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| Ducal Machinations | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 5 2015, 11:06 PM (42 Views) | |
| Ausonia | Jun 5 2015, 11:06 PM Post #1 |
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The stadium was filled to overflowing, and security was working overtime to prevent determined fans from climbing the fences into restricted areas when they were turned away at the gates. A sea of red and white covered three quarters of the packed seats, as the home team, Citta Reale, made yet another attempt to punch into the defenders’ lines. Squadra Ducale had so far held firm, to no one’s surprise. Having a much larger population to draw from, Tirrenia’s premiere club easily dominated the unfortunate squad offered up by the city-state of Enotria. It was virtually impossible to lay a bet on any match contested by Citta Reale, to be honest; no bookkeeper would touch them. Strangely, this only made the club more popular at home—the constant underdog, always playing in the hopes of a miracle—while abroad they were seen with fond amusement. Still, even that would not entirely explain the excitement in the stadium this time around. It was better explained by the presence of two of Ausonia’s most prominent men. King Mario Abrami di Castro leaned forward in excitement, his clenched fists almost vibrating on the table in front of him, as he watched his team once again advance into danger, and once again come up wanting; the grin on his face was hardly lessened by the club’s poor performance. Next to him, Duke Giancarlo Emanuele da Catania was bored out of his mind. When his eyes fell on the action on the pitch below, they almost immediately glazed over. More often than not, though, they were held firmly on his royal colleague, the king of Enotria, whose little state’s independence was due more to the leniency of its allies than its own valor. Tirrenia was one such ally, indeed the most immediate of them, and Emanuele’s presence in Enotria was meant to symbolize that support in a visible way. But the king’s passion for the beautiful game was hardly matched by the duke’s complete incomprehension, and had the spectators bothered to look away from the game going on in front of them and pay more attention to the prime boxes, they would have seen the true protector of their nation fighting sleep, in those moments when he was not glaring at their king for dragging him to such a pointless exercise in appeasing the masses. Abrami was too focused on the pitch below to pay attention to his exalted guest. “Look at that!” he cried as the ball sailed well to the right of the Squada’s goal and out of bounds. Turning briefly to his guest, the king said, “I don’t think I’ve seen our team play this well before. That new manager—whatever his name is, I think someone told me when he was hired—I really think he’s the one that’ll lead Citta Reale to greatness!” “Quite,” Emanuele replied, his voice absolutely dry. “But about the Senato meeting…” Abrami interrupted with a shout, echoed by the roar of the crowd outside the VIP box. “What a shot! And Crespo nearly saved it, too! I tell you, that boy is pure gold. He’ll be keeping for Nemacia soon if we’re not careful.” He turned to his guest excitedly. “Did you see that?” The king’s grin faded slightly at the unimpressed expression on Emanuele’s face. “About the Senato meeting,” the duke began again, “I would like to be sure that you’re aware of the agenda, and your part in it.” Abrami shook his head. “Business? In the middle of a game? Giancarlo, you can’t be serious!” “You knew the result of this match before you even woke up this morning,” Emanuele bit out. “I, for one, didn’t come here to observe a foregone conclusion. You can spare me this much, Mario.” The king scowled lightly, but with one last wistful glance at the pitch below, he finally turned his full attention to his guest. “What is it, then?” he grumbled. Emanuele forced himself not to strangle the other man. Doing so in public would not have been conducive to Tirrenian-Enotrian relations, nor would it have boosted Emanuele’s popularity in Terrenia. Not that his reelection as Tirrenia’s representative depended on something as vulgar as popularity, of course, but it wouldn’t do to be so obvious about the power he wielded over the rest of Tirrenia’s nobility regardless of constitutional restrictions. “I will be submitting my diplomatic schedule to the Senato during next week’s meeting,” he reminded Abrami. “As we’ve discussed before, it will include at least one intended meeting with the Zaliviyan government. I want to make absolutely sure that you will back me when the rest of the… senatores,” he sneered, “start asking questions about it.” Abrami scoffed. “So you’re going through with it, finally?” he asked. “You’ve been plotting this for so long, I wasn’t sure if you would take it to your grave.” “I was waiting for an appropriate time,” the duke replied, “and it has just come upon us.” When the Enotrian king raised his brow, Emanuele scowled in frustration. “Dunois, Mario, Dunois! Can’t you see? Izalith is as much of a guarantor of the status quo as Valkany is, or Nemacia or Zaliviya, for that matter. Old Dunois was just waiting to pounce on any possible dissention in Victorium’s ranks. But now he’s dead, and all of his children will have more pressing matters to worry about—namely each other. Izalith will be well and truly distracted for the foreseeable future. That gives us a window of opportunity that we simply cannot pass up.” “And instead of attacking Izalith, you want to use that ‘window of opportunity’ to put pressure on a nation our allies consider a friend?” Abrami clarified doubtfully. Emanuele frowned deeply. “Ausonia is in no position to be ‘attacking’ anyone,” he said firmly. “Nemacia will not bail us out of any folly, and I can think of no other description for an attack against a superpower. All of our efforts must be confined to the diplomatic theater… and without some great sacrifice on our part, we can be sure that Izalith is not about to give up land it has held for a century based on a simple request from us. All of which imagines that we could negotiate with Izalith without worrying that we might be negotiating with the wrong contender for the throne, whose defeat will mean that we will have to start negotiations over again with someone who will already view us with suspicion for treating with their rival.” “Nonetheless,” Abrami insisted, “I do not believe that making an enemy where we do not already have one is a wise decision. The Valkanians are friends to both Zaliviya and to Nemacia-Sarviznia. We should not be alienating ourselves from our allies and…” The king glanced around to make sure that he was unheard. “Our allies and our overlords,” he murmured. “Don’t worry about Nemacia,” Emanuele said dismissively. “Neumarkt might be an ally to the Valkanians now, but in any conflict of interest between Valkany and ourselves, we shall get the nod. Zaliviya is, obviously, a different matter.” The duke’s expression hardened. “That is the reason I intend to negotiate with them, after all.” The king of Enotria remained silent for a long moment, turning his attention back to the football pitch below. Heedless of the action (for once), and of the crowd’s cheers and groans, Abrami finally asked, “Is all of this for Ausonia’s benefit, or for Emanuele da Catania’s?” “It is for both!” snapped Emanuele, albeit quietly. “Recovering my family’s holdings will only strengthen Tirrenia and Ausonia as a whole! You wouldn’t know how difficult it is to retain political power as a noble without his lands, Mario; let me tell you, it’s no fun at all! How much more could I do at the head of our confederation if I held the territories I was entitled to? How much stronger would our position be against Izalith if our foremost representative had the strong backing of his legacy and his productive lands, as well as his few and dwindling followers?” The duke’s eyes narrowed as he noticed Abrami suppress a scoff. “I’m serious, Mario! This will mean a stronger and more desirable future for Ausonia—you’ll see! And so will the Senato… as long as I still have your support.” Emanuele eyed Abrami pointedly. Abrami gave the duke a skeptical glance, but eventually he sighed and nodded, just as Emanuele had known he would do. “You know I could never refuse you,” the king said in a tone filled with friendly exasperation. “Of course you couldn’t,” answered Emanuele with a smile. Unlike his host, he didn’t try to mask Enotria’s political impotence through banter. “Good, are you two done now?” demanded a voice on Abrami’s other side. The two politicians looked over in surprise to see their wives glaring at them. The Duchess of Tirrenia snorted at the dumbfounded look on her husband’s face before turning back to her companion. “I think they’re finished. Maybe Giancarlo will let us watch the match in peace now.” “Good,” Abrami’s wife replied. “I think we’re finally seeing a turning point here, and I’d hate to have it be interrupted by politics.” “Turning point?” demanded Abrami, immediately focusing back on the pitch below. “What’s happening?” Emanuele groaned and put his head in his hands. |
![]() Duke Giancarlo Emanuele da Catania President of the Senato | |
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7:56 AM Jul 11