The Epic [Closed] [Latica]

[Greater Latica]

August 1785- Midday

Prince Maximillian revelled in the excellent August summer sun, as he was taken through the streets of Vienna, part of his spectacular coronation procession. Austrian soldiers lined the route, and Austrian cavalry formed a large part of the procession column.

Maximillian was thoroughly enjoying himself, all of the late night practises were beginning to bear fruit. The only bugbear he'd had was that Hans wouldn't let him ride his own horse to the ceremony. Hans had been worried that the crowd wouldn't be able to clearly make him out clearly amongst the assorted cavalry. Maximillian was certain that had been a subtle comment about his height, but he was determined not to let it ruin his day. Every eye west of the Dnieper river was centred on him.

Princes, Princesses and assorted Royals from around Europe had arrived to view the ceremony, the Russians had sent a relatively large delegation, but Galicia, Bavaria, Prussia and even Great Britain had sent representatives.

The Route passed a short way along the Danube River, a longer circular route had been chosen to allow more of the people to see. Maximillian had seen St Stephen's Cathedral possibly thousands of times, but the building always impressed him, the colossal gothic architecture towered over the city and the famous coloured roof, marked with the massive Habsburg eagle was awe inspiring. It was Maximillian's choice, selecting it over St. Vitus Cathedral in Bohemia, where previous Austrian Coronations were held. Maximillian had reasoned that he was the new ruler of a new state with a new title, and that deserved a new ceremony in a new location. Faced with that argument Hans had relented.

Maximillian had continued waving right up until it was time to step down from the Carriage and into the Cathedral for the service. He paused momentarily at the threshold, as reality hit him like a cannon ball. He would enter as but a young Prince, and exit as an Emperor with all the expectations and responsibilities associated with the role. He looked into the doorway and saw Hans beckoning him forward, trying to conceal the look of concern on his face about the Prince's sudden pause.

Maximillian refocused, briefly turning and giving one last wave to the assembled masses. Hans strode forwards, and whispered something in his ear, quickly, before the Archbishop shooed him away.
"Try not to let this go to your head, or I'll have to deflate it with a knitting needle".
Maximillian smiled at the advisor's comment, he always loved Hans' sense of humour.

He walked down the centre of the Cathedral, the assorted guests watching him, most of them must have been three or four times his own age! He followed the Church party towards the ornate throne at the far end. As he sat down upon the ceremonial throne, the Ceremony began.

Taking deep breaths, he progressed through the service, taking the oath exactly as rehearsed, and the anointment and blessing went without hitch. Everything went like clockwork, making him glad he'd insisted on the extra practises.

Eventually it came time for the it to end, and Maximillian gracefully exited the Cathedral, and climbed back aboard the Carriage to return to the Imperial palace, for the intended private celebration afterwards. An opportunity for Maximillian to wind down after the day's nerve fraying experiences.

[Il Magnifico]

August 1785 – Venice, The Most Serene Republic

Months had passed since the second attempt on the Palazzo. In that time Olivero and Gianni agreed to keep their suspicions about their fellow conspirators quiet, at least until such a point that they could lure out the traitor amongst their ranks. That was where Cardinal Jacques came in. For the last few weeks he had been keeping a regular correspondence with Olivero, giving him advice on how to make the others feel as if nothing had changed with their plan, but also advising him on how to set traps that might lead them to catch the their troublesome double-crosser.

One of those traps had been successful, although Olivero knew the evidence deduced from it alone, wouldn't be enough on its own to prove the suspect guilty; still it could certainly point them in the right direction.

Two days prior, Olivero had had large purses containing hundreds of Lira delivered to his fellow conspirators, along with a note allegedly from ‘Signore Loreti’, giving gratitude for services rendered in support of the Republic, also containing instructions to immediately destroy the note for sake of authenticity. The Marquis and Augusto had both reported the suspicious payments to Olivero, Augusto with surprising haste, however Cassio de Castinous had not. Olivero, as a rational man, might forgive Cassio had he had a legitimate reason for delay. However Gianni’s spies reported that Cassio was continuing with his usual schedule of relaxation and pleasure at the various hotels and brothels that he tended to frequent, meaning he would have had plenty of time to contact Olivero or even one of the other conspirators regarding the money, had its delivery surprised him.

The problem with this particular trap, was that it didn’t factor in human greed. Cassio might well have decided to remain silent out of a desire to keep the money, but Olivero couldn’t help but begin to feel a sense of suspicion towards Cassio, who had been a member of the group before Gianni and Morlaix, and who had known Il Signore much more personally than Olivero had.

September 1785 – Venice, The Most Serene Republic

Captain Monti was getting quite excitable. Silvio’s lead had paid off. Monti had recognised two of the bodies he had seen back in May and knew full well that they weren’t deserting loyalists. Both of them were men he had drunk with before who were, as most of the army were, completely ambivalent about Venice’s government.

There was a conspiracy afoot, and Alvise Loreti appeared to be at the heart of it. For it seemed he had hidden all record of whatever had actually happened on the night that those men died in April. The fact that General Rosso’s men were up to something at the palace and that General Rosso was the ‘official name’ behind the closure of the Arsenale made Captain Monti’s course of action tricky. He couldn’t simply request a chance to go and question the General, because that would send him out of Venetia and his superiors wouldn’t grant him the freedom. Nor could he have the General summoned to the city because of his superior rank.

Instead Monti had decided to try and take the matter over the General’s head, without alerting the Loretis, difficult in a country they practically ran, but not impossible. Admiral Vincenzo, the Commander-in-Chief, was between stations and was about as politically neutral as an officer of substantial rank could be in Venice.

The Admiral was however about to leave and Monti had spent too long shuffling papers and planning, he needed to catch him before he departed for Corfu.

“Admiral Vincenzo!” Monti shouted down the jetty as the Admiral was clambering in to the large galley. Monti, like most of Venetia, recognised it to be The Resolute. A ship that Vincenzo had had customised with what money he could get the Council to spare the navy, so it was identifiable as the flagship of the fleet, which consisted of 32 other almost identical galleys.

“What on earth…” Vincenzo said turning to face the young officer who seemed out of breath.

“Admiral, sir! I have an urgent piece of information for you concerning the Arsenale… And the riots that took place at Piazza San Marco earlier this year!” Monti groaned, stumbling down the jetty to the Admiral who disembarked his ship to address Monti.

“The Arsenale you say? What’s your name Captain?” Vincenzo asked, looking Monti up and down, his face was stern as he tried to evaluate the calibre of the younger man.

“Rigi Monti sir.” Monti paused and saluted.

“What were you saying then?” Vincenzo asked, looking back to his waiting ship.

“I don’t know how your reputation is with the Generals sir?” Monti began.

“Not very good… They resent the fact that, at least symbolically, a sailor outranks the entire army…” Vincenzo interjected humorously.

“Well there’s this General… General Rosso who has given authorisation for the shut-down at the Arsenale… I believe he’s also somehow embroiled in a conspiracy against the Republic…” Monti began.
Vincenzo listened intently and patiently as Monti told him what he had uncovered, nobody was going to tell the Admiral of the fleet, Commander-in-Chief and Military Advisor to the Council of Ten to hurry up any time soon…

[Il Magnifico]

October 1785, Venice, The Most Serene Republic (Warning - This post contains moderate violence categorised as mature.)

It had been long enough. Repeated slip-ups, combined with his total failure to respond positively to the August trap, meant Cassio de Castinous had become singled out as the traitor, even before Liliana had got involved.

Now, The Cardinal had sent her to Venice with the express instructions to break into his house to find any incriminating evidence against the larger-than-life businessman. She had been highly successful; bringing Olivero three letters exchanged between Alvise Loreti and Cassio that Cassio had failed to dispose of properly. Including one that proved Cassio had been responsible for the failure of the first coup attempt, led by Il Signore back in 1783. His apparent ‘arrest’ had also been a lie, it seemed, with Cassio allegedly spending most of his ‘incarceration’ at the Loreti family home in Naples.

Olivero had been angry at first, and had put a fist-shaped hole through his desk when he had read the letters, of all the conspirators, Cassio he had always thought, had possessed the most benign personality; he was beyond anger now though.

The Brigadier-General waited, pacing in Gianni’s study in anticipation of the wrongs that were about to be righted. Manfred, Gianni’s Prussian bouncer loomed by the door, his finest sword and pistols at his waist in case anything went wrong with the plan. Olivero admired the way Gianni put trust in his staff. He would need to do the same when he was ruler of Venetia, even if this most recent experience had put him off trusting those he thought he called friends.

Outside the room and down the hallway Gianni emerged at the top of the spiral staircase that led up to the rooms in which the prostitutes plied their trade. The gentle red wallpaper signified not pleasure but pain in the young conspirators mind tonight, as he coldly led Cassio up to the room next to his office.

The fat man was beaming to himself, struggling to take in the two beautiful women who adorned his arms. Lilianna, who wore a seductively tight-fitting skirt and tight fitting corset whispered in Cassio’s ear. “The Cardinal wants to thank you, Cassio, just you, for your loyalty to our cause.” She said seductively, biting his ear gently as the group walked.

“Why me though?” Cassio sighed, as if the actions that he thought would surely follow were a burden of sorts to him.

“The Cardinal, ever the friend of Il Signore wanted to thank you for your outstandingly long service to the group despite its recent failures, it shows true commitment, seeing as you were there since the beginning.” Gianni said, feigning envy before turning to smile at Cassio as they reached the room.

The other girl on Cassio’s arm was an experienced girl, who had been in Gianni’s employ since he had taken over Bagnole’s brothels. She had a steely resolve and was difficult to read, which was why he had chosen her to help deal with Cassio tonight.

“You tell him I’m grateful!” Cassio grinned, patting his co-conspirator on the shoulder as he entered the bedroom with the two girls. Lilianna turned to shut the door behind them, blowing a small kiss to Gianni as she did so.

Gianni shook his head and proceeded to the next room to join Olivero and Manfred. Olivero, who looked stressed, ran a hand through his slightly-dishevelled blonde hair as the young proprietor entered. The pair exchanged forced smiles, and stood in silence as they waited for Lilianna’s signal.

Seconds turned to minutes as they waited. If this went wrong… If Cassio escaped… Olivero tried to banish these thoughts from his mind. Suddenly there was a knock on the wall. Olivero took a deep breath before walking past Gianni and Manfred, who turned to follow him as he walked to the first door in the hallway. He opened it with such strength the door hit the wall violently as it swung open, revealing what Olivero thought was the most pathetic sight he had witnessed in years.

Cassio, who was lying naked on the bed, with only a sheet to cover his lower body, had had his hands tied to the headboard, and feet tied together, it also seemed he’d had his right eye blackened by one of the two women who loomed over the bed. The overweight traitor tried to look up, but he struggled to focus his vision on whoever had entered the room due to the blood that swelled across his eye.

“Olivero?!” He asked alarmed.

“We know Cassio.” Olivero said calmly, walking down the bedside to loom over him. Gianni mirrored him on the other side.

“Know what?....” Cassio sneered feigning ignorance.

“How dare you pretend to be oblivious?!” Gianni yelled at him. “You tried to kill Olivero! You tried to kill us all!” Even Olivero was thrown back by the anger in the younger man’s voice.

“I didn’t… I wouldn’t… I…” Lilianna, who was behind Cassio’s field of vision, silently withdrew a sharp stiletto dagger from a hidden sheaf on her ankle, and plunged it downwards into the fat man’s shoulder. Cassio screamed, his eyes welling up. “I’M SORRY!” Cassio said panting. Trying to pull on the rope that tied him to the bed. Lilianna twisted the dagger and pulled it out slowly as Cassio sobbed and began to beg for mercy.


Lilianna's dagger was a work of art
in itself; custom made for a woman
of dubious activities...

“Why did you do it? What did Loreti do for you?” Olivero asked, blankly ignoring the man’s pain.

“I… I did it for myself!” Cassio sneered. “Because men like Alvise Loreti hold respect for true power and… and tradition! You Olivero are the same as Il Signore! The same as your f**king cardinal! The same as Gianni here!” Cassio yelled, eyes bloodshot. “You are all upstarts! None of you have a mandate to tell me what to do! I respect the sovereign power of our Doge because I know you are all fools who would sacrifice the world we live in for a dream that will never be realised!”

“Did the money play a role in your conversion?” Gianni asked, extending a hand across Cassio towards Lilianna, compliantly she handed him the stiletto, which he plunged into the fat man’s belly, without a thought. Blood sprayed out of the wound, staining his navy finery as he pulled back the dagger.

“How dare you call me corrupt?! You of all people Gianni! Everyone knows you stole everything you ever had! And perverted everything you ever wanted! Even now I know you are trying to pervert your gracious leader….” Cassio declared between screams of pain.

Eyes darted around the room in silence. Lilianna looked curiously at Gianni upon the unearthing of this rumour. Olivero who whether he liked it or not, had to trust Lilianna shifted his eyes between Manfred, who guarded the door and Lilianna’s female accomplice, hoping Gianni was right to trust their professionalism.

“Well if I bother you so much Cassio, perhaps you regret recruiting me?” Gianni aked laughing. “I believe it was in this very building you gave me the details of Il Signore?”

“…Only so you would be slaughtered alongside him! Like the swine you are!” Gianni laughed over his response. “Why do you insist on laughing?” Cassio spat.

“Well because only one of us is dying tonight.” Gianni stated emotionlessly.

He grabbed Cassio by the neck, and used his hand to push back the fat that hid his chin, finding it, he leant down and inserted the dagger up through the bottom of Cassio’s jaw. The long thin stiletto penetrated through the traitor’s head, until finally, handle fully submerged in his fat, the blade struck his brain and Cassio’s screams cut off and he went still.

Gruesome as it had been to watch. Olivero breathed a sigh of relief and made a mental note never to cross Gianni. He had always somewhat doubted the rumours that the young man had been brutal enough to tie an anchor to his former-mentor and watch him drown. Having seen the way in which Gianni had just chosen to deal with Cassio, all doubt disappeared from his mind. He wasn’t sure whether to be appalled by his ruthlessness or admire his devotion to the cause…

[Greater Latica]

12th October 1785

Maximillian was thoroughly enjoying himself. It was his Seventeenth birthday party, another in a long line of Austrian parties, carefully orchestrated by Hans to promote Maximillian to the other European leaders. He had retired to the edge of the room, for just a moment, having been the centre of attention all evening, it almost made up for the fact he had virtually no family, an only child, whose parents had died, his adopted father assassinated and his Uncle had just fought a war with him. That left Hans as being the closest thing he had to a father, and even though he didn't show it Maximillian was the closest thing he had to a son. Maximillian scanned the room looking for him. He spotted him moving swiftly and discreetly around the room, secretly managing everything.

Maximillian watched him for a few more moments, trying to determine what his advisor was doing. Then Maximillian noticed, he mentally placed a white dot on the many attendees who were sceptical about his ability to rule, there were quite a few. He then put a red dot on those that supported him, and a blue dot on himself. He liked blue. He noticed that whenever a large group of 'whites' congregated, Hans swept in and began subtly breaking it up. He would then escort these 'whites' to a group of 'reds' where they would slowly turn pink either out agreement, or embarrassment. These 'pinks would be shuffled between groups of 'reds' until the buckled and became 'red' themselves. Hans' goal was to turn the whole room red. Occasionally some of the deeper lighter 'Pinks' and more stubborn 'whites' would be directed to Maximillian himself to turn to 'reds'.

Even despite Hans' tinkering some broke away from his plans, mostly these were 'reds' and the odd 'deep pink' coming over to speak to Maximillian directly. These were the conversations he enjoyed most, so far he had four various reigning heads of state offer him their daughter's hands in marriage. He was pretty sure that the Bavarians had no concept of an 'age gap', and that a Dutch Prince had been hitting on him earlier. He had declined all of these offers, particularly the last, citing he couldn't marry someone he'd only just met.

He continued to stand to one side, still nursing the glass of red wine a server had given him earlier. He disliked red wine immensely, even at the party after his coronation he had secretly watered it down from a table pitcher to try and make it more palatable. Unseen he slowly tipped the contents of the glass into a plant pot, keeping an eye on Hans the whole time, Hans never would have approved of wasting wine, regardless of the Quality.

Maximillian took a deep breath, and prepared to plunge himself into the midst of the party once again, after all he was only Seventeen once. He was going to relish the opportunity to enjoy himself, before it was back to work, mainly preparing for his all important visit to Rome, to visit the Pope, for his official Papal coronation, just to rub it in his Uncle's face, and to attend a certain meeting, of which the messenger had been sent.

[Il Magnifico]

October 1785 – Venice, The Most Serene Republic

Alvise Loreti was worried. He had hidden the fact the Cassio had been helping him from everyone; especially Doge Renier, to avoid word getting out. The truth was Cassio had been a great ally to Loreti and now his body had been recovered from the Grand Canal Alvise felt isolated.

The senior Loreti paced vigorously. He was in the courtyard of his family Palazzo located inside the city, not far from the Palazzo Ducale. His wife Maria could be heard humming from one of the open windows upstairs. He closed his eyes and concentrated on her voice, trying to forget the distractions that had him so worried.

“Alvise!” His brother and Commander of the City Watch, Giuseppe shouted to him as he walked through the large archway that led into the courtyard from the streets outside.

“What news Giuseppe?” Alvise asked, coolly running a hand through his long hair.

Giuseppe was not like his older brother. He was a muscular man, with short cut brown hair. He looked every bit the soldier and he wore his white and blue uniform without the cumbersome over-coat. “Bad! The doctor believes he was murdered. There are multiple stab wounds.” Giuseppe said striding over.

“Of course he was murdered…. What about his affects? Did he still have any of the letters?”

“I had some trouble getting into the house. Big Prussian guy outside was determined to stop me, even when I threatened him with arrest. I had to climb in through a back window.” Giuseppe stated bluntly.

“…And?” Alvise asked curiously, finishing his pacing.

“No letters, like we expected. I waited till noon and followed the Prussian when he left, led me straight to La Fiore, you know? One of Gianni di Venezia’s brothels.” Giuseppe sighed.

“So they’re one step ahead of us… They must have found the letters and killed poor Cassio.” The senior Loreti shook his head. “I’ll need to tell the Doge the threat is growing… Giuseppe, do me one more favour and write to Jacopo in Naples, tell him the Venetian situation is getting worse and I need more men. By god, I’ll bring a Neapolitan Army up here if I have to and burn the entire city to the ground if it means stopping these damn traitors!” Alvise shouted, more to himself than his brother. Giuseppe nodded and proceeded inside. Alvise sighed and tried to calm himself.

November 1785 – Rome, The Papal States

“The new Emperor has sent word, your eminence, he will be visiting Rome next year.” Lilianna said blankly as she read through the various papers on the Cardinal’s desk. Jacques stood looking out of the ornate window on the other side of the room.

“As I expected.” Jacques replied quietly.

“Would you like me to send word to the others?” Liliana asked curiously.

“Indeed, however our actions on the peninsular are not yet complete. I believe our newest asset, Olivero Selvo will require more time to change the leadership of Venice, if what you say of their situation is true at least…” The Cardinal trailed off, fiddling with the cross he wore around his neck as he spoke.

“Well… Now that they’ve dealt with their traitor…” Lilianna began.

“…Sometimes, Lilianna, it isn’t enough to simply kill a man… Our real enemies will not be cowed by the death of a greedy, fat businessman, if I know Alvise Loreti he will already be making plans….” The Cardinal paused, he was deep in thought. It was all a game of chess to him, and he was struggling to work out his opponent’s next move. “Loreti won’t flee Venice, not while he has the political machine in lockdown and command of the City Watch…”

“Olivero is a soldier… soldiers from Venice’s army have followed Olivero in both coup attempts; perhaps Loreti will grow mistrustful of the Venetian Army.” Lilianna interjected, attempting to help the Cardinal focus his thoughts.

“Clever girl.” Jacques smiled and turned quickly away from the window to face her, his black robe swirling around him as he did. “Loreti will want to surround the Doge with men he can trust… Neapolitans… He will have ordered his brother in Naples to send men as soon as he realised the traitor was killed. Yes…. Lilianna, I have an urgent mission for you. Head south to our border with Naples, find out if there are any Neapolitan units moving through Papal territory and divert them… I don’t care how you do it, make sure they never reach Venice!” Jacques instructed, his voice commanding and lacking in any signs of hesitancy.

“But, I’ve just got back from Venice! I have business in Roma!” The fiery Italian protested.

The Cardinal shot her a look that could only be described as one of absolute anger. “Did you just question my authority?” He said, his voice quiet and calm.

Lilianna buckled under her master’s gaze. “I would never question your authority, your eminence, I am forever in your debt… I seek only to serve you, I apologise.” She said, emotionlessly, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction she knew he would derive from hearing fear in her voice.

“Good. Then see to your personal business and leave.” The Cardinal snapped. “An army of Neapolitans will at least travel slowly. You will no difficulty in stopping them, but do not let your personal life ever come between me and my business again.”

[Greater Latica]

February 1786

Emperor Maximillian was laying on his bed, reading. He had decided that, for the moment at least, he deserved a few moments to himself. Events had died down since the beginning of the new year, but he had been no less busy, ruling an empire was harder than he thought.

The door swung open, forcefully ripping Maximillian out of the book-induced daydream, and Hans strode in. Maximillian rolled onto his side, looking directly at his advisor.
"Hans, you might be my Chief Advisor, and one of my closest friends, but even you have to knock."
"My apologies, your grace," replied Hans, complete with a sarcastically exaggerated bow, arms extended out to his sides, Maximillian and Hans never bothered observing formalities with one another.
"So why have you disturbed my moment alone?"
"Because I have something I very much want to show you."
"Very well, this had better be good." Maximillian sat up, running a piece of string through his book as a marker and placed it down on the bedside table. He slipped his feet into his boots, and grabbed his jacket off the end of the bed.
"Promptly please Maximillian."
"Hold yourself together Hans, I'm coming." Maximillian jumped to his feet and followed Hans out of the door, buttoning up his jacket as the walked down the corridor, "what exactly are you taking me to see?"
"All in good time, all in good time." Hans picked up his pace, winding through the halls and corridors of the Imperial Palace. He paused at a door, waiting for Maximillian to catch up, before pushing it open.

The room had been cleared, the usual potted plants and busts common in the palace had been relocated. Maximillian recognised the room's layout from when he used to do fencing lessons when he was younger.

"What are you doing Hans?" questioned Maximillian, slightly annoyed at the lack of information, "I hope you aren't planning to challenge me?" he gestured to the room's setup.
"I would never dream of such a thing." he replied over his shoulder as he crossed the room, and rapped his knuckles on the door at the other end. It opened slightly. "You can come out now" Hans whispered into the gap.

He stepped back as the door opened to its fullest. Striding deftly into the room was a soldier, dressed in plate armour, covering the chest, shins, shoulders and arms. The armour was topped with a face obscuring helmet. The armour was jet black, rimmed with silver and white. Habsburg eagles were carved into the shoulder plates.
Hans stood next to the armoured soldier, "Now, My Emperor, as you may have noticed that in May after the signing of the peace agreement, that I spent an extraordinary large amount of time studying it. Clause four in particular."
Maximillian racked his memory, "Clause four, clause four, clause four..." He muttered, rubbing his forehead with his hand, "Ah-ha!" he exclaimed, "That the clause that limits the size of our army, and that of the Hungarians."
"And right you are young Maximillian! Now as well, if you recall there was a large discussion as to what counts as a soldier, if Militia men and mercenaries count, and so on. This soldier here is our response to that clause."
"Really is this it? Plate armour was obsoleted nearly 80 years ago! I'm going back to my book." Maximillian went to turn when Hans interrupted his train of thought.
"Maximillian, I thought better of you than that! The armour isn't the counter to clause four, but what it conceals."
"Continue..." Maximillian was intrigued, "Perhaps my book can wait a moment longer."
Hans placed his hand on the soldier's shoulder, "If you could remove your helmet please."
The soldier appeared to be taken aback by the order, but reluctantly they complied.

Maximillian's jaw dropped, as the soldier removed his helmet, or rather her helmet, revealing her long Auburn red-brown hair, tied neatly behind her head by a neat and delicate pale blue bow, which was completely at odds with the harsh warlike military appearance of her armour. Her face was light, feminine, and very soft and gentle in appearance, she wouldn't have looked out of place in a fairy tale illustration. Her rounded blue eyes locked momentarily with Maximillian's, before shyly averting her gaze. This just served to highlight her dainty nose and cheeks. She couldn't have been much different in age to Maximillian, Seventeen or Eighteen. Nineteen at most.

"Close your mouth Maximillian!" Hans snapped, clicking his fingers, "anyone would think you hadn't seen a girl before. As you see the devil is in the details, As a compromise, I offered the catch-all term 'men-at-arms' for the treaty, creating a loophole. Our friend Anna here, isn't a man and so technically doesn't count."
"Yes, Hans, but possibly there's a reason why no-one uses Women in their armies..." His eyes drifted back to her face, and how well her armour had obscured her gender.
The young woman, now identified as Anna appeared to take offense at Maximillian's offhand comment.
"Perhaps you would like to test out your theory. Pick up one of those practise sabres, and give it a try."
"Sure I will." Confidence was welling up inside Maximillian as he and Anna walked over to the practise sabres.

Taking up their positions opposite each other, they adopted Fencing stances. Maximillian held his sword in his left hand, as he preferred and Anna in her right.
"No hard feelings when I beat you." Maximillian smiled at his opponent, trying to put her off. He lunged forwards with a thrust attack which she effortlessly deflected with her sabre. Anna took a step forward, placing herself inside Maximillian's sword reach, and struck him full in the chest with her left forearm, bowling Maximillian onto his back.
He clambered to his feet, "That doesn't count! Only strikes with the sword count in fencing!" He spluttered.
"There are no rules in war dear Maximillian! I never said it was fencing! You merely assumed!"
Anna had re-adopted her stance, "No hard feelings," she mimicked from earlier, raising her eyebrows
Maximillian was embarrassed, he dusted himself off and took up his position again, he'd let his confidence get the better of him.
He lunged forwards again, Anna dextrously side-stepped the thrust, and with a blow from her right elbow knocked him once again to the ground.
Once again defeated, he regained his composure, running his hand through his hair. Anna took the offensive this time. Maximillian ducked and kicked out at her legs stumbling her. She fell like a sack of rocks. Maximillian put his hands on his hips and laughed, "Two can play at that game!"

He held out his hand out to help her up, she grasped it, but instead of pulling herself up, she jerked it hard rolling onto her back, flicking Maximillian over her head. Maximillian was becoming frustrated, he was being beaten by a girl! Once again they stood opposite one another, taking it in turns to go on the offense, and each time Maximillian was defeated. He tried everything he knew to do, but Anna was just better.

After nearly an hour of continuous thrusts, slashes and parries, Maximillian conceded defeat.
Sweating and panting, Maximillian sat on the floor, looking up at Hans, "Are they all this good?"
"Pretty much. We've recruited them as Volunteers from the Orphan schools set up by your Uncle, to maintain secrecy. Anna, here was one of our first candidates."
"How long have you been training them?" Maximillian asked, standing to his feet and walking around Anna in circles, looking her up and down.
"Anna's training began shortly after the signing of the treaty. It has been a very rigorous programme. Particularly for those like Anna, destined for the Royal guard."
"I guess that explains the Heraldry then."
"And you would be correct in that assumption. With your permission Maximillian, I would like to dismiss her, allow her to get cleaned up."
"Oh by all means yes. Go ahead."
Anna bowed deeply, to Maximillian, collected her helmet, turned and exited the room.

"Maximillian, mouth, close it. It doesn't do well for an Emperor to act like that. I suggest you go clean yourself up too, before you start to stink the place up"
Maximillian duly closed his mouth, and picked up his jacket, heading towards the washroom, still in awe at what he'd just seen and experienced.

[Il Magnifico]

January 1786 – Corfu, The Most Serene Republic

Admiral Vincenzo had arrived in Corfu after spending the New Year period on patrol in the Mediterranean. Upon arriving at the Venetian Naval Base in Corfu he had been presented with piles of papers and correspondence, however only one of which occupied his mind.

Since meeting Rigi Monti, Vincenzo had immediately become aware of the significance of his investigation, he had written to General Rosso asking for an explanation but no reply had reached him, he knew Monti would be growing impatient, having to wait for the Admiral to get back to base before being able to contact him.

Vincenzo stood looming over his desk in his study, he hadn’t time to sit, he had to know what Monti was uncovering. He read hastily.

Investigation is continuing with little progress, what’s more Giuseppe Loreti is growing suspicious and is asking for regular reports of our findings, so far I have deceived him as we do not know yet of the extent of the Loreti’s involvement.

With nothing concrete on General Rosso, the only thing I can suggest might be for me to infiltrate the Arsenale to see exactly what is taking place behind the Republic’s back. I will await your confirmation of agreement however before taking part in such a risky endeavour.

Regards,
Captain Rigi Monti

Vincenzo didn’t even have to think twice, he knew it would be dangerous, but it was time someone in Venetia got a good look inside the Arsenale, of course he would approve Monti’s request.

February 1786 – Venice, The Most Serene Republic

After two set-backs, the uncovering of Cassio’s betrayal and years of agonising plotting, Olivero felt confident that this time, he would leave the Palazzo Ducale either as ruler of Venice, or a corpse…

He had joined his fellow conspirators inside a warehouse at the Arsenale to discuss their third attempt at taking power. Sunlight streamed in through cracks in the wooden wall, giving what would normally be a dark room a subtle glow. A long rectangular table had been set out for the conspirators, and two of Gianni’s trusted girls served wine. Manfred and several of Olivero’s loyal soldiers congregated by the door, their job was to prevent any intrusion.

Olivero sat at the end of the table, Gianni occupied the position on his right and Morlaix his left. Augusto sat at the other end of the table, furthest from their leader, symbolising his relatively disconnected status from the group.

“…On the 1st of every month, Doge Renier holds a meeting of his Council of Ten after his morning prayers. Gianni tells me that most of the Council arrive at the Palazzo significantly earlier than this however, so we will have no problem making our claim legitimate.” Olivero explained.

“So what’s the plan then, the four of us can’t do much?” Augusto asked sighing.

“Well, we will do the same thing as before, only this time we’ll control the mob, in fact that is where you come in Augusto. Gianni’s friends in the press and our loyal heralds will be able to stir up a crowd, however I want you to be the figurehead. A respectable member of the aristocracy, on horseback in the middle of the crowd will legitimise our cause, plus shout loudly enough and the crowd won’t dissipate.” Olivero instructed.

“What about the Neapolitans though? We didn’t see that coming last time?” Gianni asked, speaking his mind.

“They won’t be a problem, I have assurances from the Cardinal that their reinforcements have been held up indefinitely.”

“What about the ones already in Venice?” Gianni pressed.

“Ah, Gianni, that’s the beauty of it. Lilianna has sent us the uniforms of eighty Neapolitan soldiers.” Olivero said smiling as his co-conspirators tried to work out his plan. “I propose that these be given to my men under the command of Francois here, who will then take up the morning shift when the Neapolitans guarding the Palazzo retire at dawn. The retiring soldiers won’t question you as you’ll appear to be new arrivals from Naples.” Olivero gestured to the Marquis as he spoke and Morlaix nodded his approval.

“So we have some disguised soldiers inside the Palazzo and a mob under our command outside.” Augusto stated, straining to piece everything together.

“Indeed, when the Doge finishes his prayers and is en route to the Council Meeting, The Marquis will signal his men to arrest the Doge, allegedly under the orders of Alivse Loreti, who Gianni will ensure is sufficiently distracted nearby.” Olivero said smiling.

“I suppose that’s when you turn up, uniform shining on a handsome mare to put down ‘Loreti’s coup attempt’ and in line with the protestors demands bring an end to Renier’s reign?” Gianni asked, ever thinking ahead.

“Precisely.” Olivero smiled. “Once the Doge has resigned or been forcibly removed… Which the other members of the Council will testify happened under legitimate circumstances; again you can see to that bit Gianni. And once Loreti is in irons or a coffin, I will call an emergency meeting of the Major Council and propose the abolishment of the Ducale office, in favour of more representative civilian government, which I will propose be led by a figure they perceive to be an aristocrat in their own image; you Augusto, which will surely appease them enough to either split their vote or let them accept the plan outright… Should the vote be split, I will use the authority of the army to establish a dictatorship, using the argument that Loreti’s influence still holds sway over the Coun….”

Olivero trailed off, he had seen something in the corner of his eye. A stack of crates stood at the end of the warehouse and Olivero could have sworn one of them had just moved. He fixed his gaze upon the spot, and reached for his pistol.

Slowly the other conspirators realised their leader was disturbed and turned to look at the same spot. For several moments there was silence, before a loud breath was heard. Olivero rose quickly and gestured to Manfred and some of the soldiers to approach. The other conspirators all stood and Olivero walked over towards the crates, he primed his pistol as Manfred drew his own. The pair rounded the crates together, aiming as they went.

They were met with a startling sight, behind the crates, a large hole in the warehouse wall stood, and lots of scuffed boot-prints marked the sand on the cobbles outside it.

“I think someone overheard us…” Olivero said questioningly, before turning to Manfred and the other soldiers. “Tell the Cardinal’s men to lock the Arsenale down! NOW!”

[Greater Latica]

March 1786 Vienna, Schönbrunn Palace

The March weather was uncharacteristically warm, and Maximillian was taking full advantage of it. He'd decided earlier to take a stroll through the Palace gardens, away from prying eyes. All of the spring flowers had bloomed, carpeting the grounds in a mosaic of colours. The meticulously maintained green lawns were punctuated with blues, pinks and purples. Reds and Yellows further diversified the array of Bright colours.

Maximillian wasn't alone, the grounds were frequently patrolled by soldiers and guard dogs, and following him at a distance was his new 'guardian angel' Anna. He'd already tried giving her the slip a couple of times, but still she managed to keep him in sight. Once again he'd been forced to accept defeat, even though it wasn't a competition.

He continued his walk, occasionally stopping to make a theatrical act of smelling a flower or looking at a bird, before choosing to sit down at one of the many benches. Anna watched, standing Awkwardly a short distance away. Maximillian waved at her gently catching her eye and beckoned her over with a hand gesture. She dutifully strode over and stood next to him, hands behind her back.

"You can sit," Maximillian chuckled, "I don't bite."
She remained standing awkwardly, shuffling her feet.
"Don't force me to make it an order." He gestured with his hand at the seat next to him.
She cautiously lowered herself onto the bench, taking special care not to catch the decorative skirt worn over her armour. She placed her hands in her lap, and looked dead ahead, as if avoiding Maximillian.
He sighed, looking straight at her, "There's no need to be awkward about this. Just treat me like I'm a normal person."
Her feminine features remained unmoving and passive.
"You don't talk much, do you?"
She shook her head.
"I know you can talk, I've heard it. Come on just say something!"
She looked away shyly.
"Come on, I'm supposed to entrust my life to you, and you won't even talk to me," He paused, "How about we start with simple questions? How old are you?"
"Eighteen" She whispered so Maximillian could barely hear her.
"See now we're getting somewhere!" Maximillian beamed, "Any siblings? Brothers? Sisters?" He had to stop himself asking about her parents, as one of Hans' new 'recruits' she would have been raised in the Orphanarium.
She raised her left hand, Index finger extended, "One, sister, thirteen." She whispered, just as quietly as earlier.
"Is she going to join your ranks too?"
Anna nodded, "When she's sixteen."
"Three years then."
She nodded again.

"Look, you're going to need to give me more than this. If your voice is as pretty as you are, there's no point keeping it bottled up inside here." He tapped on her breast plate with his fingers.
A tiny smile crept onto her lips, "Do you really mean that your Grace?" she asked, her voice still barely above a whisper.
"Yes I do," Maximillian noted how she looked away timidly, a hint of red blushing over her cheeks, "And don't bother with the formalities, not out here anyway." The red deepened in her cheeks.
"Wait here" he motioned with his hand, before standing and crossing the pathway to the flower bed. Looking around he knelt down, and slowly drew his knife from its sheath, selected a small pink tulip, and nipped the stem a couple of inches beneath the flower. Replacing the knife he walked back over to Anna.
"May I?" he asked holding the forth the flower.
Anna nodded and tucked her hair behind her left ear and turning her head slightly.
Maximillian gently eased the flower into place, running his hand through her red-brown hair, only stopping to avoid the red and white striped bow tying it into a loose pony tail.
"Hans would be mad if he saw what I've done to one of his beloved flowers!"
Anna giggled, and looked straight into Maximillian's green eyes, before rapidly averting her gaze.

He placed his hands over hers, and whispered in her exposed ear, "I might be an Emperor, but if you ever decide to use your voice, I'll be there to listen."
He stepped back, offering his hand to her, "I shall be heading back inside, if you'd like to follow me."
She grabbed it and he pulled her up, even though he was still wary about the last time.

He began his walk towards the palace, a rosy faced Anna walking several paces behind him. Maximillian could feel a warm buzzing feeling in his chest, something he'd never felt before....

[Il Magnifico]

1st March 1786 – Venice, The Most Serene Republic

The conspirators were going ahead with their plan, even though Olivero was growing more and more paranoid about the fact they had been eavesdropped upon at their meeting two weeks prior, and no intruder had been spotted or captured. It had reached the point now where they were too committed, and with each conspirator having been assigned a key role in this plot, it was imperative they didn’t squander the opportunity.

It was a little past half ten in the morning and a huge crowd had swiftly gathered in St. Mark’s Square after dawn, following a week’s worth of damning reports about the corruption of the Doge and the Minor Council had filled the brains of every citizen who could read. Gianni’s agents had also got the poor out to protest, telling them that Doge Renier had been considering tightening Venice’s anti-vagrancy laws, whilst Augusto Severino had worked his magic in the aristocratic circles, legitimising the protest in the eyes of the nobility.

Augusto now sat atop a brown horse, in the centre of the mob. “We the citizens of Venice! Rich and poor! Young and Old! Call for a new order! We want Venezia to be a golden Republic once more! Down with the Doge! Down with corruption!” He chanted, his words were echoed by the masses around him, who appeared to be comprised, as he had said, of Venetians of all status and age.

Inside the Palazzo, Gianni and Francois were playing their own parts. Francois was waiting for the Doge, wearing the uniform of a Neapolitan Colonel while Gianni stealthily tailed Alvise Loreti around the upper floors of the Palazzo, making sure he wouldn’t interfere with proceedings. For their part, everything had gone smoothly. There was no sign that Loreti nor the Neapolitans were on to their scheme.

After what felt like an age, Paolo Renier emerged from the Basilica, Francois approached him, flanked by a pair of supposedly Neapolitan soldiers.

“Doge Paolo Renier.” The Frenchman stated, making no effort to hide his accent.
“Can I help you Colonel?” The Doge responded benignly.
“With the authority invested in me by King Ferdinand IV of Naples, under the direct supervision of Alvise Loreti, I am placing you under arrest for crimes against your Republic!”
“Alvise!?... This is treason!” The Doge muttered, before shouting. “SOMEBODY HELP ME!” The men flanking Morlaix moved to subdue Renier, one of them taking out rope to bind his hands.

The call for help was heard from the room upstairs, where Loreti and two of the other Ducale advisors were conversing. They stood promptly and began to walk towards the opened doors that led outside to the steps which led down to the courtyard.

Gianni stepped in the way. “Alvise I need to talk to you!” He said hastily, but he allowed the other advisors to pass, wanting them to catch sight of Loreti’s men arresting the Doge.
“Gianni what is it?! I thought I heard our gracious sovereign call.” Alvise hissed, he had never liked Gianni.
“It will only take one second, I had a question…” Gianni said, playing for time. He looked over his shoulder out of the door and down into the courtyard, where he saw Morlaix opening the gate that led outside in order to pass the signal that the arrest had been successful on to Olivero.
“Well what is it?” Loreti asked, oblivious and impatient.
“I just wanted to ask you what it felt like… Having unlimited influence over a ruler?” Gianni asked, his face a picture of genuinely envious curiosity.

Loreti looked taken aback. Outside, as the ‘Neapolitan’ soldiers pushed Renier into the centre of the courtyard, the Doge’s advisors and household staff all gathered around, Councillors from both the Minor Council and Council of Ten looked down from windows on the upper floors, whilst servants emerged from doors to get a good look at what was happening to their head of state. The ‘Neapolitans’ formed a ring around Renier, pushing him to his knees and holding their rifles, bayonets attached, lowered to his face.

“… As much as I dislike the tone inherent in your voice… Yes… I do hold unlimited influence over the Doge and yes, I find it feels marvellous, much like I’m sure satisfying your perverted urges does, in your corrupt little world.” Loreti spat, he inched closer to Gianni and whispered, “The difference is my control will go on for years, much to the disappointment of your friends who want to end me. I am invincible. I am Venezia!”

“Not today...” Gianni smiled and casually raised his hand, gesturing over his shoulder to the courtyard below. Loreti’s face changed from one of absolute confidence to one of shock and dismay in seconds.

There was a general silence outside. “Is this a coup?” One advisor asked.
“Those are Loreti’s men….” Another whispered.
Finally the belittled Doge broke his silence. “Alvise! You finally betrayed this old man you once called friend then?!” He shouted, silencing the whisperers.


Once again the courtyard of the Palazzo Ducale was at the centre of
events that would change Venice...

Loreti emerged from atop the steps, Gianni too, Loreti descended the steps but remained silent, trying to ascertain what on earth his men were doing. Gianni walked down to join him on the steps.

“By the way Alvise, I am Venezia!” He whispered before shouting to the assembled crowd. “I am Gianni di Venezia! And I have tried to save you all from this man’s treason!” He paused for dramatic effect, Loreti turned to him and mouthed the word treason, but no noise came out. “The crowd outside has a point!” Gianni said, his voice finding a steady pace. “Our Republic truly has become corrupted. If when our people suffer, the response of Signore Loreti is to overthrow the divine mandate of the Doge and attempt to turn our Republic into a Neapolitan Colony! We Venetians! Citizens of the Most Serene Republic, we cannot have this!

Our Doge is weak! Our system’s flaws highlighted by this man’s over-extended quest for power! We need change my fellow citizens! That is why I, in anticipation of this man’s attempt to take power have called for a saviour to be presented to the nation!”

As Gianni reached the high-point of his speech, the crowd of onlookers took in a nervous breath, as if visiting an opera. The drama of the coup serving the conspirators’ ends. Behind them the gate to St Marks Square opened, and sitting atop a silver horse sat Brigadier-General Olivero Selvo in shining white uniform, tricorn hat held in one hand, a large Venetian flag that blew gently in the morning breeze, held in the other. Behind him, soldiers in the uniform of Venice lined the square, the protesting mob had stopped cursing and had begun to cheer the soldiers at the Palazzo gate; Augusto sat atop his horse behind Olivero. The Marquis de Morlaix, now proudly wearing the uniform of France instead of Naples also sat atop a horse behind Olivero. The trio entered, walking their horses into the debacle that was systematically unfolding.

“We have come to take Venezia back!” Olivero declared, as he rode up to his ‘Neapolitan’ soldiers. “Lay down your weapons and you will be spared.” He commanded, his voice gentle yet firm. He turned to look up to Alvise Loreti. “Alvise Loreti. In the name of the Republic you are under arrest!”

“This is treason! You are being deceived!” Loreti shouted to the assembled crowd.

“This is not treason Alvise! Only you have committed that! Take your traitor Doge and be gone!” Olivero shouted up to him, before turning to the assembled crowd. “I serve no man, save the people outside! The people of Venice! Join me in bringing them into the modern world!” He commanded them, walking his horse around the circle of men surrounding the Doge at the centre of the courtyard.

Several Venetian soldiers bustled in behind the conspirators into the courtyard, they began to disarm the ‘Neapolitans’ who mimed surrender, before a contingent tried to ascend the stairs to Loreti.

“Take the Doge into custody!” Olivero commanded coolly, as the men pulled him out from behind the ‘Neapolitans’. “See that he isn’t hurt.”

As the men climbing the stairs neared Alvise and Gianni, Alvise turned and pushed the younger politician suddenly, tripping him down the stairs. Gianni knocked a soldier over as he fell. Alvise turned and ran back up inside the Palazzo, a musket shot bounced off the wall as he fled indoors, he shouted as he ran through the upper floors of the Palazzo. “TREASON! TREASON! THEY’VE GOT AWAY WITH TREASON!”

[Greater Latica]

22nd March 1786

In the centre of the room was a table around which stood both Hans and Maximillian. Spread out on it was a map of the Italian peninsula, with the map of Naples outlined. Hans had noticed Maximillian had been more spritely recently, and taking a particular interest in foreign politics. Maximillian was studying the map closely.
"So this is where my Aunt Maria is?"
"Yes, married Ferdinand the Fourth"
"So if Naples is there, what are my Aunt's troops doing in Venice? which is...." Maximillian scanned the map, before placing his finger on Venice triumphantly, "Here."
"I'm not entirely sure, I likely has something to do with the political unrest there."
"What the botched coups? I thought the Venetian army stamped on those..."
"Even still two coups in just as many years, doesn't seem stable to me."
"But this still avoids the important question, why of all times has an aunt, that barely acknowledges my existence as a person, decided to send me this letter." He threw the letter onto the table.
"It certainly is an interesting circumstance..." commented Hans picking the letter up off the table, and unfolding it to read, "Just as interesting as the stance of the Papal states to allow the Neapolitan troops through their territory."
"Have they defiantly marched that way? Are you sure they haven't gone by sea?"
"No they can't have, our naval forces would have noticed large numbers of Neapolitan ships in the Adriatic."
"Perhaps I might have to write back to her, and see what I can glean from her. I'll get my inks and you can help me out."
"If that's what you want."
"You're much better at diplomacy than I am. If you weren't you wouldn't be here!" Maximillian laughed as he left the room and shut the door.

[Il Magnifico]

March 1786 – Venice, The Most Serene Republic

The meeting of the Major Council had been a success, they had voted, almost unanimously to abolish the office of Doge and the Minor Council. They had also, at the behest of Augusto Severino who had become quite the factional politician, narrowly voted to abolish themselves, still fearing Loreti’s influence in their ranks. Their ruling gave full legislative power to a newly formed ‘Committee of the Republic’, comprised mostly of Loreti’s political opponents and sympathetic landowners who had rallied to the cause of reforming Venice, they had been tasked with devising a new system of governance within four years. In the meantime, Olivero Selvo would act as de facto ruler, taking the title of Premier and ultimately serving as a military dictator. Augusto, for his role in events, would be Secretary of State and would chair the Committee whilst Gianni had been appointed Treasury Secretary and would handle state spending to ensure the Republic didn’t bankrupt itself completely during the turbulent handover period.

Inside the Palazzo Ducale, which Olivero would have renamed the Palazzo Republica once the Committee got round to it, staff were rearranging furniture and removing paintings, Olivero, who had been a soldier all his life wanted the Palazzo to reflect his simple tastes, however Gianni had insisted that he hang fashionable portraits and decorate the place lavishly to emphasise the status of his newly created office.

Olivero stood in the courtyard where only ten days ago he had seized power and lapped in the evening sun. Their coup had been successful and rode upon waves of popular support. The only way in which they had failed their objectives had been by failing to capture Alvise Loreti, who had escaped through a passageway and had seemingly fled the city. Olivero had had his brother Giuseppe arrested as a precaution anyway.

“Sir, I bring grave news….” Mathias, one of Olivero’s new advisors, an aging bureaucrat who had sat on Renier’s Council of Ten, but who Gianni had personally selected as trustworthy enough to take up residency with several other senior advisors inside the Palazzo, urgently said, approaching hastily from an alcove.

“What is it?” Olivero said, sighing, he didn’t like the sound of that.

“Your rule… Is under threat sir….”

2nd April 1785 – The Adriatic Sea

Admiral Vincenzo paced the deck of his galley as the fleet neared Venetia. Captain Monti had told him everything he had overheard on his little foray into the Arsenale. Vincenzo was thankful that coincidentally on the February day Monti had chosen to infiltrate the Arsenale, the conspirators; and the Admiral knew that was exactly what they were, had also chosen to meet to plot their coup de ’tat.

Vincenzo had decided to stay rational under the pressure that had befallen him. Rather than rush back to Venetia, he had chosen to rally the entire fleet, all thirty-three ships, and return with a force that would sail right up the Grand Canal to the Palazzo, where he would demand the restoration of the Doge.

Indeed, Vincenzo had stopped at Ragusa on the way back, where he had learnt of the Coup’s success from Captain Monti, who had expressed grave concern about the situation in the city, and informed him of the recent dissolution of the Major Council.

Now his armada of galleys sat outside the city. He had ordered them to weigh anchor the previous evening, with instructions to sail up the canal in the morning, however as the men had awoke, they had found an eerie sight facing them…

…Three ‘First Rate’ Ships of the Line faced them from the entrance of the Arsenale. As Vincenzo paced, he knew that that must have been what the conspirators were working on inside the Arsenale for all this time. The ships were massive. But Vincenzo was a soldier of conviction. He would not back down, especially when he had amassed the entire Venetian Navy. He gave the signal, and the oarsmen begun to row…

Across the water, on the deck of the new flagship of the Venetian Navy stood the new Premier. He wore a long blue cape over his white uniform, which now sported a gold braid and stood next to the newly appointed Admiral Gandolfini, who had been a Captain in the Genoan navy before coming into contact with the Marquis de Morlaix, who had advised he might get a promotion if he travelled to Venice. It was a promotion he didn’t regret, standing at the helm of a ship like The New Order was a pleasure for any man, in his eyes.

Olivero had insisted on going aboard The New Order, he felt that Vincenzo’s attack was a personal attack against his authority and only by meeting it head on could he legitimise his rule.

“Their approaching to attack sir!” An officer with a telescope yelled.

“Do we have the wind?” Admiral Gandolfini asked, taking up the wheel.

“We do sir! Full sail?” The officer asked.

“Aye! I want The Enlightenment and The Republic to fall in too. We’ll sail right for them and use our guns to our advantage! Don't fire till they completely surround us though!” The Admiral roared.

“They must know they’ll be ripped to shreds if they attack?” Olivero aksed, more to himself than the Admiral.

“Aye and what a signal that will send to the powers that laugh at Venice!” Gandolfini yelled excitedly, warranting a cheer from the men nearby.

The two fleets, one of thirty-three ships, the other of three came together briskly. The battle could be seen from the windows of some of the buildings on the edge of Venice. It proceeded in swift course. The three titanic Ships of the Line waded in between the first of the galleys. Vincenzo’s ships fired their swivels and light cannon at the larger ships, but could barely land a scratch on them...


Vincenzo's galleys were nothing to
the three giants: The New Order,
The Enlightenment and The
Republic...

..Then the three behemoths fired everything they had. Seven galleys alone were sunk in the first volley. Admiral Vincenzo made his peace with god as he commanded The Resolute to row forwards into range of the powerful warships; the first of which had now simply rammed a galley in front of it, snapping it in two beneath its heavy bulk.

A volley of gunfire finished off some of the ships around The Resolute but the modified flagship remained relatively intact, she had taken heavy damage though and Vincenzo knew when the next ship aligned itself alongside her, his attempt to save Venetia would be over.

“Men… Our fates are sealed now. I did not think for a second that by embarking on this endeavour we would end up having to face our own mortality. It seems fate is against us. I only hope the lord knows what he’s doing by killing us off this way.” Vincenzo shouted, addressing his crew for the last time. “Let them tale tales of our bravery today! When we charged against the unscrupulous who, for all their revolutionary ideals and superior military advances, do not know what it means to truly be Venetian! I know what it means! You know what it means! Let it be said that those Venetians don’t die quietly! Fire Everything!” Vincenzo concluded, drawing his pistol, before priming it and raising it dramatically, he fired it up at The Enlightenment as the massive vessel came alongside them, snapping the oars on their starboard side.

Vincenzo’s crew gave a mighty roar and fired their swivels and light cannon, one cannonball managed to put a hole in the hull of the floating giant, however it was all merely symbolic defiance. Vincenzo crossed himself and closed his eyes as the cannons fired and the blaze consumed him… Him and the entire fleet… As the three behemoths cut their path through the galleys they sunk each and every one of them. Once the destruction they had wrought was over, they turned about and headed back towards the Arsenale. Leaving behind the bodies and burning wreckage of the old Venetian Navy. As with all things in this new, Post-Ducale Republic, a far stronger one would replace it…

[Greater Latica]

2nd April 1786 - Adriatic Sea

The Austrian 32 gun frigate SMS Ozean, one of three of its class in the Austrian Navy, and one of eight total frigates, was stationed near the coast of Venice under Maximillian's orders, trying to observe from a distance, showing his concerns for the situation.

Captain Gustav Abel stood on the foredeck of his frigate watching what he believed were simply were Venetian fleet manoeuvres, the Venetian Galleys were aging and obsolete, particularly compared to the modern frigate which he commanded. He’d never seen the entire Venetian navy in one place before, they must be preparing for something. He’d ordered the Austrian flag lowered, just in case.

The formed Venetian Galleys swiftly became a hive of activity, oarsmen beginning to row. Captain Abel panned his telescope and noticed what was confronting them, three large ‘First Rate’ warships, flying Venetian flags.

Abel jumped as the first cannon shots boomed across the calm waters of the Adriatic; the Venetian ships had begun firing on one another! He watched as one by one the Galleys plummeted to the bottom of the sea. Three ships, outnumbered eleven to one had emerged victorious.

This was an alarming turn of events, Abel didn’t know enough about the politics to tell whether it was a coup or civil war, or even a Neapolitan false flag mission. All he knew was that Venice didn’t have any ships of the line, and here he could see three right here before his eyes. Three ships that would decimate the balance of power in the Mediterranean. Austria’s navy consisted of little more than frigates and schooners, nothing big enough to rival even one of these warships. The SMS Ozean had 18 pounder guns, powerful, they would have outclassed the Venetian Galley cannons, but in number they couldn’t hold their own against a first rate.

He made the decision to open the sails to full and leave before the Venetians decided to do something about them. He wasn't sure if he'd been spotted, but just in case he ordered the Austrian flag to be flown as high as it could, turning tail and withdrawing to the minor naval base on the coast of Croatia, before reporting as asked to Emperor Maximillian as ordered. He felt this was more important than watching for the Neapolitans.

[Il Magnifico]

April 1786 – Venice, The Most Serene Republic

Premier Olivero Selvo had made sure the Battle of Venezia had instilled a sense of patriotism in the minds of the citizens of Venice. Prior to the battle, he had been seen as a somewhat necessary figure, stepping up temporarily, because Venice needed to modernise and catch up with the other European powers but didn’t have any trust-worthy political heavyweights. Now the Premier was next to legendary, the fact he went into the battle personally only adding to his fame. Olivero owed much of his success to Gianni who had been manipulating the press and the heralds around Venice into painting the late Admiral Vincenzo as a power-hungry associate of the now hated Loreti family. Seemingly the only person who wasn’t happy about developments was Captain Rigi Monti, who was trying his hardest not to blame himself for the situation; from the coup right through to the death of Vincenzo, Monti couldn’t help but feel it was all his fault.

He lay in bed; his head whirling, the empty bottles of assorted spirits piling up on the floor. It wasn’t just the death of Vincenzo that had him feeling down. The revelation of the ships that had been built inside the Arsenale and the arrest of Giuseppe Loreti meant his investigation into all the suspicious activity was at an end. A new Commander of the City Watch would be appointed in a few weeks and in the meantime, his regiment had been given leave. With nothing to occupy his time, it had been easy for the single, young Captain to lose himself to his thoughts, and the alcohol that helped him focus them…

May 1786 – Venice, The Most Serene Republic

Gianni di Venezia had, aside from Olivero, arguably done the best out of all the conspirators following their coup. The position of Treasury Secretary gave him enough power to sedate his ambition, whilst he had competent associates and advisors who were more than willing to use their extensive mathematic ability to action his proposals. On top of that, he had been able to move out of his brothel, The Fiore, and into a villa on the other side of St Mark’s square, close to Olivero and the Palazzo Republica. His rooftop veranda had a grand view of the square and the marvellously built basilica at the other end could not help but draw his eye. Gianni stood, wearing just his trousers and an unkempt shirt, leaning against the marble barrier, sipping wine and smiling as the warm, evening sea breeze blew over him.

“Gianni, sir.” Claudia, his accomplished prostitute-turned accountant emerged from inside. “You’ve got an invitation from the Premier.”

“It’s about time…” Gianni laughed to himself, as he turned to face her.

“He says he wants you to accompany him to Rome to visit some Cardinal, apparently its important state business.” She said, walking over and handing Gianni the letter.

He sighed in annoyance. For the last year Olivero had refused to let Gianni get closer to him, it was probably for the best considering his newly earned high-profile, but Gianni hadn’t helped put him in power for a fancy job and nice house. He pocketed the letter without looking at it; he’d get what he wanted in the end… He always did.

“Thank you Claudia.” Gianni nodded to her. “Please inform ‘The Premier’ I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He said feigning enthusiasm. He finished his wine and walked back inside. A trip to Rome… Yes, he thought, he could make that work…

July 1786 – Rome, The Papal States

Everything was going according to plan. The Cardinal grinned to himself as he looked over the assorted papers concerning the group’s meeting. It had been a long time coming, and events in Venice had certainly slowed things down; but finally the most progressive, influential and superior minds of Europe were coming together at the heart of Europe’s backwardness.

Cardinal Jacques had always hated the church, hated Catholicism and hated Rome. He had gone down the religious path in life because he had always believed in the adage that the church had more power than the state, and he had found this especially true in Switzerland, where the state had very little power. From a humble background, he rose through the ranks of the church fast, his ascension to the College of Cardinals assured following a series of ‘accidents’ that befell a few incumbent Cardinals and potential rivals. Now he was living the adage, operating as a powerful and influential backer to free-thinking, right minded groups.

He was not alone however, ‘The Masters’ as it was known to the ill-informed groups that followed them, was a collective name for a number of individuals who adhered to these, somewhat unorthodox, progressive views. The group had no official name, no official leader and operated in total anonymity in an attempt to shape European politics towards an agreed-upon greater good.

Jacques was expecting just over seven-hundred visitors to turn up in Rome in the next week, ready for the meeting, most of them were nobodies; faceless advisors, diplomats, bureaucrats, merchants, military leaders, scientists, writers and would-be philosophers. There would be a few notable guests, the new Venetian Premier was bound to have an impact, as would the young Austrian Emperor Maximillian, who Jacques was particularly optimistic about; hoping the boy ruler would perhaps be easily influenced by the assembled minds. There would be others present, who held influence still; The Marquis de Lafayette who had fought as a French notable in the American Revolution had confirmed his attendance along with Alexander Hamilton who had risen to prominence in the same conflict. From Poland Prince Jozef Poniatowski had also agreed to attend, bulking up the number of notables at this particular meeting. The Cardinal would have his hands full.

Jacques smiled, he would not disappoint. For him the best part was that the Pope had no idea that all these people were coming together. People who, on one end of the scale or another, probably didn’t personally agree with the Holy Father’s politics or even office. Jacques would revel at being the host the Pope should have been. He still had to continue to prepare for his guests, block-booking rooms in hotels and inns for the lesser-reputed while ensuring the travel details of the celebrity guests would offer them the security, easy-access and facilities they would need to have a pleasant stay.

It was Emperor Maximilian’s visit he was most preoccupied with, due to the public nature of the Papal coronation he was proposing, Jacques would need to make sure the boy wasn’t manipulated into giving away details of the Cardinal’s function to the Pope’s traditionalist advisors, who held true power in Rome, lest he be discovered and denounced. He would have Lilianna tail the Prince at all times during his stay at the Vatican, to ensure none of his enemies would come close to the Austrian ruler.

Yes, Jacques thought, as he finalised his plan in his mind. Liliana would oversee things, in the meantime he had work to do...

[Greater Latica]

14th July 1786



The Coronation was conducted within St Peter's Basilica, just like the former Holy Roman Emperors before they stopped observing the Papal section of their coronations. Maximillian had personally requested this, so as to give the impression of continuing on from them. The ceremony, like his own Coronation in Austria, was a massive affair, huge numbers of Musicians and choir singers were present, and the Basilica was filled with spectators and members of the Church.

After he took his oath to rule with both hands pressed firmly on a copy of the Bible, Emperor Maximillian knelt before the Pope who gently lowered the newly cast Austrian Imperial crown upon his head. He tried extremely hard not to smirk during the ceremony, this was a massive chance to out do his family, his Uncle in particular, many of them had cut ties with him after the start of the war between Austria and Hungary, the Pope's support gave him more legitimacy to the crown of 'Emperor' than his Uncle would ever have.

Following the conclusion of the Ceremony Maximillian was led through St Peter's square, in clear view of the assembled crowd, the electric atmosphere leaving Maximillian awestruck, he'd never thought the simple ceremony would draw this much attention. His arm now aching from the constant waving, he was led away towards his carriage, to be taken towards his Papal arranged accommodation.

15th July 1786

Maximillian swung his legs out of bed. Standing, he roughly pulled on his trousers and a shirt, before crossing the room and throwing open the dark red curtains. The warm Italian summer sun streamed into the room, the mid-morning light flooding out the night's darkness. He walked back across the room, and began to ready himself for the day. He still had a few days before the real reason why he'd come to Rome, the Cardinal's meeting, and so he'd decided he was going to spend some time exploring the city itself. After all you could hardly visit Rome and not see the Coliseum.

Hans, as to be expected, he advised against this, claiming the risk was too great. Maximillian had argued that thousands of people visited Rome every day, not all of them were killed, robbed or kidnapped. Hans had retorted that none of them were Austrian Emperors. Maximillian had decided to let Hans think he'd won that one.

Maximillian had opted for a dressed down look, choosing not to wear the full military regalia he would have worn at home, but wore clothes smart enough to at least indicate he was of Noble status, he didn't want to draw the wrong sort of attention. Besides if anything happened, he would have his royal guards with him, even if they had refused to wear anything other than their plate armour.

Once he'd dressed himself, he crept slowly down the stairs, desperately trying not to draw Hans' attention, for the fear that he would stop him. Sneaking out of the front door, he dashed across the courtyard, avoiding all of the house servants, just in case they reported him.

Outside the courtyard he met with his guards. Two of them, one he recognised as Anna, despite her face obscuring helmet, the other swiftly introduced herself as Gabriele, accompanying it with a bow.
“Remember, that we leave all formalities here, we’re going to draw enough attention with you two armoured up like that.” He reminded them.
The group wound their way through the twists and turns of Rome, Maximillian could feel his excitement building, he’d never really been outside of Vienna, let alone to another country entirely! He was taking in all of the sounds, sights and smells, noting how different it was to home. He knew Hans was going to go mad at what he was doing now, but it was worth it. The hustle and bustle of the busy market day streets made a welcome change to the relative order of Vienna.

It was when he stopped to buy some unfamiliar fruits from a vendor, having to remember to use Italian coins rather than his own Austrian ones, that Anna gently nudged his shoulder.
“Yes?” he asked, barely looking up from the small waxy fruit he held in his hands.
“There’s someone following us.” Gabriele muttered inconspicuously, “We thought it was coincidence, but they’re definitely following.”
“What are you going to do about it?” He asked concernedly.
“Confront them.” Gabriele stated flatly.
Anna grasped his hand, “With me” she said softly in her characteristic whisper, and began to pull him through the crowded street.
“What about Gabriele?” Maximillian asked as Anna dragged him along.
“Not now” she commanded, she sounded authoritative, despite her soft voice, and picking up speed. They were almost at a full run now. She tugged him into an empty side street and waited, with her right hand on her sabre’s hilt.

Rapidly rounding the corner came three men, stocky in build, with broad shoulders. One hefted a large axe, and the others carrying short swords. They stood in a threatening posture, trying to intimidate Maximillian and Anna.
One of them asked something in Italian, but Maximillian had very little understanding of the language. He remained silent, unsure whether replying in German would give away where he was from, or worse who he was.

The largest of the three, armed with the axe, moved forward, raising his blade ready to strike Anna.
He froze before he could complete his swing, a distinctive click noise stopping him still. Gabriele has stepped behind them into the alley way sabre drawn in her right hand and a flintlock pistol in her left, cocked and ready to fire.

Anna took full advantage of the pause, striking her assailant full in the stomach with the pommel of her sabre as she drew it, winding him and causing him to fumble his axe. The other two moved quickly one going for Gabriele and the other for Anna. Gabriele’s pistol erupted in a cloud of smoke, the spherical bullet ripping into her opponent’s arm, followed up with a solid punch to his chest. Anna batted her opponent’s sword away, and using the same technique that she’d used on Maximillian when they first met. Her forearm strike sent him to the floor writhing in pain. The largest of the three had recovered and attempted to attack Anna again, but Gabriele stepped in, pressing the point of her sword into the small of his back, causing a small knick that drew blood.

“I hope you weren’t planning on hurting the little lady? You could have someone’s eye out with that thing!” Gabriele commented with a sarcastic tone. The brute of a man looked confused, until Anna removed her helmet, letting her hair flow in the wind.
“Now, I suggest you leave here now,” Gabriele commanded, “Your friend looks like he has fallen and gotten himself an injury. He’ll need an Apothecary.” Where ever he was from the man must have had a small grasp of German, or just relished the chance to leave. He was clearly embarrassed at being beaten by a pair of young women. Helping both of his friends to their feet, they left the side street, under the careful watch of Gabriele.

Maximillian, overcome with emotion, wrapped his arms around Anna’s shoulders and kissed her, then realising, what he’d done, and that Gabriele was watching shied away embarrassed.
“I’m sorry; I don’t know what happened there….” He tailed off
“Ha, the teenage Emperor speechless for once,” laughed Gabriele, making a show of turning her back. Anna grabbed the front of Maximillian’s shirt pulling him close before kissing him back. It was only for mere seconds but for Maximillian it felt like an age. Anna let go of his collar, and walked over to Gabriele, whispered something in her ear, before replacing her helmet.

Interesting, Lilianna thought to herself as she watched from the balcony above them unnoticed, confident her cover wasn’t blown. Interesting.

[Il Magnifico]

July 1786 – Rome, The Papal States

The lobby of the impressive concert hall was packed with the numerous guests who had heeded the Cardinal’s call from across the continent. The bulk of those in attendance were of the moneyed classes who were, for the most part, enjoying the attention and praise Jacques was having the senior members of the organisation put upon them.

The Cardinal himself, wearing a blood red sash over his preferred black robes stood next to the greeters at the doors that led in from the entrance hall which was lined with his burgundy clad guards. He was waiting for his ‘special guests’ who would require exceptional attention for the duration of the evening. Unfortunately for him they included Alexander Hamilton, who was representing the infant United States of America, and was talking his ear off about the horrible journey he had endured, travelling across Europe from the American Consulate in Paris.

“…And to my absolute astonishment we were told we would have to spend three days in Milan! I mean can you imagine?...” The American asked, reaching what the Cardinal hoped was the end of his five minute story. Aside from his distinctly un-British colonial accent, Hamilton projected the image of a bore, the Cardinal thought. Although he was well aware of the man’s political ambition and decided not to underestimate him.

“Well you are here now, and the presence of an American will surely continue to inspire our organisation, given the great progress made by your countrymen.” The Cardinal responded diplomatically.

“I hope so. Indeed it is a shame Mr Franklin no longer considers the cause worthy….” Hamilton trailed off. His voice distant, but his eyes firmly fixed on the Cardinal’s.

“I understand that Benjamin feels his new duties keep him too busy to continue to aid our cause. That is fair enough.” The Cardinal replied, averting his gaze.

“He tells quite a different story Cardinal Jac-ques?...” The American implicitly trailed off, deliberately mispronouncing the Cardinal’s name.

“Oh does he?” Jacques laughed. “Well when you depart, Mr Hamilton, please deliver Benjamin a message from me.”

“And what would that be?”

“You tell him that he can take his philanthropy and his perceived moral superiority and he can spend the rest of his ever-shortening life, in Paris, pandering to a monarch whose illegitimate corruption and depravity are a stain on the values for which he once fought.” The Cardinal paused, watching Alexander’s face for a second before continuing his lecture. “And if kind little Benjamin takes offense, or fails to understand the clarity of my message; please remind him that if it wasn’t for me, The French would never have lifted a finger to free your country and he would have died a miserable death at the behest of King George!” The Cardinal sneered, his hand gestures aggressively reinforcing his argument.

Hamilton took a step backward before adjusting the collar of his jacket. “Very well Cardinal, you win this round. However I should warn you… Your temple’s throbbing.” Hamilton quipped before walking past Jacques to join the party.

The Cardinal took a deep breath and turned to watch the cock-sure American depart. He made a mental note to have Hamilton looked into, he couldn’t have a man talk to him with such insolence without at least having some knowledge of his weaknesses.

20 Minutes Later

Olivero Selvo and Gianni di Venezia entered the lobby flanked by six Venetian infantrymen. The new dictator wore his usual white military uniform with added gold braids and long deep blue cloak, he was wearing his long blonde hair tied up, as usual, but had shaven for the occasion. Gianni by comparison, also looked immeasurably elegant this evening. The clean shaven, young politician wore ice blue finery with a navy cravat that complemented his azure eyes, his long brown hair bounced off his shoulders and he had a gold-tipped cane tucked under his arm.

“Your eminence!” Olivero declared when he reached the Cardinal. He bowed respectfully and Gianni copied him.

“Premier Selvo. It has been too long sir.” Jacques replied and the pair shook hands. “I hope your journey to us went smoothly?”

“Indeed it did Cardinal. We arrived yesterday and today I’ve been out and about meeting some of the influential people of Roma.” Olivero said smiling.

“What a waste of time.” The Cardinal grinned coyly. “You know you’ll meet all the really influential people this evening. I hope you weren’t meeting with anyone I would consider unsavoury?” Jacques gave a knowing look over Olivero’s shoulder to Gianni.

“Not at all your eminence! We wouldn’t betray your kindness after all you have done for Venice.” Olivero answered without pause.

“Indeed. Well this evening will proceed quite simply. The bulk of our visitors will be treated to speeches and lectures in the main hall by some of the most vocal members of our cause. However I will be hosting a… smaller, more refined meeting for yourself and the other influential members of the group upstairs in one of the private function rooms. My guards will happily point the way for you.” Jacques instructed.

“What about Gianni?” Oliver said, gesturing to his young advisor.

“I believe there will be sufficient entertainment for Mr di Venezia in the hall. Unless you have some argument to the contrary?” The Cardinal asked, shooting Olivero a glare when he opened his mouth to protest.

“Well Cardinal, given that if it weren’t for either you or him, I wouldn’t be the ruler of a country right now, I don’t see why he shouldn’t join us?” Olivero said, defiantly meeting the Cardinal’s gaze.

“I’m not sure some of the other leaders would think it fair, if I confiscated their advisors and not yours Olivero…” Jacques replied, clasping his hands and looking to the floor.

“But then… Some of the other advisors didn’t happen to give us a nation, did they?” Olivero replied once again.

Gianni inhaled a sharp breath awkwardly. He couldn’t help but admire the passion with which Olivero argued for his company. The three men exchanged glances.

“I concede your point.” The Cardinal said, defeated, biting his tongue. “Il Signore vouched for di Venezia once, no other man here can say that.” The Cardinal paused. “No, it wouldn’t hurt for him to accompany you once we proceed.”

Gianni smiled and Olivero thanked the Cardinal. The two men then proceeded inside. Jacques closed his eyes and sighed heavily once they had gone. Was it just him or was he arguing with everyone important today? He made another mental note to try and cheer up before Lafayette and Emperor Maximilian arrived. He needed this evening to be successful…

[Greater Latica]

Warning- This post is categorised as Mature
Evening 15th July 1786
The streets of Rome were lit with the red dusky summer evening light, bathing everything in a dull orange glow. Maximillian, Anna and Gabriele had managed to get away with their earlier escapade, convincing Hans they'd been outside doing sabre drills. Maximillian had been running through todays events over and over again in his head, and decided to do something about it.

He opened the bedroom door slowly, peering down the corridor, working out in his head that Hans had been asleep for at least an hour. He was such a spoilsport. He silently moved along the corridor, to the room provided for Anna. He knocked on the door. There was silence. He turned to go back to his room cursing himself inwardly for being so stupid. He had only walked two paces, before a voice called out softly, "Who's there?"
Maximillian about faced, there was no going back now. He'd crossed the point of no return. He pulled open the door a crack and peered into the lamp lit room.
"It's me, Maximillian. May I come in?"
"Yes, you may, Your Majesty."
"Anna, it's just to two of us in here. There's no need for formalities, please," he commented as he stepped into the room.

Her room, though with more subtle décor, was similar in layout to his own. There was a large bed pushed up to one side and a large dresser with a full body mirror on the opposite side. Across the room from the door was the window, in front of which was Anna. The room was still well lit, despite the going down of the sun. In her hands was a smouldering splint, from where she'd been lighting the candles scattered around the room.

Maximillian stepped into the room, pushing the door closed, behind him. He paused, realising that this was the first time he'd seen he without her armour on. The Black and Silver uniform armour was on a torso mannequin next to the large dresser, the flickering reflection of the candle light dancing across the cuirass. The armour, built more for practicality than appearance, did her feminine figure no favours. Even in the evening light he could see her attractive form, the curves of her waist and hips particularly prominent. Her hair was still tied up in the pony tail that he'd come to expect of her, complete with her characteristic coloured bow, this one a deep burgundy red. He stood behind her right shoulder, and glanced out of the window, before settling his eyes on her.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, her eyes unmoving.
"The sunset?" Maximillian asked,"Yes, I suppose it is." He responded absent minded, his eyes not moving from her, he snapped himself back into the real world, "Look, I came here to apologise for what happened earlier."
Still motionless, she replied, "That was my first."
"The kiss?"
She nodded.
"Can I tell you a secret?"
She nodded her head again.
"It was mine too."
She turned to face him, their eyes locking.
"Errr," Maximillian paused, "W-w-would, y-y-you, like to, errr, do it again?" He stammered. He hadn't been this nervous since his first meeting with Cardinal Jacques, a year and a half ago.

She took a pace forwards, grasping his hands and putting them on her waist, before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close in tightly. Their lips met, and Maximillian pulled her closer, holding her firmly. Both were swept away by their intimate embrace, Anna bending her left leg upwards behind her at the knee, and placing her weight onto Maximillian's shoulders, keeping their lips locked together.

Anna moved her hands from behind his head, sliding them smoothly down his sides and onto his chest, and began to slowly undo the buttons on his Jacket. Maximillian moved his hands and tried to undo the laces on bodice of Anna's dress, and failed miserably. Opening her eyes she broke apart the kiss and giggled, tugging him by both his hands over to the bed. Expertly, with her hands behind her back she, unlaced her bodice with ease, revealing the supporting corset underneath, accentuating her curved appearance. She pulled Maximillian's face forwards, and kissing him once again, and helping him unlace the front of her corset, gently guiding his hands with her own. The corset fell to the floor, the loose strings intertwining with the sleeves and buttons of Maximillian's discarded tunic. They both stood opposite one another, slowly caressing one another's naked forms.

Immersed in the moment, uncaring for the consequences and unwilling to let their inexperience get the better of them, Anna pulled Maximillian on top of her onto the bed. They kissed and explored one another, revelling in each passing moment as if it would be their last. The fact they were forbidden to even think of getting this far with each other only heightened the emotions. Their bodies interweaved like the clothes upon the floor, both of them mutually decided to go all the way.

Early Morning 16th July 1786

Maximillian awoke with a start, trying to make sense of what happened last night, he saw that he was still in Anna's bed, but she wasn't there. Sitting upright he could see her on the other side of the room dressing herself in the mirror. She had just finished retying the bow into her hair. Looking around the edge of the bed he found his trousers and pulled them on. He crossed over to her.

"Are you okay?" He asked concerned
She didn't even acknowledge his presence.
"You can speak to me. Come on."
"We shouldn't have done that. I just got caught up in the moment. I'm sorry" she whispered
"What? Why?"
"Because you're a Royal and I'm just another commoner."
"You might be but, do you really think that matters to me?"
"No but it matters to Austria."
He kissed her neck, "Don't worry. I'll sort this out."
"Really?" she asked
"Really."
She turned, tears welling in her eyes, and kissed him back.

July 1786

Emperor Maximillian and his entourage were amongst the next of the Cardinal's visitors to arrive. The main hall had begun filling up rapidly, as Maximillian took his turn to meet and greet the Cardinal.

Maximillian had elected to wear the deep navy blue uniform of the Austrian Army, a uniform that was now rapidly becoming associated with military proficiency. The Blue and gold of his uniform comfortably complemented the black and silver uniforms and armour worn by his royal guards, Maximillian was determined that he was not going to be outdone by any of the other attendees.

He approached the Cardinal, bowing his head slightly. Maximillian's new status as a crowned Emperor technically meant he out ranked the Cardinal, and so did it out of politeness for his Host, which he duly returned.

"How excellent it is to see you again, your Eminence!" Maximillian declared, trying to start the meeting on a high note.
"And you as well, your Imperial Majesty." The Cardinal replied, not quite as enthusiastic as Maximillian.
Maximillian chose to ignore this and move on, "It has been nearly a year and a half since our first discussion in Vienna! But no doubt you've been keeping an eye on the events in Austria."
"Who hasn't? You cannot exactly keep a Coronation secret."
"No, you can't. Nor a regime change. I have my own eyes and ears too."
"Very good, so you know what is happening in Venice then."
"Naples too. You'll be surprised at what I know."
"It is nice to see you have a keen watch on events. If you would like to proceed upstairs, the others, including the new Venetian leaders await."
"What about Hans and my retinue?" Maximillian asked
"Unfortunately they shall have to wait downstairs, there are speakers conducting lectures."
"But Maximillian is only young, are you sure I cannot assist him?" Hans inquired.
Before the Cardinal could respond, Maximillian interjected, "Hans, I'm 18 in a few months. My youth has no bearing on this. By the time he was my age Alexander the Great had defeated Thrace! Look, I'll make sure to send for you before I agree to anything, if its acceptable to Cardinal Jacques."
"I guess that is a reasonable compromise." Hans lamented, sighing, "The main hall is this way?"
"Through there, the guards will direct you the rest of the way. Your Imperial Majesty, if you'd like to proceed, we just have to wait for a few more, then we shall begin."

Once Hans had been guided into the main hall, Maximillian had begun to ascend the stairs, when someone grabbed his shoulder. He turned, and noticed it was Anna.
"I don't like this, I'm too far away to help you," She stated, Silently, she drew her pistol from her belt and placed it in his hands, he tried to turn it away.
"I won't need that, you're being paranoid."
She roughly stuffed it into his belt, placing her hand on his arm, "It's my job to be paranoid. Just take it."
"He placed both his hands on her helmet, and kissed it, "I'll be fine, don't you worry, make sure Hans doesn't do anything I'll regret."
Maximillian could tell under her helmet she was smiling, "Quickly, get back to Hans before someone catches us, we don't want him to suspect anything" He continued, winking.
Giving him a subtle wave, she turned and left him. Maximillian looked down the stairs, only the Cardinal was in the room, and he firmly had his back to the stairs, Maximillian hoped he hadn't seen or heard what had just happened, especially as the armour did an excellent job of concealing her gender, as he now knew only too well. He carried on his way up, eager to meet the others of the Cardinal's 'elite'.

[Il Magnifico]

July 1786 – Rome, The Papal States

Olivero and Gianni sat upstairs in the large, well-decorated ornate room that served as the meeting point for those the Cardinal considered important. There were a few small tables and plush armchairs in each of the rectangular room’s four corners, and at the far end a set of closed double doors led out onto a balcony. The Venetians sat in the corner to the left of these.

“I wonder when the Cardinal will be joining us.” Gianni pondered aloud, he had already twice looked over the occupants of the room, who were mostly either conversing separately or sitting in isolation as they were.

“If I know Pierre, he’s probably trying to make things as awkward as possible before making a dramatic entrance…” Olivero responded, sipping a glass of wine that had had been given to him by one of the servants lining the walls.

“I didn’t realise you were on first name terms?” Gianni said, smiling at his friend and leader.

“We’re not.” Olivero responded without meeting Gianni’s gaze. “And if he thinks he can manipulate us further now that we have power, he’s going to have another thing coming.”

“So you were just using him?” Gianni murmured, before leaning in closer to Olivero. “You don’t prescribe to his ideology? I thought all we were doing was fighting tradition…”

Olivero turned, and met Gianni’s gaze for the first time. “Well… I suppose he has a point; there are some traditions…that are better off unobserved.” He whispered, brushing his hand along Gianni’s leg. The pair exchanged knowing smiles, before sinking back into their chairs.

At that moment, Maximillian, Emperor of Austria entered the room and a look of concern seemed to flash across the teenage ruler’s face as he appeared to realise that he was surrounded by a bunch of powerful older men who looked completely inapproachable. That was why Olivero was glad to have Gianni’s company.

Several of the other notables looked to the young Emperor before returning to their conversations. “I should probably go and introduce myself.” Olivero said, observing that Gianni too was interestingly evaluating the powerful guest. “We are neighbours after all.”

“That would be wise.” Gianni replied, noticing Liliana’s entrance into the room behind Maximilian. She side-stepped him, and started walking down the edge of the room before noticing Gianni and Olivero and approaching. Olivero departed to speak to Maximilian, but Lilianna took his seat before turning to Gianni.

“I have important information for you from Naples….” Lilianna said urgently addressing Olivero’s senior advisor. “It involves the Loretis and you won’t like it…”

Across the room, Olivero approached Maximilian who was still standing alone. He bowed, respectfully but not low before clasping his hands behind his back under his cape and introducing himself in French, the language the Cardinal had instructed the guests to use when conversing, as it was the most widely-known. “Good evening, your imperial majesty. I am Premier Olivero Selvo, sovereign of Venice. I figured we should probably have some conversation given the important border our nations’ share.” He smiled, before gesturing for Maximilian to follow him over to an empty space in the room.

He also waved at a servant, hoping to provide the Emperor with some wine so that he might relax. “Oh and I do apologise for jumping straight into politics, but the more frivolous stuff can come later… And knowing the Cardinal… It will.” He laughed, hoping that his own relative youth, compared to the other guests, and good humour might help ease Maximilian into the pit of snakes in which Jacques had trapped the pair of them…

[Greater Latica]

July 1786- Rome

Emperor Maximillian bowed his head politely in response, unsure as to where a Premier ranked on the mutually accepted political hierarchy.
"And it is excellent to finally meet you." Maximillian replied.

Maximillian followed Olivero over to an empty space in the room. Maximillian subtly studied the man now standing in front of him. With the exception of Maximillian himself, he was one youngest men in the room, even still he had at least ten years on Maximillian. The feature that stood out the most, besides his uniform and considerable flair, was his long blond hair, which differentiated him from the rest of the men in the room most of which were white haired or balding.

He also waved at a servant, hoping to provide the Emperor with some wine so that he might relax. “Oh and I do apologise for jumping straight into politics, but the more frivolous stuff can come later… And knowing the Cardinal… It will.” He laughed, hoping that his own relative youth, compared to the other guests, and good humour might help ease Maximilian into the pit of snakes in which Jacques had trapped the pair of them…

"There's no need to apologise, politics is something I'm prepared for. I've been keeping tabs on what is happening on the other side of the Adriatic."
"Oh really?"
"My Aunt is the Queen of Naples after all, even if she hates every fibre of my being."

[Il Magnifico]

July 1786 – Rome, The Papal States

Olivero paused following Maximilian’s reply and met the young Emperor’s gaze. He wasn’t sure how much Maximilian was aware of concerning the recent power struggle between Venice and Naples that had dominated events on the peninsula. His comment had also served to remind Olivero of that awkward inter-connected nature of monarchies that he so detested.

Regardless Olivero nodded respectfully and took a sip of wine, he was about to ask another question of the Austrian ruler, however at that moment Cardinal Jacques entered the room accompanied by the renowned Marquis de Lafayette.

Within several seconds the room went silent and everyone looked expectantly over to the Cardinal, who clasped his hands behind his back and remained silent until he was sure he had everyone’s attention.

“Wow, it has been a long time.” The Cardinal began, projecting his voice. “It is very, and I mean very, good to see most of you again after what feels like an age. It also gives me great pleasure to welcome some new guests who we are equally pleased to have join us…”

Suddenly Jacques was interrupted as a young man burst into the room through the doors behind the Cardinal. He was running at great speed and failed to take note of the ornate rug that filled the centre of the room. He slipped. Crashing to the floor and knocking down one of the Cardinal’s elderly guests. Four of the Cardinal’s guards ran into the room behind him, their swords drawn; they approached the youth and pulled him to his feet. One of them turned to the Cardinal and apologised for their failure to catch the intruder.

Panicked looks and murmurs of shock flashed across the room. Olivero placed a hand on his sabre instinctively. Eyes darted back to the Cardinal.

“Captain, who is this miscreant?” He said calmly, addressing the guard but also looking to his elderly guest who was struggling to stand. Lafayette stepped over and helped him to his feet.

“I don’t know, your eminence, I assumed the worse…” The guard responded, seemingly fearful of meeting the Cardinal’s gaze.

The Cardinal ignored him and walked over to the boy, who was trying abysmally to shake off the guards that were restraining him. “What is your name?” Jacques asked, glaring into his eyes.

“I just wanted to get in, I came all this way! Spent everything I had… Only to be thrown into a dusty old lecture theatre!” The red-faced boy replied in sketchy Italian, failing to hide his slightly French accent, he fearlessly met the Cardinal’s eyes.

“You didn’t answer my first question… And why did you want to come up here?” Jacques leered.

“You… You people can change the world, oui? Well I want too as well!” He shouted defiantly.

Jacques turned away from him, looking at his guests who were enthralled watching the proceedings, The Cardinal composed himself and turned. “I apologise sir, but this event is by invitation only. If you want further inspiration you’ll have to attend the lectures downstairs.” The Cardinal nodded to the guards and sighed as they began to drag him out of the room. When they reached the door, Jacques turned and called after the young man. “You didn’t give us your name?!”

As the young Frenchman struggled against the guards he called out. “…Bonaparte…” Before the Captain left and shut the doors behind him.

“…Well gentlemen, I apologise enormously for that interruption… Regardless though, the boy has a point, we can change the world. And I dare say with guests among us like Emperor Maximilian of Austria, Premier Selvo from Venice and our contingents from America and Poland, we are on course too gentlemen. Please discuss, drink wine, and relax. We are all friends here.” The Cardinal concluded and the guests seemed quite eager to return to their small groups to converse about the interruption or at least to return to talking about whatever they were beforehand.

Jacques adjusted his robe, before spotting Olivero and Maximilian who were stood in a space at the edge of the room. Olivero smiled and The Cardinal decided to approach…

[Greater Latica]

July 1786 Rome

Maximillian relaxed his guard once more, letting his hands drop back to his sides, noting to himself that his hand, like Olivero's had gone to his sabre, rather than to Anna's pistol tucked into his belt. Old habits die hard, he supposed.

He looked around the room, beyond the initial shock, most of the other attendees appeared to be completely unfazed by the incursion, as if it was a regular occurrence and had returned to their conversations, and their wine.

Maximillian turned to continue his discussion with the new Venetian Premier, when he noticed that Cardinal Jacques had turned his attentions onto Maximillian and Olivero and began heading towards them. Maximillian noticed Olivero beckoning the Cardinal over and decided to play along, hoping to increase his chances of playing an important role when the full gathering's discussions began.

[Il Magnifico]

July 1786 – Rome, The Papal States

Jacques slowly approached the two rulers, he shook his head as he reached them. “Cursed interruptions. Gentlemen I apologise for that, now how are you finding your evening?” He asked, deliberately making it hard for them to discern as to which leader he was addressing.

Olivero took the initiative, hoping that by speaking first he wouldn’t interrupt the young Emperor should he delay a reply. “Cardinal, I think you had both of us worried for a second or two.” He said smiling. “You must remember we are military men and can be inclined to over-react to such dramas.”

“Well I’d prefer it if we kept our pistols holstered, please gentlemen.” He replied smiling, but shot Maximillian a knowing look as he mentioned firearms. “Now how are things in Venice Olivero? You are amongst some of the most powerful reformist minds in Europe… and indeed America… please tell me you have some plans to further improve Venice’s situation. We want to set a good example to Emperor Maximillian now don’t we?” The Cardinal grinned.

“Indeed… Our new constitution is being designed as we speak. Several older titles and positions granted through the aristocracy are being disposed of and my administration has plans to oversee the subsidising of the construction of a university at Verona. All in all, I’d say Austria’s southern neighbour is moving with the times.” Olivero recited casually, taking a drink of wine before nodding reflectively to himself.

“Now that is what I call progressive, how is the fleet?” Jacques asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“In a very good state. Good to see you taking an interest.” Olivero shot back at him, forever reminded that if it weren’t for the Cardinal, Admiral Vincenzo would have been occupying his Palazzo Republica right now.

“Oh I could hardly invest so much coin and effort into the affairs of a nation-state without taking an interest Olivero, remember that.” The Cardinal hastily replied, before wheeling on the spot to face Maximillian. “Of course, it might potentially be in your interest, Emperor Maximillian, to remember that too; I, let alone the other people in this room, can be a powerful ally, you need only ensure your nation moves in the right direction.” Jacques smiled.

A somewhat awkward silence descended and Olivero fought back a smile, Cardinal Jacques couldn’t have been more obvious in his attempt to bribe the young Emperor. Olivero knew from experience that the Cardinal could make good on any promise, however he wasn’t even sure the pair had met before; how did the Cardinal know that the Austrian could be trusted…

[Greater Latica]

July 1786- Rome

Maximillian tried to hide the look of concern on his face after the Cardinal mentioned his pistol. If he knew about that, what else had he overheard or seen? Maximillian pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, worried that the Cardinal could sense his fear. The whole time Maximillian listened intently to Olivero and the Cardinal's exchange.

Maximillian was the first one to break the ensuing silence, "If only you knew exactly how progressive we've truly been in Austria." The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. He could play these games as well and Cardinal wasn't the only one with cards up his sleeve, having now switched from his accented French, to his fluent native German, "If you speak to me after I'll show you, just keep it between us." The brief puzzled look on Olivero's face only confirmed Maximillian's guess that he had little to no grasp of German.

Feigning a look of surprise and covering his mouth, Maximillian turned to the Venetian, "I'm so sorry about that, my native tongue has a habit of breaking through like that." His royal education was now showing its benefits, his strong grasp of multiple languages allowed him to gracefully switch between them at will, even if most of them were thickly accented.

"I had begun to say how impressed I am with the new Venetian Navy. One of my Frigates oversaw their debut and what a spectacular sight it must have been! If only Austria had that power!" Maximillian tried to avoid his enthusiasm getting too obvious, just in case it spoilt his ruse.

[Il Magnifico]

July 1786 – Rome, The Papal States

Jacques nodded, seemingly to himself, but his eyes were locked on Maximillian’s. Good… He thought to himself. The boy is no fool. The Cardinal went on to listen politely to Maximillian’s appraisal of the Venetian navy; his navy. Once he was finished the Cardinal nodded politely to the pair of them and turned away, disappearing amongst the other guests.

“Well Venice seeks only to bring herself up to speed.” Olivero replied, he finished his wine, noticing how Maximillian hadn’t even taken a sip of his own. “Of course it would be nice for her to maintain positive relations with Austria. I hope, having met now, whatever else happens this evening, our nations will depart in friendship.” Olivero beamed genuinely.

The Premier and the Emperor continued their discussion for some time. Gianni joined them briefly and Olivero introduced his chief advisor, blissfully unaware of the fact that Jacques had confiscated Gianni’s Austrian counterpart. Regardless the evening continued on without incident.

Over the course of the next two and half hours, the pair were joined not only by Prince Jozef Poniatowski of Poland, who bowed low to both rulers, and bestowed the best wishes of the Polish government upon Venice and Austria. But also a few more well dressed, aging gentlemen who held some degree of influence in European affairs, one Turkish, the others mostly French notables and a pair of Swedes. All conversed in French for ease. The two rulers seemed to be at the centre of the group, setting the pace and tone of conversations, Olivero could get used to this; everyone around him focusing intently on his every word.

Finally they were interrupted when the rest of the room fell silent, the other guests’ eyes turned towards the balcony doors where Cardinal Jacques stood, his arms outstretched. The huddle around the rulers gradually fell silent as well and Olivero and Gianni gave Jacques their full attention.

“Gentlemen, it has been a very engaging evening. I hope connections have been made tonight that will never falter.” Jacques paused, thinking through his next words carefully. “I now have a surprise for you, a surprise that will shock some of you more than others.” He paused again, his eyes darting between his guests, revelling in the knowledge that he had their full attention. “As some of you will be aware, it has been three years since the Holy Father; bless him, appointed me to a somewhat lacklustre position in the Vatican hierarchy. The idea being to dispose of someone as reformist and as careerist of myself by giving me a desk job requiring me to spend all my days dealing with finance and expenditure.”

Olivero suddenly realised where this was going. He looked knowingly to Gianni who nodded back at him. The pair exchanged a whisper before the Cardinal continued. “Well now, I had only had the job two weeks before I realised, that in my new role as a glorified accountant, I could legitimately set funds aside to provide security for not only the Vatican, but the College of Cardinals… I won’t bore you with the details, but if you were wondering where my crimson-uniformed soldiers came from; they were paid for legitimately with Papal money. Last month however, I secured permission from several well-placed friends to turn my security contingent, into a fully-functioning military force. If you would like to follow me, gentlemen I will show you the result…” The Cardinal finished.

A great wave of murmuring went around the room as Jacques turned and two of his men opened the doors out onto the balcony, he walked out without looking back to his guests, and his figure was consumed almost entirely by the darkness of the night. Olivero and Gianni hurryingly followed, in an attempt to secure a place at the front of the balcony. Everyone else was thinking the same.

There was a chill in the air outside, despite it being a summer night, the street-lanterns below illuminated the road… And what he saw as they reached the front of the balcony sent a shiver down Olivero’s spine…

[Greater Latica]

July 1786- Rome

The assembled guests moved quickly towards the balcony, it was far to small to accommodate everyone and they all wanted a front row view. Maximillian followed behind Olivero and Gianni, trying to squeeze into place the befit his small stature.

"Mind out the way, boy!" Called out a man, trying to push past him to see.
"Clumsy oaf," Muttered Maximillian as he was knocked unceremoniously to the side.
"What did you say boy? Do you realise who you are talking to?" The man flustered turning to face Maximillian.
"I called you a clumsy oaf, you deaf man," Maximillian stated sarcastically.
"Ah Sarcasm, eh boy?" placing extra malicious emphasis on the word 'boy', "I'll have you know that I have a critical role in running the largest banking network in the French Empire!"
Maximillian was now fed up of being treated like a child, as he had been for most of the meeting, especially this self-loving man. He would be Eighteen in four months!
He exploded, directing his entire frustration at this one man "I'll have you know that I am Emperor Maximillian Leopold Alexander Wolfgang Habsburg the first, Emperor of Austria and Bohemia, and rightful heir to the throne of the lands of St Stephen as ordained by the Pope himself!" holding out his right hand, palm down so that his royal ring, emblazoned with the Habsburg Crest and the letters AEIOU, as a symbolism of his right to rule.
The room fell silent at this outburst, not many of them had managed to get to the balcony before the argument. The Frenchman began to turn red with embarrassment at being shown up, by a teenager. There were gasps from the crowd, obviously Maximillian wasn't as well known as he'd thought.
Maximillian then decided to add insult to injury, and salt the man's wounds, "I'm here because I have the power to further the Cardinal's plan, why are you here?" He stated flatly, turning and heading for the Balcony. He thought it best that he stay with Olivero and the Cardinal, they at least treated him like an adult, not like some insolent child.

[Il Magnifico]

July 1786 – Rome, The Papal States

…It was quickly apparent to the guests assembled on the balcony what they were supposed to be looking at. Legions of soldiers, formed neatly into square regiments, filled the street outside. They were illuminated by the street-lanterns that adorned the side of the road, but their numbers were eerily disguised by the darkness that enveloped over the middle of the road. The Cardinal, in the centre of the guests, raised a hand, and the drummers attached to each unit began to drum and the troops began marching in time with them.

Nobody on the balcony spoke for a minute, as the legions of burgundy-clad soldiers marched past, when the Cardinal had spoken of establishing a security force, many of the guests had doubted that he had meant an army. There must have been several thousand men, simply marching down a road in Rome, at the middle of the night. It all felt rather odd to Gianni, who leant forward on the railing of the balcony and sighed.

Somebody else who found the procession rather odd was The Marquis de Lafayette, who stood to the left of the Cardinal. He was the one to finally break the silence that had befallen the group. “This is not our way.” He said bluntly, shaking his head slowly.

“With all due respect…” The Cardinal responded quietly, leaning in to reply before Lafayette cut him off.

“No… We are political philosophers and social reformers, not officers, Cardinal.” Lafayette replied hastily and calmly.

“Well that’s very convenient coming from somebody who fought as an officer in America!” Jacques quipped back. The other guests appeared to be listening to the exchange despite most of them not taking their eyes off the marching soldiers below.

“You know little of the struggle in America, Cardinal; but it appears one of its champions, Mr Franklin was right about you!” Lafayette replied, his voice creeping ever-more louder.

“Now, now Lafayette, I’m not sure I agree.” Another voice pitched in. It was Alexander Hamilton, who had shuffled over to stand on the Cardinal’s right. “On the contrary, I came here with many doubts about the Cardinal and his… abilities… I feel this display proves he is a man of conviction and action.”

There was a pause as Lafayette turned and shot Hamilton a glare before composing himself. “I see I have underestimated the calibre of the men with whom I surround myself.” The Frenchman responded. “It would be unbecoming of a gentleman such as myself to challenge a man of god to a duel, however I would much like too Cardinal; as recompense for the lies you have spread this evening… I would very much like too… Good day.” He sneered before turning and pushing his way out of the assembled group and disappearing inside.

There was at once a wave of murmuring among the guests, for one of the Cardinal’s high profile guests to openly insult him was a development that many were unsure of. Jacques turned his back on the marching troops, who were still filling the street and raised a hand to silence the guests.

“Well, the Marquis has made his point. If any of you also lack the courage to act upon our principles instead of forever unnecessarily talking about them, feel free to follow him. Stay… And rest safe in the knowledge that you will be on the right side of history… With the power to shape it!” Jacques finished, swirling back around to face the soldiers, he placed his hands on the railing, authoritatively leaning out over the darkness.

There was more murmuring among the guests for several seconds, until finally they fell silent… Nobody moved to follow Lafayette. As the Cardinal considered his moral victory he turned to look along the front row of his guests. Olivero and Gianni stood at the far end, eyes transfixed on the soldiers, Jacques knew they’d already be considering how Venice could use this new potential source of manpower to its own advantage. He’d probably have to reign them in at some point… His eyes then met Emperor Maximillian’s. Having overheard the Hapsburg ruler’s outburst earlier he knew the boy understood the concept of power; hopefully enough that he would recognise the benefits of continuing to operate a shared interest with the Cardinal.

Maximillian nodded respectfully to Jacques, The Cardinal couldn’t help but smile back at him, before the pair looked back to the assembled forces, whose last regiment was finally filing past. Jacques’s smile turned into a grin, he already knew about the boy’s somewhat unorthodox secret army, of course, but the fact that Maximillian was prepared to consult him about it, and hadn’t once flinched at the notion that the Cardinal might be all-powerful made Jacques feel confident; almost as confident as the soldiers in the street below made him feel. He finally had people with power around him whom he could rely on, and men, and money, and guns. Europe had better watch out…