," Teodoro replied, "he sent me to personally give his blessings to the wounded officer."

"Yes indeed," Niccolo said blankly, starting to walk past his nephew, "a noble endeavor..."

As he passed by Teodoro, the Grimaldi priest suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm. Niccolo stopped, glancing down at the hand, and then the nephew to whom it belonged. "Not here, Teodoro," Niccolo said, "you don't want to make a scene, do you?"

"Uncle," Teodoro began, speaking in a quiet voice, "there are rumors..."

"Thousands of rumors are born everyday," Niccolo replied, "a bit like bastard children..."

Teodoro was silent, as he perceived that was a personal attack against his care for Luigiana. Taking a deep breath and a silent hail Mary, he continued:

"I don't believe it was mere coincidence that father made you Count of Turin, and within a few days the protests are dispersed and order restored."

Niccolo smiled, "Your father had a problem, and through a series of circumstances, they were resolved. I was in command when it happened, I took the initiative. You know how the stress of being duke weighs on your father."

"That Carabinieri almost died. He was engaged to be married in a year."

"Then all the more for his fiance to count her blessings."

Teodoro looked away, his hand still on his uncle's arm. He sighed again, calming his tone before saying, "Forgive me, uncle. I shouldn't judge so quickly, but my views of you have been tarnished in the past year. When I was young, you were always Uncle Nico to me...I looked up to you, for your intelligence."

"Yes, and I was fond of you as a boy," Niccolo said, nodding, "you were such an intelligent boy. Always learning, and never satisfied, always wanting to learn more. You could speak three languages before you could drive a car. Then you wasted it all with the smells and bells of the church in Tibur..."

Niccolo stopped as he felt a pressure tighten around his arm. He glanced down, seeing Teodoro's hand pressing deep against his sleeve in a silent bit of anger. The count smiled at his nephew:

"Ah, so you do have emotion. Good, that shows humanity. Perhaps there's hope for you beyond silly superstitions."

Teodoro let go of his uncle, wringing his hands. He turned and said softly, "Uncle Nico, have you no fear of God...?"

"Gospel of Luke, chapter 23, verse 40," Niccolo quickly snapped, "yes, I know it, nephew. I'm not unlearned, you know that. It's a beautiful piece of literature, and I'm particularly fond of the translation the Reformers put out. Yet you should know I put my faith in no one other than myself. I have no one else to trust, you see. Now if you'll excuse me, I have the mayor and branch officials waiting..."

Niccolo turned away, walking down the hall, his hands behind his back again. Teodoro didn't turn around, but stared at the floor, hearing the click-clack of Niccolo's boots as they grew more and more quiet. A slow, quiet exhale left his lips as he ran his hands up to the golden crucifix hanging from his neck, feeling the shape of the body of Christ as it lay hanging on the cross. A silent Hail Mary began to be said from his lips as he walked down the halls, leaving the hospital without another word.

 

[Potenza]

Grimaldi Family Estate
Outside of Turin

Count Niccolo walked into the great lounge of the Grimaldi estate, walking over to a small counter that had a fresh pitcher of water he had requested, along with an empty glass. He took the pitcher and began pouring a meager amount. It was as he was lifting the glass to his mouth that he took notice of a figure in the room. He immediately recognized the long, thick black hair, bobbed skirt, and thick dress boots. It was none other than his niece, the Countess Luigiana, looking up at a great painting of the Potenzan hero Gomberto di Mercurio. It showed the great commander atop his horse, holding out his sword and pointing in the general direction of a battlefield.

"Ah, Luigiana," said Niccolo, smiling faintly as he walked over with the glass, "I see you are admiring history?"

Luigiana smiled at her uncle, then pointed up at the painting, "It's Saint Gomberto, isn't it?"

"Yes, Gomberto di Mercurio, as history labels him," said Niccolo, immediately dismissing the saint title, "he served the Duchy of Turin faithfully for many decades. Tell me, Luigiana, what do you know of our family's history?"

As Niccolo sipped his water, it was then that many might have noticed that he used the phraseology "our family" rather than "your family." As Luigiana was a young girl not familiar yet with the games adults often played with language, so she took no notice of it. She merely put on a studious face, contemplating the question her uncle had posed her, then replied, "A little. What my tutors teach me."

"Luigiana," Niccolo began, putting the glass down on a nearby table and putting his arms behind his back, "the Grimaldi family rests upon a great legacy. When the mighty Empire of the North surged down towards San Salvo, it was our armies which stopped the great tyrant of Europe in his tracks. Gomberto di Mercurio here was the one who led our armies to victory at sea and on land. When the canons finally rested silent, the Aren forces were retreating north, and Potenza was saved. Turin, at that time, was the jewel of the region, second only to San Salvo. On top of that, the city was the center of Tiburan culture to rival any other city. The greatest Potenzan musicians, artists, and architects came from the pocket and support of the Grimaldi dukes. Yes, Luigiana, the Cornaro can keep their theologians, the Morosini their armies, and I dare say the Visconti can keep their throne - the Grimaldi have a heritage heard in every ear and seen with every eye."

"Will the Grimaldi be like that again?" Luigiana asked curiously.

Niccolo smiled, "In due time. Now run along, your uncle is meeting someone important."

Luigiana giggled and ran away. Not too long had she left that a Grimaldi servant entered and bowed:

"He has arrived, your highness."

"Oh, good!" said Niccolo. "Please, show him in."

Niccolo took his glass and finished it, placing it back down before his guest walked into the room. The man who entered was in Carabinieri uniform, dressed sharply and wearing the rank of a lieutenant. He was of average height and good build, with short-cut hair and a rigid jaw. When he entered and faced the count, he went into a smart salute:

"Your highness."

Niccolo nodded, "Thank you, officer, you may relax. Lieutenant Giampaolo Gallitelli - is there any proper way you would like to be addressed?"

"Any way his highness sees fit."

Niccolo put his hands behind his back and smiled a bit before saying, "I suppose you know that there are rumors you are to be removed from your command, as per your responsibility with breaking up the recent protests?"

The count noticed that Gallitelli choked up a bit, as if that thought had been weighing heavily on his mind. He quickly recovered, replying, "Yes, your highness. That is what some have informed me."

"Gallitelli, I've been told by enemies that I'm blunt, so let me give you the honor of tasting my terseness. I'm thinking of creating a personal guard for the County of Turin. I need a reliable officer with experience handling difficult security affairs. I am offering you the title of gastaldo along with the position as Captain of the Guard. All that requires is a yes from you. What do you say?"

As Niccolo predicted, Gallitelli's eyes widened a bit, and he seemed at a loss for words. Niccolo had not only offered him a high ranking position within the Duchy of Turin, but also the title of gastaldo. The title bore many benefits - first and foremost, it made you a nobleman. You were permitted the benefits that entailed, with the exception of inheriting a royal position. They were low ranking nobles, but they were nobles nonetheless.

"Is his highness sure about this?" Gallitelli asked.

"Very sure," Niccolo said, "and bother to anyone who criticizes me for it. You see, Gallitelli, you're being cut loose because you were under politicians, and politicians need to pander to the needs of the mob. I, on the other hand, pander to no one to myself. If anyone has a problem with you obtaining the position, they can come to me. Otherwise, as far as I am concerned, they can keep their mouth shut."

"Would his highness be offended if I asked my wife about this, first?"

"No offense will be taken. Go and talk to your wife about it. Go."

Gallitelli went into a smart salute and was about to turn when Niccolo raised his hand:

"Oh, one more thing, Gallitelli. You should know with your title comes great responsibility, and with that greater chances for influence, either from yourself, or from others against yourself." Niccolo walked up to Gallitelli slowly, starting to talk in a quieter tone, "People will come to you who might seek to influence you against me, or seek to use you against me in one way or another way. Therefore, I must make something perfectly clear." Niccolo stopped in front of Gallitelli, looking him square in the eyes. "You may be familiar with those old women in the park with their lapdogs. They love those lapdogs more than themselves. They feed those lapdogs generously, no matter how much the little beasts may nip at their fingers. Well, I enjoy lapdogs as well, but I don't permit biting. Especially when they bite the hand I'm feeding them with. One of my dogs bites at me, I will readily break its neck and get another one. Now...here is the point of that elaborate metaphor: do not betray me. You are needed, but you are not vital. I can easily scour the military for some dunderhead officer to take your place, and I will not bat an eye to send you and your wife out onto the street. Do you understand?"

There was a long, odious silence in the room as the two men stared at each other. Finally, Gallitelli replied:

"I have served in uniform for almost ten years. I am loyal to whoever I serve, even onto death. If his highness needs me, I will descend into the nether regions of hell at your command."

Niccolo smiled, and his voice rose to normal levels again, "I'm sure you will. Now, go and give your regards to my wife. Let me know what you two agree upon."

Gallitelli saluted again, and walked off. Niccolo turned and picked up his glass again, walking over to the pitcher and pouring himself another fill.

"I wouldn't really send him and his out on their own," he said to himself, "but you have to make certain they're scared enough not to do otherwise..."

 

[Potenza]

Torriani Family Estates
Novara, Potenza

Count Guido sat in the plush chair before the familiar fireplace, though no fire was raging inside it. The summer warm temperatures were returning to southern Potenza, although the southwest - where the Torriani family now once again reigned - they were blessed with the hills and their winds that made the summer months cooler than those to the east, around San Salvo. For now, there was no need for fires, and Guido chose this location more for the isolation and the chance to once again bask under the goddess of wisdom, that familiar statue which rested behind his chair. The heir to the della Torre family had a glazed look on his eyes, and his cane rested casually across his lap, his good leg propped over his bad. He said nothing and did little else than breathe as he stared at the empty fireplace.

A door opening echoed across the room. This was followed by the sound of it shutting, and then the familiar tapping of high heel boots. Guido didn't even have to look up to know it was his sister Francesca, who now came and sat in the chair opposite him, crossing her legs under her long, elegant skirt and brushing out her gown to make the folds neat.

After a few moments, Guido finally spoke: "You have nothing to say to me, dear sister?"

"I did not want to disturb your thoughts, brother," Francesca replied.

"And yet you've chosen to grace me with your presence."

There was another moment of silence, although Francesca responded by pursing her red lips, forming the hint of a smile. She finally gave something of a reply with:

"Did you receive an invitation too?"

"To that princess ball? Yes I did..." Guido tightened his grip on his cane. "I think that Visconti bastard intentionally chose me because he knows I can't dance."

"It can't be all terrible," Francesca said, running a red nail along her cheek as she rested her head against her nimble hand, "who knows...perhaps you might find the love of your life there..."

"Dearest sister," Guido said, turning to Francesca with the ever slightest hint of a smile, "you know damn well that we Torriani have never been fond of Anglo-Saxons and their ilk...in particular those hair bovines they pass off for the female gender."

"Perhaps I will ask you to dance with me, then," Francesca said. Her voice became soft as she finished the sentence, and she shut her eyes when she was done. Guido let there be silence for a while before responding:

"I have more pressing matters than that. There's an opportunity to expand the oil line running through the German nations. We could run it easily under the Potenzan Sea, and through the Duchy of Turin, and then down to us. Think of it - the Torriani with an interest in the oil supply of the nation."

"And the Grimaldi, brother - what makes you think the Grimaldi will permit it?"

"Because I'm already aware that Count Niccolo is thinking of organizing that himself," Guido replied, "him and I see eye to eye on many things. We both want to make sure Potenza stands on her own two feet, even if through different means. He's also looking to use the reinstatement of the historical duchies to the best of his advantage. He's even creating his own guard - I'm amazed that Visconti fool is letting him do so much."

"He reads men well," Francesca said softly, "he knows your ambition is a wildfire, and Niccolo's a controlled flame..."

"That may be," Guido said, putting his good leg and cane down, leaning forward and standing back up with some difficulty, "in any case, I've already been running through the channels with the Duchy of Turin. They've expressed interest in a joint venture. We can both pull strings with the businesses around our duchies, and if we work together, it will make the construction of a pipeline all the more easier."

"There's something more, however," Francesca opened her eyes, staring at Guido with her dark orbs, "I can sense it, brother."

"Perhaps," said Guido, smiling at Francesca and walking over, running a finger along her bare neck, "you know me a bit too well, I'm afraid. This will bring us into good league with the Germans. That's what I'll need if I ever desire greater power over the Visconti. They still seek influence over Potenza against Engellex, and I am growing tired with English apathy to Potenzan offers for help. They want us to be good little dogs and remain in our dog house. Well, we don't intend to - I certainly don't intend to do so. If the English will not help us, then to the Germans we will go. Potenzan will see a major shift in two hundred years of foreign policy."

Suddenly, Guido started to wrap his fingers around Francesca's neck. He slowly tightened, sensing how sensitive her neck was. Francesca said and did nothing. She continued staring up at her brother with her dark eyes, her eyelids heavy, her red lips pursed. Guido stared back at her, his hands remaining in their grip. Finally, Francesca said:

"You could kill me, brother."

"I could," Guido said, "but you know I won't."

He let go of his sister and turned, walking out of the room, his cane and foot echoing across the room and then across the halls as he departed. Francesca smiled to herself, shutting her eyes and relaxing in the new found silence.

 

[Potenza]

Venosa Medical Center
Venosa, Potenza

The limousine, bearing the marks of the Torriani household, came to a dead stop and was covered by a group of Carabinieri, the rest of whom were keeping reporters and Venosa citizens away from the entrance to the hospital. The limo driver quickly rushed to the side door and opened it while the Carabinieri rushed into a salute. In a calm manner did Guido della Torre exit the vehicle, standing up with some difficulty and waving off the salute of the officers.

"Anyone else here?" he asked.

"Your sister came with the duke, your highness," the Carabinieri captain replied, "we're expecting his majesty any second."

"Yes, I heard he was coming...if he arrives shortly, don't alert him I'm here, understand?"

"Yes, your highness!"

Guido made his way towards the hospital doors, ignoring the flashes of the camera lights, the owners of which were no doubt going to make a fuss about the Torriani heir visiting his ailing father in the hospital. It didn't concern him any - he had stayed out of the Venosan spotlight and left much of it to other family members, preferring to stay behind the scenes. Even his position as Lord Speaker for the Chamber of Nobles did little to catch him in the public limelight. He could start his public scene with a clean slate, and write it out as he saw fit.

Hospital officials quickly met him at the door and led him to the emergency care unit his father was stationed in. The doors to the room were guarded by more Carabinieri as well as Torriani household aides. When Guido stepped inside, he actually felt a wince come across his face at the sight. There his father was, as 62-years old as he had been before, but now seemingly an additional few decades older. His face was pale, and his eyes nearly closed, almost void of consciousness. He stared forward and breathed heavily, with every vein in his bodily seemingly in plain view against his skin. Francesca was beside him, stroking his hand. When Guido approached she turned and smiled a little, then stood up and made as if to leave, but ran a gentle finger along Guido's sleeve to let him know he was to follow. The count did, and met his sister some distance away from the guards, saying in a quiet voice:

"Did you do anything?"

"I did nothing but give daughterly affection," Francesca replied, "Fortune did the rest."

Guido smiled, then said, "Truth be told, I thought the bastard would last another ten years...do they think it is bad?"

"They think he may not last the night."

Guido nodded, then tapped her cheek with the handle of his cane, "I'll say a few parting words to him..."

Francesca curtsied. Guido turned and returned towards the room, asking the guards, aides and medical staff to give them some time alone, which they were quick to oblige. After the door was shut, the count and Torriani heir moved to a chair, sitting down with a sigh and glancing at his father. The duke seemed to stare forward in a vegetable-like state, the only sound in the room being his heavy breathing and the beep of the heart monitor. Guido studied his father's expression, almost as if he were a doctor himself. Finally, he began to say in a quiet voice:

"How the mighty have fallen. All your laurels, all your ranks, all your power...and you're as mortal as any of us. Does it shock you, papa? That you have weaknesses, like any one in this country? Or do you even know what's going on?" As if to test that question, Guido lifted up his cane and waved the handle back and forth in front of his father's face. The duke did nothing, his eyes not even bothering to watch the handle. "I thought not. You're as worthless as a fetus." Guido shook his head, leaning forward on his cane and saying in an even more hushed tone:

"I know, papa. I know about all those things you said about me. When I lost my leg, you said you might as well should have removed me from inheriting the house. You said I was damaged goods. You told people in private that you wish you had an heir like Drago, Stefano or Plinio, who were athletic and strong - who had both legs to walk on. You said a duke who was weak on his feet would be weak to rule. You said I was an embarrassment. That you hated me for it. That you wished I had never been born. I know about those words, papa...you said them in confidence and never realized people would use them against me out of mockery. Do you know what it's like for a little boy to be in the hospital, overhearing the nurses giggling about how they overheard the duke himself saying he wished I had been killed rather than maimed? That I should have been quicker? That it was my own fault? Do you know what that's like, papa?"

Predictably, there was no answer. Guido shook his head again before saying:

"What a game Fortune has played with us now. I made up for my lack of agility with intelligence. My mind is sharper now. Yours has become a little less than cauliflower in a skull. The only reason the Torriani house didn't crumble in a mess under your inane descent into the grave was because of me, papa. And I will rule. I will show you how wrong you were. I hope you enjoy the view from hell when you see me ascend to heaven."

Guido stood up and began to walk out of the room, not glancing behind himself or paying attention to the breathing his father made. As he opened the door, he was immediately greeted by Grand Duke Eldizio I di Visconti.

"Count Guido," Eldizio said, raising an eyebrow, "I apologize - I hope I did not interrupt."

"Not at all, your majesty," Guido replied, feigning a sigh, "I was simply giving my farewells...they believe it will be my father's last night and..."

"I understand," Eldizio said, smiling and stepping aside for Guido, "I wish to say a few words myself, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, be kind." Guido bowed a bit and then walked away, going to join Francesca in the waiting room. Eldizio watched him a moment before stepping in, a hospital official shutting the door behind the grand duke. Crossing his arms and sighing, Eldizio glanced across the room at the Torriani duke. He was caught off guard by how he looked, and he felt his heart sink as he realized what Guido said was probably true - by tomorrow morning, Martino was probably going to be dead.

"It's been a long time since we were alone together, old friend," Eldizio said quietly, walking across the room and moving a stool over to sit at the end of the bed. It looked like Martino was looking at him, although Eldizio recognized he was probably unconscious, "Oh, it's heartbreaking to see you like this, Martino. You were so sharp and quick witted...to see your mind fail so much over these years. It's been painful. Sometimes I couldn't bear to see you, and I intentionally avoided you at times - I know it sounds cruel, and I regret it now. You were always there for me, and yet I feel that I failed you at your worst time." Eldizio thought a moment, and then laughter left his lips, "Do you remember when I was too afraid to ask Aldone to marry me? You said, 'Stop being a coward or I'll bugger you myself.' You said she was the kind of woman who ages well, and was worth the risk. How right you were...Aldone is still as beautiful as she was back then. She's such a wonderful wife, you were so right, I wish you could see how..."

Suddenly, Eldizio choked up. His lip quivered, and he buried his face into his hand, feeling tears fall into his glove. After a moment, he regained his composure, wiping his eyes. He stood up and walked over, touching Martino's hand and saying with a smile:

"Go with God, my friend. Pray that Potenza still stands by the time I join you."

 

[Potenza]

Church of the Annunciation
San Salvo, Potenza

The inside of the ancient cathedral, dating back to the middle ages, was one of the most elaborate in the Tiburan Catholic world, and drew the attention of tourists when liturgy was not in session. Every single wall was painted with scenes from the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, and where the wall was not painted there was a statue of the Virgin Mary or one of Potenza's famous saints. It had gone through several renovations in the past century, and the artwork seemed to be as pristine and crisp as it did when it first went up.

Archbishop Ildebrandino Conti, head of the Archdiocese of San Salvo, one of the most influential bodies within the Grand Duchy, glanced about at the various decorations and icons. He had seem them countless times before, and had the layout memorized, yet now he was looking about and planning what would happen in the days to come. Next week, he was to participate in the coronation of the next head of the Torriani household, and the next Duke of Venosa. Guido della Torre would proceed through the streets of San Salvo and come into the cathedral, approaching the archbishop who would be standing before the altar. After being asked if he would remain faithful to the nation, the people, and his God, Guido would have the Torriani royal medal placed around his neck. Then he would proceed back through the streets of San Salvo in a small procession, and return back to Venosa. Every ducal successor had followed this formula since the war of unification, with the only exception being the Cornaro. As the Cornaro were Reformed Christians, their coronations took place back in Treviso, and consisted of their receiving the ducal medal from the city mayor and pledging fidelity before the people and the Reformed Church. Every ducal family had their own medal, which their dukes wore around the neck at special occasions. The grand duke had the sword Alexandria, which he always had by his side at special events, and which the archbishop would hand to the successor at the (much larger and grander) ceremony.

The archbishop was accompanied by his episcopal vicar, the priest and Grimaldi count Teodoro.

"It's been a long, long time, since we had royalty parade through these halls," Conti remarked, "last one was the Grand Duke. Tell me, Teodoro, you've had far more experience with Guido than I have...what do you make of the boy?"

"Guido?" Teodoro said. "I don't really know, your eminence. He seems harmless enough. I pity him for his handicap. Sometimes...sometimes, I get the feeling there's something missing inside him."

"Yes, you may be right," said Conti, nodding as he turned to look at a statue of Saint Cambria, "you may be right. I sense a deep cavern in that boy."

"A cavern, your eminence?"

"Yes. Something deep, wide, and empty - something that screams to be fulfilled at all times. Do you think he will ever fulfill it?"

"I don't know, your eminence."

"Ah, he probably won't," Conti waved his hand back and forth in a kind of dismissal, "no one ever does. You have an empty space in your soul, something desires to fill it. You don't fill it, something will force itself in. Have it deep enough, and nothing can fill it."

"What do you think he wants to fill it?"

"I think he wants acceptance," Conti said, "he belongs to a royal family wronged by the ruling house of the country, and fate wronged him early in youth by depriving him of being able to do many things other young boys could not. Insult to status and person is a dangerous combination. I think his achieving the status of duke is just a step."

"You don't think he desires more, do you, your eminence?"

"I think he does. He wants as much as he can have, but unfortunately he can never have enough. So I believe that when I hand him the ducal medal next week, he will next desire that I hand him Alexandria..."

"Are you suggesting a possible coup?"

"No, he's clever, I can tell that much. Despite what rumors may be circling the halls of other houses, I do not believe Guido had any hand in Martino's death. He's too smart for that. He knows any stain on his character will turn the people against him, and he probably knows the Visconti have their finger on the Torriani, especially with Guido's brother and Eldizio's daughter being given in marriage. No, our little one-legged friend will bide his time and wait for the right opportunity, but when he does move...it will be desirable for him to have the favor of the Church."

Teodoro glanced about suddenly, realizing that the bishop was beginning to speak of things best quietly said. At the moment no one was in the church save for a few tourists and some of the more elderly who came in to say the rosary. At the moment the archbishop and vicar were standing near the corner of the room, where the walls did not echo enough to make a person's voice heard from far away.

"Are not the Visconti the guardians of the Church?" Teodoro asked, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"The Visconti are friends of the church because they know they have to be," Conti replied, "but they're also friends to those heretics up north, despite the war of unification being long ago. Those Reformers are making their inroads north and preaching against the Church when they can. The next person who desires our favor can receive it if they promise to rectify this situation..."

Teodoro remained silent, unsure what to say. The archbishop had not been this blunt on affairs of the church before, and the vicar was unsure if he should ask for clarification or let Conti finish. As it was, the archbishop merely waved his hand again:

"But look at me, I'm wasting my time on trivial, hypothetical situations. Come, let's go over the plans for next week again."

 

[Potenza]

Church of the Annunciation
San Salvo, Potenza

"Carabinieri - ARMS!"

The line of Carabinieri, one on each side of the aisle, snapped to attention, raising their ceremonial swords. Behind them were most of the nobility, along with many government officials, including the prime minister himself. Walking down the aisle, proudly wearing the uniform of the Torriani, was Count Guido della Torre. He had the same cane as he always had, but now he was stepping forward to receive the ducal medal from the archbishop. He kept his eye on the elderly Ildebrandino Conti, who was in his ceremonial bishop robes complete with miter. Next to him was Teodoro, holding the ducal medal atop a purple sash. Guido smiled ever so slightly as he caught sight of it. For so long his father Martino had worn that, even as dementia set in...and now Guido was going to be able to wear it at special ceremonies and when he held council for the royal house.

As Guido finally came to the edge of the altar, where the archbishop stood, the Carabinieri officer shouted:

"Carabinieri - REST!"

The policemen sheathed their swords, doing a turn in unison to face towards the altar.

"Count Guido della Torre, Lord Speaker of the Chamber of Nobles," Archbishop Conti began, his hands folded before him, staring at the count blankly but speaking with a loud voice as if he were giving a sermon, "you have come forward to accept the title of Duke of Venosa, Duke of the House of della Torre. You have come before your peers, before the Grand Duke, before the people, and before God Himself. Do you confess that you have come for the title of Duke of Venosa, Duke of the House of Della Torre?"

"I do," Guido replied.

"Do you swear before God that you will serve the duchy with honor, for the benefit of your subjects?"

"I do."

"Do you swear before God that you will remain loyal to the Grand Duchy - to your Grand Duke, and the ruling house, whatever they may be?"

"I do."

"Do you swear before God that you will adhere to the Constitution of 1828, and not infringe upon the rights of the Potenzan citizenry?"

"I do."

"Do you swear before God that you will respect the faith of your citizenry, neither impeding worship nor supporting the advancement of one faith above another in terms of rights or privileges?"

"I do."

"Then," Conti turned and took the ducal medal from Teodoro, "before all present - His Royal Majesty the Grand Duke, the Prime Minister, and Almighty God - I grant to you the title of Duke of Venosa, Duke of the House of della Torre..."

Guido bowed his head. He felt the straps that held the medal go around his neck, and felt the weight of the large medallion as Conti gave it over to the support of Guido's neck and gravity.

"...which shall be your rightful inheritance from hereon. Go forth, and rule with dignity. Amen."

Conti did the sign of the cross, and Guido lifted himself up a bit higher. He turned, facing the audience with the medallion proudly worn around his neck. As he stepped forward to leave, all viewers erupted into applause. Flashes went about the room as pictures were taken. Guido smiled and shook a few hands with various dignitaries and nobles. One of them was his sister, who leaned in and said in a hushed tone:

"How does it feel, brother?"

"A bit heavy," Guido replied, smiling at her, "I suppose it will take some getting used to."

Francesca pursed her red lips at him, "Let us hope so..."

 

[Potenza]

Grand Duke's Palace
San Salvo, Potenza

Count Gavino della Torre sat glumly in a plus chair in the study of the palace. Eldizio I had invited him and Giovanna to stay the night, as they had arrived in town for the coronation of Gavino's brother Guido, and had remained for lunch. Since the death of his father Martino, Gavino had been mostly keeping to himself, not even speaking to his wife, even though she could not speak much herself, given her stutter. He had been particularly close to his father, even more than Guido or Francesca, and he regretted not being there enough around him during the duke's last years. Now as he sat alone, he pondered if he had really been a good son, and if he was even worthy to take the position of his father if anything should happen to Guido.

The count's eyes glanced up as he heard the sound of boots on the palace floors. The grand duke himself appeared and Gavino immediately rose to his feet, smiling slightly, "Your majesty. Thank you for letting your daughter and I stay..."

"Think nothing of it," Eldizio said, stepping forward and fidgeting with his gloved fingers as he did so, "I've been wanting to privately give you my condolences regarding the passing of your father."

"Oh, yes," Gavino lowered his gaze, nodding, "thank you, your majesty. You and Aldone have been very kind to Giovanna and I these past few days."

"There's much more," the grand duke said. He looked away a moment, as if trying to find the right words, then he looked towards the count again and said, "Gavino, your marriage to my daughter was arranged, between your father and myself, to ensure that our two houses would not enter conflict. Regardless, you've been very kind to Giovanna. You've treated her every way a husband should treat a wife. You've been kind and patient to her, and I've never seen her so happy as when I've seen her in your arms."

Gavino blinked, taken aback by the grand duke's words. He looked down again, saying quietly, "Thank you, your majesty."

Eldizio placed a hand on the count's shoulder, saying in words that were nearly choked to silence, "I have millions under my command, but I have only one daughter...it means a lot to me."

Then, the Grand Duke of Potenza leaned forward and said in an even quieter voice:

"Protect her from your brother. Whatever happens, protect her from him..."

Gavino blinked again. He glanced to the grand duke as if expecting a smile or a laughter to come from him, but the grand duke's face was still as solemn as before. After a period of silence, Gavino replied, "All right. I will, your majesty."

 

[Potenza]

Grand Duke's Palace
San Salvo, Potenza

Gavino della Torre lay on the bed in one of the palace's many guest chambers, wearing his pajama suit and staring up at the ceiling. He felt the small, delicate hands of his wife, the Grand Duke's daughter Giovanna. He looked over and smiled as he saw her creeping timidly up to him, her dark hair cascading down one side of her head. She smiled and blushed slightly, leaning her face on his chest. The soft beats of his heart, heard through his chest and the fabric of his shirt, relaxed her, and she gently wrapped her around his chest.

"Still...s...sad...?" she whispered.

"I suppose," Gavino replied quietly. His hand ran along the side of Giovanna's head, entering through the strands of her hair, enjoying the soft feel, "Silly, I know...I should be playing the man. I'll get better soon enough, don't you worry."

The countess smiled, the touch of her husband relaxing her even more, and she shut her eyes. She enjoyed these happy moments between the two of them, where there were no court drama, no worries about what the public would think about what they did, or what kind of problem was now facing the country. The room was quiet, the walls silencing even the noise of the city not too far from the gates. The march of the palace guards were heard and then quietly dissipated, replaced only by the rhythmical breathing of Gavino. Giovanna kept her eyes shut, thinking back to their earliest happiest moments, if not the happiest moments of their lives - though of happy moments alone, there were so many.

That was that moment, when they were both young, both nearly the age of ten, when she was sitting out in the courtyard of the palace, enjoying the quiet of the garden. She heard the noise of an intruder and turned to see Gavino (such a boy back then!) walking past the tall bushes and approaching her.

"Father says we are to marry, when we are older," he said, "I suppose I should get to know you then."

Giovanna blushed. She had barely spoken any words until she was five, and even now, her stuttering was easily noticeable to all who knew the Visconti family. As Gavino gave her the news - news she was not yet aware of - she could only look aware, staring down at the ground. She saw a blossoming tulip staring back at her, and she quietly wished that she could become a pixie and fly into the flower, the petals covering over her to hide her from all the troubles that faced her as a countess.

"Gavino," the young count had said, walking closer to her and bowing rather mechanically, obviously having been taught that by the court tutors, "Count Gavino della Torre."

Giovanna bit her lip, not sure what to say - what could she say? How could she say it? She simply stared at the flower, her cheeks turning a darker hue of red. After a long, long period of silence, Gavino finally sighed and dropped his shoulders:

"You have to tell me your title and name!"

She shook her head, still looking away.

"You have to, it's court manners!"

The girl shook her head again, then buried her face in her skirt, hugging her legs close. She wished this situation would end, and her embarrassment with it. The count could have laughed at her or left, but instead he walked over and sat down on the stone bench beside her, saying with a sigh:

"Well, I shall remain until you speak."

She blinked and looked at him. The smile he gave her only kept her cheeks red, and she looked away. She never did tell him her name that day, but he remained all the same, the two of them enjoying the view of the garden. Gradually, as the minutes wore on, Giovanna realized she felt quite happy, and began to hope that this moment would never end.

The other moment she could recall, as she lay there on her husband's chest, was when they were older - perhaps both nearly 15 or so - and were at a ball for the Potenzan royal houses. They were to be married soon, but this event was not in their honor, and so they enjoyed much of the moment by themselves. They said little to one another, but their eyes couldn't have given any more expression. As they swung about the dance floor, moving from one waltz to the next, they remained locked in each other's gaze. Giovanna had grown so used to not only his company, but his touch, and as his hand rested on her lower back she felt she could have allowed him to lead them all night. Indeed, they remained on the dance floor even after most of the couples had left, and continued dancing when the orchestra started to play a march. It was Duke Prospero di Cornaro who finally walked over and tapped Gavino on the shoulder, letting him know the dancing was over. The three shared a laugh before Gavino whisked Giovanna away to the palace study.

It was there that Giovanna began to stutter something which she eventually realized she could not speak. As she tried to enunciate even a syllable, her cheeks turned more and more red. Finally she looked away, ashamed, covering her cheeks and shutting her eyes, remembering now how embarrassed she had felt in the garden those years ago.

"It's all right," Gavino said, "I know - you love me, don't you?"

Giovanna turned to the count, her eyes wide.

"I know," Gavino added, smiling, "I love you too..."

It was then that the countess burst into one of her giggling fits, and she buried her face into the count's vest. He laughed with her, hugging her and bringing her back into his chair. The two eventually fell asleep there, and though there was nothing altogether scandalous about their position, attire or how they looked, some might have gathered the wrong idea. It was Duke Prospero again who had come to the rescue, finding them and gently waking them up, letting them know that the ball was beginning to end.

The final happy moment that crossed Giovanna's mind came on their wedding night. They had never shared intimacy before, and Giovanna had known no other man romantically but Gavino. She remembered sitting on the bed in her night gown, fidgeting with her hands nervously. Gavinno had begun to walk over and took her hand, beginning to kiss up her arm, to her shoulder. Her hands her shaking horrible as his fingers looped under one of the shoulder straps of her gown, and her breathing became heavy as she felt his lips trace along the exposed parts of her shoulder. As she bit her lips and shut her eyes, she heard Gavino's voice suddenly interrupt the scene with:

"Are you nervous?"

Giovanna swallowed. She began to stammer horrible. Each syllable died before it even reached her mouth. Finally, in a quick breath, she uttered: "Scared!..."

To her surprise, she felt the strap of her gown go back up her shoulder, and Gavino's hand trace along her arm. She turned in shock, seeing her husband smile at her, "Well...it doesn't have to be tonight...we can wait." Tears came to the countess's eyes, and she leaped on her husband, hugging him tight.

Now, so many years after their marriage, she lay on her husband's chest, drifting to sleep. When she finally fell asleep, it was to the soft strokes of Gavino's fingers tracing along her soft cheek. She felt so safe, so secure, and so in love...

 

[Potenza]

Morosini Family Estate
Cremona, Potenza

Countess Adalina glanced at herself in the circular mirror that rested on a small table in her room. She had just put her light brown hair up into a bun and applied some lipstick over her lips. Although simply 24-years old, Adalina had grown well, and many thought she was older than she really was. She had lovely cheek bones and a pronounced chin that was still feminine enough. She was petite overall, with only a hint of an hourglass figure and skinny legs, and was taller than even her older sister Enrichetta. At special events she wore dresses as beautiful as those worn by her sisters, but at home she felt more relaxed wearing pantsuits, especially with light fabric pants that felt good against her legs.

A knock came at her door.

"Who is it?" Adalina asked softly.

Without an answer, the Duke Gustavo stepped in, shutting the door behind him in a bit of a hurry, as if he had serious news to deliver. The urgent demeanor sent a chill up Adalina's spine, and she stood up immediately.

"Father? What's wrong?"

"I heard," Gustavo replied rather glumly, "you were rejected from the royal military academy."

Adalina bit her lip. She nervously backed up, landing a hand on the table to balance herself. Her heart was aflutter, both from the reminder of her rejection as well as the realization that her father was probably unhappy over the affair.

"Y-yes...that is true..."

Gustavo stepped forward, his cloak fluttering ever slightly behind him as he did:

"Why would you do such a damn stupid thing?"

The swearing. Her father always swore when he was getting upset. Adalina felt her lower lip quiver, and she said, "To serve my country, father. There are women in the military, surely that is not unique. I only wanted to bring more honor to our family."

"Yes, I've noticed you having a damn silly admiration for the uniform," Gustavo said, his eyes peering at his daughter rather coldly. He pursed his lips a moment and then said in a low voice, "I've also noticed you seem to take a fucking interest in Lia, Francesca, or Giovanna whenever they're in your damn sight. You look at them the way I do..."

Adalina felt a rush go to her cheeks, and she knew that her father could see she was blushing horribly. "W-what are you saying, father?!"

In an instant, Adalina felt the cold sting of her father's slap against her cheek. She gave a cry, but before she could offer an apology her father had grabbed her by the throat and was smacking her again, and again, and again. Gustavo was a powerfully built man, and his blows were harsh against his daughter's body. She tried to hold up her arms, but he would only hit them with his fist, sending pain into her nerves. As tears fell down her face, Gustavo gripped her neck with both hands as if to strangle her, yelling at the top of his lungs:

"Don't you fucking play stupid with me, you dumb bitch! Don't you fucking dare!"

"Father! Please, I-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Adalina could barely register in her mind what was unfolding as her father raised his fist and brought it down on her face. It struck her lip, cutting it, and sending her sprawling to the ground. The fall knocked over the table, sending the mirror falling to the ground and shattering. By now she was crying uncontrollably, curling into a ball, hoping it would all just end. The shouting and crying had attracted the attention of a servant, who burst in the room only to realize this was something he had best not interfere with, leaving just as quickly. The countess continued to cry, and felt several blows to her lower back and rear end as her father began to kick her with as much hate and anger as had been behind the punch.

"I got a fucking daughter who wishes she had a cock instead of a cunt! You know how many damn rumors are spreading around the country because of you? Don't you EVER fucking dare do something like that without my permission! Do you understand?!"

Adalina didn't respond - afraid to do so. She felt as if any response would be wrong and her punishment would get worst. Gustavo seemed to become impatient with that, and kicked her in the lower back, screaming, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?" which finally got him a tearful and croaking "Yes!" from his daughter. The duke bent down, forcing his daughter on her back, grabbing her by the cheek and staring her in the eyes. Adalina's face was a mess - the blood had smeared with her lipstick, which had in turn smeared across her cheeks and nose. Her lip quivered from pain as well as fear, staring into her father's eyes and not seeing any sign of tenderness or remorse. There was only that seething hate and anger that he had shown her most of her life.

"You fucking listen to me," he said, lowering his voice although the tone did not get any calmer, "you fucking listen to me, you cunt licking bitch. I'm going to talk to the Grimaldi, and I'm going to arrange a marriage between you and Count Stefano. He's their heir, so you BETTER do some fucking with men and make some babies, because if you fail to do that they'll hate you too! Now do you have a problem with that, bitch?!" His fingers were tightening now, digging into her cheeks, causing some small bruising. Adalina winced at the pain and quickly nodded, afraid to answer with words. The duke shoved her face to the side and stood up, walking out without another word.

The door slammed shut, and the room went quiet.

Adalina stared up at the white ceiling with her brown eyes, her crying having stopped as if she were dead. She wasn't, but her mind was completely numb. There wasn't a thought inside her, and for a moment all emotion left her. She could feel a single tear go down her cheek, leaving a warm stream from her eye down. She lifted up her fingers to her lips, touching it, feeling the sharp pain from the open wound, and then looked at the blood on her hand. The reality of the situation was finally upon her again, and she turned on her side, huddling up like a fetus and beginning to weep. She continued to weep for another hour.

 

[Potenza]

Grimaldi Family Estate
Outside of Turin

Count Niccolo eyed the sheet of paper in front of him as he made his way towards the study where he had last seen his brother. Over the past few years, Niccolo had begun taking on more and more duties from his brother, but with the reinstatement of the duchies, he was practically running the show. Much of it was delegated to those who served the royal family, of course, but Duke Silvestro di Grimaldi had found it more desirable to spend his time in the studies and smoke fine cigars, knowing that his younger brother was taking care of things. At this moment, the family worked out something like a constitutional monarchy: Niccolo was the true head of state, making all the calls that needed to be made, while Silvestro was the ceremonial nobleman, whose only worry was whether his stamp had enough ink or if his clothes were clean enough for the next ceremony. Niccolo had accepted this as a matter of necessity, but over the past few weeks he was beginning to wonder if his brother needed assistance or was truly incompetent and unfit to rule.

Sure enough, there was the Duke of Turin himself, seated in a chair in the corner, puffing away at a cigar and reading a book. Niccolo glanced down quickly, seeing it was one of the more...tasteless novellas that the library contained. While not straight out pornography, it was not what Niccolo would have wanted Luigiana to be reading at her age. Niccolo could tell from

"Is something the matter?" Silvestro asked, lowering his cigar and looking at his brother through the thick smoke.

"The matter? No, but an interesting development," Niccolo held out the sheet of paper to Silvestro, "the Morosini house wishes to arrange a marriage."

"Oh! Haven't had one of those in a while! Who will be the happy couple?"

"Your son and heir, His Royal Highness Count Stefano di Grimaldi, and the Countess Adalina di Morosini."

"Sounds good," said Silvestro without another thought, "I suppose someone should let Stefano know."

Niccolo smirked slightly, his lips curving into a bit of a crooked smile, "I'll take care of it, your highness."

Stefano, the heir to the House of Grimaldi and the Duchy of Turin, was not too far away to be found. The 29-year old was on the grounds around the estate, playing catch with some of his old university friends. The boy had inherited some of the apathy of his father, but none of the lethargy, and Niccolo had steadily been working on the boy since birth. Niccolo was determined, now more than ever for certain, that if Silvestro could not be a capable, self-sustaining monarch, then his son most definitely would.

"Uncle Nico," Stefano said, smirking to the Count of Turin as he saw him advancing across the greens. He caught the baseball and threw it to one of his friends before saying, "Is there something important?"

"As a matter of fact," Niccolo said, "it appears you will be married."

"Oh?!" Stefano said, laughing as he took off the glove and put it under his arm, walking up to his uncle and wiping some sweat from his brow. "I hope it's to Francesca."

Niccolo cleared his throat, "No...it's from the Morosini house. The Duke Gustavo desires for you to marry Adalina."

The quick change that Stefano's face made was readily noticeable to the count, "Adalina? But she's so plain. My tits are bigger than hers."

Niccolo winced a bit at the vulgar language, and his response was quick: he rolled up the printed email and smacking Stefano like he would a bad dog. That drew a quick laugh from his friends and a playful smirk from the Grimaldi heir:

"My apologies, Uncle Nico, I know I should be more mature now..."

"Indeed you should. The Morosini and Grimaldi families have enjoyed good relations for nearly 500 years. This marriage will further cement those ties, which we badly need now that we have obtained our duchies. Besides, you are the heir to your father's household, you need an heir yourself, and you are not getting any older."

"Yes, you are right. Adalina is not altogether loathsome, any way. Although I've heard rumors..."

"Rumors are rumors," Niccolo cut in sharply, "don't concern yourself with them. Not every royal marriage is meant to be like Valentino and Adela - in fact, few of them are. Even if the rumors are true, her only role is to produce a child for her you and look happy when you two are out in public together."

"You are right, Uncle Nico. I suppose the two of us are to meet then?"

"The families will formalize things, and prepare for the marriage. Your father supports it, so with the two dukes consenting, there is little need for the two of you to do likewise."

"Father didn't care either way, did he?" Stefano asked. Niccolo tapped the rolled up paper on his chin, which gave the heir a silent gesture of You are correct. "Very well, if need be, I'll talk to the Morosini myself, I suppose."

"Good boy," Niccolo said, "if you continue like this, you might make a better duke than your father."

 

[Taley]

. . .

[OOC: lol time warp!]

Visconti Palace Parlor
San Salvo, Grand Duchy of Potenza

Theodora graciously greeted the Cornaro duchess, who wore an outfit more befitting a wife of a commoner than a noble, such outfits would not have been allowed at an official event at the palace. Then again the Potenzans were more simpler than the Talemantines and such dress must be a local customs, and one must respect the customs when a guest even if those customs may be inferior to your own. "It is my pleasure to be here as well Duchess Lia." Theodora said to the Lady Lia.

It was then that Drago swiftly, but not gracefully, entered the room and proceeded to trip and fall to the ground. Theodora let out a quiet laugh while hiding her mouth with her hand. She gave Cordelia a sharp glance as her laugh was louder and more noticeable telling her lady-in-waiting to refrain from laughing too loud. Theodora watched as some of the women rushed to the count's aid.

After the Count was once again on his feet, Theodora approached him with her smile. "Well Count Drago your entrance will always be remembered." She reach out and delicately grabbed a lock of his hair and put it back into place and let her hand gingerly touch the left side of his face while she leaned in a kissed his right cheek. Then she whispered, "The memorable entrances always get people what they yearn for."

 

[Potenza]

If the heir to the grand duchy was not red in the face before, then he was clearly red in the face now. He had not expected Theodora to touch his hair and face, let alone kiss his cheek. He was not used to attention from females, let alone physical attention. At her words he stammered and said, "I-I-I...I only yearn for you..." He quickly cleared his throat, "Yearn...for you to feel welcomed. Mother, perhaps I should..."

"Oh no no no no!" said the Grand Duchess Aldone, seeing that what she precisely wanted to happen was happening. She grasped her son's arm and brought him into the room. "You are more than welcome, son! Please, why don't you and her royal highness have a seat on the love couch?" The love couch - as it was so properly named - was nothing more than an antique couch with intricate designs, given to the Visconti family nearly two hundred years ago. It was in proper condition all things considering, and could hold the weight of Theodora and Drago together.

The Visconti count looked to Theodora, eyeing her a moment before bowing and motioning for the couch, silently offering her to sit before him.

"Such a gentleman..." murmured Francesca, "and a silent one at that."

"It must be wonderful for Giovanna to have an older brother," Adolina commented, "younger brothers just aren't the same."

Aldone motioned to a servant, and within a few seconds some maids entered carrying pitchers and cups of tea. They were wearing their usual late nineteenth century dresses, and the cups, saucers and pitchers were exquisite silver patterns from professional designers. Unlike most of the inanimate objects in the room, these were actually fairly new.

Aldone and Lia sat in individual chairs opposite Theodora and Drago, with Lia asking, "Have you come to Potenza before, your highness?"

 

[Taley]

Theodora took the seat that had been offered to her by Drago. Her eyes remained fixed on his, only broken to as she turned to accept the cup of tea from the servant. She blew on the cup to cool the warm tea before drinking, of course the tea was not hot enough to require it, but the action had other motives. Then Duchess Lia asked her a question, Theodora turned to her with a sweet smile.

"Purtroppo non la mia duchessa. I have traveled to many places, from my mothers lands in Arendaal, to the beaches of Bari, and from Montelimar to Eiffelland. But I must confess I have not traveled to fair Potenza before. Thus far it reminds me of a more temperate feeling of home."

 

[Potenza]

Drago kept his eyes on Theodora's as she sat down. At her blowing of the tea, he looked at her lips, studying them. He felt like a 12-year old all over again, discovering that the opposite gender had, in fact, it's own mannerisms, traits and methods of appeal.

"You should have the Visconti show you the Ponte Vecchio while you're here," Duchess Lia continued, referring to the bridge in San Salvo that had been standing since medieval times, "it's the most famous location in San Salvo. It's especially beautiful at night, when they light it up against the river."

"I was actually intending to take her there tonight," Drago said - something he hadn't intended to say until just that moment, "with mother's permission."

"Oh of course," said Aldone, "I'll alert the scorta in a moment. Unless, of course, her royal highness had other plans."

 

[Taley]

"Unfortunately your highness I will be unable to go with you to the Ponte Vecchio tonight. I must meet with our Envoy to Potenza, and there is so much to be done at the Legation while I am here. Cordelia and I will, however, be staying in Potenza for the summer season so we may be able to visit the Vecchio another evening and see the lights."

Theodora smiled politely as Cordelia gave her another cup of tea. Then she got an idea that may be fun to entertain and see the reaction out of Drago.

"Perhaps this summer we shall have to spend a day together to make up for it."

 

[Potenza]

Curses! Drago thought as her royal highness declined his informal royal invitation. What am I to do now? That invitation had been the only thing he could come up with! Court tutors could teach him how to speak to ladies of court, but not how to woo them! His mind went blank. If one could read his brain activity, they would hear that familiar, long, beep of activity flat-lining.

Think, think, think, Drago said, gripping the armrest of the love couch nervously, How do you recover from this? Think...think...

It was then that Theodora piped in with, "Perhaps this summer we shall have to spend a day together to make up for it."

Drago blinked, shocked at this. Was she still interested in speaking with him? Did she like him? Or was she being nice? How does one read these things called females?

"That's a splendid idea!" the Duchess Lia said. "Drago, you could take her to the Potenzan sea and show her some of the resorts there. They have a lovely view, especially during the summer."

Lia and Aldone quickly exchanged glances and little smiles. They were both mothers, and Lia herself had now caught on what Aldone was trying to do, and had decided to attempt, subtly, to support it.

"The P-Potenzan Sea?" Drago said, stuttering just a bit. The Visconti house did have contacts with all the major resorts, who were always willing to open up a spare room (or kick someone out) for them. Along the southern coast of the sea, just north of San Salvo, there was a wonderful view of the water, with sailboats often heading out and historical ships taking tourists too and fro. What's more, they had lovely beaches, and Drago began to imagine Theodora in a lovely but tasteful swimsuit...splashing around...laughing and letting him chase her playfully...her hair waving behind her in lovely curls...and...

Wait...wait wait wait...what was coming over him? He really was like a 12-year old all over again. His mind was acting like a horrible afternoon kid's show. He had to be the count and heir that he was, and to play the man. He had to act cool headed. He was the heir to the grand duchy! This is your moment, Drago thought to himself, you have to prove yourself here!

"Yes, yes," Drago said, trying to sound as sincere and serious as possible, "I would be all for that - if her royal highness was also, of course."

 

[Potenza]

OOC: o/' Let's do the time warp again... o/'

Torriani Family Estate
Venosa, Potenza

Duke Guido della Torre stood on the crow's nest of the large estate that had belonged to the Torriani family since the Visconti "generously" gave it to them after the Constitutional Convention that permitted all the royal families to return. The crow's nest itself had been built by Guido's great grandfather, who wanted a better view of the countryside in his quieter moments. The Duchy of Venosa was indeed a beautiful locale: all around the palace were the rolling hills, green during the summer, and with wide, expansive skies of blue and white. Far in the distance, Guido could make out the vineyard workers going up and down the hills, tending to the grapes that would be crushed into Potenzan wine to be sold either to a drunkard in San Salvo or a foreign dignitary beyond the borders.

Much was on the young duke's mind, in particularly the pipeline deal that had occurred within the past few days. Originally, Guido had teamed up with Count Niccolo di Grimaldi to organize a pipeline from Danmark, through Montelimar and into the Duchies of Turin and Venosa. The two men had similar aims, though Guido recognized there were different motives. The good Grimaldi count hoped to expand Turin's economy and win the support of the people. The Torriani duke, on the other hand, wanted a hand on the economy of Potenza - having the oil pipeline (and no doubt many of the refineries) inside his own duchy would give him some leverage above the other dukes. He would have access to a power that the grand duke himself would have to recognize. The only thing standing in his way was the resolution of the war in Montelimar, which was proving to make things difficult for the pipeline construction.

This was all why, when the Talemantine sought to gain leverage over the Danish offer, Guido was caught in a bind. He didn't want to gain any more ties with the Talemantine any more than he did the Engellex Empire - both were already allies of the Visconti and had leverage over the grand duke. Nonetheless, these were not motives that Niccolo had in mind, and so the Grimaldi count had accepted the offer of the Talemantine readily. Doing so would permit a quicker pipeline building into the grand duchy, and through the Duchies of Turin and Venosa as planned. If Niccolo was making it happen, Guido would have to comply or be left out. If the Talemantine started to build into Potenza, that would negate the Danish deal, which meant that the Duchy of Venosa would get no pipeline, refinery, or hand in the new state of affairs. Hence, when the Duchy of Turin complied, the Duchy of Venosa would have to follow suit.

Guido glanced down at the new cane Niccolo had sent him, as promised in Franken. It was made of ivory for the staff, and had a golden head with the Torriani emblem engraved at the top. He lifted up the cane and held it length-wise along the horizon, quietly imagining an oil pipeline going across the horizon, bringing more readily available resources to the people. He mused over this fantasy for a while before bringing the cane back down and sighing gently:

"Improvisation...a necessity to survive in politics."

 

[Potenza]

Duchy of Cremona
Grand Duchy of Potenza

Countess Adalina di Morosini was biting her finger nervously as the Morosini car drove her in the direction of Turin to have her first meeting with Count Stefano di Grimaldi. Over the past few days, she had been biting her fingers feverishly. Not on her fingernails, however - she nibbled along her knuckles, breathing heavily against the flesh that was eventually worn down by the constant biting and rubbing. By now, both her fore and middle finger on her right hand were red along the knuckles. The servants had begun to worry about her, but knew better than to ask - doing so with the Duke Gustavo around might have earned his wrath.

Soon the vehicle - a lovely black Potenzan model bearing the markings of the Morosini house - was out of the city and going down the familiar open countryside of the Duchy of Turin's northern regions. Adalina looked out, imagining to herself the immense battles that had occurred during the Great Potenzan War of the 17th century. As a teenager she used to imagine fighting alongside the famous Duke Marco I...now, however, she couldn't do it. Thinking about Duke Marco I, known for his kindness and humility, only reminded her of her own father, the current duke, and it reminded her of all the times he had beaten her. It came back and she started to groan a bit, biting on her finger again.

"Are you all right, your highness?"

It was the Carabinieri officer who was assigned as her driver. He was a young man, maybe a few years younger than the 24-year old Adalina, and fairly handsome. He wore the traditional pressed suit and cap that most people identified with the Carabinieri.

"I-I'm fine," Adalina replied, licking her finger a little, feeling a hint of blood that was seeping through her wounds, "c-can you stop a moment, please...?"

"Your highness?"

"Just stop by the side of the road...I want to see something..."

"All right..."

The officer pulled the vehicle over to the side of the road, each side decked with long, open plains. Adalina stood out and smiled, glancing about the scenery. She was wearing a simple white skirt with a white blouse and blue necklace, which didn't make her stand out in any means. She hugged herself with her thin arms, looking about and enjoying the feel of the cool wind in her hair. The Carabinieri got out and stood at attention by the door, keeping an eye on her. The countess looked at him and smiled sweetly, causing the young man to blush ever so slightly. She walked across the road to the other side, studying the open sky and field before finally saying:

"There was a battle here, I think."

"I wouldn't know, your highness."

Adalina shut her eyes, picturing the men in the uniform of the Duchy of Cremona, looking so brilliant and dashing. She pictures Duke Marco I's famous musketeers holding their guns, preparing to give an orderly fire by rank against the Aren enemy. Oh, how much she longed to be with them. To wear that uniform, to stand shoulder to shoulder, and to defend Potenza against her enemies. She wanted to feel that comradeship.

Suddenly, she turned around and said curtly to the officer, "Can I try on your cap?"

The Carabinieri blinked, "What?"

"Can I try on your cap?"

The young man was taken aback, unsure why she would ask such a thing, but it seemed harmless. He took off his hat and walked over to her, holding it out, "Here you are, your highness."

To his surprise, Adalina didn't put it on at a silly angle, backwards, or anything else amateurish - she put it on sharply and neatly as if she was an officer. She glanced up, finding that it fit her nicely and smiling to herself. She looked at the Carabinieri and snapped her heels together, going into a sharp salute. One could tell she had practiced the salute often.

The officer laughed, "Very nice, your highness."

"Now let me try your jacket."

The officer blinked again, "What?"

"Let me try on your jacket."

This is getting weird, he thought to himself, but again, it seemed harmless enough. He unbuttoned his jacket and handed it to her. Adalina put it on, finding it a little big but still a better fit than expected. She buttoned it and smiled, doing an about face and taking a few direct steps before returning to her original spot, as if she was on parade.

"It doesn't work," Adalina said, taking off the jacket and placing it on the road, "I need your shirt too."

"W-what?!" the Carabinieri cried out. Before he could say anything else, Adalina was taking off her white blouse and tossing it aside. She was a scrawny, underweight girl with a flat chest, but all the same the Carabinieri was not used to seeing girls disrobe before him, and his cheeks became a dark, dark shade of red. "Your highness, w-what are you...?!"

"Give me your shirt!" Adalina cried out. The Carabinieri paused. Suddenly, Adalina lunged forward, unhooked the cover of the Carabinieri's handgun, grabbing the Beretta-brand weapon, cocking the chamber and pointing the barrel at the young man's forehead. "Give me your shirt!!"

"Y-Your highness!!" the officer said, completely at a loss of what to do. What was more shocking to him? The fact that he was being ordered to strip, or the fact that he was put in charge of apparently the only countess in the world who knew how to handle a firearm? He quickly undid his tie, followed by his shirt, tossing it to Adalina.

"Good!" the countess said, smiling at the clothing. "Now...take me to San Salvo."

"But I was told take you to..."

"No!" cried Adalina, almost like a little girl. Almost as quickly as she had stolen the gun, Adalina struck the Carabinieri at the bottom of the neck with the pistol's handle. The officer convulsed from the nerve strike, crumbling to the ground like a potato chip, temporarily stunned. Adalina rushed to the car, getting the keys and opening the trunk. Next she dragged the mumbling officer over to the trunk, placing him in and taking his pants and shoes neck. In a few minutes she was dressed as a Carabinieri...almost. She took a knife she had in her purse and grabbed her hair, cutting it shorter.

Now she was ready. She would call the Duchy of Turin offices and let them know they were being delayed by traffic - that would give her a few free hours. It would just take those few hours for her to get to the San Salvo international airport and get on the flight to the Talemantine Empire. Her being dressed as a Carabinieri would not be suspicious enough, as many law enforcement officers were heading to Zamosca and would have to go through Talemantros. Her identity might cause some giggles or blushed faces at the booking center, but it would be quick enough that neither her father nor the Duchy of Turin would have released word that she was missing. As for the officer, she would give the San Salvo department of the Ministry of Law Enforcement a call that one of their own was in a vehicle at the airport...just before she boarded the plane, of course.

She had been planning this since the night before, when she received an email from her aunt telling her that she was always welcomed at her home. This aunt was Duke Gustavo's younger sister Tecla, who had married a Talemantine prince and was now a duchess. Adalina intended to escape there and find safety with her Aunt Tecla...

Safety...safety from a marriage she didn't want, with a man she didn't want, in a life she didn't want...and most importantly, safety from her father.

As Adalina drove down the long road that would lead past Turin and to her eventual freedom, she caught herself in the rearview mirror. That cap rested nicely on her head, the brim ending just at her eyebrows. The countess smiled and adjusted it, doing another salute to some imaginary superior officer before returning her gaze to the road.

 

[Potenza]

Reate, Talemantine Empire

Adalina, still dressed in the Carabinieri uniform and holding the cap under her arm, looked about in amazement at the living conditions of her aunt. Tecla di Morosini, the youngest sister to Duke Gustavo, had married Gavino de Vesci in 1987, the Duke of Reate, and born him two sons, Stefano and Teodoro. Adalina had often loved the sympathy Tecla showed her as child, and in many ways she had been the mother she had never had. This was why, at this moment, she seemed to be the only person in the world she could trust to save her from all the troubles that plagued her back in Potenza.

"You are welcome anywhere you like," Tecla said to her niece, "my servants have already readied a room for you. And I might have some more appropriate clothing for you."

Adalina looked down at the uniform, which she had to admit was slightly large on her, "I suppose, Aunt Tecla..."

"You adore uniforms, don't you?"

Adalina smiled slightly, "Perhaps..."

Tecla smiled and walked over to the countess, running her hand along her cheek, "You are a sweet young lady. I'm sorry what happened to you in Potenza. Know everything is all right. No one will hurt you here. We will protect you."

As the duchess stroked Adalina's cheek, she smiled and leaned into her aunt's palm, for the first time in years feeling safe and secure.

"Aunt Tecla," she said suddenly, her voice soft and low, as if slightly ashamed of what she was about to say, "I was wondering...if it was possible for me to wear a uniform here...?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you would ask such questions," Tecla replied, patting Adalina's cheek, "I believe the legion is recruiting...with my connections, you could probably have a junior officer position."

The smile which grew on Adalina's face was big and bright, "Is that so?"

"Yes, and I can put in the papers as soon as possible."

Adalina lunged forward, hugging her aunt tight, "Oh, thank you...thank you so much...!"