Early Morning
City of Ancona
City of Ancona
The sun was steadily rising over the gently rolling grass covered hills that surrounded the medium sized city of Ancona on three sides. The fourth side of the city, to the east, was formed by the natural contours of the roaring Cormor River. There was little movement within the confines of the development, the hustle and bustle of the morning work rush only a few hours away. Despite the tranquil air of the scene of this seemingly peaceful, beautiful city, the fate of the history of this city and of this country was in the making today.
The morning dew was nippy and the grass frosty as the infantrymen bivouacked upon the top of the hills to the southwest of Ancona stepped out of their tents. Alongside the main pike-way entering and exiting the city upon the knolls and hills a thousand tiny campfires were simmering, only coals left from the roaring fires of the feasts and festivities of the night prior. An army, holding an allegiance to no nation but instead to a man, was established there a 100,000 fighting men plus strong. The sentries of the units encamped there were posted along the perimeter, having staying awake throughout the prior night to keep watch and stoke their units fire, were being relieved. At the approximate center of the encampment atop the highest elevation plateau, no mountain by any means, was a provisional parade field with the largest tent there at end of it with three flags flying tall and proud, all at the same level. The center flag of the three flying was the blue and white striped historical flag of the Kingdom of Parthonopia; to the left was the flag of the Duchy of Ancona and to the right was the personal standard of the man at the helm of the force gathered there. Within the lavish tent behind the standards was the Field Marshal Ignazio Victor Friuli, a man who stood about average height yet carried him self with a strong presence, standing firmly upright and chest out. Friuli was a cunning commander yet also possessed the diplomatic qualities of a well versed politician. A conservative man, he is fiercely patriotic and morally upright, however remaining a realist at heart.
This was the prologue of a very delicate, potentially disastrous, time for the region of Parthonopia. Parthonopia has not been a consolidated, unified country for hundreds of years; instead various cities, counties, towns, and villages throughout the land containing the Parthonopian ethnic people was ruled by the local leaders who retained control through subsistence living for the working people and the use of mercenary armies. Ancona was the bastion of Parthonopia culture and history having been the historical capital of the former Parthonopian Kingdom. Since the fall of the kingdom it has been ruled by the surviving family members of the once royal family, the House of Ciaia, the current being Duke Carlo della Ancona.
Field Marshal Friuli understood immensely the delicacy and direness of the situation at hand on the dawn of the morning after Christmas. As his troops reported to the parade field out front of his tent and he readied to inspect them, over two hundred men and women were gathering in the hall of the Castello D'Comor, the seat of government of the House of Ciaia within Ancona. The crowd gathered in the large reception hall consisted of all the local lords, dukes, earls, margraves, counts, captains and mayors of the many villages, towns, and cities of the greater Parthonopia proper. They had been extended an invitation six months prior of the momentous occurrence they were participating in, to gather in Ancona and hold what would be called the Convention on the Cormor. They had been called upon to use their authorities as the leaders of the nation to unite and once again allow Parthonopia to be one autonomous nation. The current state of the many states was bleak, many were starving, unable to produce enough food to be sustainable by themselves. Not but two of the many fractured states had a standing army that entailed more than their police forces and fire watch. Duke Carlo, much at the pressures of his wife Eliza, saw the opportunity presented and deemed it time to reinstate his legacy.
Which is why the Field Marshal Friuli and his army was bivouacked where he was. Friuli held a particularly important role within the many states of Parthonopia over the course of the past several years. Having been first placed as the Captain of the Ancona Guard he took his position to a whole other level; Friuli along with his Guard traveled throughout the countryside, roaming from church to tavern, raising an army of his own. Promising three square meals a day, great pay, plenty of glory, and all the whores that come with glory and loot, he would enter a village and leave it with his ranks swelling with all of the able bodied men having lived there. Once volunteering began to dwindle the next stop on his campaign was the jails of the counties and duchies and states. He would enter a hold and leave with all of the prisoners, proclaiming to liberate them from their bonds and offer them freedom in return for service. Not all states had been accepting of Friuli's marching indefinitely whilst freeing the rapists, crooks, and murderers previously locked up, however. Not less than four months prior the mercenary garrison of a prison camp in the March of Istria attempted to prevent Friuli's troops from entering their grounds and leaving with their prisoners. The following morning Friuli's army marched away, fresh with new recruits and high morale from having massacred the guards posted there and burning the camp to the ground.
On this day Field Marshal Friuli stepped out onto the field, his army of murderers and marauders in front of him. Looking up to the sky he reflects upon himself, knowing if the convention does not end well, he will march his troops in and ensure that it does. If all goes as planned, however, he will still march into the city of Ancona, instead as the supreme leader of a nation's army parading through it's new capital city. As Friuli addresses his troops the church bells of San Vito Cathedral ring out loud for all to hear. The sound brings a smile to Friuli's face, although he is slightly disappointed. The bell was the signal of victory; the men and women gathered at the convention, after conferencing for three days, through the holiday, had concluded. The bell was the signal preplanned to inform Friuli that the Convention on the Cormor ended with the declaration of a united Parthonopia.
Friuli drew his sword and shouts, "Huzzah! Long live Parthonopia, Long Live the Legion!"
The message was spread loud and clear, Parthonopia was established and the world was a witness to it.
******
The crumbling cobble streets of Ancona were a buzz with energy and excitement; children ran in groups to witness the parading of the largest army they had ever seen in their lives while their parents gathered on the corners to revel in the same view. The locals had been aware of the mysterious meeting taking place in the Castello D'Cormor, the recent influx of dignitaries and armed guards from the many Parthonopian states in Ancona's hotels and inns having given it away, however were not, until now, aware of what the Convention was about. The news was being shouted from the rooftops at this point, only having been announced officially around nine in the morning, just as the majority of the workers of the city were beginning their work day. A surprise to most, however not one that was unappreciated; in fact, the people of Ancona had a glow in their face as the thousands of soldiers that had so ominously been camped outside the city limits were filling the streets. Bands were playing at every turn and the choir of San Vito Cathedral had been summoned and was signing triumphantly the Hallelujah chorus of Handel's Messiah, among other patriotic and victory themed songs, on the once grand front steps to the cathedral. Work was cancelled and stores were closed as the tradesmen, laborers, shop owners, and workers of the city were all flooding the streets, slowly gathering towards the cathedral and the Castello D'Cormor.
The morning announcement, however tremendous, had left the population of the city, although inspired, but wanting of answers. The only news given was that of a new, unified Parthonopia, the creation of an assembly comprised of the attendees of the Convention on the Cormor, and the upgrading of Ancona from a duchy to a principality (at the same time upgrading Carlo of the House Ciaia to Prince Carlo della Ancona). No news as to whether Carlo was an absolute king or if the assembly was the leadership of this new nation, Carlo as a figurehead. There had been talk of a constitution, yet none had been presented. The people were excited for the potential prosperity a unified Parthonopia could bring yet were frightened of the potential troubles that a kingdom, strictly ruled by purely the Ciaia House, would enact.
As the people were streaming with energy outside the Castello, the lords within were hot with fiery debate. They too were still unsure as to the exact ins and outs of how this new creation would work themselves. They did know, however, that the House of Ciaia would not be given absolute power and would instead retain power over its current holding and serve as a figurehead monarch for the infant commonwealth. They also knew that there would be a constitution, and roughly what it entailed, the final version projected to be released to the people the following day. On most topic beyond that, the diplomats in the hall were in stiff disagreement, heated debate and rhetoric filling the air of the castle.
The most argued topic being that of who the constitutional leader would be, for that matter what title he would even carry. The Convention would vote and choose a leader drawing from it members; as they began to break for lunch the room was split, although leaning towards one side, as to which man it would be. The more democratic leaning attendees were behind the young upstart republican from the northern woodland region of the March of Istria, Count Antonio Luis Camillanis. The seemingly clear choice, however, of the conservative and the easily swayed attendees was that of the man who would have the actual manpower, force, and resolve to carry out what would need to be done in order for the great endeavor of a unified Parthonopia to be accomplished and that man was the Field Marshal Friuli.
Friuli sat and watched patiently the debates the rage, his highest ranking captains and counsel alongside him. He remained still and stone faced, not entering into debate but observing everything. As the conveners in the hall were mostly settled down and filing towards the exits of the hall to break for lunch, the large wooden double doors were slammed shut and at each two men, rifles held tightly across their chests, were posted in front of them. Friuli had handpicked the soldiers he had chosen to do this task, only picking the tallest men first, then from the tallest men of the army picking the most ugly, scarred, scary looking of them. He had no intention of slaughtering those he had just trapped in the hall, although he would not be against it had it been necessary. This move was purely for show and for effect, which worked accordingly.
The noble Field Marshal stood at the top of the crowd, "For one hundred years, the Parthonopian people have had the ultimate freedom; that of having no ultimate government, only that of the localities they knew and lived with. Freedom in turn gave the states you lords rule death, disease, famine, and poverty. This region has been a network of poor villages fighting amidst the chaos that total freedom provides. Each of us here has seen the workers of our lands slowly starve and many perish. I have had a vision of a prosperous Parthonopia, one where our streets are paved and our markets are filled with fresh foods. I see a great nation where our people have work to do, and work that furthers the prosperity of the nation. I see a strong military, and an undefeatable standing army! I have the vision and I have the plan and I have the army to carry it out outside. Now, already foreign powers have heard of our great triumph in unification and have sent word of their recognition. I ask of you all, who did these powers send their messages to? I will leave this hall now with you all, as I too am ready for lunch; however I am sure that when I return to here, it will be to accept my position as Prime Minister."
******
The Field Marshal Ignazio Victor Friuli swiftly walked down the hallowed corridors of the outdated castle, flanked by his two most trusted captains on either side of him, Grand Captains Cecilio Di Pietro and Vico Bartolomeo Ongaro. Having spent the past several hours since the Field Marshal's speech to the convention in the grand hall brain storming what the next step was, the three men were en route to the chambers of the former duke, now Prince Carlo. Friuli's words were in the thoughts and conversations of every convention attendee and although the official word had not yet been given, it was clear that the assembly would soon have a decision on who the constitutional leadership of Parthonopia would be handed to.
Friuli, however, was not waiting for the official word as he knocked on the study chamber doors of the Prince. The door swung open and Friuli was ushered into the room by a well dressed servant; in front of him was a grand mahogany desk at the center of the room, behind it the back wall was floor to ceiling shelving cluttered with books, sculptures, maps, and cases holding various artifacts. To the right of the desk was a large globe, standing about four feet high and with a diameter of similar size. Seated at the desk was a smiling, middle aged man. The man stood up and walked around the desk to greet Friuli as he entered the chamber.
"Ignazio, you devil, the moment at long last has finally arrived," said the Prince Carlo, smiling from ear to ear as he extended his hand to shake Friuli's.
"Not just yet, my lord, I am still waiting on the word of the convention to appoint me. Which is why I am here, in fact. It is time you address your new nation, monarch," Friuli said with a wink and chuckle.
"That is a brilliant idea, stir up some serious fever and support for you as the first Prime Minister of Parthonopia."
Friuli motioned to the Grand Captain Di Pietro who exited the room briefly and reentered shortly thereafter with several more men, one of whom was pushing a cart of recording equipment. The men set up for the interview of the new Prince while he a Friuli discussed the many greetings from foreign nations they had received in a matter of mere hours.
"Parthonopia unifies and instantly our coffers expand seven fold! Although a common theme of these letters is a fear of you becoming a military dictator," the Prince Carlo said to Friuli antagonistically.
Friuli gave Prince Carlo a reluctant grin, "The world should have no worries of a military dictatorship in this region, I am more than sure that the convention downstairs is, probably at this very moment, concluding their election. Perhaps I should act out my first duties as Prime Minister and answer some of these communications while you address the people?"
The Prince nodded in agreement, "I will announce the glorious victory of a fractured nation unifying to its people while you spread the same good word to the world. As for the assembly, there is no doubt in my mind that they have made the correct decision in appointed you, Field Marshal."
Friuli nodded appreciatively before ordering the Captain Ongaro down to the convention to receive the word of Friuli's appointment. Friuli left the Captain Di Pietro with the Prince and the camera crew and exited the study with a salute to the newly established monarch. As the door closed behind him, Friuli stopped just outside the entryway in the hall. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, a brief moment of appreciation he let the enormity of the day set in. He opened his eyes with and began to walk with a subtle grin; he was embarking on a journey that would shape the history for centuries to come and Friuli was embracing the opportunity wholeheartedly.
******
The reception hall that was hosting the Convention on the Cormor was large room that, having been last remodeled over four decades prior, was a shell of the beauty and grandeur it was once was. The tapestries on the walls, depicting scene of the history and tales of Parthonopia, were faded and dusty; the ceiling had cracks and ripples in the masonry, although only an aesthetic, not structural, issue. The acoustics were almost deafening as every word uttered within it would echo through out. The convention was hosted in the hall with fifty long tables being placed in a square formation, the seats arranged four to a table facing the center of the square. At the center of the square was a stage, although more similar to a soap box. At this moment the Captain Vico Ongaro, one of Friuli's most trusted counsel and aid and the foremast drill master of his army, was at center stage, his arms crossed and his chin up.
The assembly was still discussing, although the volume slowly lessening to a murmur before silence as all eyes fell upon the Captain. Ongaro looked about him, surveying the whole square surrounding him. The elderly, yet revered, Duke Valerio di Giambattista slowly rose from his seat. He began to speak, his long white mustache bouncing as he did so, "This convention has been an outstanding occurrence, and I am honored to have been a valuable part of it. As this is only a day from completion, a constitution brilliantly designed by the many minds and hands here before us to be delivered then. With that said, this assembly has done as we were instructed and first come to a decision upon who will be appointed. Not an easy decision, by any means, and we believe we have come to a compromise, one we have included in the proposed constitution."
Captain Ongaro, intrigued, said nothing, although Duke Valerio seemed to imply he should. Valerio continued, slowly but steadily, "The first, precedent setting, Prime Minister of this new founded Commonwealth of Parthonopia will be," he pauses for dramatic effect, "the Field Marshal Friuli."
The assembly applauded and the Captain Ongaro was pleased, although he knew that was not all the aging duke had to say, "However! This was, as I have formerly mention, not an easy decision. Many among us did not agree that the same man who would command our army should simultaneously command our fledgling country, that this was all of the ingredients necessary to establish a military dictator regime. So therefore, the assembly has also voted that Count Antonio Luis Camillanis will represent the assembly as our leader, in a position aptly titled Convention Master. His role will be to properly represent the wishes of this assembly to the executive leadership of this country, the Prince and Field Marshal of course." At this time, Duke Valerio leaned over the table in front of him, staring into the Captain's stern eyes, "Is this acceptable terms? For if the Field Marshal does not deem them so, this convention does not deem the terms of unification acceptable! If not granted, we will all return to our realms, and muster forces for the inevitable fight that will bring. So what say you, Captain?"
Ongaro was astonished, however he did not outwardly show it as he took steps forward towards the Duke Valerio, "The terms are agreed, it is done, sir. God bless this convention for it has established a bright future for our country. Thank you all for your service, I will now go inform the Field Marshal of his victory as Prime Minister and the completion of a constitution tomorrow. Long live Parthonopia!"
Every one stood up and applauded thunderously, the Captain approached the Duke Valerio and shook his hand firmly before walking to the Count Camillanis and congratulating him as Convention Master. He then departed the reception hall and began to sprint, eager to inform Friuli of his new title.
