The Womb of Time

[Potenza]

Torriani Palace
Duchy of Venosa

Rain was sweeping across southern Potenza, and it fell hard. Outside the palace one could barely see a few feet in front them, almost rendering any travel impossible. For that reason, most of the Torriani clan had chosen to stay inside and enjoy the warmth of the palace. Duke Guido himself was standing before the large window at the end of the main hallway, looking at the rain as it fell on the gardens outside. A cup of tea rested before him on the window sill, reflecting the rain hitting the window in an almost perfect, but beautiful, reflection.

Francesca stepped up behind her brother, running her hand up the middle of his back and onto his shoulder. Guido had heard the click-clack of her high heels as she approached, but as usual he trusted her enough to keep his back turned.

"Were you behind Duke Gustavo's vote of no confidence?" Francesca asked in a soft voice that assured Guido it was her.

The young Torriani duke smiled and picked up his tea, sipping it quietly before replying, "Somewhat. I told Prime Minister Merlino he should see if the Chamber of Ministers would humor themselves with it. The result was what I cared about more."

"Why was that?"

Guido shifted his eyes, catching the reflection of his sister's dark eyes in the windowpane. He smiled more, saying in a whisper:

"So I could see if this Chamber enjoyed removing nobles from power...they might have to remove someone even higher someday..."

Grand Duke's Palace
San Salvo, Potenza

Eldizio stared out the window at the rain, drumming his gloved fingers quietly on the arm rest of his chair. He was facing away from the door, which he normally didn't do while resting in his office, but he had a soft spot for rain, and was enjoying the show. It would keep him calm for the meeting that was about to start.

The door opened, and a servant said, "Your majesty - His Royal Highness Duke Gustavo di Morosini is here."

"Show him in," Eldizio said. He usually wasn't so curt with his servants, but the serious subject was on his mind and prevented his tone from raising beyond anything else besides neutral. He turned the chair around slowly, looking at the face of his desk. Many pages lay there, spread out in a nice fan formation. The front page revealed that it was sent by the Chamber of Ministers, and anyone who knew the latest news reports would be aware that it could be nothing else than the demand from Potenza's parliamentary body for the abdication of Duke Gustavo di Morosini. The grand duke lifted up his eyes and saw the Morosini duke enter, the servant shutting the door behind Gustavo. He was definitely a tall, dashing man, of strong build. Strong build...and the only thing he seemed to fight were young ladies...

"Your majesty," Gustavo said, smiling brightly, "very good to see you. I trust you're doing well."

"I've been better," Eldizio said, his tone low in pitch, "tell me plainly Gustavo - are the stories true?"

"What stories, your majesty?"

"That you beat your youngest daughter."

Gustavo made a scoffing gesture at that, "Nonsense, I disciplined my children like any other father would."

"Adalina often had bruises that looked more than mere discipline," Eldizio remarked, "and why would she leave the country all of a sudden?"

"I don't know. That girl was never right. I mean, thinking of joining the military? In her state?"

As the duke's last few words teetered out of his mouth, the room became filled with a rather sinister silence. The grand duke was staring coldly at Gustavo, his fingers drumming on his other hand in slow, exact rhythms. Finally he said:

"Gustavo, you're not making it easy for me. The grand duchy no longer wants you to be Duke of Cremona. Please defend yourself before I make a decision I may hate making."

"Decision? No, you can survive this tide!" Gustavo said, his demeanor showing that he was getting slightly antsy. "You know you can. Let the press have their fun. Let the Chamber of Ministers rattle. It means nothing. Only you have the power to do anything. You don't need to do anything!"

"Gustavo, you beat your daughter. What father would do that?"

"Don't you tell me how to run my house!" Gustavo suddenly exclaimed, slamming his fist on the grand duke's desk and causing him to sit up. "Don't you dare! You may run this grand duchy, but I am leader of my house! I can't do whatever I want, especially to my dike daughter!"

"Gustavo!" The grand duke stood up, raising his voice. It was something Eldizio did very rarely, and when he did, people tended to listen from shock. "Don't you dare talk to me that way in my office. I am the Grand Duke of Potenza, and while you pledge loyalty to this nation, you will pledge loyalty and respect to me, do you understand?!"

"You are no grand duke!" Gustavo retorted. "Not even close! You follow the whims of the people every which way! You suck the cock of Engellex and Talemantros! You-"

"Gustavo, you will not speak to me that way in my office," Eldizio interrupted, calming his tone only slightly, "I'm not-"

Suddenly, the Morosini duke threw a fist right for Eldizio's face. The grand duke ducked quickly but was still caught in the jaw, feeling his face jerk to the side from impact. He fell in his chair and hit an emergency button on the side of the table. In an instance his scorta - the personal guard - were inside, grabbing Duke Gustavo by the arms and pinning him against the top of the desk. The Duke of Cremona was writhing now, acting like a rabid animal and trying desperately to break free of the scorta grips. The grand duke walked around the table, rubbing the area of his jaw that had been struck, feeling a small patch of purple begin to form.

"Duke Gustavo di Morosini," Eldizio said grimly, "you are dismissed. Tomorrow you will be expelled from Potenza, and as long as I am in power, you will never return. Now take this daughter beating bastard out of my sight."

The scorta lifted Gustavo up and dragged him out. Eldizio shut the doors and sighed, looking at himself in the mirror. There was, in fact, a nice splotch of purple forming in the area that Gustavo had struck. With a sigh, Eldizio whispered to himself, "How will I explain this to Aldone?"

 

[Taley]

"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."

“Vorrei il mio Conte.” Theodora replied to Count Drago. “We would have to make plans sometime in the coming weeks, especially with the growing schedule we have been given.” Theodora looked back to Cordeila, whose nod confirmed the seemingly hectic schedule of the Talemantine Princess. The princess quietly finished her tea

“In fact,” Cordelia interjected into the conversation, “Her highness must be getting along for a special meeting with the Talemantine envoy at the Legation.”

“Where would I be without Cordelia making sure I am always on schedule.” Theodora set down her cup and stood up from the sofa where she was sitting with Drago. She turned to Aldone, “I am grateful for her royal highness’s most gracious hospitality with inviting me here for this luncheon and for all the warm welcome that has been shown to my their graces. I look forward to the upcoming season and my stay in Potenza.”

Grand Princess Theodora said goodbye to each of the duchesses and to Aldone before she left followed by Cordelia.

 

[Taley]

Forli, Talemantine Empire

Forli was an old city in the Northwest Talemantros that during the middle ages held the swamp and marsh lands of Valeria against repeated Muslim invaders who dared marched against the empire. Now most of the swamps and marshes of the region have been drained for settlement and now Forli, like the other cities of the west, was a walled city center surrounded by urban sprawl. Now the walled city center was home to the heart of the city, with its famous markets and churches, and the centerpiece of the old preserved fortifications was the Castle of Rovolla. While it no longer was responsible for the defense of the city, the Castle was still the headquarters of the military in the region, the IV Legion.

Now the small motorcade baring the markings of the Duke of Reate traveled through the streets of Forli towards the citadel, inside it was the Duchess Tecla of Reate, and Countess Adalina di Morosini. They were on their way to see the Legate of the IV Legion and to inquire about the possibility of getting Adalina into the Talemantine Military. There weren’t many groups that could challenge the authority of the emperor, but the military was one of those two entities, but it still was subordinate to the imperial government.

Adelina looked out the windows as the motorcade went through the massive stone gate house into the walled city.

“Aunt Tecla are you sure the general will allow me to join the Legion?”

“Well it is a tricky subject Adelina. The military here is deep in tradition and professionalism. They have been defending these lands for thousands of years and both princes and emperors have had to prove themselves before the military, and so will you if you expect them to take you.”

“I am ready to prove myself Aunt Tecla.” Adelina thought to herself. “Aunt Tecla I heard that the general in charge of this legion is also a Morosini. It that true?”

“Yes that is true. Our branch of the family descends from the Morosini that traveled to Potenza as hired soldiers and mercenaries; there we achieved our current status from the battlefields to the ducal halls. The other Morosini however stayed in Talemantros to fight for the emperor and realm.”

“Now it seems another Morosini has come home to fight.”

“Yes Adelina it would seem so.”

The motorcade pulled through the gate of the Castello di Rovolla and stopped in the stone courtyard. The two noblewomen stepped out of the car and were greeted by a young private. “Il mio Reate Duchessa, io sono di accompagnarvi in ufficio del Legato.”* The Private led the two women through the hallways of the modernized structure to an large waiting area. The private motioned for the Duchess and Countess to take a seat. It was clear that the two Potenzan noblewomen were not accustomed to having to wait upon other especially those that were not aristocrats as they were, however, Tecla had expected as much and all were equal to another on the battlefeild.

The secretary, in military uniform, looked at the duchess. “The Legatus will be with you shortly.”

*My Duchess Reate, I am to escort you to the office of the Legate.

 

[Taley]

Office of the Legatus
Forli, Talemantine Empire

After a few minutes waiting the large oak doors with the Legate’s coat of arms carved in the center of the doors opened. It was weird for Adelina seeing the same fleur-di-lis on the wood doors that was also used for her family back in Potenza. Walking through the doors was an aged man with a couple of stars pined on this shoulder and he was followed by two aids.

“The orders will be forwarded to you General Innocenti.” The receptionist said to the leaving general. She then looked towards Adelina and Tecla. “The Legate will see you now.”

The two Potenzan women stood from their seats and walked through the doors into the large simplistic office. The receptionist quietly closed the doors behind them. At the far end of room were large medieval windows cut into the stone wall giving a view overlooking the city the Castello used to protect. Along the adjacent sides of the room were glass showcases that held artifacts from previous wars in the region going back centuries. There were also a few bookcases filled with books about past wars and conflict, history of various regions both foreign and domestic, biographies of famous military leaders, and a few autobiographies of contemporary Talemantine generals. In the center of the room were a set of sofas arranged to make a sort-of lounge area with a small coffee table between them.

At the far end of the office, in front of the windows, was an old looking desk that matched the room and behind the desk sat a man, who looked in his early 60s, with strands of grey strewn about his hair. He wore his uniform and Adelina looked at the myriad of the rows of ribbons on his jacket and the three silver stars on his shoulders. The man was reviewing a file and then signed his name at the bottom and put the file aside. Lieutenant General Cesario Morosini looked up at the Potenzan women.

“Lady Tecla, please have a seat. I received a call from the secretariat regarding your niece.”

“Yes Legatus, she has traveled here from Potenza in hopes of better prospects in a military career.”

Cesario leaned back in his chair and looked at the duchess. “I do believe that the Potenzan military allows female soldiers, why did she not join up there and serve her own country instead of here in Himyar?”

All Adelina could do was look down into her lap. She wondered if the man across from her knew why she couldn’t do this in Potenza. There was a small moment of silence that ended with Tecla’s voice. “General Cesario, there are extenuating circumstances back in Potenza that would prohibit Adelina from seeking a career in the armed forces back home.”

“Extenuating circumstances like an abusive father, an arranged marriage, and now a runaway. Lady Tecla, the Imperial Army doesn’t take in strays that run away from home to go and play soldier.”

“Cesario, regardless of her circumstances you will see that she is proficient in firearms and has basic combat training and will make a great addition to this legion.”

“Taking self-defense classes at a shooting range is not the same thing as combat readiness.”

“They weren’t self-defense classes.” Adelina interjected into the conversation causing the Legate to look at her, but she could not bring herself to meet his gaze. A silence fell upon the room and enveloped the three for a moment.

Cesario leaned forward still watching the young countess. He turned his gaze back to the duchess. “Then you should be speaking with the commanders of the Vaalbaran Guard. Their whole reason for creation is for foreigners to join and serve.”

“Legatus, the Guard are glorified sentinels at the door –”

Tecla was cut off by the general. “The Vaalbaran Guard is far from glorified sentinels Lady Reate, they are responsible for the well-being of the emperor, the heart of this realm. If the guard was not to the liking of la contessa poco* then she can enlist just like the regular soldier.”

“Enlistment is not proper for her stature, and I was hoping that as we are family you could find her an officer position within the legion.” Tecla responded to the general.

Cesario was getting agitated by the continuing of the meeting, especially at the words of the Potenzan. “First, we are not family Tecla di Morosini. Many centuries separate you and me, and the only thing we share is a surname.” Duchess Tecla was taken aback at the general’s statement. “Secondly, stature means nothing in imperial service; everything is earned upon merit and actions in service of the crown. If the Potenzan Military Academy rejected her then why should we accept her? She could be a liability for this legion. How can we even know if she is capable and that she can even live up to the standards of our military?”

Adelina listed as her aunt and the legate argued back and forth seemingly going nowhere. The general felt that she was undeserving and didn’t want her here. She saw her opportunity slipping between her fingers just like back home. In Potenza they said she wasn’t good enough and now this Talemantine was saying the same thing. Once again her dream was being dashed and like the rest of them this man couldn’t, no, wouldn’t, he refused to see the potential in her. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by, not again. If he wouldn’t see for himself she would show him and make sure he saw it. Adelina mustered up all the courage she could find, “I can do it Legatus Morosini.” She looked up at him holding his gaze. Her voice was determined, but shaky. “I can do whatever you order me to do. I am very capable of serving this legion and meeting your standards, just, please, let me show you what I can do.”

Cesario looked at the young woman that spoke. He could see a small determination in her eyes. The legatus thought for a minute evaluating the Morosini girl before coming to a conclusion about her. Once he decided he leaned forward looking at Adelina, “This is what I will do. I will give you a place in the Legion as a 2nd Lieutenant Cadet. If you do well, I will give you a recommendation to the Imperial Military Academy to complete you training if they chose to accept you. However, if there is a single bad report from any of your commanders you will be out and sent not back to your aunt, but back home to Potenza.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Adelina could barely contain herself with joy and was nearly jumping out of her seat. “You won’t regret this general sir, I promise you.”

“I better not. For now on you are no longer Countess Adelina di Morosini; everything you want you have to earn it. Now you are to report for evaluation on your capabilities and will use this weekend to see what you can do and where to send you. Speak to Ruth outside and she will direct you to where you need to go.”

“Thank you again general!” Adelina said as her and her aunt made their way out of the office.

*the little countess.

 

[Potenza]

That weekend, Adelina was sent to a Talemantine boot camp to begin her military training. Almost everyone seemed to know who she was, and some particular attention was given to her for it. However, this attention was anything but positive. The drill sergeants all called her La Contessa Poca - or just Contessa for short - and often honed in on her almost immediately when it seemed she was having a moment of struggle. The moment she fell in the mud, or fell behind on the laps, she soon found a shouting tone in her ear. Adelina was no longer among the courts of Potenza - let alone the courts of Talemantros - for now she had gone on among the paupers, and these paupers were having fun with the "princess" in ways they rarely could in public. The Potenzan took it all with a quiet humility, and every insult seemed to egg her on to try harder and improve more. This was noticed by the vast majority of drill sergeants, so that - even if their treatment of her did not change dramatically - their respect for her began to grow slowly and gradually.

In regards to combat, Adelina showed greater skill than many expected. Despite her scrawny stature, she was often able to overcome or show herself equal to opponents who were greater than her in size. When it came to firearms, she never became the best shot, but proved to handle the rifle and pistol better than most of her fellow recruits, so that some even began to ask her for tips and suggestions. Off the training field, things took an awkward turn. Adelina found herself shy and timid around the women, and often tried to delay herself when it came time for showers, in order that she might shower alone. She felt much more comfortable around the men, and at the mess hall she was often found in the midst of other men. Even if she rarely said anything, there seemed to display a greater peace on her face.

The routines, the training, even the verbal (and at times physical) beatings took some getting used to, but soon the Potenzan was growing more and more accustomed - if not comfortable - with it all. Still, there was one depressing thought on her mind, and that was what awaited her when it was all done. She would be a Second Lieutenant Cadet, which meant she would most likely sit behind a desk and serve some office duty. She would be nothing more than a secretary in uniform. This simply wasn't what she desired...she longed for a command position, to lead men into battle and to prove her worth in this regard. At night, when she couldn't sleep, she would gaze out the windows and think of Potenza again, thinking of those battlefields she had visited, and those reenactors she had observed. She prayed quietly that someday she too would have a chance to command in a battle that would be remembered many centuries later.

 

[Potenza]

Grand Duke's Palace
San Salvo, Potenza

"No no," Grand Duke Eldizio I said, "no no, I can't visit the archbishop today, it will have to be tomorrow. I'll give the official congratulations for the pope at a luncheon."

"Your majesty," said a Visconti aide, a young woman in 19th century maid garments - the usual attire for those who worked at the palace, "His Royal Highness Count Niccolo di Grimaldi is here."

"Oh yes, he was expected," Eldizio replied. He motioned to his staff to depart, then told the maid, "bring him to my office."

The grand duke headed to his office - that shadow of what used to be a glorious room where the leader of the Grand Duchy of Potenza had welcomed so many foreign dignitaries - to meet the Count of Turin and de facto head of the Grimaldi house and Duchy of Turin. Eldizio had grown to trust Niccolo's advice, and entrusted him to represent the monarchy at foreign events, but he realized now that with that trust came a transfer of power. Niccolo had grown to be trusted by dukes and prime ministers alike, and with that his word was almost taken as canon. The grand duke realized now that Niccolo had usurped a great amount of power behind closed doors, and the only thing that prevented Eldizio from banishing Niccolo or working against him was the fact that he knew the Grimaldi count had no aspirations for taking over the country. He was not even interested in becoming Duke of Turin - he was happy with his control over a city and with working with his brother and nephew in regards to running the duchy, and he left it at that.

That controversial count now walked through the doors, bowing before the Grand Duke with the respect and honor owed to the position:

"Your majesty."

"Welcome, Count Niccolo," Eldizio replied, standing up from the desk and shaking Niccolo's hand, "please, have a seat."

Niccolo did so, realizing that he wished he could smoke the cigar he had in his jacket pocket, but could not, given that Eldizio himself did not smoke and preferred no one did in the palace, save the smoking room. Once he was comfortable enough, the count began:

"I'm here, your majesty, with some respect to your position. I wanted to alert you to the fact that you are treading on dangerous waters these days."

"Is that so?" Eldizio said, sitting down himself, "Why is that?"

"Your approval ratings are staying consistent around 40%, and though there's no sign of them dropping, there's no sign of them rising either. If the situation spirals out of control, you won't be able to recover. You will fall in the muck, and you will not get out. That is, you will lose that sword of Alexandria you wear at all times."

The Grand Duke's expression fell at those words...because he knew it was true. The count spoke rightly - Eldizio had served his country only with the people in mind, and yet, because of some that were unpopular, they were turning against him. Prime Minister Merlino was enjoying success and popularity, while the people looked at the grand duke like a silly old man who sat on a throne and held a position they saw as more annoying than necessary.

"The key, I believe," Niccolo continued, "is with the Wasatch situation. Even bigger and more powerful countries want to commit solely naval forces. If you commit the Potenzan army, you will put Potenza on the international scene. You will show that you are not afraid to flex your power."

"I will do no such thing," Eldizio replied, his brow furrowing, "Wasatch is no direct threat to us. They are a mild security concern. That is all."

Niccolo patted his lips with his forefinger, thinking a moment on how to respond. He was worried the grand duke would prove to be this stubborn. In truth, Niccolo had slowly grown to be disillusioned with the grand duke, as he saw him make one poor position after another. In Niccolo's opinion, Eldizio was a weak monarch, and was showcasing the inherent weak position of the monarch in Niccolism. The count would have to be blunt.

"Your majesty," Niccolo said, after much of an awkward pause, "the prime minister is thinking of transferring the military, with or without your approval. If you oppose, he will contest your power. The people support a move by Potenza against Wasatch. If you strike against the prime minister, he will turn against you. The people will turn against you. You do not have the approval rating high enough to win them over with personality. If they turn against you, your position may be compromised. If your position is compromised, you will be removed. And if you are removed, there's a possibility that the monarchical system itself would be removed. And that means...monarchy would end in Potenza."

"Impossible," Eldizio said, "I know that you yourself don't believe that."

"It's a possibility," Niccolo explained, "this republican movement is growing in Turin and Cremona. It's picking up a good pace. A complete abolishing of the nobility would take a slow time, but if you give them your hand, they will take your arm, and not stop there. You will be the bogeyman they need to continue their anti-nobility campaign. And, as you might imagine, I don't want that."

Eldizio let out a slow sigh, leaning against the desk, "Then what do you suppose I do?"

"Mobilize the troops. Send a division or two."

"No, I will do no such thing," was the grand duke's quick reply, "I don't care what others think."

The count sighed, folding his hands over his lap, "Your majesty, while you might desire to have a good name in the history books, you're overlooking the larger picture here. The situation is much bigger than your own personal feelings."

"I'm sorry," Eldizio said, "I have to be firm here. I will not send Potenzan boys and girls to possibly die in a conflict that is unnecessary."

Under the collars that bore the traditional marks of the Grimaldi herald, Niccolo could feel the heat rising. The grand duke was proving to be a stubborn pacifist, and with it he was signing the death warrant of the Potenzan nobility. There was yet another awkward pause in the room, and finally the count arose, bowing again:

"If that is all the Grand Duke wishes to say..."

"Niccolo, wait," now Eldizio stood, leaning forward on the desk. He paused, trying to find the words. Finally he let out another sigh, and said in a low voice, "I understand what you're trying to do. I don't want you to hate me for it. I greatly respect your advice and concern. Just please understand...I still command the military. They're loyal to me. I can't send them into battle where they might die unless I believe in the cause they fight for. Please understand that."

There was no reaction from Niccolo. The Grimaldi count stared at the grand duke a good while before bowing again, saying, "Understood, your majesty." With that, he backed away, keeping himself bowed, opening the door after fumbling with the knob a bit, and continuing out with his body bowed towards the grand duke. It was an old tradition that few did these days, and yet the Grimaldi count upheld it. Whether it was out of sincere respect or a reminder to the Grand Duke of the esteem in his position, Eldizio wasn't certain.

As soon as the door shut Niccolo turned and continued walking down the hall. Only one thing was on his mind...he had to visit the prime minister.

 

[Potenza]

Grand Duke's Palace
San Salvo, Potenza

They say that, to a political leader, the problems in his nation are like the sands of a desert, and each one is considered of the utmost importance. As Grand Duke Eldizio I sat isolated in the tea room of the palace, one could properly say that it was not uncanny. He had often sat there to ponder decisions that had to be made regarding Potenza, whether it was a matter of the economy, the military, the people, foreign affairs, or the state in general. Now, however, there was only one thing Eldizio had on his mind. Nothing else in the world mattered except that one thing...and this one thing was whether or not, by this weekend, he would still be the Grand Duke of Potenza.

Word had reached him from those still loyal to him in the Democratic Party that the vote of no confidence was to be held this coming Friday. Thus far, expectations did not bode well. Even those who had just a week before defended him against the National Alliance on the floor of the Chamber of Ministers seemed now poised to vote with the motion of no confidence. The referendum had been something of a gamble on Merlino's part, but it seemed to have worked. The National Alliance may have disliked Eldizio for his extreme pacifism, but the people of the Grand Duchy apparently did not care for him for a plethora of reasons, whether it was the economy, his handling of the Montelimar refugee crisis, or another matter entirely. The palace had received letters of support and pleas to contest any attempt to make him abdicate, but such resistance could only go so far when the voices supporting you were in a stark minority.

Many of those in the Democratic Party seemed especially fearful of the growing momentum of the Republican Party in their home constituencies. The Republicans were demanding greater power be granted to the people and less power given to the central government, and limiting the power of the grand duke - or removing him entirely - was part of that sentiment. If the Democratic Party sided with the Grand Duke, they would seem to be going against all their voters wanted, and they may very well lose the next parliamentary election. In many ways, Eldizio was the fall man for the political struggles going on inside Potenza: he was a target from the National Alliance because of his refusal to cooperate with the prime minister; he was a target with the Republican Party because he was a symbol of the nobility; he was a target with the Democratic Party because of the Republican Party's growing popularity. In the end, it seemed like only a few brave voices would rise up to support him. The situation was grim. Eldizio was well aware that his wife Aldone was somewhere in the palace praying on her rosary, hoping that perhaps the appeals and combined prayers of prophetic Saint Salvo, charitable Saint Lucia, and knightly Saint Gomberto would be enough to turn the tide.

As the Grand Duke sat in the chair, looking forlornly at the floor, a gloved finger tapping his cheek, it suddenly dawned on him that he could hear a quiet sniffling. He glanced up and saw a young woman peeking around the entryway at him. He recognized the small frame, soft features and sad dark eyes as his own daughter, the Countess Giovanna. Her husband, Count Gavino della Torre, had said she was adamant about being with her father during this times, and so she had come the day before to pay the palace a visit. Now she stood there, looking at her father with sad, puppy-like eyes that water with tears ready to flow, and little pursed lips that shivered every now and then.

"Giovanna?" Eldizio said, standing up. "What's wrong?"

"P...p..." Her stutter failed her at saying her own father's title, which ashamed her. She squinted her eyes, tears finally flowing down her cheeks, and suddenly she ran forward, grabbing her father and hugging him tight. Eldizio hugged her back, hearing his daughter cry against his ceremonial coat, dampening it with her many tears.

"Giovanna!" Eldizio said, running a hand down the back of her head. "Giovanna...please...why are you crying?"

Giovanna shook her head, unable to articulate, and then whispered in hushed tones, "Scared! Scared!"

"Frightened? They won't hurt you," Eldizio said, smiling, "it's me they want."

Giovanna shook her head again, then pointed her finger at her father, tapping his chest.

"Oh, I see," Eldizio said, "you're worried about me."

Giovanna nodded, still burying her face in her father's chest. The Grand Duke rubbed the back of her head again, smiling and saying in a soothing, fatherly tone:

"Don't be worried, my darling. They won't hurt me. They might say some crude things about me, but they won't take me away from you. You have my word. Everything will be all right..."

Eldizio felt his daughter only hug him all the tighter, as if she was greatly unsure and didn't trust anyone. Her arms held him to her as if she didn't want her father to leave her, as if she believed that no matter what people did, so long as her father was in her arms, he would be safe. The Grand Duke couldn't help but remember a time so long ago - when he had first been made grand duke - and Giovanna, just a little girl then, had dreamed a horrible nightmare. She came into the bedchambers of the most powerful man in Potenza in tears, and was readily welcomed into bed with the Grand Duke and Duchess. She had been weeping uncontrollably, even then unable to articulate anything, only thinking that with her mother and father those nightmares would go away. Back then, when Eldizio was younger and so much more certain of himself, he had held his little daughter in his arms, patting her head, letting her fall asleep crying against him, and whispered over and over again, not ceasing until she had fallen asleep, "Everything will be all right...everything will be all right...papa's here...everything will be all right..."

How long had that been, when his daughter had clung to him? He had been the father of the nation, and now the father's children were turning against him. Still, even in this moment, he had a loyal child, and she was now clinging to him. He was the only one that mattered anything to her, and she didn't want to see him go.

Eldizio glanced up and realized that his son and heir, Drago, was standing at the doorway now. The Grand Duke made his daughter look at him now, with those sad, watery eyes, and told her to go find her husband and let him know they were going to have a good feast tonight. She nodded and walked off, the sound of sniffles still heard as she disappeared down the hallway. Drago watched her leave, then turned his gaze back to his father. The boy seemed to have a confused expression, a bit like a student finding out the rumor that a test he had studied for was as yet postponed for another day. Eldizio said nothing at the moment, but sat down again, looking at the floor before finding the words to break the ice:

"Is your mother still praying?"

Drago nodded. After another period of silence, he asked:

"Will I be Grand Duke now, father?"

To some, those might have been cruel words, but Eldizio recognized they reflected his son's naivety rather than his ambition - if he had any. Eldizio leaned against his gloved hand and replied, "Do you want the fatherly answer or the honest answer?" When that received no response, Eldizio continued with, "No. No one in the country trusts you, Drago. There are doubts you'll be able to run the Visconti household when I'm gone, let alone the Grand Duchy. No. They'll probably give it to that limping loony who sits on his imaginary throne at Venosa, looking up at the hill bearing San Salvo and desiring to plant his wooden leg at the top. I'd be much happier if they gave it to Count Niccolo, but I know too well that he has no desire to be the one seated under Damocles' sword. No, they'll give the grand duchy to a Torriani, and a Torriani will sit in San Salvo and rule for the first time in two hundred years. That bastard Guido...that little bastard won..."

The words were blunt, but they were necessary, and reflected Eldizio's own pessimism about the nation's future. Drago, of course, felt like he had failed, and looked down with a sad expression. The Grand Duke sighed and stood up, proceed to walk out of the room to check on the Duchess. He stopped at the doorway to turn to Drago, and, with the same fatherly voice he gave Giovanna, said:

"Don't let public opinion scar you, boy. You've grown much in the past few years. When I am gone, I am certain you will run the household with honor and dignity. Just for now, be happy you live under a democracy and a medieval monarchy. In a democracy, they kill you with a vote. If you had lived a millennium ago, they would have killed you with a pike."

 

[Potenza]

Grand Duke's Palace
San Salvo, Potenza
September 4

All the nobility of Potenza were at the palace, and it seemed from the outside that it was quite the festivity. All the servants, in their traditional garb, were walking about with trays of finger food and glasses of the finest brand of Potenzan wine. Everything had been dusted and made presentable, and even all the rugs were freshly cleaned. It was made presentable not only for the celebration of the coronation, but for the coming of a new grand duke.

There was perhaps only one unhappy party there - the ousted Visconti. Well, only ousted in the sense that they no longer sat in the position of Grand Duke. A century and a half worth of history had been changed, and now a Torriani ruled as Grand Duke, and a Torriani had returned to rule in San Salvo. Whether or not the newly coronated "Guido III" would take the Duchy of San Salvo as well as Venosa, or he would just transfer the Visconti back to their historical Venosa, had yet to be seen. The Visconti house themselves were a mixed bunch of moods. Countess Giovanna said nothing, but remained with the new Grand Duke's younger brother, looking sullen and sad. Count Drago, who only a week before had been the heir, seemed annoyed by all the formalities, and it appeared that he was growing more and more disconcerted with the affairs of court. His younger brother Angiolo seemed concerned over nothing, and was smiling and chatting with some of the male servants over the women in the other houses (as well as a few of the female servants). Eldizio's younger brother Claudio and Constantino kept to themselves, smiling and making small talk with some of the other nobles. Aldone, the former grand duke's wife, was her usual self as the role of mother - a title when the Chamber of Ministers most certainly could not remove from her - was trying to ease her children, attend to her husband, and put on a good appearance before the other women in the other houses.

Eldizio himself was solemn and quiet. He showed no contempt towards the new Torriani grand duke, nor did he show any great sense of sadness. He did occasionally look longingly at the surroundings as he walked through the halls and rooms, knowing that after this night it would no longer be his abode. Right now the nation apparently disliked him enough to compel their politicians to remove him from his position. What would history end up saying of him? Would he be seen as one of the worst grand dukes? Would he be seen as ahead of his time? Would he be seen as misunderstood? Would he be seen as a victim? Who knew at this point. All he could concern himself with was the present.

A familiar voice caught his eye, and Eldizio turned and saw the back of Count Niccolo di Grimaldi. Ah, the famous Count of Turin...how long had Eldizio trusted him in so many things, and at one squabble the adviser had turned assailant. The former grand duke walked over and tapped the shoulder of the count, saying in a quiet voice, "Count Niccolo - a word with you?"

Niccolo turned to his conversation mate and nodded a brief farewell, walking off with Eldizio at a slow pace, twirling a cognac bottle in his other hand, "Yes, Duke Eldizio? What do you wish to speak to me?"

Duke - such a humbled title, one that Eldizio would have to get used to. "Count Niccolo," he began, "I am of some notion that these recent political machinations were partially your doing. I know you were advising the prime minister as well as myself. I also know you had grown acquainted with Duke Guido - perhaps a fault on my part. However, I want you to know I bid you no ill will. I want us to leave tonight as being at least friends, if we are not to be political allies."

"That sounds right and proper to me as well," said Niccolo, smiling a little.

"But I want to wish you a warning," Eldizio added, then, glancing about to make certain no one else was close by, then said in a lower voice, "a warning about your new friend - a friend with a bad leg. Are you familiar with a story written by the Aren playwright Shakespeare? A story also about a monarch with a bad leg?"

"Oh yes," Niccolo said, sipping the cognac, "Richard III I believe. One of my favorites."

Eldizio nodded, "Do you recall the character of Buckingham? A very well meaning noble, looking out for his country, and willing to do some evil to assist Richard III in his rise. However, Buckingham was not the man Richard was. At some point, their relationship came to a halt. Richard desired him to commit greater and greater evils, and he could not. When this happened, the king turned against the man who had formerly helped his rise, and both came to an untimely end."

The Grimaldi count stared at Eldizio, permitting him to finish the story, even as the pause settled in their corner. After that pause, Eldizio continued:

"This is my warning to you, Count Niccolo...be wary, lest you end up like Buckingham with your Richard."

With that, the Visconti turned and walked off. Niccolo stared quietly as he did, and couldn't help but notice the change that had overcome him. The duke was saddened now - feeling hurt by the people, his family, and men he had considered his friends - and his walk was with slower steps and lower shoulders. His tone with the count had been one of a father, tinged with experience and softened with love. The Grimaldi looked off towards a blank part of the wall, thinking. He then said quietly:

"Princes have but their tides for their glories, an outward honour for an inward toil; and, for unfelt imagination, they often feel a world of restless cares: so that, betwixt their tides and low names, there's nothing differs but the outward fame..."*

Meanwhile, the newly installed Grand Duke was enjoying some time alone on the great balcony, overlooking the wide open lawn of the palace, with the lights of San Salvo shooting up into the dark sky nearby. Leaning on his cane with one hand and gripping the hilt of Alexandria, the ceremonial sword with the other, he looked out and pondered the past few days' events. Everything seemed to have gone so well. Everything had worked out perfectly. As Niccolo had said, fortune had favored them, and they had come out triumphant.

"Beautiful," murmured the Countess Francesca, standing nearby as Guido's only company on the balcony.

"It is," Guido replied, "and now, it is all mine. Did you ever think, blessed sister, that your brother would do it? Did you even imagine that it was possible? That I should wrest the sword of Alexandria from the grips of a Visconti, and bring the House of della Torre back to San Salvo? A century's worth of injustice is undone, in a single day. Francis I may have won with armies, but I? I ironically won with the very democratic institution he helped install."

"Never did I doubt," said Francesca, "but now there remains what you do with your power." She walked behind Guido, lifting up her soft fingers and placing them on one of his shoulders. As she continued to walk, she slid those fingers gracefully across his back, moving in a low arch, ending at the next. "Eldizio could not survive...can you?"

"I will," Guido said, patting the hilt of Alexandria, "I shall, and I shall do greater things than Eldizio ever hoped for. The Grand Duchy was a crown Eldizio cast into the gutter. The people have given me the crown, and I intend to replenish its former glory."

"A pity we Potenzans do not use crowns." Guido felt his sister's fingers run into his hair from behind, messing it up just a bit, then suddenly putting it all back in place, as if she were a stylist. "Although it might look awkward on you, brother."

Guido turned and smirked at her, "The Danes have far better crowns. Perhaps you should rush over there and see if they will give you one?"

Francesca pursed her lips, recognizing the jab. Guido continued smirking at her before leaving the balcony to return to the social.

-----------
* Richard III, Act I Scene IV

 

[Potenza]

San Salvo International Airport
Grand Duchy of Potenza

A section of the grounds around the airport had been sectioned off to receive a special plane that was expected to arrive soon enough. It was not far from the runway, near one of the furthest gates, and with easy access in and out. A route had been sectioned off by the Carabinieri, who were in full garb with their capes and swords. Most of them were thankful that the weather had begun to cool down, so that they wouldn't be sweating under the uniform and cloak combination. Most them had freshly shined their boots and the brims of their hands, and wore the cleanest white gloves over their hands. The only ones not wearing capes were the motorcycle riders, keeping an eye on the entryways and guarding a single black limo at the designated location.

The hullabaloo was over the visit of the Danish Prince Christian, who had been invited to Potenza to help solidify the ties between the Kingdom and Grand Duchy. This had been the brain child of Grand Duke Guido III, albeit with ulterior motives. He knew that his sister, Francesca, had remained somewhat fascinated with the prince since they had their brief encounter at the Havenshire princess' ball. If the two of them settled down, it would not only help relations, but would help put a leash on his sister's more amorous antics. Then again, she probably wouldn't mind a leash on her. In either case, she was presently at the palace, waiting for the two of them.

The Grand Duke was there himself, standing beside his limo flanked by Carabinieri lieutenants. He was in the usual blue uniform of the Torriani House, bearing the emblem of the grand duke's office on the sash that went diagonal across his torso. At his side was the sword Alexandria - the closest thing Potenza had to a crown.

"How soon?" Guido asked one of the nearby lieutenants.

The lieutenant nodded and waved to one of his men at a motorcycle. The man picked up a microphone and spoke into it, talking with an airport official. He held up some fingers to the lieutenant, who turned to the grand duke and said, "Not long - a few minutes, your majesty."

Sure enough, a plane appeared on the horizon. The sound of its propellers grew as it lowered itself to the airport, and landed on the runway. It came to a gradual stop, then turned and was guided by airport personnel off to the side, where the grand duke awaited. Guido himself stood stoically, his arms outstretched with his hands gripping the head of his cane. The plane turned so that the door faced the limo, and at once a stairway was brought to it. One of the lieutenants gave a shout and a line of Carabinieri marched forward, led by their sergeant. They formed a line that went from the plane to the limo, and as soon as the door opened the sergeant cried out:

"Carabinieri...OCCHI DESTRA!"

The policemen snapped into attention turned their heads towards the doorway, to their right. Out came Prince Christian himself.

"SALUTO!"

The Carabinieri snapped into a smart salute. Christian was led down the steps, and as he made his way to Guido, each Carabinieri turned to face him as he walked by. Once he had passed by they dropped their salute and faced forward.

"Welcome to Potenza, Your Royal Highness," Guido said in his best English, smiling and holding out a hand to Christian, "I hope your flight was well. As you can probably tell, my rank has increased just a little since last we met."

A Carabinieri lieutenant opened a door for the two men and saluted. Guido permitted Christian to enter first, then came in himself. The lieutenant shut the door and motioned for the motorcycle convoy to begin. At once, sirens were sounded, and the lead riders began to block traffic so that nothing stood in the limo's way. The vehicle took off within a few seconds, surrounded by several dozen Carabinieri motorcycles - as Grand Duke, Guido didn't take security as lightly as Eldizio had. The destination of the two men was now the grand duke's palace.

"It shouldn't take us any more than fifteen minutes," Guido explained to Christian, as the grand duke adjusted his shirt cuffs, "give or take traffic, of course."

 

[Potenza]

In the city of Turin, there was found a young girl. She was found a crying infant and a discarded orphan - whether the product of an unplanned pregnancy of some hussy or the victim of a mother's otherwise unfortunate circumstances, no one was aware. She simply showed up one day at a convent in the city, with no name attached to her. She was moved quickly to the old orphanage, the one which Saint Lucia herself had supposedly rescued during the great fire of 1255, and there the orphan spent much of her early life. The original name given to her was Zita, which means "little girl," but as she grew older, it took a while for her hair to grow, and it wasn't until she was five-years old that she had a fair amount of black strands to warm her scalp with. Due to this delay, the matrons dubbed her Calvina, which means "little bald one." While the baldness subsided, the little aspect remained, and even at the age of sixteen she was perhaps the smallest of the girls at the orphanage. By this time, no one had shown any interest in picking her up or making use of her. She was too small for those of noble patronages, and too scrawny for those of common patronages.

At this age of sixteen, it was tradition for orphans who had yet to be adopted to decide how their future will turn out. In Turin, many of the male orphans entered the Scipio's Own Division, or pursued a career in the mafia families. For women, it was often turning to being maids or servants of higher class families - if they were accepted, of course. If this was not the case, it was likewise to the mafia with them...as prostitutes. This seemed to the route that Calvina was going, and yet even there, no one desired her, for she had done many of the odd jobs around the orphanage, and was often seen in a state of uncleanliness, with ruffled hair, dirty clothes, and soiled knuckles. It seemed that her destiny was either to remain at the orphanage, or to be sent on the street with no future but guttersnipe.

That was when it was revealed that a groundskeeper was needed for a part of the Grimaldi family estate. Most people in the Grand Duchy would have leaped to the opportunity to become a servant for one of the five royal houses, as they tended to take care of their people well, and it was a lovely addition to one's resume. However, this job entailed working far from the Grimaldi palace, and at the tomb of the royal family. Few people desired it because of superstitions concerning the dead, and because of the hard work behind it: one would have to tear the weeds from every nook and corner, clean the statues and monuments for the deceased dukes and counts who had passed on, so that not a single blemish was left. The pay and living conditions were also abysmal - just enough for a person in the more rural parts of the Duchy of Turin to survive, and a simple cottage near the tomb, a cottage which you were also expected to refurnish in your own time. Despite all this, Calvina had little else to look forward to in her life, and decided if the living would have nothing to do with her, then surely the dead would enjoy her company.

She had worked there for two years now, and had made the tomb look like a museum through her effort. She soon knew every feature of the statues, every particular of the monuments, who was buried there and where. Weeds and vines grew there no more under her watch, and the grass about the building was well kept, so that one could have assumed that a team of groundskeepers took care of the location weekly. The cottage was given similar treatment, and no longer did Calvina go home fearing the spiders on the ceiling or the silverfish in the walls as she had when she first arrived. The conditions were simple: a cooking stove, a bed, a small dining table...and this was it. Yet despite all this, she was happy and content.

It was rare for anyone to visit the tomb. There were special occasions where events were held at the tomb, but Calvina had been told that she was expected to be far away on those days, and if people drew near she tended to run and hide. So it was on this particular day, when Calvina worked on the grass outside the building, and saw two men on horses approaching. Darting away on her bare feet, she disappeared about the other end of the tomb. When she glanced around, she had a better view of the men, and saw that one of them was none other than Count Stefano di Grimaldi himself.

Stefano was of good height, lean build, with fairly broad shoulders and a slim waist. He was wearing the green uniform of the Grimaldi family, with the badge showcasing his status as count and the seal of the Grimaldi house beside it. His hair was cut short, and on his face one could easily see the descendant features from his father. Yet while Duke Silvestro had been marred by years of lechery, lewdness, and sin, Count Niccolo di Grimaldi had made certain that Stefano was raised under a more careful guidance, so that on the young man was a look of far more regal nobility and intelligence. Calvina studied him quietly, having never been so close to one of the Grimaldi family, though she had, since a little girl, sometimes seen them from afar at special events. The girl had to admit to herself that he was an attractive young man, and seemed much more approachable than his father.

The other man, in clothes that looked more old fashioned but not quite as exquisite as Stefano's, was the count's personal attendant, Giovanni. He was younger than Stefano, though not by too many years, and had longer and more light-colored hair. The two were good friends, and had arrived at the tomb on a whim while out riding their chestnut horses. Calvina remained in hiding, watching them as they entered through the front door and, as she saw through the only window, into the middle of the large tomb.

"Look at this, Giovanni," Stefano began, crossing his arms as he looked about the room, stopping every now and then to study a statue here or a monument there, "when I was younger, my Uncle Nico took me here, along with Teodoro and Sergio, and he showed me one of these empty slabs at the end here, and he said, 'This is what's waiting for you, Stefano.'"

"Comforting thought!" Giovanni remarked.

Stefano laughed, "Think about that. No matter how well I rule, or how poorly, I'll end up here with every other Grimaldi duke that's ever served."

It was then, to Calvina's absolute surprise, that this count - this Potenzan noble and his attendant - began to sing. Stefano began an old song, known only among the Grimaldi nobility, that looked back on their history with praise and satire. Calvina watched with wide dark eyes, never knowing that a count would dare due such a thing, let alone with a servant. The song which he sang went like this:

Stefano
Good dukes, bad dukes
sane dukes, or mad dukes
Benevolent or nefarious
Here is where they bury us

Oh ho ho, what a comforting thing to know!
There's a prearranged spot
In the family plot
Where my royal bones will go
Yes I'll be slipped
Into the beautiful crypt
Oh ho ho, what a comforting thing to know!

That drunkard, young Fernando
He reigned for half an hour
He got so drunk when they crowned him
He fell from the castle tower!

And here lies Duke Frederico
He stole for forty years
The day he died, all Turin cried...
They cried three cheers!

Oh ho hee! What a comforting thing to see!
The traditional stone
That is all my own
Where my dying date will be

Giovanni
In peace you'll rest
Beneath the beautiful family crest!

Both
Oh ho hee, what a comforting thing to see!

Giovanni
And here lies brave Duke Marco

Stefano
Oh the battles that he won!
He lies in state,
Serene and great
Still getting nothing done

Giovanni
What about Duke Pietro?

Stefano
Duke Pietro was lewd and lecherous
Evil, cruel and treacherous
Duke Pietro was mad and dreaded...
'Til the day he was beheaded!

Both
Oh ho ho! What a comforting thing to know!
Oh ho ho! What a comforting thing to know!

Stefano
But remember good Duke Filio
Saintly, kind and wise
He did nothing ignominious
Yet beside these noble brutes and knaves and drunks and skunks he lies!

Both
Oh ho ho! What a comforting thing to know!
There's a prearranged spot
On the family plot
Where your royal bones will go!
Yes I'll be slipped
Into the beautiful family crypt!
Oh ho hee what a comforting thing for you to see!
Oh ho ho! What a comforting thing to know!

It was then, at the close of this song, that Stefano happened to turn in the direction of where Calvina was looking. Quickly the little woman ran, scurrying away from the building as quickly as she could.

"What was that?" Stefano asked.

"What was what, good sir?"

Stefano went to the window, peeking out, "I thought I had seen a girl." By the time he reached the window, Calvina had departed around the building, away from the window's view, and was darting down the hill, at full speed to her cottage.

"I didn't see anything."

Stefano turned and smirked, shrugging to himself as he remarked, "Pity. She had a nice country look about her. I quite admire a girl from God's green earth."

 

[Danmark]

Aeroporte Internazionale d' San Salvo

The full state aplomb had been emblazoned for the arrival of His Royal Highness the Prince Christian of Danmark, Duke of Aabenraa, upon his descent into what was termed in Danish circles and titling as simply 'Storhertugdømmet', 'The Grand Duchy',,afterall, there were none other.

The full emblazon and state decorousness was in evidence for the third in line to the Throne of Vermiliion, the Crown of the Diaspora of the travailling vikings and home-searchers. If this was a welcome to Hans Kongelige Højhed whatever was to welcome his elder brother the King Frederik III and I? This was essentially a state visit judged by what was laid before him, His brother must surely expect an even grander welcoming.

Dressed in the full sky-blue dressage of a senior officer of the Royal Danish Airforce, with dangling golden braids, medals signifying his status from operations in Partherrighet, together with the Order of the Elephant, the Order of the Dannebrog and the Order of Dansk Implarien, crossed from left to right by the red sash of the kingdom, and topped with a cap with an erect white cockade, the prince stepped onto the darkened tarmacadam.

Pleasurably greeted by Potenzan dignatories who seemed most pleased, even fawning, to see a representative of the Danish Crown visit the Grand Duchy in what seemed like an eon, the Prince processed through the ranks of assembled ceremonial guards without turning a head, aside from the nod of recognition and a brief smile as he turned the ranks towards the chief officer. Led by the Potenzan Colonel in Chief, Prince Christian cut a dashing figure in contrasting colours to those of that he processed through.

An agenda of statecraft between the Potenzan and Danish states, with some leaden involvement of the Palace, the visit was designed as a deputisation in lieu of a formal Visit of State of the King-Emperor. In essence HKH The Prince was the King in essence and charged with a responsiblilty. But he was charged and girded to this task.

Behind all the fanfares and grandiosity, The Prince Christian wondered when he he would rediscover his love, Francesca.

He heard she had gotten around a little but he sincerely wondered whether this was genuine or a consequence of rebounding for a potentially dashed love. One thing was for sure, Prince Christian loved Francesca. Even the thought of this sultry tempress was enough to garner a heave within the royal prince's immaculate lower decor.

For State and Crown the Prince represented with all that with expected finesse, but the long for escape to closeted environs and to be with his love, the exquisite, the delectable, the soft, the majesterial, the snobbish, the erudite Francesca, was above all.

 

[Potenza]

The two noblemen soon arrived at the Grand Duke's palace, positioned south of San Salvo. Surrounded by an iron fence and patrolled on the outside by Carabinieri and on the inside by the grand duke's personal scorta, the palace featured a wide, long green field with a cobblestone pathway leading from the front gate to the front door, with a lovely - and large - fountain in the middle, where the path turned into a circle. The palace itself was an exquisite, square building, with a lovely outside that showed it had been well preserved despite its age. It had been the home of the Torriani dukes before the time of unification, when the Visconti took it and kicked the Torriani out to the Duchy of Venosa. With Guido III as Grand Duke, the Visconti were back in Venosa and the Torriani felt like, for the first time in more than a hundred years, they were back home.

A scorta came up to the car as it came to a stop before the front, opening the side door and snapping into a salute. Guido came out first (the uniformed man knowing better than to assist him in his handicap) followed by Prince Christian, whom Guido led up the steps.

"Your accommodations have been arranged," the grand duke explained to the Danic nobleman, "I hope you will find them most pleasant."

The inside of the palace was as exquisite as Prince Christian no doubt expected it, with the wealth of the past several hundred years of the Duchy of San Salvo pressed into several rooms. Men and women in the expected uniforms of butlers and maids greeted the two men, bowing before them as they moved down to the lounge where the grand duke often visited guests. Guido motioned for Prince Christian to take a seat, then sat down himself in a plush chair that rested under a large statue of Athena - the same one that he had formerly sat under in the Torriani palace when he desired to consider the future of himself and indeed the entire nation.

"Is the Grand Duchy similar to how you remember it from your last visit?" Guido asked.

Suddenly a pale-skinned woman with a thin, petite build and large, dark eyes entered timidly, glancing nervously at Prince Christian before turning to the Grand Duke and saying in a small voice, audible enough to not be a whisper:

"Her Royal Highness will be here shortly, your majesty...she apologizes, but she is delayed in preparing herself..."

"That sounds like my sister," Guido said, smirking a little at the woman, "thank you, Gisella...tell her she may make herself look as presentable as she desires."

The woman departed, and the grand duke turned to the Danic prince:

"My sister's personal attendant - a bit like a man-at-arms, like many nobles in Potenza have." He crossed his good leg over his bad, resting his hands on the handle of his cane, which was rested before him. "Tell me, my good prince, how are the affairs of the Kingdom of Danmark these days?"

 

[Potenza]

The grand duke's estate in San Salvo was no small building by any means, and one who was a first-time visitor could easily have gotten lost. Nonetheless, Count Niccolo di Grimaldi knew exactly where he needed to go, and knew exactly where he would find Grand Duke Guido III, the most powerful man in the Grand Duchy. It was on the eastern side of the palace, in the study, right under the large statue of the goddess Athena. Sure enough, there he was...the young monarch, wearing the fine uniform of the Torriani House, his hands on his cane and his good leg crossed over his bad one. His dark eyes were facing the ground, clearly lost in thought. The entrance of the Count of Turin did nothing to break the Grand Duke's concentration, although he knew that the man had entered.

"You're finally here," he said simply.

Niccolo nodded quietly, stepping over with his hands behind his back, eyeing the Athena statue a moment, appreciating the detail as he waited for his monarch to speak first.

"No doubt you've been thinking on the way here," he finally said, equally as simply.

"Yes," Niccolo said, nodding quietly as he gazed off to a window, "our little dilemma."

"Our little martyr," the Grand Duke corrected. Guido placed his good foot on the ground, lifting up his cane and letting it rest on his lap, the handle draping near the top of his head as he continued with, "It's funny...when I helped his elections, I kept a distance from him. A safe distance. Now I remember why I did." A soft bit of laughter left his lips - laughter that seemed almost sadistic to Niccolo's ears - and the Grand Duke added, "Daft clever of the past me, isn't it?"

The man they were speaking of was Prime Minister Gaetano Merlino. He was a hothead and, while he had done many great things, was starting to get out of hand. His foreign minister was a yes man who was ticking off various world powers and not being as diplomatic as his job required it (an ironic factor that was). What's more, Niccolo had sent a message to the Grand Duke alerting him to the fact that [MENTION=649]Sikandara[/MENTION], if they would renew relations, would demand Merlino's head. Niccolo knew it would be a problem, of course - that bulldozing of the embassy had been an incredibly stupid move, and something he would never have supported had someone asked him for his opinion. Now the opposition party was calling for Merlino to resign, and some of the braver members of the Chamber of Ministers were asking for the Grand Duke to resign as well. If they had their way and the voices grow stronger, it was a possibility that they would try to put Eldizio I back on the throne.

"Do you recall that faithful day," Guido began again, "when we were in a room together, and all three made a pledge to obtain power? Who would know that one day two of those three would be conspiring against the other?"

Niccolo nodded, although a fleeting thought had entered his mind that made him quite uncomfortable. He thought back to what Eldizio di Visconti had told him, after he was forced to resign and Guido had received his coronation - when the dethroned grand duke had warned him of Shakespeare's Richard III, and the hint that Guido was Gloucester and Niccolo was Buckingham. Would it be that one day, just as the two men were conspiring now against Merlino, that Guido would be conspiring against Niccolo, once the count no longer served a purpose? A silly, conspiratorial thought, and Niccolo quickly brushed it aside.

"I do recall that," Niccolo said, turning his gaze back to the Athena statue, not looking at the Grand Duke, "but political necessity often demands action that wasn't foreseen. Merlino is digging himself a grave. He may accuse us of backstabbing, but it's him who gave us the knife."

Guido nodded, "You're always so eloquent, Niccolo. You put it in ways I could never imagine. Tell me, do you think Merlino will survive?"

"He might," Niccolo replied, "he's survived worse before. All the same, we should have a contingency plan. He's our key to the National Alliance, and if they fall, we lose the real support in the Chamber of Ministers."

Guido nodded, "You've had the same fears as I, I suppose...the return of that Visconti dinosaur?"

"Precisely. And that will be far worse for the country. We need the National Alliance in the Chamber, but we may have to let go of Merlino. Especially if it turns out that most of Europe wants him dead."

"Our little martyr," Guido repeated, "what do you suggest then? I suppose you will turn the National Alliance against him?"

Niccolo smiled. In contrast to his brother, it was so nice to speak to a ducal authority who wasn't a complete idiot.

"Precisely, your majesty. We push him out and replace him with someone who will better serve our needs."

"You'll have to find one," said Guido, turning to gaze at Niccolo and waving a finger, "I'll trust in your judgment. You're the Lord Speaker - you'll have the most connections at the Chamber of Ministers, being the representative of the Chamber of Nobles."

The Grimaldi count nodded, "Thank you for your trust. We'll make certain the Grand Duchy doesn't lose the steam it's built up."

"Good, good," Guido said, "I don't need these elected officials destroying what I've done."